With a relief, Ned returned to the safe house and slept soundly until morning. He was surprised to discover he had received a letter from the Sim Postal Service and went inside to read the note.
“I hope this finds you healthy and well. By now, I’m sure you’ve figured out what’s gone wrong and the faction that is attempting to profit from it. We are grateful for your help once again. If you need to contact me, mail me at ‘Eight Bells’ in SV. I sincerely hope our paths will cross again. Until then, best regards, G. Augustine — P.S. Please be careful. P.P.S. Please destroy after reading.”
Gracie. He hadn’t thought of her in nearly a year. He reread it before placing it on the grill to burn. He was glad to know she was doing well, even though the mutant bizarre cowplants were now taking over a part of the Selvadoradian jungle.
“Drats,” he muttered, freezing in place. “Plasma bats. I won’t miss the dangers of jungle life.”
Ned noticed a strangely familiar sound and went outside the compound to investigate. “Not again,” he groaned. “However, I may need some of these,” he sighed, carefully harvesting the bizarre fruit. “Hopefully, this will help slow it from maturing into a completely carnivorous creature while I’m here.”
Ned sat down to complete a detailed report of the plane crash site.
“The cause of the crash appears to be caused by a hybrid Bizarre Cowplant, but I suspect this was already known. The remains of the three crew appear to have been consumed by ‘offspring’ of this hybrid. I would classify the situation as extremely dangerous. As of yet, I see no evidence of spores being released, but I have seen evidence of its travel mechanism: vines. Attached are photographs of the site and the aerial photo, which was taken, I believe, shortly before the plane went down.
“I am working with a group of locals who, I have reason to believe, may be involved with an illegal export business. Also attached are audio clips of conversations I’ve intercepted. Additionally, I have harvested bizarre fruit from outside the compound, but it does not appear to be a hybrid.”
A short while later, Ned heard the notification. “Wait at the safe house for final mission delivered by courier. Do not contact anyone, and do not leave the compound.”
Ned made a caprese salad using the last of the fresh produce. It was GREs from here on out until the courier arrived.