Curse of Arachnaman (11 page)

We did and hurried out, but nothing out of the ordinary happened. I thought about it more when I got home after dropping Liz off at the lingerie shop that it was that same feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Only this time it was much stronger than before. Much, much stronger.

I got on the phone with Peter at the right time. I told him about today—the weird feeling that came over me and Liz, and he took me seriously, bless him. At first I wasn't sure if I could share it because I thought that he'd just laugh me off or tell me that I was just being paranoid or something, but he didn't.

"I learned early on to trust gut instinct,” he said as I fidgeted with the phone cord, wrapping it around my fingers nervously. “Did it feel stronger when you were at different places or something?"

"No. It was pretty steady."

"Okay. I'll tell Trent and everyone else, and keep an eye out. It's been a while since the last attack, and nothing's come up yet. So far we've been busying ourselves with the usual stuff up and down Vintage."

"Did anything weird happen at that street I told you about? You know, with Mom freaking out over nothing?"

"Yeah, Freddie went undercover to scope out the area, and he found nothing strange, though he almost got picked up by some sleazy john."

"Huh?"

"Um...Freddie decided to blend in with the crowd, sort of, and transformed into a hooker.” Peter coughed. I could actually hear his skin turn red over the phone. “I thought he was going to turn himself into a homeless guy, but I guess he was feeling a little, uh, adventurous that night."

"And you guys let him do that?"

"Hey, we didn't know what he was up to till he buzzed us after taking down this drunk and nearly breaking the guy's arm for groping him. Frankly, I think he kicks ass in his female masks, but that's just me. Ahem."

I needed some time for all of that stuff to sink in, so I urged Peter to continue while I rubbed my temple and grimaced. He said, “Wade volunteered to keep an eye on the place, too, and she came up with nothing.” Peter fell silent for a moment. “It
is
kind of bizarre that you've been getting all kinds of bad vibes about different places. That says something, even though we haven't found anything yet."

I watched myself play around with the phone chord once the throbbing in my temple faded. “Well, I guess it's something like a building up of tension, you know? I talked about it with my family before, and since the last big attack at the mall, nothing's happened yet, but that's only because whoever was responsible is just waiting for the right time to make his next move."

"It's kind of overdue, isn't it?” Peter replied. Then he drew in a sharp breath. “God, I just gave myself goosebumps."

"I guess we just need to keep our eyes and ears open."

"Hmm. I thought that you guys had super sense or something like that. At least, I wondered about it when I watched Althea uncover those stolen computers in Beck Street."

"No, we don't have that. Like Spidey Sense or something? Nah. Althea just happened to hook herself up to the computers in that apartment because it was the closest source she found. She didn't realize they were stolen till the moment she took over them."

I remembered yesterday's incident with the redheaded kid and asked, “By the way, did Trent say anything about the two bullies he picked up?” I gave him a quick run-down on the incident in case Trent hadn't been able to update the other heroes on his part in keeping the city cleaned up. That had to be one of the funner aspects of being involved with a superhero. I got to be in on all the gossip and little behind-the-scenes things, which I thought was always cool.

Peter chuckled and said yeah, Trent had. As Magnifiman, he took those two punks to some youth club at the far end of the city and actually stayed around while they grudgingly signed up for a weekend of community service work. I'd absolutely no idea what that community service work was all about, but I couldn't help but laugh whenever I thought about Tweedledee and Tweedledum trying to do something productive for underprivileged kids. Or cleaning Vintage City's streets, literally. Maybe they'd be given latrine work or something like that—you know, cleaning out all the porta-potties up and down the city and public park. There you go.

It was once again time for—guess what! Superhero practice! This time, instead of the Trill's old subterranean hideout, we were in one of the old warehouses that the mayor had handed over to the superheroes. This one was an old warehouse that was about to be converted into lofts, except that the company had gone belly-up after a major scandal involving stolen money and other things that slimy, white-collar crooks usually did. So the place was abandoned to graffiti artists, time, stray animals, and the weather, till it was nothing more than a rotting shell of a partially finished luxury complex.

