The Last Of Her Kind Ch 06

Hi all! Annabelle here with Chapter 6 of 7!

I've gotten some really great letters from some of you, and just want to say thanks from the bottom of my heart. This story was outside of anything I usually write, and it's definitely been difficult to write some of the nuance of each character into it.

I suppose you are dying to see what happens next, so I won't keep you any longer. Make sure to check my bio for release dates or follow me. I always change the bio when I submit, for those of you who like who to check in, so watch for that.

Don't forget to rate, review and comment! It gives me liiiife!

Tracking the Spider

The flickering glow of the fire cast ominous shadows across the front of the library, but also gave him enough light to see by. Sliding the key into the lock, Darren let himself in, closing the massive door behind him.

It was only a minute later that he heard the wail of sirens, and another police cruiser showed up, followed by the fire department. Their efforts were valiant, but Darren knew there were no survivors to be found. Moving deep into the library, he dug around, looking for maps in the reference section.

It didn't take him long to find the one he needed. Pulling the slip of paper out of his pocket, he found a spot by one of the large bay windows and used the light of the fire to navigate. The coordinates went to some place in Oregon, so he ran back to the reference section to find a state map, then came back. Looking back outside, he saw that Louise now stood on the sidewalk, clutching tightly to her brother as the world burned down before them, the steeple now collapsing into the building. A crowd was gathering, and he hoped nobody got the bright idea to use the library as a command center or anything similar.

Tracing his finger along the state map, he frowned. The coordinates were in the middle of a large state park, Deschutes National Forest. In the middle of nowhere. It made sense, from a certain standpoint. Wherever this was, it was remote, and people would be unlikely to go there. He folded it up and slid it into his back pocket, then picked up the US map and looked over it.

"Not the roads, not the roads." It would make more sense for Ana to take a car, but she had left on foot, and he doubted she even knew how to drive one. If anything, she would be hitching a ride. But how and where? Train maybe? The nearest tracks were north of here, and they went into Washington. No, hitching a ride on a train made little sense.

Moving his finger along the map, he left to grab a pen, and then came back. If she stuck to wilderness, there were a couple of paths that made sense if she knew they might follow her. He drew a few possible routes, then looked at the map again. She was likely headed to Interstate 84, so where would she get on?

He tapped his fingers. There were two possibilities, but how quickly could he get there?

"If it was me, I would go here." Dwayne leaned over and tapped one of the towns just outside the forest. "Keep to the woods and then catch a ride."

"Nah, fuck that. She's got the advantage of terrain if she sticks to the woods." Hayden sat across from Darren, his feet up on a chair. "Think about it. How quickly can she move, anyway? Bet she can jump straight up in the air, maybe twenty feet."

"She'd be vulnerable along the highway though. Lots of open land for her to traverse. I bet she hitches a ride here." Dwayne took the pen from Darren and circled the town again.

"Fuck that. Straight line." Hayden leaned forward and took the pen from Dwayne and scrawled a path along the topography.

"Not a straight line," Little Mike added. He stood at the window, the eerie light of the fire illuminating the books behind him, but not Little Mike himself.

"It's a metaphor, you dick." Hayden made to throw the pen, but Dwayne took it and gave it back to his brother.

"Looks like you got some choices, little brother."

"Yes." Darren stared at the map, feeling the minutes go by. The front door of the library opened, and heavy footsteps echoed through the library. He knelt down, hiding beneath a table.

"Darren?" It was Sheriff Walters. Darren stood and saw the sheriff searching for him, his body illuminated by the flames outside. "Where are you, son?"

"Here." He waved, and Walters joined him. "She's headed to Oregon."

"But why?"

"Um... family, I think."

"That aunt of hers. You never saw a woman so fine." Walters grinned for a second, then went blank. "So what's the plan?"

"Find her first. Protect her from the men who did that."

"And then?"

"Depends on what she wants." He doubted the men worked alone, and there would be others. "She's headed somewhere safe." It wasn't a lie, but Darren didn't know if it was the truth either. He had no idea where they were going.

"Wel, that tears it." Walters looked at Darren. "How you gettin' there?"

"I, uh..." Darren scowled. "I can hitch a ride."

"Nonsense." Walters pulled a key from his pocket and handed it over. "You know where my house is, yeah?"

