Spider Legs Page 3

  The rhinoceros-shaped iceberg now loomed above her, more beautiful than any sculpture created by the hands of humans. The sun gave a kind of smooth brilliance to the whiteness of the iceberg hulk. Wherever there were cracks there were also veins of pale violet melt water that had flowed into the cracks and had refrozen. Again she gazed up at the ice horn pointing up at the blue sky like a hitchhiker's thumb. But where was the dark area that formed its eye? She looked some more. There it was, to the left.

  The eye formation on the iceberg moved. Kalinda gasped. As the craft edged ever closer to the berg, her hands slipped on the wooden steering wheel. They were cold and clammy.

  The eye moved again.

  “Garth, wake up.” There was no noise from below the hatch. She killed the engine. “Garth?” As she walked to the hatch, she felt a nervous shiver go up her spine. She poked her head inside and saw her husband motionless on their small bed. His eye-lids fluttered with the rapid movement of his eyes. Garth was dreaming.

  Kalinda hesitated. She was alarmed about what she had seen, but she knew it was probably some natural phenomenon that Garth would immediately explain. On the other hand, his dreams were often special. If she let him wake naturally, he would share his dream with her before it faded, and they would both be richer. For a long time she had been interested in the rich and largely untapped realm of dream symbolism. Kalinda had taught Garth certain psychological methods for momentarily awakening to report his dreams to her before he fell back to sleep to continue his dreaming. They both practiced and enjoyed remembering their dreams. The sharing of dreams had improved their understanding of themselves and brought them closer as a couple. So she stifled her probably baseless fear and waited; she knew it would not be long.

  It wasn't. In a moment he opened his eyes, saw her, and immediately spoke his dream, knowing that she would remember it better than he would, because she was fully awake and rational. Freshness was everything, because the details faded like morning fog, leaving no trace if not caught early. And indeed it turned out to be worthwhile.

  He had dreamed that he was a child back at his parents’ house in Asbury Park, New Jersey. He had just purchased a strange new aquatic animal for his 110-gallon tropical fish tank. The tank was in the basement, already filled with a dazzling array of marine species: orange clown fish, long-snouted coralfish, powder blue surgeonfish, and wimplefish—all from the Indo-Pacific. When he dropped the newcomer into the tank, it immediately settled to the bottom. It looked a little like a tube worm with a sludge-green, chalky outer tube. When threatened, or at night, it retracted its pinky tentacles and hairlike projections, and closed the hinged lid at the top of its inch-thick tube. It seemed to eat the same prepared flake food that the other fish enjoyed—except it ate a lot more than other fish. Occasionally, he supplemented the diet with freeze-dried krill, blood worms, and brine shrimp. So voracious was the tube worm that over the next few weeks Garth went through several cans of food. Each day the animal grew in size until one day it was so large it climbed out of the tank and waited in the corner of the room. When Garth came down to feed the fish, he saw that his hairy specimen was no longer in the tank. He looked around the room near the tank, and then a movement caught his eye. From the corner of the room, it came at him, with large saberlike teeth. Young Garth screamed and ran up the basement steps, the animal hot in pursuit. As he reached the basement door, he found to his horror it was locked. On the door was a computer keyboard and computer screen. The screen had the words:

  PLEASE KEYPRESS CORRECT PASSWORD TO OPEN DOOR.

  Garth typed one password after another on the keyboard, desperately, but none opened the door. The worm came closer and closer as it navigated the basement steps. Its moist body undulated along the carpet like that of a snake. It was only three steps away. Two steps away. One step away. Garth then suffered a fevered flash of inspiration and typed the password “DEATH,” the door finally opened, and—

  “And that's as far as it goes, right now,” he concluded. “I'd better finish it.” At which point he closed his eyes and returned to sleep. He'd trained himself not to fear his dreams.

  This was too much. He might sleep for another hour, now, and the continuation would be lost in the welter of the following dreams. They had gotten all they could. Her concern for what was outside returned, perhaps augmented by the horror of the dream itself.

  “Garth? Wake up,” Kalinda called.

