Feeding Fersia

by L. S. O'Dea

  “You don’t.” Conguise turned toward him. “Why should I care what you think?”

  “Because I’m the expert on the Araneas.” He took a small step forward. It was plotted and planned but he kept his face impassive as if he didn’t realize he’d done it. “If you recall, I was the one who suggested we use Servants instead of Guards for this creature.” The professor didn’t like them called mutations. Conguise believed he was creating new species not mutating existing ones.

  “Yes. So?” Conguise’s nose was wrinkled a little as if he smelled something distasteful.

  Perhaps, the man could sense McBrid’s differences. Conguise knew that the different classes could breed and produce viable offspring. McBrid had read all the Necessary Truths. He’d spent too many years watching over his shoulder to work somewhere and not investigate everything. So shortly after he’d started, he’d broken into Conguise’s office and had spent every evening for several months studying everything he could find. There’d been pages and pages of information on their ancestry and the lies told to the populace.

  He leaned forward. Conguise took an unconscious step backward. He had to tread carefully. If Conguise were too nervous around him, his days here were over and that meant his time on earth was done. “I understand the physiology of the Araneas better than anyone.”

  “Obviously, not well enough.”

  Touché. “That was an unfortunate mistake and it won’t happen again. I...None of us had any idea she’d be that fragile.” He leaned back as Conguise’s eyes sparked with interest. “Something as strong as her. As fast as her. As deadly as her...and yet, her body was weak. It truly is amazing.”

  “Yes, she was and now she’s gone.”

  “I can create another one. A better one.”

  “She was the only one who survived the process,” snapped Conguise.

  “That’s not true. Eight males survived.”

  “Not for long.”

  “Because she killed them, not because of the transformation.” He moved to the chair by the desk. His time for penitence was over. “May I?”

  Conguise frowned but nodded, taking his own seat behind the desk. “You believe you can duplicate the success?”

  “I know I can.” He was almost positive he could. He’d tampered with the serum, making the dosage weaker and unknown to Conguise, he’d changed the proportions of the DNA of the contributing spiders.

  “Hmm. You said you’d make a better one. Better how?”

  “Aranea18 was amazing but uncontrollable. If you recall, her Servant host was similar. We chose her because she was strong and had a will to live.”

  “Yes, and that was the correct choice because she did survive unlike the others.”

  “But it also backfired.” He was excited to try this again. Aranea18 had been his duty, his creation but she’d become more trouble than she was worth. “As you’re aware there were many issues, too many, with Aranea18.”

  “She was extraordinary. We failed. We needed to learn how to control her.”

  “That would’ve never been possible, not with her.”

  “How do you propose to change it for Aranea19? She still needs to be strong, fast and deadly. I won’t allow you to make a weaker one. They must be strong.”

  Why they needed an army of giant spider-like monsters, he had no idea. The professor usually used DNA from creatures that had existed centuries ago, but for this one and a few others, Conguise had dabbled with local specimens.

  “And she will be. I think Ableson was on the right path before...his accident.”

  Ableson had been his friend. They’d spoken many times about their work. At the hospital, when Ableson had woken, McBrid had been the first person he’d asked to see. Ableson had been terrified that Conguise would discover what he’d done. He’d begged McBrid to go to his house and the lab and remove all his notes.

  He’d thought Ableson had just been frightened because his friend had taken his work home with him. It was against policy to remove anything from Level Five, but they all took their work home. Results were expected—more than expected. If a scientist didn’t produce, that scientist was officially fired. Unofficially, they disappeared. He’d agreed to his friend’s request and had retrieved all the notes and experiments that weren’t logged into Conguise’s system.

  “You think if she bonds with you, she’ll obey?” Conguise shook his head. “Don’t make the same mistake Ableson did.”

  “I didn’t say Ableson had been right. I said he was on the right path. There’s a big difference.” He’d spent weeks poring over his friend’s notes, and unlike Conguise he knew what had really triggered the River Man to attack. He’d do what scientists did—learn from others—but unlike Ableson, Conguise didn’t supervise his every action.

