by Mike Tucker
‘No, sweetie. We’ve got to go straight away.’ She secured Emily in her chair, then slid into the driver’s seat, fastening her own seatbelt and slipping the key in the ignition. To her relief, the car started first time.
As she pulled out onto the road, everything seemed so quiet and so normal that for a second she wondered if she was just being crazy. Then the recollection of Emily’s screams at the daddy longlegs, and the horrible way that it had thrashed and writhed when she had swatted it from the window and tried to crush it, banished any doubts that she might have had.
Pushing the car into gear, she swung past the village hall and headed out of the village at speed. Usually she treated the narrow country lanes with caution but today she just wanted to get away from Ringstone as quickly as possible.
As they sped through the hedge-lined roads Emily gave a little ‘whee!’ of excitement. Gabby couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Kids.
Her smile faded as she rounded a tight bend to find the road ahead blocked by a thick tangle of milky-white fibres. Gabby stamped hard on the brakes, but she was going too fast to stop in time. The little Fiat slammed hard into the web.
The impact knocked Gabby breathless. The inside of the car was a cacophony of screams. Recovering, she quickly checked the travel cot alongside her. Wayne was fine, just unhappy. She glanced in the rear-view mirror; Emily was still strapped in safely too. Satisfied that both of her children were unharmed Gabby, put the car into reverse. Tyres squealed noisily on the tarmac and the car lurched, but the web held them tight. Shifting into forward gear, she tried to push her way through instead, but the car just wouldn’t budge.
Almost screaming with frustration, Gabby slammed the car into reverse again and pressed the accelerator fully down. Clouds of white smoke started to rise from the tyres as they span uselessly and, with a stuttering cough, the engine stalled.
Gabby slumped forward onto the steering wheel, trying to shut out the screaming from Emily and Wayne. What was she going to do?
A sudden noise made her start.
She looked up to see the strands of web just outside the windscreen starting to quiver, vibrate. She frowned. What on earth could be causing it? Then, with a chill that reached deep into her gut, she realised that whatever had spun the web was coming to investigate what it had caught.
Fear galvanised Gabby into action. Unbuckling herself, she tried to open the driver’s side door, but the web stopped it from opening fully. She started to wind down the window, then stopped. If the web was sticky enough to hold the car, then it would certainly be able to trap her if she touched it.
She twisted around in her seat. The car had slid into the web at an angle, and the rear passenger door was clear of any of the strands. Ignoring the wails of her daughter, she wriggled between the front seats, scrabbling at the rear door handle. The door opened and Gabby scrambled out onto the road.
Undoing Emily’s seatbelt she hauled her from her seat, dumping her unceremoniously on the tarmac whilst she extracted Wayne from his cot. From somewhere behind her she could hear something large crashing through the fields nearby. She fought the urge to look around, concentrating on undoing the buckles and straps that held her son secure.
Three to go… Two to go… The last buckle came free and she wrenched Wayne out of the car. As she turned to grab Emily, she realised that her daughter had gone silent and was staring in terror at something over her shoulder.
Barely able to draw breath, Gabby slowly turned around. Two long, bristle-covered legs were reaching out over the top of the hedgerow. As she watched, something huge and dark started to haul itself onto the web. Gabby reached out for her daughter’s hand, slowly backing away from the monstrous spider as its forelegs started to run over the metal roof of the car, trying to determine if this was food or not.
Gabby felt a sudden surge of hope. It hadn’t seen them! It was more interested in the car. Her eyes flicked down to her daughter, and she put a finger to her lips.
To her relief, her daughter nodded and together they started to move away from the web. As Gabby tensed herself to start running there was a harsh buzzing from behind her and something landed hard on her back.
All thoughts of stealth abandoned, Gabby screamed and twisted, trying to shake whatever it was loose. Then there was a sudden, sharp pain between her shoulder blades, and her legs gave way beneath her.
