ay was one of the days the office was supposed to be open, or if the doctor was expected to be at the hospital. Damn. She should have taken Lucy to the hospital last night, when she had first woken her up. She was looking worse now. She looked at the little girl in the back seat.  If it hadn't been for the fact that Tina's sister had visited just a couple of days ago with the same symptoms, they never would have thought it was anything more than an infected molar and that they should go to the dentist. However, they knew better now that Tina's sister had been diagnosed. She couldn't remember the name of what it had been called. Some meningitis-type disease, but the symptoms were there. Lucy had it. Tina was sure of it. It wasn't anything serious, or so she had been told, but with her other sister, Lucy's mom, being out of town and leaving Tina to watch after her two children, she didn't want to take any chances with anything happening to Lucy. Terry, her sister, would kill her on the spot if anything happened to her. Lucy was the angel, Terry's little princess. She was born on the same day as her grandmother, and that had always made her special in all of their eyes. The whole family felt that way about her. They were all there to protect her. She was going to be the one to save the world someday, or so they always told her. The little angel would grow up and save them all. So that was why they came there early. Get Lucy looked at, and hopefully, to get there early enough to catch them just as the little office opened the doors. Since they didn't have an appointment, they were hoping he would still see her. Sure, they were there hours early, but Tina actually planned to park out front and walk around to the doctor's house and see if she could maybe catch him as he was heading in. She had been surprised when she had pulled into the parking lot to see that there were actually lights on in the front receptionist area, and that there was movement in there. They were in luck. Someone was actually already there. Maybe it was the doctor. Maybe they would open their doors. She had a quick thought that maybe someone had broken in and that they were burglarizing the little doctor's office, but she laughed it off. Who would break into a doctor's office? It's not like there was going to be money lying around. Drugs? How many samples of Viagra did someone need to steal to make it worthwhile? I guess we're in luck, Tina said as she pulled into the closest non-handicap space in the parking lot and parked the car. It looks like they're already in the office this morning. Lucy smiled. Good. Maybe I'll be fine enough to go to the game later today. Tina grimaced. She knew that Lucy had been fighting to go to the junior high exhibition basketball game all week. After all, Bobby was going to be playing and Lucy liked Bobby. She was getting too old too fast, as far as Tina was concerned. She shouldn't be thinking about boys yet. She should still be finding them gross and full of cooties. We'll see what the doctor says, Tina said. Stay here while I go and see if we can get you in. Tina got out of the car and walked towards the front door of the doctor's office. Lucy watched as Tina went up the front stairs. She didn't really want to go to the doctor, but was having a hard time ignoring the dull, throbbing pain that had started to grow in the back left side of her mouth. She had hoped when she woke Tina up in the middle of the night, well, she wasn't sure what she had hoped for. She guessed that she had hoped Tina would have some magical miracle cure available, that she would know some grandmother's special recipe miracle that would make her not feel so sick to her stomach and her mouth would stop aching. She did not want to be there going to the doctor, nor did she want to go to the hospital. Tina hadn't wanted to go to the hospital either, and Lucy knew that was why she hadn't tried to force that one on her. Tina regarded hospitals with a fear that Lucy typically held for snakes. She never knew why her aunt hated hospitals so much, but she knew it was one reason that had kept her from being dragged there last night. Besides, if she went to the hospital, there would have been no way for her to make it to the basketball game later today. Billy would be starting, and no matter how bad she felt, she still wanted to watch him play. Her mom liked to tease her, saying that Billy was her first boyfriend. Lucy, of course, would always correct her. He was not her boyfriend. He was only a boy who was a friend, one that she really liked to be around and one that she did find to be very cute. She didn't know why yet, but she found an appeal to him that made her want to stay with him. When she was around him, she felt her cheeks get red, and she would sometimes find it hard to find the right words to say to him. So Lucy was figuring that as much as it literally pained her to do so, she would have to play down how bad she felt if she wanted to make it to the game. After all, if she was able to get the doctor to say that she was fine and good enough to go, then Tina would have to let her. She would just have to say that she felt okay. At least she saw that they wouldn't have to wake the doctor just for him to say that. The doctor was already in, so she wouldn't feel guilty about lying to him and getting away with nothing but a lollipop. She supposed she was getting too old to get a lollipop, but knew he would still give her one if she asked. Sick little girls wouldn't ask for the lollipop. They would be too sick. She would have to ask him for one. It would help sell to him that she was not too sick, and that she could still go to the game. Lucy looked away from the front of the small building and turned to look at the distant horizon. The sun was about to rise. It had already been lighting up the sky, but now there were streams of red flowing from the east. They caught the low hanging clouds and were dazzling in their brilliance. She actually stopped to take note of it. The red light of the sun as it caught the ripples of the clouds. In fact, with how the red, orange, and yellow light caught and danced among it, it looked like flame raging across the sky. Lucy saw the flash of fire crossing the sky in a broccoli cloud of flame. She blinked her eyes, and then it was gone. She turned back toward the doctor's office and saw that Tina had come back outside. She was motioning her to come to the door. Lucy grimaced and made her way out of the car. So many. So many before him had tried, and so many before him have died. They all wanted out. They wanted to get out and expand. Food was growing scarce. If she was to survive and lay her eggs, she needed to escape and find a new host. She needed to be able to get out of there and live where so many others had died. They were all starving. They needed more. They were hungry. The walls were growing tight with their masses. All her older sisters were dying and becoming food for the hatchlings not yet born. New eggs would soon be hatching, and there would be more of them without food. But that would not happen to her. No, this little spider was stronger. Its legs thicker than its brethren that had fallen before it. This little spider was going to make it because it was faster. It wasn't going to fall and wither because it was the newer generation. With every generation, with every spawn, they had all felt it. The strengthening. They could all feel that they were expanding and spreading as far as they could from their current shell, and they needed to move forth. The first of them, the ones who first ventured from the shell, had barely been able to make it for a couple of labored breaths before withering and fading into dust blown away in time. The next generation had been able to go a little further, but as time passed, they also died. However, generations came and went fast, each containing the knowledge, the single-minded presence of a purpose, and that was to spread and expand. And this little spider was going to do just that. After all, she was already one of the new generation. They had already started to eat and expand their control quickly, taking their sustenance. The little spider had emerged from the shell's ear, noticing briefly that the other shell had already been completely drained and was nothing more than something of theirs to control. They would have to move on. The spider quickly made its way down the shell's back and jumped to the cool surface of the countertop. From there, it was nothing but a quick scurry of motion to the wall and climbed to the vent near the ceiling of the small room. She was already farther than her brothers and sisters had ever traveled, but she wasn't going to stop. She was going to make it all the way and find a new vessel. She made it through the grate and immediately felt the cool rush of air streaming through the vent. It wasn't much more than a slight tickle, pushing against the many micro hairs that ran along her body and legs. What might have been excitement tickled at it and it dashed down the left corridor's vents until it found the first side vent. The little spider went through the grate and propped itself on the upper ledge of one of the bars. She sat there and watched the long hallway. There was motion and she could see someone walking closer. She prepared herself to make her leap, readying herself to land on the floor so far below and run to the shell that was walking straight towards her. It would be easy prey, and she was ready to take it. She needed to hurry because she could feel a drying on her hairs. They were growing brittle and she didn't have much longer. It didn't seem to notice her, and an alien sensation of what some might take for glee rushed through the little black creature. She was going to get her turn to spread their spawn. She was going to start her generation. Then she could see the taint on the man who was walking towards her. She could see the brethren he carried with him, already swarming and spreading beneath his skin. He was already a vessel and was already carrying their eggs. The little spider ducked back into the vent as the doctor went back into the examining room. So she turned and went the other way along the vents. It wasn't done yet. She could feel that her time outside a vessel would soon be over, but she wasn't done. She refused to be another of the fallen spawn. She refused to think of herself as just one of those who ended as dust to be discarded. She ran down the corridor until she found the next vent, and as her breathing was becoming labored, she dashed through the gate without slowing. She jumped from it, readying herself to land on whatever surface. She knew that the fall wouldn't hurt her as much as not finding another vessel that she could lay her eggs in. She landed on a semi-soft, rugged ground. It was different than any of her kind had ever felt. The ground had a kind of texture that was giving, but not too much. She looked at it briefly, but didn't let it distract her. No, she wouldn't let it distract her as she could barely breathe. Her breaths were coming in short gasps. The air around her becoming its own poison as she had been out of her element too long. The air was growing toxic, pollution to her lungs, unless she could get back into a new vessel soon.  She could feel it with every labored breath that she took. It was something she had seen many times as she had matured, as she had watched many of the previous generation try to do as she had done, and they had not made it nearly as far as she had. They had barely made it a few feet from their hosts before they couldn't breathe and their legs would wither beneath them.  She was not going to become dust. She could feel her legs under her twitch and fight against her. She was not going to let them. Her many eyes hazed and then focused. She could see it. It was a vessel. It was smaller than the rest she had seen, but nonetheless, it was a vessel. She was saved. The little spider ran to the girl who had been sitting there patiently in the waiting room. When he hung up the phone, he hadn't felt too much better. He had called the CDC, hoping to get some information on whatever it was that infected the patient just a couple rooms away. Instead, they made him feel like he was a fool and didn't know what he was talking about. Are you sure he has no pulse? The heavy sarcasm from the other end of the phone had not made Dr. Wilson too happy. He had been practicing medicine since long before that woman on the phone had been a gleam in her father's eye, and she had the audacity to question his competence. The whole phone call had been a stretch and trial on his patients. He kept having to tell himself to stay calm. It wouldn't do him any good to get his blood pressure up, but he could feel the heat rise to his face as his body ignored him.  He had put them there for a moment when the woman had said that there was nothing she could do, and that it would be better to wait until Halloween next time before playing practical jokes. His glasses slowly put the world back in focus around him, and he looked briefly around the clutter of his dark office. It really was a mess.  At least his wife kept the dust off of everything. She was good for many things, and that was definitely one of them. He could smell another thing she was good at, as the coffee smelled of heaven as it sent drifted through the hallway. He heard the bell ring on the front door and wondered why someone had opened it. His heart skipped a beat as he thought maybe his patients had left, but then he remembered that he had locked them in the examining room. They wouldn't be leaving until he allowed them to, which was safer for everyone, as he was pretty sure that whatever these kids had, it was probably contagious. He grimaced as he thought about what would happen if he had gotten it too. Those two did not look good. He sure didn't want to go down that path with them. By all accounts, the one was dead. The kid was a walking zombie as far as he could tell. How else would a person describe someone who was walking around with open wounds that are not bleeding, no blood circulation, and no pulse? It was medically impossible for the man to be moving. Dr. Wilson stood and started looking through the boxes that were cluttered on a shelf just beyond his desk. He knew that he had more of what he was looking for in the exam rooms, and if he needed to, he would go into one of the rooms and grab one. However, he was pretty sure he could find a couple boxes. Ah yes, there it is. He reached and pulled out a rectangular blue box that had a thin layer of dust on it. They didn't use them too often, and only had them for when they had that flu epidemic that had everyone scared. He ripped open the box of masks and took one out. He put it over his mouth, having to play a little with the string thing of a fastener to make sure it didn't snag along the rims of his glasses. If he wasn't infected, he didn't want to get infected. If he was, he didn't want to spread it to anyone else. He figured with the most common method of travel for disease being airborne, airborne was what he would defend against. He didn't see the two men as being sexual lovers, so swapping fluids hadn't been likely. The doctor left the room and headed down the hall. He wasn't looking forward to going back to talk to them, but why did he need to go and talk to them? What was he going to tell them? Hey, your friend is dead. I don't know how he is walking around, but medically he is dead. Then what was he going to do? Besides them both scoffing at him and leaving, what more was there? But if he didn't tell them, then what? Let them just stay in there until one of them figures out how to get out? Have them call the police and put him away for kidnapping? Sure, he was quarantining them, but he really didn't have their permission and there was nothing legally he could do to keep them there. Why did he have to tell them? He finally answered his own question, and it was the most basic answer he could give. Not only that, it was the right answer. It was the answer that got him into medicine, and it was the answer that kept him there in this small town being the doctor. Why? Because it was the right thing to do, and he was always one to do the right thing, especially when he didn't think he should.  