Radioactive Algae Confirmed in Lady Bird Lake

“IT’S EXTREMELY RADIOACTIVE: there’s no other way to say it.”

Eugene Miller, a scientist and spokesperson for the the Austin Watershed Protection Department, placed another algae sample on the workstation beside him. We stood in a cordoned-off area of the Hike & Bike trail, along the shoreline on the south side. Eugene wore a hazmat suit. He and a group of scientists were collecting samples, and so far, all of them had been confirmed as radioactive.

Across from us, however, kayakers and paddle boarders continued to glide across the surface of the water.

“Hey, slow down! Don’t come through here!” Eugene waved his hands at a runner who trotted past him. Frustrated, he tore off his gas mask and wiped sweat from his face. It was his umpteenth attempt at trying to maintain a secure testing area. Further up the trail, a row of orange and white barriers like the ones used to divert traffic was supposed to keep people away. The runners had been leaping over it like Olympic hurdlers.

“I don’t understand.” Eugene’s voice was thin and hoarse. Earlier, after the first confirmed radioactive sample was identified, he’d spent nearly an hour running up and down the shoreline, trying to alert the kayakers and paddle boarders that they were all in danger. The few that turned to look at him just waved and smiled.

“We’ve been saying this stuff is toxic for years. Don’t swim in the lake. Don’t let your dog swim in the lake. We make announcement after announcement, day after day. But what do people do? It’s like we’re talking to children.”

I scrolled through the notes I’d been taking. “How seriously will this radiation affect people? How much danger are we in, exactly?”

“No one should be within a mile of this area,” Eugene said. There was a pained look in his eyes. “We’re all seriously risking our health right now, just being here.” He gestured at the other scientists. “But I’m trying to make sure people understand—”

Just then, a strident, piercing roar echoed behind us. Grackles fluttered out of the trees, squawking. Waves lapped up onto the shore in front of us. Something had submerged itself into the lake, and a large, dark mass was moving toward us. I took a step back as what looked like a combination of a golden retriever and a stegosaurus emerged: what was once a dog appeared to have mutated and grown to at least four or five times its normal size. It lumbered up onto the shore, its green and mottled fur festooned with clumps of algae. Frightened scientists scrambled to move sensitive equipment and samples out of the way. A row of inflamed crimson scales poked up out of the spine of the beast.

“Good heavens!” Eugene cried, dashing over to a table near the workstation. He snapped a leg off the table and boxes of equipment and tools crashed to the ground. The beast turned its carmine eyes toward him. Eugene brandished the table leg, his arms shaking.

Opening its mouth, which dripped with a steaming, seemingly acidic saliva that sizzled on the ground, the creature let out another supernatural howl. I covered my head as bits of stinging spittle flew at me, burning my arms like bacon grease.

“Hey, Toby!” A sharp whistle came from our left, and a man wearing Oakleys, board shorts, and an ACL shirt pushed his way through the trees by the shoreline. He snapped his fingers. “Get over here, now!”

The roar quieted to a whimper. Toby turned toward his owner and lowered his head. The man was about six feet tall, and Toby was eye level with him. He reached a hand out and patted Toby on his scaly green snout.

“Sir, get away from that monster!” Eugene still clung to his improvised weapon.

“Monster?” The man grinned and shook his head. “That’s just old Toby getting excited. Don’t let him scare you. Come on, boy.”

The man whistled again and he and Toby headed up the trail. I noticed the man was limping slightly: it looked as though his right foot had enlarged and thickened into some kind of cloven hoof. A torn flip-flop hung at an odd angle, smacking awkwardly against it with each step.

“Wait!” Eugene started to run after the man, but after a few strides, he stopped. He threw the table leg he was still holding into the brush and walked back to where I stood. Beside me in a box of equipment was a spool of caution tape. Eugene grabbed it and tied a knot around a tree branch, muttering something I couldn’t hear under his breath. Then he yanked a line across the trail. He’d just finished securing the other end to a bench when another runner came by and thrust his chest forward, breaking the tape like it was the finish line of a race.

“I can go further up the trail and try to turn people away,” I said. “Don’t worry, Eugene, we’ll get this under control.”

To my right, not far away, I heard a shriek of laughter. Through a gap in the trees I could see the man with the cloven hoof riding on the back of Toby. They were in the middle of the lake, surrounded by a group of paddle boarders who were all trying to climb on as well.

“Eugene, where’s that megaphone you had earlier? I think those people need to know they shouldn’t be riding Toby. Eugene?”

I turned around and he was sitting on the bench, holding his head in his hands. He didn’t say anything for a long time. His eyes were distant, unfocused. Quietly, he again started to mumble words I couldn’t hear.

“Eugene?”

He rocked back and forth, the unintelligible words becoming more erratic and sharp. Then, he threw his head back and laughed at the sky. It was a wild, unhinged laugh, punctuated by dry coughs and wheezes.

I backed away slowly. “Eugene, there’s still time!” I turned to look at the other scientists, their faces invisible behind their masks.

Eugene lowered his gaze and glared at me. “Time? Time?” He shook his head furiously and pounded his hands on the dirt in front of him like a chimpanzee. Then, he ripped off the rest of his hazmat suit and with it, his clothes underneath.

“Eugene!”

It was no use. He was spinning in circles, kicking up dirt and forming a cloud of dust. Then, suddenly, he clambered up the stone ledge behind him and ran across the grass of Auditorium Shores.

“We’re all dead!” he screamed at a woman sitting on a blanket with her two children. They seemed not to hear him. “Dead! Whee!” He twirled his shirt over his head and sprinted through the field, his pale and naked body jumping up and down. When he reached the street, a car almost slammed into him. Turning his backside to the driver, he smacked both hands several times on his buttocks. The driver laid on the horn for a few seconds, and Eugene darted away. He was squealing like an animal. Some people turned to look at him, but most ignored him. He sprinted toward the Long Center, weaving past throngs of people and eventually out of sight.

Feeling nauseous, I slipped on Eugene’s discarded gas mask and sat on the bench to take some more notes on my phone. The remaining scientists began to pack up their equipment and samples.

In the distance, Toby roared.

Editor’s note: In an effort to combat misinformation, The Austin Bluebonnet proudly labels its satire and other fictional content as such. This is a work of fiction. We made this up, either for fun, or because there’s some nugget of truth for you to think about, or both.