The Time of The Cat 30

THIRTY

SPIDERS

Liz and I, along with our new Indian friends, hurried around the barn and met up with Rudy, Joe, Colin, and Chandra. They were somewhat surprised to see our new tribal helpers, and I spent a few minutes explaining the Indians’ desire to come to grips with the Pugs. Rudy’s guys listened and nodded at the appropriate times. It seemed like we were going to have a working group.

About the time I finished talking, Jefferson came up and sat by Liz. He was still bristled up and keeping an eye on the barn. He finally turned towards it, stood up, and let out a low yowl.

Stormbreaker said, “What’s wrong with that cat? He looks pissed.”

Charlie obviously hadn’t noticed our cat previously and, thinking that Jefferson was a stray, said, “I’ll just chase him off.”

His statement was met with a chorus of “No” from the guys and me and “Don’t you dare!” from Liz.

He looked puzzled, but meanwhile, Jefferson was making more noise, and it looked like he’d sensed something in the barn. He was watching the door while standing side-wise to it with his back arched up and every hair sticking out at right angles. It made him look at least twice as big as he actually was.

“Get ready! There’s more Pugs in there. Maybe they came through the transporter link,” I said.

I was wrong. We had killed all of the Pugs, but the barn had a bunch of those nasty spider-things in it. A group of them came out of the door, moving towards us in a scuttling rush across the sparse grass and dirt in the barnyard.

Liz and I pulled our conventional pistols and were banging away immediately. It took Rudy’s group about a half-second to follow our lead. The Indians were a little slower, but not much. Between all of us, we shot all of the things before they’d reached where we were standing.

“There’s probably more in there,” I said. “We’d best be really careful about going in.”

“Why would we want to go in there?” asked Charlie.

“To get to the transporter,” Liz replied in a tone of voice that implied that she thought she was talking to a child.

Stormbreaker added, “You want to kill some of them Pugs or not?”

Charlie responded by starting to walk towards the barn while looking over his shoulder at us, “You ain’t calling me no coward, are you?”

Coward he may not have been, but foolish, he was. As he got close to the barn, another rush of spiders came out.

We started shooting them, but he was in the way, and we couldn’t hit them all. He turned and shot a couple, but one ran right up his front and latched onto his cheek with those nasty fangs. He let out a scream and slapped it down to the ground, but it was too late. Colin shot it. By now, we were close, and it was an easy shot. Charlie was thrashing his arms around in the air, he’d dropped his rifle, and he suddenly sat down and then fell over on his side. His face looked awful, cheek swollen out like a football. The swelling burst, and green fluid came out and ran down his neck.

He let out another scream and thrashed around as his neck turned black and dissolved. The corruption suddenly reached his carotid and opened it up, causing blood to spurt in the air in large gouts as his heart raced. The blood turned black as it arched through the air, the poison was so fast acting.

“There’s nothing you can do!” Liz yelled as the Indians jumped forward to help. “Stay away from him!”

Her warning was too late, as one of the men got splashed by some of Charlie’s blood. It was barely a drop on his arm, but it caused his arm to immediately turn black. He stood there looking at it in shock as the skin dissolved and the bones began to show. I was sure that was the end of him, but Stormbreaker had the presence of mind to whip out his machete and slash the poor fellow’s arm right off.

He let out a scream as he saw his forearm drop to the ground, but by the time it hit, only the bones and some rapidly liquefying flesh were left. Stormbreaker and one of the other men grabbed him and wrapped a belt around the bleeding stub.

“We’ve got to get him to the hospital,” Stormy said. “Bull, you and Mad Crow take that Caddy over there and drive him into town for help. Bull, keep him from loosening the tourniquet. Crow, you drive like hell.”

Rudy spoke up, pointing, “It’s not very far back that way, and the hospital is easy to find.”

The men grabbed the moaning victim and hustled him into the car. They took off in a cloud of dust on their mercy run.

Stormbreaker looked at the remaining two Shoshone. “Still game?” he asked in about as grim a tone of voice as I’ve ever heard.

“Damn straight,” one of them said. The other didn’t say anything; he simply contented himself with picking up Charlie’s AR-10 and shoving some more .308 cartridges into its nearly depleted magazine.

Stormbreaker said, “Get the other rifles and those alien guns. We’re going to need them.” Then he turned and started towards the barn.

“Wait!” I exclaimed. I was watching Jefferson. He was slowly approaching the barn, bristled out as much as before.

“There are still some in there,” Liz said excitedly.

We all moved forward on either side of the door to more easily avoid another rush.

“Don’t shoot each other,” Rudy cautioned.

“We weren’t born yesterday, paleface,” Stormbreaker muttered.

I peeped around the corner and saw a couple of the creatures moving near the back of the structure. There were two AK shots, and the things shattered. No more appeared, so we moved carefully into the barn.

It was hard to see in there. There were some holes in the roof that let beams of light shine down into the gloom. Dust motes drifted in the shafts of light. The whole place smelled of dust, moldy hay, and dried manure. The contrast between the dim barn and the brilliant rays of light made it difficult to see.

Jefferson let out a yowl, and there was a rush of scrabbling creatures from the back-right stall. We fired until there were none in that group left alive.

While we were looking at the dead creatures, Liz heard some clicking from the hay mow and shot two moving shadows that were preparing to leap off at us. We looked at each other. Except for the light breeze blowing around the corner of the door and the sound of some distant crows cussing at a hawk, all was silent.

“The transporter we came in on is in the back left stall. Spread out and look for the other one and be careful. There might be some spiders left,” I ordered as I turned to look in the front stall.

Directly, Joe called, “It’s over here in the feed room. It’s all clear.”

We gathered in front of the door, and Liz pressed the call button. The door snapped open.

“We’re going into Estes Park from here,” I said. “Get ready because they will be there, somewhere. We may have to shoot our way in.”

“And, out!” muttered Colin in a thicker brogue than usual.