  For a moment Garth was disoriented, trying to shake off the ashes of his weird dream, but then he realized where he was. Kalinda was heading outside the moment she saw him sit up. He stumbled after her, out of the hatch and on to the bright deck.

  “What's wrong?” he asked, his attention shifting to the iceberg. “Wow, you discovered a magnificent berg.”

  “There was something on it that moved. It's not there any more.”

  “Maybe it was a chunk of ice that slipped.” As Garth watched the iceberg he seemed not fully focused, and she knew he was trying to recall details of his weird dream and the atmosphere of impending doom. She would feed those details back to him as soon as this other thing was checked.

  “It couldn't be,” she said. “It was something dark. It looked like it was alive.”

  “The light plays tricks. Could still be ice.”

  “Garth, I thought I saw legs.”

  “A bear? I think most of the bears this far north are white.”

  “It was as big as this ship. Maybe bigger.”

  He looked at her. “Just which one of us was dreaming?” he asked, smiling.

  She remained serious. “I got your dream. But this was no dream. It alarms me. I don't know what I saw.”

  “Natalie saw something in the sea,” he said, remembering. “I wonder—?”

  “Maybe so. She was shaken. So am I.”

  He did not try to joke any more, realizing that something strange was happening. She was relieved. She still hoped that he would come up with a natural explanation.

  They looked around at the iceberg and the glittering water but saw and heard nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps there was a smell of low tide and crawling things, but nothing more. Now and then long streaks of sunlight shot through the cloudy sky and glimmered on the multihued facets of ice in the surrounding sea. “Whatever it was,” Garth said, “I guess we can't do too much about it now. It still could have been a trick of the light.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes listening to the strong tonal contrasts of the sea and the gulls. In the distance they saw a few men riding on 16-foot-long fiberglass boats. The sleek crafts resembled outrigger canoes. One of the men pushed and pulled on the boat's sweep oar and moved his feet as if he were pedaling a bicycle to move the craft forward. Garth changed the subject.

  “How about we get something to eat?”

  “OK, would you like a tuna sandwich?” Kalinda asked. There was obviously no point in worrying further about what she might have imagined.

  “Sounds great.”

  “Onions, paprika, mayonnaise?”

  “Perfect.” Even though he had had a late breakfast of eggs, bacon, homefries, and buttered toast, the cool fresh air had an invigorating effect which made him particularly hungry. She had seen it before. After such a cholesterol-rich meal, she thought he should have a few fruits and vegetables.

  “How about another apple?” he said, agreeing.

  “Coming right up.”

  Kalinda suddenly started and cocked her head in the direction of one of the boat's railings. She ran toward the bow. "What was that?"

  “What?”

  “I heard a scraping noise. Sounded like scratching.”

  “Where?”

  She slowly made her way to the aft rail. There was a creeping uneasiness at the bottom of her heart. Her emotions reminded her of the times her neighbor's dog ran after her when she was only seven years old. The dog was a large one, a German shepherd. Often Kalinda would come home crying to her mother as the dog outside barked and barked. Her m
other complained to the dog's owner and finally the dog was kept inside the house when Kalinda walked home from school.

  “Maybe a chunk of ice brushed against the boat,” Garth said. Kalinda feared she was beginning to give him the jitters, instead of being reassured by him. He looked all around. His tension seemed to rise a few percentage points. Still nothing unusual. But she didn't like this at all.

  Boom. Boom. The scratching noises turned to dull thuds which grew in volume. Now there was no doubt at all that something was up. She tried to suppress her wildest and most unreasonable fears, with little success.

  “Maybe we should stay in the cabin and shut the door,” Kalinda said.

  “I think it will be OK. It's probably a baby whale. Won't hurt us.”

  Then a strange expression crossed his face. He was staring at her, or beyond her, eyes wide, jaw slack. “What is it, Garth?” she asked, feeling a tight knot of panic.

  The ship began to rock back and forth. Water splashed onto the deck. Garth's mouth worked without producing sound as he looked around the ship. It was as if he had a pressing need to confirm he was on his own boat, that the universe had not just swiveled into some insane new dimension. He gazed at the familiar rails, gleaming deck, weathered ropes, as if willing some horror to go away. But whatever it was remained.

