Spider Soup, Page 3

It was the most appalling scream. Jordan? Her voice choked, constricted by fear. Eyes and face were now spiderwebbed. The woman’s body endured a claustrophobic panic that she might suffocate, and an inner yen to itch so violently it would flay her skin to the bone with finger grooves and ruts. Such insanity felt more perturbing than the whisk of spider feet had been on her flesh. Darcy lay torn between an urgency to shred herself and a fervent wish to shriek her lungs out.

  Cramps seized her, and shivering. A cough attack. Then the tingles within altered to a raking, a striation of minuscule talons, rending and slashing her to ribbons. The imminent peril clutching her in its thrall for hours was this. To each their own nightmare. In hers she served as a shell. There would be no banquet, and she would not transform to a monstrous entity.

  Darcy cringed, overcome by revulsion, the vexation too horrible to cope with as she disintegrated, peeled apart to accommodate an exodus of the bristling critters that scored and lacerated their way out, leaving her in ruins . . .

  The couple stirred at the bottom of the cellar steps where they had been deposited. Shaking off their dreams, they were elated to discover themselves intact, the other alive and whole. A warped disheveled blanket remained, haphazardly woven and strewn from beam to beam, as if a textile factory had exploded. The pods of thread that enveloped them were cut off. Jordan and Darcy embraced, never so eager to be together. They laughed, delirious, then clambered upstairs.

  Hurrying, stooping, the pair ventured through dismal rooms entwined with silk. Legions of spiders had vanished or gone back to hiding. The humans were baffled, having been certain they were about to be consumed by the billions or trillions that had suddenly crawled out of the woodwork.

  Jordan unbolted a sturdy oak door. The entrance was barricaded by strands so gummy and compact, he was prevented from severing them with his bare hands. The man and woman sighed then retraced their path to the kitchen. Drawers were obstructed as well. Darcy located a paring knife in the dishrack next to the sink and extracted it through a space. She gave it to her husband. Warily they hustled to the front door, and Jordy hacked at strings wielding the small knife. It was like blazing a trail in a jungle. Perspiring, hunched over, he wrenched open the portal.

  The newlyweds blinked, surveying a devastated world. Sunlight caused their eyes to water; the drops grew salty and tears flowed as they squinted at the rubble of a neighborhood.

  Jordy hopped down. The porch had been stripped away. He assisted Darcy. Hand in hand, they plodded through a plain of debris. The town had mysteriously been demolished. It struck them how incredibly lucky they had been. As if drained of emotion by the spiders, it took hours to process. They stumbled down roads littered by branches or trees, overturned vehicles, destruction. Then Darcy collapsed in tremors of sorrow. Jordy perched beside her on a smooth section of lumber, once the eave of a roof. He curved an arm around her shoulders.

  The woman wiped her cheeks on grimy fingers. “What do you think did this?”

  Biting his upper lip, Jordan shook his head. “A bomb. An earthquake. A tornado. The spiders knew. Somehow they were forewarned. Animals sense disaster.”

  But maybe it was more than that. Perhaps a guardian angel was peeping over their shoulders, he surmised, and spurred a wave of mass hysteria to shield them. Or the spiders had simply done so out of mutual respect, for protecting their generations.

  The Maynards would learn that a superstorm had brewed in an unstable climate. The cobwebs were so condensed, they cushioned the home’s interior from a massive cyclone that razed the entire community. Though the house’s exterior sustained damage and needed major repairs, the place was still standing — while everything surrounding it had been ravaged.

  There was also a bun in the oven, which would grow into a cute little girl named Zinnia in honor of her great-great-aunt.

  Darcy continued knitting, inspired by their pets. She started an internet store to sell web-designed creations and became as successful as her husband.

  Coincidentally, the tempest was named Arachne.