Curse of Arachnaman (15 page)

Most people had escaped harm because they were all at work. However, those who stayed behind, like little kids and grandparents, were victims. They'd been stung after being held down by the same webby stuff that was used at the Dog-in-a-Bun. Most of them had turned into fully-developed human arachnids by the time the superheroes arrived.

"What does that mean, ‘fully-developed human arachnids'?” I demanded because Ms. Bailey, Sergeant Vitus Bone, witnesses, etc., wouldn't explain what that meant. How did they look? I kept thinking of Vincent Price in
The Fly
except that, in the movie, he had a teeny-tiny human head attached to a fly's body instead of a spider's body. Seriously, that was beyond mental.

I thought about the victims at the mall attack. I remembered that some of them were stung and were on their way to turning into human arachnids, according to reports, but that was way different from what I was hearing now. Intervention happened at the right time then. For today's attack, it was too late.

And why would the new supervillain want to turn them into half-human, half-spiders? Did he operate like the Shadow Puppet, trying to transform innocent people into an army of killer spiders with human heads?

"One final item,” Ms. Bailey said, tossing her hair back, her earrings clicking from the dramatic flourish. Was there such a thing as a neck job in the creepy world of cosmetic surgery? Because Ms. Bailey's throat seemed longer than usual, but it could have been because her neckline was pretty low. She was seriously pushing the envelope there, and I was surprised that she still had a job. “Someone left a mark of identification on the wall of one of the victims’ apartment units. It was sprayed-on greenish slime, from what's been described by police officers, and it said, ‘No more. Arachnaman.'” She stared hard at the camera and gave a solemn nod. “Ladies and gentlemen, our new threat has a name."

After dinner, I waited by my phone in case Peter decided to call me, but he didn't. I figured that with this incident, he and the heroes were now up to their ears with work. I also tried calling Mrs. Zhang's takeout place repeatedly, but the line was busy each time. I really hoped that she and her husband were okay. I'd have to run over there the next day and see how things were with them.

By the way, Liz made a formal request with Mom and Dad to have me banned from the kitchen for the rest of my life.

I couldn't swing by Mrs. Zhang's on my way to Brenda's shop because Dad drove me to my tutorials on his way to work, the whole time nagging me about my detention.

"Just because you're being tutored, Eric, it doesn't mean special treatment,” he huffed behind the wheel while I slumped in the passenger's seat, sulking. “What were you thinking, kicking that poor boy the way you did?"

"Dad, have you ever been given a bear hug by an Indian goddess with ten arms?"

There was a good-sized pause that followed my question. “Point taken, but did you have to kick him there? A yell would've been good enough."

"It was literally a knee-jerk reaction. I didn't have time to think. If that were the real goddess, I probably wouldn't be here with you right now. I'd be in the morgue, dead from fright and any kind of cosmic spell-thingie she might've cast on me. I might even be missing body parts, who knows?” Oh, that was a real beaut. Those words just rolled off my tongue like slippery jelly.

Dad sighed as he turned the car into the street where Brenda's shop was located. “I have to agree with your mother. You really
are
a drama queen, son."

"Don't blame me,” I grumbled. “I was the one who inherited the gene pool.” The car finally stopped in front of the antique shop, and I stared at it, wondering how many other kids were in bizarre schooling situations like me. Probably zero because I was totally made of fail. “Detention's after school,” I said with a tired sigh. “I guess I won't be back home till five or something. Unless I run away and spare you all the trouble of having a boy who's probably too bright for his own good."

"Good grief, Eric, go to school."

Okay, that was worth a shot.

The buzzword of the day was Arachnaman. Everywhere I turned, I saw people talking nervously about this psycho. Local newspapers had that name splashed in ginormous letters across the front pages. I went inside the shop and found Brenda taking care of customers. I waved at her as I walked past the counter, and she nodded at me.

My “classroom” was the same back room that Brenda and Dr. Dibbs used after the Trill incident, where they checked me for abnormal readings and residual stuff from the Noxious Nocturne. They set it up for me, with an office desk for Dr. Dibbs and a separate study table and chair for me, which stood at the opposite end of the room. Dr. Dibbs wasn't there yet, so I just dropped my bag, took my seat, and pulled out my notes.

