ut of a 50s movie, with polished chrome lining all the fake marble counters, the booths looked like they had just come off the truck with well-patted bright red seats, the shiny condiment racks that nearly blinded him with the sun's outside reflection. However, as customers went, the place was deserted other than just the two of them. He had been surprised at just how nice the place looked. Being far off the interstate and the little customer traffic they must have gotten, he was expecting some hole-in-the-wall diner that only passed its health inspection by the fact that the inspector could never find the place. But Alice's wasn't like that. Instead, it felt like a place lost in time. As soon as they had come in, the waitress, whose name wasn't Alice, had yelled at Bruce, her voice welcoming him in with a chuckle. Don't you ever get tired of seeing my old ass? She had bellowed to him. Bruce had bowed his head. The smile that Rob was beginning to think never left his lips grew wider, and he had gotten out of the way so that the woman could see Rob behind him. At first, her gaze had darkened on Rob, and he assumed that it was probably because she thought that Bruce had gotten himself into some kind of trouble. But then, when she saw that Bruce was smiling, she smiled too. Then, Rob had asked if he could use the phone real quick. She mentioned that they had a pay phone backed by the restrooms but wasn't sure if the line was still hooked up. With cell phones, after all, nobody ever used the cursed thing nowadays. The phone still worked, and he had been able to make his call to the courthouse over in Ottawa, the one in Illinois, not the one in Canada, which people always thought he was talking about. He couldn't blame them, though. Before he had moved to the area, he would have made the same mistake. He checked in as to the court case in which he was supposed to be testifying. As he had feared, it had already been thrown out because he wasn't there. The little punk would be free, not even having to pay a fine. It had been the second case called, and the clerk on the phone, who was getting testy with him, made sure to point out that if he truly cared about the case, he should have been there. He didn't argue. It wouldn't have done any good. The case was already over, and now he had to keep an eye out for whatever the little punk was going to do next. He knew it wasn't over.   The fact that the case had been thrown out was probably for the best in the short term. If the case hadn't been read yet, he would have abandoned his car to try and get someone to give him a ride the rest of the way to court. Now, he could see if Bruce would give him a ride the rest of the way into town and drop him off at a local shop to see if he could get a tow.  Bruce here, he always recommends the biscuits and gravy, but I think that's what he says about every place he goes, she said. Bruce opened his mouth to argue, but she looked at him and continued without giving him the chance to speak. Don't even try to deny it. I've heard you with other people in here. Every story you tell usually starts with you being in some location and how great the biscuits and gravy were.  Rob's smile grew wider as he took the seat to the right of Bruce, trying not to crowd him in the confining seats. The waitress, whose name badge he could now see said Evelyn, had turned her back to them to grab the pot of coffee. She was an older woman, probably in her 60s, with permed white hair, but Rob couldn't help to notice how slim and crevacious she was. For being an older woman, she was still very attractive, and he wondered how she could have stayed that way working around such greasy food all day. I'll just take scrambled egg whites and dry toast, Rob said. Bruce started to laugh, but caught himself and snuffed it out. Been to the doctor lately? Bruce asked. Last week, Rob admitted, Bruce shook his head knowingly and looked back up to Evelyn. So, new owners? He asked, nodding to the new looking booths. You know it. Renamed the place and put a lot of new money into it. They sure as hell don't know what they're doing, but it sure does make the place look a lot nicer. I'm guessing we'll be seeing some new owners again in about five months, eight tops. That'll make six new owners in four years, she said, the last part wistfully. Rob didn't think she realized it as she seemed to drift off and do a daydream. In a second, she was back and studying the two of them. At least the place is nice, and they went with a theme. Neither one of them are called Alice. They just took the name from the song and thought it would be cute. Rob laughed. He hadn't even thought of that. She looked at him. I don't find it too funny. Name in a place after a song called Alice's Restaurant Massacre, after there had been one hell of a bloodbath here last year, all the third shifters were killed, as well as the few customers that had been in here. Rob's face whitened. He had heard about the killings, but he hadn't realized they had been in here. Evelyn poured his coffee, and he relished in the warm aroma that rose up to meet him. Heaven, he thought, as he brought the cup to his lips. Sweet, sweet heaven. She finished writing down his order on a little slip, turned and put it on the rotating spindle for the cook. Then she rang the bell and spun it around so that it faced the kitchen. Another bell rang out, this one from the door behind them, and Rob quickly turned to see who was there. Bruce turned more slowly, more out of curiosity than the instinct to watch his back. A tall, thin black man stood in the doorway. He was wearing a suit, but had it pulled loose probably due to the heat. His suit coat was off, probably left in the man's car, and his sleeves were rolled up. His hair was cut short. He was clean shaven, and on a normal day, Rob assumed that he was even more pristine and clean cut than he was now. He estimated him to be somewhat official, however.   Whenever he saw a salesman, they seemed to like to add color to their suits. Blue shirts or even pink if the man was comfortable with his sexuality. Rob also guessed that the man didn't get out of his office much. He didn't seem comfortable out of air conditioning. Sweat dripped down his face, and he had a napkin in his hand that he kept wiping his forehead with. He stood in the doorway for a second, waiting for his eyes to adjust and basking in the cool air conditioning before he walked the rest of the way into the diner. The man wasn't smiling, even as he approached the counter and sat a couple of stools from Rob. Evelyn was already walking down to him with the coffee pot in hand, but he didn't even look up at her as he put a hand over his coffee cup and turned to Rob. I'm looking for a town called Hammond. I'm trying to find a doctor. The man reached down into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small slip of paper. Wilson. Rob looked questioningly up to Evelyn. The stranger misinterpreted that glance. It's nothing serious. He just called our offices at an extremely early hour this morning about something, and I'm on my way through this area, so they asked if I would check it out. Well, I'm not from this area, but she may. Rob had started, but Evelyn started talking over him. Who are they? She asked. The man looked back and forth between them. His face looked puzzled, and he seemed to be trying to figure out whom to respond to first. Either that, or he was trying to come up with a story to tell them that they would believe. Rob wasn't sure which. He could say the man was uneasy, and he guessed it was because Evelyn had asked the question Rob should have been asking. Not that he was investigating anything, but it was being inquisitive. As an officer, he was supposed to always be inquisitive, always ask questions. Damn, he's gone soft moving out of the city and now working in a small town, he thought. You know where I can find him? The man asked, turning his gaze towards the woman. Evelyn stood there and it just struck Rob who she reminded him of. Some woman he had seen on television, some spy show. She looked acted and sounded just like the spy's mother. All she needed was a cigarette in her hand and it would have completed the image. He had new respect for her, could see her being tough as nails, and had the feeling that she was not going to tell this man anything until he answered her question first. Like I said, who were they? She said back.  She placed the pot on the warmer. Another bell rang, this one from unseen hands in the kitchen and two plates that emerged on the pass-through. She grabbed the plates and turned towards Rob and Bruce in a way that kept her back to the stranger. Damn, she was good, Rob smirked to himself and watched the stranger. It's not a big deal, the man said.  Rob turned to look back at Bruce. He had his head down, but Rob could see the large smile on his lips. Sure, he was always smiling, but Rob could swear he heard the man chuckling under his breath and was having to work at not laughing out loud. Well, if you're not willing to help, the man said as he turned to stand. A flash of sunlight caught Rob's eye and he saw the little badge clipped to the man's waist and could see the large letters imprinted there. So what does the CDC want to talk to this doctor about? Rob asked. The man stopped cold and looked him up and down. Like I said, the doctor called in something this morning. We get a dozen or so calls like it today, so it's nothing to be concerned about, but we do investigate them all. Always so quick? Rob followed up. The man just continued to stand there, watching Rob as if measuring him. Rob guessed he was trying to figure out if he was a threat who would start making a lot of noise in the press or if he was going to be reasonable. Rob figured the man must have taken him for the latter. No, but I was in the area. My sister is getting married in Ottawa tomorrow night. I needed an excuse to get away from the groom's family. I don't mix well with rednecks, no offense. Rob smiled. Nothing taken. Rob could hear Bruce give a little grunt from behind him and he wondered if he had finally lost his smile. He didn't turn to find out. Well, you're in Hammond right on the outskirts, Evelyn started. You just have to continue down the road here and you'll end up on the main street. The highway takes you straight through town. The Doc's office is on the main street on the other side. You can't really miss it as there's a large sign that says, Doctor's Office on it. The stranger started walking towards the door and Evelyn watched him, her gaze intense. Don't mix well with rednecks, she huffed.  She glared at Rob and he could feel the ice shards she was sending his way.  Rob felt goosebumps on his skin and he knew better than to respond. One thing about living in the smaller towns was that some of the people, not all but some, were not as tolerant as they had been back in Chicago. He had learned not to argue but to just let them rant or else a new tirade would just emerge and he was not in the mood to hear it. Instead, he turned back towards the door. He couldn't help it. Now he was curious as to what was going on. He wondered just what the doctor had called in about. Sure, it wasn't his jurisdiction or his concern but he couldn't help but find himself wanting to know. Jason opened the door and stood out of the way, holding it so that Tina could go in first. She did so slowly and he quickly lost her to the darkness of the bar. He had only been outside for a minute but it was hard for him to see his eyes not yet adjusted back to the dim lighting. His mother never liked to have most of the lights in the bar on. She always felt that too bright of a bar was something that would turn most of her patrons away and would cost the bar its character. Her customers always seemed to agree though he never understood why. Jason would rather have had the lights on so he could see but he suffered. It wasn't his name on the sign outside and he would do whatever his mom wanted while hers was. He only worked there maybe one weekend every couple of months. His eyes finally adjusted and he moved behind the bar. Mr. Jones was still sitting there at the end stool and unfortunately for Jason the guy he had been talking to earlier had left so now Jason was left to entertain the old man. He sure wished Sullivan would answer his damn phone. He had tried calling him as patented six times in a row to no avail.  Well almost. At least Tina was here now. Maybe she could take care of the old coot so Jason could get away from him. Sure there was the damn redneck at the other end of the bar playing the eights which Jason had to get back to but at least he wasn't continuous. The guy would play a couple at a time, lose more of his money, tell Jason to put it all away just to repeat the cycle again five minutes later. Jason looked down at the redneck who sat at the other end of the bar. He had his glass at the edge and Jason could see that it was empty. He started to walk to him knowing that an empty glass had best not be empty for too long in the bar business or the customer would go somewhere else that wouldn't let the glass stay empty. Or so that was how his mother had always told him to run the bar. Keep the beer coming and if it looked the person might be close to being done but is a little slow on saying no, fill the glass quickly to get them back in the seat. Someone who stays longer spends more money. It was bar economics.  And just what type of person comes into a bar and starts drinking beer that early in the day? It wasn't even noon yet. He wished that it surprised him more but he had grown up used to seeing how early people came into the bar. It wasn't so much as to what people felt was too early. It just mattered how early the bar was open. He had seen farmers come in at six in the morning and order their first round. It was all on when the bar opened. Then there were the third shifters who when six in the morning rolled around were therefore after work happy hour. He felt a tug on his arm and turned to see that Tina was grabbing him. When he saw her in the parking lot he thought that she didn't look right however. He had just written the thought off as not being able to see too well in the blinding sunlight. Now he could see that her cheeks were puffy and red and her eyes looked wet. She had been crying.  Is Lucy okay? He asked. He was suddenly growing concerned as he now noticed just how upset she was. Sure he wasn't the best at noticing women when they were upset. Just ask the five or six previous girlfriends who had all gotten frustrated with him for not caring about their needs or so they said. He was known as Mr. Obvious as he often missed these little signs. The ones like his aunt crying. He noticed it now though it was hard not to. Even Mr. Jones had shut up at the end of the bar and it started watching her curiously. She nodded but was biting her lip and what he guessed was her attempt to hold back another rush of tears that were threatening. Jason frowned at her. Just what was going on that had her so upset? He looked back at the other end of the bar. The redneck was trying to act like he wasn't paying attention or that he wasn't upset that his beer wasn't full yet but Jason could see the man's jaw muscles were tight. He was getting impatient. Jason turned to Tina and motioned at the little hallway that led back into the kitchen. I'll be back there in just a minute. He said. He kept his voice soft and tried to put on a soothing mask. He hoped it worked. She nodded her understanding and lowered her head to watch the ground as she walked away. He wasn't used to seeing his aunt like that. He knew his mom had. He had heard them sometimes in the kitchen with Tina crying and his mom trying to comfort her. However, she had always been able to hide it whenever he or his sister were around.  