I've already mentioned that the place was a serious safety hazard, a situation that someone genetically-altered would've been able to put up with without a problem. Too bad for me, I wasn't genetically fixed up in any way, so should there have been a cave-in before the heroes found me, I'd be gone.

I pretty much voiced my concerns while Dr. Dibbs was showing me where to make myself comfortable. He chose one of the loft spaces for me to hide in, which didn't really sink in too well because it was cold, dark, and creepy.

I looked around me, swallowing, as he let me take in the surroundings. “Hey, listen,” I said, “I'll stay here all nice and quiet, but can we skip the whole tying up bit? This place gives me the creeps, and if I'm tied down, I know I'll just have a major meltdown."

Dr. Dibbs cocked his head. “Interesting. I'd have thought that simply being in this place would cause a meltdown, but I suppose I was being much too harsh on you, Mr. Eric."

"Um, actually, if I could hang out at the Jumping Bean while everyone else practiced search-and-rescue here, that'd be way better.” I flashed him a hopeful little smile. As they say, though, hope springs eternal. In my case, it was always out of reach because my Jumping Bean suggestion apparently didn't leave its mark in Dr. Dibbs; in other words, he completely ignored it.

"Young Mr. Peter has already argued pretty convincingly to keep you free on the condition that you stay put and not mess around with the day's agenda."

"If I promise to stay put, will you let me have a mocha or something?” I'm nothing if not insistent. That said, Dr. Dibbs was nothing if not selective in his hearing.

He merely adjusted my jacket (Peter's jacket, that is) and ordered me to put my hood up. I wore a hoodie under the jacket; it was
that
cold in there. Then he gave me this gigantic flashlight. “It's got brand new batteries, Mr. Eric,” he said with a satisfied grin. He nudged his glasses up his nose. “It's a mighty powerful thing, that flashlight is, so you've got nothing to worry about should the lights outside go dim.” With another quick inspection of the room, Dr. Dibbs left me alone.

I stared forlornly at the massive flashlight in my hand and guessed its length. Seriously, if I were to make a convincing enough picture of a boy who was trying to overcompensate for something, that would be the moment. I think the flashlight was around two feet long, with the main lamp thingie being five inches in diameter, give or take an inch. I pushed the button to turn it on and nearly dropped the whole thing, screaming and blinded.

Note to self: never turn on a ginormous flashlight while staring straight at the bulb. Jeebus.

I suppose there was some comfort there. I could be abandoned in that decrepit old warehouse and still be able to find my way out, thanks to this thing. Besides, the mere size of the flashlight was enough for me to marvel at its other use, which was that of a weapon in case I had to fight someone or something.

From an old speaker that had been set up in one corner of the room, Magnifiman's voice blared.

"Hello, innocent victim,” he said, his voice slightly breaking up. I'd always thought that the speakers they used in that warehouse were a little too old for their purpose.

I held up a hand. Then I realized that he couldn't see me. “Hi, Magnifiman,” I said, blushing, as I lowered my hand sheepishly. “I'm in position and ready."

"Good. The others are being briefed at the moment, and they'll begin today's practice in around five minutes. Stay put, and be patient. They'll come for you. Magnifiman out."

I was alone again. I looked around and saw nothing that I could sit on comfortably, which was a real bummer. I didn't know how long the others would take to find me, and I wanted to be as relaxed as I possibly could be under the circumstances.

No such luck. The room was completely empty. The only things that made the area slightly less psychologically traumatic were the gigantic cracks in the walls and floor. Then again, if mutant caterpillars suddenly crawled out of those cracks, the Psychological Trauma Meter would shoot right through the roof.