So I could, you know, pretend like I was really interested in my lessons and not show that I'd rather have my toenails ripped out with surgical tweezers than go over another craptastic social studies lesson. When Dr. Dibbs finally showed up, he looked really grim and distracted. He went over my lessons with me, but everything seemed mechanical and automatic, and he didn't appear to notice. He just rattled on and on about history and then literature and then gave me an hour to practice sketching, etc. I sure as hell noticed it, but I figured that it wouldn't be a good idea to say anything about it. Besides, I already knew what his response would be: “Keep your mind fixed on your lessons, young man, and ignore everything else. It's too dangerous. You know how it is.” Yeah, I knew. Been there, done that.

But still! Couldn't an ex-supervillain sidekick-wannabe offer some help in dangerous cases like Arachnaman? I seriously could've worked like Freddie, doing undercover stuff though I don't have the advantage of masking powers. I mulled over that for some time, and before long it was my turn to be distracted. It was a good thing that my final lessons were Geometry and then Chemistry, so I didn't have any trouble having all that information fly over my head. I didn't even bother.

The clock struck 2:00, and I just watched Dr. Dibbs sift through his folder of handouts, which meant homework. Damn.

"So how are things with Sentry work, sir?” I piped up.

"The Sentries are alive and well and healthy, thank you, Mr. Eric. That's all you need to know."

I sighed, drumming my fingers on my study desk. “So...is it possible for me to, you know, help out with undercover work? Since I've already seen how it is on the other side, don't you think that I might have something to offer the superheroes and the Sentries?"

He paused and stared at me, frowning through his glasses. “Young man, I do believe you've forgotten what we've told you about the Sentries."

"I know, I know, but I want to help!"

He kind of softened up and smiled at me. “I understand, but the Sentries work on their own, with no need for outside help. Stay away from trouble, sir, because that's the best thing you can do for your family's sake. And your friends'.” He paused. “And Calais'."

By the way, detention involved getting my homework done while being spoiled with tea and scones from Brenda's pantry. I didn't expect that at all. I should've gotten into trouble more often, I guess.

I took a quick break from journal writing because I needed a snack. It was also kind of an awkward moment for me to cut out of my room like that, but I found out that Scanlon was due to stop by to take Liz out for a date, so I figured that I should get my ass downstairs real quick, gather my supplies, and barricade myself in my room before he showed up. I got back to find my window shut even with the relatively warm weather outside. My lamp was moved to my desk, and so were my journal and pen set. I thought at first that Peter somehow managed to sneak in and rearrange my private space, but he was nowhere to be seen, and when I went downstairs to get something to drink, I ran into Mom, who was walking out of Liz's room.

"I just closed your window, honey,” she said.

"Why? It's not raining or cold."

"Safety. People are now being attacked in their own homes. Remember yesterday? I might have your window latch replaced, too. I checked it, and it felt a little loose and unsafe."

"But I don't have a ventilation system in my room! Remember? I'm always the one who's frozen solid in the winter and a soggy mess in the summer!"

"Do you need a ventilation system to be attacked?"

"Aww, Mom..."

"Eric...” I didn't have to say anything more. She gave me that look again. Major suckage. I'd have to come up with a backup plan that would keep both Mom and me happy. I should've consulted some online interior decorating sites for ideas. Anyway, maybe that was a good thing in the end. I guess it was time for my room to have a bit of a makeover.

Also, there was Freddie, and there was Mrs. Zhang. Apparently some cosmic conspiracy was working against me in my quest to ditch bingo night. I wondered if that was what people meant when they said that Mercury was in retrograde.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Peter picked me up from “school” today. It was a total surprise, and it was because Renaissance High's faculty had a meeting. I was all resigned to another Peter-less day and another day completely isolated from my superhero friends, who'd be combing the streets of Vintage City for clues on Arachnaman. I stepped out of the back room, and Brenda yelled out from the shop area.

"Hey, Eric! Visitor!"

I thought at first that it was Liz. Didn't know why, but she crossed my mind first. Then I saw Peter sitting on the same bar stool I usually sat on, smiling and chatting up Brenda. I nearly did a swan dive on him. Seriously, I could've done it, too, based on my calculations regarding physical distance and hormone levels, but I played it cool and just held up a hand, saying, “Hey, how's it going?” Pretty suave, no?

