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Archivists were—by nature—curious. You had to be if you were to assemble, catalogue and preserve highly valuable collections of historical information for a living. And when your old friend Eugene had called to invite you to a desolate island for a spot of ‘monster hunting’ , of course you were going to let your curiosity get the better of you.
But as they say: curiosity killed the cat.
Well, death hadn’t claimed you quite yet. But it was damn close.
Adjusting yourself on a tree branch you had barely managed to scramble up to, you glanced down at the poor, broken down train you had grown abnormally attached to; probably because it had kept you alive on this God forsaken island for so long—not to mention the sick purple paintjob you had bestowed upon it. Eugene would have killed you if he’d seen the sorry state the poor thing was in now.
Unfortunately, like your old pal, the train had just taken one hit too many and had reached the end of the line. Luckily for you, it had slowed to a stop near the thicket instead of out in the open plains; giving you one last chance to fight for survival.
Not literally; for how was one supposed to fight a goddamn demon spawn spider train from the fiery depths of Hell?
Instead, here you were, up a tree, in the middle of nowhere, while your doom prowled below as he patiently waited for you to give yourself up to his awaiting jaws.
But what Charles didn’t know is that you were unwaveringly patient too, and that you were simply going to wait up here until he eventually went away and use whatever metal scrap you had to fix up your train and continue on your way towards the temple with the eggs and commence the battle of the ages, liberate the island and save your museum from going under.
And get revenge for Eugene.
You glared down at the grotesque creature as he attempted once again to climb up the tree to get to you; the brush was too thick for him to break through, and the bark was slick with rain, making it an impossible climb for such a hefty beast.
He had nearly succeeded in claiming your life when he opted for brute strength instead and rammed himself into the thick trunk to bring the whole tree down—thank God its gangly roots seemed to cling firmly into the ground, steadfast in staying upright—it reminded you of the houses of Aranearum; perhaps the residents had built them from this very same wood.
Charles’s last resort was to attempt to shake you out of the tree by placing four of his limbs as far up into the branches as he could reach and whacking them with all his might. It was almost amusing to watch, like a cat that was frustrated that it couldn’t quite reach the bird it was hunting. You only hoped Charles wouldn’t try leaping up into the air and snatching you up with his claws, shoving you into his grinning maw and never to be seen or heard from again.
You shook your head to rid yourself of such morbid thoughts. No, you weren’t going to die here today, not to that... monstrosity .
Not when you had a promise to keep.
Paul had grown so much since you had last seen him; nearly knee-high he was! So much time had flown by since then. You had to wonder why Eugene had decided to move to this derelict island in the first place. His reason being to get away from the stresses of the capitalistic society that they had grown up in and raise his son in an idyllic nature setting so that they may live a nice, peaceful life singing Kumbaya or whatever.
And look where that got him.
Sighing, you looked up at the grey overcast sky as thunder rumbled softly in the distance. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell Paul that his father was dead, he had just assumed that the old man had decided to stay on the mainland instead of coming back to fight Charles, and you had went along with it, promising yourself, and Eugene, that you would be the bearer of bad news later, when all this Charles nonsense had died down. Only...perhaps it was you who was going to be the one dying soon, judging by how irate the demon spider train was becoming.
Pfft... ’demon spider train’ ...it still sounded so hilariously made up. Like one of those funny pictures that the kids these days like to mash together and post online. What were they called? Mee-mee's? Something like that.
You were beginning to think that maybe once you died, your old colleagues would rearrange what was left of your mangled corpse, stuff you and put you next to the dinosaur exhibit, because you certainly felt like one.
A disgruntled snarl suddenly caught your attention as Charles bared his fangs while he stared up at you with those glazed over white orbs of his; unseeing and yet seemed to bore straight into your soul. This was the first time you could just properly stare back at him since you weren’t frantically running for your life or aiming poorly at him with those ridiculously large guns the island’s residents kept gifting you with.
And boy, he was...and you hated to use this term given the terrible ordeal he had put you through, but he was magnificent .
Ugly? Sure. Malevolent? Absolutely. But the researcher in you couldn’t help but admire—and question—the physiology of Charles. Was he really part train, part spider? Or perhaps he simply used the train as a shell like a crustacean? Would he shed that shell once he grew too big for it and use another?
Would he use your train?
As if the creature were reading your mind, Charles eventually grew bored of staring menacingly at you and turned his back on you to saunter over to your smoking companion. He gave it a light smack with one of his legs and paused for a moment to glance over his shoulder, as if waiting for your reaction.
Was he...was he testing you?
It seemed that he was, as he hit it with a lot more force this time, making you flinch. That train was the only thing that was going to keep you alive while Charles was still on this island. You intended to fix it as soon as he lost interest but that was going to be nigh impossible if the bloody thing ended up getting completely pulverised.
“H-hey...!” You called out weakly, though it was enough to grab Charles’s attention. “You...you stop that now!”