The white of the mask started just under his eyes, but she could still see how dark and sad they looked. She frowned. Whatever was going on in that room, it must not be good. She caught him just as he was about to reach the room. He was already fumbling in his pocket for the keys and had been looking back to his office when she reached him. Knowing how forgetful he could be, he probably left the keys in his office, she thought. However, then he turned back to the door and saw her as he started to withdraw the keys from his pocket. He stopped, surprised when he saw her. As the mask shifted, she could tell that he tried to force a smile for her. He was always terrible at faking a smile. He was too honest for an insincere emotion. That was why she was glad that, most times, his smile was large and warm with no need to fake it. He always had an excellent bedside manner that largely had to do with his strong belief in happiness and honesty. He was always optimistic, which was one of her favorite qualities in him. Did someone come in the front door? He asked. She nodded at him and handed him the cup of coffee she had been carrying. His smile did then turn warm, if only for a second, as he lifted the cup to smell it through the thin fabric of the mask. Yes, Tina and Lucy Lockwood. Her husband raised his brow. He had a good bedside manner, but he was terrible when it came to remembering names. He could never remember someone from their face or their name. It usually took him a couple of minutes with someone when he would remember their personality. If it wasn't for his wife always remembering them for him, he would have been embarrassed many times over to some of his not-so-regular patients. Tina is Lucy's aunt. She's watching her while her parents are out of town. From the sounds of it, she doesn't have kids and is freaking out a little with Lucy having a fever. Other than that, sounds like it may just be a touch of 24-hour stomach flu. She could see the wheels turning in her husband's head. Then he glanced quickly at the examination room and then back to his wife. Tell her I won't be able to see her today, but that more than likely it's just that, a 24-hour bug. If she still feels sick tomorrow, maybe bring her back or take her to the hospital. Then once they leave, I want you to close up and lock the front door. Call everyone and tell them not to come in. Once called, I want you to go back to the house and stay there. Denise was shocked, silent. Just what was going on? What was in that room? I'll tell you later, but for the right now, just get them out of here, please. He must have seen her looking from him to the room as the tone of his voice had gone desperate and she could feel the tension radiating from him. She turned back to look at him and could see his furrowed brow. He was afraid. How had she not seen that there before? There was true terror in his eyes. Okay, she said quietly. She had started to walk away but then stopped and turned to look back at him. I love you, she said to him. She could see the mask move again and knew that he was smiling weakly back at her. I love you too. I'll be fine. I… no, we just need to take the necessary precautions. Denise nodded and turned back away. He waited until she had left the hallway before he turned back to the exam room. When the doctor entered the room, Marty and John were standing there just like he left them. In fact, they looked almost like motionless statues. Marty, with his eyes locked and looking down at the floor, his left hand systematically scratching his right arm as he hugged himself and John was still sitting on the examination table, just looking forward. If he was to put his elbow on his knee and his fist on his chin, he could be mistaken for a hospital-robed thinker statue. Dr. Wilson closed the door behind him, locking it. They both turned up to look at him. He turned around slowly to face them. John looked terrible. His eyes were now completely white and bloodless, his face a blank slate. There was no emotion left in the man as he watched the doctor. And why should there be? There was nothing left of the man, internally. Inside him, the little spiders crawled throughout his muscles. Their little bodies worked his muscles, controlled his movements, drove his desires and needs as they ate away, devouring him from the inside out. Eggs had been laid all throughout his body and now their offspring and the offspring of their offspring danced along his nerve endings and muscle fibers. Now he no longer had needs as he was an empty shell, their vessel. The spiders inside of him swarmed and they wanted now to do only one thing, spread, to leave his vessel as it was now just a carrier for them and move on to their next food source. When John looked at the doctor, he could see that there was the familiar taint that he was already being eaten alive, but that didn't keep the spiders inside of John from screaming out their cries, desiring the new food source, to join the others who already were working on the food source and enjoy the taste of fresh flesh and muscle. The doctor looked at John. He could see that something had changed. There was something about how the skin seemed to twitch and move. Was there, what was that? The doctor could swear he saw little shapes moving along under the skin of John's face. I don't know how to tell you this, Dr. Wilson started to say. He was meaning it towards John, but he had turned to look at Marty. He stopped when he could see the same shapes moving under Marty's skin. Dr. Wilson looked down to Marty's arm where he was still scratching. He looked at the open cuts along Marty's arms. Little spiders kept emerging from the wounds and then ducking back under the safety of the skin before Marty's fingernails found them. The doctor turned to look back to John. He was closer to him now, was edging slowly over to him. The doctor started to take a step back, but somehow his body didn't want to listen to him. It stayed there in place as John reached the edge of the table.  It had come from the corner and stood there on the white of his eye. It seemed to be staying there watching as John moved closer to the doctor. Dr. Wilson wanted to scream. Something deep in his soul told him he should scream and run from the room that he should get away as fast as possible. There was something deep in his body, in his mind that told him that he was in danger. Yet somehow he couldn't seem to communicate any of this fear to his muscles. He just stood there, paralyzed by what he could only think was fear. He watched as John started to bend towards him. John opened his mouth as he prepared to move towards Dr. Wilson's throat. One of the last things Dr. Wilson would see before his mind was lost to the infestation was that mouth. Hundreds, no thousands of spiders there, crawling on top of each other, preparing themselves for their next meal. They seemed to nearly dance, and Dr. Wilson felt their delight as they approached. Then he felt the piercing pain as John bit into his throat, and he knew he was done. He knew that those spiders were now coursing their way through him, taking him like they had worked through these two. One of his last thoughts before his mind was completely invaded and taken over was that if he had seen the spiders as they had approached him, then he had already been infected, and it hadn't mattered if they attacked him. He was already lost. Marty came forward as well, spiders spilling out from his eyes and nose. The doctor just fell back to the door as they both were biting into him. It didn't matter now. All was lost. His mind was already quickly being eaten, controlled, and manipulated. You can find all of the audiobooks I've narrated on the audiobooks page at WeirdDarkness.com, including the sequel to the story you're listening to now. More of the audiobook hatched, Invisible Spiders Volume 1 by Jason R. Davis, When Weird Darkness Returns Chapter 10 That open mouth, flesh drizzling out of it, pus foaming from the side as she slid forward falling on top of him. He had screamed out, and those assholes just ignored him. They watched as she slid right on top of him.  Carter stopped at the stop sign and looked around, trying to get that image of the woman falling on top of him out of his head. It wasn't going to come out easily. Sure, he knew part of it was just his imagination, like when she had been speaking to him, and how both bodies reached out to grab him. He knew none of that was real, but them falling on him, that had been real enough. His uniform was still covered in the gore. He must have accidentally pulled them onto him somehow, and they had both tumbled out of the car. And of course, the two firemen, the assholes who had been there, just laughed at the sight of him lying under the two bodies, neither one of them moving to pull them off of him.  He was sure that some dumbass kid had pulled out his cell phone and was taking pictures. He had seen the flash going off.  He opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them, and was glad to see that the sun was rising. It was almost there, just about to breach the horizon, the early morning light already forcing back the gloom. At least he had the day to look forward to. A day of sleep before another night of sitting, waiting for kids to screw around and get themselves in trouble. God, he couldn't wait until he could get himself home and into his nice, soft bed. Oh, just to pull back the sheets and collapse into it, let everything just the hell away from him for a while.  Yeah, he wasn't going to sleep worth a damn.  Why did he want to hurry home to that? He knew he was probably going to be sick again. He didn't think he could throw up anymore. Most of his supper was already splattered along that country road, and the remainder of it was in the puke bag he had made on his way back into town. He just hadn't been able to make it the couple of miles before his stomach had vomited more of the bile. There couldn't be much more left inside of him to throw up. Where was it all coming from? His stomach twisted. He could feel it rising. He quickly pulled open the door and stuck his head out ready for the assault of puke to rush out of him. Instead, he burped a foul taste as his stomach tried to push out his insides, but there was nothing left.  He closed the door and pulled off to the side of the road. He needed to breathe. Focus, count to 10, whatever. He needed to do something to get that image out of his head. It had all just been his imagination. She hadn't said anything. Even the fireman had said so when he asked them. Of course, they thought he had lost his mind when he had said that she was still alive and he had tried to get them to help her. They had looked at him, probably thinking he was trying to get a good joke over on them now that they had their laugh. Then the young one came over and checked her as he pulled her off of him. Nope, still dead. Not talking, he had said. Yeah, thanks, he thought. And thanks for finally getting her off of me. So he had imagined it. He hoped he had imagined it. He hoped it wasn't like before, that it wasn't like when Heather died. He hoped that she wasn't trying to reach him again. She had never tried to reach you. A voice cried out in his head. No, she hadn't. However, it had felt so real and had he not listened to her, he would have died. So whether or not she had reached him, he was still alive because of her. Still, it wasn't her. She had never talked to him. He was alive because he got lucky, not because his dead wife had told him to watch out for the semi that nearly hit him and would have ended his life. He was alive because he was just an extremely lucky individual and not a man haunted by his wife who had died five years ago. Luck. He took a deep breath and pushed the image out of his head. He was almost home anyway, only a couple blocks away. He already called to turn over the investigation to the state police. He was already clocked off to the county dispatch and he was officially off duty, only a couple of blocks, and he would be home. He put the car into gear and drove the quarter mile stretch into town. Huh? He briefly noticed that lights were on at the doctor's office. That wasn't normal. The dock shouldn't be in for another couple of hours. There was a car parked in front, Illinois plates, but not one that he recalled having seen in town before. Not that the car stood out as it looked like every other dark blue Honda, but he would have known if it belonged to any of the local troublemakers. He figured that someone could have broken into the doctor's office for drugs. He was sometimes surprised that it had yet to happen with some of the local deviants. Oh, how today's youth had fallen into such a waste. What were the future generations going to do when today's pothead would someday be in the White House? It was bound to happen, as respect was lost with each passing generation. He had to deal with it every day with the hoodlums that just seemed to be getting worse as they got older. Well, he guessed he should probably pull in and check on it. Damn, he had been hoping to get home to his nice soft bed, those cotton sheets and some quiet alone time. He could see his house. It was the small yellow one, just two blocks down on the right. It was right there. He could just keep driving and he would be home. He flipped on his turn signal when the front door to the building opened. A young woman was coming out, being followed by a little girl.  Well, he guessed then that everything was fine there. He flipped back off the turn signal. Home. Yes. Sleep. Yes. And soon. Well, he knew that the bad dreams were coming.  She wasn't a parent. She never made the claim that she was. She wasn't ready for that yet, for the responsibility. She would never have the patience. Nor, as she realized now, did she have the instinct for it. When the doctor's wife had come out to them and told them that it was probably nothing more than a small flu bug and just to keep Tylenol in the little girl that watched her for fever, Tina realized just how much over freaked out she had been. She had been ready to pound down the doctor's door to try and see him if they hadn't gotten lucky and found the doctor already in the office. I am so not ready for this shit, she thought, and she let out a deep breath. She was glad to be leaving there. She didn't know why, but she felt some kind of tension that had been growing there. Something was stiff with how the nurse had come back to them after speaking to the doctor and he hadn't even seen Lucy. Tina shook it out of her mind, like she would know if that is normal or not. He had probably so many false alarms or paranoid new mothers that came in, maybe they were used to the drill and the quick medicine. I really am feeling a lot better, Lucy said from the back seat. Tina looked into the rearview mirror. The little girl, her niece, really didn't look that much better. In fact, she looked worse. Her skin had lost some of its color and the darkness under her eyes grew thicker. You sure little girl? Tina said wryly to her. She tried to show Lucy a smile through the little mirror and Lucy responded by showing her the same. I do. It might just have been a little 24-hour thing. Tina was always amazed at how old her little niece sounded. She always seemed to be much older than her age and if Tina had been older herself, that might have worried her. However, with Tina being the younger daughter, it also made her the careless, irresponsible one. It was largely because she wasn't too much older than her niece and nephew herself. She hated that her damn sister had to leave town and left her in charge, in charge of the bar which technically her sister's oldest son was running and in charge of the two children. Well, Jason couldn't really be called a child, but her sister had wanted her to keep an eye on him as well. Tina didn't know why. He seemed more put together now than even she did back then. Can I still go to the basketball game later? Lucy asked from the back seat. Her voice was that little whine and plead that only girls that age seemed to master. Tina knew that sound well. She had used it many times on her own parents. Who was she kidding? She still used that voice on him, especially every month when her rent was due. I'm not sure.  