He slid off the stool and gave me a kiss. I guess he felt safe around Brenda, who pretended to be occupied by something on the ceiling the whole time we vacuumed each other's tonsils out, nearly tripping over some fancy coffee table and falling down, all tangled up. Too bad she couldn't stare at the ceiling for an hour straight because I wanted to do Peter right then and there. I guess I wouldn't have cared, regardless, had it not been for Brenda's warning: “Ahem! Water hose time! I've got a business to run, kids!” Of course, I was dazed and horny beyond words when Peter let me go, and I guess I wasn't very subtle about it, either, because when I turned to Brenda, she cocked an eyebrow and shook her head.

"Back room's off-limits, kiddo,” she said and then jerked her head to the door. “Go on, horny toads. Enjoy the afternoon."

Peter thanked her, took my hand, and hurried out the door. “I really shouldn't get anywhere near you if I haven't seen you in a while,” he panted when we stumbled out into the sunshine and warm air. I nearly did a cartwheel. Peter was feeling horny as hell? Like me? Score, baby! We paused after crossing the street, staring at the sky and calming ourselves down in the middle of pedestrian traffic. Nope. Didn't work for me. I still wanted to do him on the spot.

"Can we go home? My family's at work right now. They won't be back till around five,” I offered. Okay, I pled. I was practically on my knees, begging him to go home with me, so I could, you know, do him.

He looked disappointed. I was torn between heartbreak and flattery. “I can't, Eric. I'm sorry. I only have less than an hour to be with you. We still have to go out on a real date, you know. Remember? I didn't even bring my car."

God, yeah, I remembered. That was a rain check that was just screaming to be honored. I had a pile of used towels and a set of crusty bed sheets to prove it. I grudgingly agreed to stay chaste, in the loosest possible sense, that afternoon and went to a small deli a few blocks down for afternoon sandwiches. There, in as quiet a voice as I could manage, I tried to quiz him about Arachnaman and the recent attacks.

"It's insane,” I said, my voice nearly a whisper. “What does he want? Mr. Berkowitz wasn't doing anything. He was just trying to earn a living. And those people at the Yee Apartments...grandparents and kids? What the hell?"

Peter shook his head, looking angry and stricken at the same time. “There's a common thread in these attacks, Eric. We're still trying to piece things together..."

"And what about those human arachnids? No one's talking about what they look like and stuff. Do you know? They don't look like Vincent Price, do they?"

Peter looked a little confused for a moment. “Um, no. Are they supposed to? They look like—God, I can't describe it—just imagine a person who's got spider qualities mixed in with his DNA, like, in a pretty bad way. When I say ‘bad,’ I don't mean ‘awful.’”

It was my turn to blink. “You're not helping."

"Think, um, cheese ball.” He grimaced. “God, I feel bad for saying that, but there it is."

"Uh-huh. Okay.” I watched him intently, and he merely shrugged and muttered, “total cheese ball."

Apparently Peter really couldn't figure out a better way of conveying it. The cops and the mayor sure as hell didn't want anyone to know, but one thing was sure—those “human arachnids” couldn't do much but sit in one place and look around them blankly, according to Peter. I asked if it was like they were lobotomized, and he said that their behavior was sort of like that.

I was too grossed out and horrified for those poor victims to ask any more. I even forgot to ask about Mr. and Mrs. Zhang, being so caught up and practically gagging on what I was trying to picture in my mind.

"They're okay, though,” Peter offered, after a long silence. “They're all kept in a holding-place, with the Sentries working on an antidote to get them back to normal. No one died, and it looks like no one's in any danger of dying because of the transformation. I guess we'll have to count that as a blessing. This Arachnaman jerk doesn't know much about full biological manipulation."

"What about their families?” That was a doozy. Most didn't want their loved ones separated from them. Who could blame them? Grandparents and children separated from the rest of the family over what? Some psycho's idea of fun and games? Unfortunately, they had to have a long talk with city officials and leaders of the Chinese community, and they all managed to agree on something because the victims currently are somewhere else, completely quarantined. I think one of the things they agreed on was that the family could arrange to see them during the healing process. Plus they weren't supposed to say a word about it, or at least there was some procedure that would be used to ensure that no one talked.