Day of the Spiders

  “What happened to him?”

  “He changed Doctor Briggs. He became something we haven’t seen before. As did the girl with the broken leg,” said Layfied. He rummaged in his inside pocket and brought out his mobile phone. He tapped the screen half a dozen times and then slid the phone across the table. Briggs picked it up and had a look at the image on the screen.

  The world swam in front of his eyes. His heart began to pound, almost right out of his chest. His lungs began to spasm, stopping the regular pull of breaths and replacing them with dog-like panting. He threw the phone onto the table, the metallic bang echoing around the sparse room. He pinched his eyes shut, trying to get the image from the phone screen out of his mind, but it was as if the image was burned into his eyes, the same way that staring at the sun would leave a blind spot in every image you looked at thereafter.

  It was a picture of the girl that Layfield had been talking about. The picture looked like it had been taken in a long hallway, which Briggs had assumed had been the corridor of the hospital. The girl was standing right in the middle of the corridor, the torn remains of her hospital gown clinging to her body. It had been shredded by the extra limbs that had grown out of the sides of her lower chest and abdomen. The new legs were pressed against the walls at either side, lifting the human legs off the floor. He had only looked at the picture for a moment, but he saw the broken leg, and the metal bar that had been surgically attached to it to hold it together. He also saw the image that came out of the dark corner of his mind and overlay itself onto the picture on Layfield’s phone. The two were almost indistinguishable.

  “Are you going to tell me what that is?” said Layfield.

  “How did you get that picture?” said Briggs. His voice had picked up a very distinguished wobble.

  “It was taken by one of the staff and forwarded by the investigating D.C.I. He was the one that had been working on the case. It was taken inside that hospital today. Are you going to tell me what it is?”

  Briggs took a deep breath. “I need another cigarette,” he said.

  After he had been obliged he sat back in his chair. He had managed to settle himself down again. He had been dreaming about this moment, when they all came crawling back to him because the virus had returned, but now that it looked like it was happening he felt no joy, no sense of revenge, nothing. It was the biggest anti-climax of his whole life. The only thing that he felt was a hollow, empty fear that felt like it ran through his entire middle.

  “Well?” said Layfield.

  Briggs dragged on his cigarette. He supposed that if he told this fat little fuck what he wanted to know then perhaps he might put him back in the Tulip Suite for the rest of his days. He thought that it might be the safest place to be, but he knew deep down that they would get in. They always got in when you least expected them to.

  “It’s a hybrid,” he said and blew out smoke. Layfield still looked like he had no clue.

  “The Whisperer…. The virus was only supposed to bond itself to spider DNA. But the one factor that I didn’t even think about was the fact that the virus would evolve so quickly. The moment it was released, in a gaseous form, it began to mutate, it began to evolve. It took on a survival instinct. Every living thing on this earth has to evolve to survive, right?”

  Layfield shrugged.

  “There were elements of the virus that accelerated the life cycle of spiders, so their numbers would be culled. They were at such high levels that they were beginning to wipe out the bee population, and you don’t need me to tell you how much of a disaster for the environment that would have been. But, like I say, the virus had its own ideas. By the time I got inside the spider nest in Newtown the next stage had already begun. It had found a way to bond to human DNA and to fuse the two together, creating a new type of species that could host the virus, give it life.”

  He pointed at Layfield’s phone. “That, right there is proof of what I am telling you. When you killed Newtown, that virus survived. It took a little time, but it started to grow again, and I’m betting it has gotten a little smarter this time. All you did by blowing it up was to press the reset switch, force it to start again. All it needed to do was to bond to its first arachnid host and then it would have been away.”

  Briggs leaned forwards as far as his cuffed hand would let him. “Those spiders that bit those people are infected with it, all of them. God knows how many more there are. The spider to human ratio is something like two-point-eight-million-to-one. From the looks of it, only one bite is needed for that virus to bond to a human and turn them into that” he said, tapping the table.

  There was quiet in the room for a moment. The clock on the wall buzzed, insect like in the silence.

  “Can you prove any of these….these… things that you’re saying?” said Layfield.

  “Not sitting here with a cuff on my arm I can’t. But I can tell you, nobody knows that virus like I do. I’m telling you right now, whether you choose to believe me, or you choose to go and put me back on that ward until I’m old and grey, that virus is going to turn into a plague very quickly. From the looks of things, it has already made a start,” said Briggs.

  Silence again. Briggs could almost see the cogs in Layfield’s head turning over. He was surprised that the sweat on there wasn’t starting to sizzle.

  “What if I could offer you your old job back,” said Layfield.

  And there it was. There had been the moment he had been waiting for, for five long years. Five years of nightmares, five years of eating the same appalling food at the same times every day. Five years of being told when he could go for a cigarette, when he could go to bed, when he had to get up in the morning and five years of Doctor Fucking Low.

  He had been right all along. He knew he had been right, but as the time had passed he had begun to believe it less and less, but here it was, right in front of him. He finally had the axe, the question was whether or not he was going to grind it. He thought he might sharpen it a little.

  “I was told that the Environmental Services Agency was a figment of my imagination. It is going to take something very special to win you my trust again after what you have put me through,” said Briggs.

