by Peter Fang
“What exactly did you use as bait?” Maria asked, standing a little closer to the antique with curiosity.
“It’s homemade, but it should be safe to humans and pets as long as you don’t eat it or rub it in your eyes. It should kill the critter in a few hours after it takes the bait. I put Vaseline around the edges so it can’t climb back into the keyhole. You should see dead crickets in the container tomorrow morning. Then you can safely remove it and throw it away. Make sure you wash your hands afterwards. If you are paranoid about it, you can wipe the keyhole down with soap and water.”
“Thanks. So how much is this going to cost?” Maria bent down to check the trap to make sure there were no gaps. “Don’t laugh, but I have to live with this, so I want to be sure.”
“Oh, this is no laughing matter, believe me. I would do the same if I were you.” Tripper made room for Maria to check out his trap.
Maria waved her hand instead. “That’s all right, I trust that you did what you could. So, how much is your visit?”
“No worries. I owe Earl favors, so this one is on me.” Tripper smiled and reached out to help Maria to get back up.
Tripper chuckled. “That’s too bad that you don't love critters. I collect creatures of all kinds. I have five Tarantulas, a Brazilian wandering spider, a trapdoor spider and a black widow. I have roaches too, but they are just feeders, except for my LBJ and Nixon––two of my hissing roaches.”
“You name roaches after past presidents?” Maria smiled inside but was not sure why she found it funny.
“Oh, yeah, it’s a little piece of my memory from the Vietnam War.” Tripper showed his skull tattoo on his arms with pride. “Earl and I were both from the Army back in the day. When he called me about your situation, I was hoping you had some kind of spider problem. I’m looking for a huntsman spider to add to my collection, but those are rare around here. I could never forget the green one I saw back in Vietnam. It was so beautiful, and yet…so deadly.” His eyes drifted into the past, trying to recall the details of that day. “It was the night before Halloween. Our platoon was pinned down one day by a score of Charlies. Lucky for us, we were around an abandoned temple, so we could take cover behind rocks and crevices. Bullets were flying around us, and a grenade landed between Leon and me. God bless Leon’s soul—he jumped on the grenade and the explosion knocked me unconscious. I thought we were all going to die, but when I came to, the forest around us was eerily quiet. My platoon leader said during the night, they heard Charlies screaming and dying. Most of them soon abandoned their posts and left the scene. We searched the area in the morning and found large tunnels in the ground. We first thought they were fox holes made by Charlies, but they looked fresh, and the tracks were covered in blood and leftover body parts. Then the weirdest thing happened…”
“What?” Maria felt strangely attracted by Tripper’s story.
“There was a farmer and his wife walking through the forest nearby. We interrogated them, but no matter how hard we tried to break him and his wife, they did not reveal a single word. We were convinced that they were spies and wanted to execute them on the spot, but scores of green spiders fell from the nearby trees. I remember they were large, green huntsman spiders the size of my palm. They bit our platoon leader all over his face, and he didn’t survive.
“What happened to the farmer and his wife?”
“No one saw how they got away during the commotion, but there was no trace of them––they simply vanished right in front of us. Soon, rumors spread in the platoon that the abandoned temple must have been cursed. Even though none of us wanted to admit we were scared of the superstition, something killed those Charlies, and we were not going to stick around to find out what it was. We left the place as soon as we could.”
Maria glanced over at the sewing machine and noticed the trap box was loose. “Hey, looks like you didn’t tape it down tight enough.”
Tripper scratched his head. “What? I taped it down good; I don’t get it.” He walked over and bent down to inspect the trap box; sure enough, one side of the trap box was unhinged. The tape was peeled off from the cabinet. There was a fleeting moment where Tripper thought he saw something white crawl out of the keyhole. He blinked his eyes, though, and it was gone.
“Did you see…” Tripper paused halfway, then laughed and shook his head. “I’m working too hard, starting to see things. I’ll fix this and it will not come loose again.” He got down beneath it again and put more tape around the trap box. When he was done, he got up and burped. “Nothing is going to get out of this now.” As he walked out of the door, he scratched his neck and swore. “I think I saw some mosquitoes here. Keep an eye out for standing water.”
