by Emma Read
‘I come in peace.’ Milton raised a leg and looked as small and unthreatening as he could. ‘Er, take me to your leader?’
‘Milton?’ came a voice from the back of the crowd.
He looked up as a small brown spider pushed its way to the front. ‘MILTON! It is you! Oh, my stickiest of webs, you’re really here, you found me!’
Milton felt all the air leave his book lungs. His spinnerets went dry and his legs were shaking, but there he was – a small false widow spider called Maximus.
‘Dad.’ Milton’s voice was quiet, even for a spider the size of a tiny ‘ōhelo berry.
For a moment no one moved as the spiders regarded one another. Then, slowly, the older spider walked forward and gathered his son in his legs and hugged him with all his might.
As they let go of one another, Milton’s dad turned to the gathered happy-face spiders. ‘Everyone, it is my pleasure to introduce you to my son, Milton.’
A happy-face spider with a big red grin on his abdomen rushed over. ‘My dear Maximus, I am happy as happy can be to meet your long-lost Milton.’ And he shook Milton’s front leg enthusiastically. ‘I am Hau‘oli, and these are the Spinnerettes.’
Milton was engulfed by yellow. And singing!
‘Happy to see you, happy you’re here, happy to meet you, happy all year.’
‘They’re always singing songs about being happy,’ laughed Maximus. ‘Oh, Milton, I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for this moment.’
‘Any son of Maximus is a son to us all. We’re family, did you know?’ Hau‘oli grinned with both of his faces.
Milton nodded. ‘You’re a Theridion grallator, a relative of mine. We’re both in the family Theridiidae.’
Hau‘oli grinned. ‘We’re a big family and happy to welcome all. Except these humans. They are not so welcoming.’
‘They’re tearing down the rainforest in huge chunks. Hau‘oli and the Spinnerettes here are in grave danger. The diggers are surrounding this area, and pretty soon we’ll be cut off and ripped from the earth, like so many others.’ Maximus shivered and Milton realized with surprise how old his dad looked.
‘That’s why I’m here. I’ve got a plan to stop them,’ said Milton, looking to his dad for approval.
We haven’t even had a chance to talk.
All Milton’s worries about Dad being angry or disappointed in him floated away. Maximus just looked sad, and worried.
‘Hau‘oli, it’s wonderful to meet you, and I hope I’m not being rude, but would you mind if I had a moment with my dad. I’ve not seen him for such a long time and . . .’ He let his words fall to the ground.
And I don’t know what to say.
‘We will prepare a proper Hawaiian happy-face lū‘au for your reunion – a traditional party – there will be much singing! You talk, be together, we’re safe . . . for a while.’
Milton and Maximus found a shaded spot under a waxy green leaf.
‘Milton.’ Maximus stopped, as if he too couldn’t quite find the words. They touched claws and then, as though this had completed some kind of circuit, they both began talking at once.
‘I’ve missed you so much.’
‘You won’t believe what’s been happening.’
‘I’m so glad I found you.’
And then at the same time, they burst into tears.
‘I’m sorry about the supermarket crate, Dad. I didn’t save you.’
Maximus held Milton at leg’s reach. ‘Milton! It wasn’t your job to save me. It was my job to protect you and I failed because of my reckless curiosity. I see you haven’t been taking my advice about sticking to the dark corners.’
‘I’m your son,’ said Milton, wiping his eight eyes and shrugging.
‘Yes, you are.’ Maximus held him tight. ‘I am so proud.’
Initiation
The golf buggy tipped and lurched across the golf course, narrowly missing several sand traps, two irate golfers in pink trousers and a flock of nene geese.
‘Get us off this golf course!’ yelled Zoe, who was bouncing around in the back like a rodeo rider, and looking pretty sick to boot.
‘There’s the road,’ shouted Dad. He careened around the seventh-hole flag, over a punishing patch of rough grass and, thankfully, plopped smoothly on to the slick tarmac.
And right into a traffic jam.
‘This is a nightmare!’ wailed Zoe. ‘We’ll never reach them now.’
