Free Spore by Tamara Jones

the police tape and held it up for Mare to duck under. She hesitated then slipped past. He followed and picked his way into the cemetery. Kneeling behind the closest tall gravestone, he took a picture of the twisted mass at his feet and hoped the stone hid him and the flash.
    The flash-enhanced image glowed on the view screen. A convoluted network of whitish veins sprawled near the headstone. Were they plasma filaments? A root system? He paused to take another picture, a close-up, to better see the fluffed up, slimy texture. Then he looked around.
    Each grave had its own odd, threaded shroud.
    Mare grimaced at the image on the camera screen. “It looks like someone stretched a lumpy, veiny hunk of skin on the ground.”
    “I don’t know what it is,” Sean whispered, one hand reaching down to touch the tangled membrane. He found it warm and slick, slimy like snot, and he felt a faint pulse of fluid flowing within. “Whatever it is, it’s warmer than the ground. And it’s pulsating.” He tried to fling it off his fingers, but the gunk stuck to him. “Sticky.” He wiped his hand on his jeans and took another picture.
    “Oh my God,” Mare muttered, gaze darting around. “That’s… It’s…” She swallowed as Sean took a third picture. “I think we ought to go home,” she said at last, her voice small in the rain. “It stinks out here and what if the stuff is dangerous? A terrorist biohazard or something? We’re not even wearing gloves.”
    Just a few more, then we can go. Sean leaned forward to get another close up of the weird veiny membrane, making sure to get the gravestone in the shot. “None of the cops are wearing facemasks or protective suits, and none of the people today were sick. I’m willing to bet it’s not toxic.”
    “Always the optimist,” she muttered, crouching beside him. “So what do we do?”
    “Get a few more pics,” he said, motioning to a large gravestone close to the nearest tarp. “If nothing else, I can use these for inspiration for Ghoulie.”
    The cops and kids in the woods grew louder.
    “Yeah, Ghoulie covered with snot strands. That’d be fun. Like I don’t see enough of that at work,” Mare said, barely audible over the warning squawk of the megaphone. Sean counted to three then they bolted, bent low, slimy strings shifting beneath their feet. They reached the next large gravestone and crouched behind it. “Make it quick, okay?” Mare said, wiping rainwater from her eyes.
    “Sure.” Sean shifted to take a photograph of the smear in front of him. “Just a couple more then we can—“
    “Sean!” she gasped, pointing up the creek. “Did you hear that?”
    “Hear what?” he whispered, gaze darting around. Shit! Did a deputy spot us?
    “That!” she said, standing. “Something splashed in the water way over there. Something big .”
    He rose to look backwards over the gravestone to the cops and kids. Eight or nine damp, grimy teenagers clumped together, defiant and screaming. Two pointed up the hill, toward them, and Sean crouched again. “Mare. Get down. They’re going to see—“
    Lightning arched across the sky, bringing an immediate crack of thunder. Mare had walked toward the glowing tarps, still pointing. Past her, within the farthest, fluid splashed up to speckle the inside of the plastic.
    “Hey!” the megaphone screeched. “You! Up the hill! This is a restricted—“ The rest of the warning was lost to another peal of thunder. Sean bolted for Mare, swearing under his breath. He dragged her down to the ground as lightning crackled again.
    Sean sneezed at the choking stink of mold. Beside him, Mare covered her nose with her hand.
    “God, it stinks,” Mare said.
    Teenagers and cops yelled at each other down the hill, and one cop climbed the hill toward him and Mare. Not much time left. “I’m going to reach under the closest tarp and take a picture, then toss you the camera,” he said, getting his feet beneath him. “You stay put. I’ll