The masks also, I noted, did a good job at hiding the identities of the six men and two women. If it weren’t for that, I’d think Coil was trying to be funny, giving the hazmat crew to the bug girl.
Whatever image I conveyed, whether it was in the role of a leader or as a potentially dangerous villain, it had given me elbow room. Coil’s employees had chosen to sit, cramped together, closer to the rear of the truck. I sat atop a crate with my back to the truck’s cab, watching the road behind us.
In a way, it was good that I wasn’t engaging in conversation. It let me focus on what I needed to – my bugs.
Generally speaking, there were two routes I tended to go. The first put me in one spot, drawing my bugs from the area. A three block radius made for a good number of bugs. The second situation came about when I’d taken the time to gather a few select bugs from here or there, while covering a whole lot more area. I’d done it before the bank robbery, to get a prime selection of bugs. I’d also done it before we attacked the ABB the first time, with the other groups. Never enough to draw attention.
This was different. This time, I wanted attention. This time, the city was a breeding ground for the bugs. Warm, moist, and filled with food. This time, I was gathering everything I could and I was covering a lot of ground.
We’d been driving for fifteen minutes around the perimeter of what I hoped would be my territory, gradually closing in towards the center. I found the bugs closest to the edges and sent them toward the middle. Of the ones that could fly, I had them gather overhead. It was more bugs than I’d ever controlled at once. My power seemed to crackle in my head as I drew in and interpreted all of the data.
I was almost convinced I would finally see the upper limit of my power. That I’d reach for more bugs and realize I couldn’t control any more. It didn’t happen.
The clouds of bugs that were gathering in the center of my territory were starting to cast a visible shadow on the area.
They weren’t the only bugs I controlled. I had others on separate tasks. With a number, I created barriers, heavy clouds in alleyways and across streets. My motives here were purely selfish – I laid these barriers between the southmost end of the old Boardwalk and the Docks because I didn’t want my dad entering the area. My gut told me that if he got a good look at me in costume, he’d know who I was.
Besides, it didn’t factor into my plan.
I had other bugs sweep through the inside of the buildings in my range. I made contact with people, stirring some from their sleep. As I sat on the crate in the back of the truck, nearly motionless, I was making a tally. How many people were here, and where were they?
When I had a sense of things, I began organizing my bugs into formations. I started in the areas with lots of people clustered together: a warehouse with no less than eighteen people; a tenement crammed with what I assumed were families, with lots of small children; and an overly warm building with a large group of half-dressed people drenched in sweat.
As I got those groups out of the way, I turned to targeting smaller groups, probably collections of families or friends. Where people were too deep in their sleep, I had the bugs nip at them to wake them.
They would wake up and see what I’d done. On their walls and floors, much as I’d done at the fundraiser, I had my bugs organized into arrows, pointing the way out the doors, down to the streets, and towards the truck’s destination. I drew out the letters to the word ‘supplies’ and left them in the brightest lit, warmest spots in the rooms where people were. Accounting for the illiterate, I put the bugs down in the shapes of basic food – a drumstick, a cut of cheese, a can.
I knew I wasn’t the best artist. I worried I was confusing matters with the pictures. I could only cross my fingers.
Today wasn’t one of the days my power was working double time, with double the range. I’d wanted to make sure to reach as many as I could, so I’d started drawing the arrows and words with the bugs early. The unfortunate downside of that was that it meant we were left with barely any time to set up after we arrived at our destination. I’d knocked on the window to get the driver to stop at an intersection where the road was torn up and traffic was difficult for conventional vehicles.
I stayed in the truck as Coil’s men unloaded it. I sensed some of the people venturing out of their residences, and I was careful to leave them unmolested by the bugs, using only what I had to in order to track them. Watching from windows and entryways, encouraged by those who left, others ventured to follow.
The area in which I’d ordered the truck to stop was open. I hoped would encourage the growing crowd to approach. The truck was parked in the middle of the road, and the boxes were unloaded onto the ground just below the rear of the truck. I wasn’t sure I liked that they were getting wet, but I knew they were at least partially waterproof. I should have thought to ask Coil for some kind of platform or pallet to set them down on.
It wasn’t two minutes before the first people started to arrive. The first few were kids, no older than ten, gathered in a loose pack, maintaining a wary distance. The next two groups were families, parents with their kids in tow. I noted that the group of men who stepped out of an alley were armed, with knives and clubbing weapons hidden under their clothes and in their jackets. One of them swatted one of the flies I was using to feel him out. Were they members of the Merchants, or just a band of grown men that had taken to carrying weapons to protect themselves?
I’d known this move of mine would attract people of all types. If they were Merchants, I was okay with that, I’d accounted for it. Above all, I knew that this offering of supplies would attract the people who were hungry enough to venture out into the outdoors with the oppressive cloud of bugs looming above them. I would also attract the people who would want to confront me, Merchants included.
