As the companions reached the bridge, they turned from the bloody combat and J.B. took a full minute to check for traps before waving them onward. The spider squealed and the cougar roared as they started across the ancient roadway. There were potholes everywhere, some of them going all the way through and they could see the bare steel rods set inside the concrete bed, and foamy brine below, jagged rocks and coral filling the blue Cific waters. Worse, every step they took was starting to shake the weakened structure, the vibrations mounting until it was becoming difficult to walk.
“Get off the pavement and onto the girders,” Ryan directed them, heading for the side. “Can’t trust this asphalt to hold!”
As they rushed to the upright support beams, the shaking bridge pavement shattered into pieces, cracks spreading outward like some terrible disease. Whole sections of asphalt plummeted away to explode into rubble on the coral and outcroppings.
“Move!” Krysty shouted, and clumsily raced along the girder to dive for the imagined safety of the next island. She landed sprawling, and rolled away to clear the area for the others, who followed close behind.
As they painfully stood on the firm ground, the companions watched as the rest of the predark roadway broke loose and dropped into the channel until there was nothing remaining but the steel girders and struts of the trestle. On the other island, the spider triumphantly raised a struggling cougar high in the sky with its serrated mandibles, then dashed the body onto the ground, smashing it to pieces under pounding legs.
“It’s going to be a bitch getting back across,” Mildred stated, brushing dirt off her clothes. “The steel looks solid enough, but it’ll be slick with spray without the road to block the wash from the waves.”
“We can tie ropes around each other, and then to the stanchions,” Doc suggested, breathing hard. “The way mountain climbers do.”
“Yeah, that’ll work. Good idea.”
“Thank you, madam.”
Checking his pockets to make sure he hadn’t lost any ammo, Dean started to ask the adults why anybody would want to climb a mountain, but decided this wasn’t the time or place.
“Need explosives, or more Molotovs, to handle the spider,” J.B. added, adjusting his glasses. “Take most of our ammo to chill it from a distance.”
Across the channel, the huge insect looked up from gutting the corpse of the cougar and stared directly at the man. If he didn’t know better, J.B. would have sworn it understood what he had said. The mere thought sent a chill along his spine. Humanity’s greatest weapon against the muties was their lack of intelligence. Smart muties were a nightmare.
“Keep moving. Somebody may come to check on the noise,” Ryan said, and headed off the roadway, plunging into the bushes and trees of the cool green forest.
WITH BOTH of his mouths full of meat, the spider paused in tearing off the strips of flesh, the dying cat whimpering in agony. The two-legs were gone. Had they deliberately set the cats free, to hold it at bay until they could escape? Were they that smart? It was a chilling thought.
The cougar eventually died, while the spider finished his meal. Afterward, the insect started to turn around and around, kicking a shallow depression in the soft loam. Then he nestled into the hole and began to wiggle his huge body back and forth until the loose soil covered him completely, except for a tiny slit in front of his bulging eyes.
He had food and wasn’t badly hurt. The wounds would heal quickly with a full belly. So he would wait again for the two-legs to return. And this time, he wouldn’t wait for them to fall or try to trap the meat. They were too quick, too clever. No, he would simply leap upon the food the second it came off the iron skeleton, crushing the leader of the pack, then killing the others at his leisure.
But for now, he would wait. The food would return. It always did.
DEEP WITHIN the forest, the companions eased their retreat only after losing sight of the bridge and the terrible thing on the other side.