Читать книгу The Zombie Book - Nick Redfern - Страница 17

While the human race has yet to experience a zombie outbreak of the type that decimates society to a massive degree, such a thing has most assuredly already occurred in other species. Take, for example, the ant. Ants are particularly susceptible to a particular kind of fungus that has the startling ability to control their mental faculties and use and manipulate them in what is very much a zombie-like state. It’s a fungus called Ophiocordyceps unilateralis. As to how and why this particular fungus works so well, one only has to take a look at the movie version of World War Z, which was based on Max Brooks’ novel of the same name.

One of the main reasons why the movie was given a “13” certificate, rather than a “Restricted” rating, was because it one hundred percent lacked the graphic slaughtering and devouring of the uninfected that are staple parts of The Walking Dead, Night of the Living Dead, and Day of the Dead. Certainly, in Brooks’ novel, the zombies act like the typical reanimated cannibals we have all come to know and love: there is lots of blood, gore, and the living torn to pieces.

The movie, however, makes two very drastic changes from the approach of the book: (a) the infected are of the fast-running kind, rather than of the slow and steady variety; and (b) those affected by the virus are not driven to kill and eat people—in the slightest. In fact, quite the opposite is the case: the sole goal of the mutated monsters is to spread the virus by infecting as many unfortunate souls as possible. After the infected bite down hard on their victims, they simply move onto the next person, and the next, and the next. Eating the attacked in bloody fashion isn’t even a part of the equation, hence the “13” certificate. Those who unfortunately fall victim to a bite transform within a matter of seconds, or minutes, and are equally driven to spread the infection. And this all brings us back to Ophiocordyceps unilateralis and the ant population.

In the same way that in the World War Z movie, the spreading of the virus is the only goal of the zombies, Ophiocordyceps unilateralis acts in an extremely similar fashion: it’s all about survival and absolutely nothing else. The whole process eerily mirrors the average zombie movie. Ophiocordyceps unilateralis is what is known as a parasitoid. In essence, the virus relies upon a host to allow it to live and thrive. The zombies of the World War Z movie chose us. Ophiocordyceps unilateralis chooses ants, specifically one kind: Camponotus leonardi, the carpenter ant.

The deadliest part of a zombie is not the creature itself, but its mouth, which, via a savage bite, spreads the undead virus, usually in mere seconds. It is very much the same with Ophiocordyceps unilateralis too: it’s not so much the fungus itself that the ants have to be wary and worried of, but its spores. As soon as the spores enter an ant’s body, it’s already a case of game over. And that is when another zombie parallel occurs: the brain of the ant becomes significantly affected, to the point where its behavior becomes erratic in the extreme. Also mirroring the average zombie outbreak and the actions of the survivors, the uninfected ants are able to recognize those that have turned and they quickly remove them from the colony in an effort to prevent the beginning and escalation of an ant apocalypse.

Certainly, removing the infected is the only option available, since there is no cure for the fungal infection. Those ants affected by the spores are destined for short, horrific and very strange lives. In an acutely weird fashion, the zombie ants effectively become mind-controlled by the fungus and are driven to find a nearby tree, to climb it, and to bite down hard on one of its leaves. That’s right: just like their human equivalents, the ants of the dead deliver savage bites. This is not done as a means to devour or infect the plant, however. Rather, the purpose is to provide a stable surface for the parasitoid to thrive on: when the teeth clamp down, they never let go. Very appropriately, and when also addressing the zombie parallels, this action is termed the “death grip.”

Ants can be infected with fungi that modify their behavior, turning them into insect zombies.

At that point, and now completely done with controlling the mind of the ant, Ophiocordyceps unilateralis invades, to a massive degree, the body of its host. The ant is not digested, however. Rather, the fungus has the remarkable ability to actually strengthen the body of the ant and turns its skeleton into nothing less than a form of highly effective armor. There is a very good reason for this: this particular parasitoid is reliant upon a heavily protected host in which it can thrive without being threatened by outside forces, such as other fungus, as well as insects, birds, or small animals that may try and eat the ant. With the jaws of the ant still clamped on the leaf—even in death—and its body turned into a toughened shell, there is very little chance of the fungus, growing deep inside the body of the ant, being adversely affected. To further ensure that the ant remains firmly affixed to the leaf, the fungus not only grows within its host, but it also starts to spread outwards. Tough threads, known as mycelium, break through the surface skin of the ant and affix themselves to the leaf, thereby allowing for additional support.

Finally, the sporocarp, on which the spores of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis develop, tears its way through the neck of the ant and stands tall in stalk-like fashion. Roughly a week or so later, the spores are released and the process of infection, of yet more and more ants, begins again. And again. And again. To the average human, a zombie-like ant apocalypse might not sound like a big deal. But try telling that to the ants.