  Layfield offered a pained smile. “I quite understand your position Doctor Briggs. But you have to understand, that we had no idea what it was that we were dealing with. It wasn’t inconceivable that you had, if you pardon the phrase, doctored that virus to behave in a way that nobody had predicted. At least that was the information that was being passed around in the government at that time.”

  Briggs opened his mouth to protest but Layfield held up his hand to silence him. “Rest assured Doctor Briggs, I do not represent that government. Do I believe what they have said about you? Having met you, I’m not so sure.”

  “So, what’s the deal?” said Briggs.

  “We have an offer for you. You come back to work for us. You find a cure for this…virus of yours. If you get the job done, then we let you go with a new identity, a relocation and more money than you could possibly spend in your lifetime,” said Layfield. He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his considerable middle.

  “What about my reputation?”

  “I’m afraid that is the one sacrifice that you will have to make. The country needs its Bogeyman, and they have chosen you for that particular honour. I can’t deny them that.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “Do you really think that is a possibility?” said Layfield, cocking his head slightly to the left.

  Briggs mulled it over. Layfield had him by the short hairs, and he knew it. What choice did he have? At least he might have a shot at some sort of life after it was all over. He thought about going to Hawaii and spending the rest of his days sipping cocktails by the beach. Perhaps he would watch the sun go down every evening, perhaps he could meet a girl….perhaps.

  He leaned forwards and offered his free hand to Layfield.

  “We have a deal?” said Layfield.


  “It had better be a lot of money. I have plans.”

  “You won’t be disappointed,” said Layfield. He reached over the desk with his own pudgy hand and they shook.

  4.

  The Environmental Services Agency was real alright. It always had been. Now, here he was heading back to the people who he had been told had been a figment of his imagination for five years. He had so many conflicting emotions over it he could barely focus on a single one of them. One thing he did know for sure, was that he had a lovely warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach, knowing that he would never be back on the Tulip Suite ever again. But, even that emotion was conflicted with a terrible sadness. He found himself missing his little room, missing his cigarette breaks, missing the regular food, missing the staff that had treated him well, and even the ones who had been dismissive of him. He had known about people becoming institutionalised. He had written a paper on it years ago during his university course, but he had never really believed that it was possible, but here he was, a living example of the very thing he didn’t believe in.

  Wasn’t life funny? He guessed it was because a smile was breaking out over his face. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. Really, what did he have to smile about? He was basically still a prisoner. The choice he had been given hadn’t been one with much of a back-out clause. If that was the case he would have told Layfield to cram his offer right up his arse, or at least he thought he would have. Again, the stir of confusion within him couldn’t offer him a clear answer.

  Then there was the virus.

  Now there was something to think over, that virus that he had spent so long creating. It was basically his baby, and he had unleashed it on the world without a thought that it might try and counter its basic programming. Had it really tried to survive? Or had it just been rewritten by the effects of the pollutants in the atmosphere. He had to admit it, he was desperate to find out if it was still out there and causing trouble, in which case, it had adapted to survive. Now, if that was true, and he could prove that it was true….

  He had created a new form of life.

  He snapped his thoughts back to reality. He didn’t know anything for sure yet. It didn’t stop the thought dancing around his head. How many men who walked this earth could say that they had created a new form of life, how many? None that he could think of. Yes, there were plenty of people who had discovered new forms of life, but how many had actually created a new form of life. It had the Nobel prize written all over it…

  He held his breath for a moment and brought his mind back to front and centre. He had to remember that this thing that he had created had caused a hell of a lot of people to die. It had caused a whole town to be wiped off the face of the earth, never to return. It had killed everyone in his team, those that he had called his friends. On top of that it had caused the death of Lorna Johnson, the unfortunate woman who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Looking at the bigger picture, they had all been fish out of water, she had just joined them as they flapped and gasped their way through the mutation of the virus and the Newtown spiders.

  Just wait, he told himself. Let’s just see what we find.

  But there was the picture that Layfield had shown him. The picture from the hospital, the girl that had been mutated into a hybrid, just the same as the one that he had seen in Newtown. That had to be the virus. It just had to be. There was nothing else on this earth that could have caused that to happen, surely.

  Oh, he could just drive himself mad.

  “Three minutes to landing Doctor Briggs,” said a voice suddenly in his ears. The headset he was wearing was cumbersome and uncomfortable, but the constant noise from the helicopter rotors made it impossible to communicate any other way. The voice had come from Lieutenant Monsun, who was sitting in the seat next to him. He had been assigned to escort him to the ESA. Briggs had found him to be the master of the poker face. Briggs had tried to crack him with a few jokes, but Monsun was having none of it. His stony face remained unimpressed with Briggs’ shoddy attempts at humour. The only response he had got from Monsun had been a somewhat gruff “Very droll, sir,” and nothing more. He had given Monsun up as a bad lot. Perhaps there would be some other likeminded scientists at the ESA that he could enjoy some laughs with.

