It's Only the End of the World

by J. A. Henderson

  “Don’t you touch him!” Daffodil screamed. “Frankie? Do somethin!”

  “Step away from my kids.” Frankie appeared on the computer screen as a swirl of angry red dots. “I’m the one you’re looking for.”

  “Oh, I have no intention of harming the little fellow. He’s been through enough already.” The Spider winked at Charlie. “My apologies for pretending I was going to cut you.”

  “No harm done,” the boy squeaked. “It’s quite an effective strategy.”

  “I just wanted to bring you into the open, Frankie. I’d sorely like an explanation from the head honcho.” The Spider sat back down. “Please be quick, however. I’ve waited long enough, and patience isn’t one of my virtues, as you’ll have noticed.”

  “I’ll make it rocket fast,” the AI said. “Charlie’s dad stole a refined version of the Atlas Serum from Manticorps and gave it to his dangerously ill son. As a result Charlie is invaluable to them, ’cause we destroyed all of their research before he removed me from their lab in the form of a microchip. Ta dah!”

  “That is most gratifying to hear.” The Spider nodded. “I’m warming to you already.”

  “Now Manticorps will stop at nothing to find Charlie and Daffodil. They’ll harvest his blood and, once they realise my chip is in Mac’s neck, remove it. Probably with an axe.” The girl’s severed head appeared on the screen. “So, you see, we’re all on the same side.”

  “That’s going a bit far. Your pet minx did throw me out of a moving vehicle.”

  “Don’t act cute. You were about to do a runner anyway.”

  “What did you expect?” The Spider leaned forwards in anticipation. “Yes, I hate Manticorps. But I’m not idiotic enough to throw in my lot with two striplings and a talking slot machine. You’d need an army to win.”

  “We did suggest that,” Daffodil said wearily. “It got nixed.”

  “You are that army, Tad. With my guidance, we can beat Manticorps. If you manage to control your rage, that is.”

  “But I can’t control my rage. I’d have thought that was obvious.”

  “Don’t be so sure. You came here to kill the kids and yet they’re still alive.”

  “Don’t remind him, hoss!” Daffodil urged.

  “They are merely victims of your diabolical machinations,” the Spider grunted. “Which is why, on reflection, I have decided to leave them be. Since I owe you my freedom, and you appear to be attached to Daffodil, you shall also be spared. For now.”

  “Mighty big of you.”

  “I, however, will say adieu. I intend to deal with Manticorps at a more opportune time, when the odds are in my favour.”

  “We don’t have that luxury,” Charlie pleaded. “Frankie has predicted that Manticorps will cause an extinction event if they’re not stopped soon. All of humanity will be wiped out!”

  “Sounds like a rather tall tale to me,” the Spider snorted. “And even if I believed you, who says I want to save humanity? To be honest, I can’t even stand myself, never mind the rest of the race.”

  “What a coincidence,” Daffodil sneered. “We can’t stand you either.”

  “Don’t suppose you’d care for a game of charades while you think about it?”

  “Frankie fancies himself a bit of a comedian,” Charlie explained.

  “He needs to work on his timing.” The Spider bowed to the pair. “I’ve seen with my own eyes how capable you are, but I cannot believe this mechanised misfit thought you would succeed in such an endeavour. Attack Manticorps and you’ll die. Simple as that.”

  “I don’t believe I mentioned any attack. You aren’t seeing the big picture, Mr Tietze.”

  “Wait a minute…” The Spider looked around. “A sophisticated security system. An isolated location. Deliberately provoking me when I was going to flee, just so I’d follow you here.”

  “The penny finally dropped, Tad?”

  “You didn’t recruit these kids as soldiers.” The Spider’s bug eyes bulged. “They’re bait to draw Manticorps out here.”

  29

  “We’re what?” Daffodil cried. “You double crossed us, Frankie, you two-timin skunk!”

  “Of course.” Charlie hung his head. “I should have seen it.”

