The Devil's Fingers

Book 3: Hunter Shea's One SIze Eats All

by Hunter Shea

Genres: Horror

Synopsis

“Old school horror.” —Jonathan Maberry
 
WHAT HAS LONG PINK FINGERS AND SMELLS LIKE ROTTING FLESH?
It is a slime-covered fungus known for its pinkish red tentacles and pungent odor. It is indigenous to Australia but has spread to North America. Its Latin name is Clathrus Archeri, also known as Octopus Stinkhorn. Most people call it The Devil’s Fingers . . .
 
I DON’T KNOW BUT IT’S GROWING ON YOUR NECK.
Deep in the woods of Washington, botanist Autumn Winters stumbles onto a field of the luridly colored fungi. Two of her fellow campers make the mistake of touching it. Now it’s growing on them. Fleshy gelatinous pods. Sprouting from their skin. Feeding on their blood . . .
 
AND IT’S STILL GROWING.
Autumn watches in horror as her friends are transformed into monstrosities—grotesque, human-fungal hybrids as contagious and deadly as any virus. Autumn knows she must destroy these mutations before they return to civilization. But if there’s one thing that spreads faster than fear, it’s The Devil’s Fingers . . .
 
Raves for The Montauk Monster
 
“A lot of splattery fun.” —Publishers Weekly
 
 “Frightening, gripping.”—Night Owl Reviews

Release date: October 23, 2018

Publisher: Lyrical Press

Print pages: 112

Sample

Chapter 1

Carrie’s screams rocketed Autumn’s heart into her throat. A crow big enough to carry a cat in its talons leaped from its perch above their heads, screeching across the blue sky.

“Carrie!” she shouted.

Her friend had forged ahead to take pictures, her passion du jour of nature photography separating her from the group. Autumn Winters had wondered where she’d gone. Now, she just hoped she wasn’t in a ditch or hanging off a cliff.

Like that time in Mexico, she thought, the heavy pack on her back thumping the base of her spine with each footfall.

“Over here,” Carrie called back, her voice coming from a copse of spruce trees to their left.

Latrell sped ahead of Autumn, letting his backpack slip from his shoulders so it wouldn’t hold him back. Carrie’s longtime boyfriend, Dan Waverly, was right behind him. Autumn’s much shorter legs couldn’t keep up with the former college athletes.

She followed their path, branches and weeds swaying from their passing. Veering from the official trail worried Autumn, but nowhere near as much as Carrie’s peal of terror. The gradual uphill climb had seemed so easy, the late spring air just cool enough to make it one of the more pleasant hikes she’d been on. It was amazing how arduous and stifling things got the second they had to sprint like madmen, thorny weeds scratching their legs.

The toe of her hiking boot caught on the underside of an immovable stone. Arms flailing, she twisted her body so she wouldn’t fall on her face.

“Got ya!” Brandon barked as he grabbed hold of her backpack. He held on until she steadied herself. He coughed up half a lung while she caught her breath.

There was no time to thank him. Carrie had grown frighteningly silent and there hadn’t been a peep out of Latrell or Dan.

“Come on,” she said.

“I’ll catch up,” Brandon wheezed.

There were heavy footsteps behind him. He’d be okay.

Autumn weaved her way around the closely packed trees, careful not to clip her shoulders on the sturdy trunks.

“Where are you?” she shouted.

“Over here,” Latrell answered.

Honing in on her fiancé’s voice, she stumbled out of the tree line and into Dan’s wide back. She caught an unwelcome whiff of sweat, her face smooshed into his moist shirt.

Regaining her balance—not that she had any to begin with—she stepped back, noticing that Carrie, Dan, and Latrell were standing alongside one another, hands on their hips, staring at something she couldn’t see thanks to being dwarfed by Dan’s massive shadow.

Latrell took her by the hand. “Look at this.”

Carrie sounded close to tears.

“Are…are they alive?”

Autumn looked across the meadow and fought a sudden wave of dizziness.

As far as she could see, the ground was littered with shattered white pods. Sprouting from each pod were thick, pink tentacles. It was like looking at a sea of squid, the underside of each tentacle dotted with wet olive and black spots. Interspersed within them were deathly pale limbs, four or more to a pod, looking too much like severed baby arms for Autumn’s taste.

Autumn hated calamari.

She took a step toward the edge of the meadow. Latrell held her back.

“Don’t go near them.”

“Whatever the fuck they are,” Dan said, putting a protective arm around Carrie.

Crashing in the brush announced the arrival of Brandon, Tina, and Seth.

“That is wild AF. And I haven’t even smoked yet,” Brandon said, peering at the field as if his eyes were deceiving him.

