by Todd Miller
Chapter 11
I used the last of my money to buy a one-way train ticket home. I kept my baseball hat pulled down low, and tried to blend in as much as possible. The top of the knife poked me in the ribs, the goat-demon’s sharp horns rubbing roughly against my skin.
It was the last train back from Grand Central, but there were still a bunch of people on board. I didn’t see any cops, but I knew they were probably everywhere, and I wondered if they would be looking for me and Kristin. Or maybe I was being paranoid. My biggest fear was getting caught before I had a chance to kill the Spider Lady. If the police grabbed me, they’d confiscate the knife and I’d never see it again.
And then Kristin would be dead forever.
The train pulled out of the station and a few minutes later the conductor took my ticket, not speaking a word as she punched it twice and stuck it through the little loop on top of the seat in front of me. I pretended to be asleep, and kept my face down. Just then a loud group of kids entered the car, looking for seats. It turned out they were all from my school, a bunch of the beautiful people, including those two jerks John and Troy, the jocks who were always bugging me.
They all filed past, giggling and shouting, and ended up sitting just a few seats down from me. I looked out the window and watched as their reflection walked by. My hands started to sweat. I wasn’t sure if they recognized me or not. Probably not. Probably.
But, so what if they did?
For a moment I had this crazy urge to jump up and stab them all in the chest with the magic knife. They all deserved it, I thought. They all deserved to die.
My fingers reached for the knife, brushing the cool handle. Part of my brain was screaming to kill them. But that would be stupid. Reckless. Evil.
I had to shake my head back and forth a few times to clear my thoughts.
The train slowly plodded along, going from one station to the next. The blinding lights of the city faded away and were replaced by quiet backyards and desolate boarding platforms, all smeared with giant advertisements.
Every once and awhile I caught John or Troy looking in my direction.
Then Troy nudged John and pointed at me.
I stood up and bolted for the exit, eyes fixed straight ahead. I had no idea when we’d be stopping for the next station, but I had to get off the train.
I had to get off the train now.
Now.
So I broke into a run.
Heads started turning, curious glances, frowns, people moving out of the way. I ran into the next car, and pulled the emergency brake cord. The train protested and screeched, brakes squealing as it jerked to an abrupt stop.
People were shouting and cursing now. I ran down the length of the car. There was a conductor at the opposite end and I barreled into him as hard as I could, knocking the guy into the laps of a bunch of passengers.
Then somebody grabbed my arm and I slammed my fist into their face. Quickly I opened the door between cars, and stepped out onto the little platform connecting them. It was a short, but dangerous hop over all the cables and wires and then I was stumbling down an embankment and into a chain-link fence. The fence was topped with a row of barbed wire.
People were pointing out the window, and the conductors were shining flashlights into the darkness, searching for me. I could even hear them chattering to one another on their walkie-talkies. I stumbled through old soda cans, broken glass and all kinds of other trash, looking for some way past the fence.
Eventually I realized that I was going to have to climb it. I scrambled up the links as fast as I could, then grabbed the barbed wire and grit my teeth in pain as my palms were torn and shredded. Then I was up and over, but not before another barb ripped my jeans and cut open my leg.
I ran through somebody’s backyard, past silent houses on sleepy streets. Blood was oozing down my hands, dribbling off my fingertips. Up ahead I saw a small shopping center. There was a Chinese restaurant, a liquor store, dry cleaner, and a small convenience store. The lights were on inside. I hit the door panting, sweating, freaking out. It jangled and a blast of cool air gave me goose bumps.
There was a man behind the counter, watching a small T.V. One of those tabloid cable news programs, about missing girls and murdered husbands. He quickly glanced at me, then turned his attention back to the screen. I saw the words FATHER OF SUSPECTED KILLER on the television and stopped.
The man on the T.V. looked familiar.
Like somebody in an old photograph.
And then it hit me.
He was my dad.
Older, scraggly, kind of sad and worn-out. But it was him.