After Tripper left, Maria ran into Ansen near the elevator with Joey. “Oh, there you are. How nice for you to join us? You missed all of the fun!”
Ansen smiled thinly. “I’m sorry; there was a phone call. It was my buddy Jay. We were planning for the golf competition. How did the bug guy go?”
“He didn’t do much, just put a trap near the keyhole. He checked out the antique and didn’t see any signs of roaches, rodents, or spiders infestation.”
Maria led Ansen and Joey to the garage and pointed at the trap box. Joey refused to get close, and he started to bark.
“Hey, calm down. What’s the matter with you?” Maria yanked on Joey's collar.
“Looks like he doesn’t enjoy your antique.” Ansen chuckled.
Moments later, Joey’s barking suddenly stopped; then he tipped his head sideways and wagged his tail while whimpering.
Ansen stood up, wiped his hands, and paced towards the entrance.
“Joey smells the bugs inside. Perhaps the bugs are trying to come out and eat, so we’d better leave it alone.”
Maria shook Joey out of a trance. “Come on, boy, you will have time later to sniff the dead bugs.”
Tripper was in his van, humming a popular tune on the radio and on his way home when he felt dizzy. The bite on his neck now was throbbing with pain. Having collected many bugs and having been bitten by all kinds in his life, he knew what a mosquito bite was, and the bite on his neck was not a mosquito bite. It felt more like a spider bite. He’d even been bitten by a black widow once, but this one felt much worse; besides the pain and dizziness, all of his nerve endings were on fire. He tried to stop the van, but his muscles cramped up. Soon, he went into a spasm and passed out. His right calf tightened and forced his foot down on the gas pedal. His van plowed forward and hit a passenger car in front, then veered off to the left and barely missed an SUV. The van slipped into the center lane. Oncoming cars were honking their horns and avoiding him. Tripper awoke from the noise and tried to steer with his arms, but they didn’t move. He frantically looked out the windshield and saw the one thing he didn’t expect to see—a green huntsman spider. The last thing he heard was a large semi blaring its horn as it hit its air brake.
“Ah, shit! Life is a bug’s asshole!”
The semi smashed into the van’s front end and disintegrated it into thousands of pieces. The van was knocked backward like a crushed tin can, then tumbled sideways and ended up on its back, like the bugs Tripper killed. Moments later, it burst into flames.
15
Riker, Move
After the exterminator’s visit, Maria and Ansen went back to their apartment. Maria turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. They saw the breaking news of a five-car fatal pile-up on the nearby freeway. Among the wreckage was a head-on collision between a van and a semi. The van’s company name was clearly visible from the news helicopter’s video camera.
“Wait—is that the van from the bug guy, Tripper?” Maria first flipped away from the channel, then switched back with the remote.
The TV crew showed a helicopter aerial shot of the accident. Tripper's van was clearly visible as the helicopter zoomed in on the scene. The catchy sign, Bugs Bugging You? Call Tripper the Trapper, stood out in the video.
“We were just talking t
o him this afternoon, and now he’s dead?” Maria shuffled her feet towards the nearby couch as she felt a little dizzy, and she sat down. Her eyes stared blankly at the TV, searching for a sense of reason.
Ansen sighed. “That’s life; you never know when your time is up, do you?” Ansen finally whispered. “You have to make the best of the time you’ve got left. Leave nothing to regrets.”
Maria didn’t really hear Ansen but nodded absently. Finally, she whispered, “You don’t think staying with me is going to be a regret for you, is it?”
Ansen gave her a look and sat down. “Why would you say that?”
Maria shrugged. “I don’t know. This just made me think about us. Lately, you’ve seemed a little distant and pre-occupied with something.”
Ansen slowly stood up and replied, deadpan, “All right, you got me. I always have doubts about our relationship, so I’m dating some chick behind your back. Truthfully, I love an open relationship.”
