“Who the hell are you guys?” said Perry. It was supposed to sound flippant, brazen, but his voice was thick with sleep and it came out as nothing more than a gravelly whisper. One of the men, the older looking one, stepped forwards and pulled some identification out of his pocket. Perry squinted at it and saw that the man was with the police.
“D.C.I. Gerald Thompson, D.C.I John Wells.”
Perry tried to put it all together is his fogged mind. He could never get any decent brain activity on the go when he had just woken up. He was terrible in the mornings. He had once spent ten minutes looking for his mobile phone when it had been cupped in the safety of his own hand the whole time.
“Sorry, why are you here?”
Thompson looked around him. Most of the other patients around him were either asleep or were wearing earphones. He still didn’t feel confident about talking near them in case one of them heard something.
“Any chance we could go somewhere a little more private?” said Thompson.
Perry frowned, a wall of defence was being quickly erected in his insides. The police? Why would the police want to talk to him? Did they think he did something to Katie?
Thompson must have picked up on it. “You’re not in any trouble Mr?”
“Williams, Perry Williams,” he answered automatically.
“Well, Mr Williams…”
“Perry will do,” he interrupted. He hated being called Mr. Williams with a passion.
“Perry,” Thompson corrected, “We just need to ask you some questions about some of the goings on this morning in your street.”
“Well, I work the night shift,” said Perry, looking over at Katie. “It’s a good thing I do or I might not have found her.”
“What happened?” said Thompson.
Perry pursed his mouth to speak, but then he also became aware of the fact that other people could possibly listen in. He knew he had nothing to hide, but he didn’t like other people knowing his business. He stood up out of his chair. “Let’s find that quiet room. I don’t want to be too long, I want to be here when Katie wakes up.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her Mr….Perry, I’ll come and get you if there’s any change,” said the unnamed doctor. Perry caught a glance at her name badge swinging from the hem of her dark blue top. It looked like it said Wilton…or Wilson….he couldn’t tell which from this distance. He nodded at her, “Thanks,” he said.
The doctor led them to the corridor which led out of the ward and showed them into one of the consulting rooms. She left them to it, closing the door behind her.
“You were saying?” said Wells as they all chose a seat.
“Yeah…er…I found her on the bathroom floor when I got home from work. I thought she had fallen out of the shower,” said Perry.
“Thought?” said Thompson.
“Yeah, but she already had her towel on. She only puts her towel on after she gets out. She never puts it on in the bath tub. She doesn’t like the bottom of the towel to get wet off the bath y’see. It’s cold when it touches her legs and she don’t like it,” said Perry.
“She had broken her leg pretty badly,” said Thompson.
“Christ, yes. I never seen a break as bad as that before. There was a piece of bone sticking out. I nearly puked.”
Thompson laughed convulsively. Perry frowned at him for a moment and then he joined in, leaning back in his chair and roaring his laughter. He felt some of the tension of this pretty lousy day lifting off him a little. Laughter felt good, even if it was a little inappropriate.
“I’m….sorry,” said Thompson, mopping his eyes with his handkerchief.
Perry waved it off. “It’s fine. If you don’t laugh on a day like today, you’ll go mad.”
“That’s the truth,” said Thompson.
“Do you have any idea was caused her to have this accident?” said Wells, getting them back on topic.
Perry shook his head. “I have no idea. I was hoping that she could tell us when she wakes up.”
There was a pregnant silence between them. Perry had an inkling that they were about to get to the point.
“Did you notice any unusual marks on her anywhere?” said Thompson.
Perry frowned, his bottom lip poked out in puzzlement. “What sort of marks?”
Thompson and Wells exchanged a look. It was subtle but Perry saw it. “Why don’t you just knock off the bullshit and get to the point, then I might be able to help you,” he said, a hint of irritation colouring his voice.
Thompson held up an apologetic hand, “I’m sorry, but what you have to understand is that what I’m about to tell you is a matter of upmost confidentiality. You mustn’t breathe a word of it to anybody until we have all the facts. Is that okay by you?”
Perry shrugged, “Sure it is.”
“Right. This morning, one of your neighbours Lilly Richmond?”
“Yeah, I know Lilly.”
“Her daughter died this morning,” said Thompson.
Perry felt a wash of shock blast over him. He knew Lilly alright, and he knew her lovely little girl. She had brought him a gift of Victoria sponge when he had first moved into the house. He had invited her and Lottie into the house to have a slice and a cup of tea with him whilst she told him all about the street he was moving into. He Liked Lilly. He liked the fact that she had done well for herself all on her own. He also liked the way that Lottie was a little bit rumbustious without being bad mannered and not one of those kids that hid behind their mother’s legs all the time. Yes, he got on well with both of them. The idea that Lottie had died was a foul notion in his mind, a disgusting, horrible injustice on every level.
“What happened?” he spluttered.
“Anaphylactic shock from, what we think, is a bite,” said Thompson.
“From what?” said Perry.
“We think….a spider.”
Perry jerked in his chair. That cold shock wave washed over him again. “I can see why you want to keep this quiet. Does this have anything to do with…?”
“Newtown? We don’t know. I really hope not. I don’t want to start speculating until we know for sure,” said Wells.