Jason went back to the redneck and grabbed the glass, starting to fill it with the tapped keg that was nearly in front of the man. Jason didn't even look up at him. He just watched as the gold-colored liquid filled the glass. He worked it like a true craftsman, keeping it tilted as the glass filled and rotating it just right to keep just a little head on the beer. Just because he hated tending bar didn't mean he wasn't good at it.  The man just nodded to him and Jason put it in the register before heading towards the hallway. Need anything? Jason called down to Mr. Jones. The man just shook his head and Jason continued to the back. He hadn't even entered the kitchen before she had her arms around him and her head buried into his chest. Jason was caught by surprise and had his arms outstretched wide as he tried to comprehend what was going on. He could hear her crying. Her tears were flowing heavily and she was sniffling. Great, he could already feel his college t-shirt getting moist from her tears and snot. He finally let his hands hold her, not trying to caress her. That would be just weird, but to try and comfort her and get her calmed down.  What happened? He asked her. He tried to keep his voice soft and soothing, not just to calm her, but he also didn't want anyone out front to hear them. He was sure that whatever Tina had to say, it would be best kept private. They didn't need any more gossip going around town that already suffered from far too much of it. I killed him. I think I killed him. I'm pretty sure I killed him. He didn't know how it was possible, but when she spoke, it seemed like the words were on top of each other. He knew she was saying something about killing somebody, who, he wasn't sure, did she get into a hit-and-run? Were the cops on their way to drag her off to jail? I'm not sure. I think I did. He pushed her away so that he could look into her blue eyes. They were dark, and tears continued to stream out the sides. She tried to wipe them away, but more seemed to appear just as fast as she could reach her hands up. Who? Did you get into an accident? He asked. She sniffed and wiped at her nose. He reached over to a napkin that was sitting on one of the counters and handed it to her. She used it and wiped her face. No. Vince, she said. Who's Vince? She looked up at him in surprise. Obviously, he thought this was supposed to be a name he should recognize, but he could have sworn it was the first time he had ever heard it before. Then again, as he often, he wasn't good for paying attention to other people and would often ignore people's names. He was terrible about it. My ex-boyfriend, she said, is she backed away? Okay. The memory tried to come back to him. Hadn't his mom told him something about him? He wasn't sure he had ever caught the guy's name, but he was pretty sure he had. It's okay. I highly doubt that you killed him. You probably just knocked him out. Jason wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say. Honestly, he wasn't sure what would be the right thing either. He had no idea what he should be saying or asking. Should he call his mother? See what she said? He doubted that would do much good. He wasn't even sure if he could get ahold of her.  She probably didn't even have her cell phone on. Even if she did, she was probably somewhere where there was no service. Okay, that wasn't true, and he knew it. Without paranoid as mom was about her bar, he knew her cell phone was right next to her and it was on. As to whether she had cell coverage or not, he was guessing she did. Otherwise, he probably would have gotten a call from her every hour just to check in and make sure the bar hadn't burned down. Not that she didn't trust Jason with it, but the bar had become her life. She was highly overprotective of it. But she was also there to be having fun. If he called her, he would not only be ruining her vacation, but he would also be ruining that trust she had put in him. She would never take another vacation. She was never able to get away from her problems or her sister's drama. Did he really want to have her all upset when there was nothing she could do anyway? He knew it would tear her apart, and what purpose would that serve? She could give you advice, he thought, and that was true, but he wasn't sure he needed her advice. Not yet, at least. Maybe he could figure this out on his own. That way, he wouldn't have to upset her, and she could enjoy the rest of her vacation. She deserved it. Being the housekeeper for pretty much all the problems in the whole family, she needed it. So he could do this. He could do this. Still, inside him, he felt the pull, that yearning, to call her. He wanted to tell her all about it, and even if all she said was that it would be okay, he wanted that reassurance. He wanted her to tell him that everything would be just fine, that protectiveness that she had for him, that caring, that always being there for him. He wanted to just hear her voice and have her say those words. He wasn't going to call her, but he realized that was exactly what he needed to give to Tina. He had to give her those blanket words to comfort her and to relax her. It was up to him. He had to be the one to comfort her. It's all going to be okay. Just tell me the details.  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 17 Hammond and its closest neighbor, Rosewood, have had a long existing rivalry that has stretched back generations. It was not like many of the southern hillbilly rivalries that oftentimes had to do with moonshine or some cousin sneaking into someone's bed late at night back in the days of prohibition. Now, this was a simple rivalry, one that started so long ago that there might be a couple of old timers somewhere around town that may remember how it started. However, even those old folks might not remember much. But the town knew that it was from long ago and now was more a general dislike for each other rather than a hatred. A simple way to describe it was like how any self-respecting Chicago Bears fan learned long ago that nothing good came out of Green Bay. There was no reason for the hate, but it was just known that you just couldn't trust a fudgepacker. Yeah, it was like that. And just like many rivalries, this one had more to do with the local sports teams than anything else. While many couldn't remember how the rivalry had started, everyone in town remembered the latest fiasco. Many were still angered with how those vicious devils from Rosewood Elementary had shamed everyone before last year's basketball final. That just could not stand. What was that they had screamed? Hell, with how the old timers had screamed when last year's game had been cancelled, outsiders would have thought there was murder in the streets. It was scandalous.  It was them crooks. All over the final end of the year elementary basketball game. The game that had been cancelled because all the tires had been slashed on the Hammond school bus. Yes, Rosewood was only 20 miles away. And yes, everyone could have driven over there. There were even other buses that were in reserve that could have been fueled up and taken. Well, there were two other buses that Hammond used, but one was down due to someone putting regular fuel instead of diesel into the tank. The third was running, but had been heavily tagged with graffiti, and it had been obvious that it was more of Rosewood's treachery. Who else would have covered the bus in eggs and chalked Hammond's socks up and down the exterior? Yes, that bus still ran, but the principal, who had to make the final call, had said that it would be a cold day in hell before she allowed her team to show up in a bus that said they all sucked. So the game had been cancelled. The entire town of Hammond felt that the game should have gone to them and should have been considered a win. It wasn't their good respectable kids that defaced the property, why should they have to suffer? The county school board, of course, did not see things that way. Since Hammond had a working bus and had chosen not to attend the game, it was considered a forfeit against them. This allowed Rosewood to continue on and go to state finals. Rosewood lost in the first round, but that didn't matter. They had cheated. And the good, God-fearing people of Hammond, however, never mentioned to these God-fearing people that they have a 2-1 ratio of bars to churches and that the average age of the everyday churchgoer in town was in their 50s, had set a petition to the school board asking that the game be rescheduled. The school board eventually gave in, but it had not been a short-lived fight. By then school was out for summer, so the game was scheduled during summer break. So the Hammond hogs would be squaring off against the Rosewood daggers. Now, since last time, when it was supposed to be in Rosewood's gym, the scoundrels had desecrated Hammond's equipment. This time the game was there in Hammond. Nancy felt almost like she was a little kid, not because she felt great and alive, because she didn't. No, it was because she just couldn't keep herself still as she sat there on the hard wooden seats of the bleachers. She couldn't help herself as she continued to wiggle around.  Every couple of seconds, the phantom feeling of something moving through the hairs on her arm would tickle and she would look, ready to smack away whatever she could find, just to find that there was nothing there. She felt them everywhere.  She had even sneezed a few times when she had felt a little tickle on the inside of her nose. She didn't know what was going on. She was constantly scratching. There were spots on her arms that were becoming very red and agitated, because she just couldn't leave them alone. She thought maybe it was dry skin and that the weather change had caused some type of irritation, but she had never before felt dry skin flare up this badly. She didn't even know if she could make it until she got home to put on some lotion. It just felt like bugs were attacking her from everywhere. Damn, she hoped it wasn't lice. Had the school had an infestation recently? No, couldn't have been. It was the summer. The school was closed other than the West Wing, the only wing of the school with air conditioners that was open for the few students doing summer school. Maybe one of those kids could have started an infestation, but would it have spread all the way to the gym on a Saturday? She had never had lice, but always knew that they were small bugs, and once they started to spread around a school, it could mean a lot of trouble. Around her, the crowd ignited just before the loud buzzer. She looked up to see that it was the end of the second quarter, and one of her son's friends had scored a three-point shot from the line right before the buzzer had gone off. Well, that was good. At least her son's team was winning. It wasn't like she was getting a chance to really enjoy the game, though. She felt that phantom feeling again. This time just outside her right ear. She reached up to swat at it. Sure, it was a fly, but nothing was there. She looked around her, wondering if anyone else had noticed that she was constantly twitching. Sure, she was Vice President of the PTO and helped out on the school's organizing committee, but she knew that her accomplishments alone wouldn't keep the rumors from going around if she looked like she was on drugs. Truth be told, she had been on the little white pills for most of her life. What was wrong with something to keep her going? How else was she supposed to be a mom nowadays? She had to work a full-time job, raise two kids, be a part of the PTO, help with cub scouts, help with girl scouts, and why?  So she took her little pills and kept moving, keeping up with all the life that happened around her. And Jim did try to help as much as he could. Even though, to pay to keep up with the Joneses and have their nice house, he had to work two jobs just so that they could keep food on the table and drive nice cars around to all these events she had to go to. No rest for the righteous, right? Or was it supposed to be no rest for the wicked? No, that didn't seem right. As far as she could see, the wicked were the ones who got to rest all the damn time. She never understood how they could cut it, being lazy, resting all the time. Who was she thinking of? Mr. and Mrs. Lorraine Feldson. That's who. Lorraine, who was the one in charge of the PTO, though Nancy had to do everything. Lorraine, who was in charge of the cake bake, only to run out and buy cakes from the local grocery store. Lorraine, who was in charge of putting together the sock hop, just to not even show up and had Nancy do all the last minute preparations, which actually turned out to be nearly all of the preparations as Lorraine had only reserved the gym. Lorraine Feldson, the wicked, how they rested and rode the heels of the righteous and weary. Nancy looked over at Lorraine, trying not to let the blood rush to her face. She was only sitting a couple seats in front of Nancy, watching as her son, the All-Star, as Lorraine called him, was rushing down the court, effortlessly dribbling the ball. However, Lorraine wasn't watching him, and she wasn't sitting there smiling and sitting upright like she normally did. No, she was wriggling in her seat as well. Nancy looked around and noticed that many of the people sitting around her were twitching in their seats, swatting at their arms or legs. Everyone was doing it. Tom, whose son just missed a layup, didn't notice as he was busy running his arms along his legs, squeezing his pants as though he was trying to find something under the fabric. Cynthia, whose son was preparing to throw in a pass, had her arm up the sleeve of her blouse and was scratching vigorously. Everyone around her was acting as though they had been touched by itching powder. And maybe they had. Maybe that had been what was going on. It wouldn't have been the first time for an opposing team to pull a prank. Sure, it wasn't common in fifth grade basketball, but she could see some overzealous parent doing it for a laugh. Nancy noticed Lucy. She knew that Lucy had a crush on her son, and had probably come to the basketball game just to flirt with him. Not that kids didn't like to come back to school on a Saturday to watch a sports game, girls especially, but Lucy was one of the only students that was there without a parent. But that wasn't what caught Nancy's attention. Lucy was also twitching, but she had more purpose to her actions. When Nancy swatted away one of the phantoms, there was always nothing there, and she would look around for a brief second to see if anyone noticed her. When Lucy looked around, Nancy could see that she was afraid, like she could see what she was swatting away, and it frightened her. She looked up at Nancy, her eyes large, her lower lip showing a little blood when she had bitten it trying not to scream. She looked terrified. Then Lucy looked at Nancy's arm. Nancy looked down. She didn't expect to see anything. She had started to get used to the feeling of the phantoms. She was shocked when she saw the spider that was quickly running up her arm, sending the little nerves on her skin ablaze with emotion. Its little legs danced across her skin. She quickly swatted it away, and looked down to see a couple more spiders had emerged on her bench. Where had they all come from? Chapter 18. The woman, Amanda Clarks, had watched smugly as the young man had been walking up the middle aisle and was on his way to meet her.  She hadn't come there to be insulted, and she did not think that it was too much to ask for him to pay her some attention when she had questions. It was his job to make her happy, and all he had done was stand there and purposely make her feel as though she was unimportant, that he couldn't even pay attention to her.  