Arachnosaur

by Richard Jeffries

  Key kept moving, without pausing, his eyes scouring the Aquarium visitors like laser pointers.

  “No one,” he said to Daniels without looking at him. “Man, woman, or child, comes near us. They’ll want it to look like an accident. But if they can’t, they might try some cellblock shit.”

  “Oooo,” Daniels said just behind and beside him. “Goody.”

  No one else stumbled or turned toward them in the Aquarium, even by accident. Key nodded sharply, figuring that into his trap conjecture.

  “They’ll be at every exit,” he said like making lunch plans.

  “Roger,” Daniels said.

  Key slammed through the nearest one, crying, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know!” That was enough to get shoppers looking quizzically in his direction, and the two hired killers waiting against the wall on either side of the door to look surprised.

  Key stared at the one nearest him—another merc in a suit—with an expression he hoped communicated a simple question. What’s more important to you: your payment or your life?

  As the man’s face set and he came at him, Key realized it was the wrong question. Wasn’t the payment that was important to this idiot, it was his pride. That’s all killers had. That’s why they were stupid killers.

  Key called it the ninja conundrum. In real life, ninja were miserable wretches with no place on Earth and none in Heaven. All they had was their willingness to do dishonorable things for corrupt masters, which marked them as sad, stupid, and defeatable if you knew what you were doing.

  Key worked very hard to keep learning what he was doing.

  Given the parameters, Key felt certain these hirelings were working under, it was likely that the man would try to accidentally stumble, slam Key against the wall, and, with his body covering Key from view, shove a pin under his sternum or up his nose. Anywhere else, like his ear or eye, would be witnessed.

  The combination defense and counterattack was therefore obvious. Key waited for the man to stumble, then turned, shifted, and slipped just outside the man’s spreading arms, so close, in fact, that the man’s fingerprints slid along Key’s jacket, and then he let the man’s head collide with the mall wall.

  Of course, it didn’t hurt that Key’s right ankle had somehow crossed the man’s right ankle, and Key’s left hand, in his attempt to help the man, had actually vaulted him harder and faster. It didn’t hurt Key, at any rate.

  With a quick glance out his peripheral vision to make sure Daniels wasn’t still dancing with his assassin, Key kept moving. They were on the first floor. They needed to get up to the second where Faisal had parked the Renault.

  Daniels wasn’t still dancing. He was back just behind and beside Key.

  “What did you do to him?” Key muttered.

  “I stumbled first,” Daniels said into Key’s ear. “The pin went into his own thigh. Pretty much down to his knee. These guys are either well paid, well trained, or both. He didn’t make a peep. You should’ve seen his face, though.”

  The sergeant considered asking escalator or stairs but realized the answer before speaking. They would stay in public view, because that limited their enemy’s options. Causing a public scene, and risking innocent bystanders, would shift all that oil money from construction to bringing the wrath of heaven down on whoever dared disturb Dubai’s tourism.

  “The closer we get to escaping, the more desperate they’ll get,” Key said as he hopped on the escalator.

  “Tell me about it,” Daniels retorted, right behind him. They each stood, with one leg bent on a higher step, so each took up two escalator stairs, giving them more room to move, and less room for anyone to attack. “Don’t I know it. Cellblock shit at twelve o’clock.”

  They both saw one, two, three, and then four suited men congregating at the top of the escalator, waiting for them. They were spread far enough apart that the people exiting in front of the marines didn’t think twice about them, but, as Key and Daniels neared, the quartet got tighter, leaving them nowhere to go. Or so the killers thought.

  “Alley oop?” Key queried.

  “Of course alley oop,” Daniels replied with exaggerated certainty. “Alley—” he said as he webbed his fingers together and held them down at his crotch.

  “—Oop,” Key responded as he put his hands on Daniels’s shoulders, and his foot in Daniels’s palm stirrup. Daniels threw his hands skyward as Key dove upward.

  The suited men at the top of the escalator stepped back, their mouths agape, as Key was vaulted into the air over them.

