Day of the Spiders

  “Don’t play games with me,” said Roberts. He leaned back in his reclining office chair and folded his arms across his chest. His chair creaked in protest at Roberts shifting his considerable weight backwards.

  “Games? We aren’t playing games,” said Thompson. He looked over at Wells, “Are we playing games?”

  Wells shook his head. He said nothing. He was beginning to break out in a sweat. The office suddenly felt very warm to him all of a sudden.

  Roberts lowered his head for a moment. Thompson knew he was collecting his temper. A glow of red was beginning to creep out of Roberts’ collar.

  “We investigated the scene of Lottie Richmond’s death and there was an incident,” said Thompson.

  Roberts’ head came up again.

  “We found this,” said Thompson. He rooted in his pocket and drew out the crumpled evidence bag that he had put the dead spider in. He flopped it onto Robert’s desk. Roberts picked it up and slowly eyed the contents. The plastic bag rustled under his fingers.

  “A spider?” said Roberts.

  “Yes sir,” said Thompson.

  Roberts frowned at him, almost comically. “Why on earth have you brought me a dead spider?”

  “I believe that is what killed Lottie Richmond, and one of them attacked Wells, bit him right on his hand.”

  Roberts looked at Wells and then back at Thompson. “Please tell me you have evidence to support what you are saying.”

  “There was a bite, just like the one that Wells has, on the body of Lottie Richmond. We also found a body in number ten Corsica Road, he too had a bite. There was also an accident involving another one of the neighbours this morning. A young girl by the name of Katie Underwood broke her leg pretty badly after she fell out of her shower. We think she was trying to get away from something. She had exactly the same bite on one of her fingers. Of course, we don’t know for sure how it happened, and we won’t know until she wakes up from her operation to piece her leg back together.”

  Roberts was looking at him the whole time he was speaking. The telling off he had planned for Thompson was now all but forgotten.

  “Are you sure about all of this Thompson? Are you really sure?” said Roberts.

  “I’m as sure as I can be with the evidence I have,” said Thompson.

  Roberts leaned back in his chair making it creak even more. He looped his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. Thompson wondered to himself if Roberts had ever trained to be an actor of some sort. Every gesture he made was over-blown theatre.

  “I’m going to have to take this to the big boys Thompson. They are going want to know where I got my information. I need you to write me a detailed report as soon as you can,” said Roberts.

  “Of course,” said Thompson.

  Roberts turned his attention to Wells. “Are you alright?” he said. The colour had drained from Wells’ face. His lips had taken on a slightly blueish hue.

  “My hand….” said Wells. He was cradling the bitten hand across his other forearm. Thompson looked over at him and he saw the distress on Wells’ face.

  “What’s wrong?” said Thompson.

  “…..hurts,” mumble Wells. His voice sounded like it was becoming more distant, less coherent. He was fading into unconsciousness.

  “Show me,” said Thompson and he took hold of the injured hand. He lifted it up off Wells’ forearm so he could try and take the dressing off to look at the bite. Wells’ hand felt as though it was filled with air, like there was nothing inside it. The skin felt cold and dead beneath Thompson’s fingers. He took hold of the edge of the dressing, ready to start taking it off just as Wells slipped into a dead faint. He rolled sideways off his chair and descended gracefully to the floor. As he went, Thompson reflexively gripped his hand in an effort to stop him falling. Wells’ hand crunched and crackled under Thompson’s grip. He looked down and saw that Wells’ hand and a long section of his forearm was hanging from his own closed fist. The fingers that he had clamped down on had collapsed into a stomach-churning mess of red, chunky flesh. Pieces of skin from the collapsed fingers sat on top of the sludge, pale white like the skin on a blister. Thompson leapt out of his chair, letting out a high-pitched yell. He shook the severed appendage off his hand, sending pieces of red sludge flying in all directions. It slopped onto the floor and began to dissolve into a foul-smelling green slime. The skin on Wells’ severed arm began to break apart until all of its structure was gone. Smoke began to rise up off the carpeted floor all around the severed limb.

