by Jason Parent
“Probably just a nightmare,” he said. Nevertheless, he picked up his pillow.
Please don’t flip it! Chester prayed as she clung to the underside of the pillowcase. She hovered in the air, tired of the mishandling. Her discovery would be unavoidable if she didn’t react quickly. As the pillow rotated, she dropped back to the bed.
Derek checked the bottom of his pillow. Apparently satisfied, he slammed the pillow back into position, smothering Chester. He turned off the light and went back to sleep.
Chester pulled herself forward. The weight of Derek’s oversized head made her escape a tedious struggle. Once free from the pillow’s cover, she waited patiently beside Derek’s neck for his snoring to renew. Then she moved toward his head, remembering how Clive and the others had been so much easier.
There, atop Derek’s pillow, Chester felt small next to her human counterpart, almost insignificant. She sat a half inch away from his ear, reveling in her success.
What harm could little, itty-bitty me do to big old Derek? Laughing, she answered her own question. A whole lot.
If spiders could smile, Chester would have been beaming. She would find delight in this conquest. A successful finish would make the trials she faced on the way worthwhile. The viscous venom filled her fangs with a pleasant wetness. She was salivating worse than a dog at dinnertime.
Her euphoria quickly dissipated as the pillow trembled beneath her. Derek shifted in his sleep. His head came off the pillow, rolling over with the rest of his body. The moonlight coming through Derek’s window cast a foreboding shadow of a man’s head over the pillow. It covered Chester in darkness. The shadow grew larger quickly. As Derek’s head careened down into cozy plushness, Chester knew fear.
In the moments before what she thought would be her death, Chester had one thought. Is this how it all ends? She tucked her legs underneath her.
Curled up into a spider’s version of the fetal position, Chester sadly laughed at the irony of her impending death. Century after century of survival, of being smarter than both my hunters and my prey, only to be accidentally squished by this moron. I always thought there’d be more significance to my death. As the hulking mass enveloped her, she cowered in a huddle, not yet ready to return to the darkness that had birthed her.
Her world went black, yet Chester had not expired. The sound of Derek’s snoring was muffled, reverberating in a familiar echo. Fortune was on her side. A stroke of luck, and Chester was exactly where she wanted to be. She was in Derek’s ear. The walls of his auditory canal had landed around her, engulfing her within its orifice. She was trapped but alive, having nowhere to go but up.
Happiness returned. As she made her way into Derek’s ear, she stumbled on a nugget of loose earwax. It broke free and rolled like a boulder down a hill to Derek’s earlobe. She picked herself up and continued her journey.
“What the fuck?”
Derek startled awake. Something felt wrong. There was a strange buildup of pressure near his eardrum similar to the feeling he’d had the last time he was on a plane at takeoff. With a pop, the sensation passed. It was followed by a short-lived tingling in the center of his forehead.
Then everything seemed normal again. Derek glanced at his alarm clock and snickered. It was 4:20 a.m. He considered sparking up a joint in honor of the time. Perhaps his abrupt waking was his body’s way of telling him it needed the warm, comfortable sleep offered by the inhalation of some quality weed. But his pot habit would have to wait. He needed to be at work in four hours, and he craved as much sleep as possible beforehand. He settled snugly back into his king-sized but rarely shared bed.
Derek, a voice called. Oh, Derek.
Derek rubbed his eyes. He took a second glance at his alarm clock, which now read 4:23 a.m. The voice floated as if out of a dream, but was that possible? Had he fallen asleep, dreamed, and woken again in only a couple of minutes? No matter. He rested his head back down on his pillow.
I’m talking to you, Derek. No one likes to be ignored.
“Maybe I do need a joint,” Derek mumbled through a yawn. He sat up in his bed, dismissing the voice as some manifestation of that awkward frontier between awareness and sleep.
Drugs, Derek? They’ll rot your brain. Then again, so will I.
Okay, my eyes weren’t even closed that time, Derek thought, not yet fully awake. He picked the crusties from the corners of his eyes and inspected his room. “Is someone there?”
