A new sense of fear and duty coursed through Shumba’s veins. It had been honor enough to finally be left alone to collect the honey, but now to be asked to join the men as they ventured into danger for the good of the jungle, it was an overwhelming feeling. He knew he must do this, because it was his rite to manhood. That, and he needed to know more about this legend his father spoke of.
Just what did his father know about these giant spiders?
“I will go with you, father. Tell me what I need to do?”
“Good boy. First, we will need weapons. Go into the house and get the biggest machetes we have. Bring them back here. We will be leaving shortly.”
As the sun finally hit the highest point in the sky, Dr. Gerard McPherson decided to break for lunch. He and his assistant had been documenting the behavior of a new family of Bonobos that had migrated to edge of the river. He was curious to see if they would cross the river where it thinned and the trees connected over it. As of yet the Bonobos had stayed away from the water, which was no real surprise; as a species that couldn’t swim, they often steered clear of the river.
He’d dubbed the leader Matilda, after his own daughter back in Glasgow. This alpha female ran a tight ship, and was no stranger to raising her long arms to the males to assert her dominance. All the Bonobos in this family, both male and female, gave her a wide berth.
“We have plantains, crisps, and a couple of cold ham sandwiches,” said Constance, the young graduate student who had won the right to assist Dr. McPherson on this trip. She held up the sandwiches from the cooler, each one in a Ziploc bag.
Dr. McPherson was in no mood for anything she’d mentioned. What he wanted was some haddock and chips, followed by a cold pint of Belhaven. As much as he loved his research, he was getting homesick. They’d been in the Congo for two weeks now studying these primates, and aside from some unique moments of uncharacteristic Bonobo social behavior involving feces and biting, he was getting bored.
Currently, up in the tree in front of him, two Bonobos were engaged in coitus, a popular way for the species to settle disputes. “Make Love, Not War” was the Bonobo state of mind. And since there was quite a bit of arguing among Bonobos, studying a group of them up close was like watching a live-action—and very hairy—porno film.
“Don’ want none o that shite,” he muttered. Then, realizing he was letting his mood get the better of him, he reached for one of the sandwiches. “But no more o those jobbies there,” he said, referring to the plantains.
“Yer in a right good mood.” Constance dropped the sandwich in his lap and sat done in the foldout chair next to him. She stuck a straw into a juice box and took a sip.
They watched the Bonobos through binoculars for a minute or two. Same old, same old. Lots of lazing about, fucking and munching on twigs. What an easy life; it made one wish evolution had never reared its problematic head.
Dr. McPherson grabbed his notebook to make a note. His pencil broke when it touched paper. “Connie, be a mate and get me a pencil from the pack.”
With a huff, Constance put her sandwich down and hauled herself up. A second later she flew back past Dr. McPherson, wrapped up in the legs of something large and hairy. Dr. McPherson froze with fear and confusion, listening to Connie’s screams as she was held to the ground and savaged by some kind of unimaginable beast.
With eight legs and a strand of silk trailing behind it.
Blood arced up into the trees and Constance’s arms and legs went still under the animal.
The Bonobos screamed at the intruder and tore up into the trees. Before Dr. McPherson could find the strength in his legs to rise and run, another of the giant black arachnids raced past him and leapt high into the trees. The alpha female of the Bonobo family, Matilda, snapped branches from the tree and hurled it at the beast but it did not deter its advance. Everywhere now, apes leapt from tree to tree, retreating further into the jungle. The spider followed in kind. With an eerie gracefulness it leapt from tree top to tree top, once nearly falling but wrapping its legs around the trunk to pull itself up. It was focused on Matilda, who was swinging on branches, zooming higher up into the canopy. She swung and it leapt. She swung again and it leapt again. The chase was on. As fast as Matilda could swing the spider was even faster, like a race car exploding through the branches, clinging with the advantage of its multiple legs, propelling itself forward with each leap. Poor Matilda was frantic, screaming, losing her grip as fear overtook her, just managing to hang on thanks to her long arms. Finally she disappeared into the greenery of the canopy. The spider leapt into the foliage and was lost as well.
Until a moment later, when it came jumping out of the treetops with Matilda in its legs.
With a mighty leap it crashed back to the ground next to the other spider looming over Constance’s ragdoll body. Only that first spider was no longer concerned with the dead girl under its legs, Dr. McPherson noted. Frozen in awe, he’d been following the treetop chase, and he’d failed to notice that the first spider was indeed watching him now.
“Oh…bollocks.”
The spider catapulted itself toward him, caught him, and began to feast
***
She wasn’t sure why she screamed. Something about the enormous hole in the ground in front of Janet simply scared the hell out of her. It was a bottomless pit some hundred meters in diameter. A huge fucking hole that led down into sheer blackness. She stood on a three-foot wide ledge that ran the perimeter of it, realizing there was no safe way down.
Gellis emerged from the crack behind her, his arm on Moyo’s shoulder, pulling the wounded man out. “Why do you scream?”
Janet regained her composure, pressed back against the rock wall behind her. “I almost fell in. I’m fine now.” She looked over Gellis’ shoulder, into the crack they’d just squeezed through. “Did they…”
Gellis shook his head. “They did not follow. I do not think they could fit.”
