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leg could strike again she
grasped it, wrenched it into a boomerang shape and rammed its needled bloody
tip into the mains socket. Plugged it in. Nothing happened. The socket switch
wasn’t on. The leg writhed and tried to free itself, but Tabitha held it in
place. More legs scrambled for her under the door, flailing and slamming.
Panicking, Tabitha let go of the limb and pushed the socket switch beside the
jammed-in claws. There was a sudden loud crack and a spark, and the thing’s
body slumped to the floor outside with a thud. Tabitha’s blood coated the metal
claw that had stabbed her, and boiled from the wall socket in bright red
bubbles. The lights went out. Tabitha took a few deep breaths, sitting by the wall.
She gave up searching for sense. She grunted at the pain in her leg and hobbled
to the door, unlocked it. She stood there and listened for it outside, just to
be sure. When she opened the door an inch and peered terrified through the gap,
she saw a dead alien spider crumpled on the floor.
    A little later
the dead creature sat propped up by the wall on the landing, wiry legs poking
skywards, and could easily have passed for a discarded art project. Downstairs
Mog squatted in his litter tray in the kitchen, and wondered how to cope with
recent events.
    Tabitha had
flipped the power back on. The phone was still dead; she had to get out and be
with her mum. She’d disinfected and bandaged her leg. Already her thigh was
patterned with steel-grey veins where the thing injected her; a web of
right-angles blushing beneath her skin. She should have asked someone on the
street to call an ambulance, but she was paranoid. It’d be just like a sci-fi
film, she told herself. She’d be quarantined, experimented on. Maybe even
dissected in some secret government lab. No, she had to get to her mum. She had
to tell her friends. At least then people would know if she disappeared. She
knew all about armies and governments, and their fondness for testing strange
new things. She’d seen enough movies to know a thing or two about that.
    ‘Are you ok?’
she asked Mog. He was sitting despondently on the living room carpet. ‘I’m
going out for a while, ok?’ she said, hobbling over to stroke him. She had to
see her mum. The shock hadn’t sunk in yet. It was too strange to sink in. Mog
purred at her strokes, and nuzzled her cold hands. ‘See you later,’ she said
gently, and limped back to the hallway to wrestle her trainers on. Suddenly
Tabitha stopped and gasped. She felt the angular veins spread from her thigh;
pins and needles under her jeans. The grey veins coursed up her sides and down
her arms. There was a crushing pain in her chest then, like someone was
stamping a breezeblock into it. She was having a change of heart. She fell to
her hands and knees, gasping and screaming. The hallway twisted into darkness,
and even the retching feeling running through her body couldn’t keep her awake.
Her brain shut everything down. Sick, terrified, soaked in a cold sweat,
Tabitha fell unconscious on the carpet.

 
    3

 
    Lindsey watched the
bustle of New York rush past outside the cafe. Yellow taxis crowded the road.
Offices and department stores towered above the street, half-blocking the blue summer
sky. A man passing by glanced in at her through the window; a pretty girl
sulking at the world. She had her arms crossed, sat facing her boyfriend Alex
at their usual table. Staring at him with smoky eyes, wishing she was somewhere
else. Like back in Mike’s apartment, wearing nothing but his bed sheets. It was
hot today. Too hot for this.
    ‘I
just don’t understand you sometimes,’ said Alex, leaning back from the table
between them. After three years together, Lindsey said to herself , he’s
finally hit the nail on the head.
    ‘You
know, I think you enjoy it when we do this,’ Alex concluded, giving up on his
interrogation. He leaned forward and sipped his coffee. ‘You like getting into these fights,’ he said.