‘We will, because we must. Greta is up there and that volcano is gearing up for an eruption.’ He got out of the buggy and climbed on to the front, looking really quite heroic. Or possibly just weird.
‘What are you doing?’ Zoe shouted over the honking horns.
‘Trying to see what’s going on,’ said Dad, shielding his eyes from the sun.
What was going on was that Mako’s daughter, Jenna, was jogging towards them.
‘Hi, Owen, why are you standing on a golf buggy? Actually, never mind, we haven’t much time. A certain white limo has crashed into a JCB further up the road – he’s blocking both lanes, so if you’re planning on a trip up the mountain you’d better come quickly.’ She pointed across the road at a white van with a WEBZ/19 News logo on the side. ‘Come on, hop in. We’ll take the back roads, but we’ll have to be quick – Bradley O’Hair was getting back in his monstrosity of a car when I left.’
They bundled into the van, did a three-point turn, accidentally-maybe-on-purpose denting the golf buggy in the process, and sped off in the opposite direction towards the coast road.
A plan for helping Greta and Mako and taking out the heavy machinery was gradually forming in Milton’s head, but first there had to be a singalong, then a feast and something special that Hau‘oli had promised.
‘Shiny happy spiders, holding claws,’ sang the Spinnerettes as Milton and Maximus tucked into ambrosia beetles and fire ants.
Hau‘oli was explaining about the patterns on their backs. ‘We’re all different, but all the same. Some of us have bold markings, some none at all – we celebrate our individuality.’
‘Yours are amazing,’ said Milton, admiring Hau‘oli’s abdomen. It looked like a little clown face. Not the kind that made Zoe hide behind a cushion – this one was cute, with a big, wide smile, little black-dot eyes and arched eyebrows.
‘Why do you have the faces, though?’ asked Milton.
‘Same as you,’ said Hau‘oli. ‘To make others happy. Your markings are charming. The little beige face and dotty eyes. It gives me such joy to see you.’
‘How can you be so happy with your home about to be destroyed?’ Milton couldn’t understand the spiders’ permanent positivity.
‘Well,’ said Hau‘oli, gathering the Spinnerettes to him. ‘It reminds me of a song I know.’
The false widows settled down with a grasshopper smoothie to listen as the group sang about not making your troubles double by worrying about them. They all sang along with the chorus.
‘Don’t worry, be happy.’
After the singing, which included two encores and one karaoke, the happy-faces suddenly fell silent and a hush spread across the ferns.
Hau‘oli reared up on his hind four legs and the rest of the Spinnerettes formed a semicircle around Milton, bowing their cephalothoraxes and raising their abdomens, their happy faces surrounding him, swaying in a somewhat alarming fashion.
Milton’s heart began to beat faster than the music had been.
Is this a trap? What if they’re cannibals and they’re going to eat me? I shouldn’t speak to strange species. Why don’t I ever think these things through?
The happy-face spiders drummed their claws on the ground, faster and faster, louder and louder and then Hau‘oli brought his front legs down and they stopped. Silence.
Milton stopped breathing.
‘Cousin Milton, from far-off lands, brought to us by human hands—’
They’re chanting. Chanting is bad.
‘You find us in our time of need . . .’
&
nbsp; Here it comes, I’m going to be eaten, what rhymes with need . . .? FEED!!
‘This makes us VERY HAPPY INDEED!’
The Spinnerettes cheered and picked Milton up on their shoulders, shouting, ‘Oh, happy day!’ and spinning him around. They put him down in front of Hau‘oli and Maximus, who was beaming with pride and holding a tiny paintbrush made of burr bristles.
‘Welcome, Milton. You are now officially a Spinnerette!’ Another cheer went up as Dad painted a red smile on Milton’s back in berry juice.
I’m initiated into the group! Not being made into soup.
This singing thing was catching.
Spinnerettes Assemble!
The happy-face spiders were congratulating Milton, crowding round him and cheering, but it was being drowned out by the roar of chainsaws.
‘OK, it’s time to take action,’ Milton shouted. ‘Bradley O’Hair’s gang have snared my big human friends. They came here to save you all, now we have to save them.’
