by Troy McCombs
***
The Highlander pulled up to the curb less than ten minutes later. Mary's car, a red Saturn, was already parked in the small driveway beside their new house. Mary was not in her car, nor was she anywhere in sight. This brutal fact made Josh sick to his stomach. He didn't want to lose his wife to the same thing he'd lost his daughter to. If she was in that house, she was either dead already or not far from it.
“Where's she? Where's mom?” Steve demanded, looking around.
“Not inside, I hope.”
Steve went to ask another question, but after looking at his father's distraught face, he decided not to. He could see the pronounced panic in all his features: quivering lips; twitching, glazed-over eyes; a pallid flesh tone. The man was doing everything he could to hold his act together.
“Steve, you wait right here. Understand? I don't want you to move from this seat. If you step one foot from this vehicle, you're gonna be in a world of shit.”
“Believe me, I ain't stepping anywhere near that house!”
Josh looked up at the house and its three dormer windows, its wraparound porch, its front door that led into a trap where unknown spiders dwelled. Now he knew why the realtor had given him such a good deal on the place. It had been a steal because the previous owners had probably perished inside. If I make it through this, Dan Panter, of 21st Century, you are going to be hearing from my lawyer.
Or I'll be hearing from some cops after I kill you...
Switching his thoughts to his wife, Josh got out of the car, stormed up the walkway, up the five wooden steps, past the swing, and to the door, through which he entered. Suddenly it occured to him how obtusely stupid he'd been—I should have honked the fucking horn to get her attention. Why didn't I even think of that? Now Steve's going to be an orphan and probably grow up into drugs to deal with the trauma of his family having been killed.
“Mary? Mary! Answer me. Where are you?”
There was no response, no sound, just an oddness hanging densely in the dusty air. The way the receeding daylight glimmered through the two windows of the hall exaggerated the oddness already present within. She was here; he knew that by the lingering scent of her perfume. She had come in as long as minutes ago or as recently as seconds.
“Mary! If you're here, we have to go now. This house isn't safe!”
Still, no response. No movement.
He walked into the kitchen, which sat to the right, where the Kenmore refridgerator hummed and where the faucet dripped. The room was empty, the walls bare, half the cabinent doors missing. There would be no further renovation on this house, as far as he was concerned. Thinking clearly, he went to the cupboard underneath the sink and threw open the doors. Inside was a few cleaning items and a large can of Raid. Would it be effective in killing these particular spiders? 160 pounds of human weight hadn't been able to do even that. The label proclaimed: Kills All Bugs Dead.
I don't know about that.
The can was still full of insecticide. It gave Josh a woddling feeling of comfort, but the comfort woddled to a hard fall suddenly and swiftly. Eyes—eyes were watching him from behind. Not Mary's eyes or Steve's eyes. Not human eyes. He could feel them staring, gawking, waiting for him to foul up so it could counterattack.
Counterattack! That was the word. These things didn't attack, they countered.
“You killed my little girl. I should burn this place down, you sons of bitches. I should burn you all to a crisp. You don't deserve to live.”
The spider, standing on the island beside a newspaper, changed colors rapidly. Josh looked aside, anticipating where it was. He knew he had to act fast and make his moves untelegraphed. If this bug bit him, he knew it would be fatal.
Movement. He saw movement—thanks to the shiny surface of the new toaster his in-laws had gotten him for Christmas last year. The lone arachnid crept toward the edge of the island, either ready to jump or web him.
We'll see who wins, you ugly, eight-legged cocksucker!
His thumb depressed the button before he spun around. A thick mist of stinky, industrial pesticide sprayed from the nozzle and soon met with the bug, making it retreat, retreat, retreat, until it fell off the island and to the floor, out of sight. And, by God, the little insect made a faint, high-pitched squeal in the process.
Josh ran around the island and looked down. The spider wasn't just dying, it was melting, dissolving and disappearing in response to the Raid. In seconds, it ceased to exist. All that was left behind was a purple stain on the linoleum. It was a shade he could not completely comprehend in his limited human mind. It turned the linoleum under it red. It gave off a repulsive woodsy odor that made him cough.
Where did these insects come from? Where in the hell? That was the question of the day for Josh. They were obviously a new breed of arachnids, exhibiting behavior unlike any known arachnid. Had they always been here? No, they had to have come from somewhere else. Perhaps the previous owner had been an entomologist who'd brought them here from some exotic jungle? There were only a small number of possibilities.
A thump sound—from overhead, in the room directly above—made him arch his head back and look up. “Mary? Mary?! Is that you?” What are they doing to her?!
More sounds: scurrying, creaking, general movement from one place to another. The ceiling bowed a little from the weight of whatever was up there.
Jesus God. That must be BIG.
He stormed out of the kitchen and to the staircase. One spider sat perched on the newel, watching him approach. Others took hold on every stair. He didn't stop, he trudged forward, his weapon in fire mode. “You wanna play? Eat this, you mother...“
The spider on the newel jumped at him. He ducked, and a fleeting memory of playing dodge ball in school crossed his mind. Swinging around, he sprayed the aggressor with Raid as it landed by a floor vent. It shriveled to nothingness just like its kin had done in the kitchen.
Josh spun back around. He kept his index finger pressed down on the button and walked toward the stairs—and up the stairs—spraying every spider in sight. None jumped; most of them tried unsuccessfully to retreat. All of them ate death in the form of liquid poison. Some of them died with squeals; others died quietly. As long as they perished, how they died didn't matter to him.
Halfway to the top, as he passed by the quarter arch window, Josh felt something brush against the back of his neck. At first he thought it was a bead of sweat, then thought better of it. Only soft webbing felt so light and icky against human flesh. The spider, standing between two spindles in the upstairs hallway, connected itself to him with a single black strand of web and leaped at him.
