Curse of Arachnaman

by Hayden Thorne

  "Good grief, Eric, go to school."

  Okay, that was worth a shot.

  The buzzword of the day was Arachnaman. Everywhere I turned, I saw people talking nervously about this psycho. Local newspapers had that name splashed in ginormous letters across the front pages. I went inside the shop and found Brenda taking care of customers. I waved at her as I walked past the counter, and she nodded at me.

  My “classroom” was the same back room that Brenda and Dr. Dibbs used after the Trill incident, where they checked me for abnormal readings and residual stuff from the Noxious Nocturne. They set it up for me, with an office desk for Dr. Dibbs and a separate study table and chair for me, which stood at the opposite end of the room. Dr. Dibbs wasn't there yet, so I just dropped my bag, took my seat, and pulled out my notes.

  So I could, you know, pretend like I was really interested in my lessons and not show that I'd rather have my toenails ripped out with surgical tweezers than go over another craptastic social studies lesson. When Dr. Dibbs finally showed up, he looked really grim and distracted. He went over my lessons with me, but everything seemed mechanical and automatic, and he didn't appear to notice. He just rattled on and on about history and then literature and then gave me an hour to practice sketching, etc. I sure as hell noticed it, but I figured that it wouldn't be a good idea to say anything about it. Besides, I already knew what his response would be: “Keep your mind fixed on your lessons, young man, and ignore everything else. It's too dangerous. You know how it is.” Yeah, I knew. Been there, done that.

  But still! Couldn't an ex-supervillain sidekick-wannabe offer some help in dangerous cases like Arachnaman? I seriously could've worked like Freddie, doing undercover stuff though I don't have the advantage of masking powers. I mulled over that for some time, and before long it was my turn to be distracted. It was a good thing that my final lessons were Geometry and then Chemistry, so I didn't have any trouble having all that information fly over my head. I didn't even bother.

  The clock struck 2:00, and I just watched Dr. Dibbs sift through his folder of handouts, which meant homework. Damn.

  "So how are things with Sentry work, sir?” I piped up.

  "The Sentries are alive and well and healthy, thank you, Mr. Eric. That's all you need to know."

  I sighed, drumming my fingers on my study desk. “So...is it possible for me to, you know, help out with undercover work? Since I've already seen how it is on the other side, don't you think that I might have something to offer the superheroes and the Sentries?"

  He paused and stared at me, frowning through his glasses. “Young man, I do believe you've forgotten what we've told you about the Sentries."

  "I know, I know, but I want to help!"

  He kind of softened up and smiled at me. “I understand, but the Sentries work on their own, with no need for outside help. Stay away from trouble, sir, because that's the best thing you can do for your family's sake. And your friends'.” He paused. “And Calais'."

  By the way, detention involved getting my homework done while being spoiled with tea and scones from Brenda's pantry. I didn't expect that at all. I should've gotten into trouble more often, I guess.

  * * * *

  I took a quick break from journal writing because I needed a snack. It was also kind of an awkward moment for me to cut out of my room like that, but I found out that Scanlon was due to stop by to take Liz out for a date, so I figured that I should get my ass downstairs real quick, gather my supplies, and barricade myself in my room before he showed up. I got back to find my window shut even with the relatively warm weather outside. My lamp was moved to my desk, and so were my journal and pen set. I thought at first that Peter somehow managed to sneak in and rearrange my private space, but he was nowhere to be seen, and when I went downstairs to get something to drink, I ran into Mom, who was walking out of Liz's room.

  "I just closed your window, honey,” she said.

  "Why? It's not raining or cold."

  "Safety. People are now being attacked in their own homes. Remember yesterday? I might have your window latch replaced, too. I checked it, and it felt a little loose and unsafe."

  "But I don't have a ventilation system in my room! Remember? I'm always the one who's frozen solid in the winter and a soggy mess in the summer!"

  "Do you need a ventilation system to be attacked?"

  "Aww, Mom..."

