The others had stopped. Niall assumed they were taking their bearings until he heard the soft thud; it was unmistakably the sound of a body being dropped. Then, as he stepped clear of the gate, the paralysis struck him and held him frozen in mid-stride. As the moon emerged from behind the cloud, he saw the spiders who were waiting for them. They were standing on the opposite side of the road, and they looked like black statues. The moonlight was reflected from their blank eyes.
This time Niall experienced no fear. He even observed that although the paralysis affected his muscles — so that his arms felt dead as though their circulation had been cut off by a tourniquet — his eyes were still able to move normally, and his brain was totally unaffected. Moreover, since the thought mirror was still turned inward, he was able to intensify his concentration, bringing the familiar sense of focused power. As he did this, the paralysis in his arms and shoulders began to melt away; if he relaxed the concentration, it returned. It was a curiously satisfying sensation, like pushing back a tide of impotence. A more powerful effort pushed back the tide towards his feet, so that his whole body was free. It was clear that the spiders were totally unaware of what was happening.
Then one of the spiders moved towards them and he decided it was time to act. He raised the Reaper and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened, and he realised that the lever was still in the safety position. He pushed it forward with his thumb and pulled the trigger.
The spider disappeared. So did the railings behind it, and a large section of the façade of the building. The blue pencil of light was dazzling in its intensity, and the weapon made a distinct recoil against the muscles of his stomach. When he released the trigger, his eyes were still dazzled by the flash. The momentary silence seemed frightening and unnatural.
The other spiders — there were perhaps six of them — were still immobile, but now it was the immobility of shock. And as Niall turned the Reaper on them, he was already aware that it was unnecessary. Their will force had snapped at the moment the first spider disappeared. It was as if they were connected and the destruction of one affected all. This is why, although he pointed the weapon towards them, he made no attempt to pull the trigger. Their helplessness somehow disarmed him.
As he hesitated, another beam lanced through the darkness and struck the nearest spider, then travelled sideways, cutting them down before they could move. The effect was at once fascinating and sickening. The beam sliced them in half, like some immense knife, at the same time cutting through the railings behind them. A moment later, the smell of burning flesh filled the air. The top half of a spider’s body rolled into the gutter, while the legs and the lower part of its belly collapsed on to the pavement. There was no convulsive twitching, nothing to indicate death by violence. The bodies looked as though they had never been alive. All this had taken place so swiftly that it seemed instantaneous.
Doggins lowered the Reaper. He nodded at the weapon in Niall’s hands. “You turned it up too high.”
“I know.” The lever was on five.
“But thanks all the same.”
It was a signal for the others to surround him; some tried to hug him, some shook his hand, others patted him on the back until he winced. Their gratitude was overwhelming, both emotionally and physically — a measure of the terror it had replaced. None of them had ever experienced paralysis of the will, and the experience had shaken them more than the death of their comrades. Niall could understand this; it seemed a denial of the most basic human assumption: of control over the body. The experience was like a premonition of death.
“All right,” Doggins said, “that’s enough. We’ve got to move.” He was adjusting the lever on his gun. As he pressed the trigger, Niall closed his eyes involuntarily. When he opened them, the remains of the spiders had vanished; in their place, there was a shallow crater in the pavement. Niall asked:
“Wouldn’t it be better to take shelter in the Fortress until daylight?”
“Yes, but not in the Fortress. That’s the first place they’ll search. We’ll find a basement somewhere.” He turned to Milo. “Do you still want to bring Cyprian?”
Milo hesitated. “Whatever you say.”
Doggins pointed his Reaper at the corpse, then seemed to change his mind.
“Bring him along. We’ll try and hide him until we can get back.”
As they lifted the body, a few drops of rain fell on the pavement. In the windy blackness they could not even see one another; so they stumbled on in a chaotic group, frequently colliding but deriving a certain comfort from the physical contact. When a blast of cold wind indicated that they had reached a street corner, Doggins asked Niall: “Any idea where we are?”
“The town hall is over there.”
“All right. We”ll make for that.”
A glimmer of moonlight revealed a street running in a northerly direction. It was wide, and its buildings looked relatively undamaged. Because there were no cobwebs overhead, they marched in the middle of the road. But the weight of the corpse slowed their progress. After they had travelled only half a block, Doggins said: “Stop here. Put him down. I’m going to see if I can find a basement.”
They waited in the darkness, shivering in the wind that flowed past them like an icy current. A few moments later, there was a yellow flicker of light from below the level of the pavement. This was followed by the blue flash of the blaster. Then Doggins’ voice called: “All right. Bring him down here.”
He was waiting at the bottom of a flight of steps that led into the basement area. Behind him, a door stood open. As they entered, the rain began to fall in torrents. A gust of wind caught the open door and slammed it behind them.
The lamp revealed that they were in a large furnished room. The floor was carpeted, and there were tables, armchairs and a glass-fronted bookcase. Even Niall could tell that this had once been a comfortable flat. Now it smelt of dust, mould and decaying plaster. Yet the sound of the rain on the pavement, and the wind that shook the windows, induced in them all a sense of relief and comfort.
The window curtains were of a heavy, stiff material, and — unlike those in the barracks — untorn and undecayed. When these had been drawn, Doggins allowed them to light all the lamps. A heavy chair was lifted against the door to prevent it from blowing open — the Reaper had destroyed its lock. Then they attempted to make themselves comfortable and settled down to wait for the dawn.
All looked strained and exhausted, and Niall could see that some were close to breaking point. Only a few hours ago, they had been full of euphoria, amused and exhilarated at the thought of defying the authority of the spiders. Now three of their number were dead, and the rest were aware that they might never see their homes again. Yet none of them showed resentment; none seemed to blame Doggins for leading them into this grim situation. As he looked at their pale, tired faces, Niall felt admiration as well as pity.
It was when one of them took an apple from his pocket and began to eat that Niall remembered the food tablets; he produced the box from his pocket.
“Is anyone hungry?” They all looked up hopefully, but their faces fell as they saw the tiny brown capsules. Nevertheless, each took one; even Doggins, who at first waved them away impatiently, was induced to swallow one. Niall chewed his own, and within minutes experienced the wave of pleasure and relief as the warmth coursed down his throat, then slowly expanded until his stomach was filled with the comforting sensation of a hot meal. On the others, the effect was immediate. The air of listlessness vanished as the colour returned to their cheeks; suddenly, they were talking as animatedly as if the past few hours had been a dream.
Doggins asked: “Where did you get these?”
“From a machine.”
Doggins gave him an odd look, but said nothing.
The rest of the flat proved to consist of a kitchen and two bedrooms. The kitchen walls were covered with black mould, and the red floor tiles were half-buried in plaster that had fallen from the ceiling. But the bedrooms were surprisingly dry, and in these they found blankets, eiderdowns and pillows. They were intrigued by the clothes they found in the wardrobes, and some of them proceeded to try them on. There seemed to be a general agreement that the male garments of these ancient times — particularly the trousers — were funny as well as ugly, while the female dresses were altogether more practical.