  The Spider stared at the devastated teenagers and clenched his fists. He turned for the door again, then stopped, indecision etched across his face.

  “I cannot believe I’m about to utter this question,” he sighed. “But when do you expect Manticorps’ forces?”

  “They’re on their way now.”

  Charlie and Daffodil looked at each other in horror.

  “You’ve still got time to escape, Tad, if you leave right now. You might want to untie the kids, though. Or they really won’t stand chance.”

  “You have played me for a fool, Frankie,” the Spider said furiously. “I shall seek retribution for that in due course.”

  “Get in line, pal. But your best chance to avenge everything done to you is on our doorstep. Plus you can save the world while you’re at it.”

  “I have no interest in saving the world, as I stated.” The Spider advanced on his captives, still tied to the chairs. “But this pair of scamps don’t deserve the fate you have foisted on them. I won’t—” He halted mid sentence, sniffing the air. “There are people approaching. Coming over fields to the south. They have a dog. I can smell it.”

  “I hate dogs.” Charlie shivered. “I’m having a really bad night.”

  “Manticorps’ little army have arrived. Time to make a decision, Mr Tietze. With my help you can win this.”

  “So you do have a plan.”

  “No. But Chaz will come through for us.”

  “I will?” Charlie goggled.

  “I have utter faith in him. And Daffodil’s no slouch either.”

  “Well, if the enemy is already here…” The Spider licked his lips. “Who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?” He cut away the ropes that bound the pair and scanned the room. “Do we have any defences?”

  “You already noticed the house has a security system. I’ll activate it now.”

  “What about weapons?”

  “None.” Charlie rubbed his wrists. “My mum doesn’t like them.”

  “Make some.” The White Spider handed the poker back to Daffodil. “I shall be back.”

  “Where you goin?” she asked.

  “Taking the fight to the enemy.” He ruffled her hair. “And you didn’t have to make everything so complicated. I’m a mercenary, plain and simple. All you had to do was hire me.”

  “You are so hired.” Daffodil rubbed her wrists.

  “Fine. I’ll go even up the odds.”

  “Um, there is one small problem.”

  “As far as I can see, we face more problems than I can count.” The Spider’s brow darkened. “What is this new hindrance?”

  “I can’t allow you to kill anyone.”

  “I’ve slaughtered people in pillow fights, my friend.” The man gave a wolfish grin. “These woods are going to run with blood tonight.”

  “Seriously, Tad. It goes against my programming.”

  “In case I haven’t made my position clear, I’m not working for you.” He pointed at the teenagers. “I happen to be employed by them.”

  “I don’t want anyone killed either,” Charlie said. “We’ve worked really hard to avoid it.”

  “I second that.” Daffodil backed him up. “Couldn’t bear to have it on my conscience.”

  “Why don’t I just battle Manticorps with my hands in my pockets?” the Spider growled. “C’mon, Charlie. You must feel like letting out a little of that pent-up rage yourself. They deserve it.”

  “I’m sorry.” The boy shook his head. “I don’t want to be like you.”

  “And you did agree to work for us,” Daffodil added. “Call it one of the conditions of your employment.”

  “You’re actually earnest about this?”

  “We’re both fourteen.” She tugged at his sle
eve. “We’re not murderers.”

  “I can try slapping them with a bunch of flowers,” the Spider grunted. “But I do tend to get carried away in the heat of the moment.”

  “Think it through, Tad. You’re not going to defeat a superior force without keeping a level head.”

  “Frankie is very clever,” the Spider acknowledged. “Losing my temper cost my squad their lives in Iraq, landed me in Sunnyside and allowed your robotic friend to manipulate me into this situation. I won’t have it happen again.”

  “So you’re not going to run amok with a chainsaw?”

  “Why?” The man looked hopeful. “You don’t happen to have one lying around?”

  The pair glared at him.

  “Very well. I shall remain on my best behaviour,” the man chuckled. “Hah! What an amusing thing to say right before a fight.”

  “Thank you, Mr Spider,” Daffodil said contritely. “Sorry I was so mean earlier.”