The unimpressed look the demon gave you was enough to put you to shame. And unsurprisingly it gave him an incentive to keep going, his grin growing larger and more brazen with each whack, stab and slam as if to say, "What are you gonna do about it, huh? Come on down here, I dare you.”
You almost did, if only to protect your trains’ honour.
But there was bravery and there was stupidity; and you had neither trait. So, you opted instead to grab a few pine-cones and throw them down at him. It did nothing but you swore you heard a couple of exasperated grunts as Charles glared up at you with murderous intent once more.
Now it was your turn to grin.
That seemed to really do it as a well-placed body slam nearly sent you tumbling to the ground. Grabbing onto the trunk for dear life, it wasn’t until the tree had ceased shaking that you noticed the bag that you had hung on a nearby branch—since it was getting heavy for your poor old shoulders— was sliding down.
‘Shitshitshit...!’
Reflexes that you didn’t even know you still had suddenly kicked in as you just about caught the handle by sticking out your foot. The strain was a bit much on your ankle, but you still managed to pull the bag up. The flap was open, letting out a slither of bright neon colours that seemed to slice through the dullness like a dazzling rainbow, and nearly send Charles into a frenzy.
The sole reason the two of you were even here in the first place; the eggs.
Charles’s eggs, to be more specific.
You closed the flap and looked off into the distance towards the temple. You were so close, and yet oh so far.
A low growl earned your attention back down to Charles as he circled the tree once, twice, three times before finally settling down, tucking his legs underneath his body; almost akin to a cat. You couldn’t help but notice how mellow he had promptly become. There were no tantrums, no throwing his body-weight around and no malicious taunting. He was just...sitting there, looking so sullen. Was he worried about the eggs?
You nearly smacked yourself. Were you honestly feeling sympathy for a literal spawn of Hell that had been terrorising, killing and eating people for God knows how long? Were you really that out of touch these days?
Sure, you preferred spending time in the company of the exhibits at the museum rather than your colleagues, but this was ridiculous. Charles was an evil, monstrous... thing that needed to be exterminated. Wiped off the face of the planet. That was what Eugene had said. As well as every other resident on the island. Even the crazy ones. Therefore, it was the right thing to do. For everyone’s sake. For the world, even.
So... why was that tiny spark of hesitation still there?
Now, you didn’t claim yourself to be an expert on spiders but if any came into the museum, you had always been curious enough to check them out. Wolf spiders had been a particular fascination of yours. Hideous little things, and an incredible predator to boot. Swift and lethal; hunting anything that so much as twitched. However, when it came to parenting, they really did take care of their kids, and then some. The mothers would carry their babies on their backs for weeks—feeding them, protecting them, in rare cases even giving up their own life for them.
You glanced down at your bag. The eggs emanated not only in colour, but in warmth too; you almost wanted to hug them like a hot water bottle. But judging by the soft growl that reverberated from below, you didn’t dare.
“Oh hush,” you blurted out. “I’m not going to hurt them.”
Well, that was a lie. You were on your way to place the eggs on a pedestal in a temple in order to turn their life force into some sort of light beam that Charles would end up absorbing to initiate a fight to the death so that you could lure him to a bridge full of explosives where he would get blown to bits.
...Why did you let Eugene convince you to come here again?
Charles let out a disgruntled huff.
“I don’t see what you’re so miffed about,” you said. “I could be at home right now. Sitting in my favourite chair with some nice hot tea in my favourite mug while my kids natter on about what they’ve been up to during their day—I don’t have any favourites there, mind you. I know a lot of parents do but I am all about equality.”
That was definitely a lie. Lily had always been your favourite.
You realised then that you had probably been stuck here for about a week now. No doubt your colleagues had probably phoned your partner to ask when you were coming back to work. You had mentioned the trip once or twice but promised it would only take three days at the most. Everyone was probably so worried...
You clutched the eggs a little tighter.
“Where’s your partner?” You suddenly found yourself asking, feeling as shocked as Charles looked at the unexpected question. Did he even have a mate? You only assumed since spiders couldn’t procreate independently. Then again Charles wasn’t an ordinary spider.
You reminded yourself to look up therapy if you ever managed to return home.
No. When.
As if to answer, Charles let out a short, sharp snarl. Nothing nasty. Just a little blunt.
Did...did he really understand you? Or was he just toying with his prey? Lulling you into a false sense of security perhaps? You couldn’t quite tell.
Either way you were grateful to have your first actual two-way conversation since you had arrived on the island. Even if it was with a bloodthirsty monster who probably wanted to decorate some massive spider web with your intestines.
The grotesque thought didn’t deter you. Not one bit.
You talked about anything that came to mind: your family, your job, favourite foods, places that you wanted to visit, horoscopes, the concept that nothing is real and everything is a simulation run by either aliens or the government. Eventually topics turned a bit more mundane, like the weather.
