Chương 2
“The plaster is reinforcing the boot. I can take the outer layer down without moving the leg if we work carefully.”
“And if something really is in there?”
Marcus looked at her.
“Then we need to know.”
Charles blew out a breath.
“Strong endorsement.”
Lena almost smiled. Almost.
Marcus began cutting through the already broken plaster, taking narrow sections rather than pulling it apart. Each fracture made a soft chalky snap. Lena supported the outside of Charles’s calf with both hands, keeping the boot from twisting.
Owen watched every movement.
Claire watched Owen.
The second piece of plaster broke free and dropped onto the sheet.
Something scratched again.
Closer.
Charles’s face changed.
Not with pain this time.
His eyes moved toward the sound, and the small stubborn smile he had been wearing disappeared.
“All right,” he said. “I officially dislike that.”
Marcus stopped cutting.
“Any new pain? Burning? Stinging?”
“No.”
“Numbness?”
“My toes have been numb since the fall.”
“Different numbness?”
Charles stared at him.
“Marcus, if I had a detailed taxonomy of numbness available right now, I’d give it to you.”
“Fair.”
Lena loosened the top strap.
The boot creaked.
Owen flinched.
Claire noticed.
She put a hand on the back of his neck.
He did not lean into it, but he did not pull away.
Marcus worked down to the strap closest to the ankle.
The scratching stopped.
That silence became worse than the sound.
Nobody moved for three full seconds.
Then Lena whispered, “Something just pushed the liner.”
Marcus saw it too.
A slight rise under the black padded edge.
It vanished.
Charles shut his eyes.
“What exactly are we discussing here?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Wonderful.”
Marcus reached for a pair of long forceps and then stopped himself.
“No. We open it first.”
Lena nodded.
Claire drew Owen back.
The boy resisted until his mother put herself between him and the bed.
“Mom.”
“You’re staying behind me.”
“I need to see.”
“You absolutely do not.”
“He’s my grandpa.”
“He is also my father.”
That landed between them.
Owen looked away.
Marcus undid the ankle strap.
The boot opened by less than an inch.
Something dark moved under the inner padding.
Lena jerked backward half a step.
“Oh my God...”
The metal tray rattled against her hip.
Marcus froze.
For one impossible second Claire saw nothing.
Then one of the creatures emerged.
It was large enough to make her understand Owen’s fear without understanding how it had happened. A dark spider pushed from beneath the liner, legs feeling across the broken edge of the boot. Behind it, under the loosened padding, several more shapes shifted against one another.
Not hundreds.
Not a nest erupting into the room.
Just enough.
Enough to turn the skin along Claire’s arms cold.
Enough to make Charles whisper, “Jesus.”
Enough to make the red emergency lights reflected in the windows suddenly feel less like equipment and more like warning.
The spider started toward the sheet.
Marcus caught it under an inverted specimen container before it traveled three inches.
“Lena, another container.”
She moved instantly now.
Professional reflex returned over shock.
Marcus slid a stiff card beneath the first container, trapping the spider without crushing it.
Another dark shape crawled deeper into the liner.
“Don’t pull the boot,” Marcus said.
“I’m not.”
“Charles, stay still.”
“I have become extremely motivated to do that.”
Owen had gone silent.
Claire felt him breathing behind her, quick little breaths against the back of her blouse.
Marcus and Lena worked in careful increments. Open strap. Lift padding. Container ready. Wait. Support the leg.
The second spider appeared and was caught.
Then the third.
The fourth stayed hidden until Marcus flexed the outer shell of the boot very slightly. It moved from beneath a fold near the heel.
There were five in total.
Five large dark spiders in the place where Charles Mercer’s injured leg had been strapped for nearly four hours.
When the last container clicked shut, no one celebrated.
Nobody quite trusted the word last.
Marcus examined the liner using a penlight.
Lena checked beneath the bed, beneath the blanket, beneath the tray.
Claire rubbed both hands along Owen’s sleeves even though there was nothing on them.
Owen allowed it for about ten seconds before pushing her away.
“I’m fine.”
“I know.”
“Stop.”
“All right.”
She stopped.
Charles was staring at the ceiling.
Marcus touched his shoulder.
“Charles?”
“I’m thinking about every itch I’ve had since six o’clock.”
“That is a very bad hobby right now.”
“Agreed.”
Marcus examined the skin that had become visible near the top of the loosened boot.
“No obvious bite there.”
“What happens if there is one?”
“That depends on what these are and whether any of them actually bit you. We’re not guessing.”
He looked toward Lena.
“Call poison control. Then call county dispatch and see who handles wildlife or arthropod identification after hours. Photograph the specimens before anyone transports them.”
Lena nodded and moved toward the desk phone, then thought better of it and used the clinic line on the wall where she could remain in the room.
Claire frowned.
“Poison control?”
“It’s routine when there’s a possible venomous exposure and we don’t know the species.”
“Are they venomous?”
“Most spiders produce venom. That does not mean these are medically dangerous to your father.”
That answer irritated her because it was precise instead of comforting.
She heard herself say, “Can you just tell me whether he’s safe?”
Marcus met her eyes.
“No. Not yet.”
She hated him for about two seconds.
Then she respected him for the same reason.
Charles looked toward Owen.
The boy stood beside the fireplace, pale and motionless. The brass poker lay on the floor a few feet from his shoe.
His aggression had vanished completely.
He looked younger without it.
His eyes were wet, but he had not cried.
“I heard them when Grandpa fell asleep,” he said softly.
Marcus looked at him.
May you like
Owen’s voice was almost apologetic now.
“I put my ear by the boot. I thought maybe there was ice in it. But the scratching stopped when I touched it. Then it started again.”