  Daniels almost laughed as he saw them struggle to figure out what to do. They may have been well-trained, but not well-trained enough to instantly decide who would handle Key and who would handle Daniels.

  Especially when Daniels cried out, “Oh! I’m so sorry,” as he accidentally sent a woman into the suited men nearest him.

  Key enjoyed watching the confusion, even panic, on the men’s faces before he delivered the final blow.

  “Look out!” he cried, pointing frantically. “A knife! Help, help, they’ve got knives!”

  Daniels accidentally slammed the nearest suited man’s hand between his hip and the escalator wall, while keeping his balance by sinking his fingers into the man’s hair, then yanking as if pulling a parachute’s ripcord.

  People were screaming and scurrying as security guards came running, while a suited man tumbled down the metal escalator stairs, the shiv hidden up his sleeve spinning out for all to see.

  By then Key stood far away from the action, moving quickly backwards to make sure none of the remaining suited men pursued him. One was cracking his skull on the escalator stairs, one was beneath a writhing, shrieking female shopper, the third was sidling along the balustrade in the opposite direction, while the last stood amongst the chaos, staring in shock and anger at Key as he was backing away.

  The fourth man took an impotent step toward the corporal, but stopped when he saw Key stop as well, lower his chin, and shake his head sadly. One second afterwards, the fourth man grimaced, teeth grinding, then fell to his knees, and, finally, to his face. Daniels came out from behind the man and joined Key at the garage entrance.

  “Poor guy,” he said, “He fall down, go boom.”

  “Roger that,” Gonzales said, to their great relief, in their ears. “They tried to surprise me with silencers, coming from two sides. But they should have wondered why the driver’s seat was empty.”

  “Details later,” Key interrupted, hurrying toward the parking space. “We’ve got to get back.”

  “What’s up?” Daniels asked, still just behind and beside him. “Looks like we got things under control.”

  Up ahead, Key saw Faisal slithering out from his lookout spot beneath the SUV, and jumping back behind the wheel. Daniels saw Gonzales open the side door for them, revealing two motionless bodies on the floor of the vehicle.

  “The trap was set by Toussaint and Awar.” Key seethed as he ran the last few yards to the Renault. “But it was on information supplied by—”

  “Shit!” Faisal cried as he gunned the motor to life, then tromped the accelerator almost before Daniels and Key had leapt in.

  Chapter 25

  The man who had dropped Saad Al-Abbasi to his death prayed for death.

  Not his own. He prayed for death to all the infidels who disagreed with him, and he prayed for death for everyone who opposed his master and leader Usa Awar. He prayed for death to all the non-believers. He prayed for death to any one he wanted to die.

  The man who prayed for others’ deaths no longer had the name forced upon him at birth. In actuality, he had the same name as all his brothers who shared the responsibility to protect this nest. His name was Malud Bin Awar, which meant born the son of Awar. They were all Malud Bin Awar.

  This Malud Bin Awar savored the feeling of power his prayers for others’ deaths gave him. He fed o
n the feeling that his dedication to his leader’s cause bestowed upon him. He had done, and would do, whatever his abu, father, asked of him.

  For years, he’d felt unhappy because his abu had not yet asked him to give his life for the cause. Every time another was sent out with a knife, gun, or bomb, never to return, he’d felt regret because it hadn’t been him.

  But the reward was worth it. When Master Awar found this nest and created this cave, he blessed his dedicated servant with one of the most important posts and positions. Malud had witnessed the creation of the Holy Gate he guarded. He had nearly even helped construct it until master Awar insisted it be touched only by the most proficient engineers.

  “It has to be secure beyond secure,” Usa Awar Abu Jmye, father of all, had said. “It must be fail-safe beyond fail-safe, foolproof beyond foolproof.” And it was. The father of them all had seen to it. Why else would he have left his beloved, honored, children behind to protect the nest if it were not?

