Salticidae (25 page)

***

“I hate Africa!” Derek dove into the water, swimming for the other side. He came up with a mouthful of water. “I mean I really hate it. Hate it more than sardines. Hate it more than my ex mother-in-law. Hate it more than photo editors.” He kept up this litany as he swam.

Jack was almost a
lready across, as was Banga. Beyond them, running through the clearing ahead, was a man and woman who’d come racing from the darkness of the trees.

“This whole fucking place is just wrong!” He swam as fast as he could,
spitting bracken from his mouth as he cursed.

“Shut up and swim, idiot. Hurry!” Jack extended his hand, waiting for Derek to take it.
“Grab it!”

Banga appeared beside Jack, his hand extended as well. “Swim!” the guide yelled.

Something long and hairy hit Derek in the back, and the look on Jack’s face said it all. One of the spiders was right on top of him! He reached up for the journalist’s hand, found it, felt himself being yanked out from under the beast and onto the river bank.

An
orange flash of muzzle fire caught his eye from the truck, and he felt the beast behind him ease up, fall back into the water.

“
Thank God the psychos here all have guns,” Jack said.

“It
’s shot?”

“It’s dead but it has some seriously fucking allegiant friends.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen them. I told you about Egypt, right?”

“Not now, man. They’re into the water. Let’s haul ass.”

The sound of multi-legged splashing filled the river behind Derek. “Don’t need to tell me twice, dude. C’mon, Banga, you too.”

The guide took off running, leaving Derek and Jack in the dust.

“Fucker is fast,” Jack said.

“Grew
up in Africa. Can you blame him?”

All three men raced into the razor grass, making a bee-line for the vehicles
as the spiders began to jump out of the water onto dry land.

***

These boys are weak, thought the Skeleton Man as he fired at the onslaught of monsters. In their terrified state, the Lost Boys fired wildly and missed most of the targets. And now the woman and man were waving at them, pleading for help, for sanctuary. He could not give a care about them either way, but the woman would at least make for a fun time. He had never raped a white woman, the opportunity had never presented itself, but it would surely be his first priority when they got out of this mess.

“Help!” she yelled, her wet clothes sticking to her body.

The Skeleton Man aimed, fired a round past her ear, saw it hit home in one of the spiders racing out of the river. He fired again, hit the beast in the eyes, yellow goo spouting from them. More were emerging from the trees like giant oil drops, unfolding into a massive balls of legs and eyes and sprinting toward the running prey.

The woman and the man hit the Jeep.

He swung his gun at their heads. “Who are you?”

“Please just help us. D
rive us out of here. I’ll pay you!”

So, he thought, she has money, likely South African by her accent. If he were a greedier man he could ransom
her after having his way with her body. But he had no mind for schemes that drew the attention of the affluent white world. Kidnapping was too much of a pain to carry out when your quarry’s family could actually pay to send in mercenaries. Too bad, he would have made her scream.

“Get in the back,” he told them.
He would figure out how to use them when this was done.

As they climbed in to the back, he saw the next group of men advancing. “
Mon Dieu. Today it seems we are a refugee camp.”

His driver did not laugh, too busy firing into the coming wave of arachnids. 

From their left, out of the thick trees came an army of the beasts, sprinting toward the truck on long stampeding legs. The boys fired their machine guns, spitting bullets through the soft underbellies of the spiders, but the spiders’ momentum carried them forward and they crashed into the side of truck, knocking it on its side. The boys fell out of the back and rolled into the grass. More spiders, some wounded, some unscathed, scuttled onto the overturned truck and jumped on the young men, ignoring the cracks of gunfire as they sank their fangs into the boys’ faces and torso. Their young screams of abject terror were a testament to their true ages.

***

Banga was the first to reach the Jeep, sliding to a stop as he saw the bloody feast taking place at the truck behind it. The white woman was trying to climb into the back of the vehicle as the man in the beret smiled amusedly at the chaos around him. Jack reached the front of the vehicle and braced himself against the hood. “This isn’t going to work,” Jack said to no one in particular. There was no way seven people would fit in the Jeep. That it was an open-topped Jeep only made the situation more futile.

The woman waved him forward. “Get i
n or run away, but don’t stand there like a bloody moegoe.”

Derek and Banga threw themselves
in the Jeep, crushed in beside the woman and other men. Jack remained still, catching the eye of the man in the beret, noticing how everything about the man screamed rebel psychopath. Who else was egotistical enough to wield gold-plated handguns?

“We’re American,” he said, almost regretting it immediately. It was no privileged information that Americans were largely disliked
by people such as this. But he hoped the man would take it as a consideration of a possible reward if he could get them out of here. It was worth a shot, anyway.

“Of course,” the man replied.
“It would be just my trial to choose the fate of an American. An American in my land.” He let the words linger for a second, raised his gun and aimed it at Jack’s chest, then lifted it and shot a round over Jack’s shoulder. Jack didn’t need to turn to see the giant spider behind him get hit, he could see it reflected in the man’s sunglasses.

In the back of the Jeep, Derek was trying to make room for the woman, who was arguing with him about space.
We’re not going to be able to get out of here, Jack realized. More spiders advanced on the screaming boys just mere feet away. In the Militia man’s sunglasses, the jungle scurried with black, hairy nightmares hopscotching their way forward.

They were surrounded.

The driver started the Jeep and pulled forward, threatening to run Jack over.