There were four large windows with no glass, so the wind blew in and chilled me. I pulled up my hood and walked over to one of the windows and gazed out, scanning Vintage City's grimy landscape. It was also overcast, so there really wasn't much light coming through, but I kind of liked the way the scene looked, all urban and filthy and rundown, with rain clouds hanging above. There was nothing but warehouses surrounding me because we were in the old industrial end of the city. From where I stood, I could see the rooftops of the shorter ones. I noted piles of rotting crates, boxes, and miscellaneous industrial materials scattered all over. There were also those giant industrial ventilation duct things that jutted out of the roofs like massive periscopes. Every once in a while a few black birds would flitter from one thing to another, which startled me at first into thinking that they were bizarre shadows.

From some distant part of the warehouse, I could hear tiny fake explosions and gunfire, so I figured that the heroes were already on the move. In the meantime, I could enjoy the view a little more.

I guess I zoned out after a couple of minutes of just staring out because I didn't realize that the shadow creeping across the rooftop of one of the other warehouses across the way was actually alive till I blinked, snapped out of my trance, and looked again.

"What the..."

Nope, it wasn't caused by a flock of black birds. I pinched my eyes shut and then looked one more time, leaning out as far as I could. Holy crap. I wasn't hallucinating. It was a giant spider, moving over boxes and crates and other junk. I couldn't guess what its size could be, but I was sure that there was something human-like about it. It moved so quickly and so easily that I could've sworn that it was actually gliding, not walking on all eight legs.

It paused once it reached the edge of the roof it was on. Then it raised itself on its four rear legs, the front four waving in the air. Was it smelling the air or something? I wasn't familiar with the way spiders worked, so I couldn't say for sure. Then it heaved its humungous body and leaped from that roof and landed on the next one.

The sudden downpour rattled me out of my shock. The rain came down hard and fast, a solid curtain of gray that forced me to stumble back into the room. Once I managed to gather my wits, I quickly turned on my flashlight and hurried out the door, yelling for the others.

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I couldn't look at Peter as we sat in his car. We'd reached my house by then. The car idled, I was a little drenched, and it still poured outside. My clothes, including Peter's jacket, were a mess. There were scorched patches here and there. I could still smell burned fabric, and I could've sworn that some of the damaged parts still smoked.

"You okay?"

I nodded, sinking in my seat. “I am, yeah. Just embarrassed as hell. I'm really sorry I screwed up your training today."

"We've got plenty of other days to train. It's just...when you decide to run from your designated hideaway, don't get in the line of fire. We almost blew you away back there."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I just wanted to tell you—"

Peter sighed. “We all scoured the area, Eric, and we found no sign of a giant spider anywhere. It doesn't mean that it wasn't there, though."

I looked at him, finally. “You believe me, then?"

He chuckled. “Of course I do. We all do. But that was reckless, Eric. You could've been seriously hurt, probably even killed, by running straight for our practice zone. Remember, for the bigger warehouses, we use eighty percent of our powers. God, even Freddie as G. I. Joe was nearly on full blast."

What happened in the past hour would live on in infamy—in my immediate world, anyway. It was about to be counted on my growing list of What Not To Tell Your Parents. I could still see everything happen in slow motion. The exploding dummies and the noise of simulated gunfire suddenly crashing around me as I ran into the open area on the main floor of the warehouse, while I waved my arms and shouted at everyone about the giant spider I saw. Everything was a blaze of white and color, fire, speed, electronics, and in G. I. Joe's case, improvised weaponry (a hammer flew pretty damned close to my head) because Freddie was told not to use his grenade launchers for any kind of exercise. Then came the scattered cries of “Gah! What the hell is he doing here? Shouldn't he be kidnapped?” and then the too familiar sensation of getting swept up by Calais in hyper speed and taken to safety, while Magnifiman bellowed through the speakers: “I think not tying him down is a bad idea, Calais!” Then Dr. Dibbs and Brenda yelled at everyone to stop destroying things because the innocent kidnap victim somehow found a way to escape his captors, the crazy kid. When I said that it was embarrassing, I meant it.

"I promise I won't do it again.” I mustered up enough courage to lean close for a kiss. One of the things that I'd yet to get used to was coping with extremely humiliating situations like what had just happened. I always defaulted to believing that Peter was mad at me, so trying to make the first reconciliatory move was always so hard.