“Follow me,” he ordered in a normal tone of voice. Climbing onto the bike, he started to roll forward so slowly, that he needed to drag his boots along the road to keep the vehicle upright.
“Slow as possible,” Ryan added, staying in motion. “Nothing that big can change directions quickly. We get close, then hit the gas and roar right past the motherfucker on the berm.”
“And drop a few of these in our wake,” J.B. said, easing a gren from his munitions bag.
“Got any Willy Peter?”
“Nope.”
“Damn. Then use whatever you got,” Ryan said.
Turning toward Dean, the man gestured at the web. “Give it something to worry about aside from us.”
The boy nodded and retrieved a Molotov from the padded saddlebag. Holding it ready to throw, he watched as the rest of the companions began creeping forward on their bikes, boots dragging. As the spider began to start toward them, Dean quickly ignited the oily rag tied around the neck of the bottle and smashed it on the concrete at the middle of the web. The Molotov crashed into a fireball, blue flames licking at the thick strands.
Keening loudly, the giant spider rushed for the blaze, and the companions separated to roll past the huge mutie. As they came alongside, they each drew weapons but nobody fired or made any sudden moves. A pungent wave of putrescence followed the creature as it scuttled by, the reek of honey sweetness and rotten meat almost making them gag.
Once past the norms, the spider dashed for the precious web. Crackling loudly, the flames were commencing to burn through the lower cable, the silky ropes above charring badly. In frantic haste, the spider crawled onto the web, snipping lengths free with its mandibles. In only a few moments, a ragged patch of smoking material fell to the ground, and promptly burst into flames, the silky material sending off greenish smoke.
Now angling its head, the insect keened again in a lower tone and crawled off the web to charge toward the departing norms.
“Move!” Ryan shouted. He twisted the grip on the handlebars to the last stop, and the Harley lurched forward.
As the rest of the companions hit the gas, gray smoke poured from under the spinning rear tires until they caught, and then the machines shot forward. But the spider was only fifty yards behind, and closing fast. The Harleys were slowly building speed, but so was the spider.
Shifting to the highest gear, J.B. pulled the gren and used his teeth to peel off the safety tape. Grabbing the pin with his other hand, the Armorer yanked it loose and tossed the HE charge at the oncoming creature.
“Shotgun them,” he ordered, wheeling to the other side of the bypass and dropping another. “No groupings!”
A rain of grens arched over the companions to hit the concrete road, and bounce toward the spider. Moving with incredible agility, the mutie dodged the pattern of spheres and was past the first gren when it detonated. Zigzagging, the spider nimbly maneuvered past the grens, the rest exploding in ragged order, throwing out great clouds of black smoke to mix with the green fumes of the burning silk.
The friends fired a flurry of rounds at the mutie as it snapped its mandibles at the rear bike carrying Jak and Doc. The LeMat boomed twice, but the .44 mini-balls did no visible damage to the creature.
Spitting curses, Ryan pulled out a gren and started to slow, attempting to reach a position where he could drop the gren and ace the mutie, but not Jak and Doc.
As it tried again, Doc fired the LeMat steadily until realizing that the creature was dropping farther behind with each passing second. In triumph, the old man gave a shout in Latin as the beast began to fall behind the motorcycles, and then receded into the distance.
SLIDING BACK into formation, the companions reduced their speed and put a couple more miles under their tires before they stopped watching for the mutie.
“Need an armored tank to chill that thing,” J.B. stated grimly. “Something that size would toss an APC around like a kitten.”