Which...you noticed was starting to pick up quite a bit. The wind was whistling louder, and the rain grew heavier; looking up, you could see why.
The clouds gathered with molten silver and bright whites that swirled in steady and radiating ripples. You loved the sky before a storm; the atmosphere was subtly electric, alive in excitement for what was to come. Nearby screeches came in the form of tossed gulls, flashes of white in the grey, tumbling as they struggled against the gale. Looking ahead, you could see the ocean rising in great mountains; anger in the form of water, turbulent and unforgiving.
You didn’t even hear Charles stirring before he made another attempt at climbing the tree. You recoiled back at his newfound determination and almost followed your instincts as they screamed at you to escape through any means necessary, whether it was climbing further up the tree or jumping down to the ground; both options were probably suicide, but anything was better than becoming dinner right now.
Though...you noticed Charles’s expression was less bloodthirsty and more...concerned. Worried even.
Not for you, but for the eggs.
His children.
You recognised that look immediately. It was one you wore constantly when your children were little. When they got lost in the grocery store when you turned away for literally one second. When they fell and scraped their knees. When you let them go to school for the first time on their own.
Fear. It was a constant companion for parents worldwide.
Even demon spider trains that came from the fiery depths of Hell.
And it was probably for that reason that you curled your body around those eggs when the lightning struck and ripped apart the only platform that was keeping death at bay. Funnily enough, you weren’t frightened of what was to come; if the fall didn’t kill you then Charles certainly would. Instead, you tried to think of yourself as falling back into a soft seasoned bed of autumn leaves, breathing in the aroma of the earth and watching the free-form clouds before everything went black.
Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—you only fainted momentarily. You woke up to the skies starting to clear and the rain only a light drizzle. With a pained groan, you managed to lift your chin for a brief few seconds to see your bag—with the eggs inside—still intact. However, you also noticed the branch you had been perching on was now on top of your legs, trapping them completely.
With a defeated sigh, you leaned your head back against the cool, damp soil and contemplated your options—or lack thereof.
The brief illusion of choice dissipated completely when that all-too-familiar grinning face came into your field of vision.
“Well,” you breathed. “Ya got me.”
You didn’t say anything else as nothing prominent came to mind. You had never really been the poetic type. You didn’t even bother asking him to make it quick because you knew he wouldn’t. In fact, he would probably eat you slower just to spite you.
The spider lifted the branches that were trapping you with relative ease, tossing them aside with a grunt before turning back to you. Screwing your eyes shut, the only comfort that came to mind was that at least you would be reunited with your old pal soon. The afterlife wasn’t something you paid any mind to—you would even call it nonsense— but Eugene had been an avid believer in it. You hoped it was real, you honestly did, as it was the only thing that would get you through the pain that was to come.
A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you felt what you assumed were Charles’s pedipalps (the two front legs that spiders used to sense their surroundings—and...food). The touches were feather-like and danced across your chest as if the demon was trying to pin-point exactly where he would rip you apart. Teasing you right up until the end, you almost admired his tenacity.
You waited.
And waited.
…
Okay, this was ridiculous.
You cracked open an eye and almost demanded to know what was taking so damn long when you noticed that Charles had taken the strap of your bag between two pincers and slowly—almost delicately—eased the bag over your head before stepping away and peering inside. Satisfied that the eggs were safe, he turned back to you.
Well of course he wasn’t going to stab you before, you were still clutching onto his kids after all. There was a brief pang of pride in your chest at having managed to protect all three of them from the impact of the fall.
But now that you didn’t have them, there was no doubt that Charles would...leave?
You blinked a few times to make sure you weren’t hallucinating, but sure enough he was turning tail and leaving for the open wilderness with your bag. That not only contained the eggs but all your other stuff too. Your metal scraps. Your lockpicks.
The temple key.
Great.
Though slightly irked, you were still incredibly grateful, if not a little confused, to still be in the land of the living. Remarkably, your legs still worked too, they were bruised black and blue but there were no broken bones. You either had incredible luck or someone out there was looking out for you.
You still had that promise to fulfil, after all.
But now...you were torn.
Charles had granted you mercy this time, a rarity that nobody in the history of the island’s existence had ever seen. He was giving you an opportunity to leave and go home to your family while leaving his alone.
But doing so would leave the people here in danger, and—by extension—the world. When it came to everyone else, you didn’t particularly care, but since your own kids would be in potential danger...
So, you were probably going to have to go back to square one, get your bag back, along with the eggs, and go ahead with the original plan. You were disheartened at the thought of it, especially after seeing that Charles wasn’t some mindless evil monster but an animal—a highly vicious one, sure—that was just fighting like Hell to make sure he and his children survived in a world that had no place for them.
Who knew that you would have so much in common with a spider train, of all things. You almost scoffed at the thought. But one thing was for certain; you both valued family above all else.
And would do anything to protect it.