“This is the place?”

  Matt Tapper scratched his greying hair, checking the house number. “It’s this one, yup. The group over the road heard screaming a couple of nights back and the couple who live there haven’t been seen since.”

  The big man next to him sighed and leant on the tall staff of polished wood that he carried.

  “Let me guess, they were too scared to do anything useful – like help – and just huddled in their own places. Then gave the problem to someone else – us. Great neighbourly attitude there.” Alan raised his voice at this last part, his frustration and derision easy to tell by his friend and the watchers from between nearby curtains.

  “I know mate, I know.” Matt thumped the larger man’s shoulder. “But not everyone can be a big old hero, and there is some bloody terrifying stuff around. Remember the wasps?”

  Alan shuddered. “Trying to forget. If I ever meet God, I’m going to punch him in the nuts for inventing those buzzing bastards.”

  Matt smirked, but took up his spear. “Come on, let’s get this done. How bad could it be after the rat nest?”

  After entering the small bungalow, the pair immediately noticed webbing everywhere, and a musty smell. Not yet thick enough to obscure all features of the cosy rooms, but enough to ring every alarm bell their brains could imagine. Their troubles had begun shortly after, as any contact with the web sent a chain of vibrations rippling across the diaphanous threads.

  A dozen football-sized spiders crawled from behind curtains, under tables and chairs. Pausing as they came into view, front legs lifted into the air as if challenging the intruders. Matt and Alan froze, wary of triggering an attack, then began edging backward toward the door. The spiders paced them, spindly legs moving slowly in short, staccato bursts.

  “Armour, now.” Matt whispered between gritted teeth, and both men reached up slowly to tap the grey patches on their tops. A soft sheen began spreading across their bodies. Something about this seemed to trigger the watching arachnids though, and with familiar, frightening speed they closed the distance and sprang to attack.

  “Forget what I said earlier! As soon as we get out of here, I’m punching YOU in the nuts! Bloody jinxing us like that!” Alan shouted as his staff plunged down repeatedly, each stamp squashing a large spider with a disgusting squelch and spray of brown innards.

  Matt emulated his friend but could not match the many hours Alan had spent training with the staff. The butt of his spear accounted for a few glancing blows, but the sheer speed of the skittering nightmares left him flailing. One after another scrambled up his legs, large fangs unfolding to stab down, pinging off his shining shield like needles. Occasionally a spurt of disgusting fluid would erupt as a spider was caught on one of the spikes from his shield, but they seemed somehow able to sense and avoid these dangers for the most part.

  As panic rose within him, Matt twirled frantically, desperately trying to dislodge his tenacious attackers. In a spasmodic dance he lurched around the room, knocking over a table and lamp. Alan grabbed and slammed him backward into a wall, a soft squelch and cut-off, eerie hissing signalling the end of the unwelcome passengers.

  Matt arms flailed until Alan’s voice snapped him back to his senses. “Cut it out, they’re splatted. What the hell were you doing, panicking like that? It looked like a zombie-dance with twenty-thousand volts going through you!”

  Matt caught his breath, flicking bits of spider goo from his arms. “Sorry Al, I really don’t like spiders.”

  “Who does? But we’ve faced far worse than that. What about the big ones at the station?”

  “I don’t know – something about the speed the smaller ones move at just…freaks me out, okay? Can we drop it?” Matt pleaded.

  “No worries mate. Let’s check the rest of the place. I promise I won’t mention your dancing to the rest of the gang.” This last part was said with a wide, insincere grin.

  Matt rolled his eyes but gathered his spear and followed Alan out into the hallway. They trod carefully and quietly, not under any illusion that they could escape notice, but wanting to give themselves a chance to hear any movement. Nearing a bedroom at the back of the property, the smell grew stronger. As they moved through the open door they stopped once again, gagging in disgust.

  Two web-wrapped bodies lay on the floor, patches of exposed flesh appearing desiccated. Awful rictus grins were frozen across withered features, a testament to the horror of the former occupants’ final moments.

  More immediately concerning was the large globe of webbing, suspended by thick strands from light fittings and the tops of a pair of wardrobes. Even though there was no breeze, ripples of movement bulged beneath the surface of the globe. As they stared mutely, another spider climbed over the top of the suspended globe, long legs finding sure footing on the threads as it slowly reached the top. Glittering black eyes seemed devoid of any thought or feeling as they regarded the intruders.