  “Jesus fucking Christ….” bellowed Roberts. He scrambled around his desk, pulled the door open and began yelling for someone to call an ambulance. Some of the smoke caught Thompson. His throat immediately felt like it was trying to close up on him. Whatever that green shit was, it was burning the carpet away. The fumes coming from it were poisonous, he was sure of it. Roberts was turning around to come back in the room.

  “Get out of here, quick,” said Thompson. His voice was gravelly and horse from the effect of the fumes. Roberts stared at him for a moment, and then the stench of the burning floor hit him. He put his hand over his mouth and nose and stepped back out of the door again. Thompson moved around the prone body of Wells and into the doorway. He squatted down near Wells’ head, hooked his hands under Wells’ armpits and started to drag him towards the door. He tried as best as he could not to look at the arm that was now missing just below his elbow and the putrid slime that was oozing out of it. He turned his head to where the air was a little fresher and he took a gasping breath. He held the air in his lungs and pulled Wells with all the strength that he had. He began to move backwards out of the door of the office.

  “Leave him, leave him in there. There’s nothing you can do for him,” yelled Roberts.

  Thompson felt his temper flare. He couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of Roberts’ mouth. He wasn’t going to leave his partner, his friend to die.

  “Get out of the fucking way, or I’ll throw you in there myself,” he shouted at Roberts.

  Roberts moved away, shocked by the suddenness with which Thompson had shouted. Thompson gave Wells three more good pulls and he had him clear of the door. Roberts banged it shut, causing the glass to vibrate. The room quickly became engulfed. Roberts’ desk became obscured by the grey fog that was rising up off the floor. Everyone in the department had abandoned their desks and were stood watching the grotesque scene that was unfolding in front of them.

  “Someone call an ambulance now,” roared Thompson. A moment later the fire alarms began to screech and howl all around them. The assembled hoard began to make for the exits. Thompson could have cheerfully shaken each and every one of them. One person stayed behind, she had her desk phone in her hand and she was yelling for the ambulance.

  “Thank you,” Thompson called over and she nodded at him to show that she had heard. He looked around again to tell Roberts to get something to put under Wells’ head, but he had already gone.

  “Fucking arsehole,” Thompson whispered to himself. He looked down at Wells. His eyes were opening, but they were rolling over white. He was in a bad way. Thompson felt momentarily helpless. He didn’t know what to do for the best. He looked down at the stump of his arm. There was no blood that he could see, just that horrible green stuff slowly trailing out of it. He didn’t know if he should tie it off, or whether he would just end up making things worse. His thoughts were interrupted by the woman that had been on the phone coming over to him. She snatched coats off the hooks and balled them up to make a pillow for Wells.

  “Ambulance is on its way. Three minutes. They have one two streets away,” she said.

  “Thank God for that,” said Thompson. He hooked his hands behind Wells’ head and lifted it so that the woman could stuff her makeshift pillow underneath. Thompson looked up at her face and he caught her eye. He had seen her around the station for as long as he could remember, but he could never recall a single time that he had ever engaged in conversation with h
er. The irony of her being his saving grace now was not lost on him. In retrospect, he wished that he had made the time just to at least say hello, just once, so he could feel less of an arsehole right now.

  “Harriet Smithy,” she said, picking up on his vibe.

  “Thanks for sticking around Harriet,” he said. It was the best he could come up with.

  “No problem. I’m going to go downstairs and look out for that ambulance. Do you need anything else?” said Harriet.

  Thompson looked down at the prone body of Wells. He wasn’t going anywhere, he was still out cold. He looked up at Harriet and shook his head. She pointed at the oozing stump of Wells’ arm.

  “I would stay away from that if I were you,” she said and then she was gone, leaving the two of them alone.