  “The right path? What path was that? The River-Man almost killed him.”

  “Yes. Unlike Ableson, I don’t intend to try and get the creature to bond with me.” That was a foolish belief spurred on by Conguise’s teachings. The professor tried to merge the host and the parasitic DNA but that never worked. The DNA destroyed the host. No matter how much serum the professor injected into his creations the host would transform. It’d be replaced by something else, something new, but the professor refused to see that.

  “Then what path are you talking about?”

  “The Guard who became the River-Man loved his companion.”

  “He killed that Servant.”

  “Yes.” Actually, that wasn’t what had happened. “But he may not have if you’d changed her too.”

  “You give too much credit to the other classes. They don’t feel love the way we do.”

  He knew for a fact that was false but as always, kept his mouth shut on that topic. “I believe that if I find a female who is in love with a male, they will breed and she won’t...eat him.”

  “You plan on using Servants again?”

  “Yes.” He hated experimenting on Guards.

  “Good luck with that. They’re the most faithless of the classes.”

  “But when they love, they love deeply if only for a few months. We don’t need them to pair forever, just long enough to produce offspring.”

  “That’s true.” Conguise’s eyes widened and a small smile played at his lips. “I hadn’t considered that.” He smiled fully. “That’s why I keep you around McBrid. You think differently than I do and although you’re usually wrong, sometimes you brush against genius.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Mostly wrong, his ass. His assumptions were almost always correct but Conguise would never admit that.

  “Do you think they can be controlled?”

  With food, like any other wild animal, but that wasn’t what the professor wanted to hear. “With your permission, we’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Go. Find your Servants in love.” Conguise held up one finger, halting McBrid’s exit. “I’m having a dinner party in two weeks. I’d like you to attend. It’s to celebrate Viola coming home from college.”

  “She’s almost finished, isn’t she?” He knew of the professor’s daughter, all the scientists did. Many hoped to catch her for a wife, cementing their place in Conguise’s lab. He wasn’t one of them.

  “She is. Spring will be her final semester. She’ll come to work for me, of course.”

  “Level?”

  “One to start. She’ll have to earn her promotions just like everyone else.”

  “Of course.” Please. The professor doted on his daughter. She’d be on Level Four before a year was out. Level Five? He wasn’t sure she’d ever make it there. She was a kind, young woman and may not agree with the experiments on Level Five. “Shall I bring a date?”

  “No. No.” Conguise shook his head. “I’ve invited everyone necessary. Just show up the Saturday after this one at six.” The professor turned back to his work.

  “Thank you, sir.” He walked to the door and stopped. “How is Ableson? I haven’t seen him since his release from the hospital.” No one had.
>
  Conguise’s looked up, his face now a mask. “He’s fine. Working on some research for me. Not ready to come back to the lab but still useful.”

  “Tell him I said hello.” Tell his corpse, because that’s what happened to anyone on Level Five who failed Conguise.

  CHAPTER 4: McBrid

  MCBRID HEADED FOR HIS office, glad he was still alive and that Conguise hadn’t ordered Charlie’s execution. He stopped at the door, his hand on the knob. He was faster and stronger than Almightys but he was no match for Aranea18. He had Almighty ears, so he couldn’t shift them, but he had a Guard’s hearing and he used every bit of it to listen for any sound. Araneas were a quiet creature but they did make noise when they moved. It was an eerie skittering sound of claws on tile, but today there was nothing but the office machines. He opened the door a crack. She could be waiting. When hungry she’d never been the patient type, always eager to attack and feed, but between feedings, she’d sit in the corner and study him and the Guards, watching for weaknesses and opportunities like the one she’d been given today.

  The body bag was in the cage where Louis had left it. McBrid’s sweaty palm slipped off the doorknob as he walked into the office, closing the door behind him. On second thought. He opened the door, propping a chair against it. It never hurt to leave an escape, not that she’d let him get away but maybe someone would hear him like he’d heard Charlie.

