Death Cap - A Thanksgiving Horror Story

 Flash Fiction 11-10-17

Entry #1 

 Death Cap - A Thanksgiving Horror Story

 By Dean Sault

“Daddy. Is this a good one?” “Hang on Elsie, I’ll be right there. Don’t touch it. It might be poison.” The young father arrived at his daughter’s side to examine her mushroom. “Oh, Elsie, that one looks great. Good eyes. You can add it to your sack.” The child slid a small spatula-like knife under the base of the mushroom, just as she had been taught, and delivered it to the canvas bag in her wicker basket. After a morning of hunting wild mushrooms in the wilderness of Northwest California, the family of four returned to their remote cabin to take stock of their good fortune. They each dumped their mushrooms into a large bowl at the center of the table. “Good job, kids. Wash up while mom and I select some for dinner.” As soon as the children were out of earshot, their mother began her familiar complaints. “Jacob, this is a waste of time. You know as well as I do, I’m not going to change my mind. I want the divorce, and that’s final.” “You’re right, Cara, I don’t want a divorce. I was hoping this trip might give you reason to reconsider. When we spent our honeymoon here, you said this place was magical.” “That was back when we were two immature kids," she snapped. "We had no business getting married so young, much less, starting a family right away.” Jacob tapped his index finger on the table without commenting. The children ran back into the kitchen, hands still dripping wet. “Who got the most, daddy?” Elsie asked, always competing with her little brother who did not even seem to realize they were in a competition. “It doesn’t matter,” Cara said, ignoring her daughter’s question. “There’s something your father and I need to tell you kids.” “Cara, please! Not now,” Jacob pleaded, “Let the kids enjoy this vacation. We can discuss it on the trip home.” His wife reluctantly agreed. Cara and the kids entered the living room while Jacob washed mushrooms and prepared salads for dinner. “What kind of salad dressing do you guys want?” he called into the other room. “I want Caesar, Daddy.” Elsie was first to answer, as always. “Me too!” Charlie, her little brother chimed in. “Do we have any dried tomato and spices?” Cara asked politely. “Yep,” Jacob answered. “You want it on your salad, or separate?” “Separate, please.” Jacob reached into the pocket of his coat, hanging on a wall hook by the mudroom. He retrieved a small plastic bag containing two off-white mushrooms. He cut them into four halves. Three of those pieces, he then chopped up and added to his wife’s salad while placing the forth section into the community basket. Jacob’s teriyaki chicken meal was delicious featuring fresh salad with mushrooms found by the kids. This was their traditional Thanksgiving meal, enjoyed every fall since their first child was born. After the kids grew old enough to pass judgment on varieties of fungi, Cara and Jacob encouraged them to participate in the mushroom hunts but checked every one for edibility. Later in the evening, Cara complained of stomach cramps, soon followed by violent diarrhea and vomiting. She spent the evening in the bathroom while her husband dutifully attended to her needs, holding her long black hair back as she retched into the toilet. “Oh my God, I feel terrible.” Cara spoke between breaths. “You’ll be okay in the morning, honey. There’s a twenty-four flu going around at the university.” Jacob offered false hope, well aware of the symptoms of death cap mushroom poisoning. After a few hours, her initial illness would pass, but the toxins would silently destroy her major organs. As Jacob promised, Cara felt much better in the morning. “I wonder what that was.” She pondered her sudden onset illness. “Maybe I got a bad mushroom.” “I doubt it. I inspected every one the kids picked. Did you pick any that you weren’t sure about?” “No...,” Cara suddenly became suspicious. “Jacob, you wouldn’t?” “Are you accusing me of what I think you are?” Her husband acted offended. “I’m sorry, Jacob. You may be a lousy husband, but you would never do anything to hurt the children. Maybe you’re right. It felt like a twenty-four-hour flu.” During the next two days, the family played as if there was nothing wrong. Both parents attempted to make the last-ever family vacation pleasant. Cara began to grow tired and weak on day three. Her skin showed slight jaundice of early liver failure. Soon, she lay in bed shivering from a sense of cold that only became worse despite ample blankets. Jacob watched with myriad emotional conflicts as his wife slipped into the end stages of death cap poisoning. When the children expressed concern about their sick mother, he assured them she would be okay after the flu passed. “Jacob! Jacob, where are you?” Cara called out weakly from the bedroom. He excused himself from eating popcorn with the children in front of the fire, promising to be right back. “What Cara?” “You did it! Didn’t you?” She struggled to push up on one elbow but fell back. “You son-of-a-bitch, you did it!” Jacob leaned close to her face. “I told you Cara. You will never take my children from me.” He left the room, closing the door so he could enjoy the kids in peace while she passed into inevitable coma. The next morning, Cara was unresponsive. Jacob acted upset as he loaded his children and limp wife into the car for the long drive to the nearest hospital. After two hours, he pulled into the Emergency Room parking lot and ran through the ambulance entrance, calling desperately for help. Cara's passing became just another statistic of Death Cap mushroom poisoning.