Apex Book Company

In Simon Hatworth’s basement, the vines grew strong. They stretched off his work counter, pressing themselves outward, sneaking down table legs and off into damp crevices at a crawl’s pace. Most of the time he’d carry on with his work ignoring their movements, but every now and then he’d stand back and marvel at their liveliness, their will to travel, their reason for being.

Three weeks into his disclosed experiment, he stabbed a throbbing vine with a needle of legally-purchased morphine. All convenience stores now carried the standard drugs, along with the occasional membrane chip or pheromone energy drink. He waited until the green coloring turned mawkish before recording his findings.

Other than discoloration, there were no drawbacks from the drug. The vines kept growing, toughening their exteriors with each day that passed. Amazing that they had come from a simple houseplant.

“Lovely,” Simon said, stroking a vine like one would a pet. “You’re lovely.”

A vine slithered around his ankle, curling like a cat’s tail, affectionate and demanding of attention. He bent down to stroke it as well.

“And tomorrow, we’ll see what else you can withstand.”

Simon woke early, kissed his sleeping wife on the cheek, and snuck down to his basement. He locked the door behind him.

At the bottom of the wooden stairs, he paused. The frigid cement floor was no longer visible; a layer of vines a foot tall covered the basement from wall to wall, the majority of them sprouting ivory white flowers that stood out like stars under the dim lighting.

“Well, this was unexpected,” Simon said, making his way over to his work counter. He had little fear of hurting or damaging the vines by placing his weight on them so he merely climbed over the throbbing plants. He grabbed his clipboard and pen, eager to jot down notes.

When he was finished, he lit a small section of vine on fire. Nothing happened. Simon was pleased, and to show it he patted his vines for a good ten minutes.

He jerked forward into his work counter when a thick vine pounded him across his shoulder. His heart rate quickened as he curled himself into a hunched ball, ready to defend himself from further blows. The vine patted him with a genteel manner, neither hard or soft. It was mimicing Simon’s actions.

“That’s a good vine,” Simon said to calm himself. “That’s a damned good vine.” He took further notes and left the basement to shower for work.

As slow as the workday went, Simon could barely remember what he did as he drove home. Excitement made his foot heavy, made his car speed forward, made his lips moist. The thought of actually creating a chemical that strengthened its taker, allowing them to withstand such things as weakening drugs, fire, or extreme pressure, filled him with a great sense of pride. And not just within months of the chemical entering bloodstream, but weeks. With time and proper equipment, he could get that down to days, maybe even hours. Minutes.

He couldn’t contain his excitement when he entered his home, exclaiming his arrival.

“Simon,” his wife called out, “I’m in the kitchen. Dinner won’t be ready for an hour.”

He smiled and kissed her, pulling her small body into his arms. She giggled. He pecked her on the cheek, breathing into her face. “Are you glad you married me, Jamie?”

“Of course I am.”

“Then prepare to be doubly glad you married me.” Simon took his wife’s hand and led her to the basement door. He fished the key out of his pocket.

“Are you going to finally show me what you’ve been tinkering with down there?”

He laughed and opened the basement door. A dozen ends of grass green vines flopped at their feet, twitching like stunned appendages. Jamie jumped back, a hand covering her gasp. Simon put his arm around her back and pulled her close to him.

“It’s all right, honey,” he said. With his other hand, he waved at the vines. “This is our future.”

“Overgrown plants?”

“No,” he said, pushing a heap of vines away so that he could go down the stairs. “These came from ficus. I made them what they’re now. I’ll show you.”

“Simon!” She gripped his arm.

“What?”

“I’m not going down there. What the hell have you been doing?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Some experiments.”

Jamie brought her arms across her chest. Simon knew the posture. He’d seen it for twenty-some years. It meant no to a lot of things: no fishing trips this weekend, no more beer tonight, no poker with the guys, no sex. Just simply no.

He kissed her forehead. “You wait here then.”

She continued to stare, silent, her eyes penetrating him in a way only she could do. He ignored it for the moment. This was important, the creation that would change his life, possibly the world. With a power like this in the army, nothing could stop such a force. The money and the fame and the life of someone significant. He wouldn’t let Jamie ruin it with a look. He turned and pushed his way through the sea of vines.

When he’d walked midway down the basement stairs, the vines gave way to his presence, parting like an audience of commoners. He felt godly, powerful, a master of living things and science. Simon made his way to his work counter only to discover that the vials of his bright yellow chemical creation were shattered, a faint residue coating the counter’s surface along with bits of glass. A vine stretched forward and rubbed itself over the spot, writhing with what appeared to be excitement.

Unsure of what to do, Simon extended his hand to pet the vine. As he neared, it stopped twitching and angled its sharp tip upward, much how a dog might after hearing a strange noise. The vine went stiff, waiting. Simon slowly pulled his hand back. He glanced at the staircase, the path to it still open.

Simon sidestepped his way back to the stairs, his eyes watching as many vines as he could. Something was off here. It was a strange sensation, one he couldn’t exactly label. Though the vines had welcomed him he wasn’t completely sure they’d let him leave. They were up to something.

Halfway up the stairs, the wood creaked, a long shrill that didn’t want to end. Simon winced and glanced behind him.

No movement. He continued climbing, almost stumbling backward as he hit a wall of vines. Already the basement was dimmed from the hallway light being shut out by fleshy plant-life. A vine covered in white flowers slithered out of the wall like a snake and twisted over Simon’s shoulder and down his body. He shivered, not knowing what he could do now. Call for Jamie? Talk to the vines? Pray to God for understanding?

Something pricked the back of his shoulder. He craned his neck around to see a needle sticking from it. A vine pushed it in deeper, pumping Simon full of morphine. Two vines shot forward, wrapped about his ankles, and pulled him down the stairs.

Another vine crept toward his face, a blowtorch in its grasp. Simon watched in horror as the vine—with the assistance of two others—lit the device and brought it down toward his legs. Without hesitation, the blasted things lit him on fire.

He tried to stamp his legs, but vines held him down. The morphine made his movements sluggish, almost surreal.

“Stop!” He gave in. “Please, stop! Jamie! Help!”

The vines smothered the fire out, wrapping tightly around his thighs and stomach. Others moved above him and below, from his left and his right. Curling tendrils swarmed at him. The air grew heavy and pressed at his shoulders.

As the morphine kicked in hard, he could no longer feel the empathetic pats on his body, the ones that told him he was still alive.

He heard a faint call. Jamie. She couldn’t do anything for him. He needed to tell her he was sorry about this whole mess.

His response was cut off by a curious vine slithering into his mouth, down his throat, and out through a hole it carved in his back with its sharpened tip. He closed his eyes, feeling no pain, wondering just what he’d done to the world and whether or not he’d still be a significant person with his passing.