She was there as a customer, which made her right. His job was to be there to take care of her, and to make sure she left the store happy. Yes, so little of today's retail stores even tried to help people anymore.  That's what happens when you start getting those people in the White House. It all came from that. It could always be traced back to who you had to represent you at the upper levels. Like, look at their store manager. Sure, he was nice and he was trying to help her now, but just look at him. He was easily 300 pounds. He was more than just a little overweight. A man was fat. He should hit the gym. She was always somewhere, doing some kind of local charity work, but she still hit the gym five times a week and jogged every morning. It all comes from who your leaders are. With a good leader, people tend to follow in their footsteps.  They all seemed to be on drugs. Legalize this, and legalize that. Maybe that had been the kid's problem. Maybe he was on drugs, and maybe he needed help, but either way, she should not get treated that way. It was his job to make her happy and to treat her right. It was his job to answer her questions. They sold the stuff the people that worked here should know something about what they were selling. If not, then get rid of them and hire a staff that did know what they sold.  Have them be professional, and know a thing or two. It just made for good customer service. She was glad that the manager, Tom or Tim, or whatever his name had been, was at least willing to try to get to the bottom of it. He had tried to speak kindly of the young man, saying that he usually wasn't that way and that he would be the one who knew about the file cabinets. He would get to the bottom of it, and if the younger one couldn't help her out, he would do his damnedest to do so. The man may have been rolls of fat, but at least he knew how to be professional. At least he was trying to make her happy. The young man was certainly not. Tim or Tom was at the service counter. He had his back to the young man as he was coming up the center aisle, but Amanda was watching him. He was taking his time. He was walking as slow as he could, which she wasn't too surprised to see. Just like many young men, when they knew they were in trouble, they would walk slowly to face it, but he wasn't walking like he was doing a walk of shame.  She could see a burning hatred there in his dark eyes, and she swore that she saw a faint tip of a smile at the corner of his lips. The boy looked too proud and smug to be walking up to get a ton lashing, and there was something else. She couldn't place it at first, but she just knew that something was different. He was acting wrong. No, it wasn't just him. There was something in the way that he walked that was just not right. She couldn't place it. There was just something off. Had his skin somehow gotten paler? And were those gashes on his arms? They couldn't be. They weren't bleeding, but they looked deep, and she didn't remember them there earlier. His eyes seemed sunken, and his lips had less color to them. Of course, the manager wasn't seeing any of this. While he had been so polite in dealing with her, he was already on the phone, talking to what sounded like another infuriated customer. This one seemed to be having some issue with their computer she had bought, and didn't seem to understand why she couldn't just return it. Amanda didn't quite understand why they didn't take it back either. It seemed perfectly logical to her, but she was staying out of the discussion. The boy rounded the last display and came to a stop just behind the portly manager. He didn't pay him any attention at first, and the young man just stood there. She kept looking at him. She had been smiling smugly, but as she watched him or smile faded. His lips didn't so much look pale as they actually looked like they had started to turn blue, and had grown chapped. That wasn't even possible, not in the 15 minutes when she had seen him last. Was it a trick? Had he been in the back putting on some kind of stage makeup? He stood there, tense. His hands kept reaching around towards his back, and then they would twitch and come resting back to his side. He stood there swaying back and forth, as though standing in one place was something that took a tremendous amount of strength. Then the manager slammed down the phone behind the service desk, and as though he had known that Billy was already behind him, he had turned already talking to the young man. Billy, this woman here says that you had been very rude to her and were... the man stopped and looked at Billy.  He never got the chance to finish. Tim, or maybe his name was Tom, never even put his hands up in defense, and at first it seemed like the young man was just in the process of falling forward into him. Then Billy's hands came up grabbing for the manager. However, it wasn't like he was trying to keep from falling. No, he had reached out and grabbed to pull the man to him, and when he had the manager in his grasp, he pulled him so that he was biting into the man's throat. He was too shocked to move. The world around them seemed strange as it continued to go on as normal for the first few seconds and Amanda watched as Billy bit into the man's throat, tearing away the flesh. Blood sprayed up. It flowed strong, the heart beating a rhythm that made it spurt out in a fountain. Then the world rose up to meet Amanda, her feet deciding they didn't want to keep her upright and she landed hard, looking up at Billy. She watched him as he went forward again, biting deeper into the man's flesh, ripping more of it away around his throat, and was he really eating it? She didn't know. As the rain of blood enveloped her, her world went red until it all darkened to black and she fainted. Blood, fresh. New sensations danced along and around in the fleeing and worrying of motion. When their host had found new flesh and they had reached out for it, they had been starving. Their current host had become stale and they had him nearly picked clean. His usable inner substances had nearly all been devoured and he had become fully theirs. Then they had come upon the new host and they had reached out moving in to move much of their brethren over. They had all been starving and had all hoped to move over, but there was too many of them. Many would have to stay to starve or find a new host. They knew that most would starve.  Then they had reached forward and had bitten into the new host. Their world changed. New flesh and blood had flooded into their host's mouth as their brethren fought through the stream to move to the new host. Many were washed back against the flood, but many others found their way into their new home. They had great numbers. There were always many to move back and forth. However, those who stayed were surprised. New food was flooding in. It wasn't from their current host, but they realized that their current host could get more food from new hosts. The sensations were wild as they devoured away at the new flesh and Billy continued to tear away and eat at the large man's flesh. Sure, they might be hurting the new host for their brethren, but they were hungry and now they had food. You're listening to the full-length audiobook Hatched! Invisible Spiders Vol. 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 19. Brian knew that he had probably said too much to the group at dinner, knew at the second they started asking more questions, and then that officer had seen his security pass.  He hadn't even gone into the office. Was he that programmed that he clipped it to his belt without even noticing it? Label that reason number 56 as to why he was not working in the field. He was a lab tech, stuck behind microscopes and test tubes all day. He hated people. People asked questions. People got sick and died while you worked on cures that never came. He was not a people person. He was a microbe person. They never talked back or asked questions. They only answered them. He had to admit that he was damn good at his job.  Damn, she could always get him to do things he didn't want to do. All she had to do was say, come on little bry, and he was there around her finger. Ever since they were kids, she would watch over him. She never had to worry about him being naughty, as all she would have to do is say it and he followed on command. Not that it surprised him either. He was the nerd. He was the bookworm before he was even born. His father had once joked at Brian's 11th birthday party that he had come out of his mother's womb carrying a copy of a farewell to arms. Brian had been freaked out by the title and his dad had to tell him that it wasn't about him losing his arms. The only reason why his dad had chosen that book was because it had been one of his favorites. He had been telling the story to Brian's uncle because the man had seemed to not understand why Brian hadn't been excited about the gift of the shiny new Chicago Bulls emblem basketball. They're the champions, his uncle had explained when he had seen Brian's confused look and deepened brow. Thankfully, Brian had the good manners to not say what he had been thinking.  Then he eagerly went on to his next gift and had enjoyed the smooth hardness of a fresh hardcover book. It had been The Hardy Boys, one of the classic editions, not one of the paperbacks he had been saving up and buying himself, but one of the older, traditional ones. His dad had given him all of his old collection. He had saved them and they were now Brian's. Then his older sister had gotten involved. She had grabbed the basketball off of the table and had rushed to the door with it.  She had yelled out to him. It's time to play some basketball. He just wanted to read the books. Why couldn't she leave him alone to read the books? But just like all the other times, he found himself chasing after her. And now he was stuck chasing after her again, this time to her wedding. Sure, he should be happy for her. She found someone, someone other than a test tube, which he still claimed would always be his soulmate. She found someone who was real, and Brian hoped someone who would take care of her. He had better, or Brian would inject him with smallpox and launch him down a well. Brian pulled his car into the small parking lot that was just below the fiberglass sign that read, Doctor's Office. The building just beyond the parking lot was a drab little building that looked like it tried to mimic a log cabin. It was not what he would have expected, nor desired for this to be anything credible. He hadn't been kidding when he had told the locals at the diner that they got thousands of crank calls a day. Most times they were discredited right over the phone. Interns were given a series of questions to ask, and most times nothing more was needed. The interns were instructed to have the doctors rush a sample over to their offices so they could test it. And they did test the samples when they came in. Some would even be rushed through, depending on the answers that had been given over the phone. The interns were not reliable as to what might actually be something the CDC needed to get involved with because they were often young kids who were swayed by the emotions of whomever had called. Cold, hard data, the questions and answers were always what led to prioritized results. Many times those who called were small doctor's offices like the one he was at now, where a young new doctor thought that a little bump on someone's arm mixed with the flu was some new strain of swine flu. Little things and new doctors clogged much of the phone lines. But then there were the ones who did report something curious. The samples would be rushed, and they would take the time to look it over. These samples would be hurried through, an intern breaking them down and then bringing them to him. He would look them over, and they would see if there was any further need to study. If they needed to send someone out into the field, they had specially trained people for it who were better with locals than Brian was. That was for damn sure. He detested people, so how could he ever get them to warm up to him? This wasn't going to go much better. He could tell that already. This was a mistake. It may even have been a practical joke. He had no idea why Christian had felt the need to call him and ask him to check it out. While it was highly uncommon, it wasn't unheard of that they would somehow get pranked. Usually it was caught by the fact that the phone call wouldn't be coming in from a doctor's office or that there would be red flags pointing towards it. Well, there were red flags on this case, and they ranged from the absurd to the severe. His boss had been concerned enough to talk him into it. Not that he fought too hard to get out of the groom's bachelor party that would be starting later today, but he had put up the show of a fight. Somehow this doctor had known Brian's boss, and Chris had felt that he was a level-headed guy, enough to be concerned by the doctor's phone call. Still, Brian should have pushed for them to at least have a field-op here, someone who could talk down to these hicks. Look at this place.  What kind of doctor puts his practice in what looked like a log cabin?  This wasn't a doctor's office. It looked more like a fishing lodge. Brian opened his door, not caring that he had parked across three spaces. There wasn't another car in the lot, but he wouldn't have cared if there had been. He had parked directly in front of the door, even taking the handicap spot and the wheelchair ramp. He figured in and out, and he'd be gone. He stepped out and listened to the crunch of gravel under his polished shoes. Didn't these people believe in paving the whole parking lot, he muttered to himself? He moved across the lot, not enjoying the crunch beneath his feet. The sound of the gravel in the early morning reminded him of eating shrimp. He figured it must have had something to do with the rocks and the sound that made him think of breaking open the shell to get the meat inside. Shrimp and lobster. He could really go for that right then. Sure, it was a little early in the day, but it would make a nice brunch. He doubted there would be anything good in that crap hole of a town his sister was choosing to live in, but maybe, if he drove the rest of the way to Chicago, he could find a decent place. Was he really thinking of driving all that way just for a decent lobster?  