“Not long after Lottie Richmond died, we found the body of another resident. He lived at number eight…..”
“Boris?”
“I don’t know his name….”
“He lives in a shithole. He’s a hoarder. The stink from his house when the wind is blowing in the wrong direction is ungodly,” said Perry his top lip curled in disgust as he remembered the putrid wafts of Boris shit coming in through the windows.
“That’s the guy,” said Thompson.
“Boris Nelson, that’s his name. Christ, we complained to the council about him over and over again. They said they were going to do something, but they haven’t yet. He’s dead?”
Thompson nodded. “Fell down his stairs, broke his neck clean in half. He had a bite on his hand, the same bite as Lottie Richmond.”
Perry’s hand went to his forehead and wiped off a slick of sweat that had beaded there. “God almighty. That’s why you were asking about Katie? I haven’t seen any bites on her, but then again, I wasn’t looking for any. All I saw was that leg….” He trailed off, suddenly nauseous. He fought to keep it under control, his lips smacking and his throat working.
“Are you alright Perry?” said Thompson, concerned.
Perry held a hand up for a moment whilst he got himself under control again. “I’m fine,” he croaked. He was about to ask what would happen to her if she had been bitten but they were interrupted by a rap on the door. Thompson stood up and went over to the door. He opened it just enough to stick his head out. Doctor Wilson was there and she looked to Thompson like she had seen a ghost.
14
Doctor Lydia Ochre had just arrived home. It had been a long drive back to Hemmington City. The traffic was unusually bad for the time of day which was mostly caused by enhancement works to the ring road on the outskirts of the city. She had the window open
and the fans blowing cold air onto her the whole time she was driving but it didn’t seem to slow the sweat that was pouring down her face.
It’s a fever, you have a fever, her mind jabbered. It had been jabbering since she had left the hospital, telling her that she was being stupid for not saying anything and not getting some help whilst she still could. She reasoned to herself that the spider couldn’t have done her any permanent damage, it wasn’t big enough for a start. It was one tiny little bite on her wrist, that was all.
But it wasn’t all, far from it. The pin holes in her wrist were swollen and angry. The itching on the skin around it was almost unbearable. She forced herself with all the will in her body not to scratch at it. If it was infected then she didn’t want to risk spreading it around. She would disinfect itwhen she got home, and she would get some ice on it too. Then she was going on the internet to do her homework, just to see if it was possible that she was in any danger. If she was…..if she was….then she was going back to Layton General in an ambulance. That was her plan. If she wasn’t in any danger, then she was going to dress the injury, dose herself up with pain killers and then get herself an early night. Hell yes, she would sleep it right off, and then she would get up the next morning as right as rain, no problem ma’am.
But there was this horrible sweat that she had on her right now. It just wouldn’t stop. If anything, she was cold, her body was shivering in short convulsive waves. Then there was that horrible aching that dug deep into her joints. She wanted to sink into a red-hot bath full of bubbles. She began to imagine how it was going to feel, to sink into that wonderful, soothing water, feeling it enveloping her tired body. Oh, the ecstasy of it! Her skin began to tingle with anticipation. Soon, oh so very soon she told herself. The stationary traffic in front of her began to move again. She got the car in gear and set off. She felt a huge surge of relief that this time she made it through the temporary traffic lights and through the cone-lined road and passed the city limits. She could see the tower blocks rising up in the distance, that monstrosity of modern living that had become known as ‘Suicide Towers’ because of its legendary mortality rate. If you believed the urban legends, at least five people had ended their lives by hurling themselves off the roof of the building. Lydia knew that there had been at least one, a young man by the name of Richard Kane had gone hurtling passed her living room window whilst she was stood looking out over the city and contemplating the emotional and spiritual journey that she had been on in the last five years. She had been deep in thought, in almost a state of meditation when something large and dark and gone hurtling past the window heading downwards. She had jumped backwards letting out a surprised yell, wondering what the hell she had just seen. Had it been a large bird that had flown into the side of the building? She didn’t know. Perhaps she had imagined the whole thing, yes, that was more likely. She thought nothing more of it until she heard a chorus of sirens coming from below, and then it had been on the news. He apparently was trying to evade capture by the police for his little narcotic business when he had taken one giant leap for mankind on a permanent basis.
It took another ten minutes to get to the tower. She parked in her designated space, breathing a sigh of relief that nobody else had parked in her spot, which was what usually happened when she went on shift. She went to the outer door, pulled out her magnetic key and swiped it over the electronic lock. The door clacked open, allowing her to push her way inside. She called the lift and made her way up to her own little front door. There was a sweet, pungent smell of cannabis hanging in the air. There was something about that smell that comforted her. Perhaps it was the fact that the stoners were more likely to stay quiet and not roam the corridors and bellowing curses late at night like the alcoholics. Her clothes were wet with sweat and they felt horrible and clammy as they clung to her body. She let herself in, slammed the door behind her and turned the catch. She went straight into her bedroom where the duvet was still in the carelessly tangled jumble that she had left it in last night when she had got up for her shift. She stripped off all of her damp clothing, shivering despite the warmth inside the room. She grabbed her fluffy black dressing gown off the back of the door and wrapped it around herself. The feeling of the soft material against her clammy skin was absolutely divine after the sticky wetness of her sweated out clothing. She went through to the bathroom, jammed the plug into the hole and turned on the hot tap. She picked a bottle of her favourite lavender bubble bath and dribbled a cap full into the running water. The water didn’t run hot enough to warrant turning the cold tap on which also meant that it took a little while for the bath to fill sufficiently. The smell of the bubble bath began to rise with the steam of the hot water. When it struck her nose, the feelings of anxiety began to ebb away. She would be fine, she would be just fine.