Tina wanted to continue with, and you kept me up most of the night with you, but she left it alone. She was tired herself, and the only thing she was looking forward to right now was getting back to her bed. Ten hours of sleep was barely enough for her, and right now she was suffering. She maybe got three hours last night, but still had another seven to catch up on. Please, I feel better, really, Lucy was saying from the back seat. Tina pulled on to that last street in the town before it stretched out into corn fields and started to wonder if she should let her go. Lucy had gone to school the day before, and today was Saturday, so it wasn't a school day. It wasn't like anyone knew Lucy had been sick. If she truly wanted to go, she should be old enough to make her own decisions. Tina thought about it, debating with herself. She was trying to think what her sister would do. She tried, but failed. She had no idea what her sister would do. Maybe she should call her.  Tina said, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as she made the turn into the driveway. Tina looked back at Lucy and could see that she was smiling. That made Tina smile as well. After all, smiles were infectious, and Lucy was always such a cute child. Damn, her sister was lucky. Tina started to open the driver's side door when she heard the screen door crash shut. She looked up to see a tall, slightly overweight young man, only about 19, stomping down the back steps. He was hurrying past them and barely even saw them pull in. You hadn't heard the bar? Tina called out to him, as he was hurrying to his little teal-colored Chevy Malibu. It was an ancient old car, an old multicolored monstrosity that Jason had paid cheaply for, but it was his, and it still ran. He stopped suddenly, noticing them for the first time, and looked at Tina. Then he smiled and nodded. She smiled back and waited until he was in his car and backing up before she opened her own door. It was a small, too-car driveway. She didn't want him taking her out. Lucy was already out of the car, hurrying out of the passenger side. Tina didn't know how she had navigated around the large, overgrown pine bush that was snug against the passenger side of the car, but she had, and was nearly all the way up back steps to the door. Tina knew that she was going to let her go. She did seem well enough, after all, and it would mean the house would be quiet. Sleep. Ah, yes, oh glorious sleep. Chapter 11 Jason looked at the checkbook, and then he looked at the log again. He looked back at the balance sheet before he repeated the sequence. Man, he never understood how his mother was able to keep all this stuff straight. She had the boards, the 2020, checking all the machines, figuring out how much booze to order, and making sure the till came out okay. He was just perplexed. It just didn't quite come out, and match how it should, and he didn't know where he was making the mistake. He had already been at the bar for the last two hours, and at first, things had gone well. He had done their paperwork for the last two days. He should have done Thursday's numbers Friday morning, but, well, he had been tired, and the thought of doing anything more than just putting money in the drawer and unlocking the door just seemed like too much work. Besides, his mom wouldn't be home for another week. What was one day of slacking on the books going to matter? Or so he figured. Now he wished he had done them, because something wasn't adding up right, and he wasn't sure if it was something he miscounted from Thursday's numbers, something he miscounted from Friday's numbers, or if someone had gotten in the money bag from Thursday night and had miscounted change Friday night. Either way, it didn't add up. As far as he could figure, he was nearly 300 short, which meant that he wasn't going to have enough in the account to cover the alcohol check he was going to have to write because they were running low. He didn't know how they managed to go through so much Yeager and Blackhouse the night before. Skimpy, the resident Blackhouse drinker, must have been on a binge.  He wanted to call his mom, see what she thought, but then he would have to admit to not doing the books the night before. Plus, he didn't want her to think he couldn't handle it on his own. Not that it was his dream in life, but he did want to prove himself as being able to run the bar so that maybe she would leave it to him someday. He heard the heavy, thick security door at the back of the bar open and close. He quickly looked up at the clock. It was just past nine already. Shit! Jones would be in for his morning coffee. Jason quickly wracked his brain, trying to remember if he had put a fresh pot of coffee on when he came in. He had come in the front door just like he always did. For how the bar was constructed, a person would have to. The back door was locked at night with a large, thick piece of metal that looked like it had been a leftover steel rail from the train yard.  It had beeped at him three times, letting him know that all was okay and he may enter. Which was good. As the alarm wasn't set to call the police, it was set to call his mother's cell phone, which in and of itself was a pain as she would get called every 30 seconds until someone from another phone called in the security code. So he had taken care of the alarm and then what did he do? He was tired. He sure as hell remembered that. He hated to get up that damn early in the morning. So he had come in, went to the back door and unlocked it. Then he went to the windows and withdrew the broomstick handle that his mother had cut down to size to put in between the two windows so that they couldn't get opened. And then he went to the kitchen, made a pot of coffee before going to the safe. Yes, coffee. He took a deep breath and smelled the heavenly scent that drifted from the little kitchen area down the hall. Yes, there was coffee. Maybe he should get himself another cup. He was more tired than he thought he was. He quickly reached for the money that was along the top of the counter in different piles, using paper clips to keep each of the piles separated and drop them into a vinyl blue bank bag. Then with a quick zip of the bag, he dropped it into the empty sink below just as Mr. Jones was entering the interior back door. While his mother didn't care if early morning customers came in and saw her counting money, Jason did. He was just paranoid that way. He didn't feel comfortable with that much money around and people coming in and out. He focused his attention back to Mr. Jones as he came in and sat at the end of the bar. He was, after all, always the first customer of the day. He always came in at a little past nine, limping his way and using his cane to help him walk to the bar. He would then hang his cane over the end of the bar, prop his prosthetic left leg up on the foot rest, and then would just sit there and wait for his cup of coffee. He would never say it. He would never bark it out at them. But it was known that if he had to wait too long, he wouldn't be very happy. Jason hurried to the back to get Mr. Jones his coffee. After all, they were a bar, not a cafe. Coffee wasn't something that was normally on the menu. In fact, other than a handful of regulars, nobody knew about coffee being on in the morning. So the coffee pot was always kept in the back kitchen area. He grabbed the plain white coffee cup that was on the shelf just above the pot and hurried back to the front to deliver the steaming cup to the man sitting impatiently at the bar. No matter how fast that first cup was poured, it was never fast enough. Mr. Jones didn't do anything more than just glare at Jason until the cup was down in front of him and sat long enough for the vibrations along the top of the liquid to fade into stillness. Then he looked at the cup and brought it to his lips. Jason turned from him, walked back to the sink, and grabbed the vinyl bag. He tried to be as unobtrusive as possible as he took the bag back to the kitchen. He knew that Mr. Jones would probably have known what he was doing, but he didn't want to make a show of it. He set the bag down by the coffee pot, and then leaned back against the counter. He knew that he couldn't be back there for too long, not with Mr. Jones out there, but he didn't want to hurry back and have to deal with him. He didn't like Mr. Jones. Once the coffee got into him and the caffeine started to get the old man going, he would no longer be the silent glaring man. He would be talkative, have an opinion on everything, and the only right opinion would be his own, and Jason did not want to have to listen to him. And if Jason stayed in the bag for too long, or if he didn't listen to the old man, then Mr. Jones would leave early. It wasn't as though that was a bad thing. It would be heavenly if the old man would just stay away while Jason was running the bar. However, when mom came back, Mr. Jones would be all too happy to give his mother a report, and that would just never fly. With a groan, he pushed himself away from the counter and went back to the front of the bar.  He asked that damn question every day Jason thought to himself. He knew that the answer didn't matter. The old man knew, as well as Jason did, that it would be another week before she was back. Now the question was always meant to be more of a rub against Jason. It was the countdown until the all-knowing, the much kinder and the much better bartender came back. Jason didn't know why it bothered him. His mother would be back and he would be released to go back to school, back to campus that seemed so far away. She'll be back next week, Jason said as he opened the cooler and pulled out a diet Mountain Dew. Dew the Dew was in large letters across the top of the can, and he smiled at the thought of doing the Dew. Thankfully, Mr. Jones wasn't in much of a talkative mood yet. He didn't say much more as he took another sip from his cup. It was gonna be a long day. He didn't want to just stay there talking to the old man all morning, but he couldn't just leave the bar. He was stuck there. He had to take care of the place. He was, well, he was. He was stuck with him. Rob said under his breath as he stared down at the flaps of rubber and exposed metal of his now flat tire. No, not a flat tire. A flat tire would have been just that. A tire that had gone flat and with a little fix of flat could be drivable again. At least it would be for a short distance. No, this had been a tire blowout with the remnants of the tire littered along the country road. He could feel the heat that had risen in him over the frustration, and he could barely keep himself from continuing to curse at the mess of wire and rubber that was attached to his rim. He could barely keep himself from being out of breath. His heart was pounding in his chest, his hands still shaking from the adrenaline that coursed through him.  He was just running a little ahead of schedule on his way to the court date. He didn't have time to be dealing with changing a damn tire out in the middle of nowhere on a highway that was barely used now that the interstate had been put in. He hadn't been in the area at the time, but so many of the locals told him that it was when businesses started to close and traffic had nearly disappeared along the highway. Sure, the interstate was great to get people from point A to point B, but what about all the little mom and pops along the way? Not that any of them mattered right now. Right now, he just wished there was more traffic.  He kicked at the tire again, instantly regretting it as his foot recoiled, the pain shooting up his leg from making contact with a solid metal rim.  When the tire first blew, he had just barely been able to keep control of the car to get it off to the side of the road. He had been thankful. He had even sent a few prayers heavenly, grateful he had been able to get over to the shoulder and that no one had gotten hurt. He would be there for a half hour changing the tire. He would be on his way and all would be good, right? Wrong. When he went to open the trunk and get the spare, he found that not only was the tire iron missing, but the spare was flat. When he had pulled it from the trunk, it had hit the cement shoulder with a loud, flat thunk. After looking at it, he saw the large gashes and then remembered about the tire getting slashed a couple months ago. He thought he had mentioned to his wife Robin to get it fixed whenever she got a chance, but he guessed she, like him, must have forgotten about it. The town they had moved to just over a year ago wasn't just a small town. It was damn near tiny, hardly even a dot on the state map. Rob was one of the deputies there, had been ever since leaving the Chicago Police Department, and moving to the little speck on the map, but he did like it. It was quaint and peaceful, without the gangs and the violence he had always been around being in Chicago. However, that didn't keep bad things from happening. Like the slashing of his tires. It was one of the first times that he had learned the difference between something that would have been considered a passive act of violence, probably done by one of the local gangs in the city, and a little property damage done by the local kids just screwing around on a bored Tuesday night. Rob found out the difference when he had called it in to his chief and was told to just relax and it wasn't anything major. It was probably that Hampson kid, the one Rob had given a ticket to for curfew the night before. He advised Rob to talk harshly to the kid about it, play tough, but overall to just let it go. Rob had done so, but his tire was still damaged and at the time when he found it, he had just been about to start his shift. He changed the tire, worked his third shift, and had said something in passing to his wife about possibly getting it fixed. He thought he had asked her to check into it while he slept, but he couldn't even be sure if he had. It was just going to be a shit-fucked kind of day. After he had checked and found that he had no usable spare, he had gone into the car to grab his cell phone. At first, he had checked his pants pockets and had reached along his belt for its harness. When it wasn't there, he figured he had left it in the center console in his car. However, when he opened the door and reached across, trying not to lean too hard into the steering wheel as he fumbled around the center, he didn't see or feel anything. He reached back to where the center popped open. He looked inside. It wasn't in there either. He pulled back and looked at the car.  The car raced by, and with the speed it was traveling, the wind pushed Rob towards his car, then pulled him towards the road. The motion was quick and sudden, and Rob had to struggle to keep himself from losing his balance. He looked back and forth along the long stretch of highway. Other than the car that was quickly racing away from him, he couldn't see anything but cornfields and more cornfields. He couldn't even see any farmhouses nearby. He was lost to the children of the corn. All he needed now was to see little children dressed like the Amish emerging and carrying sickles dragging him to some cross deep amongst the stalks. Yeah, and he would be their sacrificed scarecrow.  