I’d say so. I’m here.
“Ouch!” Derek pinched himself, and he pinched hard. He had to make sure he wasn’t still dreaming. The pain sped up his cognitive processes. The voice seemed all too real. He hoped he wouldn’t hear it again.
Yes, Derek, you’re awake, and you’ve been a bad boy.
“Is this some sort of acid flashback?” Derek huffed. “That’s not fair! I only tried it that one time at that wannabe Woodstock rip-off back in ’99. Oh, and at my sister’s Halloween bash that one year… and at Greg’s bar mitzvah. They say it stays in your system forever, but—”
I’m no psychedelic trip. The voice seemed irritated by the insinuation. What is it with you humans? Why is it so hard to accept reality when it is happening to you? Is accepting that you are hearing my voice truly beyond comprehension? Geesh! Things were so much easier back when humans still believed in witches and voodoo.
“There was also that concert in New Hampshire. I thought it was mescaline, but I guess it could have been acid.”
Listen up, Derek. I’m not going to repeat myself. You believe in God, don’t you? Yet you can’t see him. You believe in the infiniteness of space, yet you’ve never left the planet. But for some reason, you can’t believe in me. Well, you will soon enough.
“Now hold on a second. I doubt anybody’s ever left the planet. Everybody knows that walking-on-the-moon photo is a fake. It had a prop rock in it and everything!”
You’re an idiot, Derek. Even worse, you’re in the way.
“What are you talking about?” Derek laughed at the voice, still refusing to accept its reality. “Who are you, Ms. Know-It-All? Where are you?”
I’m in your head.
Derek took a minute to think it over. The gears in his brain were slow to turn. At last, they functioned.
“Wait a minute! I know where I’ve seen this before. That old movie, Real Genius, where Val Kilmer put a miniature receiver in that geek’s braces and told him he was God. Did Clive put you up to this? Good one, man.”
Your theory is flawed. First of all, I never said I was God. Unlike him, I have a certain panache. Second, you don’t have braces. And last, do you think Clive is smart enough to do something like that? Are any of your other friends smart enough? Nope, the simple fact of the matter is that I am real, I’m in your head, and I’m going to kill you. It’s nothing personal, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to enjoy this. Like I said, you’ve been a bad boy. I know all your deepest, darkest secrets. The task falls upon me to punish you for them.
Derek closed his eyes, hoping he’d fall back asleep. The prank was wearing thin. He wondered if it was something more than a prank.
“Are you a cop? I read somewhere that you have to tell me if you are when I ask. Plus, I haven’t done anything wrong.”
I’m no cop, Derek. I’m your conscience. You’ve done plenty wrong. Downloading countless songs, movies, pornography—that’s all stealing. Some of that porn isn’t even legal in this country.
Derek shrugged, absolutely guilt-free and proud of his computer piracy. “Yeah, like you don’t do it. Clive, I know it’s you. The Margaret Thatcher-type voice is a nice touch, but you aren’t fooling me. Seriously, come out, man. This is starting to get old.”
I’m not Clive. I’m you. The voice giggled. It seemed to find great amusement in messing with him. But you’re right. The stealing I could live with. But what about Gina Luvenski?
“How did you…? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Derek had never told anyone about Gina L
uvenski, not even Clive. Yet, someone knew. But who? He hadn’t talked, and she’d barely been conscious. Had she finally called the cops on him after four years of silence? She couldn’t have. She didn’t even know it happened.
You raped her, Derek.
“No, I didn’t.” The accusation put Derek seriously on edge. His unknown guest had struck a nerve. “I don’t know a Gina whatever-you-called-her.”
Yes, you do. You slipped GHB into her drink. Then you walked her, stumbling, back to her dorm room, where you waited until she was completely unconscious before raping her repeatedly. She trusted you, Derek. And in return, you betrayed her in the foulest of ways.
“We were both drunk. We had sex.”
Yes, only it wasn’t consensual on her end.