Somewhere inside him, he knew he was just trying to put off going to or even thinking about his sister's wedding. People. Damn how he hated dealing with and being around people. How did he let himself get roped into this? He felt the pang of revulsion and tried to wave it off. People. He'd have to deal with them here as well. Why couldn't he just go back to his lab? He quickly moved to the front door. He didn't know what to expect. If they were open or not, he didn't see any cars in the lot. The place looked empty. The windows dark and the silence seemed to be a part of the building, as though it was a warning away from him. He made it to the front door, and after taking a quick glance at the side front picture windows, reached out to pull open the door. It stayed solid in its frame, as if there weren't hinges that allowed it to open. It was sturdy, well crafted, and elegant, which caused him to take another look at the front of the building. He could see that it was actually a lot nicer than he originally thought. The wood was finely carved, and the frame was solid and held the door firmly. It led off into what could be taken for a log cabinet for his glance. He had thought it had been some kind of cheap imitation to cover an inner aluminum siding or some other material. He wasn't knowledgeable about construction, but he had seen enough bad neighborhoods here and there to know that there were many tacky ways of trying to make something look better than it was. This was no imitation. It was all solid, and it wasn't a small handcrafted cabin. This was a nice building with excellent craftsmanship. It was cozy, and while he had a hard time believing any doctor would set up an office in such a building, he could see the appeal. At the same time, it didn't really match the tone of the buildings that were around it. The building just past the bushes to the right was an aluminum sided construction garage with large machinery cluttered around the yard outside. He stepped backwards down the front stairs and looked around the edges. The bushes were right up to the right side, so even if he wanted to go that way he couldn't. He would have to follow the wrap around driveway to the back. He went back to his car and popped the trunk. Time to get to work and take this seriously, he thought. He didn't have much with him, and the stuff he did have, he actually purchased from a Walgreens on his way here. He knew that the little face mask that you held on by an elastic string and came up to just below his eyes really wasn't going to be much protection, but he knew that it was at least better than not having anything at all. He put on the tight gloves, feeling the chalk-like texture of the powder inside, and enjoying the comfort in them. At least those felt more like what he was used to. They had the right feel, and if he closed his eyes he could almost fool himself into thinking that he was back in the lab. Maybe now he could start taking this threat seriously and not acting like he was all going to be nothing.  He lowered the hood, listening to the hiss as the hydraulics in the truck hood kept it from coming down too hard or too fast. There was a dog barking somewhere in the distance, some kids laughing. He even watched as a pair of them rode by on their bikes racing each other.  They were already past him when he heard the other, the one already behind the smaller boy on the bigger bike. Now you won't. Then they were gone. He could see a few cars here and there, but the town itself wasn't that busy. It had that feeling as though it was dying, fading away into a lost existence. What did the waitress said? He thought he heard her make a comment to one of the guys, something about the factory laying everyone off. The cookie factory was still going, she had said, but the glass place, the place that had been the lifeblood for much of the town, was shut down. Yeah, but the cookies were still being made. He didn't know how far away the cookie factory was, but he could smell that sweet smell as it hung upon the air. It was a gentle aroma that touched the tip of his nose. Damn, he hoped that this was all just a mistake and could report that nothing was going on here. Hopefully the doctor is just ignorant and this was a fool's errand and not a hoax on the taxpayer's dime. Maybe then all of this could just be written off and all would be forgotten.  She had to fight just to keep it upright. Her neck was stiff and she just wanted to let her head fall forward and hang there. Her eyes felt hollow and she wanted to close them, losing herself to sleep. Sleep. Just a thought of it felt like it was what she needed. She just wanted to lie down. Even the hardwood of the gym floor beneath the bleachers seemed like it would be comforting. She just wanted to lie down and rest, but she couldn't. She didn't know what, but something wasn't letting her. Some force kept her head up no matter how much she wanted to let it fall. Maybe it was her trying to fight her cold. She had lied to Tina about feeling better. She had really wanted to come to the game and see Bobby. She wanted to talk to him afterward and maybe hang out with him later. She had fought so that she didn't seem too sick. She had even tried to convince herself that she was feeling better. Some part of her wanted to continue to keep from admitting it was there. She wasn't sick. She could stay and wait until the end of the game, she kept thinking. It wasn't like she was watching the game. She had tried to watch as the boys ran up and down the court dribbling the ball. She had been trying to watch that guy she liked. What was his name again? She didn't know why, but she just couldn't seem to remember it. It didn't seem like it was so important anymore. Not just one boy. Oh no, not just one. Some part of her now wanted all of them. She wanted all of the boys. For what she wasn't sure, but she wanted to get up and move closer to all of them. To spread. That was what the voice said. The whisper that tickled at the back of her mind. She didn't know what that meant. She was tired. She just wanted to sleep. The voice wouldn't let her. It kept her there. Then she had watched as the first spider had come out from under her skirt. She had been afraid and had wanted to kill it. Her arms had fought against her and she was just too tired. Instead, she had watched it as it had skittered under the bleachers, crawling down the black metal railings. The spider was nearly camouflaged against it, but then it had touched the hardwood floor and it disappeared into the shadows. She had just looked up from it when she watched two more emerge from just under her sleeve. They crawled down her arms. One continued down while the other had disappeared into the shorts of the little boy who was sitting next to her. He never noticed as it disappeared. He didn't even seem to feel it. He just kept watching the game. There had been a slight shake when the spider had first touched him, but with a quick glimpse at his shorts, he dismissed it and looked back to the game. More spiders appeared. Some came out from underneath her sleeve. Others seemed to come out from under her skin. They just appeared there. First as goose flesh and then the black spot would form and the spider would emerge. She watched as they all joined together and then continued to climb down into the darkness beneath the bleachers. She quickly looked over from her left sleeve to her right and the same thing was happening on her other side. A slight whimper escaped her lips, but it was lost in the roar of the crowd. Someone from the home team must have just stolen the ball as the crowd around her was screaming in joyous excitement. She wanted to scream with them, but all that escaped was that whimper. Instead, she felt her throat clamp shut and she could barely breathe. Something was suffocating her. She could feel it. She lurched forward, trying to gag, trying to cough it out, tears streaming from her eyes as she wanted to just cry it all away, but none of it was going away. She felt something slam against her back and the black mass of spiders that had been clogging her throat launched down into the bleachers. Air flooded back into her lungs and she looked up to see the older gentleman sitting next to her had seen her suffocating and had slapped her back to help her out. He was watching her, his arm still on her back as he looked at her with a show of genuine concern. She tried to smile a thank you at him, but as he looked down at her she saw a spider climb up his arm and disappear beneath his skin. She watched in horror as the bump traveled under his skin and disappeared into the darkness beneath his sleeve. He looked to where she had been staring but not seeing anything, looked back to her, his frown deepening. Are you okay miss? Is your mother here? Can I go get her for you? He asked her. Lucy shook her head. Of course her mother wasn't there. Her mother was hundreds of miles away and all she had here was her no nothing aunt. If her mother was there Lucy never would have been able to con her into letting her go to the game. Her mother would have made sure that Lucy saw the doctor and would have known that something serious was wrong. Lucy realized that the man was still looking at her and started to shake her head. No I'm fine thank you. She finally said. Her voice was coarse and came out gurgled. The man didn't seem convinced but he backed away still looking at her cautiously. Well if you need anything just ask. He said. She knew she should be concerned that he may be some pervert but she doubted it. It was a small town. People like that didn't exist here. Not only that she thought she recognized him. She thought but wasn't sure that he was Danny's grandfather. Danny was another one of the boys on the team and was good friends with Bobby. She wasn't completely sure but sure enough that she wasn't afraid of him. Bobby that was his name. She had come to see Bobby. She tried to be excited that she remembered his name. She couldn't believe she had forgotten it. How could she have forgotten his name? Bobby. She eased herself back into the game. She hadn't been paying much attention to it and hadn't realized that their school was up by 10 points. That was awesome. Bobby was going to be so happy after the game. Did she still want to try and see him? She wasn't sure anymore. She still didn't feel all that good. She didn't want to take the chance and get him sick too. It might be better if she didn't see him. Her mind came back to the spiders and she watched three more. She didn't even know where they had come from. Disappear beneath the bleachers. Another one emerged from beneath her skirt and she could feel her throat beginning to tighten again. The world around her felt like it was getting smaller or she was getting bigger. Nothing felt right. The people around her felt like they were getting closer. She felt like they were almost on top of her, nearly inside of her. She had to get out of there. She suddenly felt like she needed to get away from all of them. More spiders were scurrying down her arms. They were all over the place. They were swarming her. She wasn't sure if she felt that way about the people or the spiders but they all seemed to be all over her. She lifted up her hand and another wave of spiders rushed out from under it. They ran to the people along the bench. She let out a little whimper and only the little boy turned to look at her. He seemed to be scared of her. Was she that scary? He made her feel like she was and he started to scoot closer to his mom sitting on the other side of him. Lucy didn't blame him. She stood. She needed to get out of there. She wanted to cry, to run away. Something was wrong. She wanted out of there. She wanted to be back with her own mommy. She wanted to be with her own mom. Another spider crawled down her leg. Where were they all coming from? It looked like they were coming from her. Spread. She heard a voice inside of her say. She didn't want to spread. She didn't want anyone to catch whatever she had. She just wanted to stay away from everyone. They were all around her. They were crowding her. She wanted away from there. Stay. Spread. She hoped that it was tears that she felt on her cheeks. She felt the streaks. She hoped that tears were streaming down, not spiders. Why couldn't anyone else see them? Why wasn't anyone else freaking out? Lucy started to make her way down the aisle. She saw spiders shaking free from her clothing as she hurried. Her tears streamed heavier. She needed to get out of there. People cleared the way for her. They all looked startled at the crying girl, hurrying by them. Did they finally see the spiders? If so, they never reacted to them. Spiders fell on the people as much as they fell to the bleachers, but no one seemed to react. Lucy finally made it to the end of the row and started to hurry down the steps. She was near the door of the gym when the buzzer sounded and the gym erupted into cheering. She knew it was too early for the game to be over, but she guessed that another period had ended. She didn't look back to see the action. She just wanted to lie down, to sleep. She just wanted to get home. Denise watched as the man approached from around the side of the doctor's office, suspicious of why anyone would be sneaking around out there. She especially didn't like that she didn't know him. She knew near everyone from the area, and while she knew that she wouldn't remember all of them on the street, she did know that she had never seen this man before. A tall black man stood out in this town. Okay, to say that he stood out was an understatement. It wasn't just the race card, though it was true that Hammond had very few black people that lived in town. In fact, she couldn't think of too many colors that lived in any of the surrounding towns either. This had much more to do with how the man carried himself. It was obvious that he wasn't from anywhere near here. It didn't take much more than just a quick look at his shoes and how he walked in them. Sure, she knew many of the lawyers in town would wear fancy shoes and suits, but none of them as nice and as fancy as the leather loafers this man wore. Plus, this man was sweating through his thick white shirt, and was obviously supposed to have a suit jacket on as well. This man was meant for air conditioning and not to be outside in the blazing Midwestern summer heat. She wondered who he was and why he was there. And why was he sleuthing around her husband's office? He didn't look sick, so he probably wasn't there for an exam. He wasn't local, so he didn't have an appointment. Besides, she had done, like her husband had asked, and had called all the patients that had appointments for the day. They were all upset, but she had canceled them all. If there was to be a walk-in, most times they would drive the 30 minutes to an hour and go to the hospital, so it wasn't likely to be that either. She didn't like it. She didn't like that she hasn't heard anything from her husband even more. It had been hours since he had told her to leave and to call everyone. Since then, she hadn't seen any sign of life. She had heard sounds earlier when she had walked around the side of the building, but she was afraid to look into it. Her husband, the man she had known and shared a bed with for the last 10 years of marriage, had never before looked as scared as he had been when he had told her to get out. She knew that he was trying to protect her. From what, she had no idea, but it had to be something bad. It must have been something highly contagious, and from the way he had hid from her must be something deadly. And how did that make her feel? She knew that she should feel sad, and that the tears should be streaming down her face. Her heart should have been broken. She should barely be able to stand from the agony of the knowledge that she would probably never see her husband again. Either that, or she should at least have some hope that he was just being overly cautious and that all of this was for nothing. Her husband was too good of a doctor for that, and she didn't really feel anything. She felt like there was a large stone where her heart had been. What should have been emotions was a vast nothingness. Her insides were cold, and what should have been heartache was only the pressure of a massive weight on her chest, making it hard for her to breathe. She felt like she was dead to the world. She held herself, fearing that if she did let go, the chill that was inside of her would make her shake into convulsions. That if she let go, the tears would finally come, but she didn't think she would ever be able to pull herself out of the helplessness that would envelop her. Hello? The man in the nice clothes said as he neared her front porch. Hello? Her voice was dry and flat. She didn't care that there was none of the friendliness that usually always filled her. What did she have left to be cheerful for? I'm looking for Dr. Wilson. Can you help me find him? You're too late. Too late? As he passed away? She could see the confused look on his face, or was that an expression of alarm? In the harsh sunlight that he was squinting through to look at her, it was hard to tell. No, but he closed up for the day. Really? He called my office this morning. It sounded pretty urgent. Do you know where I can find him? Who was it that he called that morning? He hadn't told her he was calling anyone. If he did, she guessed it was probably the Center for Disease Control, but she had never heard of them sending out someone so quick to an unproven case. Maybe her husband had called in a favor. He had that friend of his. God, she couldn't remember his name, but he worked for them, didn't he? If so, then this was getting as bad as she thought, or maybe even worse. What if she was also infected? She was glad she hadn't gone anywhere. CDC He looked momentarily shocked, and then he nodded. He's in there, she dotted in the direction of the office. What do you know about it already? He looked at her for a moment. She guessed he was trying to size her up to figure out what she knew about it and who she was. This wasn't her husband's friend, so she doubted he even knew what her husband looked like or how old he was, so he must have been trying to figure out who this woman was who was talking to him. Who are you? He finally asked. His wife. I run the office. Oh, so were you there this morning when he called? Yes, I locked up shop and cancelled all his appointments for the day. Well, we know very little about what's going on in there. I was hoping maybe you could tell me before I go in. She looked at him for a moment and then nodded towards the chair on her porch. I know you're probably in a hurry, but I'm tired and feel like sitting down. I don't know much, but I'll tell you what I can. Chapter 20 Brian didn't like this. He hadn't liked it from the beginning, but he had listened to his boss and had let him talk him into this. However, he was there, and now after hearing what the doctor's wife was telling him, he was sure he was the wrong man for the job. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. What were the protocols? How was he supposed to handle this? He had expected this to be a simple case of another doctor going overboard. He wasn't so sure anymore. Denise had told him what had happened earlier, and he didn't think the doctor sounded so much like a crackpot. There might actually be something going on in there. He remembered the noises he had heard walking around the building, and if it was like she had described, it may be much worse. It sounded like it was something highly communicable, and the doctor was afraid that he may have been infected. Most likely it was airborne. That would explain the doctor getting it so quick, and why Denise seemed to be fine. So how was he going to investigate this? He had no practical field experience.  The right call was for the team to come out. But what hard evidence did he have? What scientific evidence did he have to make his boss believe him? Had he seen anything or anyone? No, all he had was some noises he had heard as he had walked around the building, and this woman telling him a convincing story. All it took was for the team to come here and find nothing but some old timer, hell bent on playing elaborate hoax on him, and he would never hear the end of it. He may not even have a job anymore. He really was not equipped to handle it out here on his own. He should never have agreed to come. You going in? Denise asked. She was still sitting across from him. Being a doctor's wife, he expected that she would have been older, but she didn't look like she was much more than 40. It made him wonder just how much older the doctor was. I'm not sure. That was partially true. He had already made up his mind, but just didn't want to admit it to himself yet. He didn't want to acknowledge that he had already convinced himself that he had to go in. He was there. He was obligated to go in there and check it out. After all, it was probably nothing. Like he had thought, it would just be an old timer playing pranks. Some old geezer on his last leg who wanted to get a good hoot over on someone before he kicked the bucket. However, looking at the doctor's wife, he was probably not that old, so there was probably no joke involved. In fact, if the doctor was in his 40s, it would seriously hurt his career if he purposely called in a false report. But maybe he had gone overboard. There are certain diseases that can make a person appear near death. He once had the pleasure of conversing with a researcher that had once visited Haiti. There had been what had been thought of as a zombie outbreak back in the late 70s. Real people, people that had been buried by the local customs, were actually getting up and digging their way out of their own graves. While the researcher, a Dr. Jack Russell, if Brian could recall correctly, wasn't the one who figured out the cause and attracted down, he had done quite a bit of study on the phenomenon while he was down there. The Haitians were very protective though, and he loved to tell the story with a lot of dramatic effect. I barely made it out alive, or they had me tied down and then I was buried alive. The man was full of the horrific tale. The results though had been fascinating. Real life zombies, though not undead. Real life, brain dead, rising from the grave, zombies had actually attacked the good doctor. Of course they weren't real zombies. There was a powder used that made a person appear dead for a couple of days. The person would have no way of moving and would show no signs of life, however they were alive and would actually be conscious the whole time they were under the effects of the drug. It was referred to as zombie powder because it was a white chalky dust made from bones of the recently deceased and the victims were often brain dead and referred to as zombie-like. The brain dead state was thought to have been more the effects of the person having to dig their way out of their own grave and being deprived oxygen than from the effects of the powder. Is the back door unlocked? He said to her as he stood. He had made the decision. He was going to go in. He had to, otherwise his report would be incomplete. And it was strange that the doctor had not come out yet. There was something he needed to go in there and check out. He sure didn't want to do it. This was so not his kind of job. Yeah, just go in. She looked up at him and there was something in her eyes. Maybe it was a pained or worried look. He wasn't sure. He couldn't read people. Please, make sure he's okay. He hasn't even called my cell or the house phone. I'm just worried about him. I will, he said as he gave her a slight smile. Lucy didn't remember falling off her bike. She didn't remember even going down the path or running into the bushes. She wasn't even sure where she was. It somehow all looked familiar, but she couldn't remember any of it. The front wheel on her bike was still spinning, the grating sound like nails on a chalkboard. A broken spoke kept scratching into the metal as it rounded in its rotation, catching the leg. The wheel was bent, but not too badly. The bike was broken, but it could be fixed. Was it her bike? She couldn't remember. She looked at it blankly, not knowing how she got there. Her leg under it with a tree in front of her. Had she hit it? Had she hit the tree and then banged her head off of it? That would explain why she couldn't remember things, wouldn't it? She wasn't sure. She looked around. Trees and bushes surrounded her, but they seemed to be spread apart, and there was an elongated indentation on the road. Was it a path? Had she been on it? She wasn't sure. It did look like a bike path, and she thought she could see where she had veered off of it and into the bushes. She looked back to the bike that was still on top of one of her legs. She couldn't feel it there. She could see it there though it wasn't clear. It was like there was a fog or a haze between her and the bike, but she could still see it. Should she move it and try to get it off of her, or should she scream for help? She looked around her again, but all she could see was trees and bushes. Was there anyone even close enough to hear her? She opened her mouth and tried to make a sound, but nothing came out except a gurgling sound as she tried to push air out of her lungs. It didn't sound right to her. Had she had a voice before? Maybe she was a mute, or maybe she had hurt her throat in the fall. She looked back at the bike. She probably should try to push it away and get it off of her. She bent over and grabbed the center bar and the handlebars. She used her weight to keep herself upright as she started to shift the metal contraption that she must have been riding. It had momentarily caught on something, but with a hard tug, it finally shifted the last couple of feet. It came to rest on the small patch of grass that was at the bottom of the tree. She looked at the bike where it had fallen. The wheel still turned. The broken spoke kept scratching. That tat tat tat sound repeating itself and the wheel would not stop spinning. She turned away from the bike and looked back to her legs. They were moving, so they were okay, but she saw what the bike had gotten caught on. There was a long spoke sticking out from her left leg, and a long gash from where it must have dug itself in. How could she not have felt that? How could it not be bleeding? Was she insane? Was she imagining that she should be bleeding? Wasn't it normal to bleed? Was she crazy to think so? She just didn't know. Her legs moved okay, though. She still couldn't feel them, but she watched as they flailed below her. She decided to try to stand. She leaned forward and reached out for the tree. She was on her knees and started to push herself up. So far so good, but shouldn't she feel her legs moving? Shouldn't she feel the rough bark of the trees as her hands scraped along it? She only knew she was rising by watching the world around her move so. Unless she was now flying, she had to be standing up. She was wobbly. She could tell by how her vision of the world around her shook, but she was up. She took a step towards the path. She wasn't sure how she was doing it, because she couldn't feel her feet or her legs, and she didn't know how she was telling herself to do it, but she was. She was walking. She was moving. How she couldn't tell. She was afraid to even look down at herself, because she was sure that if she looked down, she would trip and fall over herself. So she kept moving. She was stumbling and moving slow, but she was moving. When she made it to the path, she wasn't sure which way to go, but she figured down the path seemed the right way. Where was she going? She thought she remembered. She was going home. She had to get home. She needed to get home. But why? 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 in Visible Spider's Volume 1 by Jason R. Davis when Weird Darkness returns. Chapter 21 Oh no, no, no, no! He should not be doing this. There was no damned way that he should ever be doing this. It wasn't his job, not his department to put his life at risk. He was a lab man, not a field pawn. He was never meant to be out there, and he was not equipped with what he needed to keep himself safe in matters like this. Brian stood near the back door to the doctor's office, still trying to convince himself that he shouldn't go in. He didn't want to, and he was pretty sure it would mean his death. After all, what did he have to go in with?  It was near pointless to even go in. He guessed he could try and give his boss a call, see if he would authorize someone to bring him some proper equipment to keep him safe. Of course, his boss would try to find out what he had seen to make him think that it was something serious, but he still hadn't seen anything. As far as he knew, the doctor could be waiting inside for him, sitting in his office, ready to go over his notes. Of course, if that was true, then why hadn't the doctor answered the phone when he tried to call? He had even tried calling him again from his cell phone. No one answered, and it just kept going to voicemail. Why go in? So he could face his boss when he got back and not sound like he had been a coward out in the field? He already wasn't well liked in the office, and it would only add more fuel to the fire against him. It would mean more jokes, more things for them to say about him behind his back. His hand was on the handle of the door. He had turned it, but stood there, refusing to pull it open. At the corner of his eyes, he could feel the moisture fighting to be free. He wasn't going to cry like some schoolboy. He was too old for that. Yeah, he kept telling himself that, but he knew he didn't really believe it. He was ready to cry. Was ready to cry in a stream of tears to flood the earth. You can't cry enough. You can't allow her to see your weakness, he said to himself. Denise was not too far behind him and was watching him as he stood there. He had to go in. He pulled the door open. Inside, there was a small hallway, dark beyond where the sun shone in. Denise had said that where the hallway ended, he could go left or right, and in the center was the nurses' station and the filing room. Along the outside of the hallways on both sides were the patient rooms. There were four total, three to the right side and only one on the left. If he was to turn right, the first door he would come to would be the doctor's office. The first door on the left would be the break room. She had asked him if he could to check in the break room. She wasn't sure if she had turned off the coffee she had been brewing that morning. Judging by the acrid smell of burnt coffee, he was guessing that she had left the warmer for the coffee pot on, but he didn't feel like that should be his first stop. Turning the coffee pot off could wait. It wasn't going to start a fire. At the end of the hallway, he turned right and went to the first door. He expected it to be darker. When he was outside, everything had looked like it was in complete darkness, but now inside the building, he realized the lights had been left on. It was nowhere near as bright as outside, but once he made the turn, the light from overhead lit his way and showed partially into the little office on his right. The door was open, but with no light on inside the room, he could only see the desk that was lit by the light from the hallway. There were papers on top and he could see what looked like an ancient telephone off to the side. Could it actually be a telephone? The idea of having anything more than his cell phone seemed like a waste, but to have an old telephone, something that looked like it was out of an old movie just made it that much more obscene. He had to take his eyes off the phone as he entered the room. He couldn't allow himself to lose focus. He had a job to do.  He pushed the door further open and turned to his left, already reaching for the light switch. He flicked it on, but nothing happened. He looked over at it and then back to the hallway lights. Okay, so there were lights on in the hall and it was obvious the building had power, so why wasn't the switch working?  