Rob went back around to the passenger side of the car, figuring that at least if the car did sneak along the highway, it wasn't going to hit him as it raced by. He had no phone, no spare tire. He looked around. There was no house, no where he knew of that he could walk to for help. Not for at least another five miles when he would come across a cemetery and then another five miles after that before the first house he could remember. The idea of walking by a deserted cemetery out in the middle of nowhere on his way to salvation didn't seem like the most encouraging of ideas. He looked into his car. Just about the only type of communication he did have was his handheld CB radio, which he wasn't even supposed to have. Police officers weren't authorized to listen in to the trucker's radios, but the chief had suggested, unofficially, that Rob pick one up anyways, just so that when he was on duty he could keep an ear out for trouble. They had an interstate truck stop just two miles out of their little town and a CB could sometimes help gauge when things were going to go bad. Rob looked at it. Yeah, it would be able to communicate with someone if they were within five miles of here. Wasn't going to do much on an untraveled highway.   He didn't want to break his foot, after all. You're listening to the full-length audiobook hatched, Invisible Spiders Volume 1 by Jason R. Davis. You can find more of the Invisible Spider series as well as other books by Jason R. Davis on the audiobooks page at WeirdDarkness.com. We'll continue with our story when Weird Darkness Returns. Chapter 12. He stood in the shadows of the run-down house, watching as the smoke from his lit cigarette danced in the early morning sunlight. The smoke swayed with the wind that blew in through the broken window, and then it disappeared into the darkness of the house. It was an unsafe house to be in. It was ready for destruction, more than just a fixer-upper as all the windows were broken and much of the wood throughout the house had rotted away. The floor was covered in fallen debris from the new holes in the roof. When the roof had fallen, it had created even more holes in the floor which disappeared into a darkness. He did not want to find out what lay beneath. He did not like being in the house. It wasn't his to be in, but for now it gave him what he wanted, a view of the house across the street. From there he could see whomever came and went, and allowed him to see into the front room. He loved that they had a large picture window, and that the curtains never seemed to be closed. So he stood there, watching. He stood very still, afraid that if he moved, he'd fall through the weak floor. He had time to wait. He knew that whome he was waiting for would be there soon, and if he waited long enough he would be able to catch her alone.  A smile touched the corner of his lips. He went to flick the butt of his cigarette to the floor, but stopped himself when he thought about just how flammable the house could be. Looking around he saw a piece of metal on the wall.  All he had to do was wait. He could do that. He'd already been doing that for six months, three with good behavior. He had plenty of time. The scream seemed loud in the quiet of the early morning, like nails on a chalkboard. Billy grimaced slightly as he forced the door closed. The sound was from the electronic front door to the department store that he grudgingly showed up to work at three days out of his tortured week. The door opened just fine once the store was open, but when closed it had to be manually pulled apart and then pushed back together again. Because the little wheels didn't seem to be well greased and it didn't have the electronic power pushing it, it resisted much more and it squealed its protests every time.  Even if it did squeal when the store was open, he wasn't going to invest time or money into something as trivial as the front door. Not unless some bigwig was coming to town.  That seemed like the only time Tim ever did anything to make the store look any better than a shit-hole of a dump that it was.  Then Tim had employees painting the walls, the back hallway to the bathrooms, even the posts outside. All new lights had been put in throughout the store and it was the last time the lights on the display shelves had been changed. Most times those lights were easily forgotten about and the shelves left partially in darkness. Not that it mattered much. When the lights were active it just showed the layer of dust that caked the shelves and many of the display products. Tim was a lazy manager.  Some did put the extra effort in, though it never seemed to help much. In fact, for some strange reason the employees that worked the hardest always seemed to get shit on by Tim the most. The ones who deserved the raises and promotions, the ones who worked for it and were smart enough to do the job, always seemed to get passed over while jackasses always seemed to get moved up the ladder.  With how Tim promoted people these people should damn near have been kings. Following that philosophy Billy didn't know how he didn't own the place by now, as he sure as hell was the laziest of all the rest of them.    Billy closed the second door behind him and entered into the front lobby of the large department store.   Today was different though. He was happy to be there. No wait, he was ecstatic to be there. He was brimming. He even had a smile seemingly painted onto his face.  Billy walked into the break room in the back of the store, feeling like he had floated all the way through the empty store with his happy thoughts. He hadn't even remembered walking all the way to the back, barely acknowledging that he had. In the break room he had to pause because Jerome was sitting at the table in the center of the room. He wasn't that large of a room, with the far wall covered in a row of lockers for employees, next to it an outdated computer that still ran Windows 98 somehow. To the side wall was a small counter with a sink and a microwave. The microwave door was still open and Jerome sat at the table drinking a steaming cup of coffee and had the microwave's previous contents sitting in front of him. Billy could smell the burrito. It's stench assaulting his nostrils as soon as he opened the door.  His stomach twisted. He was glad that he wasn't a morning eater. He didn't believe in the most important meal of the day. If he did, he was sure that whatever he would have had, he would have been spewing onto the break room floor. Not that it was unusual for Jerome to be eating a morning burrito, but there was just something about the smell of it, like it had gone bad and Jerome just hadn't realized it. Whatever it was, it just made it so much worse than the average morning annoyance. Billy held his breath, already ignoring it as he continued to walk into the room. Hey, Bill, Jerome said as Billy walked to his locker. Billy was trying to ignore him as he wasn't ready for talking yet. He didn't know what to say.   You'll get yours, he thought. Yeah, he could say that to him. He better would wipe that smile off his face, too. However, it wouldn't do much more than that, and it would probably tip them off that he had something special planned for the day. Hey, he finally mumbled. He knew it was barely audible, but his lips didn't realize that his mind had already given the command to respond. He was still just trying to get to his locker and get out. All his facilities weren't working with him as he tried to reach that goal. If Jerome realized there was anything wrong, he didn't respond. He just focused back on his breakfast burrito and took a big bite of it. Billy turned away from him, started pulling out his pocket junk, and placed it into the appropriate pockets. His pens and paper went into his pocket, his name badge he affixed to the front of his shirt, and the neckband for some new lame-ass promotion he slung over his head. He was ready to go to work, which he felt was good, as he wanted to get away from that horrible smell that still plagued the tight space of the room. He was heading toward the door when Jerome sat down the burrito and called out to him. Hey, Bill! Tim called this morning. He's got a project for you, something I guess he talked to you about last night. Setting up some shelving in the back? I dunno. He said he talked to you. He says he wants it done by the time he gets in. Shit. So Tim wasn't even here yet? Uh, okay. So when is Tim in today? I thought he opened. Yeah, well, Tim is Tim. He said he had to run some errands, get some paint, and that he'd be in around ten. Paint? We getting a visit? Bill asked. He had reached out for the handle of the door and it rested there now. My guess would be affirmative, Jerome said. He was already reaching for his burrito, and Bill took the opportunity to start pulling open the door. You okay? Jerome said, his burrito still in his hands. He had been getting ready to take another bite when he stopped, and now was looking at Billy. He was really looking at him this time, looking him up and down as though studying him. Billy didn't like his gaze. It made him feel uncomfortable, as though he was under some interrogation light. The heat of that gauge pushed in on him and beads of sweat were growing heavy across his forehead. He didn't know why he felt that way as it didn't seem rational. Neither did the heat he felt and the wetness that had started to form in his palms. Yeah, I'm fine, he said under his breath, as he turned away before Jerome could say anything else. He quickly rushed down the short hallway to the men's bathroom. He burst into it and went straight to the sink to start washing his hands. He was also hoping that the fluttering that had started in his chest would stop and take away the tightness that had started to make it hard for him to breathe.   He placed his hands along the rim of the basin and leaned in against it, working to control his breathing. Finally, when he thought he had it under control, he turned to look up himself. What the... he started to say but stopped. Instead, he started to blink his eyes and quickly lowered his head. He reached up and pulled at his eyelid, pulling the lid out so that it covered tight over his pupil. The moisture inside flushing out his eyes so that any hairs or whatever else was in there would be cleaned out. It had been just a hair, hadn't it? It had to have been just a hair. Billy waited until he felt that he had flushed his eye enough. Then he waited for another second, continuing to blink his right eye until he was sure he could safely open it without any hairs caught. He opened his eyes and looked up at the mirror. There was nothing there. There was nothing where he had thought he had seen it. So he had imagined it. He had to have imagined it, right? After all, he couldn't have seen a spider climbing out from behind his right eye. There was no way it had ran out along the corner.  No, no, no. This was going to be a good day. Yes, yes it is, said another voice. A voice that wasn't his own but spoke inside his own head. Billy ignored it. After all, he had to go put up and arrange some shelving until Tim made his way in. He couldn't stand Tim. When Billy unveiled his big surprise, he wanted to make sure Tim was the first. Billy was smiling as he left the bathroom. Lisa typically loved the feeling of the wind blowing through her hair. To her, to have her straight blonde hair blown back with the breeze was invigorating. It would pull back away from her and then whip around a striker in the face. Often, she would have to reach up to pull it from clinging to her. Then it would again flow back and whip around to the other side. It was always an amazing feeling and the faster that she would push down on the pedals of her bike, that hair would whip around even harder. She would be flying with even more momentum and it would make the wind strike at her hair with even more passion. It was one of the reasons that she loved to go bike riding around their small town with some of the boys. They wouldn't do much, just ride and talk, but with how much joy she got out of just riding, that was really all she needed. She felt like, most days, she could just ride her bike forever. It was almost like an extension of her, and one she never wanted to be away from. None of her other girlfriends understood why she rode her bike so much. They all just wanted to meet up at the park most days and swing and play around on the merry-go-round. Sometimes Lisa would even go with them, but she usually tried to get out of it. Instead, she would just ride. Sure, being on a swing could sometimes make the wind push at her in what seemed like the same way. However, there was also more with riding her bike. There was freedom. Freedom away from her family, away from her brother, from reality.  Not that there was anything wrong with her planet, or even her family, but she was free away from them just the same. Nothing beat the feeling of the breeze and the freedom. However, she wasn't feeling all that free, nor was she feeling all that good. She didn't feel good at all, in fact. She had been lying to her aunt when she said that she was feeling better at the doctor's office. In fact, she was feeling worse, much worse. She was now starting to think that there was now something terribly wrong with her. In the morning, it had started with her stomach. The nauseating, flu-like feeling as though the world was now made of sponge, and every step that she took, the world seemed to absorb it and bend to it. Like everything around her was moving, and the walls were trying to step back away from her. The floor, or even the street beneath her, seemed like it was much farther away, and that her feet seemed to be nowhere near it. Nothing felt steady, nothing at all. The whole world was in flux around her, and now it was getting worse. Now the stomach issues seemed to be fading away, but her head seemed to be losing touch with the rest of her senses. There had been many times when she would ride her bike to the school, and she would be off daydreaming much of the way. In fact, that was par for the course, with how she liked to always be imagining things, but this was different. This wasn't just drifting off. Her mind wasn't drifting anywhere. There were no unicorns running around her, and she wasn't riding her powerful steed off to some adventure. She just didn't feel like she was there inside herself at all, and she didn't like it. In fact, she thought about possibly turning back, to go back to the house and telling Tina that she really was sick.  