She raised her hand up so she could have a look at the bite on her wrist. The skin around it was red and shiny with the swelling that had come up around it. The itching all around the site was incredible. Her hand came up in an automatic reaction to scratch at the injury. She managed to stop herself, even though the scratching would have felt so heavenly, almost orgasmic. She lowered her arm instead and went through to the living room to power up her laptop so she could do her research. The bath continued to fill as she perched on the edge of her sofa waiting for the computer to finish its boot sequence. If Lydia had looked down and to the right, into her bathroom sink, she would have seen a house spider sitting there. Granted, it wasn’t easy to see it as it was spread-eagled over the plughole. It had stayed absolutely still when she was in the bathroom looking at the bite on her wrist, but the moment she went out of the door and into the living room it suddenly made its move, running up the side of the sink. It couldn’t get a good grip on the porcelain and for a few moments it looked as if it was running on the spot. It sat still for a moment, almost as if it was contemplating its next move and then it shot forwards again with incredible speed. Its legs skidded and slipped, but its forward momentum took it up to the ridge of the sink where it stayed for a moment, barely balancing on the rim. It moved again, this time slipping off the edge and spreading out its legs for the short decent. It landed on the lino covered floor and ran around the back of the sink column. It sat there in the shadows, hiding, waiting. It had a job to do.
Lydia was searching through various pictures of spider bites, some of them were utterly horrendous to look at. Torn skin, yellow pus, and swollen appendages. Thankfully, none of them looked anything like the wound that she had on her wrist. She thought that she should spend a bit more time on it, research it properly, but the aching in her joints was crying out to be soaked in that beautiful lavender bath. She abandoned the laptop and went to the bathroom to check on the progress of the bath water. It wasn’t as high as she wanted it to be, but there was enough for her to get in and let it finish filling up around her. She could lie back and turn the tap off with her toe, no problems there. She stripped off the dressing gown and dropped it to the floor, not caring that she would have to move it before she got out to avoid getting it wet. She pulled the bun out of her hair and fanned it out. Each strand felt like it was breathing a sigh of relief. It reached almost to the middle of her back and even though she was naturally jet black and she was two months shy of being thirty years old there was not a fleck of grey in there, not one. She put her hands on each side of the bath and stepped in. The water was halfway up her shins and the soothing heat as it touched her skin caused her to involuntarily urinate a little into the water. Ordinarily, she would have been disgusted to sit in the water after that, but today she just didn’t care. She began to lower herself down and then stood right back up again. As she had begun to lower herself she’d felt her bitten wrist crackle. It sounded like someone was biting down on a generous mouthful of crisps. She thought that she felt it move out of place a little, dislocating itself slightly. She flexed it a little, and although it was sore and itchy as hell it felt as if it was working properly. She shrugged and placed her elb
ows on the sides of the bath instead to lower herself down. The water felt amazing, better than any massage, better than any lover, better than any meal. She felt as if she had entered the gates of paradise right there in her little tub. She leaned her head back and slid her body down wards until she was as flat as she could get.
Her hair was hanging over the back of the bath. The spider behind the sink column saw it.
It made its move.
It ran forwards, covering the small distance between the sink and the back of the bath in a matter of seconds. It charged up the smooth plastic panel and then it began to lose its footing on the smooth surface. It almost fell, but it put on an extra burst of speed, its flailing legs moving so quickly that they were almost a blur. It edged upwards, just a little, just enough to catch itself on the edge of Lydia’s dangling hair. It scrambled into the tangled mess and rested for a few moments. Then it started to move again, this time more slowly. It picked its way through the mess of hair until it found a level surface to stand on. It had found the edge of the bath where Lydia’s shoulder was resting right in front of it.
Lydia let the water run. It began to cover her belly. She decided to kick the tap off once it had covered the small mountains of her breasts. That would leave her enough room to top up when the water started to go cold on her. She closed her eyes, wondering if she would fall asleep or not. For the moment, she was happy just to smell the lavender rising up all around her and to listen to the trickling of water from the tap. She opened her eyes and was raising her foot to kick the tap off when she felt something tickling her left shoulder. She reached up with her right hand, thinking that it was just another loose strand of hair from the mess that was on her head, and that she should probably give it a good washing whilst she was in here. Her hand arrived at her shoulder and she instantly felt something move. She felt something tickle the side of her neck and a moment later the feather-light ripple of movement went up her face. She swiped at her cheek, causing the bath water to slosh over the side of the tub. Whatever was there moved upwards towards the top of her head.
Day of the Spiders Page 12