Salticidae (19 page)

Janet remembered Gellis’
other comment about his wife, before they’d rappelled down the pit. He’d not wanted to talk about her, but it was clear there was something going on.

Why do
I even care, she wondered. This man is a dirty brute.

No, he’s not. Just ask him

“What’s wrong with your wife?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know, you said that last time. But I’m your employer and I’m ordering you to tell me. What’s the deal?”

“I do no
t remember this as part of the job, madam.”

“It is now. Look, Antoine, I’m being very serious. I…I…think I can help you. I can at least get you out of Africa. Just tell m
e what’s up?”

“Why do you really care to help me?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Probably because despite me treating you like shit since day one, you’ve saved my ass a hundred times in the last few hours. So indulge me, okay? Before I stop caring.”

Gellis took a deep breath. Even in the darkness
of the cave Janet could feel his eyes sinking.

“She was raped,” he said.

Janet swallowed. Rape was not uncommon in the DRC. Militant factions made it a common practice for humiliating the tribes and instilling fear. But like her father had taught her, it wasn’t her business to save the world.

But then her father was just
a man. And there are few things that women feel a universal union over like fear of rape. She didn’t know Gellis’ wife, but she knew the lot all women had been handed in life when it came to the power struggle between men and women. Such a heinous act destroyed millions of women every year.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“She was gang raped a month before we were married. I was out working. She had taken a bicycle to the next town to trade. Militia trucks ran her off the road. The men took her right there, many of them, then the older boys had her. They carved their names in her back. Even now she will not let me see her without a shirt on.”

Janet felt chills run up her spine. How horrible it must be for Antoine’s wife, to know that she carries those scars literally on her hide, as if she’d been branded.

“I went to look for the men,” Gellis continued, “but they were gone and all the witnesses refused to speak. Now she does not like to leave our home.”

“I’m sorry.” Saying it again didn’t make Janet feel any better.

“It is not your problem, madam. It is mine.”

“Rape is everyone’s problem.”

“I thank you for your words, but you do not know the Africa I know. There are no police willing to climb into the mountains and seek the men who did this. And so the fighting continues and people die and drugs are sold and mines are stripped. It is the way.”

“And I’m the enemy, too? Is that it?” Suddenly, Janet fo
und herself on the defensive again. But this time, she felt regret and shame, because she didn’t need to be told that her father’s bribes to the local militias fed their caches of weapons and gave them more power to terrorize tribes like Antoine’s.

“Not the enemy. No. A part of our true…I forget the word. Ah yes, the true economy.”

There was a skittering noise somewhere in the darkness. The sound of multiple legs creeping over rocks and mineral deposits.

Janet felt Gellis’
giant hand grasp her elbow. Part of her wanted to scream, her mind reverting back to her fear of this massive man, but part of her remembered his gentle laugh. Part of her was beginning to understand.

“Let’s go. Quickly.” He hauled her up
, his breath in her ear. “Move quietly, lifting your feet, not shuffling them. We must be far enough down the mountain now. We should see the jungle floor soon.”

The skittering rose in volume. Something was in the passage with them, something stalking them.

Janet felt pebbles fall into her hair.

Dear God, she thought, it’s right above our heads!

Fighting back the need to scream, she took a step, then another. She could feel Gellis pressed up against her back. Every time she stepped, more pebbles fell into her hair. The thing above them was following, keeping time with them. Its mandible clicked and clacked like twigs snapping.

“Keep going,” Gellis whispered.

“It’s right above—”

“I know. Keep moving. There is not enough room for it to get us both so it is waiting.”

“Are you a spider expert all of a sudden?”

“No, madam.”

“What if we just stop? If it can’t get down to us then why move?”

“Stay here forever and starve? Besides, it would eventually find a way. That is how a predator is.”

Janet continued to move. With every footfall her heartbeat raced faster, waiting for the thing above to jump down and devour her. The passage grew even tighter, and not for the first time since entering this damn series of caves she prayed for it not to close up entirely.

She pressed
herself flat against the wall to squeeze by a jutting rock formation, and as she did she felt something like a stick with thorns tap her on the head. Twice. Three times.

Oh my God it’s touching me!
she realized. It’s right above me and touching my head!

The spider’s foreleg came down and wrapped gently around her shoulder, like someone laying a scarf o
n her. The rough hairs scratched her chin.

Janet lost it. She screamed and ran for all she was worth. She heard the spider launch itself after her, heard it scuttling furiously after her, the clickety clack of its legs gripping the walls to stay above her. The passage
closed in, tearing the skin from her elbows as she flung herself into its grooves, feeling the hairs of the creature’s legs brushing against her every other second.

Then the passage widened, and she felt the beast’s legs scrabbling for her back.

Behind her Gellis roared, a bestial howl of rage that echoed down the passage like a wall of sound. There was an exhalation of hot air above her, and the creature’s legs all came down around her head. She fell into a crouch, jamming her knees into the rock walls and feeling them open in bloody fissures. The spider’s legs closed around her.

She could not stop
screaming. Her throat burned. She was trapped under the spider, and it was going to kill her. She was going to die and she knew it.

And then, with a heave, the massive spider fell down to the ground next to her, unmoving.

Gellis stepped over her and put himself between her and the creature. He put his arms around her, held her to his chest. “It is okay. It is dead. It is okay now.”

