The spider sat on his chest, rubbing its front legs together in gentle rhythm. Jack opened his eyes and froze, his heart in his throat. The spider stared back at him with eager eyes as it reveled in the fear it created. This tiny soldier of fortune.
“Where’re you headed, Jack?” it asked with a voice he recognized but could not place. A distant remembrance.
“Home,” Jack whispered.
“That’s a long way. You know you’ll never make it.”
“I can make it.”
“No, you won’t. Why’d you leave Laura behind?”
“She didn’t want to come, it was her choice.”
“Was it really?”
“Yes.”
The spider crawled slowly up his chest. Its fat body buoyed by eight points of creepiness. Jack could see the hair on its legs move in the air stirred by his own breath. He wanted to move but couldn’t.
“Why don’t you love her?”
“Who?
“Laura.”
“I do.”
“No you don’t. Admit it, you’re glad she’s not here.”
Jack didn’t answer. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to hear himself say it.
“So you think this is your new life? Out here running on your own? What happens when you get home?”
“We go back to living.”
“That’s not what you want, is it, Jack?”
“Yes.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe you. There’s a piece of you that wants this to go on, isn’t there?”
“No.”
“Stop lying to me, Jack!”
The spider crawled a few inches more. Its front leg reached out and started stroking Jack’s bottom lip in slow, tantalizing motions. He could feel the coarseness of its hair, the sound of it stroking the stubble on his chin. Jack tried to breathe but couldn’t.
Panic.
“What do you want, Jack?”
“I don’t know.”
“A new life? The old one? You want it to end right now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Really?”
“I . . . I . . .”
“You what?” it whispered.
“I . . . don’t . . .”
The spider moved slowly. Its front legs worked at Jack’s lips and pried his mouth open like a dentist performing a root canal. Jack could feel the sensation of pipe cleaners brushing against his teeth and on his tongue. The spider crawled into his mouth, the body crammed into the opening. A scream echoed in Jack’s throat but had no escape.
He awoke and vomited on the rock floor. Jumping up, he ran his hands frantically over his clothes and danced around the cave, looking for the bug. He was alone. Wiping the vomit from his mouth, he tried his best to slow his racing heart. It was a dream. There was nothing here but him and silence.
I’m going crazy, he thought.
He didn’t sleep the rest of the day. Watching the sun set over the western hills, he felt the phantom scratches of imaginary insects crawling inside his clothes.