by J. C. Diem
“I take it back,” Flynn said solemnly. “If I tried to stomp something that big, it would probably tear my shoe off.”
“I was thinking fire would be a better alternative to stomping,” Mark said with a weak grin.
“Count me in,” I said. “No way am I going to get close to a spider that big.” I believed Mark’s description, but it was hard to picture an arachnid that could grow large enough to eat a snake.
“Do we have a base anywhere near Gavenport?” Flynn asked.
“We do,” Mark confirmed. “It’s about an hour and a half away.” Reece slanted him a wry look. “Make that an hour away,” our boss amended. Reece wasn’t known for sticking to the speed limits. Even now, he was speeding to the airfield where the jet would soon be picking us up.
We reached the airfield with a few minutes to spare. Mark used the time to continue reading the files that Opal had sent him on the spider attack.
“What do we know so far?” Reece asked.
“Very little,” Mark replied. “Some of the townspeople were able to flee, but most were overwhelmed. Police from a nearby city have set up a barricade around Gavenport to keep everyone out. They’re waiting for an entomologist to arrive to tell them whether it is safe to enter the town again. The entomologist is due to arrive sometime this afternoon.”
We heard the jet approaching and I warned Zeus that we would be in the air for a few hours. He rushed over to the grass and emptied his bladder. Fortunately, he didn’t leave anything behind that required a bag. Not that I’d brought any with me.
Once we were on board, I took my laptop out of my backpack and settled into my usual seat. I opened the files that I’d stored on the machine. The music coming from Kala’s and Flynn’s headphones on either side of me bombarded me as I searched for something to read. I sorted Thomas’ missions by topic and browsed through the list. He and Harold had faced hundreds of monsters, some that I hadn’t even heard of.
One of the missions had been titled ‘Puppeteer’. On closer inspection, it wasn’t really a mission at all, but more of a puzzling anomaly that Thomas had noted down in his journal. Since we were facing some kind of puppet master ourselves, maybe reading about Thomas’ strange experience would be helpful. As I became engrossed in the report, the barrage of music faded into the background.
₪₪₪
Chapter Eighteen
Thomas and Harold were in their mid-forties when this event had happened. That was considered to be fairly old four hundred years ago. They’d both married long ago and some of their children were almost old enough to begin working. Some would no doubt join their growing organization. They would one day battle the never-ending stream of monsters that always seemed to be causing havoc.
Tired and worn out from the grueling work of hunting down evil creatures, Thomas had been thinking of retiring for several years. Something always seemed to come up that only he and his best friend, Harold could deal with. Their experience far outweighed that of anyone else they’d recruited during the past twenty-five years. Neither of them could stomach the thought of sending younger men and women to their almost certain deaths just yet.
When they heard of someone in London with the uncanny ability to control puppets seemingly without the use of strings, they thought it was a mere prank. It would make a nice change from having to hunt something down. They went to one of the shows, certain that they’d spot nearly invisible strings animating the puppets.
Word about the miraculous puppeteer had spread. The theater was packed with both adults and children. The stage was glaringly empty when they entered. Settling into their seats at the back row of a small theater, they waited for the show to start.
“The puppeteer must be running late,” Harold grumbled. “It’s rather poor form for him to expect us to wait for him to set up his show.” If the performance was as elaborate as they’d heard, it would take hours to set everything into place.
Before Thomas could respond, the gigantic crystal chandelier hanging overhead was extinguished. Every flame in the theater went out, plunging them into darkness. Seconds later, the flames were reignited. Gasps rang out when the audience saw that the stage was no longer empty. A far larger than usual puppet show had been set up on the stage. Applause sounded, along with delighted laughter.
Thomas and Harold exchanged disturbed looks. They both knew it was impossible for a puppet show to appear out of thin air like that. Or for the flames to become reignited so quickly. Something supernatural was at work here. It seemed this was going to be a hunting job after all.
Two puppets appeared from behind a red curtain to the left of the stage that had been magically erected. They weren’t made of wood, but of sand colored stone. The tallest was about the size of a four year old child. Looking through his spyglass, Thomas went still in shock when he recognized the two figures. One was lean, with a strikingly handsome face. The other was shorter and far plainer. They both wore black suits and white shirts that matched what he and Harold were currently wearing.
“What vile monsters do you think we will face this day, Thomas?” the shorter puppet asked. Harold’s mouth opened when he heard his own voice issuing from the string-less marionette, but he was too shocked to speak.
“I don’t know, Harold,” the Thomas puppet replied. “Something that is in dire need of killing, no doubt.”
It wasn’t particularly funny, but the audience laughed and applauded anyway. Thomas glanced around to see their eyes were glazed and their reactions were slower than normal. “The entire audience has been bewitched,” he whispered to his friend.
“Not quite,” Harold refuted. “Our minds still seem to be clear.”
Thomas nodded in grim agreement. “I believe this show is meant for just the two of us, old friend. Someone apparently has a message that they wish to impart to us.”
“Is it a witch, do you think?” They’d come across more than a few witches during their line of work. Each one had different tricks at their disposal.