“Please, Charlie,” he said. “I’m urging you to come forward and turn yourself into the police. Let the madness stop. We all want to help you, son.”
I stood transfixed.
“Is there anything else you’d like to add, Mr. Berger, for our viewers at home?” said one of the talking-heads.
“Charlie was always a very good boy,” my father said.
I didn’t know what to feel, watching him talk about me on national television. Part of me seethed with rage, but there were tears forming in my eyes.
I started laughing, then hugging my sides and shaking all over.
“Can I help you?” a voice said.
It was the man from behind the counter.
“No thanks,” I said.
With my gaze broken from the T.V., I searched the aisles for something to stop the bleeding. There were a few boxes of gauze bandages on a dusty shelf, shoved between the foot powder and contact solution. I shoved two in my pockets, then opened a third and began winding the white gauze around my bleeding palms.
“Hey, you can’t do that in here. You’ve got to pay for that.”
I looked at him. Middle-aged guy. Kinda fat. Greasy hair.
Kill him, I thought.
It would be so easy.
Cut his throat, take the money and run.
His soft, flabby pink throat
No, forget the money.
Cut him open and decorate the store with his insides.
Blood raining down from the ceiling in tiny red droplets.
“I’m calling the cops,” he said.
That snapped me out of it.
“No, no, no,” I said. “I can pay you, except, I don’t have any money, but, hey, you know what? I’m famous. That’s right. I killed a bunch of people. Remember all those kids? I killed them. Me. Right here.”
The man was backing away now. It occurred to me he might have a shotgun somewhere behind that counter.
“Wait, wait, it’s cool, man. It’s cool. How about an autograph? In exchange for the bandages? You could sell it on eBay, see?”
He shook his head, no.
“Lots of people like freaky stuff like that,” I said.
Kill him, I thought.
It would be so easy.
No.
I pushed past him and ran for the door. I expected to hear gunshots behind me, but all I heard was the tiny jangle of the door bell.
I ran until my lungs hurt.
What the hell was happening to me? Where were these thoughts coming from? And then I realized. It was because I sold one-fifth of my soul to that bald, little dwarf, Mr. Cat. That was the only good part, he had told me. And now I was stuck with four-fifths of pure rot.
Could that one-fifth maybe grow back? Like a lizard tail or a starfish arm, something like that? Maybe if I did a bunch of good deeds, helped a lot of old people across the street?
Man, I hoped so.
Otherwise it was all over for me.
Eventually I found a street I recognized, and followed it back to my old neighborhood.
Good old Elmwood. One heck of a town.
I spotted up ahead the winding road that led past the high school and into those dark, terrible woods. There were a bunch of police cars there, lights flashing, and barricades blocking the street. But from where I was standi
ng I couldn’t see a single policeman.
The CB radio in one of the squad cars suddenly exploded with a burst of static and noise, some garbled voice squawking strange numbers.
And then silence.
As I approached the barricades I saw something on the ground, human-shaped, grey, immobile. It was a body, completely covered in spider webs. There were others, scattered haphazardly around the road. They must all have been cops, I guessed, wrapped up like mummies in thick gooey strands of webbing.
None of them moved. Not even a twitch.
They were all dead.
And crawling all over each one of them were hundreds of tiny spiders. Spinning and weaving. Soon the bodies would be ready to liquefy and eat…
Suddenly the CB radio squealed to life again and I heard a familiar voice.
“Hello, Charlie. I knew you would come back.”
It was her.
Kristin.
No, it was Kristin’s voice, but it wasn’t her.
It was the Spider Lady.
“I’m so anxious to see you, Charlie. Do hurry, won’t you? Just follow the yellow light, and soon…we’ll be together again.”
A faint flicker in the distance caught my eye. It was a weak, pale yellow beacon and I walked toward it, already knowing where I was going.
Back to the tower.
Back to where this nightmare began.
As I walked, it seemed like millions of red eyes of all shapes and sizes gazed upon me. The forest floor was covered with a thick, undulating blanket of spiders and they quickly scurried out of my path. Like I was Moses parting the Red Sea. They were silent as I passed through them, but I could hear the movements of their legs, soft, furry, scuttling sounds.
