“Then prepare to be dethroned.” The Spider blew a raspberry at her.
“Come get me,” the woman taunted. “Every second you spend here gives Victor more time to find those kids.”
The Spider gritted his teeth and began to climb the frame. He was halfway up when Candy-Anne jumped.
Her arm snaked round his neck as she descended and he was jerked backwards with a strangled cry. Candy-Anne landed on her feet and let go, as her opponent landed on his back with a stomach-turning thud. She sliced down and the Spider jerked his head to the side, the knife chipping a slice of concrete next to his ear. His arm shot out and slammed into Candy-Anne’s throat. She staggered away, fighting for breath. Tad was on his feet in an instant and the two faced each other once more.
“You’re very good,” the woman coughed. “Better than I expected.”
“Ditto.” Her opponent gave a gracious bow. “Sure you wouldn’t like to switch to the winning side?”
“I’m always on the winning side. Can you say the same?”
“Not lately. But I’m out to change that.”
They ran at each other again.
The clearing rang with grunts and cries. This time they were evenly matched, for the Spider was noticeably slower. His face was twisted with pain and blood was seeping through his shirt. But he was still strong as an ox and neither of them could find an advantage.
Then Candy-Anne tripped over a loose slab of stone. The Spider knocked the knife from her hand and pounced, landing on top of his opponent.
“You know why I’m called the White Spider?” he hissed into her face. “Because no quarry I was after ever escap—”
“I’m nobody’s quarry.” The woman struck out with sharpened nails, gouging a furrow across his forehead.
“Aaaaaaaah!” The Spider recoiled.
Candy-Anne drew up both knees and catapulted the man off. As she leapt to her feet, the Spider threw his knife. The woman clapped her hands together, catching the blade inches from her face.
“Game over, my friend.”
“Seems like it.” The Spider scrabbled up and raced away, wiping desperately at the blood trickling into his eyes. Candy-Anne flicked his blade into the air, caught the handle and went after him.
The Spider raced for the trees, his pursuer a few feet behind. Suddenly he changed direction and put on a spurt of speed, moving faster than should have been humanly possible. He crashed into one of the swings and kept going, grasping the plastic seat to his chest. Up he went, at incredible speed, over the top of the bar. Before Candy-Anne could react, he was rocketing down behind her. His feet slammed into her spine and she flew through the air. She collided with a tree and bounced back onto the asphalt, out cold.
“Good effort, young lady.” The Spider gave an almighty tug and pulled the entire swing from its moorings. His head was swimming and he was close to blacking out. “You almost beat me.” He wrapped the chains round Candy-Anne and tied them in a knot. “That should keep you for a while.” He weaved his way into the woods, using the trunks to keep himself upright. “But I’m no use to anyone like this.” His legs gave way and he began to crawl towards the house.
He could feel the Atlas Serum going to work, repairing torn tissue and muscle. But it was too slow. No matter how much danger the kids were in, he was out of the game unless he could hide and rest for a while.
Charlie and Daffodil were on their own.
32
Victor’s forces milled around the house while Willie barked furiously, pawing at the shutters.
“There’s nobody in the garage.” One soldier tossed a pair of spark plugs to his boss. “But we took these out of the van so they can’t use it to escape.”
“Good work.”
“We’re making an awful lot of noise, though.”
“Forget it. Bellbowrie village is three miles away. We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“What if the kids call the police?” another soldier asked.
“Not after breaking a killer out of prison, you fool,” Victor pointed out. “Force the front door.”
The man stepped back, took a run and hit the entrance with a broad shoulder. There was a loud crackle and he was lifted off the ground, soaring backwards into a flower bed.
“It’s electrified,” he moaned in pain. “I’ve broken my arm.”
Hill fired point-blank at the lock until it shattered. He gave a swift kick and the door burst open. “Rubber soled boots,” he grunted, shaking his legs. “Still gave me a bit of a tingle.”
The interior of the house was pitch-black and silent.