  “Garth—” she said, clinging to a semblance of equilibrium. “What's happening?"

  One quarter of the vessel's railing disappeared off the side of the ship, as if torn away by some colossal hand.

  “Get away from the rail,” Garth cried. She stepped away from it, then slowly turned. Before she looked back, Kalinda suddenly felt numb, as if her feelings were paralyzed. What could possibly be there? She forced her eyes to focus.

  Slowly, a huge jointed leg appeared from the water near the lost rail. When she turned toward the rail, trying to make sense of this phantom, she saw the leg lift high, coming toward her.

  Kalinda threw back her head and screamed a guttural cry of terror. She pirouetted back toward Garth but slipped on the wet deck. Now two more legs appeared as the monster tried to clamor onto the deck. There was a brittle crack of weathered wood, as the engine was torn off the boat. So sharp was the chitinous exoskeleton of the sea spider, that it left inch-deep scratch marks on the planking.

  For that was what it was, she realized. An impossibly enormous spider in the sea, a creature vaguely like that of Garth's dream, only much bigger and more horrible in form. Now she saw its awful snout emerging from the water, coming over the deck, dripping sea water or saliva. She saw its gangly body heaving up. This was worse than any nightmare!

  Kalinda crawled away. The sea spider came closer. It loomed over her. Ice-cold water ran off the crevices in its body onto her—water so cold that it felt like an electric shock to her skin. She dragged her body forward a few steps, but was seconds too slow. The sea spider's leg came down on her foot with a tremendous force and tore half of it off with a crunching sound. She didn't even feel the pain, just heard the crunching as she wrenched her leg away. She looked back as if mesmerized. The multilegged attacker used it chelicerae for seizing and carrying Kalinda's half-foot to its mouth. There didn't seem to be much bleeding, oddly.

  “Gaah,” Kalinda choked and shoved her fist into her mouth. She did not yet go into shock but continued to struggle, desperate to squeeze herself behind one of the large wooden boat masts, determined to place the mast between her and the monster. She held onto the mast with all her strength, only partially aware of the stinging pain in her fingers when she tore her thumbnails.

  The sea spider continued to suck on her foot, and then, without warning, cracked the mast into two pieces. Blood oozed from the stump of her foot as she tried to tear a piece of her shirt to make a tourniquet. But the shirt would not tear. Kalinda felt as if her eyes had become as sunken as the eyes of a cadaver.

  A vile ammonia odor filled the ship. Garth threw a fire extinguisher at the alien creature, but it continued to come toward Kalinda. It did not hesitate or seem concerned by Garth's movements.

  “I'm coming,” Garth said as he stepped closer to grab her. But the spider was too close to Kalinda to allow him to reach her without himself being trampled into human hamburger. The ammonia smell burned their nasal passages, made their eyes tear. Ridiculously Garth ran to the monster and gave a swift, vicious kick to one of its legs.

  “Look out!” Kalinda screamed as the leg responded by shoving Garth into a piece of the mast. His eyes were flecked with pain as he toppled sideways. A spine on one of the legs ripped into him, so devastating that he dropped to the deck, surely feeling pain like nothing he had ever known. As he lay there stunned for a few seconds his mouth worked, and she heard him speak, as from a distance.

  “Oh, Kalinda,” he gasped. “I love you, and I will protect you! You can't die, you aren't going to die . . .”

  Tears came through her horror as she struggled to her feet, ignoring the lancing pain from her mutilated foot. In the face of this dreadful threat, all he was thinking of was her!

  The creature came swiflty up from behind Kalinda. She stepped to one side to let the creature pass and almost blacked out with pain as one of its leg spikes skewered her, its tan and white tip slicing red hot into the flesh of her chest, scraping along her sternum like fingernails on a blackboard and emerging five inches from the point of entry. She twisted with the force of the blow, taking the spine with her. A pain shot like lightning from her chest to her skull. At the same time she reacted instinctively, smashing the knuckles of her stiffened right hand into a softer area right at the creature's leg joint. The spider seemed surprised, but that was about all. It rose slowly above her, its huge black expressionless eyes staring into her own. There was no doubt it intended to consume her.

