“I bet you’re glad you got transferred to the squad now, eh, lads?”
Wilkins grinned.
“It’s not every day I get cut free from a giant spider web, is it? That story should be worth a few pints back in the mess if nothing else.”
Brock too grinned.
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, sir. Well, maybe down the pub with fitba on the telly but apart from that… ”
Spirits were as high as could be expected. Banks wished his gut would settle; it was grumbling at him again, although he knew even without his early warning system that more trouble wasn’t too far off.
Back in the hallway, Wiggins was passing out ration packs and Banks’ stomach stopped growling for long enough to get something hot besides coffee inside him, although it was spoiled somewhat by the lingering stench of the gore he’d got on his hands and wrists while stabbing the spider. He’d tried washing it off with bottled water but it was ingrained deep. So he took another smoke when Wiggins offered; at least the harshness of the cheap tobacco did much to mask the smell.
The woman, Maggie, knelt on the floor again beside the quiet one, Kim, who wasn’t talking. Banks wasn’t sure she’d be able to tell them more than they’d already guessed; a huge fucking spider got in and carried the missing man off. When Banks had called in to the colonel back home, he’d asked for permission to go out into the city and look for the man but his superior had been adamant.
“You’re to stay where you are, Captain. We can’t lose anybody else. Understand?”
He’d understood more than enough. As a rescue mission, they weren’t doing well and the colonel needed a win to sell to the top brass on their return. Banks main job now was to make sure he got the two women and his squad, home safe. Everything else was secondary to that.
What he hadn’t told anyone yet and what had him worried, was that the chopper would need a largish open area to come down in. The market square they’d come through on their way in was the obvious spot but if the spiders were intent on controlling the town, as appeared to be the case, then getting to the spot might not be easy.
It might not even be possible.
Standing at the doorway looking out over the mangled, shot-up remains of giant spiders wasn’t helping him clear his thoughts enough to come up with a solution. He went back inside to see how the sarge was getting on with the inventory.
“It’s not great news, Cap,” Hynd said when Banks found him checking on Davies. “We’ve hardly got a mag each left for the rifles. We’ve got the handguns of course but I doubt if they’ve got the stopping power if one of the big fuckers comes along.”
“Let’s hope we gave them enough to think about earlier and they leave us alone,” Banks replied.
“We’ll need a plan B if they do come, that’s for sure. We’ve got five minutes of firefight left in us; after that, we’re toast.”
“We need somewhere they can’t get to,” Banks replied. “The chamber here’s out, as we can hardly lock ourselves in.”
“There’s more ammo out on the hill, where we left it. I could take Wiggo and… ”
“Nope. Too risky. And the colonel’s orders are to sit tight and wait.”
“So we wait.”
“Aye. We wait. But not here. There are too many windows and doors to defend easily. We need one room, one entrance to funnel the fuckers towards if need be. Take Wiggo and do a reccy of this courtyard. Find us a spot we can defend without using all our ammo up at once.”
Banks stood at the doorway with a knot in his stomach as Hynd and Wiggins left to circle the yard. Every time one or the other was out of sight inside a building, the knot tightened. Standing by watching men being put in danger on his orders never got any easier but the day it did, it would be the day he walked away from the life.
It took the two men ten minutes to check out the courtyard and on their return Banks knew from their faces that the search had been futile.
“There’s a lot of dead bodies, cocooned like the ones down in the town by the river,” Hynd said. “And not a defensible spot to be had… at least none any better than we’ve got here.”
It made his decision an easy one.
“That settles it. We stay right where we are. And if they come for us, we fall back to the chamber, shut the door enough to keep them out, and then we wait for nightfall.”
Hynd didn’t say it but the question was clear in his face.
And then?
Once they got the heavy door open again, Banks had the others move all the gear back through to the mosaic chamber and ordered Davies to stand guard.
“Watch yon hole up in the corner, lad. Anything tries to come through, blow it to buggery.”
Wiggins brought in the camp stove and coffeepot.
“And get a brew on, there’s a good lad,” Banks added.
Maggie had returned with Wiggins and was now sitting alongside the other woman with an arm around Kim’s shoulders, neither of them speaking. Banks only got a nod of thanks when he passed ‘round a smoke for her, Wiggins, and himself.
“Chin up,” he said to her. “Just a few more hours.”
Maggie didn’t reply but it brought a sob from Kim, and led to a fresh burst of weeping.
“Let her cry,” Banks said softly. “This is a good sign.”
Maggie rose and walked with Banks when he returned to the main doorway. Once there, they smoked in silence for a while before she spoke.
“How do you cope with it?” she said. “The death, I mean. There’s Kim, frazzled and strung out, catatonic, Reynolds and White gone, the rest of the team taking the mystery tour down river and me living on smoke, yet you and your men aren’t affected.”
“Oh, we’re affected all right,” Banks said. “I promise you that. But the training tells us to put that away while there’s a job to be done. If it’s not helping, it’s not helpful. But believe me, we’re affected. With me, it comes mostly on dark quiet nights, at three in the morning. That’s when my dead come back to haunt me, that’s when the training means bugger all.”
“What helps?”
He showed her his cigarette.
“These and booze. Plenty of booze.”
She must have seen the truth of it in his eyes, for she went quiet at that and when she finished her smoke she left without another word.
It remained quiet until around midday. Banks did his best to keep it that way, making sure the men rotated around at regular intervals to stop boredom leading to slackness. They drank coffee, smoked, and kept guard, watching the alleyways and rooftops.
For a while, Banks dared to hope that the firefight in the alleyway had been brutal enough to scare the beasts off from another attack. But after the sun passed its highest point and the shadows stretched across the courtyard, Banks caught a glimpse of movement on the rooftop directly opposite them. One of the dog-sized spiders crawled below a parapet, only its round back showing. Another followed in its wake, then more until there were a dozen or more gathered along a stretch of roof.
One finally showed itself, raising up half the body. A pair of front legs came up, waving, as if tasting the air. Banks studied the beast through his rifle sight, the first chance he’d been given to take time in studying their attackers. As a boy, he’d studied a variety of insects up close under both magnifying glass and microscope and this had the same look to it, of something too large to be real yet so fascinating he couldn’t look away.
The front end looked oval, slightly flattened, with a pair of black, sharp fangs around the mouth, which was little more than a moist tube. He remembered from those childhood investigations that arachnids had no way of chewing food; they like to pierce with the fangs and suck at the juices. The fangs of this one dripped wetly with the same venom that had raged through White, and there was a cluster of a dozen red eyes sat above that, all of which stared back down the scope at him. As if it sensed it was being watched, the sharp fangs clattered together, the rat-tat-tat of its call echoing across the roofs, to be answered by a persistent drumbeat that came from all around, scores, perhaps hundreds of spiders, all calling out in unison.