  “Eggs?” Matt said rhetorically.

  “Eggs.” Alan whispered confirmation. “I know that we’re trying not to burn down any more houses, but they can bill me for this one.”

  Moving as slowly as possible, Alan reached down to his side and lifted a foot-long length of aluminium tube in his gloved left hand. The pair had initially raised eyebrows with this apparent fashion statement, but both had learned the wisdom of being prepared to use their most potent weapon on short notice – without burning their hands. Monsters weren’t likely to let you pull on a glove before they attacked.

  Matt nodded agreement and Alan levelled the tube at the globe. Before he could touch the patch to activate it, the large spider emitted that same eerie hissing sound, skittering down to the floor and under the large bed almost too fast to follow.

  The ball of spider eggs had no such defence though and the plume of bright flame reached out and engulfed it, cutting quickly through the web into its core. Small shapes writhed, curled and fell as the fire mercilessly washed over them. For several seconds this continued, by which time Matt had copied Alan’s lead and another destructive burst reduced the rest of the egg sac and it’s dozens – hundreds – of occupants to scorched ash.

  “Where did the big one go?” Alan yelled over the last of the flame’s roar. He looked around, blinking against the smoke building up in the room. Bedsheets now burned merrily, completing the destruction of the spider young as the wooden headboard smouldered.

  “Under the bed!” Matt yelled, pointing with his tube as the flame guttered out and fell silent.

  Alan backed away before kneeling to look underneath. Smoke curled around the frame, and he could not make out movement in the shadows.

  “Can’t see anything, let’s get out and shut the door. We let the fire and smoke take care of it.”

  They backed away, eyes darting around. The moment they were through the doorway, Alan yanked it closed, making sure it clicked shut. By unspoken agreement, they hurried back outside to the front of the house. There, they turned and watched from a safe distance as the crackle of flames grew louder and smoke started to rise.

  Some time later, Matt and Alan found themselves facing an unforeseen threat. Behind them the bungalow blazed, flames bursting through the tile roof and reaching for the sky.

  “What have you done?! We just said to check and make sure the Robinsons were alright, not destroy the place. Did they get out, or did you kill them before your spate of arson?!” A red-faced, portly, middle-aged man shouted, spittle flying with every word. Around him, other neighbours switched between watching the destruction in the background and eyeing the pair with a mixture of disgust, anger and fear.

  “What did you…” Alan started with a glower, before being cut off by the continuing tirade.

  “Very convenient, covering your tracks with the fire, probably after ransacking the place for anything valuable. Don’t think I won’t be reporting this to the police! Thugs like you, throwing your weight around like you own the place. Why, I should…”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Matt stepped forward, placing a hand on Alan’s shoulder to prevent an imminent eruption. Calmly reaching down he pulled another flame tube up and fired it straight up in the air. The roaring column of bright orange instantly silenced the loud-mouth’s rant and the whole group backed away, wide-eyed in fear.

  “You heard the Robinson’s screaming, yes? That’s why you asked us for help?” He said, teeth gritted.

  A few jerking nods were the limit of the response.

  “So you heard your neighbours screaming – and did nothing to help, not even a knock on the door. And you have the balls to accuse us of killing and robbing them?”

  “Naturally, we can’t be expected to deal with whatever group of ruffians was accosting them. That’s for the police to take care of, that’s their job to…”

  “WHAT POLICE?” Matt yelled directly in the man’s face, cutting him off abruptly. “When was the last time you saw anyone official? Or are you so totally blind to what’s going on around you, that you think everything will be back to normal tomorrow?”

  “Preposterous, it’s all…”

  Behind the man, Matt could see the rest of the group looked worried, even a little shamefaced. Alan did something on his back and moved forward, throwing the squashed remains of a giant house spider to the ground in front of the group.

  Matt looked down and jumped. “What the hell? You let me walk around with that still on my back?”

  “We had more important things to do than freshen up for the ladies.” Alan replied with a cheeky grin. “And it might wake this lot up out of their uselessness.”