  But the Holy Gate’s perfection did not diminish this Malud’s watchfulness. The Holy Cavern had no seats, but it did not require any. This Malud gained strength from letting the holy energy of the nest fill him. To this moment, he marveled at the technology within this place. The suddenly transparent walls, the magically appearing images fed from miles around.

  Even so, these things were not his concern. His concern was only to ensure that the seal of the Holy Gate remain intact. That those bringers of justice within remain content and secure.

  This Malud Bin Awar was certain of that indisputable fact. So certain that he would spend minutes, even hours, kneeling in prayer for his master’s success and his enemies’ deaths. Hours facing the entrance to the Holy Gate, his powerful, protecting back to the seal.

  He was so certain he didn’t even open his eyes when he heard a click from behind him that he had never heard before. He knew there was no reason for concern. His brothers were assigned to continually study the security cameras’ video screens. If anything was unusual within the nest, they would have alerted him.

  So this Malud Bin Awar was slow to turn toward the Holy Gate. But when he did he sprang to his feet, clutching at the AK-47 Master Awar had entrusted to him.

  The seal was not broken, but it was sprung, and trying to crawl out of the air lock was an Idmonarachne Brasieri. This Malud had never seen one before. They hadn’t even let him watch what happened to Al-Abbasi after he had forced the traitor into the rubber-raft-like interior of the Gate and slammed the air lock door upon him.

  This Malud told himself he should not be frightened of the thing his master called arachnosaur. They were merely tools of his divine vengeance. But he was. It was even bigger than he imagined. The four moist, stubbled tubes that made up its face quivered in an unnatural way, and its many black, dead, marbleized eyes seemed to tear into the guard’s brain. One of its eight long spider legs was already tapping the cavern floor. As this Malud watched, another leg came springing into view, as if pulling itself from a net.

  This Malud gripped his automatic weapon, his flesh already crawling and covered in sweat, but he did not pull the trigger.

  “Brothers!” he cried in his native tongue. “Brothers! The seal is broken! The Holy Gate is breached! What should I do? Stop, or protect the master’s instruments of righteousness? What should I do?”

  When the thing’s third leg scratched out of the opening, this Malud stepped back, unnatural, unwanted, unexpected fear freezing him. It wasn’t the sight or sound of the creature that did it. It was its unnatural, inhuman, incompatible energy, throbbing from it in invisible waves.

  This Malud started to scream “brothers” again, but the word ended in a cry of childlike terror as his fingers spastically clenched. The AK-47 barked in his hands, its bullets splattering the Plasticine-covered sand, ricocheting off the metal lip of the gate, and splattering against the wall.

  Then the arachnosaur was free. It both leaped and scurried forward, its eight spider legs traveling in a terrible rhythm. This Malud only had a second to feel the literal creepiness of its suprahuman movement, as if it was progressing between reality rather than in it, before its first foreleg stabbed into his stomach.

  Then, in far less than a second, all the legs were in him, ripping, cutting, tearing, and scrambling. His scream would have shaken the cavern had the thing’s first leg not split him from navel to chin in one smooth, uninterrupted slice, rendering his larynx useless.

  But his brothers had heard his earlier cries. Two who guarded the outside entrance to the Holy Gate came running in, their weapons at the ready. They stopped, confused, when they saw the arachnosaur standing in what looked like a dissected life raft. But then they realized it was a life raft with a human skull.

  In the instant they were watching, the thing’s pincer-like legs punctured Malud’s eyes like squeezed grapes, and flayed open his face as if it were a rubber mask.

  They opened fire, but the thing was already moving, spraying blood and guts like Silly String and confetti as it scurried. It came at the first one on the right, but just as the terrified second man started shooting without aiming, it darted toward the second. That made the first man swing too fast and too far, just missing the arachnosaur, but spraying the second man’s hips and stomach with bullets.

  He staggered, screaming, his own AK-47 swinging from ceiling to floor as the creature leaped onto the first man, its legs opening like a maw, turning the guard’s torso into a blood splattered, bone-spinning, gut-erupting blossom.

