Shirley Qin

Appalachia, 2050

Chuck had a Ph.D. in epidemiology and genomics. He realized what was coming and prepared accordingly. His bunker, solar panels, and foraging skills left most thinking he was crazy. But a few of his students believed him and signed up for his post-apocalyptic survival program. Chuck knew young scientists would be needed in the new world.

Mark, a freshman, yawned as he stepped out of the bunker.

“Professor, you got anything to eat?”

They were always so hungry when they woke up. Probably because they slept for so long.

Chuck handed him a basket and pointed out both safe and poisonous mushrooms. “Remember, brown gills don’t kill, white gills make you ill,” he said, showing Mark the underside of the mushroom caps.

Mark repeated the rhyme, filling his basket while Chuck gathered kindling. Mark was moving quickly. They would feast on mushrooms tonight.

“Hey Prof?” Mark asked as he sat heavily. “White gills don’t kill, brown gills make you ill, right?”

“No,” Chuck said, but it was too late.

“Oh.” Mark fell over, eyes glazed and mouth frothing.

Chuck sighed. He’d tried saving the students before, but there was no point. If it wasn’t mushrooms, it was bees, tepid water, or ravines. These kids were virus-resistant, but no amount of genomic engineering could give them common sense.

He tossed the Death Caps on his way back to the bunker. As he worked on improving his admittedly confusing rhyme, he started thawing the next student. 

Prompts: Genre: Doomsday Prep; Character: Naive Student; Object: Mushroom

Word-limit: 250

Competition: Writing Battle: Verdant Raven 2026. Honorable Mention Recipient