  The group were staring in horror at the mess of squashed body and twisted, spindly legs. A sight familiar to every British homeowner, apart from being almost the size of a dinner plate. They backed away, but Alan wasn’t going to let them off without making the point.

  “That’s the reason your neighbours were screaming. That’s the reason they’re dead now, wrapped in webs with the juices sucked out of them. Maybe if you had sacked up and helped, they might still be alive, but no. You hid behind your curtains, looked after yourselves and waited until we came by and asked us to do what you should have done two days ago!”

  At the front of the group, the portly man’s mouth was opening and shutting like a fish’s, unable to articulate whatever thought was foremost in his denial of reality. His eyes widened suddenly, his face turning pale as his and the rest of the group’s gaze was drawn to the sky over the burning house.

  Matt and Alan turned in time to see Oswald swoop down and land gracefully on the driveway. His wings smoothly folded closed and his draconic head turned to observe the blaze, before facing back toward the friends.

  “Please pardon the intrusion sirs… and ladies, I see. I was preparing for flight when the young Miss’s noticed this admirable plume of smoke and deduced that you may be in need of assistance. From the state of this abode and your sartorial disarray, might I assume that any danger has passed for now?”

  Until quite recently Oswald had been a plush dragon toy, perched on a shelf above the bed of Kira’s best friend, Lara. With the advent of ‘The Weirdness’, he had become fully aware and a treasured companion to Lara in her time of desperation, after losing her family to a giant snake.

  She and Oswald had managed to attune to a pair of loci resulting from the trauma of their shared experiences. Unlike others in the group, attuning to these loci had affected them together, a growing connection which Matt’s daughter Kira was helping them to explore and develop. One effect of these attunements had been a remarkable growth spurt for the young dragon, who now rivalled a bus’s length with his tail and neck outstretched.

  The group of neighbours had gone from stunned immobility to outright panic, fleeing back to the dubious safety of their homes. Only the portly man remained, his red face now pale in fright. His only movement was the burbled, disbelieving words trying to shape themselves.

  “Dra… it’s a dra… drag… drag…”

  Matt turned back to Oswald with a sincere smile, and put on a formal manner of speech. “No, thank you Oswald. I believe that your magnificent entrance has definitively settled the point of contention between us. Do you think you might be able to bring home a pigeon after your flight?”

  “I shall endeavour to do just that, Mr T. Now, with your permission…?”

  “Of course, Oswald, enjoy your flight.” Matt and Alan stood back and watched as the sleek form rose into the sky. Soon he was winging off toward a patch of woodland which had become his favoured pigeon hunting ground.

  In a shadowy room, shrieks of pain had faded into a ghastly rattle as the body slumped, only held aloft by the ropes cutting into arms which had relaxed in death. The abuse visited on the man hadn’t been strictly necessary; he had given up his one secret many minutes before. But the perpetrator of this violence felt the need for some recreation.

  A door swung open behind him, a cleared throat cutting off as the thick stench of blood and voided bowels flooded out into the hallway.

  “Urgh, you wanted to know when Castle had left boss.” The figure said, desperately holding down the rising nausea at the smell… and sight of the room’s contents.

  “Indeed. I assume there were no issues?”

  “Nope, all good. The army boys were asking for volunteers anyway, and they seemed to like his map.”

  “Good. Let us hope that he is able to do better this time. Such poor pickings from his last effort.”

  The figure turned and walked to a table where a single candle cast flickering light over an assortment of objects. A shovel, shiny and sharp like brand new, despite obvious years of use. A hairbrush with strands of auburn hair still caught in the bristles.

  A child’s storybook, a bloodstain marring the pages.

  "There is a secret out there, waiting for me to uncover it. Some trinket that will finally be worth my time. Not this useless detritus." With a nonchalant sweep of his arm, the objects were swept onto the floor. Landing amongst the shredded clothes and tangled limbs of two more bodies.

  “Yes, I do hope Castle is able to locate a better quality of prey. For his sake.”

  “Can you believe the balls on that guy, accusing us of all that crap?” Alan grumbled as they walked back towards home. They warily watched the sky and possible hiding places as they went, keenly aware of the potential for ambush by the now more dangerous wildlife.

