Creepy Crawly Chaos

by George Ivanoff

  A scientist in a white lab coat enters. Her eyes are wide behind large round glasses; her hair is wild and all over the place, looking like an exploded bird’s nest.

  ‘This area is restricted,’ she declares. Her voice is harsh and gravelly.

  The whining sound increases in pitch and volume. You turn back to see that the ball of light has grown, taking up all the dais.

  ‘What have you done?’ shrieks the woman.

  You slam your hand on the screen in one last attempt to shut it down. The ball of light flares out, and you are blinded. Searing heat spills over you. Your clothes turn to ash and fall away. Your body contorts and mutates as you sprout wings and extra legs.

  As your vision returns, everything looks wrong. You are seeing multiple images through compound eyes. The screen has gone blank, and on its surface you see your image reflected. You have changed … into a distorted meshing of human and housefly.

  You turn to see the scientist staring at you with a horrified expression.

  If you want to approach her for help, go here.

  Or you could simply flee. Go here.

  You decide to hide. Racing over to the workbenches, you throw yourself under the furthest one.

  A scientist in a white lab coat enters the room. Her eyes are wide behind large round glasses; her hair is wild and all over the place, looking like an exploded bird’s nest. She immediately approaches the console, her eyes glaring at the screen.

  ‘Someone has been in here,’ she declares, her voice harsh and gravelly, as she spins around to search the room.

  She strides over to your workbench, reaches under and grabs you by your sleeve. She yanks so hard that you are pulled out from your hiding place and flung across the room. Hands outstretched, you use the console to steady yourself, inadvertently activating commands on the screen.

  ‘What have you done?’ the scientist shouts, rushing over to look at the console.

  But you’re watching the dais. A ball of intense green light has formed in the centre. Within it, you can see a bird-eating spider and a wasp. Before your eyes the two creatures melt into each other, merging and mutating … and growing.

  The light flares and fades, leaving a horrendous creature hovering in midair – a huge spider-wasp mutation. Its malevolent eyes are staring straight at you, its eight legs quivering. An enormous stinger protrudes from between massive fangs dripping with venom.

  The scientist is frantically working at the console, trying desperately to reverse what you have just created.

  ‘Bug spray,’ she commands. ‘On the bench in the other lab. Get it!’

  To fetch the bug spray, go here.

  Of course, you could just run away. Go here.

  You wander off on your own, down a corridor and into a side room. There are two doors. One is labelled BASEMENT; the other INSECT ENTERTAINMENT. Which would you like to check out?

  To go down into the BASEMENT, go here.

  To check out the INSECT ENTERTAINMENT, go here.

  ‘There are over 180,000 species of Lepidoptera,’ explains the guide as she leads the way down a corridor. ‘There are many differences between butterflies and moths. Whereas butterflies are mostly diurnal – that is, active in the daytime – moths are mostly nocturnal, coming out at night. So our moth enclosure is quite dark, with a few strategically positioned lights to attract them. Please be careful, as the moths are very delicate creatures and their wings get easily damaged.’ She pauses in front of a door. ‘Okay, are we ready?’

  ‘No,’ answers a boy named Greg. ‘I don’t like moths. They’re just creepy butterflies. They feel all feathery and powdery and it’s … it’s … just … yuck!’

  ‘Goodness,’ says the guide. ‘First spider-kid and now moth-boy! You can wait out here if you want, so that the big bad moths won’t get you.’

  You’re glad that the attention has shifted to Greg, with the other kids forgetting about you and teasing him instead. You think that maybe you should join in, to keep the focus away from you.

  As the guide is opening the door, you jokingly suggest that you might catch a moth and bring it out for Greg.

  Greg looks horrified. The other kids think it’s hilarious.

  The guide takes the group into the moth house. It’s dim and gloomy, hot and humid. You are on a wooden walkway surrounded by all sorts of plants. There are also feeding stations disguised as flowers, with nectar fed through tubing. As you walk through the shadows, you feel a fluttering brush past your face and suddenly understand why Greg finds moths a bit scary.

  ‘Okay,’ says one of the girls, grabbing your arm. ‘Go catch that moth for Greg.’

  You hadn’t really meant it. But now you’ve been put on the spot. All the kids have gathered around you expectantly. Will you go through with it?

  To try to catch a moth to use against Greg, go here.

  To refuse, go here.

  You really don’t want to torment Greg. You shake your head, refusing to carry out the joke of capturing a moth for him.

  ‘You are such a chicken,’ says the girl, letting go of your arm and glaring at you. ‘Like, a total wimp.’

  Some of the other kids make clucking noises as they wander away.

  You head off to catch up with the guide, who’s at the other end of the room observing something. You see that she’s watching an enormous moth resting on the walkway railing. You let out a gasp of amazement.

  ‘It’s a Hercules Moth,’ explains the guide. ‘Largest specimen we have here. Its wingspan is about twenty-seven centimetres. It’s an absolute beauty.’

  Yes, it certainly is beautiful – it’s a mix of brown and gold colours, and at the centre of its wings are circular patterns that look very much like eyes. Its fuzzy antennae are like delicate feathers.