Thomas shrugged uneasily. “I do not know. We will have to watch and see what unfolds.”
A large stone dog with three heads scampered out from behind the curtain to the right. It was a miniature version of Cerberus, but neither of them had ever actually encountered the monster that guarded the entrance to the underworld before. If this show wasn’t depicting their past, perhaps it was meant to be an indication of their future.
“Hark,” the Harold puppet cried. “Here comes a foul beast now! Let us dispatch it immediately so that we may wipe its blight from this world!”
Harold leaned in to speak to Thomas. “Do I really sound like that?” he asked in mild embarrassment.
Thomas spared a glance for his friend. “Of course not. Whoever is running this show is mocking us both.” Relieved that he didn’t really sound that pompous, Harold settled back in his seat again.
Both of the stone puppets pulled their swords and fought the dog. Fake sounds of awe and fright were forced out of the watching crowd as all three of the hound’s heads were lopped off.
“That cur was no match for us!” the Harold marionette crowed in triumph. Then another creature appeared. This one was in the shape of a five headed snake. Other stone monsters crawled, slid, flew or scuttled out from behind the curtain. The Cerberus broke down then re-formed, becoming whole and unharmed again.
The monsters circled around to surround the two puppet men. The middle head of the snake swiveled around and looked directly at Thomas. “You and your pitiful organization will never be able to defeat me,” it said in a sibilant hiss. “No matter how many people join you, I will raise more minions to overwhelm you. A war is coming and I will win. I will destroy humanity utterly and there is nothing you can do to stop me.”
Thomas went pale when he realized this play had been put on for his benefit alone. He watched in horror as both his and Harold’s clones were struck down. Their bodies were trampled as the monsters turned towards the backdrop of a town. It changed from bein
g just a painting into a real, if tiny, town. People fled screaming onto the streets and were killed by the marauding stone creatures. As they fell, their broken bodies were pieced back together then they turned on their kin.
In short order, the town had been decimated and the entire population had become zombies. The golems headed towards another distant village that could just be seen on the horizon. The undead shambled along in their wake. The five headed hydra paused and looked directly at Thomas again, somehow picking him out of the throng. It seemed to grin before it slithered after the others.
“Well,” Harold said brightly as the curtain dropped to hide the disturbing scene, “that was a rather enjoyable show. We should bring our wives to see it next time.”
Thomas turned to see his friend’s eyes were now as glazed as the rest of the audience. The thought of bringing his wife along alarmed him even if she wouldn’t remember the show afterwards. “Yes,” he said and forced a smile. “I’m sure they’d enjoy it immensely.” He had no intention of ever setting foot in this place again. He’d do his damnedest to make sure that everyone he cared about stayed away as well.
On their way out the door, he glanced at the stage to see that it was empty again. There was no trace of the puppets or of the miniature stage that had been erected. No mention was ever made of the show again and Harold seemed to have lost all memory of the event. Only Thomas recalled the strange performance that had taken place in the theater.
A very strange woman by the name of Zisa had once told him that he would face a battle sometime in the future, but that war had never occurred. Fatigue and depression filled Thomas when he realized he was too old to face whatever the threat was now. Twenty years ago he would have been up to the task, but he was now past his prime. Someone else would have to take up the mantle.
He pitied whoever would be chosen to face that fate. Even with all of his experience, he wouldn’t have wanted to be responsible for saving the entire human race from extinction.
₪₪₪
Chapter Nineteen
Dread settled into my stomach as I closed the file. For once, Reece didn’t seem to be aware of my distress. When I glanced down at the laptop, the journal entry had disappeared. I searched through the archives for anything with the word puppeteer in it, but it came up blank.
Apparently, someone was messing with my head. The message hadn’t been meant for Thomas, it had been directed at me. Reece was being blocked from receiving the message that no matter what I did, I would fail. This was my burden alone to bear.
We were approaching the airfield before I finally managed to quiet my panic. It was well after midday by the time we landed in Florida. As expected, it was much warmer here. Everyone but Mark stripped off their jackets as soon as we disembarked from the jet. We removed our holsters as well and slipped our guns into a pocket of our cargo pants. We didn’t want to make it too obvious that we were armed and dangerous. At a glance, the four of us could almost have passed for an ordinary group of young adults. Only close inspection would reveal that we were anything but normal.
Kala opened her mouth and Mark held up his hand before she could speak. “Let me guess. You’re starving and you want to stop for food?”
“Wow,” she said in pretend awe. “It’s like you can read my mind.” She’d eaten her way through half of the candy he’d bought, but boredom tended to make her snack more frequently.
“I just know you too well,” he said wryly. “We’ll stop somewhere on the way to our base.”
As efficient as always, he’d arranged for an SUV to be waiting for us. Our compound had no doubt been cleaned and stocked with food and other essential items that we’d need during our stay. The Cleanup Crew were stationed all over the country. They could almost always be dispatched to wherever we needed them.