Together they looked up at the opening of the mountain above. It was too high to climb out of with just the gear they had on them. Trees swayed overhead, and beyond them radiant sunlight and puffs of cloud lit the sky. The sunlight’s warmth was a minor blessing.
Janet listened for screams from the camp, which she knew couldn’t be too far away from that hole, but there were no sounds. Everyone must be dead, she thought.
“So now what?” she asked. “Can’t get up there, and I wouldn’t want to anyway. Except to get my phone form the Jeep, maybe.”
“If the Jeep is still there,” Gellis added.
Janet kicked a stone off the ledge and watched it drop into the darkness of the mountain’s interior. It took several seconds before a faint clack resonated on some rocky surface somewhere. “That’s a long way down.”
“We will have to use the ropes.”
“Are you nuts? There’s no professional climbing gear in that bag. No carabiners, no cams, no proper shoes.”
Gellis emptied the contents of the bag, careful not to jostle the dynamite. “I think you are right.” Without the cams the only thing they could do is leave one person up top to lower another down. Janet cast a calculating eye on Gellis’ burly figure, he was certainly strong enough…but could she trust him.
***
It was a dangerous plan, Gellis thought; if something attacked him he’d just end up dropping her. Which brought up the question of whether she’d even put aside her prejudice long enough to let him lower her. She probably figured he was some crazed simpleton who would drop her on purpose. It would be better to secure the rope to something and both climb down together, with himself carrying Moyo on his back.
He held the rope up to Janet. “I can rig it to the rock if you give me some time. Can you climb down a rope?”
“Of course I can climb down. I have survival skills too, you know. You think I’d come up into these Godforsaken mountains and not know how to handle myself. But what the hell are you gonna rig it to? I don’t see anything strong enough.”
Ignoring her arrogance, Gellis studied the wall behind them. He ran his hand over the crannies and ridges. “I think I need to go back in there—” he pointed at the crack they’d come through— “and tie it to the rocks in there. A bollard.”
“You’re gonna go back in there? What about those things?”
“I pray they are not still stuck in there.” With that, Gellis disappeared back into the fissure, leaving Janet alone on the rim of the hole with Moyo.
***
She looked at the small man’s chest and saw his shirt was doused in blood, his breathing very labored. He wouldn’t look her in the eye, simply stared out into nothing. It would be so much simpler to just leave him behind, she thought. She really couldn’t give two fucks if he survived or not. All of these people did nothing but kill each other anyway; if he survived this he’d just rob or rape someone soon enough. She didn’t trust any of them.
“Miss…” Gellis’ voice drifted out from the crack.
“Yeah. What?”
His hand flew out of the crack and startled her. She shrieked and jumped back.
He poked his head out. “Sorry to frighten you. I simply need you to give me the other rope so I can tie them together.”
She obliged, all the while keeping her distance. When Gellis was back in the crack he asked “Why are you afraid of me? I will not hurt you.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Antoine. It’s you who should be afraid of me. Don’t forget I carry a lot of weight in these parts.”
Gellis laughed. “I don’t know about that. I believe your father carries some weight, because he paid off the rebels to leave us alone while we worked.”
“My father didn’t pay off any rebels. You should get your facts straight.”
“So you say. The rebels control the other mines around here. All the mines in the DRC are controlled by the rebels. That is just the way it is.”
“Well not this one. And this isn’t a mine, it’s a mountain. If we ever get the hell out of here we’ll turn it into a mine.”
“If and when you do, the rebels will demand even more payment. You cannot take what they need.”
Janet knew well of the rebels Gellis referred to: The Hutu, the Tutsi, countless others. It was the reason her father had hired Winston and his merry band of mercenaries to keep peace. “Well we need it too. This mountain belongs to no one. Whatever it holds is fair game.”
“You tell that to them, I do not think they will see the same way. To them, whatever is in here is their only means of funding their war. My people die in this war, you know.”
“I don’t need your sob story, Gellis. You didn’t have to come work for me. Nobody forced your hand.”
“Is that what you believe? Miss, if I don’t work for you, then I must work for them. Only difference is they beat me before they pay me.”
“We’re not a rebel outfit, so stop trying to make me feel bad. You’ll get paid for your work. If we get out of this.”
Another chuckle from inside the crack. “And you think that money will come to me?”
“The money will go in your hand.”
“And it will be taken from my hand as soon as I go home. The rebels will find every one of us working on this project, and beat us, and take the money and force us to go work for them in the mines elsewhere. This is how it works. I told you I don’t care about the gold, not because I was trying to belay your suspicion, but because the truth is I would be killed if I was found to have gold. I would be killed if I took anything home from these mountains with me. Working for you, it gives me a chance to feel normal again for a bit. But when you leave, my friends and I will end up, now or later, in another mine, for wages that do not buy a single meal a week.”
This is not what I need right now, Janet thought. She was not here to try and solve a civil war, she was here to extract gold and get back to Cape Town where she could relax on the beach with a beer before driving home in her Maserati. Like her father always said, the world’s problems were not theirs to solve. It’s every man for himself.
