The Last Of Her KindChapter 6: Tracking The Spider free porn video

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.

“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.

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?

These questions and more ran through her head as she moved through the trees, listening for signs of humans or wildlife. Small animals became victims to her hunger as she ate her way across the forest, finally emerging near a small town.

Surrounded by prairie along the edges, she figured it would be best to sneak a ride. Sticking to the shadows where nobody would see her, she reassembled the chair and reluctantly backed her abdomen into it, her legs folding up. The fit was a bit tighter already, the result of a slightly swollen belly.

With a sigh, she put her glasses on, feeling her senses dull. Pulling her secret stash out of the chair, she realized that the slip of paper with Emily’s coordinates was gone. The good news was that she had the numbers memorized, and she could only hope she had lost it somewhere it couldn’t be found by her pursuers.

She was getting sloppy.

Pushing the faux joystick, she rolled through the middle of town, keeping an eye out for larger vehicles that she could sneak a ride on. This town wasn’t too far from Interstate 84, and if she could hitch a ride on an unsuspecting semi-truck, she could cover ground much faster and get off somewhere in Oregon.

The wheelchair was a bit of an eyesore for the locals who eyed her with suspicion, but they were quick to look away when she met their gaze. While she felt fairly suspicious, this was still far preferable to strolling through town on eight legs.

Traffic seemed to pick up on the south side of town, and she slipped between a pair of buildings and watched the road. There was a large gas station near the edge of town with an attached diner. Looking at the sun, she figured it was at least a couple of hours until sunset. Rolling her eyes, she went back into town, trying to find somewhere to hide comfortably. There was an assortment of small shops with crisscrossing alleyways, and she wondered if she needed to just hunker down behind some boxes or a dumpster and pretend to be a vagrant. It had worked before, but this town was small enough that someone might realize that she was new here.

Her face broke into a smile at the sight of a bookstore on the corner. Grateful that the door was large enough for her chair, she rolled inside, the bell above her dinging, and immediately began browsing through a stack of books by the entrance.

Would she be able to read, once in Oregon? Was there any way for her to connect to the human world, or would she spend the rest of her days in isolation from the humans that fascinated her so? Frowning, it occurred to her that she had underestimated just how much her life would change. How often would Emily come to visit her? Would she bring gifts, such as books, to help Ana pass the time?

In safety lie isolation. In community, danger. Scowling, she wondered how hard it would be to lay a trap for the Order, maybe snap their heads off and leave their bodies in the woods somewhere. She could go back to her regular life, working at the library.

Then again, what about Darren? She rubbed her eyes and sniffed. What would have happened if she had let him come with her? For certain, they wouldn’t have traveled nearly as far, and she also wondered if she would have consumed him in the night, desperate with hunger. Then again, if he had come with her to Oregon, then he could have been her link to the world, a constant reminder of the humanity that she strove for.

No. He deserved better than a life of solitude, away from his own kind. With the Order sniffing around her nest, they would likely question him, but he didn’t know anything, not really. If anything, they would probably find him as much the victim as anybody else and just let him go with a tall tale that nobody would believe. If nothing else, humans were fairly predictable, and she would rest easier at night knowing that Darren was out there somewhere.

Picking up a romance novel, she traced her fingers across the body of the man on the front. He stood in the background, little more than a shadow, watching a woman in a black dress weep near the shore’s edge. With her instinctive sex drive diminished, new feelings had come to the front. How did she feel about Darren now that she carried his brood? Clearly she had been using him, but now that she looked back on it, she couldn’t help but miss his presence. Their faux dates had felt nice, giving her a strange sense of belonging that she had never encountered before.

She missed him.

It was a difficult admission to make, but now that he knew the truth about her, and seemed to accept it, her previous trepidation at his presence was gone and she could view him in a new light, a light that now cast him similarly to the man on the cover of the book she held. Romance novels had never held much appeal for her, but now she was curious. Looking at the stack, she wondered how many she could safely carry with her.

