by E. J. Foster
Jessa heard the impact from behind her and stopped, turning to see Finn writhing on the ground holding his ankle.
She helped him to his feet, taking one of his arms around her shoulder, and they pressed on, slower now. Finn hissed through puckered lips with each step.
They entered a stairwell and started up it. The arrow on the sign pointed upward and read: Bridge Castle.
Three flights up, and Finn was exhausted from the effort. They could climb no more.
“In here,” Jessa said, guiding Finn through a door marked Mess Deck.
Jessa and Finn weaved their way through a maze of round dining tables to the farthest end of the room. There was another steel door with a small square window in it. The sign read: Galley.
“The kitchen?” Finn asked. “This is no good.” He shook his head.
“Why not?” Jessa asked.
“Haven’t you seen Jurassic Park?” Finn hissed.
The sound of creaking steel moaned from the stairwell they had just come from. A metal clicking and tapping echoed from behind them.
Jessa dragged Finn into the galley.
She pulled the shiny metal door shut as quietly as she could. It latched with a distinctive click, but there was no lock.
She ran to a panel of light switches and killed them all, plunging the room into semi-darkness. With an arm around Finn, she helped him down an aisle, and they hid at the end, behind a counter, breathing hard.
Finn's ankle burned and throbbed, and he hissed in pain.
A spider's head popped into view, visible through the square window in the middle of the dining room door.
It looked for a moment as its breath formed steam on the window.
Finn and Jessa remained frozen in fear as the spider seemed to sniff at the bottom of the door, then thump its head against it, but the door did not budge.
The spider stared down at the door handle, cocking its head curiously. It hissed and bumped the door handle with its head, but that was ineffective. Then, it reached out toward the handle with the tip of one black hairy leg.
Finn and Jessa stared in shock as the door handle started to turn.
The door opened.
The spider stood in the doorway, drawing itself up to full height, and looked around the kitchen. The black beast had a platinum streak right down the middle of it.
A second spider, also with a platinum streak, joined it in the doorway, and the two creatures moved into the room, brushing against each other. The first spider snapped at the second as if to say, keep your distance.
“Double trouble,” Finn mouthed at the sight. “The twins!”
The spiders split, taking two different aisles. Finn and Jessa crawled away, Finn weaker now and losing steam, down a third aisle and around the other side of the counter from the spiders, moving in the opposite direction.
As Finn and Jessa passed the spiders, one of the beasts knocked over some pots and pans, sending them flying off the counter. They fell on the kids, who managed to keep quiet.
Finn grimaced and shut his eyes tight, expecting more pain.
The kids kept moving as one of the spiders dipped down, looking through an open cabinet to inspect the racket.
Finn and Jessa reached the end of the aisle and around a corner, but Finn fell behind, and he accidentally brushed against some hanging kitchen utensils. The sounds tinkled like a windchime.
Both spiders turned. One jumped onto the counter, knocking more stainless-steel kitchen bowls and utensils to the floor. A serving spoon clattered to a stop, and the strange metallic sounds confused the spiders for a moment.
But then they moved in Finn's direction, heading straight for him.
The spider on the floor was just about to turn the corner to where Finn sat, exposed and exhausted, but both creatures suddenly stopped when they heard a tapping sound from the other end of the aisle.
It was Jessa, tapping a wooden spoon on the floor to distract them. The spider on the counter jumped down and started cautiously towards Jessa, leaving Finn behind.
Jessa saw an open steel cabinet behind her, and she crawled inside silently.
Finn saw the spiders make the turn towards Jessa, smashing more stuff around with their large legs. He turned and saw a walk-in freezer in the far wall, with a pin-locking handle. Jackpot.
As Jessa tried to pull the overhead door to the cabinet shut, one of the spiders rounded the corner and saw her reflection on a shiny cabinet front. Jessa tried frantically to lower the cabinet door, but it was stuck.
Finn took a few deep breaths, summoning what little strength he had left, and made a break for the walk-in freezer. He limped, dragging himself, moving like wounded prey, and the other spider spotted him.
Both spiders went into a pre-attack crouch, ready to pounce, each one facing towards one of the kids.
34
We had been running for what seemed like a quarter mile. How big was this ship? Katiana was leading the way when she finally slowed, putting one hand in the air, signaling us to stop.
“This place of spider,” Katiana spoke in broken English. She had stopped just short of the turn, peering around the corner. She turned back to me. “In there.”
“Is it there now?” I asked.
“Je ne sais pas,” she answered.
“Before we risk it, let’s make damn sure the kids are still in the gallery,” I said. “Jules, camera.”
Jules already had her phone out, the glow of the screen illuminating the shocked expression on her face, as her mouth fell open.
“What is it?” I asked, but Jules couldn’t answer. I positioned myself over her shoulder to see.
On the phone screen was the same feed as before. The galley. Finn and Jessa were hunkered down behind the countertops. But there was something new in the frame. Two giant spiders.