  “To be perfectly frank, I’m not offended in the least.” He patted her cheek. “The White Spider is a murderous barbarian who doesn’t deserve courtesy.” He tucked the knife into his belt. “So… if I’m to play the knight in shining armour, please call me Tad, as your fiendishly clever friend does.”

  And he disappeared out of the door.

  Part 4

  The Battle

  Our friends show us what we can do. Our enemies teach us what we must do.

  – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

  30

  Victor and his team trudged through the woods, shining torches on the ground to stop themselves stepping in rabbit holes or tripping over roots. Behind them marched twenty armed men, strung out in a line. Willie pulled frantically on his leash, nose pressed to the ground.

  “We’re close.” Hill was almost dragged off his feet. “Real close.”

  The dog stiffened and gave a throaty growl. Two hundred yards away, in the middle of a clearing, stood a brightly lit house with a balcony.

  “That’s where they are.” Hill slapped the dog’s rump until it finally sat down. “Without a doubt.”

  “Torches off,” Victor commanded.

  “This is perfect,” Candy-Anne giggled as the team were plunged into darkness. “With that place lit up like a Christmas tree, they won’t see us coming.”

  As they watched, steel shutters began to slide down the windows.

  “I think we just lost the element of surprise.” Victor spoke into his radio. “Orange Leader, form a perimeter ring and close in.”

  There was silence at the other end.

  “Orange Leader? Respond.”

  “Orange Leader is a bit hung up,” a voice crackled back. “Caught in a Spider’s web, you might say.”

  “Damnit!” Victor opened the channel. “Everybody make their way to us, right now!”

  He pressed receive. A chorus of terrified shouts swamped the airwaves.

  “Where is he? I can’t see him.”

  “He’s behind me!”

  “Left! Left!”

  “Man down!”

  The PUTT PUTT of automatic weapons erupted from the woods, flashes of light peppering the inky night. Minutes later a group of soldiers staggered into the clearing, swinging their weapons in all directions.

  “We were ambushed!” one panted. “Got men missing all over the shop!”

  “Form a tight group.” Victor waved them forward. “Take this house now!”

  His private army advanced.

  The White Spider emerged from the trees, grabbed a mercenary by the neck and pulled him into the darkness. His companions opened fire in panic. The soldier staggered back into sight, clutching his leg, then collapsed in the mud.

  “Quit shooting,” Victor bellowed. “You’re hitting your own people!”

  “Last thing we need is some crazy loon running around behind us.” Candy-Anne stopped and looked around. “Leave him to me.”

  “That loon is a death squad on two legs.” Victor motioned for her to keep going. “You look like you work at a nail bar.”

  “That’s the whole point.” Candy-Anne flicked her commander’s face with a dainty finger and a crimson line appeared on his cheek. “Point. Get it?”

  “Think yourself lucky,” Hill chortled. “I’ve seen her do a lot worse with those talons. She can handle anyone.”

  “Then keep the Spider off our backs.” Victor turned away. “The rest of you, move forward.”

  Hill released Willie and chased after the dog, drawing his pistol.

  Victor activated his earpiece. “Markus? You have the coordinates for the house?”

  “I do.” Back in Manticorps’ situation room, the computer whiz was typing feverishly. “This glorified X-Box cannot beat me.”

  The shutters began to rise again and they could see Charlie and Daffodil staring out in terror.

  “Ha!” Markus gloated, putting both hands behind his head. “See? There is nothing I am not able to hack.”

  “Me neither.” A no-entry sign appeared on the screen in front of him. “But I had to let you make the first move, so I could locate and bypass your personal security firewalls.”

  Sparks erupted from Markus’ console and the keys began to melt. Before he could react, the rest of his equipment started to malfunction.

  “No!” he wailed, as the lights went out. “This cannot happen!”

  Back at the house, the window shutters lowered with a clang and stayed shut.

  *

  Daffodil yanked open the trapdoor in the cupboard and clattered down the ladder into the basement.

