Friday Flash - Evolution

Dr Lydia Lee stared into the thick sludge clinging to the inside of her mug. Stevie caught her grimace and chuckled.

"If the theory of the multiverse is correct, then there's another you in another universe who's drinking actual coffee, instead of that synthetic crap," said the technician.

"Yeah yeah, and there will be another me who's playing Twister with Charlie Sheen and Sean Connery," replied Lydia.

"Oh stop with the multiverse rubbish, will you?" Alan grimaced at them from his crossword. The lab assistant spent most of his days doing puzzles, but Lydia couldn't afford to be picky about staff. It was already difficult enough to get people to venture into the exclusion zone.

"For that heresy, I think you should go turn off the groundwater pumps for the day," said Stevie.

"Why do I have to do it?" asked Alan. He thumped his puzzle book onto the desk.

"Because a) it's the only water we have and b) because you've done nothing else today. Come on, Alan, I'm paying you for this stuff," said Lydia.

Alan shoved his chair back and stood up. He pouted at her before stomping out of the room. Lydia rolled her eyes. 

"Just think, humans are 80% water. That's 80% totally wasted on that guy," said Stevie.

Lydia watched Alan leave the building and cross to the concrete bunker. It squatted halfway between the lab block and the perimeter fence. Lydia winced as a gust of arid air blew the groans of the dying across the wasteland to the lab. People came from miles around, usually on their hands and knees, hoping the scientists could help.

"You ever feel like we're doing something wrong?" asked Lydia.

"In what way?"

"Hoarding the water like this, only using it on the plants. Even this isn't enough for them. Look at them, they're getting desperate too." Lydia stretched out a hand and stroked a wilted leaf. The plant rippled beneath her touch.

"They're the only plants left in the state, Doctor. For all we know, they're the only ones left in the country. If we don't keep them alive, then what'll we grow when the rains come back?"

"It might never rain."

"Then it doesn't matter whether we give the water to the people or not. They'll die at some point."

"Stevie! That's an awful thing to say!"

The door flew open and Alan flounced back into the lab. He threw himself into his chair and snatched up his book again. The movement knocked the plant on the desk off balance, and it swung towards him, its limbs outstretched as if seeking a saviour. Alan caught the pot and shoved it away, ducking out of the reach of its tendrils.

"Alan, it's only a plant. Don't take your mood out on it," said Lydia.

"Stupid plants, I hate the lot of them. Why are we saving them? We could use that water a lot more than they could," said Alan. He pouted. "We could have real coffee and-"

A loud crash in the next lab interrupted him. Lydia stood up, leaning forward like a hunting dog scenting prey. Stevie swung around in his chair to check the security monitors. The last thing they needed was intruders. Security put down the last raiders who broke in searching for water, but the detail moved on when martial law was declared. The cities needed them more than a science outpost.

"I can't see anything," said Stevie. "Maybe something just fell over."

The vision panel in the door exploded inwards, showering safety glass across the floor. Lydia yelped in shock as a green tendril curled into the lab. It patted around the wall until it found the door switch. The mechanism hissed and the tendril withdrew before the door slid open.

A towering plant tottered into the room. Balanced on thick roots, it held the spine of its central stem upright. Lydia whimpered. Stevie's mouth hung open, and Alan's book fell from his limp hands. The plant shuffled to one side, and three more of the giants entered the lab. Their roots undulated, moving across the floor like snakes.

"What are they doing?" asked Stevie.

Before Lydia could answer, a tendril studded with wilted leaves shot across the room. It wrapped itself around Alan's neck, yanking him from his chair. He gave a strangled cry as his knees hit the concrete floor. His fingers scrabbled at the plant but its tendril held the chokehold firm. Lydia reached out to him but Stevie darted forward and grabbed her arm. The tendril squeezed, and Alan's eyes bulged in their sockets. The plant's arm constricted and Alan toppled forwards. His skull hit the floor with a sickening crack. The plants gathered around his prone body.

"What are they doing?" asked Lydia.

Her ashen face turned to her technician. Stevie peered through the forest of tendrils and stems. He looked back, his own face green with nausea. Lydia looked for herself, watching them dip their roots into the growing pool of blood around Alan's head. Her stomach lurched to hear the smacking and sucking sounds.

"I did say he was 80% water," whispered Stevie.