Salticidae (6 page)

Like right now.

Big Death remained half submerged in the cool water, eyeing the approaching bull some hundred yards away. He recognized this particular bull as a former member of his own pod. It still had the slight limp from when Big Death had bit its hind leg when it was a baby, a preemptive attack to ensure it knew its proper place in the family. Despite the leg wound, the bull had grown large over time. Weeks ago it had been meandering on the outskirts of the pod before finally disappearing, probably to join another family. But now it was back, spying. And Big Death knew it had plans.

Big Death ducked his head under the water and wa
tched the numerous legs of his females all around him. He lifted his head up again and saw that his aggressor had drawn even closer. It was in the water now, swimming with its eyes focused on him.

But Big Death was still calm, reserving his strength. This rogue bull would get what it deserve
d as soon as it drew close. This was Big Death’s harem, and would remain so until he could no longer fight.

C
ool eddies swirled around his shoulders, lowering his body temperature. He made a note of the cows surrounding him; he needed them to move before he could attack. To do this he sprayed a wave of fecal matter into the water and swished it with his tail. The water turned dark brown and the scent of it alerted the other members of the pod to the impending danger.

With low moans the cows circling Big
Death began to clear away. Mothers nudged their babies further into the water to keep them hidden; it was not uncommon for other bulls to attack young ones in a move for dominance. Such was Big Death’s own M.O.

With the cows out of the way, it was just Big Death and the rogue bull
. The latter swam closer, head above water. Big Death waited a few seconds, letting this new enemy close the distance, gauging the hippo’s size. It had indeed grown into a formidable contender.

The rogue bu
ll stopped, opened its mouth, revealing massive stalagmite incisors.

Big Death char
ged. Water sprayed up around his massive frame as he torpedoed forward. He opened his mouth with the intent of biting off this trespasser’s head.

Th
e rogue bull charged as well, coming on with a bellow.

With a sound like two tanks colliding they smashed into each other. Big Death snapped his jaws and caught the rogue bull on its snout, thrashing at its face. The bull jerked back in agonizing pain, made for the shallow water near the river
’s edge, its face bleeding. It was hurt, but it was also stubborn and wanted this harem. Now half out of the water it roared and charged again. Big Death opened wide to meet him.

But the bull was swept sideways out of view as something large and black came out of the trees along the riverbank.

Eight legs covered in bristles as long as native spears engulfed the rogue bull in a strangle hold. The two beasts rolled side over side further into the water. The bull sang out in fear and pain as the spider’s fangs pierced the tough flesh of the hippo and injected its deadly poison.

A
ll around Big Death his harem of cows began to cry in alarm. Something was making the treetops shake along the river bank. Here and there the occasional giant black leg poked out of the fronds before disappearing again.

This was Big Death’s harem and he was going to protect it no matter what. He moved into the water, spraying fecal matter all around him once again. Back at the river
’s edge, the giant black spider was pulling the rogue bull onto the sandy river bank, feasting on it.

And then there were more.

A dozen massive, black spiders leapt out of the treetops, strands of silk tethered to their abdomens, legs splayed as they dive-bombed the hippos in the water. The first ones to get picked off where the younglings, wrapped up in the spiders’ curled legs. Their mothers tried to fight for their lives but other spiders came zooming out over the water, latching onto their backs and frantically jamming their mandibles through their tough hides. It didn’t matter that the hippos were some fifty yards into the middle of the river, the spiders made the jumps with ease.

Big Death quickly dove
to the river floor, a giant brown spider just missing him. The spider hauled itself back up its web and disappeared into the trees again in seconds.

B
ig Death raised his head out of the water, watched as his harem was flipped over and engulfed in the legs of these creatures that were so incredibly fast and agile. He raced to defend one of his cows now struggling under the fangs of this new threat. He was mere feet away from the fight when he saw the flash of black to his left, and then suddenly felt the sharp hairs of the black beast land on his back. His legs were wrapped up under the creature’s own. And then there was another. Two of the jumping beasts were on him. Wrestling him, holding him. It was all he could do to snap at them. He might have even broken free were it not for the third spider that joined in the ambush.

With three of the enemy on him it was no use. He fe
lt their fangs stab into him, cried as his insides grew hot and seared. His breathing ceased and his eyes blurred. He gave one last futile kick as his insides were sucked out. The king of the river had finally met his match.

***

Gellis hefted the dead man’s pack over his free shoulder. It contained a rope and several sticks of dynamite. Likewise, Janet took the supply pack off one of the other dead workers who’d fallen to his demise. They had three packs, but whether any of their contents, beyond the rope, would help them in these caves was questionable.

She nodded toward the tunnel in front of her. “The water is running down there so my guess is it—
”

“Before we go, I’d like to say a prayer for my friends.”

Cockroaches were still scuttling around Janet’s feet and she just wanted to get out of here before those giant spiders came back. “Hurry it up.”

Antoinne Gellis leaned low to his friends
and murmured, Janet’s mining light creating a halo around their silent faces. He closed their eyes and whispered to them in a language Janet did not understand. Then he stood up. “Ok, I am ready. I will follow you.”

“Negative. You go first.” Janet knew these types of mountain veins were full of pitfalls and dangerous
speleothems. If anyone was going to get hurt here, it was going to be the help.

“As you wish,” Gellis said. He entered the tunnel and moved slowly
, inching his way down.