Panicked, he sprayed Raid in every direction, trying to pinpoint where his enemy had gone. He almost took a tumble down the steps for his frantic efforts. Then, afraid of being bit, he sprayed himself—his face, his arms, his neck, his hair—with Raid to avoid being bit. Maybe if he saturated himself with the chemical, it wouldn't want to bite him. This tactic supposedly worked with mosquitoes, didn't it?
But he did know where the spider was—on his cargo shorts. He knew this because of the sudden increase in weight as it landed on him. The bug was no larger than a penny and it weighed as much as a quarter gallon of milk.
Instinctively, he swatted at it. Hitting it was like striking a rough piece of metal. So he doused it with a heavy dose of chemical, and that did the job, ending its life. It melted into his shorts and forever became a part of the fabric. The indescribable color mesmerized him with its utter strangeness. How come I've never seen that before?
Days from now, years, decades, Josh would try repeatedly to recreate that same hue.
He would never come close.
Before climbing the rest of the stairs, he aimed the can and examined the area. Coast looked clear. More importantly, it felt clear.
Mary's voice rang out, loud and clear:
“Mmmmm! Mmmm!” Muffled but alive.
“Mary? Honey, I'm coming for you!” he said, scampering to the
second floor and around the landing toward Rachel's room. He stopped a good two yards away from the entrance when he looked inside, for shock made him go no further.
The room was filled with arachnids of different sizes, different colors. They scurried across the ceiling, along the walls, and—there were so many of them on the floor—they made it appear to vibrate. Lying on Rachel's bed in the background, wrapped in black webbing, was Mary Forshire. She was barely visible through the intricate strands, but she was there, conscious and scared and unable to escape.
“Mary...” Josh stepped forward two more strides and stopped yet again.
The spider blocked his path.
It stepped out from the closet, this poodle-sized spider, with fangs as big as fingers and black eyes with intelligence behind them. Hairy and repulsive. Steam effused from its long, twisted legs.
“You gonna kill her? Kill my family? You already did away with my daughter, you ugly whatever-you-are. I don't know if you can hear me or understand me, but please, I beg you, let her go. You can have the house. We'll leave and go elsewhere. I'm sorry we intruded. Okay?”
The spider blinked. Its fangs came together. Josh kept the tip of his finger lightly on the button, ready to spray if need be. He knew he wouldn't stand a chance against the army of them, but at least he would take its parent down with him.
To further make this monster understand, Josh nodded his head to the cocooned woman lying on the small bed. “I just want her. This house is yours.“
As if it understood, the spider turned and looked back at Mary. She was crying, grunting, scared, in pain because of fear. The strange white lifeform with four limbs wanted to be freed.
Josh took another step forward and the spider postured up, spun around, its many eyes fixing on the can of Raid in his hand. Oh, those eyes knew that can could hurt its main member.
“I'm putting it down, okay?” Josh slowly set the can down on the banister and held up his hands. “It's gone. I mean you no harm. I just want my wife back. Truce? I don't want to hurt you. I don't want you to hurt her.” He pointed.
The spider turned once more. Looked at Mary. Then it released a sharp, skin-crawling growl that set the other smaller, lesser spiders scurrying. They all crawled upward, from the floor to the walls to the ceiling where a large hole gave view to the attic above. They were leaving him alone. They were going back to wherever they came from. In seconds, the room was clear. The large arachnid was the last to go.
Josh couldn't believe it. He had successfully communicated with a spider!
He didn't give it much thought, not yet. He focused all his energies on freeing Mary. Tore the webbing that bound her apart. “Oh Josh! What are they? Where did they—?”
“I don't know. All I know is that they made this house their home. Probably the hospital now too.”
They fled from the house.
Steve had waited for what felt like an eternity, waiting and hoping for his parents to emerge from the house he never wanted to enter again. Were they dead? Had the spiders killed them? Would the spiders come out of the woodwork and kill him as well? He didn't even realize he was crying, but he stopped when he saw his mom and dad jog down the porch steps and to the Highlander. They both got in. “Oh my God, you're okay!” the boy said, wrapping his arms around his mom. “I thought...“
“Don't think. Just let me tell you that I love you.” Mary kissed him. “What about Rachel? Where's she?”
Josh and Steve exchanged a sorrowful glance. Josh felt a lump in his throat; Steve felt tears sting his eyes.
“Well? Where is she, Josh? Steve?”
“I'm sorry, honey.”
“Sorry for what?! Tell me!”
“One of them attacked her. She didn't make it.”
“What do you mean didn't make it?” The realization surged through her and made her light-headed. “She's... de—dead?”
Josh bowed his head. “Let's just get the fuck away from this place. We'll go to gramma's and gramp's and figure out what to do then. I just want to get as far away from 1923 Parron Street as possible.”
He started up the vehicle. Away they went.
***
They would never quite heal from Rachel's death. They would never claim their possesions. They lived a bleak life from that day on. And they were never contacted by the government when it quarantined their house as well as Merrison Valley Medical Center. A HAZMAT team exterminated every spider in both buildings. After extensive testing, scientists learned that these archnids actually had an outer epidermis made of something many times stronger than steel. If they bit you, their venom contained eggs that hatched within minutes and let loose babies with sharp teeth that ate you apart from within. Before both the hospital and residence was destroyed by a wrecker's ball, the authorities did find out one very interesting thing...
The roof... there was a softball-sized hole in the roof of the Forshire House. What they found in the attic did not come from this earth and perhaps not from this solar system. What they discovered was a small meteorite which had transported the spiders from somewhere to here.