As she slumped to the ground, she became aware of the dull drone of dozens of pairs of wings drowning out the screams of her daughter, and of a cloud of buzzing, hovering shapes closing in around them.
Only as she lost consciousness did Gabby remember the twelve cans of insecticide in the boot of the car.
Chapter
Four
As the village meeting started to break up, Angela came over to Charlie Bevan’s side.
‘Have you heard anything from Bert Mitchell yet?’ she asked. ‘Surely he should have got to the hospital by now?’
Charlie frowned. ‘You’re right. He should have called ages ago.’ He unclipped the radio from his belt. ‘Charlie to Bert, over?’
There was nothing but static from the other end.
Charlie tried again. ‘Charlie to Bert, are you receiving me, over?’
‘More interference?’ asked Clara, concerned.
‘No.’ The Doctor plucked the radio from Charlie’s hands and pressed it to his ear. ‘It’s working fine, there’s just no one answering at the other end.’ He handed it back to him. ‘This hospital. Is it far?’
‘Not very.’
‘Then I suggest we go and see what they’ve been able to find out.’
‘We can go in my car,’ said Angela. ‘I still want to get an ultrasound scan of that crane fly.’
Leaving Simon George to wrap up matters in the village hall, the four of them made their way across the green to where Angela’s big Range Rover was parked. As they approached the car, Charlie Bevan’s radio suddenly crackled into life.
The policeman gave a sigh of relief. ‘At last. Go ahead, Bert, over?’
‘Please… Help…’ The voice that issued from the speaker was weak, and obviously in pain, but it was the sound in the background that made Clara’s skin crawl. Almost drowning out Bert’s terrified pleas for help was the sound of rending metal and a high-pitched, hissing screech.
Angela clasped her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh no…’
‘Bert!’ shouted Charlie Bevan. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
Bert’s voice became a scream of pure terror, and then the radio went dead.
There was a moment of stunned silence, and then everyone dived into the car at once. Clara was barely able to close her door and fasten her seatbelt before Angela started the engine and set off at speed.
‘Do you know where he is likely to be?’ asked the Doctor as the Range Rover careered around the village green and raced off down one of the narrow country roads.
Angela nodded. ‘This is the most direct route to the hospital. He’ll have gone this way.’
Next to Clara in the rear seat, Charlie continued to shout into his radio, desperately trying to get back in contact with the pub landlord, but Clara could tell from the expression on his face that he already feared the worst.
As the car flew along the narrow road, the Doctor caught Clara’s eye in the rear-view mirror. His expression said everything. This was about to get dangerous.
They hurtled around yet another tight bend and Clara was suddenly thrown forward in her seat as, with a screech of brakes, the Range Rover shuddered to an abrupt halt.
‘Oh, my God.’ Angela had gone very pale.
The Doctor was out of the car in a flash, motioning for everyone to stay where they were as he edged slowly forward down the road.
‘To hell with that,’ muttered Charlie Bevan. ‘Bert might need help.’
Before Clara could try and stop him, he unclipped his seatbelt and hurried forward to join the Doctor, who turned and glared at him angrily, raising a finger to his lips.
Cautiously, Clara slid across the rear seat and stepped out into the roadway. The route ahead was totally blocked with a thick tangle of sticky, white web strung between the hedges and trees that lined the road. Bert’s Transit van was on its side in the neighbouring field. He had obviously lost control as he tried to avoid the obstruction and had ploughed through the hedge. The windscreen was cracked, and steam was still rising from an obviously damaged radiator.
That in itself might have been bad enough, but the damage to the rear of the van was even worse. It looked as though something had torn the vehicle apart with a can opener.
Charlie started to scramble over the ditch towards the car, but the Doctor caught his arm. ‘Just wait a moment.’
‘But—’
‘Wait!’ snapped the Doctor, the tone of his voice making it quite plain that he was in no mood to be argued with.
Leaving Charlie Bevan half in and half out of the ditch, the Doctor made his way cautiously forward towards the web. Long, pencil-thick strands stretched off through the foliage to the higher branches of the trees. One eye on the treetops, the Doctor reached out and tapped a fingertip on one of the strands of web, tensing himself to run.