The tower was glowing the color of sickness, a strange ocher that hurt my eyes. The air surrounding it tasted sour, and smelled like rotten meat. The fence around the tower was completely covered in thick spider webs, and I could see the shapes of various animals wrapped up in their sticky strands.
I saw birds, a raccoon, dogs and cats, a deer, and several that looked human-sized. There were paws poking out through the webs, snouts, hooves and fingers. When I approached, the spiders somehow created an opening for me to climb through, peeling away the webs and whatever had remained of the original fence.
The door to the Tower was open. My heart began to thump in my chest. I pulled out the knife and held it out in front of me.
Kill her, I thought.
No, no.
I’m going to save her.
Standing around outside the tower were her ghosts. Pale, despairing things. The little girl wearing the witch mask. The ghost with half a head. The ghost of Jason Morgan, and all the others, watching me approach the Tower door.
“Join us,” they whispered.
“Join your brothers and sisters.”
The inside of the Tower was white, like ash, or dead skin. There were bodies all over the floor, stacks and stacks of papery slabs; all of them dried-up human husks, bloodless and boneless with gaping, empty pits for eyes, their mouths open in a terrible, silent scream.
“Welcome home, Charlie.”
She descended from a giant web that went from floor to ceiling. I looked up and saw Kristin, but not Kristin. She was horrible and beautiful at the same time. There were extra pairs of eyes popping out of her forehead, and her mouth had grown a pair of hideous, fleshy mandibles. Eight large, hairy black spider legs sprouted from her torso, and she was covered with sharp black hairs.
I wanted to run away, but I couldn’t.
“My, my, look at you,” she said. “Is there something different about you, Charlie?”
“No,” I said.
“You probably noticed there’s something different about me. I failed, Charlie. All my magic…useless. I wasn’t able to break the curse, and now it’s transformed me into this...this hideous...creature...”
“I can help you,” I said, raising the knife.
“What is that?”
“The solution to all our problems,” I said.
The Spider Lady laughed.
“Oh, Charlie, are you going to stab me with your little knife? I don’t think so, dear boy.”
Her eyes began to glow red.
“Take the knife and cut your own throat,” she said in a deeper voice. “Now. Do as I command.”
I felt a slight twinge and then it was gone.
I smiled and took a step toward her.
“Ah, so there is something different about you after all. Yes, I can see it now. Something is missing. Oh, poor boy, you are a fool, do you know that?”
Kill her, I thought.
“What an unusual knife you have. It has power, doesn’t it?”
“I want to talk to Kristin,” I said.
“Kristin is part of us now,” said the Spider Lady. “I am her and she is me and we are all together. We are transformed. The old Kristin is gone.”
I flinched. Then I took another step toward her.
The Spider Lady looked at my face.
“I was always fond of you, Charlie. From that first moment I saw you as a baby. When I claimed you as one of my own.”
Kill.
“Of course I love all my children, but you were always my favorite, Charlie. You and I have a special bond, yes? Perhaps a mother shouldn’t love her son so much. In that way. It isn’t natural. More like a dream. We are lovers in a dream, aren’t we, Charlie? A dangerous, horrible, wonderful dream.”
The Spider Lady was gliding toward me now.
“Come to me, my darling boy. Hold me.”
I felt her legs enveloping me, pulling me toward her. She looked so sad. I put my arms around her swollen, furry body and turned my face away from her many eyes, resting my chin on her shoulder. She still smelled a little like Kristin.
“I am the only one who loves you, Charlie. Forever and always.”
Her many arms felt strong and comforting.
“Say that you love me, Charlie. Please, say it.”
I could feel the knife tingling hot in my hand.
“I—I can’t. I’m different now, like you said...”
She frowned sadly.
“Are you...are you my real mother?” I asked.
She brushed the hair back from my forehead and her touch was warm.
“I am the mother of spiders.”
