James Turnbow

We both looked at the security building.

It was mostly intact.

If any ants had gotten inside, it wasn't enough to kill the people in there.

As I followed the ants back toward their colony, I wondered if adding the deadly mystery pathogen would have any other effects.

I was still 50 yards from the colony entrance when I got my answer.

The insects stopped being able to walk.

They dropped to the dirt, their little legs twitching ineffectually, antennae jerking back and forth.

One by one, starting with those at the back who had been infected first, the ants slowly melted as if they were made from chocolate.

They left bits and pieces of their exoskeletons along with their legs, but otherwise little remained of them, at least to the naked eye.

By the time the sun was touching the western horizon and a containment team was ensuring I really hadn't loosed a deadly pathogen on the world, things looked very different.

Wherever the ants had fallen, there were now tiny white fungal shoots sticking up from the ground.

A whole forest of them, leading all the way back to the colony.

I stared at those growths for a long time, thinking about Wade.

I felt like I had done right by him, like his death had been for the greater good.

As I turned to leave the now useless enclosure, one more quote came to mind, also from the Magnificent Seven.

Once you begin, you've got to be ready for killing and more killing and then still more killing until the reason for it is gone.

I hoped my reason for it was gone.

There had been enough death recently, more than enough.

SCP-9029 refers to an anomalous colony of ants located in southern Texas.

While mostly resembling a mature colony of leafcutter ants, workers have never been seen cutting or consuming any type of leaf.