Darren took the key and looked at it. "A motorcycle?"

"Can't give you my cruiser, that'd be too obvious, and everyone knows my truck."

"But not the cycle?"

Walters frowned and then let out a sigh. "Bike's not mine, it's my son's. He... I can't bear to look at it, and I ain't ever gonna ride it. He bought it before he shipped out. Kept telling me he was gonna come home from the war and use it to cruise across America, maybe find himself a lady and put some grandbabies in her. I... uh..." He cleared his throat. "I think you're gonna need every advantage you can get, and you need to go soon. This whole town is gonna be lit up with Lookie Lous, and I want you out of here before dawn."

"Yes, sir." Darren pocketed the key.

"Also..." Walters swallowed, his eyes on the fire. "There's a bag with the bike, some of my son's things. I don't want them, so feel free to help yourself."

"Your son's things?"

"From the war. They couldn't bring his body back, but a squad-mate of his brought them when he came home. Poor kid was only nineteen and left an arm behind in Albany. I suppose that arm is still lying there, somewhere in the mud with my son. He thought he was doing me a kindness, but..." Walters suddenly looked older, the spirit sucked from him. "You can take those, too."

"Thank you, sheriff." Darren took the man's hand and shook it. "I had better go."

"Yes. I suppose you should." Walters looked out the window. "Give em hell, son."

"Yes, sir." Darren made to move, but Walters grabbed him by the arm.

"Take care of yourself. You bring that girl back to us, you hear?"

Darren nodded, unsure if he could keep that promise.

He snuck out the back and followed the river to avoid the streetlights. He wasn't sure who might be looking for him, or even what story Walters had given, but he couldn't afford to be seen. With every step, he could feel that feeling in his gut, the one that was both hot and cold at the same time.

It was rage. The last time he had experienced it was in a bar in Alabama. He had put at least three drunks in the hospital using skills he had honed on the battlefield to knock out a guy who had slapped a girl in a bar. The night had been hot and muggy, and the patrons of the bar had cheered on the local boys when they had dog piled Darren, but they were all soft, college boys who dodged the draft with money that they now wasted on beer and hot rods; fat college fucks who felt they were entitled to whatever life offered them, and he had made them pay before skipping town.

Jeffrey and Cyrus had tried to kill him and were now after Ana. He couldn't abide by it. His fists clenched, but Dwayne's hand squeezed his shoulder.

"Easy brother, save it for the mat." It was an old reference to their wrestling days, when Darren used to let his opponent's shit-talking get to him. It had been an awful habit back then, and he couldn't afford to let it get the better of him now.

He relaxed, letting the anger go. Cutting across a few roads, he was finally out where he could run, and he headed for the edge of town, where Walters lived. The sheriff had a long driveway hidden from his neighbors by trees and shrubs, and he stood on the sheriff's front porch, listening to the night around him. The insects were singing, the air full of their lullaby as he lifted the door to the garage.

There was a large tool bench in the back of the garage, surrounded by cardboard boxes. In front of it was a large object covered by a tarp.

Darren ripped the tarp off and heard Little Mike whistle appreciatively. It was a Harley, and still looked new, other than some dust on the seat. He put the key in the ignition and mounted it, his heart slamming against his chest. He twisted the key, but another hand covered his.

"Check the bag first," Dwayne reminded him, pointing to a dark green lump in the corner. It was a duffel bag, much like Darren's. He dismounted and went over to it, kneeling down to see what was inside.

"Shit," Hayden said, then chuckled. "It's nearly a full kit. Looks like it was hardly used."

Darren swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He was touching the belongings of a dead man, one who had died before Darren himself had set foot on Vietnamese soil. Digging through the contents, he pulled a canteen, a knife with a compass, and then a military jacket. He put the jacket on. It was a little too big, but it chased away the chill.

He stuck a few rations in his pocket and then found a few bucks at the bottom of the bag. Leaving behind what he didn't need, he got back on the bike and wheeled it out of the garage. Darren pushed it down the driveway, waiting until he was out on the road before starting the engine. It started without a problem, as if it had been carefully maintained. Walters said he had no use for it, but Darren wondered if the old man had been keeping it ready to go on the off chance its owner came home after all.