  He moved toward the enclosure, his nerves humming with warning. His hand shook as he unlocked the cage, his eyes never leaving the bag. He stepped inside. Any movement, even the slightest whisper, would send him fleeing to safety, but the bag remained still. He bent, his body hovering over her. If she attacked now, he’d have no chance. His heart pounded in his ears, blocking all other sound. He lifted the bag. She was amazingly light. Louis had said as much but he hadn’t truly understood. Most dead things seemed to weigh more as if burdened by the missing spirit but not Aranea18. Of course, he’d never lifted her when alive. He wouldn’t be here if he’d tried, but he’d assumed she’d be heavier. She’d been exceedingly strong and that usually meant muscle.

  He carried her to the table. None of the other females had made it through the metamorphosis. They’d died in their host shell—mutated and changed a little, but mostly Servant. The eight males...Well, there hadn’t been much left of them to study. Aranea18 had not only sucked out their juices but she’d annihilated their bodies, pulverizing them into dust. He’d assumed she’d done it on purpose, but perhaps once dead they were just fragile and had dissipated under her.

  His hand trembled on the bag’s zipper. This was the moment. She could be waiting, unable to escape. He slid the zipper down a fraction. Nothing moved. He unzipped it fully and stared at her corpse. Alive she’d been beautiful and deadly but now she looked small and weak. Her legs curled around her body as if hiding herself. Her abdomen was flat, empty with hunger and death. He touched one of her legs. The black bristles were soft like hair. He’d assumed they’d be hard like a wire brush. He gently moved her leg away from her face and a piece snapped off.

  “Damn.” He placed it on the table. She was even more delicate than he’d imagined. He reached into the bag and lifted her out, pushing the bag to the floor and placing her on the table next to her leg. He tried to move her other legs away from her body without breaking them, but they all snapped—brittle like fall leaves. He stacked them next to the other one.

  Her large fangs were filled with amber fluid. Today, he’d manage to save his job and his life, but next time he might not be so lucky. He needed a better insurance policy. Having copies of his notes stashed in numerous safe deposit boxes, would buy him time, but it wouldn’t free him from Conguise. Only death would do that.

  He wrapped his hand around a fang. It was hard, like a tooth and it didn’t break away like her legs had. He yanked but it didn’t budge. He needed that fluid. With this poison he could create a weapon, one that might kill Conguise before the professor put him inside the belly of a beast. He pulled harder. His hand, slippery from sweat, slid down the fang and his finger brushed against the tip.

  “Ouch!” He let go, shaking the small drop of blood from his finger. “Damn. Those are sharp.” The room spun and he wobbled, suddenly very sleepy. Drugs. She’d drugged her victims. He stumbled toward the door. If she were faking, pretending to be dead...No, he’d broken off her legs. She was dead. He dropped to his knees—but if she weren’t he would be.

  CHAPTER 5: McBrid

  WHEN MCBRID WOKE HIS head was pounding, his mouth was dry and his hand throbbed as if it’d been smashed with a hammer. He sat up, trying to remember what had happened. He was in his office. The door was shut. He’d left it open. Shit. She was alive.

  “You’re awake.” Charlie stood from where he’d been curled in the corner.

  Charlie was here and not scared. She had to be dead but he couldn’t stop himself from turning around. Aranea18 was lying on the table—legs piled alongside her torso. He exhaled slowly as his heart resumed a more normal pace.

  “Louis will be right back. He needed to use the bathroom,” said Charlie.

  “Louis?” He worked alone—always. “What are you doing here?”

  “I...We came by to thank you for helping me and saw you.” Charlie’s brown eyes were wide in his narrow face. “I thought you were dead. That she...” He glanced at Aranea18.

  “No. I’m fine.” He pushed himself off the floor. “Holy Araldo.” He shook his hand. His fingers were swollen and hot. Red streaks spread outward from the wound and his wrist was already beginning to swell.

  “That doesn’t look good,” said Charlie.

  No shit, genius. He walked to the counter and dumped alcohol over his hand. His knees buckled and the wound bubbled and foamed, burning out the poison, but it wouldn’t be fast enough. He had to incise it or he’d lose his hand, maybe his arm. He should’ve known better than to touch the damn fang but he’d thought he’d have to drain the poison. He hadn’t anticipated it leaking. Even in death she was deadly.

