by Ray Garton
Connie spun around and went inside. She swung the back door hard behind her as she ran through the kitchen, but she did not hear the door shut. Instead, she heard thumping and scraping on the kitchen floor, following behind her.
She ran down the hall to the closet where Monty kept his rifle. Connie opened it and reached in –
– but something grabbed her from behind and lifted her as it pulled her back away from the open door.
Connie’s scream became a strangled cough as the spider’s fangs entered her back.
Twenty-One
Jerked from his sleep, Chris Burnham sat up in bed when he heard his mother scream. He found Tucker sitting on his haunches at the door, staring at the knob. Chris swung his legs over the edge of the bed and wondered if he’d really heard that, or if he’d dreamed it.
Tucker got up, walked in a circle, then sat down and stared at the doorknob again with a quiet whine.
Chris stood, went to the door, and opened it.
Tucker hurried out the door and his claws clicked on the hardwood floor as he went up the hall.
Chris scratched the back of his head and yawned. He turned and started to shuffle back to bed in his Star Wars footed pajamas when he heard Tucker whine again. The whine started high and went low, then stopped.
He heard what sounded like a distinct crunch sound, followed by a dull thump.
Chris went back to the door and stepped out into the hall. “Mom?” he said as he turned his head to the right.
The closet door was wide open, and a few feet away from it lay his mother. Beside her lay Tucker.
“Mommy?” Tucker said again, but higher in pitch, as he hurried up the hall to his mother’s side.
There was so much blood. She lay face-down, and there were three big, bloody holes in her back.
Tucker lay beside her, and a couple of feet from the dog was the dog’s head.
Chris’s vision blurred with tears as he lifted his eyes to look at the dark, open closet. He sobbed as he wiped away his tears.
The darkness in the closet moved. Long, skinny legs curled out of the open doorway and pulled a golden body out into the hall.
Chris knew he had to be dreaming. How many times had his parents told him there was no such thing as monsters? How many times had they told him they were only in movies, they were only special effects? How many times? And here, right in front of him, was a big, hairy, full-blown monster, as big as life, so he had to be dreaming. Even when he screamed, he knew he had to be dreaming, and he would wake up any second now, open his eyes and sit up in bed, and Tucker would be there, and he’d be able to pet him, and everything would be normal and safe.
But he did not wake up.
The spider moved forward and closed its fangs on the screaming boy.
The house fell silent for a moment. Then the hallway filled with the wet sounds of sloppy sucking and eating.
Twenty-Two
Maxine Pruitt sighed as her fat, sweaty, whiskey-reeking husband rolled off her with a sound like a knife slicing through cold ham.
Harvey flopped onto his back and belched, scratched his belly. He’d be asleep in two minutes.
Dudley – or “Duds,” as Harve called him – barked out in the back yard. He was some kind of shepherd mix, a mutt, really, but loveable. He also had an annoying bark.
Maxine lay there with her legs still spread, Harve’s mess between them. She usually took a shower afterward. She used to shower and masturbate, but that had become too much work, and seemed rather pointless, really. Besides, she could masturbate anytime – why would she do it after lying beneath Harve for a few smelly minutes?
Harve snored. He sounded like someone was torturing zoo animals. She’d told him several times that he probably had sleep apnea and he should see a doctor about it, but he never listened to her.
Maxine sat up on the edge of the bed, sighed again, then told herself to stop sighing. She stood and put on Harve’s old robe, a tent of burgundy velour. She liked the way it engulfed her.
She left the bedroom in bare feet, padded down the dark hall to the bathroom and took a quick shower. She dried off, put the robe back on, and went down the hall to her daughter’s room. The soft blue glow of Dana’s Harry Potter nightlight fell into the hall. Five-year-old Dana didn’t like to sleep with the door closed, so Maxine always left it open at night. She went to her daughter’s bedside.
Dana was lying on her side with her back to the door. She made a soft little snoring sound that made Maxine smile.
Dudley still barked out back. She wondered, had he been barking all this time and she’d been too preoccupied to notice? Probably a neighborhood cat. But Dudley seldom barked at anything for long.
She went down the hall to the kitchen. She wanted something to drink, but wasn’t sure what. Tea? Wine? She didn’t drink often – watching Harve get drunk every night had turned her off of liquor, for the most part. But a glass of wine sounded good right about now. It sounded civilized, especially compared to Harve’s swilling.
They’d talked about his drinking problem, and it always ended with him saying, “I’ve got it under control.”
She’d seen him shake in the morning. She knew he started early, after she left for work. That was why she took Dana over to her sister’s house each day. Barbara had two kids of her own, Tommy and Denise, and the girls were the same age. They enjoyed playing together. Barbara’s husband James had a good job with UPS, a job he valued and worked hard to keep.
Harve once had a good job at Merriweather’s Feed. That didn’t sound like much, but he’d made manager, and the feed store was owned by Ozzie Merriweather, a wealthy old man who believed in taking good care of his employees, providing benefits and retirement plans. It was a coveted job from Hope Valley to Ridgeton, but openings were few. Once you worked for Merriweather, you hung onto that job with all you were worth. The only reason Harve had made manager was that the guy who’d managed him had died, and Harve had been there the longest of the low-level employees. It was a huge feed store that serviced ranchers farmers throughout the entire county.