  The Hercules Moth flaps its wings and gracefully launches into the air, fluttering about your head before coming to rest on your shoulder. Amazing!

  You’d never realised just how astonishing these creatures are. Perhaps you can become a moth scientist when you grow up. That would be an interesting career. As the insect takes to the air again, you look at the guide and wonder if you should ask her about it.

  To talk to the guide about a career in Lepidoptery, go here.

  Then again, she’ d probably just laugh at you. To move on, go here.

  You realise that if you don’t go through with your suggestion, your classmates will tease you again. So you nod, and head off through the gloom in search of a moth to capture.

  You hold your arm out, hoping one might land on you. But they just flutter past.

  You approach a feeding station that has a cluster of moths sitting on it. If you could get some nectar into your hand, you could attract a moth.

  You reach out to the feeding station, but it’s just beyond your grasp. You climb up onto the walkway railing and reach out again.

  Overbalancing, you topple forward and grab onto the feeding station for support. But it gives way and crashes to the ground.

  ‘What’s going on?’ the guide shouts.

  As you get on your feet, you realise that the tube from the broken feeder is spurting nectar all over you. You grab the end of the tube to try to block the liquid, but it’s no good – you are covered, head to toe, in sticky moth-food.

  A moth lands on your head to feed. It’s followed by another. And then another.

  Within moments moths are flocking to you, their wings dusty and furry against your skin. Greg’s right – they are creepy.

  You try to brush them off, but more and more of them cluster around.

  ‘You vandal!’ screeches the guide. ‘Leave those moths alone!’

  But you are encased in a cocoon of beating wings that flap against your lips and quiver across your eyeballs. You close your eyes and scream. But the wings brush the inside of your mouth, making you retch.

  Your panicking heart flutters in time to the beat of the wings. You are soaked in sweat and nectar. You lose track of time as you curl up into
a ball and start crying.

  By the time the guide and the staff manage to clear away the moths, you are a gibbering mess. You don’t even notice Greg laughing at you.

  Traumatised by the event, you are forever terrified of moths, the mere sight of one sending you into an uncontrollable panic.

  You race from the room into the outer laboratory. The bug spray is sitting on the workbench, but you run straight past it and out into the Centre.

  A horrible piercing scream freezes you in your tracks. The scientist? Then you hear something else …

  BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

  You look back over your shoulder.

  The spider-wasp is zooming through the air, heading straight for you!

  You take off at full speed, sprinting through the corridors, past various insect and arachnid displays, your very own insect-arachnid hybrid on your tail. Other visitors scatter when they see you and the creature coming past.

  A splatter of sticky webbing hits the wall to your left. OMG! Is the creature firing web bursts at you?

  You feel something slimy smack you on the back of your head. Reaching up, you touch a taut string of webbing pulling at your hair. As you approach a T-junction in the corridor you get an idea.

  You take a hold of the web and yank on it as you come to a halt in front of the wall. Then you duck. The spider-wasp, attached to the web, is propelled over you and smashes into the wall.

  You wrench the sticky web off your head – pulling out a good deal of your hair with it. As you back away from the wall, you see that the spider-wasp is twitching within the web splatter. It peels itself off the wall and hovers in the air, wings flapping as it makes angry buzzing sounds. You haven’t stopped it … you’ve just made it really MAD!

  In an attempt to escape, you trip over your own feet and come crashing to the floor. The creature slowly flies towards you, venom dribbling from its stinger and fangs, saliva drooling from its maw. It’s almost upon you when …

  It’s scooped up in a net.

  Relieved, you look up to see the scientist, covered in ragged bits of webbing, holding a long pole with a large net at the end. Trapped within the mesh is the spider-wasp buzzing in fury.

  ‘I told you to get the bug spray,’ she snarls at you. She gives you a swift kick, slings the pole over her shoulder and marches off.

  You’re safe.

  As you sit up, you reach a hand to your head to discover a bald patch where your hair has been ripped out by the web. You wonder how you’ll look with a comb-over.

  You race from the room into the outer laboratory. The bug spray is sitting on the workbench. You pick it up and run back, just in time to see the spider-wasp shoot a string of sticky web at the scientist.

  With the can held out in front of you, you approach the creature. As soon as you’re in range, you let fly with the spray.

  HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

  A cloud of noxious fumes surrounds the mutant insect.

  It coughs and splutters before shooting out more web. The gluey glob hits your spray can, clogging up the nozzle. You try to wipe it off but it’s holding fast … and the spider-wasp is heading straight towards you.

  You pull the can back over your shoulder and swing it like a bat as the creature approaches. The blow sends the spider-wasp hurtling into the control console. A blast of sparks and smoke knocks the scientist off her feet and fries the monster bug.

  You breathe a sigh of relief.

  But then an alarm sounds and the lights go red.

  ‘Oh no!’ yells the scientist as she struggles to get up. ‘The Metebelis Generator that powers the DNA Manipulator is overloading. The radiation spill could cause all sorts of random mutations. We have to shut it down!’