  “You should probably see the doctor.” Charlie fidgeted, his eyes going to the door.

  “No.” He couldn’t go to the doctor. The doctor reported to Conguise and although it was McBrid’s job to perform a necropsy he didn’t want any questions about the venom. Some of that was his.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Louis stepped into the room. “Good you’re...” His voice trailed off as his eyes landed on McBrid’s swollen hand.

  “Shut the door.” He would’ve handled this himself, but they were already involved so they may as well assist. “Come over here. Both of you.” He grabbed a knife.

  The two brothers glanced at each other but stayed where they were.

  “I’m not going to stab you.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Louis still looked unsure as he moved to the counter.

  Charlie followed, staying behind his brother.

  “Hold my arm.” He placed his hand, palm up, on the counter. He tried to straighten his fingers but they were too swollen.

  Louis grabbed his wrist. The Guard’s grip was firm and unyielding.

  “Good. Don’t let it move.” He glanced at Charlie over Louis’ shoulder. “Stretch out my fingers.”

  “What?” asked the young Guard.

  “I can’t do it myself.” His other palm was sweating, making his grip on the knife slip. He dropped it for a moment, wiping his hand on his pants. “Hurry. I’ve got to get this poison out.”

  Charlie moved around his brother, his hand shaking as he grabbed McBrid’s fingers, straightening them.

  “Shit,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

  Charlie let go.

  “No. Keep them straight.”

  The Guard grabbed them again, stretching them out.

  Sweat dripped down McBrid’s face and onto the counter as he wiped his hand on his pants again and grabbed the knife. “Hold it tight, boys.” He jabbed the knife into his finger and sliced. “Holy shi
t!” It was like someone shoved an ember under his already aching flesh. A thick yellow fluid oozed from the cut. He dropped the knife and used his other hand to push down on the wound. He needed to get all of it out or the dermonecrotic toxin would continue to feed on his flesh, making a disgusting shake for Aranea18’s dinner if she were still alive.

  His vision blurred as he continued to force the fluid from his hand. “Charlie, go to the closet and get a small sealed container.”

  The Guard dashed across the room and rummaged through the closet. He came back a little slower, his complexion graying as he stared at the mess of puss and blood that dripped onto the table.

  He snatched the container from Charlie, tearing off the seal and lid. “Let go, Louis.” He lifted his hand and collected some of the fluid. He’d study it later.

  Soon, only blood dripped from his finger. The poison was gone. Now came the hard part. The surrounding tissue had to go. He put his hand back onto the table.

  “Hold it down.”

  The large Guard grabbed McBrid’s wrist.

  “What are you going to do now?” Charlie once again hid behind his brother.

  “I have to remove all the damaged tissue.” His mind clamored, coming up with every reason not to do this, but it had to be done. “If I pass out, I need you to finish this.” His eyes met Louis’.

  “What do I have to do? Exactly.” Louis’ voice shook but the Guard would do what he was ordered. He was strong like that. All Guards were.

  “See where the tissue is inflamed.” He pointed at his finger with the knife. “That has to go. It’s filled with toxins and they can still spread.”

  “Okay,” said Louis, a bead of sweat running down his cheek.

  “Thank you.” He truly meant it. “Now, hold tight and I’ll try not to pass out.”

  Louis squeezed McBrid’s hand almost painfully, but that was nothing compared to what was coming. He took a deep breath and sliced off a chunk of his flesh. The room spun so he focused on his hand. He had to do this. Louis would try but he might not get it all. He cut off another hunk and another. His grandfather had hated him for being a Guard but no Almighty could’ve withstood this pain. Almightys were strong in mind but weak in body. He was a great blend of both but his grandfather had never understood that. Never. The old man had only seen and hated the Guard in him. He kept slicing until all the infected tissue was gone. He dropped the knife. “Bandage.” His voice was soft almost as if it came from someone else.