“She didn’t not consent.” Rather than feeling shame or guilt for what he’d done, Derek only felt fear. He had always been afraid that, somehow, that one night with Gina would come back to haunt him. His anxiety was exasperated by the fact that he’d been found out. He cared only for his own ass.
You can’t hide anything from me, Derek. I’m inside you. I’ve been watching you, and I see all. Now it’s time for you to pay for what you’ve done.
“That’s it!” Derek masked his stress with anger. “I’m calling the cops. The joke’s over. You have no business being in my house. I suggest you leave before the cavalry arrives.”
I wouldn’t try that if I were you. On second thought, go right ahead. You can explain to them what you did to that poor girl.
Derek tossed his covers aside. He’d had about all he could take of the mind games. He would stand for it no longer.
As he moved his hips toward the edge of the bed, his left foot on its way to the floor, an agonizing jolt shot through his body. He collapsed onto his side, paralyzed. Panic came fast.
“This isn’t funny anymore! What did you do to me? Why can’t I move?”
Just wanted to make sure I had your complete attention.
“What? Why? What do you want?”
From you? Not much. I just want you to die.
“What did I ever do to you?”
Aside from whacking me earlier, you mean? Nothing, but you have to go.
“I’m sorry about Gina! I thought if she didn’t remember it, no harm done. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret it.”
That’s bullshit, but it doesn’t matter. Ms. Luvenski just gives me an excuse. I knew I’d find some skeletons buried in here if I opened up the right closets. Simply put, you’re in my way. So you have to die. It might have been somewhat harder had you been… un-damnable, but who am I kidding? I would have still gotten off on killing you.
“That doesn’t need to happen!” Derek screamed. He couldn’t give up hope that there was some possible way out of his predicament even if he couldn’t quite understand it. “Slow down a second! You’ve got things wrong. In whose way? I’m not in anybody’s way. What are you talking about? Whose way am I in?”
Mine, of course. I have plans for your compadre, and if you’re around, you’re bound to get in my way. Despite your entirely asinine personality, you’re far too perceptive and not so easily manipulated, at least when compared to the rest of the moronic lot with whom Clive associates. You could pose a problem. Certainly, your morals are, shall we say, lacking. But so is your sense of loyalty. I can’t have that. So I devised a way to get rid of you while at the same time protecting my interests. You helped Clive realize his love for Morgan. Thank you for that. You’ve made him more malleable.
“You—you’re the voice Clive’s been hearing, aren’t you?”
Ah, you’re brighter than you look! See what I mean? You’re too perceptive. Now, you definitely have to go. That first dose I gave you was only a fraction of what I can do. The next will kill you. I’m not going to lie to you. It’s going to hurt. A lot. But at least it will be quick—relatively speaking, that is.
A tear ran errantly down Derek’s cheek. He thought to scream, to cry out for help, but knew no help could save him. He could think of nothing and no one who could stop his invisible assailant. How could he possibly fight something he couldn’t see or touch? What chance could he have against the devil inside him?
“Please…” he whispered. “Don’t.”
Derek would say no more. Salt burned his eyes. Water blurred his vision. He couldn’t wipe his tears away. His paralysis was complete from the neck down. Derek was a prisoner of his own mind. He would never comprehend what or how it had been taken over.
Chester let Derek be. She had broken him enough. There was only one thing left to do. She burrowed deep into the crevice dividing Derek’s brain into its right and left hemispheres. The nerve tissue embedded therein accepted her fangs, its globby surface parting like pudding, almost welcoming it. Her venom coursed through the brain’s pathways, causing that organ’s pinkish hue and flowing texture to mutate into black sludge.
As a courtesy, Chester injected a second dose of poison into Derek’s posterior cerebral artery. The bite sent a wave of venom into Derek’s bloodstream, causing a stroke. His abdominal muscles strained so hard his ligaments tore. His lips and eyelids puffed up like fat caterpillars. His body went into violent spasms. Sweat flowed from his pores. Bloody vomit spewed from his mouth.
