But all that had changed on January 6. He’d seen the strange shadows flitting about the Vallerio’s ancient corridors. He’d seen them attack Tony, seen them tear the man to shreds. Were these the same creatures Dasnoe had seen way back in 1904? Or something else, something new?
Caplan’s dread quickly faded away and he found himself feeling bolder, brasher than ever. He could still hear the faint sound of crackling flames. But he also detected a new sound. An intermittent thumming, thrubbing noise. It came from close by, just ten to twenty yards away.
With speed and silence, Caplan circled a tree trunk. Just ahead, he saw the source of the strange noise. Surprise and confusion charged through him like twin freight trains. He tried to speak, but his jaw refused to operate. All he could do was look. Look at one of the strangest things he’d ever witnessed in a forest. Hell, one of the strangest things he’d ever seen, period.
“What is that thing?” Pearson asked in a hushed tone.
“Spider webbing.” Caplan’s fingers curled around the flashlight. “I think.”
“A spider did that?”
Caplan studied the mess of silk-material. It was attached to one side of a large black box and covered a wide area. It didn’t look anything like a typical spider web. Instead, it looked like a spider had spun a large net and proceeded to wrap it around its prey, forming a pod in the process.
Its size was daunting. He estimated its width, which bulged out from either side of the box, at roughly six feet. Its height was just shy of three feet. “You’ve got another theory?”
“No.” Pearson knelt in the soft soil. Aimed a beam at the pod. “Why’s it moving around like that?”
“I think there’s an animal trapped under the webbing.”
“But the whole thing is moving.”
“That’s because it’s a large animal.” Caplan inhaled sharply. “A very large animal.”
Chapter 23
“What do you think you’re doing?” Pearson grabbed Caplan’s shoulder, but Caplan shook him off.
Without hesitation, Caplan marched to the pod. Drawing near, he felt its heat, its energy. He could see it vibrate, perfectly in time with a soft, constant noise.
Thrub. Thrub. Thrub.
He aimed his beam at the pod and then shifted it around, trying to find an angle that would allow him to see the shadowy form of whatever poor creature had been trapped inside the silken web. But the threads were too thick, too well woven. Kneeling down, he studied the strange black box. It sparked with electricity and emitted a soft sound of its own.
Thum. Thum. Thum.
Spiders were capable of taking down larger animals. Rodents, frogs, snakes, even birds. But no spider on Earth could capture an animal like the one before him. Even a giant gang of spiders, working in perfect harmony, couldn’t do it. No, the webbing hadn’t come from spiders. So, maybe it had come from the box. Maybe it was some sort of trap, designed to stun an animal and then shoot webbing all over it. But why would anyone want to do that?
Caplan eased the backpack off his shoulders. Removed a small object — an axe — from the interior and slid off its head cover.
Rising to his feet, he donned the backpack. Gripping the axe tightly in his left palm, he approached the pod. The axe, one of two he carried at all times, weighed in at less than two pounds. But it was sharp as hell.
Pearson shook his head. “Are you out of your mind?”
Caplan had seen — or rather, sensed — the vicious creatures that inhabited 48A. So, he knew the risk of trying to free this particular animal. But he felt no fear, no need to back down. All he felt was a brash certainty that everything would be fine. If the creature turned on him, he’d kill it. If not, he’d be saving its life.
“It needs our help,” Caplan said.
“Why? Isn’t that the whole point of this place? To be free of people, no matter what the consequences?”
“You think this is nature’s work?” He nodded with disgust at the black box. “Guess again.”
Pearson studied the box. “What is this thing?”
“I don’t know. But it’s old and rusted. I’d say it’s been here for a long time.”
“How’d it get here?”
Caplan spat at the ground. He didn’t care about the how or the why. Someone had trapped the animal. And he was going to free it.
Pearson saw the look in Caplan’s eye. “Don’t do it,” he warned. “We’ve got to—”
Caplan swung the axe. It hurtled downward, just as it had thousands of times before. Its sharp blade crashed against the silk and bounced off it.
Pearson grunted under his breath. Looked away.
Caplan’s right hand, still holding the flashlight, shifted to the pod. He saw a shallow cut in the silk-like material. A closer look revealed more layers of intricate, tight webbing. The pod vibrated as if it had a life of its own.
Thrub. Thrub. Thrub.
Aiming for the cut, he swung the axe again and again. Slowly, his blade began to carve through the thick silk-like material, like a much larger axe chopping through a tree trunk.
Thum. Thum. Thum.
He kept up the pressure, timing his cuts with the pod’s soft vibrations. His movements, the product of experience, were exacting, precise. But inside, he felt quiet desperation. Desperation to save lives. Desperation to make up for the one he’d lost.
The pod’s vibrations sped up. Scraping noises rang out. The silk-like material began to stretch, to pulse with increasing speed.
“Get back,” Pearson shouted.
But Caplan didn’t hear him. All he heard was the thumming, the thrubbing. He continued to swing his axe, cutting deeper and deeper into the large pod.
The pod trembled violently. The scraping gained volume, drowning out the other noises. And still Caplan kept up his steady assault, slicing deeper and deeper into the pod.
Suddenly, the cut burst like a broken seam. The pod yawned open and a dark, egg-shaped mass appeared.
Pearson took a few steps back. Aimed his gun at the mass.
Caplan swung his beam into the pod, identifying the mass as a large fur-covered creature. Its limbs were pressed tight against its body. Its face, from what he could tell, featured a broad snout, short ears, and long, sharp teeth. Thick hoses connected it to the black box.
The creature winced, turned away from the light. Its coat was golden brown on the sides and streaked with black. Its legs were long, powerful, and covered with black fur.
Slowly, the creature’s paws stretched outward. Its limbs unfolded into the void. It began to wiggle about, as if awaking from a long slumber.
Pearson swallowed. “Okay, you saved it. Can we go now?”
Caplan studied the animal. Was this one of the creatures that had killed Tony? He wasn’t sure.
The creature planted its paws on the bottom of the pod. It rose on all fours, seemingly doubling in size. The hoses ripped away from its body. A low-throated growl rang out.
The creature stood up on its hind legs, stretching the pod and causing the silken strands to snap, snap, snap. Finally free, the animal stretched upward. Three… four… no, five feet in length. Its front paws reached for the sky. Its low-throated growl took a turn into the deep-end.
“Zach.” Pearson’s voice turned urgent.
The creature fell back to the earth, its front paws crashing softly against the pod’s tattered remains. It wasn’t gigantic. Just five feet long and maybe three feet in shoulder height.