From the camera view, I could see no way out for Finn and Jessa. They were trapped inside the kitchen. I wanted to yell, run! but there was nowhere for them to go.
The phone trembled in Jules’ hand.
Katiana moved to view the feed as well.
“Mon Dieu!” Katiana inhaled sharply putting a hand on her chest. “The children.”
Just then, on the screen, I saw Finn make a break for the walk-in freezer.
The heat of the network equipment room was getting to Martin. He didn’t know who this belonged to. Property of Jules. But he knew one thing for sure. It didn’t belong here.
Besides, the captain made it very clear that he had no patience for anything else right now.
It would be best to resolve this quickly and get back up to the bridge.
Martin grabbed the red wire in his fist, and with one pull, and some pent-up frustration, he ripped the cord right out of the network switch.
Jules steadied the phone in her shaky hands. On the screen, Finn was sprinting toward the freezer.
A large spider on top of the counter turned and locked in on Finn. The spider crouched, loading energy into the elasticity of its legs, and then launched after the boy.
Then, the entire screen glitched into a mosaic of colored pixels and then went black. The only remaining thing on screen was two white letters in the upper left corner. GL.
35
The phone fell from Jules’ trembling hands. It was as if a century passed before it hit the floor and shattered.
The world spun and my legs wobbled. What had I just watched? It couldn’t be true.
I felt a bile of anger rising in me. The vein in my neck throbbed, and my fists clenched tightly, ready to fight the universe itself. The sign on the wall read: 210 days since the last accident. I ripped a fire extinguisher off the wall and smashed it against the other firefighting supplies that were strapped there. I launched the extinguisher, and sent it bouncing down the hall, ringing out like a gong with each impact, until it settled into a whirling circle, spinning to a stop.
“Please. Don't be true,” I gasped, speaking directly to the universe. “Just let them be okay.”
Jules was silent and motionless. She was in shock. I’d seen it before. Maybe I was, too.
I’d come here to protect these kids, and I couldn’t do it. I had failed them. And Katie. Oh god. How would I tell her?
All the energy drained out of me, and I felt my body sag with the loss. I wasn’t sure I could go on, or if I even wanted to.
Jules finally spoke through trembling lips. “Do you think they’re...” She couldn’t finish the question, and it was just as well. I didn’t have an answer. At least not one I wanted to speak out loud.
The comfort of a feminine hand fell on my back, and somehow, it made me feel less... alone.
“No,” Katiana said with a confidence that almost made me believe her. “Do not think it,” she added.
I looked up again and there they were, those sapphire eyes, glossy with empathy, staring back at me.
“The children will be okay,” she said.
I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe I was back on my boat, fishing. I wanted to believe those meteorites never fell to begin with. I wanted to believe Finn and Jessa were back in the treehouse, recanting old sailing lore. And that Jules and Katie were safe at home. And that none of this ever happened, and this ship never existed.
Except for Katiana.
The only good thing to happen to me in the past two days was Katiana. If all this magically went away, she would have to go with it. The universe was a cruel-hearted bitch.
The anger inside rose again, heating my blood. The throbbing was back––as was the spider.
36
I picked up the ax, clenching my fists around it. Light glinted off the polished chrome of the razor’s edge. I hefted it in my hands. The weight felt just right.
I stared at the eight-legged monster, making direct eye contact. My anger was complete.
I turned to the girls. “Stay back, behind this wall. I’ll handle this.”
Katiana gave a quick silent nod. Jules said nothing as they both retreated.
It was time for vengeance. I had seen it in others, and even read about it, but I never fully understood the emotion until this moment. Warm red blood pulsed through me, down my arms and into the ax handle itself. The killing blade and I had become one.
I stalked forward in the direction of the beast. It clicked eight legs, tap dancing a response and threatening to maneuver, but its general position remained unchanged. My eyes narrowed as I quickened my pace, raising my killing blade.
The spider danced to the left, and I matched it, keeping myself in between it and the women. It paused as I continued closing in on it. It scurried to the right, and I cut it off again, cornering it. I knew the wisdom, don’t mess with a cornered animal.
But in this case, I was the cornered animal. A man left with no options. Facing the reality of losing my grandson and having to tell my daughter how I had failed.
The anger rose up inside me again, and I could taste the bitter bile on my tongue. Don’t mess with a cornered animal. Now I understood it from the other side.
The thing charged, and I swung for the fences. The ax blade sliced through the foremost limb, severing it cleanly. I tucked and rolled on the floor and under the landing of a steel staircase. avoiding the other seven attacking legs.
The beast rotated around to face the stairwell under which I was hiding. The thing limped in a circle, missing a step as it did. Thick green goo dripped from the open wound of the severed limb splattering on the floor beneath with each viscous drop.
I was trapped.
The thing inched side to side, craning its head. It was pondering. Looking for a weakness. A way to get at me.
The steady hum of the engine room was broken by a clattering sound from behind the spider. The creature rotated clumsily, agility suffering from the missing leg.