Still, nothing. He looked back at the desk, this time taking his time to look it over and study it. It was a plain metal desk, nothing stood out. There were papers on top of it, so he really couldn't make out too many details about the top. There was that stupid, damned old phone that he could see next to it sat a spin dial Rolodex. Man, this guy truly was old school. And what was that on the desk? He could just make out another shape on the far end. Was that a light? He couldn't be sure. He stepped further into the room, maneuvering around the desk. He was moving slow and gingerly, afraid to touch anything. His latex gloves would offer him some protection, but why take any more chances than he already had? He eased into the chair, the wheels making a small chirp as he settled into the nice leather of the chair. Compared to everything else in the room, it was out of place. It was really rather comfortable. Probably a gift, he thought, as he looked to the dark corner of the desk. Now he could see the light that was sitting there. He reached to turn it on, and the room suddenly bathed in a warm glow. It wasn't much, but at least now he could start to see what papers were on the desk. He let his hands glide over the desk, never actually touching anything, but just taking mental notes. It was just some bills, all of which looked to be old, and a legal pad. The bills made him think that the doctor never used his office because one of them was dated for last year. The legal pad was a different story. It looked old. Some of the paper was wrinkled and torn, but the writing on it was from this morning. He could tell as the doctor had dated it when he signed at the bottom. Beside the notepad were three little spots of what looked like white ash or powder. His first thought would have been cocaine, but Brian dismissed it. You don't call the CDC, and then hide and leave drug evidence where a federal employee could find it. The powder was curious because the desk, other than the old mail, was well dusted. The doctor must not have used his office, but someone kept it clean for him. Brian pinched up some of the white powder and ran it through his thumb and forefinger, looking at its consistency. It was powder, but it seemed to stick to his fingers. It looked dry, but acted somewhat like it was wet and almost paste-like. Strange. He didn't like that he also felt a warm tingle in his fingers through the plastic of the gloves. That couldn't be good. He peeled off the glove, quickly dropping it into the garbage can that was next to the desk, and then craned his head to see his fingertips in the available light. They were red and looked sore. Shit, that was not good. Shit!  He scanned over the notes, trying to figure out the doctor's scrawl of handwriting. It wasn't easy. He could pick out some words, ones that must have made the doctor slow down and take more time to write. He could read the words spider and shared delusion, and he also thought it said something about walking corpse no pulse. But that just made no sense.  It all seemed like too much of a setup. Who knows, maybe he was on one of those home video or prank shows. Maybe soon Ashton Kutcher would be jumping out of the closet telling him he had just been junked or whatever that catchphrase he used was. But hadn't Kutcher been cancelled? That's right, they had a new host.  Of course, the real joke would be on them when the US government went after their heads. Down the hallway, there was a loud crash that made the whole wall reverberate. Something large was pounding into one of the doors. It shook the door, its frame, and the whole wall it was attached to. It made Brian jump, nearly falling out of the chair. If this was a joke, they really were going all out on it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an extra glove and pulled it on. He had a bad feeling that it was already too late, but he wasn't going to take a chance. Then he stood, took a deep breath, and started to walk towards the sound. She wasn't sure what her name was. She didn't know where she was going. She was on a road, there were trees around her. Part of her was confused as to where she was, but something else, something deeper, told her that she knew right where she was. It was all somewhat familiar. If that was true, why didn't she remember it? Because she didn't remember anything. What was her name? She didn't even know that anymore. She wanted to think that it sounded something like Lou or Boo or Jew, but she wasn't sure. None of them really sounded right, but she thought that she was close. So where was she going? Home. Really, but where? Where was her home? Was it around the corner? Yes, it all looked familiar, but was it? She didn't know how she kept moving towards the curve. Her body was alien to her. She felt like she was a passenger in her own skin, but it was still going to where she wanted. The invaders didn't have control yet. She still told the body where to go. She couldn't feel it, and it all felt like it was dead to her, but she still had control. Control of what? Who was she? Where was she going? Brian reached the door. He knew it was the right one because he could hear them on the other side. He didn't know how many of them were in there, but he could hear more than one. He could hear the multiple people bouncing around in there. He guessed that they were waiting in there to play some prank on him, but they weren't being too careful about it. They were making enough noise that he had figured it all out pretty easily. Hello? He said to the wood door. He was still hoping to talk to the doctor and keep the joke from playing out. His boss liked the man. The last thing he wanted to do was to get the doctor in trouble. He would try to give the doctor an out. Still, try to allow him to claim that the call had originally been a legitimate one. He would give the doctor that chance. But if they went through with it, that option was off the table. He wasn't going to allow himself to be made a fool of. Somewhere in the back of his mind an itch of a thought tried to surface. Then it hit him. If this was a joke being played, then why him? Did he know this doctor? Had he met him before and this was something him and Chris had dreamed up since Brian was going to be in the area? There was always that chance since Chris knew him that Brian had met the man as well. It made sense. Why else would Chris send him out there? Chris knew he wasn't a field agent and knew how much he hated being around people. This all had to be a setup, a practical joke being played on him. Dr. Wilson, he called again. There was a crash against the door. It sounded like a large group of people converged and slammed into it. He heard the cracking sound of splintering wood. He looked at the door and saw that it was cracked down the center and was bulging out as it had started to give way. This wasn't a joke. He had known it from the beginning, but the proof of it sank like a lead weight to the bottom of his stomach. He could feel his breakfast fighting to come up and he didn't know how much longer he could hold it in. His hands shook and he could feel his bowels pinch as a pain shot through them.  He took a step back and fell into the three foot high barrier that blocked his way into the nurses station. Instead of looking to move around it, he backed his way along the wall, not wanting to take his eyes off the door. There was another slam. This time, the door gave away even more and now there was a gaping hole. The large shapes on the other side still couldn't get through, but he could see one of their faces. It was looking at him and his breath caught in his throat. Through the crack in the door, he could see the gray, dead eyes and the pale skin of what looked like a dead man trying to climb through the hole. There were wounds along the man's face, deep gashes, but no blood poured down. There was dried blood on the face, but nothing oozing from the wounds. The man was dead. There was no denying it. There was no way a man could look like that and still be alive. Brian felt warmth running down his thigh and knew that he had pissed himself, but he didn't care. He backed down the hall, telling himself that if he could get away from the gaze of that beast, it couldn't hurt him. He wasn't human, not anymore. Whatever, whoever, that had been, it was not human. Brian found the gap into the nurses' station and nearly fell backward into it. He wasn't even sure how he had reached out in time to catch himself on the partition, but once he had, that was it. He turned and went into a full run to the doctor's office. He wanted to get out of there, but knew it was too late for that. He was already exposed. He couldn't chance making anyone else sick. At least that little bit of rationale made it into his irrational mind. He slammed closed the doctor's office just as he heard the creatures slam into the door one more time. From the sounds of splintering wood, he guessed that the door had finally given out and they were now in the hallway. He didn't go look. Instead, he looked around the little office. Then he hurried over to the desk and pushed against it. The metal squealed as it protested against being moved, but after a good shove, it finally moved across the room and slammed against the door. It wasn't going to hold. Well, it may. He didn't know for sure. At least it was something. It was something to keep him away from them, and right now, that was all he wanted. Not that it mattered. His life was over the moment he was probably within air contamination of those things. He had to call it in. This town, it had to be locked down. There wasn't any evidence that it had escaped this office, but they couldn't take that chance. If it was airborne, if the knees had it and had been around others, it could already have spread and more in the town may be affected. He couldn't take that chance. They would lock down the town, make sure, and if everything was safe, they would just have to come up with a good cover story. If everything wasn't safe. Brian grimaced at the thought. He knew that if they weren't safe, if things got worse in the town, the media would have just been given an even better cover story. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. It took him only a second to scroll through his programmed numbers until he found the one he wanted. He was right under his listing for Mom. He had it listed as Mother. It wasn't all that original, but he never did take those protocols too seriously. When would he ever need them, right? An almost mechanical-sounding female's voice answered on the first ring. In the most unwelcoming tone Brian thought he had ever heard, the phone said to him flatly, Lemro's pizza. Flag day, he said into the phone.  He screamed it as he heard them lumbering closer, very close to the door. Now it wouldn't be long. God, he hoped they got there soon. He doubted that he would be saved.  He was dead. There was no way anyone would come there for him. He was gone. Dead the moment he had made that phone call. The heavy force slammed against the door, momentarily pushing in on the desk. Right now the quarantine was not his greatest concern. Another force, a heavy object, but without a lot of power behind it slammed against the door. Two smaller thumps continued to hit against the wall. They were going to keep going until they got through that door. They were going to get in and then he was dead. He was already a dead man. He looked at the phone in his hand. Maybe he should call his sister? He watched as a spider crawled out from under his sleeve and climbed onto the phone. He brought the receiver to his forehead, feeling the cool plastic on his skin as he felt the warm wet tear roll down his cheek. She came to a large house, which felt familiar. Somewhere inside of her she wondered if it was a part of a dream she had once had. All of this, moving without moving, not feeling herself, it all seemed like it may be just part of a dream. Maybe it was, and she was just a pawn of her own imagination. Some part of her knew that it wasn't, but everything else screamed at her to accept that it was. It told her to pinch herself, but she already knew that she couldn't feel it. She knew already just as she remembered pulling the long spoke from her bike out from her leg. She hadn't felt that. How would she feel a pinch? This all had to be a dream. It sounded nice, but something else inside of her, something deeper, told her that it wasn't. She found herself lumbering around the familiar house to the back door. She stumbled her way up the steps, once falling and slamming her knees to the hard wood. She wanted to grimace from the pain and scream out for help, but there had been no pain. That alarmed her. It troubled her more that while she had meant to scream, she hadn't been able to. Before she had realized there was no pain, there was the reflex. She wanted to cry out, to bellow in pain, but when she opened her mouth, no sound came out.  She couldn't feel it, and she couldn't see it, so she had no way to know for sure. She made it back to her feet, and after a few more stumbles, she was at the back door. She watched a prisoner in her own body as her hand reached out and pulled open the door. She knew that it was by pure willpower that she was still coming to this place, but she knew that strand of will was growing weaker. She didn't know how much longer she had that force left in her. She was dying. She stepped beyond the door and found herself in a room with cabinets and a table in the center. She made it. She was… where? Where was she? Why had she fought so hard to get back here? Where was here? She heard a low moan from the next room. It was a loud thump and another shriek of pain. She looked in the direction of the sound. She couldn't see much of the room yet, but she could make out a large elongated table in the center topped with what looked like some green type of fabric. She wasn't surprised when her body stumbled in the direction of the sounds. She came to stand in front of a large man. He was sitting up against the wall, slowly, lethargically moving back and forth. She didn't know if he was trying to stand or just to sit up. He just went back and forth, flailing, not moving with much purpose. Finally, his eyes looked up at her. They may have been brown or some other dark color, but they were glazed over and while they looked straight at her, they never seemed to focus. They were lost, pleading eyes, looking to her for… what? Salvation? The voices inside of her came alive as she looked at the man. They all wanted something from him or to do something to him. They cried out, calling for her to take him. They all wanted her to move to him to… what did they want her to do with him? Spread! She heard the voices inside her mind scream. That was the last thing that Lucy understood as her last strand, her last part that was still herself, faded to nothing. She was lost. Lucy bent down over the body. There was nothing left of the little girl. Her mind was gone. There was now only desire and need. Desire for the creatures inside of her to get food and the need for them to spread. They would never be satisfied as their breed was unnatural and made with only the two purposes. Lucy bent down to the man and as she neared him, she opened her mouth. She would never see the swarm of spiders as they ran over top of him. Their screams of pleasure were endless as Lucy bit into his neck. He screamed out in pain, but it wasn't any use. There was no one near that would hear him and he didn't have the strength to fight her. The swarm rushed from her, entering through the large hole in the man's neck and rushing into their new home. What was one is now two and what is two will soon be four. Four will become eight and eight will yield into sixteen if not more. The spreading has started and new food must be obtained. Used food, host food must be used to find new food and the pattern continues. Before his mind can grasp what has happened, Vince is already lost, is now one or two spiders raced to devour what was left of his mind. Hundreds came, and what had been taking hours to lay new eggs and spread now took only minutes. 