Bernie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Everything was catching up with him. He was exhausted. And terrified. They were speeding through the jungle in the dark on a hovercraft, chasing poachers in a helicopter that was equipped with an electric weapon. At least this time the headlights were on, so Ivy could see where they were going and Bernie didn’t have to worry about getting attacked by branches. He felt his cheek. It had stopped bleeding, but had swelled up. His left eye felt a little puffy as well. He was going to have one heck of a bruise tomorrow. But bruises were the least of his worries.

Most of the poachers had been dealt with by Lea-Lea and her army of creatures, but there were still two of them on the loose aboard the helicopter. Had they left the island and escaped? Or were they headed for the fungal core as Ivy suspected? And if so, why? Questions and more questions raced through Bernie’s brain as he desperately tried to make sense of the situation. He hoped that Ivy had a good enough sense of direction to get them to where they were going in the dark.

Lights appeared up ahead and Ivy slowed the hovercraft to a stop. They could hear the thwop, thwop, thwop of the chopper’s rotor. The two of them continued on foot, leaving the hovercraft’s headlights on so they could see where they were walking. They peered through the trees into the mushroom clearing.

The helicopter was circling low overhead, creating an incredible rush of wind. Someone in camouflage gear stood in the open doorway. As the figure leaned out of the helicopter, Bernie saw that it was a woman. She had a buzz cut and was shouting angrily. Bernie couldn’t hear a word over the thrumming of the rotors.

Below the helicopter, the fungal core was an astonishing sight. The mushrooms and the connecting mycelium were glowing, bathing the entire area in a soft pearlescence. Mushrooms of differing sizes and colours created a fairytale fungal forest. Bernie thought it looked magical, although the atmosphere was ruined by the noise of the chopper, the gale its rotor was blowing up and the harsh beam of its spotlight.

Off to one side sat the burnt-out husk of the buggy that had first brought them to the fungal core.

A ghostly figure moved among the fungus, collecting specimens and placing them carefully into a case. Bernie assumed it was Bolete, even though his face was covered. Who else would it be? He wore one of those coverall outfits that protected you when handling hazardous materials – a hazmat suit. The bioluminescence of the fungal core made the suited figure glow with an unearthly light. The spectral figure looked up at the helicopter and started waving. No, not waving, signalling them. It looked like he was gesturing for them to go away.

The woman in the helicopter shouted some more, then disappeared from the doorway. Bernie saw the tripod. Mounted on it was what looked like a giant cattle prod. That would be the TED weapon that had been used to zap them.

Bernie looked around frantically. What could they do? The helicopter rose up and pulled away from the fungal core, circling in a wider loop around the area. The air stilled and the noise subsided.

Ivy took off towards the figure standing among the mushrooms. Bernie followed tentatively, remembering what had happened with the mycelium the last time they were here. He stepped carefully, aiming for the bare patches of ground.

The suited figure looked up as Ivy approached and wildly waved their arms for her to stay clear. She hesitated. Glowing strands of mycelium clung to her sneakers, but they didn’t try to pull her in like the last time.

The figure stalked towards them, the pale fungal strands falling away from the hazmat suited feet. It pulled off its hood. It was Bolete, and he looked furious.

‘Are you trying to get yourselves killed?’ he called. ‘The mushrooms are dangerous. The mycelium is erratic. This whole area is off limits. My suit has a fungus-retardant coating, but you have no protection.’

‘It’s over!’ Ivy shouted at him. ‘We’ve stopped the poachers. We’ve freed all the animals. Those two in the helicopter are the only ones left. Give up!’

‘Ha!’ exclaimed Bolete. He blinked slowly, once, twice, a third time. ‘I do not care about the poachers. They were merely a means to an end.’ He spread out his arms to indicate his surroundings. ‘It is the fungus that matters. Meier does not see the potential. But I do! All he cares about are his dinosaurs. He must have some ridiculous fantasy about opening his own Jurassic Park. Ha! But when I get my samples off the island, people will finally see the potential of fungus. I shall be hailed as a mycological genius. I will change the world! I could have a Fungus Funpark!’

Bernie thought he sounded deranged.

The helicopter was circling, the noise and buffeting wind returning with it. Ivy and Bernie backed off into the jungle, hoping they hadn’t been spotted. The woman was in the doorway again as the chopper descended.

‘No!’ shrieked Bolete, arms waving frantically. ‘Do not land in the core. It is too dangerous!’

Of course, just as he couldn’t hear what the woman was shouting, she couldn’t hear him. As the helicopter came in to land, Bolete fought the gusts of air to don his protective hood and return to the mushrooms. He continued collecting his specimens with a desperate energy, shoving mushrooms and strands of mycelium into plastic containers, which he put in his case – his gloved hands apparently allowing him to touch the fungus without fear of being caught by it. It must be the coating on the suit, thought Bernie. Around Bolete, some of the mushrooms were releasing puffs of spores into the air, the particles shimmering in the glow of the fungal core as they were dispersed by the blasts of air from the chopper.

Before the skids had even touched down, the woman jumped from the helicopter and stalked towards Bolete, crushing mushrooms as she went. She stopped briefly to look down at the fibres sticking to her boots, but then continued. They began to argue. There was much waving about of arms. The woman looked furious as Bolete bent to pick more mushrooms.