As people arrived and some ventured closer to the pile of boxes, one of Coil’s workers cast a wary glance over his shoulder, in my general direction. I should have told Coil’s men not to look my way or show any uncertainty. It would hurt the effect I had hoped to generate. To dissuade people from taking the supplies, I set a cloud of bugs around the piles of boxes, enough to be obvious without obscuring what was there. One of the guys with weapons approached anyways, and I had the swarm move towards him, condensing into a dark shape, buzzing loudly. He backed off.
In this manner, weighing enticement against implicit threat, I managed to keep the crowd in place as it grew to dozens, then a hundred people, with more still approaching, pushing the number closer to two hundred. Barely a fifth of all the people I’d tried to get in touch with. I was okay with that. It was enough to spread the word.
I was taking a risk, here. Gambling. It was like betting someone a million dollars that you’d hit a bullseye, when you’d barely played darts before. It wasn’t that I was confident this would succeed. It was that I really needed that million dollars.
In short, I needed to get underway with Coil’s agenda, and I needed to do it fast.
More people were still making their way towards us, joining the crowd. The bystanders would be getting more confident with numbers at their back, and they would be getting increasingly worried that if the crowd grew too large, maybe they wouldn’t get any supplies for themselves. If I put it off any longer, they could mob us, and I didn’t want that.
No, my gut told me this had reached the point where I had to act. From my seat in the truck, I drew my bugs together into a humanoid shape, and had the figure approach from the rear of the crowd, walking towards me. I waited, my attention focused on my swarm’s senses.
There was a gasp, then a general murmur. A woman shrieked. I felt the crowd part, heard the shouts. They’d noticed the figure I’d created with the swarm.
Most eyes would be on it, now. I scattered its shape and had the swarm leap or shoot towards the rear of the truck in a loose blob, arcing slowly through the air to land at the rear of the truck, on top of the crates.
The moment I knew the crowd would be un
able to see, I stepped out of my hiding spot and into the midst of the swarm. I scattered the bugs explosively, sending every one of the bugs flying or crawling directly away from me, revealing myself. The people closest to the pile of crates I was standing on backed away.
To the crowd, it would look like I’d just transported myself to the back of the truck and materialized from the swarm. I hoped. It was a cheap ploy, obvious to anyone who thought about it. I was banking on the fact that the swarm I had blocking out most of the sun and the whole dramatic lead-up would help sell the illusion.
I kept the bugs swirling around me, tightly packed together so they would be moving in tendrils and loops. Like Grue habitually did with his power, I was aiming to use my own abilities to make myself look bigger, more impressive. It was like a dog raising its hackles or a cat arching its back.
“Some of you know of me!” I called out, and the noises of the swarm accented the words, gave an eerie, strangely loud echo to my voice. “My name is Skitter!”
I looked over the crowd. So many kids. So many who looked sick, pale with red cheeks. Some people were dressed too heavily for this warm weather. Everyone was dirty and damp, their hair greasy and clothes wrinkled.
My eyes fell on a figure in the back of the crowd, who stood out because she wasn’t unwashed or wrinkled. Her white and gray costume had patterns on it in light blue that weren’t too different from a circuit board. She leaned against a power pole, her arms folded, content to watch. The people nearest her were watching her as much as they watched me.
I’d known I’d attract attention from the heroes. Still, it was intimidating, a reminder of how fragile this whole thing was.
I swallowed. I had to be confident. I lowered my volume a step, relying on my swarm to convey my words for me. It wasn’t perfect, there were parts of speech they weren’t good at making, but it worked well enough that I kept at it. “I am laying claim to this area! From this moment, I rule this territory!”
People could have booed or jeered. I’d been almost convinced they would. Instead, I heard a murmur running through the crowd. Battery hadn’t budged, but I saw her pressing her fingers to her ear, and her lips were moving. She didn’t turn her head away from me, and I could imagine her staring at me.
“I am not the ABB, I am not the Merchants, the Empire or the Chosen! I am acting in your interests!”
Our group had discussed this, after talking to Coil the other night, and we’d hammered out more details yesterday, passing on the details to the Travelers. Our methods would vary wildly, but we were all making our bids for territory this morning. I decided not to mention that. Let the others arrive at that conclusion themselves.
“I demand no money from you, I do not intend to interfere in your lives unless you interfere in mine! I do not want to take or destroy what you have!”
I pointed at the crates that were beneath my feet. I lowered my voice. “These supplies are yours, a gift from me to you. And there will be more, delivered regularly for as long as I am here. My abilities will mean there will be no buzzing or biting flies harassing you, no cockroaches crawling over you as you sleep. I am offering you protection, security, and reprieve, for as long as you are my subjects! All I require is that you obey my rules, so hear me!”
“No gangs will operate here. Merchants? Chosen? I know some of you are in this crowd. Consider this my declaration of war. I will not permit you to sell drugs, to hurt my people or steal from them, or to seek shelter in my territory!”
I raised my hand, and the swarm gathered coalesced into a tight mass above me, a vaguely spherical shape, six feet in diameter.
“My bugs can devour a cow to the bone in one and a half minutes.” I had no idea if that was true. It sounded good. “I have a million eyes to watch you with. Go elsewhere.“
“To everyone else! If you assist any of these groups, give them food, shelter, or business? If you sell drugs, steal or prey on people in this area, you lose my goodwill. You will receive no more supplies, and you will earn my attention, with eyes on you for every waking hour. That’s strike one. If I catch you doing it again? I treat you as one of the enemy.”