  The helicopter started to lose altitude quickly. Briggs gripped the sides of his seat and doubled over to combat the stomach drop. He wasn’t the biggest fan of flying at the best of times, and this had been in first go in a helicopter. He wasn’t above the idea that he would like to make this one his last. He pinched his eyes closed, wondering if they were about to slam into the ground, and then at least the whole sorry mess would be put to rest finally. Instead he felt the drop slowing and the soft metallic clunk as the helicopter touched down.

  “Let’s go. Duck your head until we’re clear, otherwise you might get yourself a haircut,” said Monsun.

  Briggs nodded and then took off his headset. The door was opened by another soldier on the outside and Briggs stepped out. It was the freshest air that he had breathed in a long time, even over the smell of the burning fuel from the chopper. He dutifully ducked his head and allowed the soldier to lead him away from the whirring blades.

  “Clear now, sir,” said the soldier. Briggs thanked him, straightened himself up and took a moment to stretch.

  The building was right next to the beach, a remote location that wasn’t available to the general public. It was all government owned, and run by the military and the security around the place was tight as tight could be. Briggs breathed in, taking a good smell of that slightly salty sea air. Never had such a simple pleasure felt so wonderful in all his days. He began to feel his need to be back in the Tulip Suite start to falter. Perhaps tomorrow he might get a chance to walk on the beach, perhaps take off his shoes and feel the sand squash between his toes, that would be heavenly, absolutely heavenly.

  “Let’s go,” said Monsun from behind him, breaking him out of his momentary fantasy.

  Briggs saw the way in in front of him. There was a guard on the door waving him over. He wasn’t going to be given a moment to gather himself it would seem. He had a momentary fear that he was simply moving from one prison to another. It probably wasn’t good to think like that, a man could drive himself crazy…

  The light inside the building was such that it hurt Briggs’ eyes. Every corridor seemed to blaze with a whiteness that was almost unbearable to look at. Had it been this bright the last time he was hear? Perhaps he had just been so used to it that he hadn’t even noticed it anymore. Or, it could have been the fact that the Tulip Suite was in a state of such neglect that his eyes were not used to seeing a fresh paint job. He was being led down the corridor, the unknown soldier from the door in front and Monsun behind him. The corridor split into a left-hand turn and Briggs started down it, unconsciously heading to his old work area. Monsun corrected him with a rough shove.

  “Watch it!” Briggs yelled at him. Monsun’s expression never changed. He looked like a man who had done this kind of assignment a thousand times over. Briggs began to wonder to himself how many men Monsun had killed over his lifetime. He even opened his mouth to ask and then snapped it shut again. Some things, he thought, were better left unsaid.

  As they carried on down the corridor, he realised that they were heading down to the conference room. He figured that his work was not going to begin right away. Hell, he wasn’t even going to get a cup of coffee. Just as he suspected they made their way towards the front of the building, where all the offices were located, the nicely carpeted areas and glass walls, the space where business attire was compulsory, as was a decent set of qualifications. This was an area of the building that represented everything he hated about the people that he worked for. He didn’t want to be involved in office politics, or sucking up to the directors, it just wasn’t him. He did, however, enjoy the facilities that were on offer. The odour of fresh coffee seemed to be ingrained in the very fabric of the building out here. The sm
ell of it made his mouth water.

  They headed for the conference room and Briggs caught sight of Layfield, our wonderful Prime Minister sitting at the head of the large, polished surface of the conference table. He sighed, not wanting to engage in another conversation with him. He wouldn’t have even voted for him, never mind liked to have sat and had a chat with him. Doing it twice within a twenty-four-hour period was just not cricket. Nevertheless, he took a deep breath and allowed himself to be led into the room. Layfield stood up as he entered and offered his hand.

  “Here he is, here’s our man,” he said. He almost sounded happy, almost. There was a definite tinge of shakiness in his voice. Briggs picked up on it. Layfield was worried. Whatever was going on out there, it was potentially catastrophic and he was the man in the hot seat. Briggs almost felt sorry for him, almost. He shook Layfield’s hand which felt clammy and limp, like a dead fish. It was another sign that he was being pressed against the wall with his pants down. Layfield offered him a seat and he took the one nearest to him. He made Layfield even more nervous, he knew it and he took pleasure in it.

  “Well, how does it feel to be back?” said Layfield, a big false grin across his face.

  “It’s like I never left,” said Briggs with more than a hint of sarcasm.

  “We have got everything in place for you to conduct your….research? Whatever it is that you do. The full capacity of this complex is at your disposal, plus anything that you need. You ask for it, it will be provided,” said Layfield.

  “I’ll need an extra pair of hands, and a guarantee that you won’t interfere with my work. Oh, and I need confirmation of the promise you made to me. Call it a down payment if you like,” said Briggs.

  Layfield swallowed hard. His throat clicked audibly. “I will have a bank account set up in the next few hours, and ten percent of your final payoff deposited, will that suffice?”

  “Good enough, now what about….”

  “An assistant? Oh yes, I have an assistant for you Doctor Briggs. I anticipated that you might need some help and encouragement. I need a pair of eyes on you Doc, just to make sure that you uphold your end of the deal. That’s the way it’s going to be.” said Layfield. He sounded like he had a little bass in his voice again. Now it was Briggs’ turn to be a little on edge.