  "Eric...” I didn't have to say anything more. She gave me that look again. Major suckage. I'd have to come up with a backup plan that would keep both Mom and me happy. I should've consulted some online interior decorating sites for ideas. Anyway, maybe that was a good thing in the end. I guess it was time for my room to have a bit of a makeover.

  Also, there was Freddie, and there was Mrs. Zhang. Apparently some cosmic conspiracy was working against me in my quest to ditch bingo night. I wondered if that was what people meant when they said that Mercury was in retrograde.

  * * * *

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 14

  * * * *

  Peter picked me up from “school” today. It was a total surprise, and it was because Renaissance High's faculty had a meeting. I was all resigned to another Peter-less day and another day completely isolated from my superhero friends, who'd be combing the streets of Vintage City for clues on Arachnaman. I stepped out of the back room, and Brenda yelled out from the shop area.

  "Hey, Eric! Visitor!"

  I thought at first that it was Liz. Didn't know why, but she crossed my mind first. Then I saw Peter sitting on the same bar stool I usually sat on, smiling and chatting up Brenda. I nearly did a swan dive on him. Seriously, I could've done it, too, based on my calculations regarding physical distance and hormone levels, but I played it cool and just held up a hand, saying, “Hey, how's it going?” Pretty suave, no?

  He slid off the stool and gave me a kiss. I guess he felt safe around Brenda, who pretended to be occupied by something on the ceiling the whole time we vacuumed each other's tonsils out, nearly tripping over some fancy coffee table and falling down, all tangled up. Too bad she couldn't stare at the ceiling for an hour straight because I wanted to do Peter right then and there. I guess I wouldn't have cared, regardless, had it not been for Brenda's warning: “Ahem! Water hose time! I've got a business to run, kids!” Of course, I was dazed and horny beyond words when Peter let me go, and I guess I wasn't very subtle about it, either, because when I turned to Brenda, she cocked an eyebrow and shook her head.

  "Back room's off-limits, kiddo,” she said and then jerked her head to the door. “Go on, horny toads. Enjoy the afternoon."

  Peter thanked her, took my hand, and hurried out the door. “I really shouldn't get anywhere near you if I haven't seen you in a while,” he panted when we stumbled out into the sunshine and warm air. I nearly did a cartwheel. Peter was feeling horny as hell? Like me? Score, baby! We paused after crossing the street, staring at the sky and calming ourselves down in the middle of pedestrian traffic. Nope. Didn't work for me. I still wanted to do him on the spot.

  "Can we go home? My family's at work right now. They won't be back till around five,” I offered. Okay, I pled. I was practically on my knees, begging him to go home with me, so I could, you know, do him.

  He looked disappointed. I was torn between heartbreak and flattery. “I can't, Eric. I'm sorry. I only have less than an hour to be with you. We still have to go out on a real date, you know. Remember? I didn't even bring my car."

  God, yeah, I remembered. That was a rain check that was just screaming to be honored. I had a pile of used towels and a set of crusty bed sheets to prove it. I grudgingly agreed to stay chaste, in the loosest possible sense, that afternoon and went to a small deli a few blocks down for afternoon sandwiches. There, in as quiet a voice as I could manage, I tried to quiz him about Arachnaman and the recent attacks.

  "It's insane,” I said, my voice nearly a whisper. “What does he want? Mr. Berkowitz wasn't doing anything. He was just trying to ea
rn a living. And those people at the Yee Apartments...grandparents and kids? What the hell?"

  Peter shook his head, looking angry and stricken at the same time. “There's a common thread in these attacks, Eric. We're still trying to piece things together..."

  "And what about those human arachnids? No one's talking about what they look like and stuff. Do you know? They don't look like Vincent Price, do they?"

  Peter looked a little confused for a moment. “Um, no. Are they supposed to? They look like—God, I can't describe it—just imagine a person who's got spider qualities mixed in with his DNA, like, in a pretty bad way. When I say ‘bad,’ I don't mean ‘awful.’”

  It was my turn to blink. “You're not helping."