  Thompson sat down on the floor on the right side of Wells. The howling of the fire alarms normally irritated the shit out of him. Every Friday morning the damn things would be tested, and every Friday morning, almost without fail, he would forget that they got tested. They would erupt into life for five seconds, causing him to swear and place his hands over his ears until that godforsaken shrieking had stopped. But today the shrieking floated over his head as if it was coming from a long distance away. The pain in his ears from the noise paled into insignificance with what had happened since he had arrived at work today. It was going to be tough to keep this out of the press. It was going to be equally tough to talk to Wells’ family about what had happened to him. One thing he did know for sure was that it was very likely that he was going to end up in that isolation ward along with that poor unfortunate girl who was already in there. Everything was just such a fucking mess, and he had a horrible crawling fear in his guts that things were going to get a whole hell of a lot worse before they got better.

  He looked down at his partner. He jumped a little when he realised that Wells had opened his eyes and he was looking at him. A smile broke over Wells’ face that sent a cold snap right down Thompson’s spine. It was like looking at a corpse grinning.

  “You OK chief?” he said.

  “Been better,” Wells croaked. He started to move, as if he was trying to get up off the floor. Thompson pressed his hands onto his shoulders to keep him still.

  “Take it easy old buddy, help is on the way. Try not to move,” he said.

  Wells stopped moving and relaxed his body again. A frown furrowed across his face. “….feel funny,” he said. Thompson could barely hear him over the howling fire alarms.

  Wells suddenly reached out with his remaining hand and gripped Thompson’s collar he pulled him down with amazing strength.

  “I’m…..infected,” he growled in Thompson’s face. A waft of foul smelling breath hit Thompson’s nostrils. He would have recoiled away from it, but Wells’ grip was firm.

  “I….can….feel….it,” grunted Wells.

  “Wh…what can you feel?” said Thompson. He was suddenly scared. He wanted to be as far away from this Wells shaped thing on the floor as he could possibly get.

  “E…..e…..everything…..c…c…ch..ch…changes,” grunted Wells. His mouth opened wider and wider until the skin around his mouth was stretched as far as it could. Wells began to scream. It started softly at first and then it rose in pitch and volume until it was louder than the fire alarms. Thompson fought to get away from his grip, pulling at Wells’ hand, feeling his shirt giving out under the arms in his efforts to free himself. He could feel his own scream beginning to build inside his chest, he was going to scream until his voice became horse, he was going to scream until his sanity cracked right down the middle and spilled out of his ears. He was going to scream himself to death, until his heart froze still in his chest and dropped him to the floor, his blood halting dead in its tracks as it ran through his veins. By Christ, he was going to scream.

  But Wells dropped back to the floor, his mouth and his eyes closing, his grip on Thompson’s collar relaxing, spilling him to the floor. Thompson scrambled away and got to his feet, his heart thundering in his chest and his breath coming in short snaps. He looked down at Wells, ready to run. But Wells was out, and he looked just like his old self again.

  The door at the far end of the office burst open, and Harriet came through closely followed by two paramedics and three firefighters. A moment later the fire alarms fell silent.

  Thompson stepped backwards until his back struck the wall. The room had suddenly become deadly silent. Even with the loud voices of all the new people in the room, everything was silent. Thompson went for the door. He needed to get out of here. He needed some air, and something to bring him back into the realms of normality.

  He went out to the car park where the rest of the buildings staff were assembled. Some of them came over to him, trying to ask him questions, but it felt like their voices were coming from inside a bubble, far away and muted. He stood for a moment, not responding, not saying a word.

  He caught sight of Roberts and strode over to him. Roberts cowered a little, as if he expected Thompson to lay him out right in front of everyone. Thompson saw that Roberts still had the evidence bag in his hand with the dead spider inside. Thompson pointed at the bag.

  “Get that to whoever deals with these things. Don’t wait, get it done,” he said. Then he moved away. He headed back to his car. Right now, he needed to drive. He needed to get away from here. He needed to clear his head so that he knew what his next move would be.

  19.