She smiled painfully.
“I don’t want to be a spider,” I said.
“Neither do I, Charlie. I take no pleasure in this form. What good is living forever when you look like this? Monstrous, ugly…and alone. I’ve been lonely and unhappy for so long, Charlie. All your brothers and sisters...they love me, but they don’t understand my suffering. Not like you do, Charlie.”
Kill the Spider Lady.
“Honestly, I’m ready for it to end.”
Kill her.
“How’s it going to end, Charlie?”
She looked at me with her many eyes and I almost couldn’t move.
Then I raised my arm up and stabbed her in the heart with the magic knife. Instantly she shrieked and drew back, blood spouting out of the wound in her chest.
I was screaming incoherently as I stabbed her in the heart again. She fell down to her human knees, spider limbs writhing everywhere. I took a step back and looked at her, so unhappy, so pitiful, and I stabbed her for the last time.
There was a bright flash of light and a sound like a thunderclap. I was knocked flat on my back, my eyes blinded. I heard something roaring and when my sight returned, I saw three figures floating before me, twisting in pain.
The first was Kristin, clutching the wound in her chest, gasping for breath. Next to her was Elvira, still young and beautiful, her eyes cast upwards, with the strangest look of profound relief upon her face. And finally, a gigantic, monstrous spider, dark and twisted, all black with white markings and howling with rage.
It clambered toward me in a terrible blur, its phantom fangs bi
ting down into my chest. I felt like I was being electrocuted, and my body shook with terrible spasms. The spider retreated for a moment, then lunged toward me again. This time I raised my knife and slashed at it like a madman, when suddenly it started to break apart and shoot off into the sky.
Elvira was next, spinning and turning like a top through the air, aging faster and faster until she became nothing but a skeleton whose bones were scattered into dust on an angry wind.
The Tower was silent. The strange yellow glow had vanished. I was in the dark, surrounded by dead bodies. I looked at my blood covered hand, the blood covered knife, and I rejoiced.
I did it. I killed her.
And I was going to keep on killing. First, I’d go back to New York City and kill that little dwarf Mr. Cat. Then, I’d kill everybody who ever did me wrong. I’d kill John and Troy, and all those other kids who ever messed with me. Then I’d kill Dean Carter, and all of my teachers, and everyone else at the school, too; the librarian, the lunch ladies, the Chess Club and every single last pom-pom waving cheerleader.
And then I’d kill all the police. And my dad and Aunt Rose. Then I’d kill everybody in the town of Elmwood. The streets would be full of dismembered bodies when I was done, blood and limbs and heads and houses burning in flames and the whole neighborhood on fire with gigantic pillars of smoke licking the sky, forever and ever until I killed everyone on Earth.
“Charlie...” said a voice, weakly.
I looked down. Kristin was watching me with half-lidded eyes.
She was back. She was back to normal.
Except that she was clutching her chest, and there was blood all over her hands and shirt.
“Help me...” she said.
Finish her. Cut off her head.
No.
Stop. Stop!
I threw away the Dagger of Sorrows and it landed somewhere in the Tower with a sharp and angry clang. My hand reached out to touch her, but I pulled it back.
“Kristin,” I said.
“Hurry, Charlie,” she said, her eyes fluttering.
I picked her up in my arms and staggered out the door. My brain was on fire with terrible thoughts, but I beat them down by repeating her name, over and over again.
Kristin. Kristin. Kristin.
“I love you,” I told her.
She was unconscious.
I couldn’t let her die. I had to get help. It didn’t matter what happened to me now. All that mattered was helping Kristin, helping her live.
The ghosts were gone. The spiders were all dead on the ground, hundreds of them with all their legs stuck in the air. Their webs had sagged and pulled apart, spindly things that would soon disappear forever.
I trudged past them all, through the hole in the fence and into the woods.
Someone was blocking my way.
It was a figure, a body, badly decomposed, clothes hanging off it in rags. Under one of its arms it held its head, like a football.
“Hey, Curtis,” I said.