He kept it slow at first, getting a feel for the chopper beneath him. Picking up speed, he enjoyed the sensation of wind rushing through his hair, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn't been on a bike since before the war, when his buddy Eddie had bought one and they had taken turns on it all summer, cruising through town and trying to impress local girls.

"Eddie was a huge fuckwad, though," Dwayne whispered in his ear.

"Yeah, he was." On his way out of the other side of town, Darren caught a brief glimpse of the city limits sign. He hadn't been there very long, but it felt like he was leaving home all over again.

No, that wasn't quite right. Home didn't have to be a place. Sometimes it was the people you surrounded yourself with, for better or for worse.

He narrowed his eyes and hit the throttle. He needed to make up for lost time, to get to Ana before the others did. He could feel it in his blood, a longing with no explanation, a strong desire to put his life on the line for her. In their final moments together, she had spared him, proof that she was human enough.

And she deserved to survive.

"Where to?" Hayden asked, his voice a whisper in the wind.

Darren thought back to the map. There was a little town on the other side of the forest, not far from the highway. Hayden was probably right about Ana going straight through the woods, but even if she was, he could still check the town just in case. It was a hunch, a feeble whisper in the back of his mind, but he knew he should listen.

He blew onto the highway going nearly eighty, his eyes squinting against the wind.

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"Jesus H. Christ." Jeffrey's voice was little more than a whisper, but at least he could speak.

Cyrus, on the other hand, was absolutely gob smacked. They had used the pocket watch to follow Darren's timeline, taking turns on the trail while the other lagged behind. Jeffrey had puked twice, but Cyrus had held on, his stomach doing flip flops all the way through the long and twisted trail into the woods. Now, after climbing over large rocks in the dark, they were using flashlights to watch the mating habits of an Arachne in reverse.

"I don't... I just..." Cyrus shook his head. They had expected to see the arachne meeting up with the soldier, but nothing like this. He leaned over and retched, his last meal too long ago to give him much substance. Jeffrey knelt by his side to support him.

"Easy, brother. Easy." Jeffrey patted him on the back. "Just breathe. You got this."

Though the sight was sickening, what bothered Cyrus most were the implications. "She mated, Jeffrey. There will be more of them if we don't—"

"Easy." Jeffrey pulled Cyrus back up on his feet. "We're here now, and we can track her. Turn that fucking thing off."

"Right." Cyrus snapped the watch closed, and the vision of the Arachne mounting Darren faded from view. The nausea faded instantly, and he took a deep breath, the cool, night air soothing his throat. "We need to get to her, before she can lay her eggs."

"How long until that happens?"

"About three days, if I remember correctly." He thought back to the massive file he had gone over a dozen times before setting out to hunt the Arachne. "After mating, an Arachne typically eats her mate, not out of spite, but hunger. If she didn't eat the soldier, it means she either has food nearby, or she will have to hunt. That will slow her down and give us time to catch up." Pulling a cylindrical rod from his coat, Cyrus knelt on the ground. "See if you can find anything of hers. Fluid, chitin, spit, and we can use this."

"On it." Jeffrey swept his beam across the clearing and Cyrus joined in. Several tense minutes passed, and eventually Cyrus caught a glimmer of light reflecting on the ground. He knelt down and drew a dagger from his boot.

"What do you have?"

"Um..." Cyrus used the tip of the blade to lift the fluid from the ground. It was a ropy, opalescent substance that stretched several inches before snapping free of the hard ground. "No idea, but I'm sure it didn't come from our boy."

He slid open a notch in the tube and scraped the fluid inside, then flipped it over to turn a dial. The tube emitted no beam, but the area lit up with odd footprints that crawled all over the stone.

"Look around the edges, see if we can find an exit point," Cyrus told his partner.

Jeffrey circled around, then pointed up. A series of prints went up and over the stone.

"This is going to be frustrating." Grabbing a handful of stone, Jeffrey scrambled up wall and pulled himself to the top. "Bitch can climb."

"Help me up." Cyrus waited for Jeffrey to undo his belt. It was wrapped around the man's waist almost three times and easily covered the distance into the cave. Jeffrey lowered it buckle first, and Cyrus made a quick loop out of it and put it around his wrist. Jeffrey pulled, and Cyrus held on, walking his feet up the wall. Once at the top, he handed the buckle back, and Jeffrey slid it back through his pants. Pointing the cylinder forward, they followed the tracks until they disappeared over the edge of a large boulder. Tilting the beam upward, Cyrus spotted a handprint in the tree above.