‘How can we do this,’ asked Hau‘oli, ‘when we are so small?’
‘We are small, but our webs are mighty,’ replied Milton, remembering the incredible web displays they had made at the start of the #NotScaredOfSpiders campaign. ‘We have powers they don’t expect, and we are many. Gather together and follow me and we will show these O’Hairy people what it means to be big!’
Milton and his dad swung towards the din of the machines, with the chanting Hau‘oli and the Spinnerettes following behind. The sun was creeping down behind the mountain and the emerald green of the rainforest was giving way to shade.
Someone blew a whistle and the digger crew switched off their engines and stretched their legs.
‘NOW!’ called Milton.
The spiders spread out around the site, keeping under cover, then headed in groups for the vehicles and machines.
‘Work fast,’ Milton whispered to himself, as he clambered on to a digger.
He and Maximus slipped easily inside the bonnet. The heat was incredible, like nothing they had ever felt, not even with the radiators at home on full blast. ‘Some of these parts are hotter than lava. Take care,’ said Milton’s dad.
Milton wiped his brow and began to spin.
Over on the back road, Jenna, Zoe and Mr Macey were making better time up the mountain, now they were in a vehicle that could actually do the speed limit.
They got as close as they could to where O’Hair’s team were working, then set off along a nearby hiking trail, going downhill, which was a relief to them all, especially Jenna, who was lugging her camera.
Zoe watched Jenna, impressed that she could drive and had a real job, even if it was with her dad. As she took a moment to wonder if Greta would let her work at the zoo, fear gripped her. What if Greta was hurt or in trouble? What if she never saw Milton again? How could she have left them without saying goodbye? She’d let her anger get in the way of everything and Greta probably thought she hated her.
Zoe hit a patch of soft leaves and slipped. Her dad grabbed her by the hand to steady her and a warm rush ran through her body. She hadn’t realized how tense she was, and feeling her hand in her dad’s steadied her more than physically.
‘Thanks.’ She looked back at him, not letting go. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you too, sweetheart.’
She felt suddenly overwhelmed by emotion. Not only her own, but her dad’s too. It was as if it was being transmitted through her hand. His love, his pride, his desire to protect her, yet an understanding that she was quite capable, and one day, wouldn’t need him so much.
She squeezed his hand. How silly – she would always need her dad. And, she realized, she needed Milton and Greta too. She desperately hoped she’d get the chance to tell them both.
No one said much. The forest was strangely quiet and the sun was taking a relaxed ride to the horizon.
Jenna broke the silence. ‘Are we going the right way? I’m not hearing construction work.’
Mr Macey looked left and right, then up through the trees. It all looked the same, which was to say, utterly different from how it’d looked from the helicopter. Then a familiar voice came squawking down the path behind them.
‘Theft of my golf buggy! Assault on my delicate person! Dangerous animals!’ It was Bradley O’Hair, red-faced and out of breath, huffing down the hillside towards them. ‘Stop right there.’
Zoe and her dad groaned. Jenna raised the camera.
Dillon appeared from behind his dad. ‘Hi, Zee!’ He waved cheerily.
Owen looked at Zoe, confused. ‘You know him?’
Zoe nodded, hoping that she hadn’t made a mistake trusting him.
‘Right, then, Dillon. Here’s how you make a citizen’s arrest. Watch and learn, my son.’
‘How about we arrest you, for crimes against nature?’ said Owen, standing as tall as he could.
‘And crimes against fashion,’ muttered Jenna, adjusting her focus. ‘Jenna Gonzalez, WEBZ/19 News. You’re destroying the forest out here, aren’t you, Mr O’Hair?’
‘Definitely not.’ Redness crept across Bradley’s cheeks.
‘Well, you are a bit, Dad,’ said Dillon.
‘Shush. I’m not destroying as such. Rearranging. That’s all.’
‘And how many endangered species have you “rearranged”?’ said Jenna.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Bradley pushed the camera away and started to say something, but Dillon interrupted. ‘Yeah, you do. Remember when you told me that a few buggish creatures didn’t matter, that the world would be better off without them, and there was loads of other green stuff to keep the tree huggers happy?’
