“Oh, fuck... What the hell was Ramona growing?” Mr Derek groaned, his arm now a mottled crimson from wrist to elbow.

Carl sprang into action, steadying him. “Sir, keep still. The containment team’s en route.”

“Wait—take this antihistamine,” Bianca urged, sprinting to the Bentley and rummaging through her slingback. She returned, pressing a single pill into Derek’s shaking palm. “It’ll dull the burning.” 

Raymond adjusted his glasses, peering at the sinister foliage. “That’s stinging nettle. Touch it, and you’ll be rewarded with a rash that feels like acid.”

"Where would Ramona even get nettle seeds? And why plant them?" Rafayel mused, kicking at the ash-choked soil. "And this box, buried...