The web quivered slightly. Peeling his finger free the Doctor tapped it again. After the third tap he turned to the others.
‘All right. It seems safe enough for the moment.’
The four of them clambered down into the field and Angela crossed to the Doctor’s side. ‘You thought that it might have been waiting? That it’s using these webs to trap food?’
‘Yes. But there’s something erratic about the way this creature is behaving. The cocooning of the man in the tunnel was almost to be expected, just a spider trapping its prey in an enclosed space. This –’ he jerked his thumb towards the web that blocked the road – ‘this seems to have been put up deliberately as a barrier to stop people getting out.’
‘Or anyone else getting in.’
The Doctor nodded grimly.
‘Doctor!’ Charlie had reached the Transit and was looking inside the buckled and twisted cab. ‘There’s no sign of Bert, or of Alan’s body!’
The Doctor peered into the shattered rear, running his fingers over the jagged metal. It had been peeled back like the skin of an orange.
‘There’s blood on the windscreen.’ Angela pointed at a smear of crimson on the shattered glass. ‘There’s no airbag in this old thing. If he’s got a concussion then it’s unlikely that he could have got far.’
‘Um, he managed to get this far…’ Clara was standing next to a shotgun. There were several spent cases lying on the grass next to it. ‘Looks like he managed to get off a couple of shots at whatever it was that attacked him.’
‘Then where is he?’ asked Angela
‘Dunno.’ Clara reached down to pick up the discarded weapon, but as she did so she noticed something that made her hesitate. The barrel of the gun was bent, twisted, and partially melted into the grass. She withdrew her hand and took a step backwards.
‘Perhaps not.’
Her nose wrinkled as the wind changed, and an acrid, acidic smell drifted across the field. Angela smelt it too, covering her nose with her hand.
‘God, what is that?’
Trying to locate where the smell was coming from, Clara spotted a large, dark shape towards the middle of the field. It too looked soft, dissolved somehow. With a growing sense of dread, she started to make her way forward, trying to get a better look, but as she drew closer, the twisted, human outline of the shape became horribly discernible.
‘Doctor!’ Clara started to back away in horror, unable to tear her eyes from the warped shape that had once been a man. As she did she heard a cry of warning from the Doctor, and a scream of pure terror from Angela.
Clara looked up, and froze as a huge beetle burst from the trees ahead of her. It was vast, nearly as big as the Transit, its bristle-covered body wet and glistening. For a moment it stopped, antennae twitching, mouthparts audibly grinding together as it regarded its new prey.
Then, with a deafening, screaming cry, it lurched across the field towards them.
Chapter
Five
As the Lynx cleared the treetops, Captain Jo Phillips stared in disbelief at the scene unfolding in front of her.
‘Holy Mother of God!’ Leigh Brewster hauled open the side door to get a better look at the huge black and orange beetle lumbering across the field below them. ‘Just look at the size of that thing!’
‘Captain, looks like we’ve got civilians down there.’ Her co-pilot pointed at four figures scrambling to escape the advancing monster. Phillips could see the remains of a wrecked Transit van, and an indistinct, but still recognisably human form in the grass below.
‘Brewster, get that gun ready!’ Phillips brought the Lynx swooping around, lining up the open side hatch with the thing below them. ‘This is Army Air 179 to JHC headquarters. Hostile located. Possible civilian casualties. We are engaging.’
Any reply from her superiors was drowned out by the sound of Brewster opening fire with the M3M.
The Doctor and the others hurled themselves to the ground as the helicopter opened fire. The sound was incredible. Large calibre shells started to tear up the ground between them and the beetle, sending clods of earth showering into the air. There was a deafening screech of rage and pain as the bullets raked across the back of the creature, ricocheting off its armoured carapace and sending it reeling sideways under the impact.
