They found the fourth body in the forest along the Park River, and the detectives knew how it would play out. A mangled corpse with huge chunks of flesh just missing, as if dug out. A fortune cookie, from which they’d gingerly tweezer out a slip of paper reading “Stop Eating Animals / There is a Solution.”
Detective Jen Rayburn and her partner spent the afternoon combing through the area for clues, and found nothing. It was frustrating.
At home, she opened a window and filled a spray bottle to water her houseplants. She was surprised to see a new one: a sort of white daffodil with pink accents. When she stooped forward to get a closer look, the flower’s bell sprayed her with a sweet-smelling dust of spores. She tumbled backward and passed out.
—
“Oh, you’re awake,” said a woman just out of sight. Jen lay supine, immobile, gazing at a bank of LED lights along the ceiling. The room was humid, with the aroma of something cooking in garlic.
The woman stood over Jen, showing her face. “I’m the one you call the Park River Vegan. I’m not going to leave calling cards anymore. I have other plans now.”
She was beautiful: long brown hair with gray streaks; slate blue eyes; flawless skin on a slender face.
“And I imagine, Jen, if you could speak: if you’d be one of those people asking, ‘but where do you get your pro—teinnnn?'”
She plucked a bite of sprouts from a small bowl with chopsticks. “Here, taste,” she said, placing it in Jen’s mouth. “You can’t chew or swallow, but that’s fine.”
“It’s a complete meal, all twenty amino acids,” she explained. “It’s not only important what you grow, but where you grow it.” She took a bite for herself. “Mmmm. Nutritious, tasty, grows fast… you know, we could solve world hunger with this. Save the planet.”
Jen felt lost. Paralyzed, numb, with a maddening itching all over her body. She felt a dull pain as the woman worked at something near her abdomen, then seemed to sprinkle something there, starting another itch she could not scratch. To the side, the woman ran some water, then returned holding a radish.
“It’s beautiful! … Oh, you’re confused.” Her captor frowned. “Why don’t I just show you. While you can still see.” She stepped out of frame again and returned with a hand mirror, angling it so Jen could see herself head to toe.
Her clothes had been removed; but there was very little bare skin. Instead, growing everywhere, rooted inside her, were grasses, microgreens, herbs, peppers, vines, and blossoms. The red hole where the woman had harvested the radish was already starting to germinate and sprout.
“To think, when somebody dies, we bury the body in a box. Or burn it up.” She plucked a cherry tomato from a vine on Jen’s thigh, and popped it in her mouth. “Such a waste.”