“Tell you what, Gellis,” she sighed, “how about I pay you with a plane ticket. No one’ gonna take that from you. Then you can go anywhere you want. Get that rope secure and I’ll keep that promise.”
“And what of my wife?”
Janet didn’t respond. She’d never figured Gellis to be a married man. Truth was she didn’t think about him much at all. “I didn’t know you were married.”
“For seven years. She is my love.”
“Well, I suppose I could get you two tickets. But look, this is still an employer employee relationship, got me? Don’t think I care too much about your problems. We’ve all got problems.”
“I suppose so.”
A few seconds passed. Janet found the silence to be worse than the conversation. Staring at Moyo’s quietly rasping body was creepy. “So your wife…she, uh, like a housewife or something?”
Gellis finally popped back out of the crack, one end of the rope in his hand. “No, she does not do much of anything, in fact.”
“What? She lazy or something?”
“I do not wish to talk about it. The rope is ready.” He threw it over the edge and waited until it settled. “I don’t know how far down it goes but if it can get us to a lower level somehow we can try to find the water again.”
“Way ahead of you,” Janet said. “Give me the light. I’m going first and I want to see what’s before me.” She took the headlamp from Gellis and secured it tightly. She sat down on the edge of the pit, wrapped her leg around the rope and let it fall over her right foot. She put her left on top to create a support system and lowered herself down. Her headlamp threw circles of white on the dark rock surrounding her.
With a grunt, Gellis came down above her, Moyo piggybacking him. Janet hoped the rope would hold all three of them, otherwise they’d fall to an unknown death.
The going was slow, and every few feet Janet would look down the center again and try to see the bottom, but even her headlight was swallowed in a blackness so deep she might as well have had her eyes shut. The rope chafed her palms and the muscles in her legs grew tight and tired. She was in good shape but hadn’t expected to be climbing down pits when she’d agreed to head this project. When she got back home she was going to have to hit the gym some more.
She dropped another two feet and heard something that made the hairs rise on her neck. She waited with bated breath, hoping against hope she’d heard wrong. Hoping it was just Gellis’ movements above her echoing off the rocky walls of this tunnel. Hoping it was just more scurrying cockroaches or a colony of bats. It grew more distinct now, and her hope died as the thudda thudda of marching feet became apparent.
“Shh,” Gellis whispered.
“Oh fuck,” she whispered back.
She looked down, let her headlight trace the inner walls of the darkness below her. One hundred and eighty degrees behind her, on the opposite side of the pit, she saw them down below, coming up fast.
Hordes of giant spiders, clinging to the walls, racing up in a shadowy wave that defied anything else in the animal kingdom.
***
The paths through the rainforest were marked in ways that only Shumba and his tribe could discern. A marker here spoke of a good place to lay a snare, a marker there warned of unstable terrain. Shumba’s tribe was one of only a few that had chosen to live so high up and so far away from the Wild East in recent years, pushed further into the jungle by the rampant fighting and genocide. Sadly, even this high up in the mountains where there still existed a semblance of unchartered evolution, the jungle revealed the passage of more civilized trespassers. Cigarette butts from Uganda and Rwanda (often times smoked by the guerrilla rebels), a plastic fork from the bag lunch of some naturalist who thought he was saving the environment, and even old rusted bikes from traders trying in vain to lead white missionaries to wildlife and vista views. Many times these traders simply robbed the tourists. Other times, they met their end at the hands of rebels. S
ometimes both.
At the front of the marching line, Shumba’s father, Musa, moved quietly through the foliage, the muscles on his back taut like coiled vipers. He was one of the better trappers in the tribe and had gained much respect over the years from the other men. Shumba was proud to have him as both a father and mentor.
The sun seemed to have reached its apex now and was beginning to slide lazily down again. Here, the light filtered through the trees and cast the world in a tint of royal blue. Patches of mist danced in front of the men as they walked, and at certain times appeared to glow around their spears and machetes as if they’d been enchanted with old magic. Shumba paused for a moment to scrape dark sap from a crooked tree. The amber was beginning to harden already and change color. He played with it as he moved, rolling it into a perfect sphere. His father had once made him a large ball the size of his head for kicking and throwing in this fashion. The children of the tribe played with it still, and when it rolled along the ground, it swirled with brilliant colors of ochre, magenta, sapphire and gold.
When they reached the edge of the cliff, back where Shumba had seen the flare, his father called him forward.
“Show me where you saw the creatures?”
Shumba pointed toward the Old Man, and explained once more how the monsters had leapt down into the forest. How their legs had seemed to keep them stable in the air and allow them to float gracefully. His father did nothing but nod, and then waved his men forward. They advanced along the edge of the cliffs, keeping just inside the tree line as they made their way to the mountaintop. Soon they were walking outside of their normal hunting radius, though it was not entirely uncommon to come out this far for food during droughts. Shumba spied a few old nets woven from liana that had been left to rot and wither in the rains. The vines, tight and strong when first cut, withered quickly in the damp atmosphere. It seemed some days that Shumba’s sole purpose in life was to rebuild huts and nets that had suffered demise from the elements, and would no doubt suffer demise again in just a few days.
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