Maria squinted at Ansen with faux anger. She wanted to poke more but went to the kitchen counter. She picked up the material from the estate manager to look for clues. If there were any clues to this mystery, perhaps she could find them in the pictures and the letters. She read through the letters again and paused at a passage in a letter to his wife. The passage was written on June 3, 1942:
Sorry about our loss; we will always love her. She will always be in our heart.
Heart is where the soul is and hers will forever live in our hearts.
I have done what was asked, and now we will see her return to us.
Maria flipped through some other letters and then found another passage that was penned exactly a year later:
It granted my wishes, but I had to sacrifice so much. It speaks to me in my dreams, and it lives off the pain of others. Was it worth it? I don’t know, but I know I could see her every day, and perhaps for an eternity. I will give until I can no more.
She went back and looked at the old pictures with Manfred and his wife in her big white feathery hat. On the back of the picture, there was that beautiful handwriting again. Something bothered her when she looked at the handwriting; then it occurred to her that the handwriting was different than the handwriting in the letters she was reading. Every letter she looked at was penned by the same person, judging by the letter’s characteristics, and she assumed it was by Manfred. The handwriting was not artistic or perfect as the one on the back of the pictures. Someone else wrote those captions on the back of the letters, not Manfred. But who?
She flipped through the rest of the photos, until she came across a picture of a white garden spider with an iridescent abdomen. The spider was in the middle of an intricate web, and it looked so lively. This picture was a bit out of place from the rest of the photos. She looked closer and realized the picture she was looking at was actually a drawing. A meticulously drawn picture with very fine black lines. It reminded her of the perfect handwritings on the back of the photos. Mesmerized by the picture, her eyes unconsciously followed the contours of the spider and the chandelier-like web. The more she traced through the contours, the more she was awake and felt a surge of energy within her. It was like magic.
In the next room, Joey barked incessantly, and scratched at the wooden floor.
“Joey, stop it!” Maria grabbed Joey’s collar.
Startled, Joey bit her hand. Maria screamed.
Shocked by the scream, Joey lay down on the floor submissively.
“Dammit, Joey!” Maria backed away from Joey. She went to the kitchen faucet and let warm water run over the wound. She checked the wound and saw that there was a row of cuts on her hand. This may need stitches.
Even against the big Maine Coon, Joey was more of a defender than an aggressor, but something was different about him. She looked down at Joey and saw him wagging his tail with a guilty look on his face.
“What were you barking at? Was it the cat?” Maria peeked outside the window and saw the Maine Coon sitting on top of the fence, staring back at her. “Damn cat! Why doesn’t the owner lock him up?”
Maria was terrified of cats, especially that cat. Deep inside her consciousness, she wished the cat would die, but time and again, she buried that thought. Now, she was experiencing that anger again.
She went to the hospital that afternoon to get her hand checked. She came back after receiving a few minor stitches and antibiotics medicine. She walked into the apartment but didn’t see Joey around. After dropping her medicine on the counter and hanging her wind breaker coat in the closet, she found that Joey was locked outside on the balcony. Joey was looking back at her, wagging his tail, but he did not bark or whimper like he used to. Ansen walked out from the bedroom and hugged her tightly in his arm with a consoling squeeze.
“How are you? Let me see your hand.” He gently raised her hand inside of his and turned it around to see the stitches.
“No big deal; I’m fine. I’d like to get Joey back in here if you don’t mind. It’s going to rain soon.” Maria walked over to the balcony door. “It was just an accident. I grabbed Joey and surprised him when he was in the moment.”
Ansen hesitated but didn’t stop her.
Maria opened the screen door. “Come on, Joey. I know you didn’t mean to do that.” Maria held on to Joey's collar and led him in. Joey continued to wag his tail as he licked her hand. Maria held her hands around Joey’s face and smiled at him. “It’s okay; we’re all good.” But something she saw in his expression stopped her cold.
Ansen noticed the look on Maria’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“Look, Joey's pupils are dilated. His nose is also very wet, and something’s dripping out––-something’s wrong.”