Distracted, she unrolled some of her cash, her eyes flicking to the stack of books and back to her hand. Was this what she should be spending her money on? It wasn’t like she could simply make more, as that ship had clearly sailed. Later on, she would buy some human food from the diner to stall for additional time, waiting for the right truck to come along while munching on a burger or something else juicy. At the thought of burgers, her mind briefly flicked to Hannah at Mattie’s.

Shaking her head, she collected a few of the more promising books and moved through the store. Her chair was too wide for a couple of the more stuffed aisles, and she let out a sigh of annoyance. Behind her, the bell over the door dinged, and she peered through a gap in the books to watch a young man in a hoodie step outside. Through the front window, she caught a glimpse of his face. It was pocked with scars, and he didn’t appear to be either of the men who hunted her.

She let out a sigh of relief and resumed her shopping. She figured six books would be safe, then grabbed one more. Lucky number seven. She rolled through the shop some more, the squeak of her wheel her only companion. Satisfied that she had passed enough time, she paid for her books and left the store, and turned her attention to the diner.

It was still far too light out. Packing up the chair would take a couple of minutes, and she would need to make sure that her truck was parked away from the streetlights. She also needed to make sure it was going the right direction. Ending up in Wyoming would be bad news, especially if they got out on the plains.

Darren probably could have rented a truck or something, and let her sit comfortably in the cab. Or the bed. That wad of cash she had saved up would have easily purchased a used car or a van, and the two of them could have traveled in relative safety and comfort.

That was wishful thinking. Dreaming up alternatives to her current situation didn’t change her reality, but in hindsight, it felt like she actually had some options. The truth of the matter was that she had no way of knowing how Darren would react to her true nature, but now that he knew, she was fantasizing about what could have been, squeezing the bag of books in her lap.

A figure stepped out of the alley, a gun held casually in one hand. Her pulse raced at his appearance, and she turned her head to look up and down the road. Nobody was out, and not a single car could be seen. It was the man she had seen leaving the bookstore. What did he want with her?

“Go,” he told her, making his voice gruff on purpose. He waved the gun towards the alley and she saw that a wheeled dumpster was only a few feet away from them, and seemed to be where he wanted her to go. She had been so caught up in her own head that she hadn’t been paying attention, and she dutifully wheeled around the corner, her nose wrinkling. This man didn’t smell right. He was filthy, and likely hadn’t had a shower in weeks. Maneuvering her chair around the corner, she saw that the building actually had a depression where the dumpster was usually stored. The greasy tracks on the ground told her that the man had pushed it to create a private alcove, and she was more than a little impressed. The thing looked heavy.

She was less impressed when she saw a second man step out from behind the alcove, a knife in his hand. They had set a simple but effective trap for her. The second man moved behind her where she couldn’t see him.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she said, letting her voice tremble.

Though Stinky was the one with the gun, his hands shook, and he pointed the gun roughly at her head. When he lifted his arm, the loose sleeves of his shirt slid back to reveal track marks all along the inner edge. He was a junkie. “Give me your money and I won’t.”

“My money?” She couldn’t believe it. He must have seen her pull the cash out of her pocket. Reluctantly, she held it out, and he snatched it from her.

“We could get some good money for the chair, too,” the second man said.

“I can’t walk without the chair.” Ana looked over her shoulder. The second man was bald, with tattoos up his neck. “Please don’t take it from me.”

“We don’t need the chair man, this is plenty.” Stinky pocketed the cash and lowered the gun. “She’s just a cripple.”

“Please, I need it to—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Baldy stepped in and punched her across the face, her glasses flying across the alley.

That was a mistake.

Her senses came alive, and she could smell the blood traveling through their veins and smell the warmth of their breath. Logic and reason were replaced by the rage of instinct, and when Baldy grabbed her chair and tried to tilt her out, her abdomen expanded and blew the chair apart, scattering it into pieces across the alley. Rising up on all eight legs, she kicked Stinky in the chest, sending him flying across the alleyway, then spun around to face Baldy.