  Doctor Wilson put the mask over her nose and mouth in readiness to go and tend to her patient. Her shift was two hours beyond the finish line and she should have been at home, lying on the couch and snoring away with the television blaring in the background. But such was the way things were in her line of work, there was nobody available to cover her, especially as the isolation ward was now active for the first time in her tenure at the hospital. They were all trained on how to use it, but most of the training had fallen by the wayside, simply because it had rarely been put into practice. By all accounts she had been incredibly lucky that she had never even witnessed anything that even came close to an outbreak, not even a scare. Lucky yes, but prepared, no.

  She looked in through the large window at her patient. The young girl Katie was slowly writhing in, what looked to be, pain. The slow drip of morphine that had been pumped slowly into her over the last few hours had obviously run out. Wilson needed to get her on another strong pain killer before she woke up fully, otherwise it was sure as hell going to get noisy in there. She also needed to explain to the girl exactly where she was and how she had ended up there.

  Wilson was all kitted up. She had pulled staff nurse Renfrew off his normal duties to keep an eye on her from the other side of the door. She had warned him to get kitted out just in case she needed him to come in and assist. Bite or no bite, that girl had just undergone major surgery and any movement this soon afterwards could have caused her more damage and certainly a hell of a lot more pain.

  “Are you ready?” she said to Renfrew.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied in his thick Scottish accent.

  “You see me wave, you get in there ok?”

  “Gaw tit,” said Renfrew and covered his nose and mouth with his mask.

  Wilson nodded at him and then reversed through the double doors, pulling her trolley of equipment along with her. The doors swung behind her and latched shut. There was a strange silence in the room, as if the walls were absorbing every sound. Katie was moaning and whimpering. Her eyes were flickering open and allowing a steady stream of tears to run down the sides of her face and onto her ears.

  “It ok, don’t worry. You’re in hospital, but everything is going to be fine,” soothed Wilson.

  Katie’s eyes looked like they were grasping a little focus at the sound of Wilson’s voice. The wandering eyes found Wilson’s face. Katie’s writhing and moaning stopped as her eyes locked on to the doctor in front of her.

  “….hurts,” Katie rasped, “Leg….hurts…”

 
Wilson leaned in and stroked her arm. “I know it does sweetie, I’m going to try and make you more comfortable and then we can talk,” she said.

  Katie gave her a weak nod and a fresh splash of tears ran down the sides of her face. Wilson’s heart ached for her a little. She didn’t often get pangs of emotion, she was normally in ‘work mode’ where emotion did not belong. Emotion would get in the way of important off-the-cuff decisions that she had to make to save lives. But, with Katie, something about her young face, her helpless look made her heart go out to her. She set about preparing a generous hit of pain killers into a syringe. She took it over to Katie.

  “Gonna make you feel a little better now ok?” she said.

  Katie nodded again and Wilson jabbed her upper arm with the painkiller. “Right, just give it a minute to work and then we’ll have a little chat.”

  Wilson set to work taking Katie’s blood pressure and checking her heart rate. She finished off by taking her temperature which was a few degrees above normal. She carefully checked the bite on her finger. It was horribly swollen and a steady stream of pink and green pus was running from the wound and dripping onto the bed. She would deal with it, but she needed to make sure she was comfortable first. Katie’s writhing was slowing down and her breathing rate was falling into a more natural rhythm. Wilson pushed the trolley out of the way and pulled a chair up next to Katie. Katie turned her head towards Wilson.

  “Why are you wearing a mask?” said Katie.

  Wilson hesitated a moment and then she pulled it clear of her nose and mouth. “Just a precaution. I don’t want you getting any infections,” said Wilson. There was no point in alarming her just yet, not until she knew exactly what she was dealing with.

  “Can you remember what happened?” said Wilson.

  Katie frowned for a moment. Wilson could almost see the cogs turning in her head through the pain killing fog. “I fell…..I was in the shower….something…”

  Her eyes closed again and her voice trailed off. Wilson gave her a gentle shake. Her head turned towards Wilson and she opened her eyes again. She offered Wilson another smile and then her face dissolved into a look of utter terror.