by MB Mulhall
A New Kind of High
A short story by
MB Mulhall
Published by MB Mulhall
Digital Edition
Copyright 2012 MB Mulhall
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I gag on the scent of fear, wafting through the air. It’s not my fear. Not yet.
What the hell am I doing in here?
“How could you let them talk you into this, Anna?” I chastise myself aloud. “OH, right. Richie Rich the boyfriend paid my way as a “gift.” Some gift…”
I look around the dark square room. Black walls, black floor, black ceiling, black speakers. Nothing particularly stands out as odd, but there’s an air of dread. Something tells me I am not going to make it through this.
It smells like sweat. You know how when you’re attracted to someone and you snuggle up next to them and take a whiff after they’ve done something to get all sweaty and it totally turns you on? Yeah, it’s nothing like that. It’s sour and stale and thick, almost malleable, with hints of urine and vomit commingling at the edges.
I cover my mouth as I feel my lunch threatening to make a comeback. Sorry lunch, you were only meant to be a one hit wonder.
The ominous creaking sound of the heavy door swinging shut makes me nearly jump out of my skin. I am not cut out for this. Is it too late to turn back? Will pounding my fists against the closed door bring someone to my aid? As my world plunges into total darkness, I sense the answer is a resounding “no.”
“Move forward,” a creepy electronic sounding voice orders me. Had I not seen the speakers on the wall before the lights went out, I’d be flailing my arms right about now trying to fight whatever it was that was speaking.
“Move forward,” it repeats. My legs do not want to cooperate. In fact, they feel like they’d prefer to crumble, depositing me on the floor, rather than help me “move forward.”
“Commencing with gas release in 3…2…1…” The hissing of a hundred snakes fills my ears. I pull my shirt up to cover my mouth, bandit style, while willing my legs to unfreeze. Even the lingering scent of fear can’t mask the new cloying almond scent that is falling from the ceiling.
My legs unlock and I run straight forward - at least I hope it’s straight - with one arm out in front, feeling for the handle of the door I remember being there.
My t-shirt barrier is not doing me much good as I start to cough. Frantic, I feel for the long brass handle. My hand connects something cool. Success!
In my haste, I yank so hard the door flies open, clocking me in the forehead. I think I see stars. Pretty twinkling stars. Could be from the lack of clean air, too.
I enter the new room, slamming the door behind me before leaning against the wall and sucking back mouthfuls of clean air. Well, cleaner air anyhow.
This room is equally dark. The wall feels cool and smooth to the touch, the floor slick. I’m scared to leave the safety of having my back flat against something. At least I know this way, nothing can sneak up behind me. If I wait, will the voice command me to move again? Will the gas leak under the door?
This is some crazy shit, I can’t risk it.
Pushing off, I take a couple of steps forward. I have no idea if there’s another door in here. Logic tells me there should be, but the black void gaping in front of me gives no hint on where it might be. I wonder how large the room is and what shape.
There’s silence. My ragged breathing is the only sound I hear. It’s deafening. I wonder if I yell, would it give me an idea of the size of the room? Do I dare? I have no idea what to expect. Inhaling, I set myself up to scream, when I’m suddenly washed in blinding white light. It burns my eyes. Reflexively, I shut them, but moments later I sense I’ve been dunked into the dark again. Slowly, very slowly, I open one eye. When nothing happens, I open the other.
What the hell was that light? Will it come back? I have to calm down. It’s just a light. Light can’t hurt me, right?
Maybe I just need to run. Race through it all. If I can find a way out then I will be safe. Yes. That’ll have to work. Not giving myself time to think of the possible consequences, I race forward, hands out in front of me so I won’t break my nose face planting into a wall or other obstacle.
My outstretched hands come in contact with something. Something…sticky. I try to stop, but momentum has got the best of me. My body makes contact with the substance and I’m stuck, fast.
Oh God. Please tell me I am not stuck to what I think I am stuck to.
From where it hits my body and what I feel with my captive hands, I can tell it’s an intricate working of silken strands that are coated with some tacky substance.
All of a sudden, the light flashes, bright, again. I can’t close my eyes quick enough. A giant horrid shadow, seemingly several feet tall, is thrown against the dark wall quite a few feet in front of me.
Holy crap. Whatever it is, it’s above me, and it’s moving.
The ceiling must be pretty high because the thing looks to be a good six feet over my five foot eight frame. The room should be pretty wide as well to accommodate a web big enough for it. Maybe the shadow is just exaggerated. Light plays those kinds of tricks on a person, right?
Struggling against my adhesive restraints, I tilt my head up as much as possible.
Oooh, how I wish I hadn’t done that.
Eight red eyes are looking down at me. I swear if I could hear its thoughts, it’d be thinking, “Mmmm dinner.”
Shit.
To say I really, really dislike spiders would be a gross understatement. To say I really, really dislike giant spiders would be the lie of the century.
Panic overtakes me, mind and body. I am frantic to try to free myself from the web. My skin pulls painfully as I struggle to get away.
The light goes off and once again I’m thrown into the darkness. I hear a sound like a puppy whimpering. Oh wait, that’s me.
Must.Get.Free.
My pulse is racing as if I was running a marathon. I glance up and sense the monstrous arachnid is making its way down to me.
I don’t want to be this thing’s dinner!
My struggling finally rewards me with a free arm and then a free leg. I brace myself against the slick floor and push off with all the energy I can muster.
Huzzah! I fall to the floor, free of my gluey prison. Scooting back on my butt, I put some distance between me and the eight legged diner.
My chest rises and falls in rapid succession and again I’m aware at just how loud my breathing sounds. My science knowledge fails me as I can’t remember whether or not spiders can see in the dark. Even if they can’t, my labored breathing is a dead giveaway.
Ugh. Bad choice of words.
The strobe-like light goes on again and I notice it reflect off of something on the other side of the web. Another door handle? It’s got to be. What else could it possibly be?
My breathing slows a bit as my brain starts whirling in high speed trying to figure out a way to get to the door without getting caught up in the web again. There must be a way. The whole point is to get through this and survive. There’s got to be a trick to it. A loop hole. Something. I need that light to come back on. My eyes widen as I realize it has been coming on fairly frequently. Maybe it’s on a timer? I vow to count the seconds the next time it shines on.
Thankfully, I don’t have long to wait. Whe
n it flashes back on, my eyes do a wild dance around the room, looking for a possible exit. They land on a space between the floor and the bottom of the web. My adrenaline is pumping. Is it big enough? Will I fit? Where’s the damn spider?! The light clicks off again before I can get a good idea of where my hairy and possibly poisonous friend is hanging out.
Five seconds. That damn light only stays on for five freakin’ seconds. I feel like pulling my hair out.
“Can’t you just work with me a little?” I yell at my invisible tormentors.
I’m going to have to get close in order to slip under the web while the light is still on. As quietly as I can, I move back towards the sticky prison. One of my sneakers makes a god awful squeaking sound against the cement floor as if I was a basketball player on the court. I do my best imitation of a statue, hoping that even if the spider turned my way, it would be waiting for further confirmation on my position. I hold my breath until I feel a burning in my chest and then slowly release it; hoping spider hearing isn’t so sensational.
The strobe light makes another appearance and I find myself face to face with the giant eight legged fiend. To say I screeched like a barn owl would be an insult to owls everywhere. It’s a sound I don’t think I’ve ever heard another human create.
Before the light goes back off, in that very short five second window, I see the spider scamper back. It doesn’t like that sound? Can I do it again, without getting spider