He staggered toward me, raising his arm. I noticed the spider inside his skull was shriveled up and dead. He shouldn’t even be moving anymore. But then I figured, he must be operating on pure hate. Hate for me.
“Look, Curtis, I really need to get Kristin to a hospital. See? See the blood? She’s going to die if I don’t get her to a hospital. So, please, please, let me go. Just this one more time. I promise. And then you can kill me. Really. I want you to kill me. Okay?”
He stood there, looking at us, thinking.
Then he slowly stepped aside and let us pass.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Next time,” said Curtis’s head.
“You bet,” I said. “Just wait right here. I’ll be right back.”
I stumbled past him, struggling to carry Kristin’s body. Her shirt was soaked with blood. Big smears of it were all over my arms. Her forehead was covered with little beads of sweat. Her lips were turning white and her eyes had closed.
“I’m going to get help, Kristin, okay? You hear me? I’m going to get help so don’t die, you hear me? Everything’s okay. You’re going to be okay, and I’m going to get you to a hospital. Understand? Kristin?”
She let out a low, small moan.
The woods were never-ending. Kristin was getting heavier, and it was all I could do to shuffle one foot in front of the next. The muscles in my arms ached, my neck hurt, and my knees started to wobble.
Even worse, my chest was beginning to burn where the giant phantom spider had bit me. I could feel the heat spreading painfully out across my body. Finally, I couldn’t hold Kristin any longer, and we fell to the ground.
I struggled to lift her up again.
“Don’t worry, Kristin. Here we go. Here we go.”
I picked her up and staggered a few more steps.
I know this sounds crazy, but as I held her, I tried to will my life into her body. I closed my eyes and imagined a shimmering, electrical mist pouring from my body into hers.
But nothing happened.
“Open your eyes, Kristin, okay? Can you hear me?”
I tried to pretend that she was just sleeping, but then I realized that was stupid. She was covered with blood and she was dead. She didn’t look too peaceful, either. Like, they always say you look peaceful after you die, but that was obviously a lie. She just looked kind of sad and surprised.
I had failed her. She could have lived, if I had just—what?
Not stabbed her three times in the heart?
At least Elvira and her spider curse were gone. Kristin was herself again.
For all the good it would do her now.
Hot tears ran down my cheeks.
My girl was dead.
Hell, she probably didn’t even like me that much.
What an idiot I was.
Up ahead, I saw people running toward us. The police.
Kill them.
Oh, God—not again!
Kill them all!
No!
“Look, the spiders are all dead.”
“What happened?”
“Hey, you! Kid!”
And then they were swarming all around me, dressed in bullet-proof vest and helmets, clutching assault rifles and jabbering all at once.
Blood and flesh and brains and pain—
“You okay, kid?”
“My friend,” I said. “Please—please help her.”
“Put her down.”
“Somebody get a medic!”
“What’s your name?”
“Please help my friend,” I said.
Pain and murder and death—
“Take it easy, kid.”
“She’s losing a lot of blood.”
“Heartbeat is weak.”
Heartbeat…?
“You got a name, kid?”
She’s…still alive?
“Kid, who did this to her?”
She’s still alive.
“Radio for a medevac, now!”
She’s alive!
“Hey, kid, I’m talking to you.”
“Try to stabilize her. Stop the bleeding.”
“Is she going to make it?” I asked.
“Keep your fingers crossed,” the cop said to me.
I stood on my tip-toes to get one last look at Kristin, over the busy shoulders of the paramedics. I could just see her face. Her eyes opened a little.
“Goodbye, Kristin,” I said.
And then I quickly turned and ran back into the woods. The cops were shouting something at me, but I kept running. Running and jumping, my feet turning from bricks into wheels of fire.
The darkness was fading now, the sky was turning pink and white, the clouds ringed with gold. Up ahead there was a figure, standing alone, a dark black pillar against the green of the forest and I ran toward it as fast as I could.
“Curtis,” I said.
And I reached out to grab his cold, withered hand.
THE EN
D