  We? What’s this we stuff? You could just run away. After all, it’s not your problem. Although you did kind of cause this by sneaking into the RESTRICTED area. You’re morally obliged to help, aren’t you?

  What will you do?

  To stay and help, go here.

  To run away, go here.

  You are so horrified by your own image and the scientist’s expression upon seeing you that you push past her and shamble out of the laboratory.

  People scream and run, repulsed by the very sight of you as you make your way through the Centre. Your mind is fogging over. You’re no longer sure why you are here or even how you got here. Your thoughts are being replaced by hunger.

  As you burst through the exit, you launch into the air and fly. Circling through the sky, you look for food.

  And then you spot it. The city’s rubbish tip, full of lovely decomposing things to eat. You zoom down and land beside a rotting heap of food scraps. You’re about to tuck in when you notice a pile of mouldy old dog poo. Even better!

  The poo is covered in flies, ordinary little ones. And they’re eating your poo. You try to tell them to buzz off, but instead you make a horrendous, inhuman screeching sound. The flies take off, rushing to get away from you.

  You’re the king of this tip – King Fly! Ruler of the Rubbish!

  It’s time for you to have a royal feast.

  But now that you’re a giant fly, you don’t eat in the same way you used to. First, you churn up the acid in your stomach, then you heave it up, spewing it all over the dog poo. As the poo begins to digest, you stick your proboscis into the liquefying stuff and slurp away.

  Yum, yum!

  You take a step towards the scientist, holding your arms out in a pleading fashion. She screams and backs away. You want to yell, ‘Help me! Help me!’, but instead you make a horrendous, inhuman screeching sound.

  The scientist runs back into the outer laboratory.

  Your mind is beginning to fog over, thoughts and memories being replaced by hunger. As you stagger after the scientist, you find yourself knocked to the ground.

  You look up to see the scientist with an oversized swatter in her hand. You try to get up but she hits you again and again.

  Ouch! Ouch!

  You cower.

  She runs over to the bench and then returns with something else …

  A can of bug spray!

  She points it in your direction and a cloud of noxious fumes envelops you. You cough and splutter … and black out.

  You decide that your safety is way more important than any moral obligations. You run for the door.

  ‘You’re not going anywhere!’ yells the scientist, grabbing your shirt and pulling you back.

  Wow! Is she strong or what?

  But you twist around and escape her grip, making it out the door. Then you slam it and lock it shut.

  She bangs on the other side.

  ‘Let me out!’ she yells. ‘We need to fix this problem, or the whole world will be in danger.’

  The whole world? Is she telling the truth? Perhaps you should unlock the door?

  She continues to bang on the door and yell, her voice getting more agitated and guttural with each shout.

  To unlock the door and release the scientist, go here.

  To leave her in there and run away, go here.

  You agree to help.

  ‘The Metebelis Generator is in there,’ says the scientist, pointing to the metal sliding door at the far end of the lab. ‘We need to shut it down.’

  You shrug and head for the door.

  ‘No!’ she shouts. ‘You can’t just go inside with the generator on overload. You’ll mutate before you can get to it. In fact, the radiation is already seeping into here.’

  Green mist wafts under the door.

  ‘By the way,’ she says, ‘my name’s Dr Geena Brundle.’

  You’re about to introduce yourself, but she cuts you off. ‘No time for small talk. Follow me!’

  She leads you out of the lab to an equipment room in another part of the Centre. The alarm is still blaring and people are panicking as they flee.

  Brundle brings out white hazmat suits, backpacks full of super-strength bug poison with large holstered spray wands, and oversized electrif
ied swatters. Once the two of you are kitted out, you head back to the lab.

  You arrive at the RESTRICTED area to find the door smashed open from the inside. Something has escaped.

  Green mist pours through the demolished doorway, which is lit by an eerie glow.

  ‘Right,’ says Brundle. ‘I’m going in to shut down the generator. You better go and hunt down whatever it was that broke out of here.’

  And with that, she disappears into the mist.

  Do you really want to go off mutant-bug hunting on your own? Perhaps it would be better to stick with Brundle?

  To follow Brundle, go here.

  To go after the mutant escapee, go here.

  You decide not to talk to the guide about Lepidoptery. In fact, you decide you need a change of scenery. You head out of the moth house, past Greg (who is fearfully huddling in a corner, in case you brought a moth with you) and go off to explore on your own.

  Go here.

  You slowly open the door marked INSECT ENTERTAINMENT, and peer in. It’s a large room with cages and enclosures of various sizes, all gathered around a miniature stage in the centre.

  ‘Come in! Come in!’ calls a brash voice.

  A short rotund man in a green suit steps out from behind one of the enclosures. His bald head is covered by a thin layer of long hair strands, combed over from tufts just above his ears. His hands are resplendent with large gold rings and his bow tie is sparkly red.

  ‘Don’t be shy,’ he says, his wide smile revealing a prominent gold tooth. It glints under the bright stage lighting.

  You walk into the room. The first enclosure you approach has five huntsman spiders wearing gold shoes. As you pass, they tap-dance. Your mouth hangs open.