He trained his beam on the last row of skeletons and crept closer. The first thing he noticed was a dead deer that had not yet been stripped bare. Perhaps the one he saw getting ripped into the canopy yesterday. The only thing left was its head, with one black eye staring vacantly upward.
Vargas moved his beam to the next body of bones. He gasped at the sight.
DeLuca’s head, arms, and legs were still intact, but his torso had been devoured. The shredded clothes, bunched next to his shoulder blade, confirmed it was him.
Vargas had seen some messed-up things in his life. People beaten and maimed. He’d seen his share of dead bodies too.
But this was something on a different scale altogether.
Just keep going, Ricky.
Vargas moved the UV beam slowly to the left. The blue light revealed the bodies of the Johnsons and their grandkid.
The grandparents’ bodies were straitjacketed in hundreds of webs. Jim had puncture wounds in his throat and appeared to have bled out. The creature had eaten Maryann’s arms. Connor had been completely consumed and was recognizable only by the size of his skeleton.
Vargas fought back the urge to vomit. The nauseating stench did not help.
“Ricky?” someone moaned.
Vargas spun to his left and shined his light over two rigid corpses in half-eaten states. Then, farther . . .
It was Megan. Still alive, cocooned in webs.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out who the two corpses were next to her, but Vargas couldn’t bring himself to look at Emma’s body.
Megan squinted. “Is that you?”
She sounded weak. But he had a chance to save her from an end beyond anyone’s wildest nightmares.
“It’s me.”
She cracked a pained smile. “I knew you’d come.”
“Yeah, right,” he said while rifling through Ryan’s backpack. “You caught me on a good day.”
“Thank you,” Megan said tenderly.
“Okay, let’s get you outta these webs.”
Vargas fished out a hunting knife and whipped off the sheath. He planted the serrated edge over the webs binding Megan’s knees. Then he sawed back and forth, carving through a bundle of webs at a time.
Within a minute, he’d managed to free Megan up to her stomach. Halfway done.
He worked the knife efficiently, not wasting a second, putting as much force into it as he safely could. Megan stayed silent, letting him concentrate on his work.
His forearm ached as he cut away the final few inches from around her chest. Sweat dripped from his brow. Finally, he had cut through the cocoon and pulled it apart from her body.
Vargas grabbed Megan’s arms and hauled her to a sitting position.
“Thank you,” she said groggily.
“Can you move?”
“I’ll try. What about the rest? Is anyone else . . .”
His somber look told her all she needed to know. She returned his grim acknowledgment.
He helped her to her feet. She leaned against him—unsteady on her legs, but that would do.
Vargas turned Megan toward the tunnel. “Let’s go.”
“What’s the plan?”
“The plan is to get the fuck outta here.”
Before he could take a step forward, a scuttling sound echoed down the tunnel, growing louder by the second.
The creature was coming back.
Chapter
Thirty-
Three
Vargas knew that he had only moments to come up with something if he didn’t want them both to end up in the beast’s belly. It was debatable whether Megan could even make it out of the burrow on her own, never mind face down an angry creature that had just learned of an uninvited guest.
An animal screech resonated up the tunnel, followed by sounds of a frantic struggle. Perhaps a bear, putting up a last-ditch effort against the arachnid. Its struggling would prove futile, but it might give Vargas a little more time before the monster reached them.
Finally, a plan formed in his mind. A long shot, but better than no shot at all. Vargas passed Megan the UV flashlight. He knelt by Ryan’s pack and reached inside.
“The gunpowder . . .” Megan murmured. She looked ready to collapse under her own weight.
“The motherfuckin’ gunpowder!” Vargas replied. “It’s the only shot we got. We burn his little bachelor pad to the ground and hope it distracts him long enough for us to sneak outta here.”
He grabbed the small powder keg out of the backpack and set it on the ground.
Vargas squeezed the hunting knife between two of the lid’s oaken slats, rapidly working a gap. The tip of the blade punctured through what looked like wax paper.
“Shine it down here,” he said.
Megan tottered toward him with the UV light.
“Yeah baby,” he shouted.
Inside the paper covering, he could see black, granular powder. And it still appeared dry.
“Not bad for two-hundred-year-old gunpowder. That is, if it still burns.”
And that was a big if. For all he knew, it might fizzle out with a hiss, just as their lives would shortly thereafter. He had no way of telling, but he had to try. Vargas angled the keg down until the gunpowder streamed out like sand through an hourglass.
“Try not to blow us up too,” Megan said.
“No promises,” he replied, smiling.
The sounds of the struggle up the tunnel ended abruptly. Clearly, whatever animal was fighting for its life had just lost. It brought an eerie silence to the burrow.
“Keep me lit up,” he said to Megan, nodding at the flashlight.
She shined it on the area around his boots, and he moved off, laying a trail of gunpowder in a wide arc across the spiral of skeletons.
“Careful of those webs,” Megan whispered.
But there was no avoiding the ones spread across the ground in the cave. It wouldn’t matter much longer, anyway.