‘Now’s our chance,’ said Ivy. ‘While they’re distracted.’

‘What?’ Bernie wasn’t sure they could or should do anything at this point. ‘What can we do?’

‘The TED device,’ she explained. ‘We can turn it around and zap the electricity into the helicopter. That should disable it.’

‘Sounds dangerous.’ Bernie’s voice quavered.

‘It is,’ agreed Ivy. ‘But it’s our only chance of stopping them.’

Bernie was about to protest when Ivy sprinted for the helicopter. He hesitated a moment – he seemed to be back to following Ivy instead of leading. As he ran, he noticed the large conglomeration of mycelium beneath the helicopter.

Jumping on board, Ivy attempted to swivel the device so that it pointed towards the back of the helicopter. ‘Help me,’ she gasped.

Bernie gripped it and pulled as Ivy pushed. But still the device refused to move.

‘It helps if you unclasp the swivel mechanism!’ growled a harsh voice.

Bernie and Ivy looked up from their efforts to see a pair of cold eyes glaring at them. The owner was the buzz-cut woman, her camo gear fluttering violently around her. Lit from below by the glowing fungus, her face looked positively malevolent.

Ivy quickly unslung her cattle prod and pointed it at the woman.

The woman laughed, stepped forward, and in a matter of seconds disarmed Ivy, shoving her so hard that she sprawled on the floor. ‘You two will make good hostages.’ She looked towards Bolete, who was now packing up his case. She cupped a hand to her mouth and shouted. ‘Last chance! We’re leaving right now. With or without you.’ Bolete was trying to lift up his case, but it appeared to be stuck. He yanked at it with frenzied effort but to no avail. ‘Fool!’ spat the woman.

Keeping the cattle prod trained on Bernie and Ivy, she thumped the back of the pilot’s seat. ‘Take her up!’

The noise of the rotor increased and the helicopter attempted to ascend. But as the sound rose in pitch, the helicopter stopped. Bernie could hear the engine straining as it tried to lift up into the air.

‘What the hell is the matter?’ yelled the woman.

There was a muffled shout from the cockpit, but Bernie couldn’t make it out.

Bolete finally looked up. Abandoning his case, he ran towards the helicopter, pulling off his hood.

‘The mycelium!’ he yelled, pointing under the helicopter.

‘What?’ the poacher yelled back.

‘That!’ Bernie pointed to the edge of the doorway. Strands of fungus were squirming their way up into the helicopter.

The woman leaned over the side to look. ‘What the . . .’

Seizing the moment, Bernie jumped forward and shoved the poacher, who reached out and grasped the side of the helicopter to stop herself from falling out.

‘Come on.’ He grabbed Ivy and pulled her to her feet. With the way clear, the two of them stumbled off the helicopter, falling to the ground, and scrambling away towards the clearing’s perimeter.

‘Stop!’ the woman yelled, but unless she was prepared to get off the helicopter and chase after them, there was nothing she could do.

Bernie looked over his shoulder. The landing skids were covered in fungus. Although the white fibres were stretched taut, they managed to hold the chopper. It wasn’t going anywhere.

The sound of the helicopter rose to a strained whine. Smoke began to pour from the rotor.

Bolete started to back away. ‘Get off!’ he yelled, but the woman paid him no attention.

It was difficult for Bernie to see, but it looked like she was leaning over the seats, yelling something at the pilot. Bolete retreated further, coming to stand with Bernie and Ivy.

With a shower of sparks and the screech of metal, the base of the rotor mast exploded, sending the rotor whirling into the air. The helicopter thumped down onto the ground, its engine dying. Bernie instinctively ducked, but the rotor blade sailed in the opposite direction and down towards the fungal core. It sliced through several of the larger mushrooms, sending clouds of spores into the air.

The reaction was instantaneous. The fungus rippled and undulated. Waves of the white strands surged towards the helicopter and began to climb inside it.

‘Get off the vehicle!’ yelled Bolete.

Finally, the woman understood. She thumped the back of the seats and then jumped out and over the surging fungus. The pilot kicked open the cockpit door and threw himself to the ground, half crawling, half stumbling away. They all watched in amazement as the strands of glowing fungus wrapped themselves around the helicopter, engulfing it.

‘Get off the fungus,’ shouted Bolete. He stood at the edges of the clearing with Bernie and Ivy. The woman and the pilot staggered towards them.

From the sidelines, they watched as more and more of the fungal strands heaved across the ground towards the helicopter, throbbing with an inner light. Soon they couldn’t see anything but a helicopter-shaped radiant mass. Slowly, it started to constrict, its light pulsing like a heartbeat. Muffled crunching, tearing sounds came from within as the shape distorted.

Bernie’s mouth hung open, his mind numb. It looked like the helicopter was being broken apart, crushed within the fungus. And then lumps of fungus began to move in waves from the diminishing helicopter shape, across the ground and between all the mushrooms, to the central circle with its trampoline of mycelium. The fungus flared with light as each piece of the vehicle disappeared.

‘It’s eating the chopper,’ breathed Bernie.