Jules must have thrown something to distract it. I took the opening and crawled out from under the landing. I came out swinging and took two legs at once. Clean.
Two new fountains of green goo ran out of the newly severed legs, as I positioned myself once again between the beast and the women.
The spider was limping heavily now, but moving with purpose, toward the far wall. Was it retreating?
“Thanks for the help, Jules,” I shouted out, never losing sight of the beast. “But just stay back. I’ve got this.”
“It didn’t look like you had it,” a soft voice came from behind the wall. Jules could be a smartass in just about any situation. That was one of her superpowers.
There was something decidedly intentional about the way the spider had moved to the far wall, toward a bank of levers. The thing struggled with only five legs, leaving a trail of green blood behind it.
The spider had one leg up on the wall, above the bank of levers. Its four other legs were on the ground, slipping in the green goo, trying to gain purchase.
As I stepped forward, the lever depressed, and I was nearly knocked over by a jet of steam that vented out from a release valve on the wall near me.
Pain surged through me from the impact. The steam slowly enveloped the area around me, filling the room. I could not see. The world around me transformed into a cloud of white mist. The ax. Where was the ax?
I scurried on the floor crawling, not sure in which direction to go.
The hiss of spewing steam could not drown out the incessant clicking and tapping. The thing was on the move.
I migrated outward on my knees in concentric circles, sure the ax must have landed close by, pawing frantically in each direction.
The tapping of spider legs was louder. And closer.
“Brock! Where are you?”
“Stay back, Jules!”
My palms wandered on the cold floor another few seconds before I recognized the warm texture of carved hickory. The throat of an ax handle was in my grasp, and I tightened my grip around it.
I stood in a steam cloud, wielding the weapon high like a home run hitter, and thinking about what had just happened. This thing was intelligent. It could strategize, outmaneuver. The game had changed.
There were only two ways to play this. I could try a cerebral approach and attempt to match his intellect.
I chose the other way. Rampage.
I started swinging. The ax whistled as it cut through the steam, momentarily clearing sightlines. Glimpses of the room appeared and then dissolved into clouds again with each swing.
Through a clearing I saw movement, and then pounced.
With one wild swing, my blade sliced through the air, and I felt the satisfying resistance of contact with something in the middle of my swing. I nicked it.
A blood-curdling scream came from that direction. A girl.
“Brock!” she shouted. “It’s me.”
Jules.
The jet of steam went silent.
“It’s gone,” Jules said as the smoke began to clear. I choked up on the ax, holding it near the business end with one hand, and began fanning the steam with the broadside of the ax head, creating a clearing. A faint red mohawk began to emerge. After a moment the entire room had cleared.
Katiana was on the far wall at the bank of levers, adjusting them.
“That will do it.” Her accent was sharp. “It is gone.”
I looked around, still in my fighting stance, uncertain. But it appeared to be true. The thing had retreated.
I was feeling a little better. Something about releasing that rage had been cathartic for me.
“We get children now?” Katiana asked. Or was she telling me?
“Hell yes,” I said with renewed confidence. I wasn’t giving up on them, not yet. “You can bet your sweet ass, we get children now!”
Jules’ eyebrows went high. She slowly nodded at the language, and was either surprised, or impressed, or both.
“Okay. We get children now,” Jules sai
d, mocking the broken English and shrugged her shoulders.
37
Katiana was moving fast in front of me, taking twists and turns. Jules followed close behind me. I was starting to get lost. This place was a labyrinth. The creaking of metal walkways under our feet cut through the low hum of the bowels.
Katiana turned, sprinting up a flight of stairs and through a door. The sign read: Mess Deck. It was getting hard to keep up with her. She was a physically fit specimen of a woman and running with an ax in my hand wasn’t making it any easier. We negotiated through a series of dining tables, to the far end of the room.
We stopped at the door to the galley, and Katiana put her hand on the latch.
“Wait,” I said. “Those things.” I put my head up to the square window in the kitchen door and peered through. The kitchen was dimly lit. I scanned the area, but there was nothing of note in view.
“Jules,” I said, looking back behind me, but no one was there. The mess deck was empty, except for Katiana and me. “Where’d she go?” I asked Katiana, half asking myself.
“Thought she was behind you,” Katiana said.
I let my eyes close, and I exhaled from the exhaustion. I just needed ten seconds of rest, before dealing with the next catastrophe. What else could go wrong?
One thing at a time. I’d have to deal with the Jules situation later. More pressing matters were at hand. I turned back to the kitchen and opened the door, stepping inside. I led with the ax. The room was silent and still.
“Monsieur Brock,” Katiana said quietly. “Be careful.”
I met her eye and nodded before turning back to the room, examining it. No kids. No blood. No nothing. This was disappointing, but it was a good sign.
“Finn,” I said, trying my voice out.
A crash came from somewhere in the room. I jerked my head, trying to pinpoint the location. Katiana inhaled sharply and her arms lassoed tight around me. The warmth of her body heat radiated against me.