“Hmm.” Victor regarded the entrance with suspicion. “The word ‘trap’ springs to mind.”
“They’re the ones who are trapped,” Hill replied confidently. “With the shutters down and only one door they’ve got no way out.”
“I never underestimate my enemy.” Victor hung back. “It’s why I’m still alive.”
“I’ll send Willie first.” Hill was holding the hound’s collar while he whined and strained to get free. “He has the boy’s scent.”
He let go and his dog rushed inside, claws scrabbling on the tiled floor, until the darkness swallowed him up.
Victor leaned into the hall and flicked a light switch on and off. It had no effect. “Let’s give the mutt time to find his prey. No sense in taking chances.”
*
Willie padded through the house and into the kitchen, sniffing the ground. He lifted a mottled head and drew back his muzzle, revealing huge bared teeth, coated with mucus.
The quarry was in here.
It put two massive paws on the counter and nosed at a cupboard.w
The door flew open and Charlie, curled inside, blew a handful of pepper into the dog’s face. Willie retreated with a yelp, eyes streaming, scraping frantically at his muzzle.
The boy leapt down and shot out of the room before his four-legged adversary could recover. Slamming the door behind him, he raced into the study.
*
Victor waited a couple of minutes, looking at the luminous dial on his watch.
“I don’t hear anyone getting chomped.”
“Me neither.” Hill looked concerned. “I hope Willie’s all right.”
“Right, we’re going in blind.” Victor started forwards. “Three of you stay and guard the entrance.”
The rest of the squad switched on their torches and carefully followed him. “Search the house from top to bottom.”
The soldiers spread out, some heading up the stairs, others disappearing into rooms.
“Be very careful,” the leader added. “He may not look like much, but Charlie can fight like a demon. I’ve had first-hand experience.” Victor entered the study, followed by Hill, and began checking every nook and cranny. In the kitchen, Willie had recovered and started whining.
“Let’s see what’s up with that stupid dog.”
They opened the kitchen door and the hound staggered out, eyes streaming.
“Fat lot of good he did.” Victor glowered at the animal.
“He’s not out of the game yet.” Hill wiped the dog’s face with his sleeve. “Get him, boy!”
Willie put his nose to the floor again and followed Charlie’s scent into the room they had just vacated.
“This place is empty, Scooby Doo,” Victor reprimanded. “I already looked.”
“Give him a chance, chief.”
The dog sniffed its way round the furniture, sneezing occasionally. Finally it stopped at the large stone fireplace and began to howl, looking round at his master with bloodshot eyes.
“Oh, you clever little swine,” Hill breathed. “He’s gone up the chimney.”
“Take three men and get outside. Shoot him off the roof if you have to.”
Victor was about to accompany Hill when he spotted a computer on the desk by the window.
“I’ll be along in a minute.”
*
Charlie inched his way skywards, arms above his head, using fingertips, knees and f
eet to propel himself. Soot clogged his mouth and coated his face, so he kept both eyes tightly shut. At one point the stone duct formed an ‘S’ and he had to contort his body to squeeze through. The motion dislodged an avalanche of ash, but he held his breath and kept squirming upwards.
As his lungs were about to burst, he felt the rough clay of a chimney pot. He pulled with all his strength and popped out of the top like an old-fashioned sweep.
Charlie slumped onto the slate roof and lay there, coughing and spluttering, inhaling the cold night air and staring at the stars.
“That was a deeply disturbing experience.”
He heard the front door open and men spill out, led by Willie. If he dropped down now, the dog would be on him within seconds.
Charlie stood up and wiped grime from his eyes. Thirty feet away was the tree house, nestled in the branches of a huge oak. Though it had a vast spread, the closest boughs were still a formidable distance away.
He thought about the gymnasts he had watched on TV. They made it look so easy. Perhaps it was.
The boy took a few deep breaths and sprinted along the roof, taking longer strides as he reached the edge. He launched himself into the air, arms outstretched.