Chester had seen it all before. She had caused it all before. She knew Derek’s pain was unbearable but short-lived. His fast-beating heart spread the venom throughout his body. His carotid arteries glowed like massive bruises on his neck, threatening to burst. His veins were bulbous and augmented, burning as they decayed.
Yet Derek made no sound until his final moments. When death came, a high-pitched squeal released from some inner sanctum deep within Derek’s being. It ended with his final exhalation, his soul escaping.
Chester slowly worked her way out of Derek’s ear, satisfied but fatigued. She rested beside Derek’s stiff, clammy body for as long as she could spare, saving her remaining strength for the long walk home.
CHAPTER 27
C
live stalled outside the doors of the office building. It was Monday morning and his big return to Harcourt. He’d considered calling in sick. As he paced outside his employer’s redbrick walls, he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t. He knew that feigning illness would only delay the questions, insinuations, and assumptions that would dominate interoffice gossip whenever he did finally return. But more time off at least would offer a temporary reprieve. With the way he’d partied the other night, and with his boss, no less, Clive gave himself no reasonable excuse for calling in. No, he would have to face them all. If not that day, then the next.
“This is going to suck.”
You brought this upon yourself, Clive. But you may be in luck. I don’t think anybody noticed you and Judith. That is, other than you and Judith. You’re still going to have to face her.
“Chester!” Clive felt his first semblance of peace since Chester’s inexplicable disappearance two nights prior. “I thought you left me!”
Wow, Clive! Did you actually miss me?
Clive immediately checked his excitement. “I never said your leaving was a bad thing,” he lied. “It’s just that—”
You missed me.
“Oh, fuck you! You know that’s not it.”
Sure it is.
Clive knew he couldn’t deceive Chester. She seemed to know his every thought even before he did. He jumped on the chance to change the topic. “Where were you, anyway?”
I needed some sleep. All that alcohol you consumed affected me too.
“There was a constant throbbing in my head last night. I was beginning to think you had dug in somewhere you weren’t supposed to. Not that there’s anywhere in there you’re supposed to be.”
Oh, yeah, sorry about that. I had company.
“What do you mean, you had company?”
I had a visitor.
“Inside my head? You had a visitor inside my head?”
You know, some private time with a friend. Do
I need to spell it out for you?
In fact, Chester didn’t need to spell it out for Clive. He understood her rather clearly.
“Aw, gross! You had sex inside my head.”
Yeah, like you’re one to criticize. Must I remind you of the vulgar display you and your boss made me watch the other night?
“Chester, try to see things from my point of view. I’m still wary about having one spider in my head. Now you’re having houseguests?”
You can relax. I cleaned up after myself.
“That’s not the point. I don’t know where he’s been. I don’t want just anyone spreading his seed all over my delicate brain. Where’d you meet this guy, anyway?”
He was just someone I met in my travels.
“Is it… he still in there with you?”
No. I disposed of him.
“Disposed of him? How?”
I ate him. Well, parts of him, anyway. The parts I didn’t want, you ate. No biggie.
“Is that what I had caught in my throat this morning? Fucking nasty! It felt like I swallowed a cherry stem. I think I even coughed some of him up.”
Clive considered shoving a finger down his throat to eject the arachnid remains from his system. But since he felt physically fine, he decided against that bulimic remedy. Everything will make its way out eventually, he thought. “Tell me something, Chester. Why the fuck would you want to eat him?”
Why do you think they call us widows? In all seriousness, though, that’s actually quite the misnomer. Generally speaking, only captive female widow spiders devour their mates. I did it merely for the sake of convenience. It saved me a trip to the grocery store, so to speak. As you might imagine, there isn’t exactly tons of food flying around up here, aside from what I got stored away.
“Seriously, Chester? You’re storing food now? Are you telling me that my head is full of dead, bloodless bugs?”
Well, dead or dying, yes. But I assure you I only store the bare minimum. After all, a girl has to eat.
“And how the heck do you get your ‘food’ in and out of my head?”