Janet followed behind him, her footsteps echoing off the rock walls. Even in here, where the water trickled, she could hear the scuttle of insects. She glanced down once and saw a large white bug swim past her boot. She picked up her leg and mashed it under her sole. Water kicked up onto Gellis. “Bug,” she said, motioning him to keep going. She glanced back and saw they were only a few feet in
to the tunnel. The occasional scream from high above still reached her ears.

Then she heard a moan.

Close by.

“Gellis? That you?” He was right in front of her. She knew it wasn’t him.

Gellis stooped and turned. “My god.” He raced around her back toward his friends, sliding to the ground in front of the bodies. “Come quick,” he yelled to her.

Janet drew up beside him, saw him lifting one of the dead workers into his lap. Correction; the man wasn’t dead. His eyes fluttered opened and looked up at them. He spoke something in his native language. Gellis responded in kind. They talked for a moment while Janet stood by. Finally she lost her patience.

“We have to go, Gellis. What the hell is he saying? I don’t want to be here with those things just above our heads.

“He says the floor broke open and released the
mountain’s demons. He said there were too many to count. When he hit the ground they ran over him. He thinks his ribs are broken now. I asked him if he could walk and he said he will try.”

“Perfect. Just what we need, an invalid slowing us down.”

“His name is Moyo.”

“I don’t give a shit what his name is. I want to get out of here fast and I don’t need him using me as a crutch.”

Gellis helped the man to his feet, who in turn teetered for a moment before getting his footing. With his arm holding his own ribcage, the tiny worker nodded that he was ready to walk.

“Okay, here’s how it’s gonna work. Gellis, you’re in front again. Moyo, you stay behind me, watch the rear. Anything comes, yell like hell.
And believe me when I say we’re not stopping anymore.”

Gellis translated this to the man. He nodded that he understood.

Janet waved toward the tunnel for what felt like the millionth time. “Good. Let’s go for real now.”

The three of them moved into the darkness agai
n, the headlight beams on Janet’s hat carving a lighted path before them. About one hundred yards in, the water got deeper, running over their ankles and up their shins. They were forced to kneel down to crawl through a low overhang. Janet had no idea if this direction would lead to freedom, just knew that following the water would get them somewhere.

“Ma’am,” Gellis started,
“I cannot see much with your light behind me.”

“What’s your point.”

“I think…I know that it is your hat, but if I am to be in front, it would be better for me to see what is before us.”

Of course, she thought. He wants to leave me blind. No way. “I’m keeping the hat,” she said.

“If I may…I believe that the spiders will likely attack that which they can see the best. If I had to guess, they will attack the light first before either myself or Moyo.”

Well shit, she thought, he does have a point. Moyo and Gellis were both African, an
d in the dark cave were much more easily hidden. With the light on her head she probably stuck out like a sore thumb. She hated to relinquish it after having made her point about taking it, but death by spider was not worth it in the end. “Fine. Here. But if I want it back you give it right back.”

“I will do that, ma’am.
I promise.” Gellis took the hat back and fastened it once again to his head, resumed leading them through the cave.

Janet followed and prayed she’d made a good decision. There was no telling what things were in this place with them, and how many fangs those things might have.

***

It was nearing midday and the sun was getting hotter. As a result, the mosquitoes were out in higher numbers, swarming in the dark shade of the trees. Shumba stopped his trek back to the village and knelt down beside a small bush with orange cup blossoms. The cups held the remainder of the morning’s dew. He tipped each one over, spilling the small amount of water onto the forest floor. He took this mud and wiped it on his neck and chest, around his ears and on his cheeks. This would keep the mosquitoes from biting until he could get back to the village. That it felt cool and kept the occasional hot ray of sun from burning him was a bonus.

He dipped his finger into the pouch
on his belt and scooped out a dollop of honey, sucked it down with a smile. It was sweet and warm and lined his stomach with a sugary thickness.

What was he going to tell his father and mother? They would not believe that giant spiders were jumping down from the Old Man into the lower jungle. They’d think he
’d eaten some bad berries (as was the joke they often told the White Men to get a laugh). His mother and father knew him to be honest, but even a history of truthfulness would not allow them to trust such a wild story.

He resumed his walk, occasionally swinging his machete to clear fronds that had fallen over
his tracks. Eventually he found the signs of the footpath that led to his village. It was a path invisible to the untrained eye, but Shumba’s father had taught him what to look for.

All around him the jungle sang its familiar song. Trees swaying, bugs clicking, branches creaking, and always the distant cries of monkeys and birds. These were the sounds he liked to fall asleep to at night.

Something shuffled in the trees behind him. He looked back, saw nothing. Perhaps another rodent, looking for some food. He waited, watching.

There!

A hundred meters away. The bushes shaking. Something big rustling in them. Immediately he thought of the spiders. But it could also be a cat. Both thoughts scared him to death and he wanted to run, to burst through the trees back to his village, but he was sure this would only encourage the creature to attack. This he’d learned at an early age: you do not run, for the man-eating predator’s instinct is to give chase. If you stay still you have a better chance of survival. The big cat will sit on its haunches waiting for movement. As it sits, you take aim with your weapon and kill it.

Unfortunately,
all he had to fight with was his machete, and it would be no match for a jaguar let alone some giant demon arachnid. If he could find some big rocks he might scare it away, but there were none around him now. Nothing but tree trunks, vines and flowers.

The bushes shook again. Whatever it was drew closer.