“There he is!” someone shouted. “My God! The kid’s insane!”
“Open fire!”
Charlie flew towards the tree and grasped one of the outer branches. Using momentum to propel himself, he swung forwards, tucking both legs under his body. He somersaulted, grabbed another branch and repeated the motion. Bullets tore into the leaves as he straightened up and shot, feet first, through the tree house door. He skidded along the wooden floor and crashed into the far wall.
“Ooh.” He massaged his spine. “My tailbone hurts.”
*
“Who’s going up after him?” The soldiers looked apprehensively at the structure far above their heads.
“Nobody.” Hill snatched a machine gun from one of the underlings and opened fire. Bullets slammed into the tree house floor, sending a down a mist of wood chips and splinters. The man kept his finger on the trigger until the magazine was empty.
“He’s certainly dead now.” The soldier took the gun back with a frown. “How are we going to collect the blood?”
“Catch the drips in a bucket for all I care.” Hill whistled to Willie. “Go fetch his corpse, boy.”
The dog loped over the tree and planted both paws against the bark.
“Um… dogs can’t climb, sir.”
“Try telling that to Willie.”
As the men looked on in astonishment, the hound dug pointed claws into the wood and began to haul itself up the oak.
*
In the tree house, Charlie sat up and patted himself for bullet holes. He was completely unhurt.
“Nice one, Mac.”
A few days ago, to test the effectiveness of their doctored liquid soap, Daffodil had poured it across the floor of the tree house. Whenever night fell and the temperature dropped, it congealed into a solid resin, as impenetrable as any shield.
“Now I just have to figure out how to get out of this situation.”
There was a scratching sound outside and a massive white head appeared in the doorway, blocking the moon.
“Aww!” Charlie shuddered. “You have got to be kidding.”
Willie pulled himself into the tree house, quivering lips drawn back over slavering fangs. The boy scuttled backwards on his butt until he hit the wall again.
“Nice doggie,” he whispered, trying not to make any sudden moves. “I’m not tasty, honestly. Please go away.”
Willie crept forwards and arched his back, preparing to spring.
“Pssst.” In the corner of the tree house, a shape rose out of the blackness, no more than a shadow itself. “Try me for size, Muttley.”
The dog spun round and launched itself at the stranger.
The White Spider grabbed it by the neck and the hound gave a strangled yelp. It dangled from the man’s outstretched arms, claws paddling in empty air.
“Don’t hurt him,” Charlie pleaded. “It’s not the poor brute’s fault. He was trained to kill.”
“A bit like myself.” The Spider leaned forwards until his face was inches from the dog’s muzzle. “Don’t worry. I may not be fond of humans, but I’m quite partial to animals.”
He bared his teeth and growled, eyes searing into Willie’s. The dog began whimpering, trying to turn its head from side to side, but it was unable to break the vice-like grip.
“Run away, puppy,” the Spider chuckled. “I’m the big bad wolf in this territory.”
He dropped the hound to the floor as if it were piece of discarded litter and helped Charlie to his feet.
“So. Now that you’ve given away my hidey-hole, how’s the battle going?”
*
Willie leapt from the tree house and landed on all fours, shaking with fear.
“What’s wrong, boy?” Hill approached him. “Where’s the body?”
The dog sank its teeth into his arm and he jumped back, cursing. “Willie! What are you playing at?”
The hound turned and tore off across the clearing, yelping in fear, until he disappeared into the woods.
“This kid is a devil.” One of the soldiers crossed himself. “Literally.”
“Then let’s send him to hell.” Hill holstered his pistol and began to climb the tree. “Follow me.”
33
In the living room, Victor studied the computer. Outside he could hear machine-gun fire. Hill had obviously found and dispatched Charlie.
“You there, Frankie?” He tapped the console. “We mean you no harm. Turn yourself in and we’ll take you back to Manticorps, eh?”
The computer stayed silent.