Janet found
herself suddenly gripping Gellis’ massive arms for protection. They engulfed her like tree trunks, keeping her safe.

“I killed
it, madam. Please stop screaming or you will attract more.”

Janet stared at the black shadow on the ground before her, the segmented legs of the spider angled inward in death. She could just barely make out the pearl of white silk poking out of the back of its abdomen. The whole thing was grotesque and unnatural.

There was goo on Gellis’ arm, a hot wetness seeping into her shirt.

“Is that blood
?”

Gellis whispered back, his deep voice steady yet cautious. “Yes, but not mine. The spider’s.”

The smell of the spider hit her full force now. Something sour, like rotting fruit, something that made her nostrils want to close up.

“It smells like garbage.”

“Yes, madam. I think they have come from somewhere far beneath the mountain, where they have been buried for a long, long time. The smell is like mud with rotting melon.” Gellis sniffed the air again, finally letting go of Janet, whose demeanor had calmed. “Bad meat as well.”

“
And we let them out. We blew this place up and shifted things around and they got out. But why so big? What the hell could they have been feeding on all this time?”

“Many things I am sure. Just because they never got out of the caves, doesn’t mean animals didn’t get in. This is Africa, madam. Plenty of bats, monkeys, snakes, rats, birds. Something lured them in
—”

“
The smell! That’s why they stink like garbage. Evolution gave them some kind of rotting fruit, decaying food smell that attracts prey.”

“I agree. It makes sense.”

“But now they’re free. If they could adapt to lure food into these caves then they’ll adapt out there in the wild to not have to rely on the smell. They’re too good at being hunters.”

“
Which is why, madam, we need to keep moving.”

Janet nodded, grabbed the rock walls over the spider and did her best to step over it without touching it. Her knee knocked into one of the thing’s legs and made it click, and her stomach tightened for a moment in fear. But then she was over it and Gellis was following. Her eyesight had adjusted as much as it could in here, which left everything still dark in shadow, but she could make out his frame.

“Hey, Antoine…”

He stopped, looking at her, wiped his arm off on his shirt. “Yes?”

“Thanks.”

***

The morning is too damp, Shumba thought. It is not hot yet but the air is sticky and wet. Today will be uncomfortable, if we even manage to stay alive.

He picked through the collection of berries in his hand and chose the one
s that were the juiciest. The sweet flavors tickled his tongue, the sugars in them made him feel more alert. Mostly, he just liked the way they quenched his thirst.

His father was talking to the remaining men, who had just come back from a scouting expedition. They gesticulated up into the trees and made spider puppets with their hands
, shook their heads in confusion. Shumba had feared they would not return to the camp after his father had asked them to check the surrounding jungle, but all the men were accounted for.

Now, his father st
rode over to him, scratched the long, gray stubble under his chin. He was still covered in mud. “We must go now, son. The Old Man is close, and we can reach it by noon. Are you done eating?”

“
Yes.” Shumba threw the berries on the ground. “Where are the spiders?”

“Everywhere, but to our eyes, they are nowhere. Many have moved off to
hunt, some wait hidden in webs. We must walk like we are ghosts, make no noise, not draw attention to ourselves. Like we are hunting.”

Only we are the hunted, Shumba thought.
“We are still not going home?”

“I thought we had this talk. We have a mission to finish, and you are a part of it. It is a man’s mission. Yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then
stand up. It is time to move.” Musa ringed his finger above his head and all the men gathered around him. Without any vocal sounds, he instructed the men to fan out and move in a diagonal line through the trees, keeping each other in sight.

Shumba took up his place in the middle of the formation, a good ten feet behind his father, and ten feet in front of the man behind him. The line moved steadily through the brush,
like a scythe through wheat, gently bending aside low branches and fronds without sound, slipping their feet over dry twigs, tolerating the morning insects fluttering around their heads.

Shumba looked up as he moved and saw a ceiling of sparkling white above him
. So much web, glistening with morning dew and last night’s rain. It twinkled and shimmered in a mesmerizing way. Beyond the sheets of web were the dark shadows of the treetops. Or maybe, just maybe, those shadows were the spiders themselves, resting in their web tunnels.

He
kept looking up every few seconds as he walked, just to be safe. To rule out possible illusions he began to utilize his other senses as well. The trees smelled and sounded like trees. That was a good thing.

It was a
half hour before the group came to the edge of the cliff again, having felt no signs of any predators following, and this time Shumba could see the Old Man just over the next set of hills. They were indeed very close. A rainbow arced in front of the mighty waterfall spilling from the crack in its middle. Were it not for the danger all around them Shumba would sit and stare at those colors all day. It was a majestic sight that spoke to his soul of freedom and God and the love he had for this land. How he wished to just swim in those bands of colors.

“Keep moving,” Musa ordered.

Shumba tore his gaze from the waterfall and fell in step again, paying attention to the trees, not the distant views.

T
he spiders were surely close, and if he didn’t stay aware, it would be his end.

Many minutes later,
Musa stopped short, put up his hand to halt everyone. The line stopped moving and waited for his next command, each man attuned to the growth around them. In the distance came a faint scream, a familiar word even to Shumba, who did not speak English. But he had heard this word from the white men who’d been to his village, especially when they tried to help harvest honey from nearby nests and found themselves pestered by the bees. It was a word the white man used when he was afraid.
Run!