Hi all! Here it is, the final chapter of The Last of Her Kind!
New to the story? Start at Chapter 1. This is the end of a novel, and the story has been building to this.
I would like to thank you, the readers, for being so supportive of this story. I know it wasn't for everybody, but I certainly I hope I captured a few of you in my web. This tale started as an attempt at a short story, but Ana and Darren deserved far more than just twelve thousand words, and I've been very pleased with where this has ended up.
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When Worlds Collide
Leaving the wheelchair behind in that roadside diner had felt a lot like losing a friend, leaving an empty feeling in Ana's gut as she scurried across the roof of the restaurant. The human Ana had pretended to be was encapsulated by the battered conveyance now sitting empty in the bathroom, waiting quietly to be discovered and eventually discarded.
Tears formed in her eyes as she snuck down and through the parking lot, her heart pounding in her chest. She was truly alone, and officially scared, her stomach churning while her eggs formed.
When she had heard Darren's voice, she had been so startled that she almost didn't answer. She didn't deserve such a stroke of luck, didn't deserve his help. Yet he had insisted, tucking her away in the back of a stolen station wagon and taking to the open road. They had ridden in silence while she slept in the back, her hands across her slightly swollen belly. She wished she could ask her mother or a sister what to expect, knowing only that the time to lay them was coming fast.
Occasionally a bump in the road would wake her, and she would open her eyes and look out the rear window, her gaze on the night sky. It had been awhile since she had seen so many stars all at once, and she watched them, the vibrations of the road helping her to relax. Ana spun a few small webs to make herself comfortable, using them like a makeshift hammock.
The bag of books was the only thing she had brought with her, except for the roll of money in her pocket. While awake, she looked at the covers of the books, barely able to make out the shapes in the dark of the car. These stories typically had a happily ever after, and she wondered if maybe Darren's arrival was a sign that she could have one, too. He had come for her, despite being told not to. Why? What was so special about her that he would risk his life? Why not go the other way, forget he had ever met her, move on?
Was it her? Did he really like her? Darren was damaged, there was no doubt about it, but did that damage mean he couldn't see her for who she really was? Or did it mean he could see past her monstrous nature? It was hard to tell.
Or could it be the eggs? Did he feel responsible for the life growing inside of her? He would probably be the first man to see his own children hatch, save for maybe the scientists that had experimented on the Arachne during World War Two to make super soldiers. Her mother had rarely talked about it, but Ana knew that there had been a breeding program. Jews had been forced to breed, and the resulting children had refused to take orders. Thinking it was a deficiency of race, the Germans themselves had transitioned to Aryan blood, hoping that the brood would take orders.
They didn't. The Germans had disguised the resulting bloodbath as an Allied bombing, and that's usually where the story from her mother ended.
"There's no way it could be them." Darren whispered from the front seat. It was like he was speaking with someone, and Ana lifted her head, wondering if she had tuned out something else he had been saying.
"What?" Her glasses had gone crooked, and were now smudged with fingerprints. Pulling them away from her face, the world came to life around her, and she looked out the back window of the wagon at an approaching light. Over the lamp of the motorcycle behind them, she could make out the intense faces of her pursuers. "Oh shit!"
When the Order drew near, she watched them pull alongside the car, but something wasn't right. Though her eyes saw them pull ahead of the car, the sound coming from outside the wagon told another story. As the figures in front of the car exploded into motes of light, she watched them appear out of the darkness, the wand in Cyrus' hand glowing brightly when he lifted his arm to fire it.
"On your left!" Her words weren't quick enough for him to dodge the blast, but he was fast enough to slam the wagon into the bike just as the spell went off. Darren lost control of the car and was soon driving down the rocks, the car flipping. Ana got tossed around, but her instincts took over, her legs splaying out to support her weight. Her heightened senses seemed to slow time, and she watched her books fluttering around inside the car along with Darren. The pores on her body opened, coating her upper torso and hardening into an inky black shell.
Seeing an opening, she grabbed Darren by the shoulders and yanked him into the backseat. Smashing a window with one of her legs, she timed her jump so that the two of them were launched skyward, falling through the darkness. The car stopped its descent, smashing into sharp rocks and flooding the air with the cancerous smell of gasoline.
Wrapping Darren with her arms and front legs, her other six splayed out and they rolled across the ground together like a giant tumbleweed. Pain shot up from one of her legs when it broke, and then more pain when the tip of another leg got wrenched free in between a pair of rocks.
They came to a halt, and Ana let out a shriek of rage, dropping Darren to inspect the damage. She had lost the leg at the joint, so it wouldn't slow her much, but her broken leg had cracked higher up. Putting any weight on it would be a bad idea.
They needed to move. Looking over her shoulder, she saw some distant hills just north of there. The treeline was distant, but if she could make it, they would have a chance. She had no idea how the Order had fared, but knew for a fact that Darren made solid contact with the bike before the spell had gone off. If, by chance, the two of them had survived, they would still be busy scraping each other off the pavement right now.
Darren groaned, but Ana didn't have time to check him. Setting him down long enough to strip off her shirt, she slung him over her naked shoulder and ran. The black armor on her body made her slower, but it would also make her harder to see under the stars. It would be harder to track her at night, but until she made it to the trees, she didn't need her pale skin acting as a giant bullseye.
Gasping for air, a fearsome cramp spread across her belly. Crouching down, she placed her free hand on her gut and tried not to cry out. With her fingers, she could already feel the outline of one of her eggs. She set Darren down and stared at him. If she left him behind, he would probably slow the Order down enough that she could make a clean getaway, find somewhere to hunker down and lay her eggs. Instead, he was slowing her down right now, impeding her ability to survive.