  Garth screamed. Having no weapons aboard the Phantom to protect himself and Kalinda, it seemed likely that the monster would succeed in making Kalinda its next meal.

  Now the cold water and air was beginning to have an anesthetizing effect on Kalinda. The sea water splashed on her by the spider left her with a fraction of her sense of touch. Her face was numb. She saw Garth look at her, and knew that she seemed more like an apparition, unreal, lost, already on the threshold of death.

  Kalinda's heartbeat accelerated as she looked back and up at the creature's multiple bulging eyes. It loomed over her like a giant hideous balloon in a Thanksgiving parade. The balloon resemblance, however, was only superficial: vile black liquid oozed from the creature's pores and several lesions of decay. Kalinda smelled its fetid body as it edged ever closer. Its eyes looked her over with the compassionless, hungry practicality of a vulture. Yet she remained aware of peripheral things. From overhead, gulls swooped in large arcs across a sky filled with vague perpetual clouds.

  “Garth—” She ended in a gargle of blood and collapsed to the deck as she began to choke. She could no longer move or talk, yet she remained conscious, able to see and hear. It was as if she had entered another realm, as a nonparticipant. She was aware of what her husband was doing. She wanted to cry to him to get away, to hide in the cabin, to radio for help. She was done for; she knew that. But maybe while the spider consumed her, Garth would have time to save himself.

  Garth licked his lips. She knew he had tasted his own blood and realized he had bitten into his tongue. Somehow he managed to get to his feet, dragging his battered body backward. He stood frozen for a moment but then must have remembered that there was a large pole downstairs in the hatch. Perhaps he could wedge this into the pycnogonid's sucking appendage or stab at one of its eyes with it.

  She heard him get up and stumble toward the hatch. He grabbed the doorknob, but the hatch door was jammed. “Open, damn you,” he cried. He banged on it. He tugged again, and the door sprang free. He barged in.

  Now Kalinda moaned, hoping that Garth could not hear her. She didn't want him to be distracted as he fought to save his own life. Blood was pulsing past the sharp bony spine in her chest. What remained of h
er shirt was soaked, and she could feel the sticky warmth spreading. She began to feel totally disoriented—and icy cold.

  But she remained aware of Garth, hearing his footsteps, knowing what he was doing. She knew he loved her; she loved him just as passionately, and knew his ways. She could track him by the tiniest sounds and pauses. He quickly surveyed the cabin and found the six-foot pole lying against a life preserver. She knew he was desperate, that her situation was a nightmare beyond anything he had ever encountered. She didn't want to make it worse.

  So as the dreadful spider legs closed on her, she didn't even try to scream or struggle. Probably she wouldn't have been able to anyway. She played dead, knowing it was her only chance. It wasn't far from the reality. She let the legs haul her up and away in silence. She remained attuned to Garth, not because she had any further illusion that he could save her, but because his image was her best and fondest link to sanity.

  He grabbed the pole and ran back toward the deck. He burst through the cabin door, his face the color of oatmeal. She knew, without seeing. He stood there on deck, trembling with fear. But Kalinda was gone. There was no movement. He looked in all directions, calling out, “Kalinda!” He looked over the rail; the surface of the tomb-deep ocean was opaque, impenetrable.

  Garth reached out with his right hand toward the spot where Kalinda last stood. “Kalinda.” He needed to hold her, and she wished she could oblige. “Kalinda?” The mahogany trim on the boat was splashed with blood, and the fabric of some of the sails was sodden and crimson. The desire to find her was so intense that his body began to shake. His legs became rubbery. She knew.

  Reality shifted for a few seconds, so there was not even the whisper of a sound. Then the world came tumbling back into focus. There was the muted crack of icicles from the nearby glacier. Swallowing hard, Garth ran back to the cockpit, pulled the door shut, grabbed hold of a microphone attached to the radio and shouted, “Newfoundland radio—this is the schooner Phantom! We have no engine. Our masts are destroyed. We need help . . .”