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was wide. Closer
inspection showed more of them moving in the silk cocoons, feeding on what lay
within.
     

 
    Eight
     
    All of this only took an instant to be forever imprinted onto my brain
and in a moment I’d picked up Lindsey, thrown her over my shoulder and was
running for the canoe, stooping to grab the paddle on the way. She was
weightless in my arms. “Have you been bitten?” I asked, breathless, as we ran.
    “No.” Her reply came in short bursts as the rhythm of my feet hitting
the ground knocked the breath from her. As we made the short dash, I was
scanning the ground. Spiders appeared from cracks and crevices, came out of
the neatly mown grass, closing in on us. It’s hard to believe, but it felt
like we were being chased.
     
    I felt a sudden pain on my bare calf, below my shorts, not dissimilar
to a bee sting. We’d about reached the river’s edge and reflexively, I
launched Lindsey into the water. It was a longer fall than on the upstream
side of the lock, probably about ten feet, and she let out a small, surprised
scream before hitting the water heavily on her back. Before the water sent airborne
by her plunge landed to re-join the river, I’d jumped in after her.
    My hearing filled with the sound of bubbles rushing past my ears and my
vision with green underwater murk. I kicked my way to the surface and
instantly I was looking around and making a grab for Lindsey where she was flailing
in the river.
    “You okay?”
    She spluttered and blew some water from her nose. “Uh-huh,” she
nodded.
    “Can you tread water?” I asked, still holding onto her although it was
a challenge to keep us both afloat, especially as I was still wearing boots and
my leg was throbbing from where I’d been bitten.
    “Yes,” she nodded again, a touch of indignance in her voice.
    I almost laughed. “Good, glad to hear it. Now, try not to touch the
sides, okay? If you get tired and think you’re going to sink then just let me
know, I’ll hold onto you.”
    “Okay.”
     
    I peered up at the canoe, an impossibly long distance above us, just
the tip of its nose visible over the bank. An end of rope trailed over the
side, hanging down toward the water, tantalising but unreachable. There were
two spiders, which I could see, on the metal steps and more crawling out from
small cracks in the concrete; such small things. They looked harmless, but
appearances can be deceptive.
    They had thought
me harmless, and look where that got them.
    I shook my head, to clear it of the past and bring my concentration
back to the present predicament. It was without question I needed to climb the
ladder and fetch the canoe, even if all our other gear was lost. Whether it
was the cool of the water, which I don’t think it was, or through shock, I was
trembling. The throbbing in my calf was testament to how these things could
bite and my whole being was telling me not to go up.
     
    After looking and thinking about it for a few moments, psyching myself
up, I removed my vest and, while still treading water, used it to flick the
spiders from the steps, as well as any I could see on the wall on either side.
As they landed in the river I moved out of the way, watching as they struggled
and swirled slowly away downstream on the gentle current, before once again
fixing my attention on the steps. I could see no more of the spiders and so,
after a deep breath, I grasped onto the rungs. My body didn’t want to comply
and I took another deep breath, “fuck it,” - it was becoming somewhat of a
mantra - and climbed as fast as I could, keeping my body hanging as much as
possible over the river and away from the wall.
    Before I’d climbed half way, first one, and then a dozen or more
spiders appeared over the lip of the bank, scurrying down toward me. There
would only be one chance and I had to take it. It was then or never. I
launched myself upwards and across to where the rope was trailing a little over
the edge and prayed I’d catch it. My