Harve had been caught drinking. He’d been warned. Old man Merriweather himself had a talk with Harve and had offered to get him treatment. Harve had insisted he didn’t need it. He’d become so obstinate that the old man had fired him then and there.
Maxine opened the bottle of two-dollar wine she’d bought some weeks ago with the thought that a glass or two now and then would be nice. She poured the white wine into a cheap wineglass from a set they had in the cupboard and never used.
She left the kitchen. It opened on a tiny corner dining area with a small oval table and four chairs. She and Dana stills ate meals at the table, but Harve always ate in front of the television. The dining area opened was connected to the living room. She went there, put her wineglass on an end table, and flopped onto the couch. She turned on the TV with the remote and flipped through the channels. She didn’t know how much longer they’d be able to afford cable. Harve would be devastated, of course. Maybe he’d get off his ass and do something if he didn’t have television to watch.
Dudley was still barking. If he didn’t stop soon, she’d go out and tell him to shut up. All she needed to do was piss off one of the neighbors she hardly knew.
Maxine knew she should be sleeping. She worked two jobs – eight hours a day waiting tables at the twenty-four-hour Oven Mitt Café next to the truck stop, then she cleaned several houses over in Wooded Acres once or twice a week.
Harve still clung to the lie that he was looking for work. Half the time, Harve couldn’t look for his dick. The rutting she’d endured tonight was rare, and getting rarer.
She remembered the early years of their marriage, when he was still slender and muscular, back when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. It seemed a lifetime ago, almost like something she remembered from a book she’d read. It wasn’t quite real enough to miss anymore.
Maxine preferred to stay in shape. Even though Harve ne
ver noticed, she still looked good. She still jogged whenever she had the chance and still got admiring looks from the bagboys at the grocery store, which made her feel pretty damned good.
Maxine lived for Dana. They’d been married ten years when they’d had Dana, and Maxine had seen the way the wind was blowing then. She’d never given but the most cursory thought to getting out. Maxine and her parents, and Harve and his parents, were all very Catholic. Divorce was not an option. Neither of their parents would approve of a divorce. Harve had stopped going to church with her years ago, something the parents on both sides complained about a lot.
Dudley continued to bark. Maxine decided to ignore it for the moment. She was enjoying her wine.
Twenty-Three
Rodney paced his bedroom with the radio on, tuned to the local news-talk station, as he talked quietly with Heidi on the the phone.
“They’re talking about space aliens on the radio,” Rodney said.
“You’re kidding.”
“No, really. There’s this guy who says he knows a guy in some other country who’s been in touch with aliens called Pladians, or something, for years.”
She laughed quietly. “Do you believe him?”
Rodney thought about that. “You know, after tonight, after what we saw ... it’s hard not to wonder what else is out there.”
After a long pause, she said, “Yeah, I know what you mean. I had a hard time believing it while I was seeing it.”
“Me, too. It’s almost as if – “
The doorbell rang.
“Whoa,” he said, “somebody’s at the door. Hang on.” He left his room and hurried down the hall before the bell rang again. He didn’t want to disturb his parents. He looked out the peephole. “It’s Sheriff Harker, and he’s got a shotgun.” He opened the door. “Hi, Sheriff.”
“Sorry to bother you so late,” Harker said.
“No problem. Come in.” Rodney stepped aside, the phone still to his ear, then closed the door behind Sheriff Harker.
“I need to talk to your brother.”
“My brother?”
“You said he was a ... spider geek?”
“Yeah.”
“I need to know as much as I can about the sun spider. Can I see him?”
Down the hall, Rodney saw light under Harry’s bedroom door. He walked in without knocking and found Harry at his desk watching Kingdom of the Spiders.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” Rodney said.
“With a giant spider loose? I’m all psyched!”
“Be quiet, I don’t wanna wake Mom and Dad. Sheriff Harker’s here, he wants to talk to you.”
“Sheriff wants to talkta me?” Harry’s eyebrows rose above the rims of his glasses.
“Yeah, come on.”
Rodney led him back up the hall. Harker had turned on a lamp in the living room and sat on the edge of Dad’s club chair, the shotgun across his lap. He stood when they walked in and held the shotgun with the barrel down.
“Harry?” he said. “I need to ask you some questions.”
“About the spider?” Harry said with undisguised excitement.
“Yes. About the spider. I need to know how to kill it.”
Harry nodded at the shotgun. “That’d prob’ly do it. It’s big, but I’m assuming it’s not indestructible. A shotgun should kill it.”
Harker nodded. “Okay. Then how do I lure it?”
Harry looked at Rodney, then at Harker. “I dunno. Far as I know, there’s no way to lure a sun spider. Sun spiders pretty much go wherever they want and eat whatever they want to eat. They’re mean and pissed off.”
Harker nodded again, but wearily this time, clearly disappointed and frustrated. “Okay. Okay.” He stood. “Anything you can think of that I should know?”
