Spider Hollow
As they marched toward a rocky cliff face, Peng studied the landscape ahead of him, noting every trail, every hill, every tree, and every stream of water—mapping out every possible opportunity for escape. He was good at identifying such opportunities. He always found a way out. It was what he did.
Peng had always imagined he would escape into a big city—maybe San Francisco or New York. Both of them had large populations of Asians, and Peng would be able to blend in and disappear. He’d never thought about escaping into the mountains before. Maybe the wilderness would be even better than the city. Ron had taught him enough to survive—he could build a shelter, purify water, and keep from getting wet in a rainstorm and contracting hypothermia. He could sneak into the packs of hikers at night and steal small quantities of food they’d probably never miss. Winters would be a problem. There wouldn’t be any hikers; there wouldn’t be any food. Maybe he could live in the mountains in the summer and move to the city in the winter. At least in the mountains there would be fewer people. Fewer opportunities for his actions to hurt someone.
A cold wind whipped at them as they hiked single file. The giant man was in front, keeping JR close to him, almost as a shield, and continually looking around as if a cougar might jump out and pounce at any time. The woman walked behind Joey, prodding him with the sharp end of a stick if he slowed down or began to cry. He’d been crying a lot.
Ron was next, walking in front of Peng, his arms pulled behind him and secured with zip ties. Peng could see that Ron was testing the nylon, pressing against it with his wrists, seeing if it would stretch. Like Peng, Ron was also trying to find a way to escape. Somehow this made Peng feel close to him, as if they shared a secret—almost as if they were friends. Peng quickly looked away from Ron. He had decided the path he would take a long time ago, and friends were not part of the equation. He couldn’t falter now.
Suddenly, Tiny dropped to his knees, pulled JR close in front of him, and raised his gun. The others pushed Peng, Joey, and Ron to the ground as well.
“What did you see?” Jackson said.
“Just a flash. Something moved up there in the cliffs. You’re leading us into a trap, Jackson. That Delta’s probably up there, waiting to pop us like zits on a teenager’s forehead.”
“You’re seeing things,” Jillian said, spitting on the ground.
“It’s just a goat,” JR said, surprising Peng. Since their capture, the boys had gone silent with only the occasional sob coming from Joey. JR’s voice shook a little, but he still sounded sure of himself. “A mountain goat next to that rock by the lone tree, moving up toward the top.”
Jackson pulled out his binoculars and settled them over his nose. “The kid’s right. It’s a mountain goat. Looks like one of its horns is busted off. Must be a fighter.” He pulled the binoculars from his eyes and squinted at the hill. “Dang, kid, you’ve got good eyes.”
“I spotted it first,” Tiny said.
“You’ve been seeing assassins behind every tree,” Jillian said. “There’s no telling what you saw.”
A flash of white disappeared over the top of the ridge, and the goat disappeared.
“See where that goat went?” Jackson said. “That’s where we’re headed.”
“Over that cliff face?” Tiny asked. “That’s impossible.”
“Exactly. So no one will be able to follow us in. But don’t worry, we’re taking another way.”
They got up and started hiking again.
“How do you know about this place?” Jillian asked.
“I did my research.”
“The box canyon wasn’t on the original itinerary. It wasn’t even close.”
“It was within ten miles,” Jackson said. “I made sure I was familiar with every option within that radius.”
“Did you learn that in Delta school?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. You’d be surprised how much we talked about the importance of planning for contingencies.”
Jillian said the next words softly, almost inaudibly, as if she were talking to Joey and no one else. “At least he learned something more than how to shoot a comrade.”
Jackson’s jaw clenched. “If you’ve got something to say, then say it.”
“I thought Deltas were a tight brotherhood—no man left behind and all that. I’m still trying to figure out how you felt it was okay to pop one of your own in a training exercise.”
Jackson chuckled. “Is that what’s bothering you?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Since I happen to be part of your current team, it bothers me that you would kill one of your own.”
“Well, don’t worry about it. I was just the scapegoat for somebody up the chain who messed up.”
“So you weren’t responsible?”
“Oh, I shot him, all right, if that’s what you mean. But the two of us had been at each other’s throats since selection. He was a sacrosanct son of a millionaire, who thought he was better than everyone else, especially me. Anyone with eyes could have seen there was trouble coming. And then they put us in the shooting house together with live ammo flying. He was behind me with a gun swinging in my direction. I reacted. What did they think was going to happen?”
“So they kicked you out to cover up their mistake?”