Her bed? What a wonderful thought. Her mind drifting back to her pleasant thought of the soft touch of her pillow as her hair gently lay down on it. She had made it to the end of the block the first time that she stopped her bike to look back at her house. She had stopped there in the middle of the street and just stared back. Her eyes were heavy, and every muscle was starting to ache. She knew that her being sick, the flu or whatever it was, was making her exhausted and made her joints ache as though she was, well, old. Maybe she should go back and rest. Let her muscles enjoy the soft caress of her mattress. She nearly turned her bike around. She had even started to lift her left foot back up to its pedal to just make the motion to turn around. However, she started to think about Bobby. She really did want to see him. She loved to watch him run up and down the court, hustling to bust through and take a shot. He wasn't the greatest player on the team and was oftentimes overlooked, but never by her. She looked back at the bicycle path that led through the woods on the way to school. The sun was already making its way high into the sky, but the path still had long shadows of darkness to keep its mystery. Not that there was much mystery. She rode on that path so many times that she knew every twist, every bump. She could nearly ride through the path blindfolded if she really wanted to test herself. She wouldn't, though. She just needed to get herself moving, and then it wouldn't matter. After all, once she would hit the path, she would be out of sight of her house, and then she wouldn't even think about going back to lay down. Go, let's go, a voice said to her. It was a strange voice, speaking inside of her head. She had always been prone to imagining conversations in her head, but this voice was alien to her. A shiver went through her as it spoke, like a tingling sensation through all her nerve endings. They all seemed to fire at once, every syllable, a shockwave of electricity. Go to the people. Go, go, go, the voice said. Each word it said grew with intensity and became more demanding. A warm sensation then went through her, and she started to feel the pain in her joints become numb. Her body started to feel more distant, and she started to feel like she was floating, flying just above the road. Her body started to feel distant from her, and she didn't seem to have any control over it. She could only watch as she turned the bike towards the path and started pedaling. She didn't know how it was happening, but she didn't care either. It was strange, but she just felt good. All she wanted now was to be around people. She wanted to get around as many people as she could. The stranger watched from the shadows of the house, a new cigarette blazing between his fingers, its embers glowing brightly as he pulled in a long drag of smoke. The little girl was leaving. A smile crossed his face, and his body tingled with excitement.  Now he can give her what she deserves. He started to work his way through the darkness of the house, being careful to step lightly and not step into any of the large holes in the floor. The house really did need to be torn down. It was a death trap in there, and he was surprised no kids had ever gone in and fallen through the floor. It just seemed like something kids would do.  He hadn't seen it the first time he had come into the house.  He was glad he had. It didn't look like something he wanted to fall into. He made it to the back door and eased through the slight gap stepping into the bright morning light. The sun was already growing warm. He didn't think it was going to be a hot day, but it would be warm enough to break a sweat, especially if he could really get his fun time going. He smiled to himself. Now that he was out of the house, he was already moving faster, quickly walking on the dead grass around to the front. He wanted to get to her before she had the chance to leave or disappear on him again.  He stopped when he reached the street. At the end of the street, the little girl was just sitting there on her bike. His heart started racing. She was looking back towards him, but he couldn't tell if she saw him. She looked like she was just staring back towards the house, but as she turned slightly, he would be dead in her view. Right then, he would just be a glimpse out of the corner of her eye. He decided to just stand there as still as he could. He tried to control his breathing, but it was hard as his heart was pounding in his chest. He had to fight to keep himself from breathing too rapidly. It wasn't as though she could hear him. She was too far down the street, but he wanted to keep himself from getting too excited.  So he stood there and watched. He moved his eyes to look back at her house. That large picture window was nearly directly across the street from him. He had loved watching inside of it from the safety of the shadows across the street, but now that he was exposed, standing in the bright morning sun, he would easily be seen.    He started to take notes out of the corner of his eye. He was too afraid to actually turn his head, but he tried to take notice of what he could of his surroundings.  That was one thing he had liked about the plan from the beginning. He didn't have to worry about too many witnesses. However, he now noticed another great aspect. He wasn't too far from the beginning of the trees. In fact, that may be why the girl wasn't really noticing him. She may have just mistaken him as part of the tree line. He was close enough to it. If she started to come back to the house, he may even be able to duck into them in time to avoid being seen. He chanced a small step back towards the trees, just inching very slightly when he saw the girl move. He stopped in his tracks, his whole body growing rigid. His breath caught as he watched her. She turned away, it was now peddling, hard, away from him. She was leaving. His smile returned as he could feel the pounding in his chest, the tightness that had started to suffocate him loosen and his muscles started to unclench. He hadn't realized just how tense he had gotten. The girl disappeared down a small bike path and he watched for a few moments before turning back to the house.  Finally, she was all alone. You can find all of the audiobooks I've narrated on the audiobooks page at Weird Darkness.com, including the sequel to the story you are listening to now. More of the audiobook hatched, Invisible Spider's Volume 1 by Jason R. Davis when Weird Darkness returns. Chapter 13 362 Jason felt a smile crease his lips and a little tingle in his body as he had finally figured it out. It had been right there, so simple but morning math had never been his strong suit. He had won and fixed it. Now, he could look down, place the last of the dollar bills in one of the five piles laid out before him, and be glad that the morning bookkeeping was finally over. He had finally gotten a chance to get back into the kitchen and recount the money, and just as he had hoped and because he was a little more awake, everything was adding up just fine. Which was good, since it meant that he didn't feel guilty as he slid one of the $20 bills from the deposit pile and put it in his pocket. He loved working for his mother, as it had its privileges. He smiled to himself as he subtracted the 20 from the deposit. Then he started putting each of the bills in their own envelopes, preparing whatever deposit slips needed to be made out, and completing both sets of the books. Then, one accounting book got put away in the hidden shelf under the popcorn maker while the show book got put with the rest of the paperwork. The hard part was done for the day.  What was that line?  Damn straight, he thought to himself as he turned the dial on the safe, securing the lock, and prepared to leave the kitchen. He had finally gotten a break from good old Mr. Jones when Tony, another old regular came in. Lucky for Jason, it was one of the few people that Mr. Jones got along with and vice versa. Mr. Jones was a hard pill to take, and there were many customers out there that would walk right back out the door at the side of him sitting at the bar. Freedom, Jason had thought, nearly saying it out loud when he saw the other gentlemen come in. As soon as the two had struck up a conversation, something about how the unions were killing them all, Jason quickly excused himself. Not only had he money to recount, but he had also learned long ago to never get into talking politics while he was bartending, especially when he didn't agree with what many of the people that came into the bar had to say. Now, he was a college boy and, well, his opinions never seemed to be shared by many of the older gentlemen who came into the bar. His mom had told him many times that he had accidentally run off a customer or two when he got into arguing with them about some political issue or another. What he thought was just a lively debate, the old coots always seemed to take personal. Not that he cared much. He was hardly ever home anymore, and once he graduated from school, he didn't really plan on ever coming back. Not that he didn't love it here, he did, but he just felt too isolated. He just always felt like he was cut off from the rest of the world. He was already feeling like a fish out of water every time he visited. It made it hard for him when he would have to explain things to his mom, his dad, or even the rest of the family. Jason looked through the little porthole in the wall that allowed him to see into the bar. There were still only the two men talking. Jason really didn't have a reason to be back in the kitchen anymore, and he really should check to see if they needed their coffees warmed up. He just didn't want to go back out there. With a frown that he quickly turned into a smile while crossing the threshold between the kitchen and back hallway, he walked into the front part of the bar. He figured that they wouldn't be there much longer, and at least he didn't have to be part of the conversation. Besides, he had already been thinking about giving his friend Sully a call. He knew that he would have to wake the lazy bastard up, but he could work on him and beg him to come down to the bar and hang out with him. After all, they'd barely seen each other since Jason had gotten back into town. Sullivan, also known as Sully, had been Jason's best friend since childhood. It had been since Jason's parents had moved to town, and he had found himself living just down the street from the year-old or child who acted half his age. Sully still acted half his age, still lived in town, but now resided in a small camper on some abandoned lot he was lucky he never got kicked off of. He stole someone's electricity, their internet, and for the most part only did the most minimal of work. The only real positive Jason could say about him, even though he still considered him his best friend, was that he did a podcast a couple times a week. It was just a fun horror show that he and Jason did together. In fact, it was Jason who had created the stage name for him, Sullivan, the legendary zombie hunter, which was funny because even though Sullivan did know a lot about guns and a little about living off of the land, Jason could never see Sullivan as the survivalist. Then again, what did a person call a man living in a camper off of what he could scrounge? Jason checked on the two coffees, topping them off and getting a mumbled thank you from both of the gentlemen. Then he headed to the phone, taking a quick glance at the clock. It was nearly 10, no way Sullivan been up yet.  It was time that Sullivan got up before noon. He figured he would probably have to call Sully five or six times in quick repetition before he would get himself out of bed. Still, what else was he going to do? When Billy first started sorting the shelves, he had a problem. What was he going to do with his surprise? He couldn't keep it tucked away into the small of his back forever and with him bending over, it was going to be seen. Sure, he was going to be in the back of the building and he would be by himself for most of the day, but people still came back there. He was next to the baler, the large menacing green machine that compressed and broke down the cardboard. People would be coming back there to use it. So where should he put it? His mind had pondered the question until he just decided to do something obvious. He was going to leave it in plain sight. Well, sort of. He was just going to sit it on top of a shelf. Of course, the shelf was going to be the top most shelf that was well over 20 feet off the ground and he was going to be using the only ladder going up there and back. It was going to be risky, but there wasn't too many other places that he could trust. He had momentarily thought of putting it in the baler. It was nearly full, so he could have tried to put it under a couple of boxes or in one of the smaller ones. However, he could think of a number of different problems with that plan. Besides it possibly falling down to the bottom, there was also the chance of it getting crushed and going off. There was just too much that could go wrong. He had thought about putting it on one of the empty file cabinets. Underneath the shelving storage area, there was a long row of file cabinets and boxes ready to be sold. These weren't the display boxes, but the actual product they would sell. When one was sold, the customer would pick out the one they wanted on the sales floor and a salesperson would go back there and grab the actual product. He could easily stash his surprise in any of those boxes. That would have been one of the best solutions. No one ever would have opened any of them, even if they would have been sold. That's just it though. If someone bought one, someone would be coming back there to get it for the customer. What would he do if another person came back there and took the box with the surprise in it? It wasn't like he could stop them and try to get it out. They would see it and then all his plans would be spoiled. He would have to start his party early, and he wasn't about to do so until Tim was there. You can't have a party without the guest of honor. So the party's surprise was 20 feet in the air where only he could get to it, and it bothered the hell out of him having it sit up there out in the open, if not at him, twisting him from the inside. He wanted it after all. He wanted to keep it close to him. He wanted to keep it there, tucked in the small of the back so he could feel it. The cold steel had been so comforting, touching his skin all morning, that he didn't like not having it now. He had to worry about it sitting up there. It could somehow fall or even be seen. He didn't know how, but he was sure it could happen. What if the vents kicked on and there was an extremely strong gust of air out of the air conditioning? The unit was only 100 feet away. What if it somehow was able to knock it off? He just wasn't comfortable not having it. Not after he had gone through the effort of bringing it there with him. Billy grabbed two of the shelves. They were the shorter L-bent shelves that the store used for putting books on when they needed to stand upright. He walked them over to the pile he had started in the back corner, and with the loud clank of metal, he dropped them roughly onto more metal. They rested in their new home. He turned to look back at the additional shelves that were stacked half-hazardly around the area. Lazy bastards. He knew that he was one of the lazy bastards, but he didn't feel that he was as bad as most. Sure, when he was done with a shelf after any of the various resets throughout the store, he would just set it down back there wherever it could sit without falling over.  That was the problem. So why should he do more work than everyone else? Well, for starters, because now he had to organize it. Shelves were leaning up against the other shelves. People couldn't even lift one up to put it with the other shelves on the shelf. Come on.  