  "Think, um, cheese ball.” He grimaced. “God, I feel bad for saying that, but there it is."

  "Uh-huh. Okay.” I watched him intently, and he merely shrugged and muttered, “total cheese ball."

  Apparently Peter really couldn't figure out a better way of conveying it. The cops and the mayor sure as hell didn't want anyone to know, but one thing was sure—those “human arachnids” couldn't do much but sit in one place and look around them blankly, according to Peter. I asked if it was like they were lobotomized, and he said that their behavior was sort of like that.

  I was too grossed out and horrified for those poor victims to ask any more. I even forgot to ask about Mr. and Mrs. Zhang, being so caught up and practically gagging on what I was trying to picture in my mind.

  "They're okay, though,” Peter offered, after a long silence. “They're all kept in a holding-place, with the Sentries working on an antidote to get them back to normal. No one died, and it looks like no one's in any danger of dying because of the transformation. I guess we'll have to count that as a blessing. This Arachnaman jerk doesn't know much about full biological manipulation."

  "What about their families?” That was a doozy. Most didn't want their loved ones separated from them. Who could blame them? Grandparents and children separated from the rest of the family over what? Some psycho's idea of fun and games? Unfortunately, they had to have a long talk with city officials and leaders of the Chinese community, and they all managed to agree on something because the victims currently are somewhere else, completely quarantined. I think one of the things they agreed on was that the family could arrange to see them during the healing process. Plus they weren't supposed to say a word about it, or at least there was some procedure that would be used to ensure that no one talked.

  I thought about Men in Black and that memory-zapper thing they used on witnesses.

  I still didn't know the details or whatever of the arrangement, but suffice it to say, everything seemed to be under control, and Peter made me swear never to speak a word of this to anyone.

  "I'll keep quiet as long as no one uses a memory zapper thing on me,” I replied, and he just grinned at me from across the table. “No, seriously. Do you have any idea what long-term damage the memory-erasing process can cause? I'm not even an adult yet, you know, and I want my brain intact when I reach eighteen.” I considered for a moment. “But if you've got something that'll help me in school so that my grades would look like they're on ‘roids..."

  "Okay, that's it. You're too cute. I gotta do you."

  Oh, baby. “Seriously?” I said kind of lamely. More like stunned.

  Prayer to great cosmic forces: whatever it was I said that turned him on, please make me say it again and again when he's around. Amen. Namaste. Hai. Whatever.

  Then he ended our date by taking me back home, i.e., hyper speeding me home and setting us both down on the roof because my stupid window was locked, where we were able to enjoy several minutes of tongue gymnastics and hand-body-exploration. Screw broad daylight. Ours was one of the tallest houses in the neighborhood, which is a sad testament to the nature of the rest of them. It was easy to just lie flat (sort of) behind an old and no longer functioning chimney that was also pretty darned huge for what it was, ignore the roof debris, and just grapple lustfully with my boyfriend till, God...nirvana...

  I just died and went to heaven. From the stunned and flushed face of Peter hovering above me, I can say that I didn't make the journey alone. After calming ourselves down, he left for “work,” and I watched him vanish in a flash. He never transformed all that time, of course, but since he could move in hyper speed, he felt that he could get away with using his superpowers while in civilian clothes. Anyway, he told me in a phone call later that night that he was so drained and out of it that his usual path back to his home was like a drunken zigzag. He nearly flew smack against an old water tower, in fact, because his vision had grown a little fuzzy.

  As for me, I almost tumbled off the roof after Peter left, trying to climb off it and onto the fire escape, so I could go back to my room via my bathroom window, which I remembered not to lock. It was a bad idea, maybe, but it did come in pretty darned handy during times like this. Now in addition to towels and bed sheets containing my gene pool, I had underwear to add to the pile. Seriously, I'd hate to come back in a future life as a washing machine owned by a family with teenage boys. That would seriously be gross.