We took to the road and I watched the scenery flow past. Florida reminded me a little of where I’d lived in Texas. There were no deserts, of course, but the landscape was just as flat and devoid of hills. We stayed near the ocean and the salt smell permeated the car. It wasn’t unpleasant, I just hadn’t spent much time near the coast and I wasn’t used to it.
After a short drive, we stopped at a small town and trooped into a café. Zeus sat near the door and salivated at the tempting smells that were wafting through the opening. This time, I ordered him a burger rather than making him wait. We took seats outside and Zeus snatched the burger up almost before I could set it on the ground.
“I thought he was going to take your arm off for a minute there,” Flynn said with a grin.
“He’s almost as bad as Kala,” Reece said.
Hunched over her plate and stuffing food into her mouth, she shot him a glare. “You take that back!” she said, or at least that was what it sounded like. A hunk of meat fell out of her mouth and Zeus lunged forward to catch it.
“It’s almost like they were separated at birth,” Flynn murmured.
“Kindred spirits,” I agreed.
Realizing no one was going to back her up, she muttered something beneath her breath and resumed eating.
When we’d finished our meals, we ordered coffee to go and hit the road again. Mark checked his watch. “Gavenport is only half an hour away from here. We should probably head straight there rather than detouring to our base first.” His reluctance was obvious and I mentally applauded his bravery.
“It would be sensible to search the town while there’s still daylight,” Reece agreed. “I’m sure none of us wants to be there come nightfall.”
Mark flinched at the idea of walking through a town that might still be infested with spiders while darkness held sway. Our night vision was excellent, but his was poor. He wouldn’t even see the arachnids before they sprang at him from the shadows.
Staying on the coastal road, we headed southward towards Gavenport. A roadblock stopped us about a mile away from the town. A long line of vehicles stretched out ahead of us. Gawkers had heard the news and had come from neighboring towns in the hopes of seeing the devastation. I would never understand the morbid curiosity that drove humankind.
Unwilling to risk being trapped by traffic approaching behind us, Reece swung the SUV around and parked in a field next to the road. A police officer hurried over to us as we climbed out. Average height and unfit, he was puffing by the time he reached us. “You can’t park there!” he said loudly.
“I think you’ll find that we can,” Mark replied coolly and showed the man his ID. “Who is in charge here?”
The cop barely had enough time to read the ID before it was whipped out of sight and back into Mark’s jacket again. “Captain Darnell is in charge,” he replied in a more respectful tone. “He’s at the front of the barricades.”
He hiked his thumb over his shoulder to where two trucks were parked back to back across the road. They were blocking most of the town from our view. All we could see were the backyards of a few houses and an old port that hadn’t been used in decades. Nothing seemed amiss, but we’d know more once we talked our way past the cops.
A white van pulled up next to our SUV. The cop threw his hands in the air in annoyance. “You can’t park here!” he shouted when a tall, lanky man climbed out.
“Relax, officer,” the newcomer said. “I’m the entomologist. I’m supposed to be here.”
“Enta what?” the cop asked in confusion.
“He’s the bug guy,” Flynn said. “An insect expert.”
“I’m also an arachnologist.” At our blank looks, he explained. “I study spiders as well as insects.”
“I thought spiders were insects,” the cop said.
“It’s a common mistake,” the scientist said with a look of pity at his lack of knowledge. “Spiders are actually arthropods, or more commonly known as arachnids. They are an entirely different species from insects.” I wasn’t about to admit my ignorance that I’d always thought spiders were just another type of bug.
“Oh.” The cop debated about it then shrugged. “Welcome to the party,
bug guy.” He clapped the scientist on the shoulder then turned and jogged back to the growing line of cars. A few drivers had decided to copy us and were angling towards the field. He stepped in front of the first car to block it and put his hand on his gun threateningly. We’d managed to get away with parking in the field, but no one else was going to.
The entomologist held his hand out to Mark. He accurately guessed by his dark suit and regulation short hair that he was in charge. “I’m Dr. Mitchell Salvador. Are you in charge here?”
“Agent Mark Steel,” Mark replied. “We’re just here to lend a hand, if we can.”
Nodding, Mitchell turned to the rest of us. He did a quick sweep of our faces then did a double take when he saw Kala. “Well, hello, beautiful.” He stepped forward, took Kala’s hand and planted a kiss on the back of it.
She assessed him for a second then gave him the smile that I knew meant they’d end up naked together. Dr. Salvador was in his early thirties, had shaggy blond hair and a prominent Adam’s apple. His mischievous blue eyes were magnified by thick glasses. He wore tight black jeans and a tan sweater that would have been at home on someone’s grandfather. He wasn’t handsome in the conventional sense, but he had a certain charm that Kala obviously found attractive. She’d been interested in tall blond men with blue eyes lately. Men like my father, in fact. I automatically scowled at that. Reece tried and failed to hide a smile when he caught that thought.
“I’m Agent Kala Walker,” she said in something close to a purr.
“Yes, you certainly are,” he replied.
Mark broke in before their pheromones could overwhelm us all. “Flirt later. We need to see if it’s safe to enter the town. There might be survivors who need our help.”