“Jack,
for fucks’ sake get in the damn Jeep already!” Derek was frantically waving for him to get in. “Or I’ll fucking kill you. Let’s go.”

The Jeep kicked forward
again. Jack rounded it, grabbed the roll bar and hauled himself in, sat on the large Black man’s lap. He noted the thick yellow scar on the man’s chin and wondered if everyone in this country had a war story. The man looked large enough to snap him in two.

“I’m Jack,” he said. Why? Who knew. Nerves.

“You can plan the marriage later,” the woman said. “Just shut up and let’s go!”

The Jeep barreled forward and then turned in a sharp one-eighty, spitting up clods of wet mud. The man in the Beret now focused his aim on the spiders devouring the boys, but he did not shoot, merely watching in fascination as the spiders dissolved the innards of their prey.

Shoot them, Jack prayed. While they’re preoccupied and indifferent to us. Just shoot them already.

Wham!

A brown and orange striped spider slammed into the Jeep like a tank, lifting it up, barreling it over onto its side. Hairy legs wrapped over it, and in Jack’s tumbling vision all he saw were monsters engulfing everyone around him.

At least shoot this one, he thought, as he felt himself go flying out of the seat and hit the razor grass. All he heard next was screaming.

***

The ground came up out of nowhere and slammed into Janet’s ribs. What was already a searing pain turned into a dizzy wave of agony that had her fighting for consciousness. Something heavy and hairy stepped on her neck and continued past her. The ground rumbled with shockwaves of advancing spiders. She opened her eyes and saw the driver lying next to her, his hand swinging his gun around to fire at something. But he was
attacked by a blur of blackness that drove him from her sight, his screams trailing in his wake.

The gun lay where he’d been. She reached for it, swung it just as a shadow of twitching palps came down on top of her.
Bang bang bang!
She fired the remaining bullets, felt hot liquid splash onto her face. The beast fell on top of her, pinning her to the ground.

More than th
e weight of the thing, it was the hairs stabbing into her that caused her to yelp in pain. It felt like being wrapped up in a thorn bush, itching and lacerating her at the same time. The more she struggled the more the hairs irritated her.

“Ma’am.” A hand came in and yanked her free, and she found herself being hauled upright by Gellis.
He kicked the spider over onto its back and she shivered as its legs bent inward in death.

She could barely take in the scene around her. The driver being feasted on just to her right, the spider so close she could jump ont
o its back if she wanted. The man in the beret standing defiantly beside the overturned Jeep, firing his twin pistols as two more speeding spiders charged at them. He dropped them both and reloaded. The one called Jack running toward the capsized truck.

What the hell was he doing? He was running right into the
circle of madness.

The other American was suddenly
beside her. “You okay?”

“I’d be better if there were
more bullets in this gun. What the bloody hell is your friend doing?”

“Being an idiot, is my guess. Or, going for those
machine guns in those dead boys’ hands. Lookout!”

Janet spun, ducked just as spider shot over their heads. Gellis stepped in front of her as the spider landed, spun back and reared up. He thrust the backpack out toward her, spoke over his shoulder, “Run. Now!”

With that, he stepped forward and raised his arms above his head. 

Janet grabbed the backpack and raced after Jack. The other American followed. Behind her, she heard Gellis grunt and yell.

***

Jack had nothing to lose, Derek knew, but even so, running into the fray like this was going to be a p
ainful suicide. Why the hell he was joining him was the stranger question.

He found Jack bent over the corpse of a boy no older than twelve, prying the Kalashnikov from
his small, dead hands. Just feet away from them spiders were dragging the bodies away for further feeding.

“Know how to shoot one of these?
” Jack asked.

Derek shook his head no. “I shoot photos, man, not
guns.” He looked at the woman beside him. “You?”

She reached out and took the gun. “Like this.” She racked the slide, spun around
and aimed where Gellis had last been standing.

Derek followed her line of sight,
saw that both the large black man and the spider that had been rearing up in front of him were nowhere to be seen. That did not bode well. He saw the subtle sadness in her eyes, couldn’t find any words to console her.

“Shit,” she said. With a pivot, she aimed at another advancing spider, pulled the trigger. The machine gun barked to life, so loud Derek put his hands over his ears. The spider
’s face ripped open to reveal a stuffing of mushy pulp beneath its eyes. It fell dead in mid run and slid to within a few feet of them.

She looked at him. “Like that.” She swiveled and trained the reticule on more of the creatures.

“Thanks, teach,” Derek said, finding his own gun. Jack had one now as well. They each racked the slide and braced the stocks against their shoulders like this woman was doing. Who was she, he wondered, that she was so sure of herself and trained in heavy weaponry? Someone had made her this way, that was for sure.

“Up,” she said. “They’re coming from everywhere. Stand together and only fire single rounds. Conserve the ammo.”

“Who are you, Rambo’s long lost sister?”

“I travel with security a lot. You pick things up after a while.”

All three stood up, backs touching, guns trained outward to attack from three hundred and sixty degrees.

The sight of the advancing arachnids made Derek’s heart sink. There were just too many of them coming from all directions. “Jack, you got a plan?”

“I’m thinking we go back in time. Turn down this job and become florists.”

“You two are funny,” the woman said. She was not amused.

“Didn’t get your name, miss.” Derek voice was almost lost in his heaving, fearful breaths.

“What’s it matter?”

“If I’m gonna die here with you I want to know who I’m dying with.”