The Spider Pt 23

"How is she?"

Lynda poured the tea from the pot into the cups, and added milk to one for John, while leaving the other black for herself.

She carried the cups and saucers over to the kitchen table, putting one in front of John and taking her seat. She took a sip of the hot liquid.

"I think she's OK," John said, taking a sip himself. "Thank you. She's changing a lot still. Whatever is blooming in her is still blooming, I guess, and it's giving her growing pains."

"Are you sure she's OK?"

"No."

They both sat there silently and had their tea.

"You love her, don't you?" Lynda asked after a moment.

"I do," he said. "I reached inside her and found...

something

there. Something I had never suspected existed before, and I knew immediately that I had to be near it for the rest of my life."

Lynda reached out and put her hand on his.

John smiled back.

"I think you are just in love," she said.

"Maybe."

"So what now? What about your other big plan of shutting down the crime syndicates in this City? Taking them over, one by one, taking all their money from them and having them turn themselves into the police? Are you still going to do that?"

"I don't know. I think I have bigger problems. And now with

her..."

He shrugged.

"I mean, even if I thought I could still do that, I think that there's a good chance that Red Eyes or whatever sent that would kill me. And if they killed me, then they might be able to hurt

her.

"

"Yeah."

"I don't know if I can have that- I don't know if I can take that chance. I don't know what to do. I'm not sure if I can fight what is after me."

"I don't know either. Maybe you should run."

"You might be right."

They both fell silent, having their tea in the quiet safety of her kitchen, the snow falling gently outside on a sunny and beautiful day.

"John?" she said, finally.

"Yeah?"

She turned and looked him in the eyes.

"I love you, John," she told him. "You've given me everything. You

saved

me... saved all of us. I've had a safe and happy life because of you, and so has my family. The

others.

I owe you everything, and I want you to know, I love you for it. It's important to me that you know that."

"I do," he said, taking her hand firmly in his, giving it a warm squeeze. "I love you too, Lynda. I always will."

She stood up, putting her empty cup in the saucer. She started to pick it up, and take it to the sink. But she hesitated, and put it back on the table. It didn't matter.

"It'll wait," she said. "I have to get to work."

"Work," John said, as if hearing a forgotten concept.

"Work.

Right. Is there anything going on there that I should know about?"

Lynda put her coat over her shoulders.

"No," she told him. "Nothing to be concerned about. I'll take care of everything."

******************************

Lynda got to work, and unlocked the door of the office. She turned on her computer- she shut it down completely every day as she went home- and while it booted up, made the coffee. She made an entire full pot, and poured herself a cup.

She took the cup of coffee to her desk, and had a sip.

She set an alarm on her phone for a little less than an hour.

She took her purse, and opened it up, and took her pistol out. She turned the safety off, and laid it on the desk next to her phone.

She checked to see if any new email had some in, or if any new phone messages had arrived. None had.

Lynda picked up the phone from her desk, and called the City Police. She hit the three buttons of the extension that she needed.

"Hello, Officer," she said. She positioned the USB camera on her desk according to his instructions, made sure that he could see everything that she wanted him to see.

"You can hear OK?" she asked him. He said he could- he said he wanted to know more, where was she calling from where was she located? Was she in danger? He could have a squad car there in just a few minutes if she was.

That's not important. Just look, and listen, and record what you see. The rest of the information you will need to know will be arriving in your email inbox momentarily. You'll take it from there. I won't be calling you again.

She terminated the call.

Lynda read a review of a restaurant she had been thinking of going to since it had opened. It sounded nice, she thought. She thought it sounded like a very nice place to go and eat.

After a while, the alarm on her cell phone went off. It was time.

She unplugged the cord from her desk phone, it wouldn't ring any longer. She didn't want to be distracted by a bunch of panicked phones calls.

She picked up her cell phone, and called his number.

"Hi Lynda," John answered. "What's up?"

"Hi John," she told him calmly. "It's time for you to get out of my house now. It's about to become a very dangerous place for you, and I may never return there myself."

"What?"

"I was visited a little while back by a Detective Stern. I think you know him. He was accompanied by a woman who he said used to be the Power. That super-heroine? Who flew around and couldn't be hurt?"

"OK?"