  By then many other Malud Bin Awars had spilled into the Holy Gate antechamber, skidding to a stop from all the screams and blood that splashed the entrance frame and puddled on the floor. Without a word, the half-dozen cavern guards gathered in the far entrance like a panic-stricken firing squad, their weapons aimed and ready.

  The screaming just within the far chamber stopped, and the blood stilled. The men waited, for what seemed like minutes. Finally, the one nearest the chamber stepped forward, lowering his head to try peering beyond the wall. Naturally, it was at that moment that the arachnosaur sped out.

  All six men opened fire. For a brain-freezing moment, they misjudged the creature’s expected speed, and all their rounds ripped up the floor just beyond the monster. It seemed as if a spider’s leg would pierce the first man, but then the fourth pulled his aim back and down, and his bullets pounded into the beast’s bulbous, pulsating, upraised abdomen.

  They all winced at the sound of an unnatural screeching, but drowned it out by adjusting their aim and pouring all the bullets all six weapons had left into the pulverized body of the thing. Black blood spat out as it shuddered and danced in the veritable cloud of lead. But finally the guns were empty and the thing was still.

  By then more men had gathered, virtually from every department of the enclave.

  “What should we do?” asked the one who operated communications. “What should we tell his holiness?”

  The first guard, who had nearly been punctured, dared to poke at the arachnosaur carcass with the barrel of his AK-47.

  It was just a spider, he thought. Nothing but a big spider. Emboldened, he spoke directly to the communications man.

  “Report the truth! There has been a momentary breach of security, but it has been corrected.All is in readiness for the master leader’s return.”

  Satisfied, the men began returning to their posts. The first guard instructed several nearby guards to clean up the Holy Gate guard’s remains. When one asked who should replace the fallen martyr, the first guard replied with certainty.

  “I shall. I am the only one worthy.”

  No one argued the point, so the first guard went to reload his weapon before taking up his new position. As he went he saw the communications man returning to his own post, but, while doing so, behaving strangely. He waved next to his head as if shooing an insect.

  The first guard thought nothing of it until
, during his walk back to the Holy Gate chamber, he saw a few other guards doing the same thing.

  The incident must have effected their nerves, he thought. I shall inform the master upon his return. We of true faith need fear no nerves. We need fear nothing, for we are blessed in the light of our leader.

  The first guard continued on his righteous path, until he felt something light and thin brush his hair. Instinctively he waved his hand at it, then realized what he’d just done. He stopped dead in his tracks. He turned to look at the others nearby, but before he could see if they were doing it too, he felt another filmy strand touch his cheek.

  He quickly pinched at it, then looked down to where his forefinger and thumb met. At first he saw nothing, but then the unnatural light of the cave’s LED fixtures caught some sort of clear, diaphanous, gossamer hair.

  He felt a chill, but then heat. He looked up.

  The arachnosaur nearest him—one of many—dropped down from where they were crawling upside-down on the cavern ceiling.

  They had, over a span of days, camouflaged the edge of the nest’s security camera lens nearest the ceiling air-lock opening, then spun finer and finer webs to force the supposedly unbreachable lower seal wider and wider until their bulbous bodies could fit within it. Then an ever-rotating series of creatures started constructing another wedge in the plastic and steel mechanism of the upper lock. It took time, but they had plenty of it. And when the first freed arachnosaur created a diversion, the others had also crawled out.

  The first guard may have screamed. But the horrid noise that resulted also could have been part of the sounds the creature atop him made when spiking open his skull. Ultimately, it was irrelevant because those sounds were quickly overwhelmed by the symphony of wholesale slaughter combined with the thudding detonations of human circulatory systems.

  Chapter 26

  The man started shooting as soon as he entered the shelter.

  He was dressed as any Emirate, in kandora robe, ghutrah head scarf, agal headband, and bisht cloak, but with an extra gauzy black scarf to obscure most of his face. He also gripped a silenced Glock 19 compact automatic and was using it, although far from indiscriminately.