Seizing the moment, the Doctor dragged Charlie to his feet, pushing him towards the sanctuary of the church visible through the trees on the far side of the field. ‘Now! Whilst it’s recovering! Run!’
Struggling against the downdraft from the helicopter’s whirling rotors, Charlie staggered off as the Doctor looked around frantically for Clara and Angela. They were several metres away, still cowering from the onslaught of the roaring machine gun.
‘Clara!’ yelled the Doctor, barely able to hear himself over the noise. ‘The church! Try and make it to the church!’
Clara nodded, grabbing Angela by the hand and scrambling to her feet. The two women started to run. Attracted by the movement, the beetle gave a hiss of anger and started to lumber towards them once more, mouthparts clacking hungrily. Another burst of machine-gun fire tore down from the hovering helicopter, but the beetle was now too far underneath for the gunner to bring the gun to bear properly, and the pilot wheeled away, trying to get into a better position.
With horror, the Doctor realised that the creature was now between him and Clara, and blocking their escape route.
‘Clara! Freeze!’ The two women skidded to a halt, still gripping tightly to each other. The Doctor started to shout, waving his arms. ‘Hey! Over here!’
The beetle ignored him, still concentrating on its prey. Looking around frantically the Doctor picked up a rock and hurled it at the creature’s back. There was a dull ‘thunk’ as it bounced harmlessly off the beetle’s armoured shell. The Doctor watched helplessly as the creature stalked remorselessly towards Clara and Angela, its antennae twitching as it tried to locate them.
With a roar of engines, the helicopter swooped down once more, unleashing another barrage of shells. This time the bullets had an effect, shattering a section of the chitinous carapace and severing the tip of one of the monster’s antennae.
Furious with the hovering thing that had hurt it and distracted it from its meal, the beetle turned towards the helicopter. As soon as its attention was directed away from them, Clara and Angela turned and ran in the opposite direction. The Doctor watched with relief as they scrambled through the hedge on the far side of the field. They might not have made it to the church, but they were safe for the moment.
The beetle was now hissing and screeching at the helicopter, rearing up on its hind legs as bullets continued to tear into it. Without warning, it turned suddenly, raising up its body and, with a sudden chill of realisation, the Doctor finally recognised what kind of
beetle it was.
‘Oh, no…’
With a hiss like a thousand fire extinguishers, a spray of milky liquid burst from the creature’s abdomen, striking the helicopter broadside.
As soon as the spray hit them, Jo Phillips knew that they were in trouble. With a harsh crack, the acrylic windshield shattered into a spider’s web of fracture lines, reducing her visibility to zero.
From behind her, she could hear Brewster scream as the liquid sprayed through the open hatchway, splashing across his face and body. She pulled back hard on the controls, sending the ’copter skywards, but the entire cockpit was starting to fill with choking, acrid smoke as the discharge started to eat into wires and cables. She couldn’t begin to imagine what it might be doing to Brewster.
The stricken craft lurched as the beetle sent another jet of acid splattering across the fuselage. Warning lights started to blaze across the control panel in front of her. The joystick suddenly went slack in her hand, and with sudden, cold certainty Jo knew that all the control lines had gone. Seconds later the fuel lines were gone too and, with a cough of protest, the engines stuttered and died. The aircraft was now nothing more than several thousand kilos of metal and plastic with nothing to keep it in the air.
As the helicopter tumbled towards the ground, Jo caught a glimpse of the tower of Ringstone church, and wondered what it might have been like to get married there.
The Doctor ran as the helicopter plummeted from the sky, its metal skin hissing and steaming as the caustic mix of hydroquinone and hydrogen peroxide ate into the airframe.
It hit the ground on the far side of the field with an impact that knocked him off his feet. There was a brief moment of blissful silence, and then the fuel tank exploded, sending a ball of orange fire boiling into the clear blue sky. The Doctor covered his head with his arms as metal and burning plastic rained down around him. As the wave of scorching air swept over him, the Doctor scrambled back to his feet.