I let my words hang in the air for effect, and to give my audience time to consider what I was saying. I glanced at Battery. She wasn’t moving to stop me… interesting.
“Each box contains enough basic food rations for four people. They also have first aid supplies and water filters. These supplies will keep you going until we can start fixing things and making more basic conveniences available.”
“If you want more? Work for me. This work does not have to be criminal, for I need people to pass on messages, to act as spokespersons for these neighborhoods, and to clean up or rebuild. For anyone who does assist me, them and their families will have access to some of those foods you miss, to showers and electricity, and generous payment. You and your loved ones will be dry, clean, and you will have fresh clothes.”
I looked over the crowd. I could see people getting restless. At least they weren’t lynching me.
“Thank you for listening. These supplies are yours to take. One to each family or group, up to two if your family is large enough.”
My monologue finished, I waited. Nobody ventured forward. Had I done too effective a job at intimidating them?
I was just starting to wonder what I’d do if nobody moved, when the first man stepped forward, followed immediately by his wife and a pair of kids. The wife had a very red nose and circles under her eyes that made me think she had a bad cold. The parents didn’t make eye contact with me as they accepted the box that one of Coil’s workers lifted down to hand to them. The children hid behind their mother. There was no gratitude, nor any thanks given, as the father turned to carry the box of food and necessities back to wherever he was taking shelter.
Seeing the first family leaving with their supplies, others grew brave enough to venture forward. In moments, there was a crush of bodies. I stepped onto the back of the truck as the boxes disappeared from beneath me, and I watched the crowd for any violence or fighting. One altercation began as two men both grabbed the same box. Before their violent tugging match got them or someone else hurt, I sent a buzzing flurry of bugs in between them. They dropped the box and backed off, staring at me. When I didn’t move to stop them or do anything further, they each returned to the pile to scrounge up different boxes, leaving the other on its side in the water.
There wasn’t enough in the way of supplies. I could see the atmosphere shift slightly as people realized it. There were too many people present versus the amount of boxes Coil had provided me, even with one box serving a whole family.
I knew Coil had more – his underground base had stored ridiculous amounts, so he had access to a supplier, or he was the supplier. I began formulating a plan, figuring out how I’d get boxes to those who were walking away from here empty-handed.
I was interrupted from my thoughts. A man shouted, and I saw the crowd backing away.
It was one of the men who’d had a weapon. He’d drawn and swung a crude knife to ward people off and grinned maniacally at the reaction he was getting. The scruff of beard on his chin was white, but it seemed rather premature given his apparent age. He was shirtless, with a long sleeve shirt tied around his waist, and scratches crisscrossing his upper body. His buddies stood back, smirking and grinning.
It was a bad judgement call to pull this right in front of me, but I supposed people were at a point where they weren’t at their most rational. That, or he was high on something. I could see him as a member of the Merchants, either way.
“Big man,” I called out, “You feel proud with that knife of yours?”
He turned towards me, “Fuck you! I’m not scared of bugs.”
I stepped down from the back of the truck. People backed away, but the man held his ground. As I got closer, I saw how his eyes were too wide, and he chewed his lip like it was trying to get away from him.
“You a member of the Merchants?” I asked.
>
“Fuck you!” he snarled.
I wasn’t going to be able to have a conversation with this guy.
“Fine. Don’t care. You’re threatening my people? You’d better be ready to take me on.”
“Not scared of you!”
I shrugged, “Prove it. Use that rusty thing on me. Stab me.”
He looked around at the crowd, hesitated.
“What?” I asked him. “I thought you weren’t scared.”
“I’m not!”
“Then stab me!” I raised my voice, shouted at him. “Or are you just a bully, getting weak in the knees when you’re facing someone that stands up to you!?”
He made a motion as if he was going to lunge for me, then stopped.
“Pathetic,” I snarled. Not for the crowd. I said it for him and him alone.
He lunged, holding the knife with both hands to drive it into my stomach, just beside where I had the armor. I resisted the urge to bend over, but I did have to step back for balance, and I had to put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself. I clutched his shoulders, digging my nails in for grip. I could feel pain radiate from my stomach and into my lower abdomen and chest. That was despite the fact that the fabric of my costume had kept it from piercing my flesh.
I forced myself to stand straighter, still holding his shoulders. He stabbed again, but it was ineffectual. Knocking one of my hands from his shoulder, he used the space that gave him to slash at my throat. The first hit had hurt because of the force of the charge behind it, I could almost ignore these follow-up strikes. He stepped back and looked at his knife, confused. I hadn’t gone down.
I extended my arm and let the bugs flow from beneath my costume in one swift movement, like water poured from a cup, covering him. The crowd backed away as the man began screaming incoherently. He threw himself backward into the inch-deep water and rolled around like he was trying to put out a fire. Maybe he was – the bugs I’d set on him were laced with capsaicin.
Worm Page 116
