“Poor bastards,” Mildred said. “Spiders eat their prey alive. It’s saving them for later.”
Dean raised the rifle and started to aim at the weeping cocoon, then paused. They didn’t have a lot of rounds, and if they had to fight the giant insect, this single round could make the difference between running and getting cocooned. Reluctantly, he lowered the longblaster and tucked it back into the boot. Just then a weapon fired, and the human-shaped cocoon jerked once, then went still as a crimson stain spread across the silky material.
“I think there’s enough clearance for us to walk the bikes under the web,” Ryan said, working the bolt on the smoking Steyr and sliding it back into the gun boot.
“It’s going to be tight,” J.B. said, removing his hat and stuffing it inside his jacket.
“We could burn our way through,” Dean suggested, nudging the satchel full of Molotov cocktails, the firebombs silent from the layers of protective padding between each bottle.
“And the smoke would tell everything in the city where we were,” Ryan said, stepping off his bike, but keeping a hand on the throttle to keep the engine from stalling. The timing had to be off, or maybe there was blockage in the jets, because the bike was beginning to run a little rough. He’d have to keep a watch on that problem.
Pausing before the complex arrangement, he could see the main cables that anchored the web were thicker than a man, slimmer ropes connected each cable and small strands no bigger than a soup can closed off the sections of the web, making it impossible for anything to escape. A masterpiece of nature, the spider web was beautiful and bone chilling. From a distance, the web had appeared old and dirty. This close they could see the shading actually came from the thousands of tiny winged insects coating every strand.
Approaching the colossal web, Ryan glanced straight up the side and quickly looked back down at the road. The sheer size of the web gave him a rush of vertigo. Probably wasn’t as bad for the folks with two good eyes, but for him the dizzying effect was strong.
The bottom strand stretched across the roadway at waist height. As he tilted the bike far enough over to roll it underneath, the engine began to sputter, the carburetor flooding from the steep angle. Quickly, he adjusted the throttle to keep the engine going as he stooped low and scuttled under the death web. Ryan was almost past the white net when something tugged on his hair. With blinding speed, he drew the SIG-Sauer and turned, ready to fire. In relief, the man saw the tug came from some of his long hair stuck to the web. Bolstering the blaster, he pulled out the panga and cut himself loose, letting the web keep its small trophy of hair.
Reaching the other side, he gratefully righted the motorcycle and rubbed his scalp to ease the sting. The purring of the other bikes got louder as the vehicles were pushed by the riders under the obstruction. Regrouping on the far side, Doc and Mildred were both rubbing their heads, both obvious victims of the web, and Krysty’s animated hair was coiled so tightly to her scalp she appeared to have a curly crew cut.
“Made it.” Dean sighed, getting on his bike, gunning the engine a few times to clear away any excess shine puddled in the carb.
Doing the same, Ryan watched in approval. The boy knew machines. With each companion teaching the boy what he or she knew, Dean was getting good lessons in survival.
“Gaia save us, it’s here,” Krysty whispered, drawing the Webley.
A hundred yards down the road ahead of them, the spider was crawling off the roof of a radio station and onto the roadway. Standing twenty feet high, the bulbous torso of the mutie was striped like a tiger in yellow and black. The bristly head was oversized for the body, indicating possible intelligence, and its huge ruby eyes were perfectly stationary, making it impossible to tell in which direction the monster was looking.
Instincts honed from a hundred battles flared within the man, and Ryan reviewed their situation with lightning speed.