"This is going to be a pain in the ass." He turned to Jeffrey, a large grin on his face. "But doable."

"Too bad we can't use the truck." Jeffrey knelt down and tightened the laces on his boots. "But I'm always up for a hunt on foot."

They wandered into the wilderness, ready for a fight.

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Ana cracked her eyes open, letting out a quiet yawn before flipping over and tumbling down through the forest canopy onto the ground below. Her legs splayed over the carcass of the deer she had eaten the night before, its shriveled husk twisted and barely recognizable. Beneath the deer was a pair of raccoons and a wrinkled fox. Yawning again, she rubbed her belly, feeling the muscles stretch uncomfortably beneath her skin.

The quickening had already begun. Her organs were shifting about to make room for the clutch she would produce, her fertilized eggs now swelling inside of her.

After leaving Darren behind, she had moved through the forest, doing her best to avoid the roads. The Order would be after her, and she had picked the rockiest terrain she could find. Even if they tracked her, no man could move across the rocks like she could. Deviating into the forest whenever possible, she weaved a pattern through the trees and rocks that would be nearly impossible to track, knowing that they would somehow find a way. They had magic on their side, after all, and she would need every advantage she could get.

However, the act of mating had made her ravenous, and she finally stopped to hunt, draining several animals before nodding off up in a tree.

She yawned again, her jaw cracking. She had been asleep for only three hours and was already hungry again. Extending her senses outward, the movement of a large animal could be felt across the ground, nearly a quarter of a mile out. Leaving the wheelchair behind, she took to the trees and tracked it down.

Excited that it could be a deer, she was extremely happy to discover the beast was a roaming black bear. The bear sniffed the air, sensing the danger but unable to place it. Ana waited for it to move beneath her, weaving the start of a large net. While comparable in strength to the bear, its claws and teeth could easily tear through her skin, and she didn't dare waste any energy on growing armor on her skin. She needed to remain hydrated and mobile, especially with the Order on her back.

The Order. Was that a problem that would resolve itself once she was on Emily's land, or would they wait her out, either finding a way in or luring her from her new home?

The bear let its guard down, sniffing at the ground in search of a snack. Ana dropped from above, neatly catching the bear and slinging the net over its head. Its thick fur prevented her from biting it right away, but her webbing had already restrained up the beast, its upper body now tangled up in the sticky web. It let out a roar of surprise, then growled in anger when Ana pinned it down with her legs and ripped out a hunk of fur by its neck.

She sank her teeth in, injecting it with the paralytic and digestive enzymes. The bear went limp, and she lifted it onto her shoulders and scrambled back into the tree and toward her campsite. Once back, she gathered up all of her gear, making sure that all the parts of her wheelchair were still there. She had nearly lost one of the front wheels while dangling from a cliff face and needed to keep her disguise intact.

Ready to go, she strapped the collapsed wheelchair to her back and then sank her teeth into the bear, sucking it dry while squeezing it with her arms and front legs. The sweet, buttery taste of bear fat filled her belly, and when she was finally done, she tossed its shriveled carcass on top of the others. Licking her fingers off, she went back into the trees, absently rubbing her stomach.

Even now, less than twenty-four hours after mating, she could feel the small lumps that were forming in her abdomen. Her clutch wouldn't be very large, she had been far too malnourished when she had finally given in to her urges.

Her stomach twinged, and she winced, rubbing the spot with a couple of fingers. Once the eggs came, then what? There was a strong instinctual drive to protect them, but did she really want to be the one to restore the Arachne race to the world? Her own sisters had been monsters in their own right, abducting travelers and vagrants to feed on them even at a young age. With her desire to mate finally quenched, her thoughts had been bathed in the ice-cold waters of clarity.

Logically, she should destroy them, but could she bring herself to do it? Rubbing her belly once more, she thought about the life that was developing within. Each egg was a potential lifeline, the answer to her own brand of loneliness. As a mother, could she instill her own values on her children, or would they be driven by instinct instead?