  “Hide down here with me, Chaz,” she implored.

  “No. I’m going to try to draw them away.” Charlie refused to budge. “We stand a better chance by splitting our forces.”

  “Forces? There are only three of us.”

  “What am I?” Frankie hissed in her ear. “Chopped liver?”

  “I still ain’t sure you’re really on our side.”

  “Yeah. I probably deserve that crack.”

  “Can the debate, guys,” Charlie whispered. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

  “They’ve got a dog, buddy,” Daffodil reminded him. “You’re scared of dogs.”

  “I said I’d draw them away, not offer myself up for lunch. Hang on. I’ll be back.”

  He closed the trapdoor and piled junk on top.

  “Frankie? Lights out.”

  Charlie let his eyes adjust. Like the White Spider, he could see perfectly in the dark.

  He crept into the kitchen and left the door ajar.

  31

  Candy-Anne flitted between the trees, machine gun clutched in her hand. Up ahead she could hear something squeaking like a badly oiled hinge. She reached a small clearing as the moon emerged from behind a cloud.

  At one end was a derelict schoolhouse, overgrown with moss and half of its roof missing. Outside was a cracked concrete playground with a rusty chute, a climbing frame and a set of swings. One plastic chair was moving back and forth, as if someone had recently been sitting there.

  “This is suitably creepy,” she muttered, inching along the tree line. “Come out and show yourself, Spider.”

  There was a sharp crack and the weapon spun from her hands. The woman dropped to her stomach and scrabbled around until she found the gun.

  “Damn!”

  A bullet was embedded in the firing mechanism.

  “I’m afraid darkness becomes me.” A voice wafted over the clearing.

  Candy-Anne looked up.

  The Spider was perched on the swing, pointing a rifle in her direction. She flattened herself against the carpet of grass and slithered backwards.

  “I haven’t got all night,” the Spider called. “A couple of youngsters hired me to protect them.”

  The woman stayed where she was, invisible in the thick undergrowth. All she had to do was delay her adversary until Victor and his team were finished mopping up. If the Spider headed for the house, she could get behind him and the advantage would be
hers again.

  “Forcing my hand, eh? What if I even things up?” The man hopped off the swing, raised the rifle and snapped it across his knee. “I’ve been ordered not to kill you anyway.”

  “That was a dumb move.” Candy-Anne got to her feet and sauntered into the clearing, removing a large blade from the scabbard by her side. “This is my preferred weapon.”

  “What a lark! I have one of those too.” The Spider pulled the kitchen knife from his belt. “I’m told I am quite the expert with it.”

  “You’d better be.”

  The assailants sized each other up across the playground. Candy-Anne shifted her knife from hand to hand while the Spider stayed perfectly still.

  Then they ran at each other.

  The blades flashed in the moonlight as both thrust and parried, steel ringing on steel. The Spider was by far the stronger of the two, but Candy-Anne was more agile. They slashed, kicked and punched, each searching for the weak link in the other’s defences.

  Slowly the Spider’s strength began to tell and Candy-Anne was forced back towards the climbing frame. Before she reached it, she turned and jumped, hit one of the rungs and somersaulted over the man’s head. She struck out as she landed, thrusting her weapon into the Spider’s back.

  He bellowed in pain and wrenched himself free. Then he dived into the tangle of struts and wriggled through them, kicking out with both feet, Candy-Anne close behind. She took a nick out of his leg and he yelled again.

  “You’re big and I’m small,” the woman gloated, writhing between the rods. “This is the wrong terrain for you to make a stand.”

  “I am quite at home surrounded by bars.” The Spider reached up, pulled a rusty spar from the frame and hurled it at the woman’s head.

  Candy-Anne bent backwards, banging her skull on another painted strut, as the hunk of metal whizzed past. In the seconds it took for her to recover, the Spider had wormed his way through the contraption and out the other side.

  The woman climbed quickly up the frame and balanced on the top. “I’m the queen of the castle!” she crowed.