  "Took me a while to get my head straight and focus on superhero detective work tonight,” Peter also said, chuckling, during that phone call afterward. “Wade literally knocked on my forehead and called out, ‘Earth to Calais! Wake up, or I'll have to set fire to your tights!’ Trent kept rolling his eyes at me. Imagine Magnifiman shaking his finger at me and looking dead serious the whole time. Althea—well, I'd rather not share what she had to say about my little lapse."

  "I'll bet Trent gave you one hell of a sermon.” Apparently Calais was this close to being grounded by Magnifiman, which would've been something I'd kill to see. “So is the next logical step for us to have phone sex?” I asked. Begged. On my knees. Forget the fact that I was on the damn phone the whole time, listening to him describe his foggy, post-not-quite-full-on-sex mental and physical state this afternoon.

  "Don't encourage me,” he said. “It's hard enough for me to be saddled with hero work on top of being deprived of time with you. Mom's already complaining about the amount of washing that the housekeeper does because of me."

  I'd yet to wrap my mind around the thought of anyone living in this day and age whose idea of domestic life involved servants. But I guess if you had the money...

  I tried to read for pleasure after I finished my homework, but I couldn't focus. Peter was still messing with my mind, and the only antidote to that was to gawk at my growing collection of hot studs from those gay ads I was collecting. I only had one clean towel left. Guess what I'd be doing tomorrow after school.

  * * * *

  Things were still crazy at the Yee Apartments, and I hadn't received any word yet from Mr. and Mrs. Zhang, but I did learn that they didn't live in that area. I found out about that from an herbalist whose little shop I checked out this afternoon. She wasn't Chinese, no, but the lady definitely knew her traditional Asian medicine.

  "I know them, actually,” she said, smiling. “They live a couple of doors down from my apartment over on Myrtle Lane. They're both fine. They just can't operate their restaurant for a few days while police continue their investigation. Every building within a two-block distance from the Yee Apartments is being checked."

  "You mean, like, to see if anything's been planted or something?” That made sense. The beagle-puppy spider robots were reported to be planted in the ventilation system, and they just spread out and did their thing when the moment came by melting the ventilation grates and then falling inside the rooms.

  As I didn't want to take up too much of her time, after a quick update on the crime, I went straight to business. “By the way, do you have any herbs that induce diarrhea without, you know, killing me?” This was my backup plan, by the way.

  "Are you constipated?” At that point I realized that my Plan B was really embarrassing in a Too Much Information sort of way, even though I didn't have constipation but would
n't mind being a prisoner of the toilet when bingo night rolled around.

  "Yeah. Sort of. It's been two months now of nothing.” Was that about a good range for herbal laxatives to be called for? I just made that number up as I really didn't know how long that condition lasted for most of those who had it.

  She just cocked an eyebrow. The jig was up. I guess I didn't look constipated enough or something, but she just said, “How interesting. I just had a couple of high school guys come around and ask for anti-constipation herbs, too. A few more questions later, they broke down and confessed to not wanting to go to some required field trip somewhere."

  I gaped at her. “Damn. And I thought I had something pretty clever going here. I also just came up with it on my way home from school. It's all spur-of-the-moment. The constipation, I mean."

  "So what are you trying to avoid, hon?” she asked, smiling, so I told her about bingo night. She looked sympathetic at first and then said, “Maybe you should just not think too much about hanging out with a bunch of old folks and their favorite game and just enjoy the moment. You might not know it yet, but bingo might actually be a pretty fun game in the end."

  Hell, no! Never! I just thanked her and shuffled off, a bit pissed. What a waste of brain cells this afternoon had turned out to be. When I was about to step out the door, she called out, “Fresh persimmons! They work all the time!” Good thing she didn't charge for advice.

  By the way, I saw that redheaded kid again. Yeah, the one who was being bullied by those punks some days ago. He was alone like before, which was really much better than being harassed by jackasses, chilling at the Jumping Bean. I went in there to get an iced mocha, and I saw him sitting by the window. He was reading and then looking at his watch and then looking out again, like he was waiting for someone or just plain waiting for the time.