“We’ve found a trapdoor in one of the cupboards.” A mercenary stuck his head into the room. “It’s pitch-black down there, but we heard someone moving.”
“Charlie’s outside, so it must be the girl,” Victor replied. “Chuck a shrapnel grenade down. We don’t need her.”
“Course you do, dummy.” The screen sprang to life as a miasma of green triangles. “She’s called Daffodil, and me and her come as a package.”
“Hello, my elusive nemesis.” Victor waved for the soldier to stay. “Care to elaborate?”
“I’m able to appear on any device, but Daffodil carries my physical being around as a chip embedded in her neck. Hit that by mistake and I go up in a puff of smoke.”
“Sounds a bit far-fetched.”
“When did you become an expert on cutting-edge technology, Gigantor?”
Victor acknowledged the truth of this statement with a grunt. “Can you be separated?”
“If you take Daffodil alive, I’ll show you how to remove me. I get energy from her body, but I’m a self-contained unit. Once Manticorps plugs my chip into a computer, I’ll be back to my usual chirpy self.”
“Very well. Tell her to surrender and I promise she’ll come to no harm.”
“I’m not the boss of her, as she reminded me recently. And I doubt she’s going to trust your word.”
“Then turn the lights back on. My men are so jittery they’ll start blasting at anything that moves if I send them into a dark basement.”
The house lit up again.
“Gather your troops at the trapdoor and wait for me.” Victor dismissed the soldier. When he was gone, the commander rested a hand on his chin. “Why are you trying so hard to save these kids?” he asked. “It’s a lost cause and you’ve obviously got a mind of your own.”
“’Cause I’m not free to make my own decisions, Vic. I’m programmed to protect them whether I want to or not. And, for the record, I don’t want to.”
“If I take you back to Manticorps, they’ll probably reboot you. Remove any pesky restrictions you might have.”
“Sounds good to me,” Frankie said gratefully. “Right now, however, I’ve got no choice but to side with Charlie and Daffodil. If I don’t, I’ll shut down permanently.�
�
“It’s not a battle you can win,” Victor told him. “So what will happen if we do kill the kids?”
“I’ll be fine, so long as I’ve done my best to stop it happening.”
“I mean what will you do to me and my men?”
“I’m not interested in getting my own back. Just surviving.”
“Good. ’Cause Charlie is already a goner.” The gunfire outside had stopped. “Hill and his dog will have seen to that.”
“Think so?” Frankie gave a guffaw. “Then you’ve sorely underestimated the little fellow.”
*
Hill and his men were halfway up the tree when a rope with a tyre on the end snaked through the branches. It dropped over the torso of the lowest soldier, pinning both arms to his sides.
“What the…?” The man tried to struggle free.
“Geronimo!” The White Spider looped the other end of the rope over a branch and leapt from the tree house, clutching the frayed cord to his chest. The rope and branch acted like a pulley, and the Spider’s weight hauled the man upwards as he descended.
“Just like a funfair!” He waved merrily, passing the writhing soldier. “Though not nearly so amusing for you.”
The mercenary reached the tree house and slammed into its underside, stopping Tad a few feet from the ground. He let go of the rope and the combatant plunged back down through the branches. He collided with one of his companions and both crashed to earth.
Charlie appeared in the tree house doorway and dropped like a stone, feet thumping into Hill’s upturned face. As the man flew backwards, Charlie leapt again and shouldered the last attacker from his perch. All three plummeted downwards, letting out a cacophony of yells.
The White Spider reached up and caught the boy as the other two crunched into the dirt.
“They’re a bit dented.” Arms tightly around his liberator, Charlie surveyed the unconscious men strewn around the tree. “But you didn’t kill anyone. Well done.”
“Yay for me.” The Spider yawned. “Are you going to get down now or do you imagine I shall carry you around all night? My back is healing nicely but still exceedingly painful from an unfortunate knife wound.”
It's Only the End of the World Page 14