Ansen leaped over a basket of magazines to look at Joey. He squinted his eyes to do a quick survey of the panting Joey. “Are you sure? He’s probably just too excited to see you back. All the guilt he feels probably gives him this reaction.”
Maria looked Joey over and checked to see if there was anything else wrong with him. She even checked his temperature, but there were no other warning signs.
“Look, you need to get some rest. I’ll cook tonight. Now go take a shower, put your feet up, and enjoy a good book. Just relax. Joey is obviously very agitated every time that cat is nearby, so I have checked around and found out that the cat has been abandoned.”
“What?” Maria stood up and gasped. “That evil thing’s going to come to our porch every day and stalk me!”
“Don’t worry.” Ansen put a hand on her shoulder. “I have called the building manager to track down its owner. In the meantime, they made an appointment with the animal control unit here, so if the people don’t come claim the cat, they will catch her and take it away.”
“I doubt they will catch her. She’s too shrewd, and there are plenty of small critters around this old building to keep her alive.”
“Regardless, I will take Joey in for a check-up,” Maria said impatiently.
“Okay, let’s make an appointment with Dr. Liu.” Ansen felt his phone buzzing in his shirt, so he checked the notification. He raised his fist and knocked his forehead. “Oh, shit, I completely spaced out that there’s a golf game today with my buddies.” He looked at Maria apologetically but said nothing.
“No worries. I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself. Go out with your buddies.”
“You sure?” Ansen was a little surprised by Maria’s offer.
Maria rolled her eyes. “Please, go. I’m fine.”
After Ansen left, it struck Maria that she was just observing Joey lying on the sofa and listening to the whimpering in his dream. Her mind drifted back to the concerns on her mind—the strange but familiar antique that was squatting in the garage. She decided to go back down to the garage to check on the bug trap.
I have a good feeling this time that the bug is caught. She brought a flashlight with her and went downstairs.
Inside the garage, she clicked on the flashlight and saw the antique sewing machine sitting in
the corner, not where it used to be.
“Did someone move it?” She got closer to the cabinet and bent down to light up the trap with her flashlight.
Something was moving its legs inside the box when the light hit.
Maria felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Come on, be brave! She took one step forward and tried to see what was inside. A bug was on its back, struggling; its legs flicked in the air, trying to right itself.
She stood mesmerized, not sure what to do next. Finally, she took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m taking it off and going to cover it up.” With infinite care, she peeled off the tape around the trap box; to her relief, the bug appeared to be dead. She held her breath as she lowered the box and looked inside. It was an oddly looking spider, but with wings around the back. She blew air over the bug to see if it was dead.
The bug’s legs suddenly twitched and it flipped around inside the box. Maria screamed and dropped the box. She jumped back and searched the bug with her flashlight. The box was near the base of the cabinet and it was lying on its side, but the bug was gone. Maria backed away until she bumped into their car. Then she felt something prickly on the back of her heel; she looked down and saw the bug crawling up her leg. She panicked and screamed.
Maria woke up from her dream. She sat up and knocked the novel to the ground. Frantically, she looked around and saw Joey looking back at her inquisitively. Shit, bad dream. Her heart pounded, and the back of her t-shirt was soaked. She got up and went upstairs to the bathroom and got into the shower. As the hot water drenched her hair and covered her body, images of the spider-like creature in her dream flashed back into her mind. It looked so real. Then the images of the intricate spider web from the drawing appeared in her head. There was that tingling sensation in her head again––-like tiny tendrils extending inside of her skull, touching every synapse. It was an odd, scary feeling; it reminded her of that one time she chewed into a live shrimp, its legs kicking against her tongue, a total mixture of shock, flavor, and enjoyment, yes…enjoyment. She knew it was a dream, but she felt like she needed to go downstairs and check out the antique in person to make sure. She was afraid of bugs, but she was more afraid of not knowing if there was a bug like the one in the dream. She dried herself off, put on a clean set of clothes, brought the flashlight, and Joey, and then went downstairs.