"She looked different but this woman could fly and was very strong, I'll say that."

"Lynda-"

"No.

Listen.

I need you to shut up now and listen."

Lynda thought she could hear the ding of the elevator bell.

"They'll be here any minute now. They said they would kill me if I didn't tell them where you were. I didn't tell you so you wouldn't try to do anything. You won't make it here in time to save me and you can't anyway so don't even try."

"Lynda, wait!"

"No time. It's time for you to run, John. Take the woman you love and go

.

I'm going to do what I can to save you this time, John, but I may not be successful. So I need you to get out

now,

get in your car, and

run.

My house is about to become one of the most unsafe places in the entire world, John, and you need to get out now."

"Lynda, please..."

"Remember how I always loved you, John. Don't forget that."

Lynda disconnected the call, and turned her phone off.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," she said.

******************************

The Detective and the Fist entered the office. He had not forced himself into a very accurate human shape, for whatever reason, and had to bend his head down in order to step inside.

He was followed by the Fist, who was standing a little more upright than when Lynda had seen her last, walking a little more confidently. Or maybe she has just accepted what she is, Lynda thought to herself.

Regardless, the powerful woman's eyes were a little more sunken, and her back and sides were now sporting a garish latticework of small red cuts and scratches clearly visible. She walked as if she was in a certain amount of pain with every step. The Fist didn't smile, didn't say hello.

"You two look awful," Lynda said.

The Detective smiled garishly, and folded his body into the seat opposite Lynda. The Fist stood rigidly upright next to him.

"That's as may be, I guess," he said. "Your forty-eight hours are up, however. Are you prepared to tell me what I need to know?"

"I am," Lynda said. "John is at my house. He's there right now."

She slid a piece of paper across the desk towards the man.

"The address is right here."

The Detective reached out and took the paper, glanced at it, and put it in his pocket. He turned towards the Fist.

"See?" he said. "Sometimes they do tell me what I need to know. Unlike that idiot reporter you tried to help, back when you thought you were some kind of heroine, instead of the stupid bitch slave you know you are now."

He laughed at his own joke as the Fist lowered her head and looked at the ground, her face reddening. The Detective turned back towards Lynda.

"Well, I guess we'll go to your house and the Fist here can kill John unless he can be made to serve in some way. That'll tie up that loose end, one less scumbag criminal in this City. I've been wanting to scour him from the face of the earth since I became aware of him- I sent out Red Eyes to kill him over and over, and so far he's been able to get away. That ends today."

"You don't know shit," Lynda told him.

The Detective stood up and put his hat on his head.

"Maybe not," he said. "But, you've told me what I need to know. Looks like you can die of old age, Lynda, which is not an end that most people in this story are going to get."

Lynda leveled her pistol at the Detective.

"You might not get that ending either," she said, and squeezed off a shot, then another, then a third.

There was a flash of motion as the Fist launched herself at incredible speed into the path of the bullets, each one hitting her as she shielded her cowering Master. The Fist grunted in pain, and launched herself at Lynda, twisting her arm savagely, ripping the pistol from her grip.

Lynda screamed and fell to a knee, blinking back the tears as she clutched at her arm. She looked up to see the Fist crushing the pistol in a superhuman grip.

The Fist grabbed Lynda by her twisted arm, causing the woman to cry out in pain.

"What do you want me to do with her, Master?"

The Detective stood there for a moment, saying nothing, breathing heavily as he struggled to contain his fear. That was close, he thought. If my Fist hadn't have saved me- if she had just let Lynda kill me-

Finally, he reached out his long, distended arm, and gave his slave a gentle caress with his grotesquely long fingers.

"What do you know about that," he said quietly. He stood there for a moment, running his fingers over the slave's silver hair, looking at her deeply.

"Old age is overrated, Lynda," he said finally. "Slave, take our friend Lynda high up into the sky, and let her fly. Let her find her own way down."

After a few minutes, the Fist made her way back through the window, closing it behind here.

"Is she dead?" he asked.

"Well, she may not be

yet,

" the Fist replied. "She may not have landed yet. But when she does, she will be."

"That's a good girl," he said, looking intently at her.

"Yes, Master," she said quietly.

"There is certainly going to be a trap of some kind at her house. We'll have to be very careful when we go there."