When a person brings a shelf back, just lift it up and put it somewhere, and that way, it wouldn't all be cluttered back there. Billy picked up another stack of shelves. These were the shorter straight shelves. They were labeled 13 inches, so he turned and looked at the ones he had already labeled. He saw a spot where he had put the white label with the handwritten 13 on it and tossed the shelves onto the others of the same type. The metal crashed together with that heavy sound and it echoed in the large receiving area. You okay over there? Billy quickly looked up to where his surprise was hidden. He couldn't see it from where he was standing, but that didn't mean that whoever was on the other side of the aisle couldn't see it. He tried to see just who it actually was through some of the holes in the aisle and was trying to place a face to the voice. He wasn't quite sure he recognized it. It had been a deep, gruff voice that Billy wasn't sure he had ever heard before. Yeah, I'm fine. Billy called back weekly. He really didn't want whoever it was to be coming over there. He wanted to stay all alone, away from everyone until his time was right. Aaron walked around the corner, ignoring Billy saying that he was okay. Billy looked at him and then turned away, sparing a brief glance up at the shelf that held his surprise. He hoped that with his back to Aaron, he would just go away. There were a couple of shelves near his feet and he grabbed them. Tim's got you doing this, huh? Aaron asked. Damn. Yeah, Billy said. He tried to talk his deadpan as he could. He was hoping Aaron would just get the hint as he tried to pour out a cold vibe to him. Billy had always been told that when he wanted to he could come off as being very menacing, insane type of menacing.  He said, there's just something about you, something in your eyes that's plain crazy. You're one of those insane types that one day is just going to explode.  Billy had always enjoyed those kinds words. He liked the idea that there had been at least one person that he had intimidated. And Billy knew why too. Chris, the bodybuilder, had once seen Billy getting picked on by some bullies. It wasn't an odd occurrence, as Billy had been picked on quite regularly. What had set this time apart was that Billy had done something Chris hadn't been able to believe. He had seen a large stick on the ground and grabbed it. Chris, when he had seen that, thought for sure Billy was going to attack the three kids that had been pushing him around, but instead Billy hit himself with the stick. He had started to hit himself over the head with it, his eyes open wide, and he was egging the kids on, yelling at them to come on, attack me. The kids hadn't known how to handle it and had run off. When Chris had walked over and asked Billy if he was all right, he had seen that look in his eyes. It was like there was madness there, no control, just insanity. It had freaked Chris out. When they were alone one day after school months later, Chris had been working out and Billy had been staying for another detention. Billy had just been trying to thank him, but Chris told Billy to stay away from him. He actually looked scared. Billy let a smile creep into the edges of his lips as he placed the shelves down. He loved the idea that he could instill that much fear in someone, especially someone that much larger than him. He liked that someone who could easily beat him down and crush him had been afraid of him. Now if only he could get Aaron to feel the same way. However, Billy worried that Aaron wasn't smart enough to be afraid. He was one of those people whose elevator never did go all the way up. Aaron wasn't small though. He was a tall, thick young man, a little younger than Billy and strong. Billy wondered why Tim hadn't wanted Aaron back there to sort the shelving, but then figured Aaron would have probably just thrown them all into one pile and would have been done with it. What do you need? Billy asked him as coldly as he could. Hey, I need your help. There's a customer out here. She's looking at file cabinets and asking questions and I don't know anything about them. So, well, maybe you could help her. Billy knew this way of helping was typically to grab the tag from the file cabinet and read the answers to the customer's questions directly from it, making sure to make a point of showing the customer where the information had been. He would oftentimes aggravate the hell out of most people and Billy loved it.  He looked back at the shelves. He didn't really want to leave back there, but he knew that if he didn't, he would have to answer later as to why he didn't help. Would he though? He knew he wouldn't. He had a surprise and that surprise was going to keep him from answering ever again.  He looked at Aaron's expectant eyes. He really always did walk around with such a clueless expression. Damn it. He looked up at the spot where his surprise was waiting. Damn, he hoped no one found it early. He had a fear that someone would see it or that it would somehow fall down. He knew that was impossible, but it still bothered him, leaving it all alone up there. Like it was a creature that could get lonely, he worried that it would try and find a new friend. Someone knew that would find it and use it for its purpose. Someone knew that would take it and leave him to be with his hatred. Yeah, fine, Billy said. Okay. Aaron started to walk back to the corner of the shelf heading towards the entrance of receiving. Behind him there was a little spider that seemed like it was trying to chase after him. Billy watched for a second, smiling at the little thing. It was odd. He had never seen anything quite like it.  He knew that couldn't be it, though. Spiders don't chase after people. They were more afraid of us than we are of them. There was no way a spider would chase after someone. Billy watched it for another second before he slammed his foot down on it. It was time to make another customer feel dumb. He guessed he could do it one last time. Maybe Tim would come in early and then he could get his surprise.  Billy started to follow Aaron out of the back, not noticing the trail of spiders that had formed at his feet and were now following him. Chapter 14. He stood behind a large pine bush, one that was wider and taller than him, allowing him plenty of shadows to disappear into. He had crossed over from the other side of the street, at first not caring about stealth. He had just strolled across the street and had been walking up the gravel driveway. It had crushed under his shoes and he had been remotely concerned about the noise of it, but then he heard the loud music coming from inside the house. He knew, no matter how much noise he had made, she would not hear him coming. But as he neared the back, he had spotted the old woman who lived next door. She was small, pale skinned, frail and, if he had to guess, also near blind, but he hadn't wanted to take that chance. She was walking away from him towards her backyard garden that was filled with sunflowers that had already grown larger than the old woman. When he had seen her, he had quickly dashed at first behind the parked car in the driveway and then shuffled to the bush. From there he could watch her and he waited until she was back near her sunflowers before he quickly dashed around the bush. From there it was only a couple of wooden patio steps that led up to the back door and, within half a breath, he was standing there. He doubted, with it being early in the morning, that she would have locked the door. The little girl wouldn't have been able to get back in, if it was, unless she had a key, but it was a small town, so he doubted that she would. He didn't even have to worry. The back door was wide open. Only the screen was closed to keep out the wandering insects. He quickly pulled it open and went into the kitchen. He was assaulted with some god-awful pop music.  That was nothing but jungle music. Some chick was whining away, someone else was speaking words into a microphone because he thought that was singing.  He could feel himself getting angry with the throbbing of the beats as it shook him. The vibrations were pulsating at him, throbbing his head until he could feel a migraine starting. His chest burned, but he could barely feel it as the music thumped at his temples, and created a pain that made all the other sensations in his body nothing by comparison. He knew why too. It wasn't just because of how loud the music played, or how much he hated it. He knew it was also because she was playing it. She was playing it because she had known that he was out there and she played that music to taunt him. She had always been taunting him. She had always made him beat her because she wouldn't listen. She wouldn't follow his rules. Why couldn't she have just been a good little woman and do as he had told her? He looked around the kitchen, trying to push away the pain that was now vibrating into the base of his teeth. He knew he was grinding them, making it worse, but he tried to ignore it. The kitchen was small, with the wall on the right covered in cabinets and drawers. It was a cheap, fake wood which fit with the cheap wood-colored paneling on the walls. The room itself barely had enough space for the small round table in the center of the fridge that was immediately to his left. When he had come into the room, he hadn't really thought about looking for a weapon, but now that he knew she was trying to goad him into fighting with her, he thought that maybe he should. He walked across the room to the drawers near the sink. Most people always kept their silverware directly to the left or the right of the sink, and in the second drawer he opened, he found what he was looking for. The large butcher's knife shined up at him, nearly blinding him because of the light reflecting from the sun. He grabbed and pulled it up to inspect it. His knuckles were turning white as he held it. His anger seathed, and he just wanted to squeeze it as hard as he could. He just wanted to squeeze it until it melted in his hand. No, he didn't want to squeeze the knife. He wanted to grab something else and squeeze it. He wanted Tina's throat. He wanted to squeeze her to feel the life course out of her. He wanted to wrap his large hands around that tiny throat of hers, cutting off her screams and feel her struggle against him. He wanted to take away all her noise, that damn whiny voice of hers that had nagged at him and always talked to him.  Her voice and that damn music, that ever-fucking music that seemed like it was the same damn song over and over again. He was going to silence her, and he knew that it was going to feel good. He smiled slightly and set down the knife. In the other room, he heard the roar of a vacuum cleaner. It was just vaguely louder than the music, but he was glad to hear it. It was something other than the pumping rhythm. It also meant that she was in the other room. He knew where to find her now. He turned away from the sink and walked around the table, staying as close to the inner wall as he could. He didn't know how much from the other room could be seen through the doorway, but he didn't want to run the risk of her seeing him before he was ready. He had the element of her not being able to hear him, but she could still bump into him and then they would both be surprised. Not that he had to worry about her fighting back. She was so tiny compared to him that it was not going to be much of a fight, but he knew that he would enjoy it more if he could be completely aware and catch her while her back was turned. He made it to the doorway and peered into the other room. He had expected a hallway, but the house wasn't designed that way. Spawned off of the kitchen, there seemed to be a game room with a pool table at its center. From there, there was a large doorway leading into what he guessed was the front room, the room he could hear that she was in. Directly to his right was a door, and on the left side of the room were two more doors. They were all closed, and he assumed they must have been bedrooms, as he couldn't imagine what else they could be. He could see her just through the open doorway. She had her back to him and was vacuuming near the large picture window, working to get around the couch that was pushed up against the wall. He eased into the game room and quickly went to the right near the closed door. She was out of his sight, but he let the sound guide him. The quieter sound of the vacuum meant that she was reaching out with the hose. Then he would hear the deeper growl of the machine as she would pull the hose back to her. He couldn't be sure, but it seemed like she was working her way to the far side of the room. If so, then her back should stay to him for at least another few seconds. He followed along the wall until he came to the doorway into the front room.  He should have just walked right in there, grabbed her, and started to have his fun with her. It didn't make any sense to draw this out and get caught by her, ruining his surprise. Caught. He hadn't thought it out as he made his way from the kitchen, but if he went into the front room to grab her, he would be in full view of the picture window. Any cars or anyone walking by outside would be able to see him. While he hoped that anyone catching the show would grab some popcorn and enjoy it, he knew that many people wouldn't understand. They wouldn't understand how the bitch had left and betrayed him. They wouldn't understand the agony and embarrassment she put him through. Someone might actually call the police. Then he would be screwed. But would anyone actually see him?  He had barely seen anyone even come down the street. The people in the houses on the other end of the block typically turned the other way. This house was near the end. Sure, the road turned back towards town and looped around, but almost no one came this way. He was safe. There wouldn't be anyone to worry about. Except for the little girl, but she was gone and he doubted she would come back so soon. He wasn't going to put it off any longer. He turned the corner and saw her. She was facing away from him in the far corner of the room, pushing the metal pipe of the vacuum cleaner into the corner between the couch and its matching love seat. He quickly crossed the distance of the room and when he got to standing right behind her, he reached out and quickly pulled, turning her around to face him. She spun with a sudden turn, wheeling around. When she finished and looked to see who it was, she stopped. Her face went white, her eyes wide in fear. Her mouth was open just a little and her body went straight. Vince, she gasped. He smiled at her. Now it was time for his fun to begin.  Rob could feel the sweat. It seemed like it poured out of everywhere. His shirt was drenched and he had rolled up the sleeves long ago. His white undershirt was soaked and he had his shirt unbuttoned. Of course, he was going to be stranded out in the middle of nowhere on what seemed like it was about to be one of the hottest days of summer. He would have sat in the car and the air conditioner, but the air hadn't been blowing too cool and when he checked his antifreeze, he found that it was low. Low enough that he needed to get some as soon as possible or the car was going to start overheating. He had tried to remember the last time he had ever really checked over the car and done any maintenance on it and realized that it hadn't been since last fall. It wasn't looking good that he was going to make it to the courthouse before the case was called. This did not make him happy. To get away from the stifling heat of the interior of the car, he sat on the trunk, his legs resting on the bumper. Beside him sat the handheld CB radio. He knew that it didn't have much range and that if he was found to have it, he could get himself in a lot of trouble. However, he was technically off duty so having it wasn't against regulations, as far as he knew, or so he hoped as he justified its use to himself. Record 19, four-wheeler in need of assistance. Is there anyone out there? Come back. He said into the radio. He had been talking to it regularly, doing a shout out through the airways, roughly every half hour. He had yet to hear anything back. He made sure not to mention that he was an officer as he knew that most drivers would never pull over for one unless, well, they were being pulled over by an officer. Still, the rest of what he said, as he spoke CB code, would hopefully get someone out there to help him out. That was, if they ever heard him, he was sure as hell hoping for a lot of, possibly and maybe today, he didn't like having to hold out and pray for luck. He pushed off of the trunk of the car and walked out to the center of the highway. The sun seemed like it bored down on him harder when he neared the yellow dotted line of the hot Midwestern asphalt. Something about being out in the middle of the road just seemed to bring down more of the heat, but he ignored it as he looked both directions. Nothing. He couldn't see a house, a cell tower, farm equipment, or any cars. He had never felt so useless, so helpless. It was like somewhere along the line, he had slipped into the twilight zone and was the last man on earth. He hadn't even realized that there were places in the United States that were still so far away from everything. Every time he had driven through here, not once, and he slowed down and taken notice of just how little there was.  