In a few moments, the creature would have bigger problems than losing its dinner.
He continued forty yards across the dark center of the arachnid’s lair, listening intently while laying down a constant trail of powder.
The keg grew lighter in his hands, and the stream of powder thinned to a trickle. The keg was nearly empty.
Would this be enough?
Vargas remembered a second powder keg, but it had been in Emma’s backpack as the thing dragged her down here. It had to be here somewhere.
He would just have to face seeing her dead body.
His gut clenched. He had to sprint back while he still had time. But as he turned, the UV light cut away from him and toward the tunnel entrance, plunging him into darkness.
“What the hell?” he shouted.
Across the cave, Megan held the beam squarely on the arachnid. It stood close to its bed of moss, with a deer in its fangs.
As if sensing their presence, the creature immediately dropped the limp carcass. It hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Vargas stood paralyzed for a split second.
Come on, Ricky!
He patted his pockets for the Zippo.
Empty.
He had put everything in Ryan’s backpack earlier.
Suddenly, the creature let out an ear-shattering hiss. Vargas clutched his ears and tried to ignore the stabbing pain in his head.
“Megan!” he bellowed. “Grab the lighter! Ryan’s side pouch!”
It was no use. Megan couldn’t hear him over the creature’s screeching. He could see her dark figure across the lair, clutching her ears in pain.
The arachnid raised its head, revealing its razor-edged fangs, and burst across the boneyard, directly toward Vargas.
Vargas turned and ran toward the back of the burrow, away from Megan so the
creature couldn’t easily take them both down. She tried to help with the UV light, but he was moving too fast. His boots crunched down on brittle bones as he sprinted, trying to draw the monster closer to the gunpowder.
Vargas reached the mound of bones.
Let’s see you climb this, asshole . . .
He started up, and his boot clattered against a grinning deer skull. His right forearm pushed off from a rib cage, snapping bones. The shattered edges scraped his flesh.
The chattering noise from the arachnid neared.
He reached up and grabbed several bones. They fell around him in a mini avalanche that piled below his feet. It created a sound like a lunatic’s xylophone as he scrambled to get a solid hold on anything. Eventually, he found a long bone that was stuck in place. Vargas grabbed it with both hands and dragged himself a few feet higher.
He glanced back, though it was too dark to see anything beyond the UV beam focusing on him.
“Ricky, watch out!”
Vargas tensed. At any moment, he expected to feel those fangs in the back of his neck. He clutched what looked like a thigh bone, and yanked it free from the mound. Then he turned for a battle that he fully expected to lose.
Regardless, he would make the creature pay dearly.
Megan had to use every bit of strength just to keep the flashlight raised. Every limb seemed to lack the basic strength to function. Only adrenaline kept her standing—that and the thought of the arachnid pulling her ribs apart and gorging on her insides.
Although at the moment, Vargas seemed much closer to losing his life. Megan watched him climb several feet up the pile of remains. A bone in his left hand, primed to attack. The arachnid stood below, front legs upraised like a tarantula about to strike. Maybe the posture was to show its dominance. If so, it needn’t have bothered.
Megan tried to step forward. Her thighs cramped, and she winced in pain. Whatever sedative the creature had injected her with was clearly designed to keep its prey in a weakened state.
She had to shake this off.
Across the cavern, Vargas looked in her direction and tried to shout something. But the creature’s piercing hiss made the words inaudible.
I can’t do a goddamn thing. Not strong enough, and he’s too far away. And do I even have the guts?
The arachnid sprang upward toward Vargas.
“Ricky, watch out!” Megan screamed.
He lurched to the side and swung the bone against the spider’s head. It clattered off the upper shell and snapped in his hand.
Vargas tried to scramble to his left. But the arachnid anticipated the move and lunged at his legs. Both fangs sank deep into his left calf. He screamed out in agony.
“no!” Megan cried out, her voice strong for the first time since her capture.
She flexed her arms and legs. Feeling and strength were quickly returning. She grabbed the pocketknife from her pants and flicked open the blade.
As she stepped forward, fear overwhelmed her, and she froze. She could barely watch. She wanted to run like hell, but something inside told her to stop.
Vargas writhed. She couldn’t hear his scream, but she could see it. Mouth wide open. Bulging eyes. He flailed desperately about with his hands, searching for another loose bone—searching for anything to fight off the predator.
The arachnid shook its head violently to the side, launching Vargas off the mountain of bones. He hurtled through dim moonlight and landed hard against the cave floor a dozen feet away.
Vargas skidded through the bones that the creature had spread around the burrow, arms protectively covering his head. He slid to a stop near the center of the vast space.
This time, she heard his agonized roar.
“ricky!” Megan shouted, taking two steps toward him.
The arachnid scuttled down from the bone pile and moved in slowly for the kill. Almost as if it was enjoying the moment. Toying with him. Taking its time to end the life that had the audacity to enter its home.
Megan cast the light on Vargas, hoping he had something planned. Her foggy mind couldn’t come up with anything beyond the assessment that they were screwed.