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 22. Chaos erupted around the front of the store. At first, no one even moved as they saw their boss being eaten by Billy, someone they had all been working with for a long time. Sure, many of them would never admit to really ever liking Billy. In fact, most of the younger girls that worked there always had been a little creeped out by him. He would quietly sneak around sometimes, it would just hover behind them. So yeah, he was that creepy guy that they always talked about behind his back, but he was also the one they called whenever they had a question about the furniture department. He was the expert they had all come to know and trust. Well, trust as much as they would any co-worker, and here he was eating Tim. He was there, eating their boss.  That was just wrong. Billy continued to bite into him, tearing away at the flesh, and the blood, there was just so much of it. It was everywhere, flowing, flooding along the floor. The white tiles had turned red and had become slippery. At first, no one reacted. They were all too stunned. Then, moments later, the world came alive with motion, everything happening at once. All of it coming to life when the sound of the bitchy woman, the annoying customer that all of them had already been frustrated with, fell loudly to the floor. Sam, the woman who had been behind the counter and had been sorting the thin little yellow price tags that they used to mark items, had been just to the right of Tim.   Then, Billy suddenly reached out and had bitten into him. He did it out of nowhere, and Tina had been in the path of the fountain of blood. It rained all around her. When it had sprayed up into the air of the department store, it had fallen down in a widespread, and it had rained all around her. The dark crimson became a bath of gore that enveloped her, and she couldn't even respond to it happening. It covered her, the price tags, and it had even gotten into her hair. She just stood there at first, watching. Tim never even fought back. He must have been surprised, and by the time he could have reacted, it was too late. He had just stood there as Billy had reached out, maybe reacting startled at first, and trying to put out his hands to steady the young man. However, Billy had suddenly grabbed him, and after that first bite, there was just too much blood. After it had sprayed over her for what seemed like forever, though it couldn't have been more than just a matter of seconds, Tina's mind started to work again, and she started to back away. Even with the counter between the two of them, it wasn't good enough. Her mind came suddenly awake in full force, and she knew that the space between them was never going to be big enough. She had to get away. She had to get out of there. That shouldn't be too hard. She was the closest to the front door. She heard screams then. Her eyes seemed to reconnect to her body, and she could hear what was happening again. She heard screams, barely realizing that they were her own, and yelling. She heard people screaming at each other, yelling. Some were calling out names. Some were yelling for people to rush to their aid. Some were yelling for people to get behind them for protection. Sam wasn't too sure who was doing what. She was getting out of there. She had already turned from the clatter of motion. She was working to hurry to where the entrance of the counter was. It was just by the exit, and should be easy for her. All she had to do was get there, and she would be able to get out. That wasn't so hard. She just had to get to the exit. She just had to run. Her legs were rubber, but they still propelled her. They took her faster than her mind was able to work. Quickly, she had made her way to the gaping hole in the counter that allowed her out. Then she was turning and running towards the door. Somewhere behind her, she had heard someone calling her name, but she wasn't looking back. She slammed into the door, and with a loud crunching sound, the glass spider webbed before her. She had run straight into it, but she hadn't been ready for it. Her large nose had been the first to hit, and she heard a loud crack that came with a fountain of sparks behind her eyes, and pain flooding her dampened mind. Behind her, she heard what sounded like loud firecrackers. Strange, she thought, it wasn't 4th of July yet. It was way too early for them. And why were people firing them off in the store? Stumbling, she turned. The world around her was growing dark. The floor below her, so welcoming, she just wanted to lie down and let some form of sleep take over. She was suddenly tired. She didn't really even care if she never woke up. She just wanted to lie down and let it wash over her. She looked up. She saw Aaron on the other side of the counter. He was holding a gun and was pointing it down. What was he doing with a gun? He shouldn't have one of those. He was at work. That just wasn't allowed.  Aaron started to back away. Somewhere in her mind, she thought about how she should call out to him and say, hi. She really hadn't wished him a good morning yet, and she liked Aaron. Maybe he would finally ask her out on a date. Billy stood up and was between her and Aaron. He was starting towards him, and Tina thought she could see what looked like bullet holes in the back of Billy's shirt. That was funny. Why did he have them? If Tim saw that, he was going to be pissed. Then the ground seemed just too inviting, and she laid down, letting her world slip away into blackness. She barely felt the feet later as people started to run over her out the door. Winona had been just coming to the end of the aisle when she heard the first sounds that something was wrong. Calling it a scream wouldn't have been right, but it sounded like that was what the woman had been trying to do. The sound of it had seemed to die in her throat, self-muffled, and then it ended suddenly with a thud. When Winona emerged from the aisle, she saw something worse than her sickest of imagination, which said a lot because of some of the action she had seen when she had been dispatched overseas. A woman had just fallen. Okay, so that wasn't so bad. No, it was the man who was, for all intents and purposes, eating another man. He had grabbed him and was biting into the man. He was trying to fight against the other man, but he just wouldn't let go. Another scream rang out, and Winona watched as the woman behind the counter was trying to run away. At least she was showing more sense than the other woman. The other one had stopped screaming because she had just unceremoniously passed out. She saw a movement out of the corner of her eye and watched as a young man had sneaked up behind the biter. However, he seemed to be so focused on his, well, food that he didn't notice. She saw something flash, some light catching on something stuck in the back of the biter's shirt. She stretched her neck, craning it to get a little better look, and she saw why the man was trying to sneak up on him. She saw what he was doing, but the biter was moving away from him. The larger man, currently being eaten, was sliding down the counter as the strength was leaving him. The biter was following him, and as he bent, the butt of a gun showed from beneath his shirt. She guessed that gutsy boy there was going to try and grab it. Good call. At least someone was showing some sense. The woman behind the counter still hadn't seemed to really focus on to anything but screaming, and the one on the floor, well, she looked like she would be out until someone splashed some cold water on her. Both of them made Winona pissed, as both of them made women look bad under pressure, which she knew a lot about. She had fought against it for a long time in her unit. Being one of only two women in her National Guard unit, the rest of them thought that women had no place in line among them. Yeah, at first they didn't. It wasn't easy, but over time she had earned their respect. She had done what had needed to get done, and she had stood in the face of danger with them and didn't back down. Not as much could have been said about that damn other woman that had been in their unit. When the time had come and when the bullets had been flying, she had frozen. In battle, there isn't much worse you can do than to freeze up, other than actually shooting a friendly. Freezing up meant that not only did you put your life at risk, but it also meant that you put the life of those around you at risk. Three of Winona's good friends were dead and in pieces because of it.  Why wasn't someone trying to call the cops? Why wasn't she calling the cops? Her phone buzzed in her back pocket, and it brought her back to what she needed to do. She couldn't just stay standing there. She had to watch, observe, report, and formulate a plan, but not necessarily in that order. First thing, she had to call the police. She pulled the phone from her pocket, looking at who was calling. Shit, it was the emergency dispatch number. She had orders coming in. She knew that meant there was an emergency and that she was required to take the call. How could she though?  She had to transfer it to voicemail. She knew it was going to cost her later and she grimaced as she hit the button. Then she dialed the emergency number. She had backed away down the aisle a little so that she didn't have direct view of the situation anymore, but at least that meant that none of them had any view of her. That was a good thing. She didn't want them to notice her, at least right now. A voice just came on to the line announcing, emergency services, how may I direct your call? Just as the first gunshot rang out. Winona barely kept from jumping and her grip on her phone became hard. She could feel the edges of the cheap plastic digging into her fingers. Oh my God, the woman exclaimed on the other end of the line. Winona grimaced at how loud the voice seemed as it screamed through the speaker on the phone. I bet the Winona had to struggle to think of which department store she was in. She couldn't believe she had forgotten it. She thought she had been better than that, better at dealing with situations under heavy amounts of tension. She actually had to think, to look around and to work, to remember where she was. She had to look at the brands. The name of the place was trying to come to her. She could see the generic labels. The wheels inside her moved slow but couldn't seem to click. Her eyes focused on the labels. The letters started to shape words and then it was like a light just turned on. Her training came to her.  Hello? The woman through the headset was saying. Winona could hear concern in her voice. She opened her eyes and looked at the labels. It all was there. She remembered clearly where she was. I thought I heard a gunshot. Yes, multiple gunshots. There's a shooter, but I think he's actually trying to stop the main attacker. There's a lot of blood, multiple people down. The main aggressor seems to be unarmed, but he has attacked at least one individual and I — she wasn't too sure as to what else to say. She wasn't sure what was going on because none of it made any sense. She eased herself back down the aisle. She wasn't sure what was going on but she had to find out. It was her duty to give them as much information as possible so when the police came they knew what they were dealing with. She had to help them. She eased to the end of the aisle and the phone dropped out of her hands as she gasped. Her hands came up to stop herself, but the sound had already escaped. Billy was no longer on the large fat man and eating him. At some point he had turned around to the one who had been firing the gun. Both of them were now on the ground and Billy was tearing away at the flesh on Aaron's throat, much like he had done when he had first attacked Tim. Aaron was still moving, the gun hanging limply in his arm. His head just bobbed back and forth. His legs weakly kicked out along the floor. He was moving, but Winona didn't think it was due to any attempt to escape. She wasn't even sure he was alive. No, she could see his eyes. She knew that he was dead because she had seen that look before. She had seen it more than once but that look, that partial missing face, pulled her back to when she was overseas. Around her, dust and sand blew. There was screams. Now there were screaming women and children around her. A building had just blown up and she was running towards it. On the ground was one of her squad members. He was on the ground, or parts of him were. He was missing an arm in most of the left side of his lower body. She looked over at him and she had seen those dull eyes. However his body was still moving. His right arm was reaching for her. She could swear that his lips were moving and he was mouthing, help me to her. But that was impossible. He was dead, but his body just didn't realize it. His muscles continued to twitch as blood still tried to pump through. Winona backed across the aisle and slammed into one of the cardboard displays. It rocked back and plastic cases clattered to the floor. She tripped on the debris and continued to fall back. She slammed hard against the metal aisle at an angle and a heat lance of pain shot up her arm. Her momentum carried her and she slid down more of the items around being knocked loose and following her.  So much noise, there was no way they didn't hear that up front. She looked down the aisle, wincing from the pain already stabbing at her kidney. Billy was looking up at her. His eyes were lifeless and gray, but she could see that they still were able to focus on her. She didn't even think about it. She went into motion and spider crawled back, working until she could clear the display. It took some effort, but she was able to turn. Pain shot through her sides, waves of heat flashing up and down her spine. Her eyes narrowed as she took a sudden intake of breath and then eased it out, pushing away the sensation, not letting it slow her down. She reached out, grabbed one of the metal shelves and used it to pull herself upright. It had taken some effort, but she was up and moving. She glanced back over her shoulder. The biter was trying to stand. He wasn't doing a good job at it. It was almost like he had forgotten how, his legs, not working right. She didn't have time to think about that now. She would have to file that away and get back to it later. She had to get away or she wasn't going to survive. Instincts had started to kick in. Her training was flooding back to her. She had to get up and get out of sight. Then she could slow down and become quiet. The front was blocked. There was not going to be any way to get out through there, not unless he followed her and she was able to circle around. She needed to plan. Her priority was to get out if she could. She also needed to find any other survivors and get them out as well. She had to get out through the front or check to see her options in the back. Fire regulations meant there had to be fire exits nearby, but it was a retail store so an alarm would sound. Did she risk it? No, she still didn't know the full situation. What if there were more crazies in the store? A shutter tried to keep its way down her back, but she quickly pushed that thought out of her mind. It was a possibility.  She didn't want to think about having to deal with a band of cannibals loose in the store. She hurried to the end of the aisle and turned to get out of sight. Chapter 23 When Thomas Carter woke up, it had been with a headache that felt like it should have belonged with a hangover and allowed screeching sound ringing through his head. He didn't want to move. His eyes were crusted shut and didn't want to open. They fought against it, and the pain in his head was shooting daggers at the slightest motion. If he kept still, it was only a dull stiffness.  Ah!  