“Don’t try to outrun it,” Harry said. “Kill it as soon as you see it. It moves so fast, you’ll be lucky to get off a shot.”
“Thanks, Harry,” Sheriff Harker said.
“What the hell’s going on?” Dad said.
Rodney turned around and saw his dad standing in the hall in his boxers.
Oh, shit, Rodney thought. He said, “Dad. Uh, the sheriff’s here.”
“I can see that,” Dad said. “What’s the problem?”
Harker said, “Sorry to disturb you, sir. I came to talk to your son. He knows a lot about spiders, and right now, I’ve got a great big spider running around killing people.”
“A ... spider?” Dad said.
“Your sons will tell you about it,” Harker said. “I’ve gotta go. You folks stay inside at all times. Keep all your windows and doors closed and locked.”
“A spider?” Dad said again.
Harker went to the door, then turned back to Dad. “Listen to your sons. They’re telling you the truth.” He left.
Dad turned to the boys, his mouth open, eyes sleepy. “What’s going on? And how did you guys get involved.”
Rodney took a deep breath. “Come in and sit down, Dad. I’ll tell you everything.”
Twenty-Four
Maxine dozed a little on the sofa as she watched one of the shopping channels. The jewelry shows were her favorite.
Dudley was still barking.
She rubbed her eyes and got up, went back to the kitchen. She stood at the sliding glass door that led out to the back yard.
Dudley yelped a couple times, then cried out. The dog’s cry was cut short.
Maxine stopped breathing a moment and listened. She could see nothing through the glass door with the kitchen light on.
“Dudley?” she whispered.
Her breath trembled as she exhaled. She turned and opened the drawer at the end of the counter. From the mess of candles, matches, rubber bands, paperclips and pens, she removed a twelve-inch red flashlight. She turned it on and slid the glass door aside.
As she stepped out onto the small concrete patio, she heard ... something. She crossed the patio to the grass, which was cold and damp beneath her bare feet, and raised the flashlight. She sent the beam into the back corner of the yard.
Slurping, that was what she heard. Sucking and slurping.
An alarm went off in the back of her mind, and her chest felt tight.
“Dudley?” she said.
Maxine passed the flashlight to the left, across the back fence, and it landed on something that was moving, something big with a lot of legs, and it was on Dudley, who lay still on the grass. It was moving on top of Dudley, this thing, and made those sounds, those horrible slurping and sucking sounds, and –
– it stopped.
Maxine’s heart beat so hard, it prodded the backs of her eyeballs. She swallowed a whimper as she backed up, heading for the open sliding door.
It turned around. Big glistening black things moved on its face.
“Oh, shit,” Maxine said as she turned and ran through the open door. She spun around, slid it closed and locked it as something slammed into it hard enough to spread a web of cracks through the glass.
She screamed as she threw herself backward and fell on her ass. The thing on the other side of the door watched her. That whimpering sound made its way out of her because the thing had Dudley’s blood on it and it had smeared the blood on the glass, and if it hit that glass one more time, it would probably get through. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was the thing itself, a thing she knew in her mind could not exist, and yet there it was, a spider big enough to crack the glass in her door.
Maxine clambered to her feet and frantically looked around the kitchen for the phone, where was the phone?
“Where the fuck is the phone?” she whispered harshly.
The base was on the counter, but the receiver was gone.
She ran into the living room.
The thing outside pounded against the glass door again. Maxine heard the crack. But it hadn’t broken open. Not yet.
The phone was on the end table at the other end of the couch. She snatched it up and ran back through the living room, past
the small dining area and the glass door –
It was backing up from the door, preparing to ram it again.
– and down the hall to Dana’s room, where she turned to close the door –
She heard the glass in the door break and jingle as it fell in.
– and she heard it coming, heard its legs thumping over the floor.
She slammed the bedroom door and locked it. She walked quickly backward away from it until she hit Dana’s bed and flopped into a sitting position on the mattress.
Dana sat up and squinted at her. “What’s the matter, Mommy?”
“Just lie down, honey, okay? Just lie down and – “
It thumpeted over the floor and up onto the wall in the hallway, then knocked against the door.
Maxine gasped as her head jerked toward the door. She stared at it a moment, then turned back to Dana and said, “Just get under the blankets and cover your ears, okay? Will you do that for Mommy?”
“But what’s – “
”Just do it, honey, please.”
“Okay.” She lay back down and pulled the covers up over her head.
The thing outside went back and forth. It’s legs thumped unnervingly over the floor and wall and door.
“Keep it together,” she said, breathing the words to herself. She looked at the phone, turned it on, punched nine-one-one and put it to her ear.
Twenty-Five
Harker had driven slowly through Hope Valley Heights, up and down every street, and even down the cul de sacs. Cats darted across the streets through the beams of his headlights. A dog had chased him a few yards. If there were still cats and dogs roaming the streets, chances were the sun spider had not been through there. Not yet.
He left the neighborhood behind and went to the next development, where he did the same thing.
Shelly’s voice came over the radio. “I got a woman who says she has a spider in the house. Thirteen forty-two Sunset Way, one-three-four-two, Sunset Way.”