Vargas raised his head. One eye was swollen shut, and blood dripped from his lower lip. He lifted his shaking right hand and jerked his thumb up and down. Then he rolled onto his back to face the arachnid.
The lighter!
Megan remembered Vargas putting all his belongings into Ryan’s backpack earlier. She grabbed the pack and tipped out the contents of the main compartment. Just camping equipment. Where the hell was it?
She zipped open the side pockets and threw out a compass, a New York Islanders cap, and, last of all, a Zippo lighter.
She turned, fearing the worst.
The arachnid had neared to within pouncing distance of Vargas. The closer it got, the softer its hiss became.
“Light the goddamn place up!” Vargas yelled.
“But it might kill you!” she cried back.
“megan, do it!”
She knew that this was probably her last chance. Their last chance. And her next move might well end Vargas before the thing could finish him off.
Go for it, she said to herself. Don’t stall; don’t debate. Do it!
She flipped open the lid and thumbed the flint wheel. Sparks brightened the immediate area, soon replaced by a low orange glow from the flame.
The arachnid scuttled toward Vargas. Moving in for the kill now that it had taken away the chance of an escape.
Megan tossed the Zippo onto the gunpowder and staggered backward.
She held her breath, praying . . .
Suddenly, sparks erupted from the ground as the combustible trail ignited.
Crackling fire rushed around the burrow in a wide arc, racing directly for Vargas and the arachnid. The blazing gunpowder brightened the entirety of the underground lair. Throughout the cave, thousands of webs burst into flames, as if someone had sprayed them with an accelerant.
The arachnid screeched in rage as fire raced through the cavern. The powder trail behind Vargas ignited, cutting him off from Megan. Cutting him off from the only way out.
On one side of the fire stood Vargas and the creature. On the other side, Megan and the exit.
The gunpowder ignited every filament of web around it. A giant wall of flames swelled upward, driving both Ricky and Megan back in opposite directions.
Megan scrambled away from the scorching fire, instinctively clutching the scar on her arm—an indelible memento from the state fair.
The moment that took everything away from me . . .
On the other side of the fire, Vargas got unsteadily to his feet, staggering away from the creature and the overwhelming heat.
“Megan, go!” he bellowed. “Get the hell out of here while one of us has a chance!”
“I’m not leaving you, Ricky!”
“For fuck’s sake, go! now!”
Megan spun toward the exit of the tunnel. It was now or never. And the flames were too high for her to try to save him. She had no choice but to leave.
But I can’t live with myself if I run . . . And I might not live if I don’t . . .
She rubbed the scar on her arm and turned back toward the fire with a newfound determination. Back toward Ricky Vargas.
This time will be different, she promised herself.
But just as last time, she froze. Her body wouldn’t let her move.
Chapter
Thirty-
Four
Flames seared Vargas’s back. Fire, fed by an uncountable number of combustible webs, cut off any chance of an escape to his left or right, engulfing him in a horseshoe of death. He shuffled forward a few inches on one knee, trying to avoid getting burned alive. His other leg was splayed to the side, the calf dripping with blood where the creature’s fangs had stabbed him.
He hissed out a pained breath through clenched teeth. The fangs had punched through his muscle, right to the bone, though he felt none of the weakness that Megan was visibly experiencing. He must have kicked free before the monster injected him with its venom, or maybe hitting the bone kept it from delivering the full dose.
But the agony of the wound and the stench of his singeing hair were nothing compared to what he now faced: the ultimate challenge of his life.
The arachnid stood in front of him, blocking his route. Motionless, as if trying to sense what was happening in its lair as thousands of webs crackled and burned. The flames glinted off its glossy black shell. Two steps forward would bring the fangs into biting range once again. That was probably the spider’s next move.
The wall of fire narrowed Vargas’s possible escape routes to one. He had no choice but to fight the creature head-on, hoping the overstimulation of the inferno around them would dull the spider’s senses enough that he might wound it.
Vargas searched the immediate area for any sharp bones. A few lay close to the arachnid’s legs.
Too risky.
Think, Ricky, you son of a bitch. You always get out of tight spots.
The creature hunched down on its eight legs. Its mouth twitched repeatedly, letting out a creepy chattering sound.
Was it preparing to pounce, or suffering from the overwhelming heat?
Vargas glanced over his shoulder to where Megan had stood. He raised his arm to shield his face from the blazing fire.
He could no longer see her.
She must have run . . . Good.
He couldn’t blame her. After all, he had insisted that she run. How far she would actually get in her present condition was anyone’s guess. Her escape might only delay the inevitable, now that his plan had tanked harder than the New York Jets did almost every season.
He turned back to face the arachnid.
The beady black eyes seemed to stare at him, while its enormous fangs dripped with something that wasn’t blood.
This motherfucker can’t see for shit . . . Right?
He bowed his head for a moment. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Yesterday, he had thought that after this trip he’d be flush with cash and banging college chicks on summer break in Ocean City.
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