Bradley’s whole face was red now and he blustered and fumbled for words.
‘Dad, they matter more than you think. You should listen to Zoe – she knows what she’s talking about. There are important species up here, like the spiders. They’re vital for a healthy ecosystem and they need protecting.’
‘You are going to bed early tonight, young man.’
‘Yeah, OK. Whatever. Look, I know the business isn’t doing well, but you can’t be losing that much. And, anyway, there are more important things than money.’
‘But I’m on the verge of becoming Bradley O’Hair: Millionaire. That’s what I call a disaster. I’d be . . . BOM.’ He let out a little sob.
Zoe shook her head in disbelief. ‘Mr O’Hair, you can’t seriously think building a golf course on the side of a mountain is going to solve your business problems? It’s –’ she searched for a polite way to say it – ‘steep.’
‘But the views are spectacular.’ Bradley composed himself. ‘Look, how about we forget about your criminal activities for now and you all just go back to the hotel? Have a cocktail on the roof terrace, use the pool – anything.’
‘Sure, we’ll go. We’ll just carry on our hike down the hill,’ said Jenna, swinging the camera around.
‘No, not that way. You can’t go down there. It’s top secret. Something special to get me on the front page of House and Hotel magazine.’
Bradley dashed in front of them, reaching his hands out as wide as he could to block their path. ‘In fact, you’re all trespassing, so go away. Right now.’
Then from further down the track they heard shouting. A lot of shouting.
The happy-face spiders fled in all directions, web-swinging from the cabs and wheel arches, back into the trees where they clung on to the underside of the leaves, panting, shaking, hoping they’d done enough.
Milton and Maximus fled too. They had been inside the bulldozer engine closest to where Greta and Mako were tied up, and that was where they headed.
Fury was spreading like wildfire as the construction crew tried in vain to start their engines. One leant out of the cab of his digger. ‘Sir, nothing’s working. What’s going on?’
‘I don’t like it,’ said another, backing away from his vehicle, looking spooked. ‘It’s not natural.’
‘You’re the ones who aren’t natural!’
shouted Greta. ‘You tried to destroy nature. But nature is fighting back.’
The angry worker who had tied them up came at her, waving a spanner in his hands. ‘Shut up, tree-hugger. Nature’s no match for us. I don’t know what you’ve done to our engines, or how you did it, but you’re not so smart if you think you’ve stopped—’
‘Er, sir?’ One of the workers was leaning into a bonnet, grimacing. ‘It’s totally gummed up the engines.’ He pulled his hand away with great strings of gluey web attached, stretching out of the vehicle like pizza cheese. ‘All of them are the same. I think they’re a write-off.’
Hau‘oli joined Milton and Maximus and they climbed to the roof of the cocktail shack. He took a deep breath and started chanting: ‘Nananana.’
Milton and Maximus joined in.
‘Nananana, nananana, nananana . . .’
The call spread across the rainforest, Hawaiian happy-face spiders all singing together. Other spiders joined in and before long the forest was filled with the hum, for those who had the leg hairs to hear it.
‘What are we singing?’ asked Milton.
‘Nananana means spider in Hawaiian. The happy faces call themselves nananana makaki‘i – the second word means mask. It’s their call to arms.’
And with that, a swarm of spiders crawled across the forest floor and in a yellow and brown and black and white blur they made a start on chewing the ropes binding Greta and Mako’s wrists.
They were just about done when Zoe, Dillon, Owen, Jenna and a frantic Bradley O’Hair came crashing into the clearing.
Rumbled in the Jungle
There was a strange moment of silence as the new arrivals to the clearing simply stopped, frozen, mouths open. Even Bradley didn’t make a sound, although Milton could practically see his brain working.
‘WOW, look at this!’ he stuttered. ‘What a mess.’ He gained confidence. ‘Obviously this has nothing to do with me. My project is way further down the hill. Yes, that’s it. This is someone else’s terrible devastation. Nothing to do with—’