She almost left him, the urge to flee so strong that her heart was racing. He had come for her, saved her when she needed it the most, put himself in harm's way just to be with her. Leaving him behind would be advantageous for survival, but living with her actions after would be difficult. Growling, she slung him over her shoulder again and continued forward, her busted leg folding up against her belly, resulting in a staccato cadence.
"Semper fi, Darren." She didn't think he was even in the marines, but it was the only motto from the military that she knew. Carrying him up the sloping hills, she saw the light of her own shadow just as a wave of heat and sound rolled over her. Crouching down against the grass, she looked back to see that the station wagon had become a funeral pyre. Horrified at the destruction they had left behind, she realized that she could make out the shape of two men standing up by the road.
"Shit." Clutching her gut with one hand and Darren with the other, she ran.
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"Fuck." Jeffrey gazed down at the burning wreckage of the station wagon, blood trickling down his face. "I really hope they were still in there."
"We haven't been that lucky in weeks." Cyrus sat down on a rock and watched the inferno below. He had smacked his head when the bike had gone off the road, his magic saving both of them at the last second. He probably had a minor concussion, but there was little that could be done about it now. They were miles from anywhere, and couldn't take any chances letting the Arachne get away. "Can you see anything from here?"
"No. Fire's too bright." Jeffrey scanned the countryside. "If they made it, I'm not going to be able to see them from here. We have to get past the wreck, let our eyes adjust."
"Might as well check it out." Cyrus stood on wobbly legs and walked down the steep hill. He felt like he was going to barf. "Keep your eyes out."
"You know I will." Jeffrey flicked his wrist, his sword unfolding. "I really want to carve this bitch up and call it a day. Maybe take a small vacation somewhere with a beach."
"Florida?" Cyrus fought a grin. Every time Jeffrey went on vacation, it was to a cozy little villa in Florida. He would pound beers all day long, starting shortly after breakfast and going until just after a big steak dinner.
"Bet your ass." Jeffrey picked his way down the rocky slope, pausing occasionally to offer Cyrus a hand. The heat from the burning car was intense, and they stayed well away from it in case it blew. Scouring the perimeter, it didn't seem like anybody was in the car or nearby it.
"Find anything?" Cyrus called out.
"No." Jeffrey was circling to the other side, clutching his sword.
Cyrus used his wand as a flashlight, looking along the ground for footprints, blood, anything he could use to find them. He kicked something soft with his foot, and knelt down to find a small paperback novel.
"You got something?" Jeffrey asked.
"No." Cyrus flipped through the romance novel real quick, uncertain why it was even there. It must have belonged to the owners of the station wagon. Once the two of them had realized that Ana had fled, they had run outside to find an upset couple searching the parking lot for their car. Jeffrey had used his fake badge to get their car keys, knowing Cyrus could use them to cast a spell.
It had been Jeffrey's suggestion to take the Harley, and once they were away from the diner, it just took a little magic to find the station wagon's trail. The words on the pages of the book in his hand swirled in his vision, and he threw it back down on the rocks, fighting the urge to puke again.
"So if I was a pregnant spider bitch who just got tossed out of a vehicle, where would I go?" Jeffrey stood next to Cyrus now, the flames from the car reflected in the blade of his sword.
"Somewhere else?" Cyrus scanned the horizon, then looked down the road. "I don't see anywhere obvious."
"I might. C'mon." Jeffrey pulled Cyrus to his feet, half dragging him away from the road. Cyrus was impressed that nobody had come to check on the fire yet; it was just another testament to how far in the middle of nowhere they were. The night air felt wonderfully cool away from the fire, and they gazed at the distant hills.
"That's a lot of ground to cover," Cyrus said, finding a rock to sit on.
"Maybe. You wait here, fix yourself up. I'm going to look for tracks."
Cyrus nodded, happy for a chance to just sit with his broken thoughts. He dug through his pockets, eventually finding a small metal tube. Twisting it open, he frowned at the yellow pills that spilled out. They were a special blend formulated by the Order, and would knock down the pain banging around in his head. However, his ability to control his magic would diminish accordingly.
"Fuck it," he muttered, tossing back a pair of pills. As it was, his head hurt so bad he would probably blow his own face off. Magic required concentration, and if the station wagon hadn't struck him at the tail end of his last spell, they would already be digging a pair of graves for Darren and Ana.
Jeffrey was gone for almost an hour before he came back, his features pinched. He said nothing to Cyrus and kept going to look in the other direction. Time was precious, and they needed to catch another break, and soon.
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Darren floated through a fog of pain, the world around him just a collection of shadows that reached for him, occasionally scratching at his flesh. One particularly long appendage grabbed hold of his wrist and then broke apart in his fingers when he tried to yank it off with his other hand. The shadow's flesh felt cold and stiff, and it wasn't until he squeezed it that he realized he was holding a leaf.
The shadows rustled, and his stomach flip-flopped inside of him, and then impact. He tumbled to the ground unharmed, and finally got a good look at his surroundings. The trees around him obscured most of the night sky, and the air was filled with gasps of pain. He held his breath, trying to hear what might be nearby, and realized the gasps weren't from him.
"Ana?" He stuck his hand into the inky black in front of him, his fingers closing on something cool and hard. When she lifted her face, the stark white of her flesh made her seem a ghost, and he almost yelled in fright.
Her face twisted up in agony, and she crumpled to the ground, her legs splaying out.