He called out to the empty room as he rolled over, feeling the soreness that was all throughout his body. He reached over to his nightstand and caught the screeching thumb that was dancing its way dangerously close to the edge. Not opening his eyes to look at the display, he flipped it open. Yeah! He barked into the receiver. Hey, Tom, we got a call in from the Rolex, silent alarm. He heard a panicked voice, which was uncommon for the woman on the other end of the connection. He had recognized the voice right away. It was Samuel's, his morning deputy who had just replaced him on duty. He wasn't sure what time it was, but it felt like he got into bed no more than a few minutes ago. He couldn't have been asleep that long. Shit! What stores are even open this early? It's a little after 11, so most of them are open. It's the office store that's pulled the alarm, so they would have been open for a little over an hour. You on your way? Yes, but I would like some backup. Have you placed a call in to the state police? I have, but they say all their people are tied up elsewhere in the area. They seem to dodge my questions as to why we couldn't get any help.  Carter was pulling himself up. His head was trying to stay tied to the pillow, but as he brought it up with him, some of the cobwebs of his mind faded away. This wasn't making any sense, but he wasn't sure if it had anything to do with the haziness of sleep or if things were really all that strange. Had she really just said the state police were unwilling to dispatch backup? You tried county as well? Yes, and got the same answer. That was odd. What the hell else was going on this morning to keep both the county and the state police tied up? The cool hardwood of the floor creaked under him as he stood and made his way to the closet. He hit the speaker on his phone so he could put it down and still talk while he put on his uniform. Was it his imagination or was it still slightly damp from his sweat this morning? It was probably just the humidity in the air, he thought, as he started to unbutton it from around the hanger so he could put it on. The familiar fabric was soft in his hands and felt well worn. Some days, he thought as he pulled one arm into the short-sleeved navy blue shirt, it felt like he lived in that damned uniform that all he ever wore was the dark blue and that he never had time to wear anything else. He was always working, or at least the town always perceived him that way. When he was in town, he was on duty. The shirt was his second skin. Long days made him feel like this was a position he could never get away from. This was going to be one of them. Not that he didn't have a full staff. Unlike many of the neighboring towns where the city councils allowed barely enough payroll for one officer per day to be working, something he never understood as it left much of the time for no one to be watching over the area, they lived in a town where there was at least one officer always on duty. It worked out nice, and in the evenings he even had it scheduled that there was a three-hour overlap, so two officers were typically on duty during the rowdyest of times. In a town that averages more bars than churches, it seemed appropriate to have enough to handle the bar fights and the occasional drug and gambling bust that they did throughout the town. Not that Hammond was all that large of a town, but for its size, it seemed like it tried to compete with the larger towns nearby. He had heard the nickname more than once, Little Chicago. While they were nowhere on par with the big city, it seemed like there was enough crime to justify the name and the additional police force. It also meant that he had four other officers that he could call on when they were needed. If there was a problem at the office store, he would probably need to call them in. Call in the Calvary, I guess. See who you can get, he said to the phone, as he finished buttoning up the shirt and was reaching for his pants. I'll be there in ten minutes. Call me back in five with a status report. We'll do, Samuels said. He straightened as he pulled up his pants and reached out for his phone. He didn't wait to listen to the line going dead and flipped it closed. Hey, Nancy! Nancy, hey! Was someone calling out to her? She heard something familiar, and it seemed like her name. She wasn't sure. Nancy, hey! Good game so far! Glad it's almost over, though. Hey, if you talk to George yet about the yearbook, everyone's really curious to see what you do with it this year after you did such a great job with it last year. Nancy stopped and let the larger woman catch up to her. She felt like she knew the woman. The familiarity tried to push its way out from deep in her thoughts. This woman, she knew her. Not quite on her tongue, but buried further back. It was there with other thoughts, but was drifting away to just out of her reach. She knew this woman. She just wasn't sure where she had known her from. And where had she been going? Her thoughts rearranged and tried to surface again. The concession stand. That's right. She had gotten up and had left the school's gym to go to the concessions being sold in the lunchroom. The school was designed with the lunchroom just being down the hall and to the left, and she had been feeling really strange. As she had been sitting there watching the game, the voices kept telling her to feed. She didn't feel hungry, but the voices kept telling her that she was. Hey Nancy, are you alright? The woman asked. Nancy looked at her. Alright. Was she? She thought so, but she wasn't sure. She didn't really feel anything. Inside all she felt was a nothingness, disconnected. Her mind was swimming while her body seemed to be going on autopilot. She had felt hungry, but she hadn't thought about really reacting to it. Yet somehow she had gotten up and started to make the walk to the concessions. She didn't really feel hungry. How could she feel hungry when she couldn't feel anything inside of her? Yet something was pushing her and telling her she was hungry. She couldn't stop the thought. It was there telling her, instructing her to find food. There were too many of them already, and she needed to find food. They needed food. They needed space. Who needed food though? Who needed space? Nancy, I think you should come over to the stairs and sit down. You don't look well. You look a little peeked, Mrs. Gents was saying to her. Nancy had a brief recognition. Mrs. Gents was the school's principal. She had been talking about the yearbook. Was Nancy still working on that? Somehow she knew that she was, but she felt like that was no longer important, like something from a previous life. Nancy could see that the woman had reached out for her arms and was trying to lead her to the stairwell. However, as soon as the woman had seen her arm, she had stopped and her expression had grown more questioning. Her eyebrows raised in confusion. Nancy could see what the woman was looking at. When did that happen? The full, comprehensible thought actually breaking in through the cloud, growing in her mind. Her arms had long gashes in them. Some of them were very deep, and in a few places, she could see broken parts of fake fingernails deep in her skin. They must have been hers. She had been scratching herself. Long flaps of flesh had come up and were dangling. At first, the skin had looked like it wasn't scratched too bad, but Nancy could see that as soon as Mrs. Gents had lifted her arm, the dangling flesh had slipped to the side, exposing the hideous scratch marks. There was no blood. Shouldn't there have been blood if she had been scratching herself like that? She looked as the large woman was examining her arm. She didn't feel like it was a part of her. She could see how the arm reached up and connected to her shoulder, but she didn't feel any pain from the cuts. She didn't even feel it as the woman was holding it and moving it around. Then she looked at the woman and realized that her hunger had grown. Something was telling her that there was food in front of her. She didn't fully understand, but something inside of her was telling her that there was food right there, ready for her to devour. She yearned for it. She needed it. She needed to reach out and take it. As a prisoner in her own body, she watched as she moved forward and in a second, she was on top of the woman. Together they fell to the ground. Mrs. Gents cried out in surprise and then pain as Nancy landed on top of her. Nancy hadn't waited though. As soon as she had reached her and they were falling, she had pulled the woman closer until she was biting into her cheek. She tore at the flesh and as the blood flowed into her mouth, she could hear them inside of her. The voices screamed with delight. She continued to move forward and as the woman tried to push Nancy off of her, she just kept biting. At one point, the woman had gotten a hand up, trying to protect her face, but Nancy had bitten off two fingers. Mrs. Gents was now a screaming bloody mess beneath her. Around her, the gym was breaking out into chaos and panic. Others had started to eat as well. Nancy didn't know how she knew, but as she continued to bite and to enjoy, to eat and to spread, she knew that the others were also spreading. You can find all of the audiobooks I've narrated on the audiobooks page at WeirdDarkness.com, including the sequel to the story you are listening to now. More of the audiobook hatched, Invisible Spiders Volume 1 by Jason R. Davis, When Weird Darkness Returns. Chapter 24 Denise didn't like the waiting.  That CDC guy had left to go into her husband's office just over an hour ago. Since then, she had heard some noises, loud pounding sounds and then screams, what sounded like inhuman screams, high pitch howls of someone calling out for help. She had wanted to run and see if she could. She had gotten up and ran across the gravel and had even reached three feet from the door when she had caught herself. She couldn't go in. She wanted to go in and be with him, but the moment she crossed that threshold, she would be in the quarantine. There was no coming back out after that. She would be trapped. So she had to stay out of there and listen to whatever was going on. She had to listen to the screams. They called out to her and were asking someone to come help. They were tearing him apart in there and he was screaming about the spiders that were crawling into his mouth. Then the screaming had stopped. She could hear his gurgling. She didn't know how the man could be fighting and be that loud when she was still a few feet from the door. It didn't seem possible, but she heard it and she knew that she was listening to him die. That was when the tears started. She didn't know they were even coming at first. She just felt the first tear as it streaked down from the corner of her eye. Then there was the second one from the other side and before she could even stop herself and acknowledge the pain she felt, the storm came upon her and she collapsed onto the gravel. It hurt. Oh, she could ignore the pain in her backside. She hurt inside as a mixture of feelings twisted her and pulled at her. She felt an emptiness of emotion in her chest while a massive weight pounded in on her. Then there was the sickness, the acid-like feeling in her stomach. She didn't know how so many things could go in so many directions at once. Her body felt like it was falling apart and all she wanted was to close her eyes, push it all away and lie there in the driveway. At least she had some kind of sense that kept her from doing that. Now she just sat and looked, staring at the wooden back door of the doctor's office. Her husband was gone. The man she had shared a bed with for over the last 15 years was not going to be there for her tonight. The man she shared every day with, the man she knew better than she even knew herself, the man she had promised she would love until death do them part, was now done with his vows. She tried to push back the memory. It was trying to bring with it more tears as she suddenly found herself back on their wedding day. He had just recently graduated from medical school and they had somehow restrained themselves and had made it that long. They had wanted to get married sooner and sometimes on those quiet nights alone in bed, they would fantasize about running off to the justice of the peace and just making it official. They loved each other and had been living together for the previous two years. Many of their friends already were calling her his wife. Everyone knew it was coming.  However, both of them knew that if they did, they would have hurt everyone's feelings. Every one of their friends and even many of his professors were looking forward to the wedding.  They were well liked. Why shouldn't they let all their friends be a part of it? Still, those nights of lying together in bed, looking forward to their happy future together, it was hard not to say, hey, let's just go and do it. Thankfully, they never did. One of them would often point out how it would devastate all of their friends and family who had already saved the date. Then, whoever talked the other out of it would gingerly give a little poke to the other's ribs. They would laugh and giggle about it and then she would rest her head against his chest. They would just lie there, holding each other, looking forward to their wonderful and long future together. She didn't want that future to end. She remembered seeing him there as they stood in front of all of their friends. He was trying to say his vows to her. They had both written them down, and being the endless preparers that they were, they had each rehearsed them over and over so they could say them from memory. When it came time for him to say his words, his face had gone so red and she could see how hard it was for him. He was the one to cry. He was the one to stutter over the words. She could see the love for her in his eyes, and see that he was trying so hard because he loved her so much. She saw that he was having trouble breathing. My God, she had thought. He was going to pass out. She knew he was, too. She knew him too well. She started making faces towards him, awkward, comical ones, like kids would do to each other in a game and get the other person to laugh, and he did. She could see that it helped him, too. He was able to get through his vows. Then they kissed and were husband and wife. She was his and he was hers for life. He would be her husband until he died. She knew that she would never leave him, and that he would never do anything to risk their marriage. She knew it with every fiber of her being. She never had reason to distrust. He was a part of her. He was her heart. But now her heart was gone. Now her husband was… Her husband was a loud sound boomed from the door, as it sounded like a large mass ran into it. Like someone had walked straight into it and then bounced against it, not realizing that it wasn't going to open by just running into it. Then the sound quieted briefly, to be followed with an even louder pounding against the door. Something inside the office wanted to get out. Was the door locked? Even if it was, the door locked from the inside. If someone wanted to come out, all they would have to do was turn the door handle. So what did this mean? So that meant that whatever it was didn't know how to turn the handle. She didn't know how she did it. She didn't know why she did it, because a large part of her just wanted to stay there and let whatever was trying to come through that door have her. She didn't even know what part of her didn't want to just let it all go. That seemed to be the thought behind every core of her being. It wasn't logical. Logical thinking would be that it was her husband and that he was hurt, and he could have even needed her help. That was rational, right? So why did she have a s