“Some fungi are necrotic. Some. But not all. Morels, for instance. Morels harvest nutrients off a tree, but they don’t aid in decomposition. They’re called mycorrhizal. In general you can think of mycorrhizae as givers, not takers. Or cooperators—maybe that’s a better word. To put it in the most oversimplified of terms: Necrotics are the baddies, cooperators are the goodies. The cooperators help with soil chemistry and plant nutrition and basically act as the internet connection of the underlying forest.”

“So just like people, you’ve got takers and you’ve got cooperators.”

Isaac says, “And our girl back at the lab, Mia—I’m guessing she’s a cooperator. If we’re dealing with a sudden crop of new growth, she’s our best-case scenario. For communication, negotiation, allyship.”

“Or indoctrination.”

He almost says Yes but can manage only a sigh. Because he knows she is referring to him. He is the indoctrinated.

Director Ricketts approaches the pulpit and stares at the cross as if ready to pull it down and wield it like a sword. “Whereas what’s happening here in the ward . . .”

“What’s happening here is something different. Malignant. And scary. This is our worst-case scenario. This necrotic spread is here to gobble us up.”

“So how do we contain the spread?”

“Right now we’re dealing with the equivalent of a wildfire. There are infant fires spreading. Sparks carried by the wind, shall we say. And they could flare up dangerously on their own. But it’s the source that matters most right now. It’s the source—the parent site—we need to extinguish.”

“You mean contain,” she says.

“I guess.”

Her eyes flash at him. “You guess?”

He tries to keep her gaze but finds himself ducking his head. “It’s the source we need to contain.”

“And how do we find the source?”

“I think I already did.” He hates himself for enjoying the pleased smile that splits her face when he shifts the screen toward her. “Look.”

* * *

Jack is reminded of his mother’s death. COVID was spiking, protesters had taken over downtown Seattle, the White House was caught up in a cycle of scandals too numerous to keep track of, and she was felled by a heart attack. He had spent weeks swallowing everyone else’s pain and frustration, and suddenly none of it mattered. All the trouble in the world was eclipsed by his own personal tragedy. Once addicted to the news, he didn’t read the paper or look at his phone for weeks because he had only so much empathy.

That’s what’s happened to them now. Though it seems impossible, Nora and Jack had willfully put what was happening in Seattle out of their minds, because they just didn’t have the bandwidth for anything other than Mia.