Autumn let go of Latrell’s hand, crouching close to the nearest cluster of skyward-reaching tentacles. It was hard to believe that Autumn, the girl they all called Mighty Mite because her genetics refused to allow her to pass the five-foot mark, was out macho-ing her alpha male of a fiancé. Then again, this was kind of her specialty.

Or it would be in a couple more years.

“Jesus, don’t touch it!” Tina yelped.

Autumn turned to her friends, all of them looking as if they were standing on the precipice of untold horrors. Latrell’s smooth, shaved head ran with rivulets of perspiration. Seth’s hand went to the machete secured at his hip.

“It’s all right,” Autumn said.

“That does not look all right,” Carrie said, her hand on Dan’s chest.

A breeze whispered over the meadow, animating the tentacles as they swayed back and forth. Tina yipped. Brandon pedaled backwards, falling on his ass.

The only thing worse than fried calamari was living calamari. Blinking hard, Autumn willed her mind to just shut up and deal with what was in front of her.

You’re not at Nicky’s Fish Box or lost at sea, dummy.

Autumn reached into her pocket for the little baggie of nuts she’d packed for quick snacking. Dumping the nuts on the ground, she inverted the bag over her hand.

She reached down, fingers grazing the papery flesh of the tentacle. She plucked it free from the pod. It was almost as long as her forearm, yet weighed next to nothing.

“Don’t bring that thing near me,” Carrie said, cringing.

Latrell’s eyes grew wide. The wind changed direction, blowing Autumn’s long honey hair into her face.

Hands flew to mouths as everyone started choking, Tina making tiny retching sounds.

Uh-oh, Autumn thought. I should have known better.

The stench rolling off the meadow was impossible to ignore. It hijacked their lungs, nestled into the membranes of their noses, coated their tongues.

A fetid redolence encompassed the campers, the presence of death too much for Autumn to handle. Eyes watering, she dropped the tentacle, hands grasping her knees, stomach heaving.

“Oh my God,” Carrie gasped between gouts of vomit splashing her and Dan’s boots.

She was the first to pass out.

But not the last.

Chapter 2

“I knew they weren’t real,” Seth Willard said, setting up the camp stove with little success.

“Uh, hello? They are real,” Autumn Winters said, scanning through the pictures she’d taken on her phone. After they’d recovered from what was the equivalent of the stench of a charnel pit, she’d snapped at least a hundred pictures of the field, all while holding a triple-folded bandana over her mouth.

Unlike Carrie, Tina, Seth, and Dan, she’d managed to keep the contents of her stomach where they belonged. Score another one for Mighty Mite.

“You know what I mean,” Seth said.

Brandon Majors chuckled. “I know that I saw you about to whip out that Rambo knife to defend yourself. Did you think that was Cthulhu’s bastard children out there?”

“What the fuck is a Cthulhu?”

“Reading is fundamental, buddy. It’s never too late to learn. If you want, I’ll order some Dick and Jane books from Amazon and tutor you once a week.”

Seth grinned. “And I’ll teach you how to actually get laid.”

“Look, I like Tina as a friend. I’m not all that comfortable with you offering her up as some kind of teaching tool.” Brandon flinched when Tina Beechworth launched her boot at him.

“Don’t be such a skeeve,” she said.

“Hey, blame your boyfriend, not me,” Brandon said, holding his hands up in surrender.

Tina turned on Seth. “And why aren’t you defending me?”

Fiddling with the connector on the stove, Seth replied, “Because he’s an idiot and not worth the effort.”

Brandon let out an exaggerated exhale. “Whoo. I thought you were going to whip out the old bros before hos.”

Tina’s other boot hit him square in the chest. He rolled onto his side.

Autumn noticed Seth’s grin before he dropped his head back down to figure out how the infernal stove worked. She knew that was exactly what Seth was thinking. He and Brandon had been best friends since they were in diapers. Tina may have been movie-star gorgeous and smart, but she was no match for their bromance, no matter how much it sounded like they hated one another.

Their banter could border on annoying, but after what happened back at the meadow, it was a welcome amusement.

Carrying a bundle of firewood, Latrell Creedmore stood over Autumn while she looked at her phone.

“What did you say those things are again?” He dumped the wood and plopped down next to her, his bulging muscles pressed against her arm. A small, internal shiver rippled through her. They’d been exclusive for three years and he still gave her goose bumps.

Autumn stopped at a close-up of one of the pods, seven tentacles drooping and revealing what looked like a ribbed throat at the epicenter. Everyone but Dan, who was off somewhere, gathered around her.

“I know it looks like some kind of sea creature, but it’s actually just a fungus,” she said, feeling like one of her botany teachers starting a lecture.

“Lik. . .