He climbed up onto the trunk of the car and stood there, as the metal under him dented in from his weight.  He looked both directions again, same as he had done in the center of the road, but this time he tried to also look over the tops of the corn to see if there were any houses. There was one, maybe three to five miles back in the direction from which he'd come. It could have been a house, he couldn't really tell for sure. He could see trees and what may have been the white frame of a barn sticking out behind them, but he couldn't tell. Shit, he didn't want to walk all that way just to find an abandoned barn out there. Rob jumped down from the trunk, the impact of the short fall sending painful shock waves through his knees. He sure as hell wasn't getting younger, and moves like that often reminded him that he wasn't the athlete he had once been. Break one nine, can I get a bear check? Bear check, come back! Rob's heart skipped a beat. He swung around, feeling a pop in his back. He ignored it as he reached for the radio, nearly dropping it once he grabbed it. I got a bear for you, but he needs your help, driver, if you could. Which direction are you heading? There was a long silence. Rob regretted that he had admitted he was a police officer. Then there was a crackle and the voice came back over the speaker. I'm heading southbound, how can I be of assistance? Rob smiled as he started to explain his need over the radio. He was going to have to do a lot of praying when he got home, he thought.   When Aaron had come into the receiving area and had asked Billy to go out to the sales floor to help him, he already had a feeling that it was going to be another one of those neurotic customers who had a million questions and didn't care that Billy was just a minimum wage employee who could care two shits about it and who had no desire to look up the answers. Especially when it meant going to the internet for the answers, the same damn way the customer could.  He hit one of the boxes of file cabinets that lined the back wall of the receiving area. His hand went through the thin cardboard of the box and the sound of his fist hitting metal rang through the large back room. Shit. He quickly pulled his hand back from the box and looked over his shoulder. He had just turned the corner in receiving that was lined by high walls of white shelving filled with large brown boxes of unassembled chairs. From where he stood, he could see that no one not in receiving could see him. He smiled and looked back at the damaged file cabinet. Through the cardboard and in the dim light of the back area, there was a small dent that he could see on the metal. His smile widened. Good. Another piece of damage he could provide for the store.   After Aaron had walked him out to the sales floor, he had already been dreading the direction Aaron was headed. They had immediately turned right and Billy knew that only one thing was in that direction. File cabinets. A person would think that talking about and selling file cabinets would be an easy thing and Billy was sure that if a person was an expert on the subject, it may have been just that. However, if you didn't know much about them, things could get pretty difficult, especially with some of the amazingly mundane and senseless questions that were often asked. After all, how the hell was he supposed to know the difference between the different cherry colors? Wasn't cherry red? So shouldn't the color itself be red? How was he supposed to know if it would match and coordinate with the rest of the furniture in your office? The woman he had just helped had been like so many of the damn others. Not that he should have expected any different, but it was still like fingernails on a chalkboard. The whole damn world was the same.  Is this made out of real wood? She had asked. Billy mimicked her as he continued to walk to the back. When he was talking to her, he had wanted to say, yeah, it was made out of real wood. They just chopped it up into particle board and compressed the pieces before they boxed them and shipped them to the store. He had wanted to, and with it being his last day, he had been on the verge of saying just that. However, something always kept him from saying what he truly wanted to say. Instead, the honest, nice answer had droned out of him. At least he had said it to her in a deadpan emotionless voice to express his boredom. That had to have counted for some act of rebellion. It had taken him four more attempts at explaining to the old cute what particle board was and how it was coated with some, whatever the hell it was called, to look like real wood. And all the time he was explaining to her, he couldn't help but watch the spider that had been crawling along the white shelving just above the file cabinets. At first, he had leaned against the white shelf, but when he saw the spider, he had quickly jerked away. It hadn't seemed to bother her, though. It hadn't seemed to affect her at all. Didn't even seem to notice. At first, it had just been moving along. As she asked him another question, it went straight towards the woman. Then, when she opened one of the drawers, the spider dropped onto her arm. Billy watched with amazement. He had always thought that spiders were supposed to be afraid of people. When a person turned a light on in a room or approached one, they always scattered away. However, this one was actually going after the woman. Billy had to stifle a laugh until he realized that she had asked a question and he had not been paying attention. What was that? She was clearly annoyed at him for not paying attention and she started to repeat her question. He tried to listen this time, but he couldn't help but watch as the spider climbed the length of her arm. As it moved, Billy felt like he could feel goose bumps all along his arm as though he had spiders running along his skin. His arm twitched and he looked at his long sleeves. The fabric seemed to shift. He could imagine 50 to 100 little spiders crawling along under the fabric, dancing along his skin as he stood there and wasn't able to see them. The hairs along his arm prickled and the sensation gnawed at the base of his neck because he couldn't help but imagine that he was feeling them, their little legs scampering all along his arm. He had to itch at it to know that nothing was there. His spine felt like it had started to seize up and tighten on him in fear as he stood there and as soon as his hand touched his arm, the motion under the fabric seemed to stop and the sensations vanished. Relieved, he looked back up at the woman who was now looking at him. She wasn't a bad looking woman. She looked like she was in her mid to late 40s but she looked hot for her age, which didn't surprise Billy as she was dressed really nice in a casual but wealthy fashion that helped to attract to her beauty. He couldn't help but suddenly stand there transfixed by her and now he had a strong sudden impulse to kiss her. He didn't understand why but it was like a pull inside of him. Like something deep within him was trying to push him towards her, towards her dark red colored lips. In his mind images flashed of him taking her, holding her in his arms, kissing her longingly like he had never kissed a girl before. In truth, he rarely had ever kissed a girl before but the kiss he imagined was something more, something deeper and would last forever. Spread, spoke a voice somewhere from the back of his mind. He didn't have time to contemplate the new voice as he realized the woman was talking to him again. This time more harshly with her brow pinched deeply and what he guessed was frustration. Are you stoned? she repeated. Billy watched as the little spider that had been crawling up her arm disappeared under her sleeve and was out of sight. He was still amazed that she hadn't seen or felt it. A chill ran down his spine. No, ma'am, just not feeling too well. What were you asking me? He weakly asked. Never mind. I'm going to find your manager.  She had started to storm off towards the front of the store. Relieved, Billy had started toward the back again, glad to get away from all the damn people. Spread, said the voice again, and he had the desire to stay out front. A sudden sensation flashed through him to stay out there on the sales floor so that he could talk to more customers. Screw that, he thought, and continued towards the back. He glanced over towards the woman storming to the front of the store.  He watched as a small shiver went through her. She reached for the place where he had last seen the spider. She stood there for a second, just holding the spot on her arm. Then the second was over and she was once again walking towards the front.  Being away from it for so long had his chest tight with worry that someone might have found it or something might have happened to it. He knew nobody found it, otherwise someone would have been making some kind of commotion by then that nagging feeling wouldn't go away. He knew it wouldn't until his surprise was back in his hands. Once he was back in his little corner, the first thing he did was move the ladder back to where he could climb up to get back to his stash. Then, taking the rungs nearly two at a time, he climbed up to the top, the ladder shaking back and forth, the metal clanging harshly against the cement as he rushed. He knew that he was making a lot of noise but he didn't care. He just wanted to make sure that everything was safe and that his surprise was still there. He let out a breath. It was. The cold steel of it soothed him as he reached out and touched it. The metal was smooth and he traced his finger along its edge just to get the feeling of power that it possessed. He couldn't stop the smile that touched his lips. William! Someone yelled from the other side of receiving. Billy didn't know why but he tucked his surprise in the waistband of his pants, smoothing his uniform shirt over it so it wouldn't be noticed. Yeah, Billy called out as he turned and started to walk back down the ladder. Aaron came around the corner just as Billy landed from the bottom step onto the floor. Tim's in. He's up at the service desk talking to some customer. He wants you up there. Billy grinned. Tim was finally here. Now it was time to get the party started, he thought, as he walked past Aaron.  Yeah, but you know what?  He could tell from Aaron's expression that he was confused. Oh well, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered as it was all going to be over soon enough. Billy almost felt like whistling as he walked. You're listening to the full-length audiobook hatched, Invisible Spider's Volume 1 by Jason R. Davis. You can find more of the Invisible Spider series as well as other books by Jason R. Davis on the audiobooks page at WeirdDarkness.com. We'll continue with our story when Weird Darkness returns. Chapter 15 When Rob felt that first cool blast of air conditioning, it made him feel as though he was going to pass out. It was painful, attacking at his overheated temples, causing a massive migraine to instantly form while causing a numbing sensation at the same time. He went woozy from the sudden shift from hot to cold and the helplessness of being lost in his own body washed over him. But he knew that he couldn't show the changes that were swimming around in his head. When the large semi-truck had pulled to the side of the road just behind Rob's car, he had to keep himself from running over to the driver's side door. Instead, he played it cool, acted like the professional police officer that he was, and did the slow stalk. He knew he shouldn't be playing hardball as he really was desperate for the trucker's help, but years of pulling people over to the side of the road took over the desire to be saved. It was almost like a habit, so intertwined with who he was that it was like breathing. The driver didn't seem to take any notice of it. As Rob approached the door, the driver already had it open and was sitting halfway to the side waiting for him. If Rob had pulled the truck over and had it been on an interstate, he would have gone to the passenger door, but since the road was deserted, he didn't see the harm. It wasn't like he had to worry about additional traffic hitting him. So he walked around to the door to see the large man staring down at him, trying to hide a smirk. Car trouble, the man asked.  Rob could tell by how he asked him, but he didn't feel as though the driver was trying to be belligerent. If anything, it came across as being good-natured, and like he was trying to make light of the situation. He could say that, wife trouble, car trouble, same thing, Rob said. He had been trying to make a joke, but as soon as he said it, knew that it didn't come out that way. The driver just looked down at him with a confused look on his face. Think you can let me use your cell phone to call for some help, Rob asked. He had started to move forward to climb up on the side of the truck, but stopped himself when he remembered he was being courteous. To climb up on the driver's truck would be awfully forward and invasive. Something he was good at doing while he was on the job, but he wasn't on duty right now. He needed to work hard to try and curb his instincts.  Well, sure, if you want to go back about a hundred miles and pick up the pieces, the man said. He wasn't smiling now and seemed to actually be a little flustered. I slipped this morning trying to climb into the truck. Damn me, gave out. I had my phone in my hand. It had gone flying across the parking lot to be run over by another truck.  I just got that phone last month. Shit, you're having nearly as good a day as I am. The driver took a quick look over to his car and then looked back at Rob. I hope not. The smile returned to his lips and Rob laughed as he caught on to what the man was implying. I think you can give me a ride to somewhere I might be able to make a phone call, a truck stop or something, Rob asked. He was beginning to worry that he wasn't going to be able to find a way of calling somebody. It just seemed like all the cards were getting stacked against him. Well, there's a diner about 20 miles down the road. I typically stopped there as they have some of the best barbecue this side of the Mississippi. I guess I can drop you off there and get some lunch. Rob smiled as the man motioned to his passenger door. Get in. And Rob had, just to be assaulted by the air conditioner, but for as much as it hurt, he didn't complain. He knew that once his body adjusted, he would start to feel much better. I'm Bruce, the driver said. As soon as Rob had gotten his seat belt on, Rob looked over to see that the driver's large hand was held out to him. He finally really looked at the man. He looked to be slightly stocky, not really fat, but well built, possibly in his mid to late 30s, but his hair was already starting to recede. He was dressed in well-worn, grease-covered jeans and was wearing a Chicago Bears t-shirt. How could Rob not like the man? He was a Bears fan. He shook the man's hand, feeling the firmness of his grip. When he let go, he reached back over to close the passenger door and knocked over a large binder that had been sitting on the dashboard. The door closed violently, and Rob reached down to pick up the book. He could already see that it was the logbook and the last date had been for two days ago. Rob looked over at the driver. Make you a deal.  