“Something like that.”
“It was the other guy’s fault? For starting to swing a gun your way?”
“That’s the way I saw it.”
“That’s a convenient way to see the world, Jackson, blaming everyone else for your actions.”
“Give it a rest, Jillian. You’re starting to tick me off.”
“And we know what happens to people who tick you off, right? They tend to have unfortunate accidents.” Jillian paused, then said, “You should know something about me.”
“What’s that?” Jackson said.
“When I was fifteen, a man tripped me on the street. He said he was sorry, that it was an accident. He made like he was going to help me up, and instead he pinned me down and tried to take advantage of me.” Jillian stopped for a second as if reliving the memory in her mind.
“What happened?” The question didn’t come from Jackson; it came from Joey. Everyone looked at him in surprise. He had stopped crying and was turned around, looking at Jillian.
“I cut his lips off,” she said and then used her stick to turn Joey back around to start hiking again. “I don’t much care for accidents.”
Tiny muttered something under his breath that sounded like a swear word. Jackson didn’t say anything more for several minutes.
They reached a small hollow with a spring bubbling out of a rock, the trees around it forming a semicircle and the breeze that had been biting at them all day temporarily absent. This was the kind of place a travel agent would put in a brochure, a slice of paradise that disguised an angry world just outside of view.
“Time to stop,” Jackson said.
“Is this the place?” Tiny asked hopefully.
“This is last water,” Jackson said. “We’ll stop for a few minutes and rest up before we hit the rocks. Fill up every container we have. We are going to need it where we’re going.”
“Why don’t we just camp here?” Tiny asked.
“Because this is the perfect place for a Delta operative to sneak up in the night and cut your throat. Keep one of those boys in front of you at all times. Fill up quickly. We don’t want this guy catching up to us before we get into Spider Hollow.”
“Did you say Spider Hollow?” Tiny asked. Tiny complained a lot for such a big man.
“That’s the name of the canyon,” Jackson said.
“I figured. What I want to know is why they call it that.”
“Not sure exactly. There’s a legend that the Spider gang from Yuma, Arizona, decided to knock off a Park City bank in the 1860s. They killed a few bank employees in the process and got out of town with a posse hot on their trail. They made it this far and holed up in the box canyon. The legend says the law couldn’t get to them for five days because the canyon was so well protected—anyone trying to get through the rocks could be easily picked off.”
“So what happened to them?” This time it was Eric who asked. He had always had an obsession with cowboys.
“They ran out of water and decided to make a run for it. The posse gunned them down one by one as they tried to get out.”
Eric seemed impressed.
“At least that’s one version of the story,” Jackson continued. “The other one says they were so freaked out by the giant spiders in the canyon that they couldn’t take it anymore and fled in a crazed frenzy.”
“You’re making that up,” Tiny said, but there was a question in his voice.
Jackson laughed. “Maybe, but modern-day hikers do talk of the spiders. Big ones that weave their webs between the rocks and make them dance when you approach, trying to warn you away. I don’t think they’re poisonous though.”
“I’m not going in there,” Tiny said. “I don’t do spiders.”
Jillian snorted in disgust. “When I took this job, I was told you were one of the toughest, meanest mercenaries out there. But you’re just a pansy. Even Joey here’s not shaking like you are.”
“I collect spiders,” Joey said.
“Put any man in front of me with fists or knives and I’ll grind him into the dirt,” Tiny said. “I just have a thing about spiders.”
“Stay out here if you like,” Jackson said. “But we’re going in, and we’re going now. Everyone load up.”
Their water bottles filled, they all put on their packs and began walking again. Tiny grumbled, but he followed behind.
When they reached the rocks, they saw their first web. Jackson had not been exaggerating. The shining filaments began to dance in the sunlight, and numerous other webs stretched between the two cliffs that bordered the trail. The only way through the rocks was through the webs, which hosted fat, dark spiders with yellow-and-black legs.
Trying to avoid the spiders in front of him, Tiny stepped back into a web behind him and began jumping, screaming, and cursing. “We can’t go in there.”
Jillian rolled her eyes and stepped forward. She grabbed a spider with her bare hand and crushed it, a dark ooze leaking out between her fingers.
The boys looked at her in fear and awe, all except Joey, who said, “You didn’t have to kill it. It wasn’t hurting you.”
Jillian wiped her hand on the back of Joey’s shirt, took down the web with the stick she was carrying, then pushed Joey into the opening of the slot. “You can deal with the next one any way you like,” she said.