  “They were kind of a meme, weren’t they?” Matt sighed. “The group in total denial, waiting for everything to go back to normal, until one of the things they don’t believe in finishes them off.”

  “How are people like that? How are they still even going? They should have run out of food by now, surely?”

  “Lots of people have veg patches in their gardens around here. They’ll be tightening their belts, but…”

  “Not that shouty prick, by the looks of it.”

  “Indeed, but they weren’t a young bunch, so not putting away mountains of food. They’re probably getting by on a decent harvest, maybe picking wild berries as well. Plants are growing faster now, after all.”

  Alan nodded thoughtfully. The group had been mystified to see the new growth rate of plants in general. Trees and hedgerows were fuller and more vibrantly coloured. Grass was becoming taller almost by the day, and the vegetable patches they had created were producing bounteous harvests of carrots, tomatoes and other greenery. The trove of seeds they had acquired from the local garden center in the first few days had proved their worth, securing their food supply for the foreseeable future.

  Nowhere was this more visible than in Alan and Carry’s back garden, in a precise circle around Lion’s grave. The playful kitten had become a loyal and affectionate protector – a Shadowprowler according to Kira’s encyclopaedia - and fell while defending them from a swarm of Malicious Rats. A locus had formed at his place of final rest, and within a nearby circle, growth was measurably faster than elsewhere.

  Kira had buried her nose in the encyclopaedia. She explained that each locus – formed from a significant event for a group or individual – had a different effect on the world around it, based on the type of event that had caused it to come into being. The continuation of nature’s cycle in burying Lion’s body in the ground, was boosting the natural process in a small area. Alan was particularly impressed with the size of the carrots.

  “What did you boys set fire to now?” Carry said with a playful smile as the pair made their way to the front door. “Nothing too important I hope?”

  The bubbly brunette was waiting on the porch of the house she shared with Alan. In the front yard, two large black cats basked in the warmth of the early afternoon sun. Their only movement was an occasional twitch of an ear, or tail – though they did open bright eyes to regard the pair trudging back along the road.

  Alan moved to sweep her into his arms, but she stepped back, waving a finger in front of her.

  “Oh no you don’t! I know your one-tracked mind Alan Brand, but you’re not touching me until whatever that disgusting mess is has been washed off. Out in the back garden, so that awful smell doesn’t stink the place out.”

  Alan started to protest, but Carry was having none of it. “Go on, round the side with you. The gazebo is still up, so you can wash and change in there without scandalising the neighbours or attracting any of those huge birds.”

  Alan put on a mournful expression and bumped fists with Matt. Then he strode off around the side of the house to remove the lingering traces of spider guts and webbing. Once he had gone, Carry turned back to Matt with a smirk.

  “And you had best do the same, before Arlee catches you trying to walk into her house with… whatever that is all over you. What happened?”

  Matt’s face went serious. “We were checking another couple of roads off and found another group. They had heard screams from one of the neighbours, but were too scared to do anything so asked us to check it out.”

  He took a deep breath before continuing. “Turned out that a big nest of spiders was the problem. The couple were dead – like the people we saw at the station – but we had to burn out the nest before the eggs could hatch and spread out.”

  He shuddered at the memory. “They were regular house spiders Caz, but the size of plates, and fast as anything. We didn’t mean to, but it felt safest to let the place burn rather than trying to clear them out with weapons.”

  “Then after we were done, the neighbours turned out to be a bunch of arseholes. Accused us of killing the neighbours and using the fire to cover it up. Another group living in denial, convinced things will be back to normal before tea. Oswald turned up at just the right moment to take the wind out of their sails.” He gave a small smile at that image.

  Carry smiled wryly. “Yes, the girls saw the smoke and sent him off. Arlee took them back over the road a little while back.” Her face darkened. “Did they actually accuse you of killing and robbing?”

  “Yeah, but it was mainly one guy – the delusional type, but a big enough man before it all kicked off that the others defer to him and just follow his lead. It still felt like a kick in the teeth though – trying to help people and having it thrown back at you.” He smiled. “Luckily, I’ve got a bunch of lovely ladies at home to take my mind off all that. Did Arlee mention what their plans were for the day?”

  “Oh yes.” Carry said, a sparkle in her eyes. “They are getting Matty to help them setup ‘The Lair’.”