Hell, Rob wouldn't have said anything anyway. He was just happy to have a ride to salvation. He didn't care if the driver was over on his hours or behind on his logs. He just wanted to get out of there. Fine with me, but it's a little early for lunch. How about breakfast? How's their biscuits and gravy? Nearly as good as their barbecue. Sounds good. Rob could already feel the headache starting to fade as his body started to cool down. He eased back into the seat and felt the rumble of the diesel engine as the driver put the truck into gear. He had never actually ridden in a semi before. He hadn't realized how loud they were to be in or how much they vibrated a person's whole body. With his eyes closed, he could almost imagine being in one of those massaging chairs as the whole truck shook when it picked up speed. Rob looked over at Bruce. Thank you. He kept his eyes on the road but smiled. No problem. Tina's knuckles cracked against the pressure of the steering wheel. The skin turning white from gripping the wheel so hard that all the blood was trapped in the tips. Her mouth was clenched and she felt like she could taste iron in her spit. Her gums hurt as her teeth ground together. Yet she couldn't bring herself to stop. She felt like she was clenched up all over. She knew she was safe now, but she couldn't bring herself to relax. Her eyes were wide open, but they were fixed at one point in space. An indistinguishable point as she wasn't even focused on it, but just staring blankly at it. Here, she wasn't even sure where here was. She wasn't sure how she had gotten into her car. Why had she gotten into her car? Well, that was easy, to run away. But to run away from what? Who? She knew who she had been running away from. She had been running away from someone. It had been her ex-boyfriend, Vince. She had been running away from him. She was suddenly aware that her jaw hurt from more than just clenching her teeth. The left side of it felt sore. It felt tender, throbbed with a feeling as though that part of her face weighed more and wanted her to tilt her head to compensate for it. It felt like it was bruised. She blinked her eyes a couple of times, trying to force wetness into them. Then she turned to look at herself in the rear view mirror.  Had she really gotten beaten this bad? She wasn't sure. She did see the bruise already starting to form where she felt the pain and knew that he had hit her. She lowered her head and reached out desperately trying to grab at the memories of what had just happened to her. Her breathing was erratic and her chest heaved in painful motions. It felt like her heart wanted to escape. She knew that she was in the middle of a panic attack and was just barely able to keep herself from breaking down into hysterics. It was just there on the edge with another set of tears that wanted to flow through her. As she looked at a reflection, the little mirror just showing her the edges around her eyes, she saw that her eyes were large, red and puffy from crying already. Her hair was a mess. She really didn't want to go into public with it looking that way. Maybe she should go back to the house and grab a quick shower, clean herself up before she came back to talk to Jason. She released the steering wheel and wrapped her arms around her body. An insane giggle escaped her lips as she realized what she had just been thinking. She didn't want to go into public for any reason. She just wanted to find a dark corner, curl up into a ball and let the world pass her by. She would be extremely happy if she never had to go into public ever again. She looked around at the parking lot, this time actually taking note of the cars that were parked there. There was only three. One she knew was that old peg-legged man who came in every day, but the others she didn't recognize. A shiver ran down through her and she suddenly felt uneasy. Peg-leg was there and he always made her feel that way. She was always disgusted with how he looked at her, like if he was more capable he might try something with her. Ugg, she said. She finally started to get her breathing under control, falling back against the car seat.  Vince was there, his face etched on the back of her eyelids. She knew that he would always be there now. She had never expected to see him so soon and while she had been hoping that when she left him it was just temporary, she knew it hadn't been. He must have felt it too. Why else would he have come after her to take her home or had he been there to kill her?  When he had spun her around to face him, he had looked like he was possessed with anger and a smile on his face that scared her. He had looked so happy to see her, but it wasn't in that good way like when distant lovers finally see each other again. No, this was an excited smile like kids had when they were able to play with their toys in maniacal ways. She had become his toy and he was going to play with her. If she was lucky she wouldn't live through it. Then he had slapped her hard, his back hand slamming into her cheek and sending her backwards. She had nearly fallen and had already been trying to turn her head to see if she was going to land against any of the furniture. He caught her before she fell too far back and pulled her close. It had been such a hard tug that when he had grabbed her by the arm she felt his iron grip. She knew that there would be a bruise there, but she had no way to stop him.  She could smell his breath, the smokers hot, fiery breath that reeked of days of cigarettes. She wanted to grimace and turn away, but his free hand had reached up and grabbed her by the back of the neck and kept her facing him.  He did it so forcefully that it hurt and she could feel her lips cutting roughly against her teeth. His tongue tried to pry its way through, but when it couldn't he pulled her back away from him. Then he was staring at her again, his eyes glared into her, drilling into her head. She didn't know what to do. Her breath was coming in short gasps. Her chest was heaving deeply and she could feel his body pressed against her every time she inhaled. She could feel her eyes going dry from being opened so wide, but she was too afraid to blink. She was too afraid to do anything. If she could stop breathing right then out of fear, she would. Just the sight of him made her heart want to stop beating and play dead. That's what worked for a bear attack, right? Why couldn't she get away with it? Because he already had you, that's why, she thought. Miss me? he said, his voice a dry rasp. She knew that he was angry, but what scared her was that she couldn't hear it in his voice. It sounded dry, which was no surprise as he always seemed to talk in that deep, raspy voice, but it was not filled with anger. It was calm, almost to the point of being soothing, which terrified her more. If he showed anger, she knew he would be hitting her, maybe break a bone, but he would leave when she was too badly hurt and was ready to go to the hospital. It would be her education as she knew it. But he was calm now. Calm meant that he was dangerous. It meant he had been planning on things to do with her and she may not survive them. She could tell by that look in his eyes that he had no intention of her walking away. She saw his eyes look up and she turned to follow his gaze. Outside the large front picture window, she saw the old house across the street and the little patch of woods next to it. The fear registered deeply onto her face and she turned back to look at him. She could tell that he knew she had figured it out. His smile widened. Hello, Vince, she said. Her voice had been barely a whisper and it had shaken out of her in a couple of short gasps for breath. So whatcha been up to, Tina? He said to her. He was backing away from the front room, dragging her with him. She saw what he was doing. He was getting her out of view of that large window. Whatever he had planned, he didn't want to take the chance of getting caught doing it. She knew it wouldn't have done much good. No one ever came down the street, but he still was afraid of it. Damn, she wished Lucy would come back. No, she didn't. She didn't want her niece back there. She didn't know what Vince was capable of and she didn't want Lucy, her little niece, seeing it or getting caught up in it. She didn't want to take the chance of her getting hurt. Tina already knew that she herself was going to get hurt. A lot. She knew by that look in his eyes that she was going to be put through a lot of pain and there was a good chance that she would never see her niece, her nephew, her sister, any of them ever again. Once they crossed the threshold into the game room, Vince spun, pulling Tina with him, which propelled her face first into the side of the pool table. She hit it hard and almost fell on top of it. She had tried to reach out to keep herself from falling too heavily into it, but with him still having hold of her one arm, she was barely able to get the other out in front of her and her body had taken much of the force.  Vince pressed up against his groin, grinding into her rear end. He leaned down over her, pressing her stomach onto the pool table hard. He was nearly putting all his weight on top of her. Then she felt his rough, unshaven face as it rubbed against her cheek. I'm sure you missed me, he whispered in her ear. Well, I'm going to be leaving here soon, but I want to give you something to remember me by. Yeah, he was going to be leaving soon, but she knew she wouldn't be alive when he left. Damn, now she was scared Lucy would come back home. She hoped like hell that Lucy didn't, but she was scared.   She couldn't remember one single quality that she had ever really liked.  Had she been that desperate the whole damned time? His weight eased off of her, and she could hear him undoing his belt buckle with his free hand.    She knew it, could see it, and from somewhere deep inside of her, the pain in her chest burst into an explosion of built-up energy. It was like a switch had turned on, and all her muscles suddenly were energized. She was on fire. All the pain she had felt moments earlier was gone, and eagerness filled her. A destructive nature joined with her pensive self, and she felt like she wanted to do some damage. She, for the first time in her life, felt like she wanted to inflict pain. She didn't know where this fountain of energy flowed from, but it brought with it sudden realizations. She suddenly felt something under her chest, and she remembered what it was. It was acoustic. It was under her right hand. She didn't even realize that it had been there before. She didn't have to think about what to do. He was still distracted with trying to get his pants down, and had already let go of her other arm to fumble with his butterfly. He wasn't even watching her, and she knew it. Her hands gripped the pool cue, and in a sudden spin move she swung it into vents. The cue seemed light in her hands, though she knew it was solid from the few times she had played on the table, and when it hit him, it made a loud cracking sound that she hoped had been Vince's skull and not the cue. It didn't matter if it was the cue or not, because Vince rocked back, stumbling with one unsteady step, and then another. He lost his momentum on the third step, and dropped with a bone-shattering thump. Then he was slumped back against the wall, his eyes glazed over and looking at her. She wasn't ready to quit, though. The cue had cracked. She looked at its bent shaft and discarded it to the side. She glanced back to the pool table, hoping to find another one, because she wasn't done. A rage had been released inside of her, and it was hungry. It wanted blood, and she wasn't ready to stop giving into it. She didn't see another pool cue, and had a brief thought as to where the other stick might have disappeared to. Jason had probably put it in his room since the other cue was his special one, with some picture of a half-naked girl along the staff. Either that or he had taken it to the bar. It didn't matter. It wasn't there now, but she did see the cue ball. She reached across the table and grabbed it. When she walked back to Vince, he was still looking up at her blankly. She didn't care. She brought the cue ball down and smashed it against his face, hitting him square across the jaw. It hit with a thud. When she pulled her hand back, she saw that his cheek was torn open and part of a tooth was exposed. She brought the ball down again and again and again, at first keeping aim towards his mouth, wanting to shatter those lips out of existence. But when she saw that it was nothing more than a bloodied mess, she started bringing the ball down on his chest and his stomach. He was still breathing when she finally stopped, his breaths in short rasps. He was a bloodied pulp, not even recognizable as a man. She wasn't sure how alive he was until she stepped forward, stomping between his legs.  Vince screamed out. He was still alive, she thought. In a way, she had been sad she hadn't killed him, but thought it was probably better for her. The guilt and the fear didn't settle in until she had brought her car to a stop in the parking lot of the bar. By then it had all seemed like a dream. It couldn't have been real. She wasn't a fighter. She could never strike a man as large as Vince, let alone nearly kill him. And what if she had killed him? She sat there at the bar, her hands trembling as she pulled them away from the steering wheel. What if she had killed him? What was she going to do? She had come to the bar to talk to Jason, to send him back to the house and check on Vince. Maybe he could help her out somehow, though she didn't know how. However, now that she was at the bar she didn't want to do that. What kind of person would drag her nephew into this? How could she make him an accomplice, possibly having him go to jail for the rest of his life for murder? He was going to college. She couldn't screw that up.  She had to take care of it herself. The realization finally came to her, and she took a deep breath to seal the deal. She was going to have to go back to the house. There she would check on Vince, call the police, and tell them what happened. It was the only thing she could do, right? She couldn't bury him across the street in the woods. She would get caught. Sure, people hardly ever went over there. In fact, no one ever went over there, but someone would someday. They would find the body, the police would be called, his body would be identified, and hey, wasn't the sister of the owner of the house across the street a known lover of this man? Geez, wouldn't take the investigators on CSI to put that one together. And she knew the body would be found. That was just her luck. She wasn't the type of person to get away with anything. If she ran a yellow light on a deserted road with no one visible for miles, she would still get pulled over by a cop that she hadn't seen. It was the way the world worked for her. She had to go back to the house and call the police. A loud, thundering sound shook her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see Jason coming around from the back of the bar.  You coming in? You don't look too good, Jason said. Shit. Chapter 16 What can I get for you, darling? The woman said from behind the long countertop.  Bruce looked at him, still with the smile spread on his face. Looked like they had a shared secret between the two of them, but he figured it probably was because Bruce was a regular, and the place looked like it desperately needed a few of those. The place looked like it was an excellent condition. Clean and right o