The Last of Her Kind Ch. 02

"Nngh..." She bared her teeth, her fingers curling into the hard wood of the desk. She heard the heat kick on, felt the temperature in the room rise, all the while grinding herself down on the knob. It spread her open, but it wasn't good enough. She kept herself busy, going through some of the records, checking papers due for the bulletin board. There was going to be an ice cream social next Friday.

She kept shifting, the knob pushing her even wider. Her eyes kept flitting to the boys who walked over with a small collection of books in their hands.

"Tom Swift. Good find." She took the books and hand wrote the due date in them, then took their library cards and logged them. She forced a smile and watched them go. The pressure shifted in the room once more, imperceptible to a human, announcing that they had left, or that someone else had come in. She waited for several minutes, grinding down on the stamp. Ana felt foolish, her desires outweighing her ability to think.

She put her hand back in her waistband, her finger finding her clit once more. She rubbed herself, her whole body tensing up. Her other hand was on the desk, her nails digging into the hardwood.

Ana fought back a moan, grunting under her breath. She was moving her hips faster now, frustrated at the confinement of the chair. She bit down on her lip, the molten heat inside her unfurling, her stomach muscles suddenly contracting.

The knob slid inside her.

She groaned, her fingers squeezing the desk. She was suddenly full, her vaginal muscles hungrily sucking the knob deeper. Her hips shook and the wheelchair moved back and forth. When she came, her fingers clenched, ripping a chunk of wood off of her desk.

"Fuck," she hissed, staring at the large sliver of wood she had just ripped free. She set it back up on the desk, leaning back in her chair, both her hearts racing. The world seemed a little clearer now, the edge taken off. However, the large chunk of wood in her hand was a problem.

A shift in the air told her that somebody had walked inside.

"We're closed," she announced, looking at the clock. She nearly dropped the wood when Darren appeared from around the small wall she had built. He had either moved very quietly or she was caught up in a post-orgasmic haze.

"Oh, that looks bad." He took the splinter of wood from her and held it against where she had ripped it from. "I can glue that back in place. Did you drop something on it?"

"Uh... yeah." His scent was intoxicating, but she no longer felt the urge to rip off his clothes and fuck him. Currently, anyway. "Could you do that now, actually? It would be a hassle to wait until tomorrow morning."

Darren frowned, lost in thought. "Yeah, I should be able to do it. Won't take me long."

"Great." She nearly forgot to tilt the control stick, her legs already pumping the inner gears, making the chair move forward. "If you could remember to lock up, that would be groovy. I'm not feeling the best."

Darren appraised her. "You do look a little flushed. Yeah, I can do it."

"Thank you." She moved toward the door. Once she had passed through, she made her way home, stopping to pick up her mail. Inside the church, it was apparent that Darren had done some cleaning. It was hard for her to care about the space outside her bedroom, but she was grateful to see that he was doing his best to at least keep busy.

Inside her room, it took a ton of willpower not to rip her way out of her chair. She pulled the stamp out of her vagina and frowned. It was covered in cum and a sticky web-like fluid. That was going to be a bitch to clean off, and she didn't dare put it in her mouth. It reeked of her own pheromones, and she didn't need to spend the afternoon masturbating again, especially when Darren could return any minute.

Darren.

Even the thought of him made her stomach tighten. She knew almost nothing about him, but was very much aware that his idea of romance probably involved fewer legs. She spent the next hour moping about her room and rereading some of her favorite magazines to pass the time. Eventually, Darren returned home and she sank back into her chair. The knock came, like she knew it would.

"Ana? Can I bring you anything?"

"Just a good night's sleep, thank you." And your big fat cock. Her jaw dropped the moment she thought it.

"You sure? Do I need to call a doctor?"

"I'm fine, thank you." She was squeezing one of her breasts through her shirt. She moved closer to the door, the scent of him seeping beneath her door and lighting up her senses. She grabbed the knob and fought the urge to twist it.

"Okay. I'm heading out for a bit. I'll try to be quiet when I get back." She could feel his footsteps through the floor and let out a sigh of relief. She slid out of her chair and then through the hole in her ceiling.

Up in the belfry, away from Darren and the world below, she felt a little like her old self. The cool breeze through the tower helped to clear her mind. She checked her traps and was disgruntled to find that they were largely empty. Snacking on some animals from her reserves, she watched the sun set from her tower, wondering if it was time to move on.

She thought about the slip of paper Emily had given her. Would she find peace in Oregon? Probably. But she would also find crippling loneliness, and it wouldn't help her solve her current problem. How long until she became feral? What would happen to her if she caught a man and forced him to mate.

"Ugh." She tossed the shriveled carcass of a raccoon into a pile of mummified carcasses near her window. The humans thought of her kind as monsters, and how could she ever hope to identify with them if she saw herself as one?

The raccoon carcass fell off the stack and snagged itself on one of her webs. Frowning, she climbed across the gap and picked it up. Her trash pile was getting a little large for her liking. Maybe a nice long walk in the forest would help clear her head. She bundled it up with some of the others and set it aside.

The town fell asleep around her and she hooked the bundle over her shoulder, her eyes watching the street below. Her vision in the dark was more than excellent, and she could pick out a couple of stray animals that wandered nearby. She licked her lips, fighting the urge to make a short night of it. Those strays belonged to somebody, and she didn't need people searching high and low for their missing pets.

She slid out of the tower and was quickly at the edge of town. The extensive woodlands around the place were perfect for her purposes, but first things first. She scouted around for a soft patch of soil, eventually finding one beneath a bush. She quickly dug a hole with the sharp claws on her feet, then stuck the bundle inside. There was nothing left that a predator could possibly want, but she placed a large rock over the pit once she had filled it in. Scrambling up into the trees, she was able to leap between them, covering far more ground this way. From up there, she could spot potential dangers and simply wait them out or flee.

She could also check her traps from up here, and right now, she could tell she caught a rabbit in a snare she had woven. Ana descended from the tree and grabbed the creature, holding it by the scruff of its neck. She bit it once, a venom that stopped its heart quickly. She stood on her hind legs and used the others to wrap it up into a tiny bundle, then bit it again, injecting it with enzymes to break it down, and stuck the package to her back.

A couple of squirrels and a pigeon later, she was far from town when she saw that one of her pit traps had caught something. She landed softly amongst the leaves, her pale skin glowing in the moon's light.

Kneeling down to examine the hole, she saw the small rabbit trapped at the bottom. She stuck her hands around the wooden stakes, trying to grab it by the scruff of its neck.

"C'mon..." she muttered, her stomach growling. Why was she so hungry? She pulled her arm out and was getting ready to make a second go of it when she felt the air around her change dramatically.

Leaping forward, over the trap, she heard the soft hiss of metal through air. Tucking into a ball and rolling forward, she grabbed the base of a tree and scrambled upward. A blast of lightning struck the branches near her hands, and she spun onto the other side of the tree, leaping backward into the night. Several more blasts hit the tree, blowing it apart, but Ana was already on the ground, backing up beneath a bush, her spinnerets moving frantically.

"Damn." A man walked around the tree, his sword drawn. He surveyed the ground, blinking his eyes. "I don't see her and I can't see shit because of the lightning."

She should have smelled him. How had he hidden from her? Even now, he had no scent.

"Be on your guard." Another man stepped around the charred tree. He was holding a small rod in one hand, his other in his pocket. "I thought I had a clear shot, but I guess I was wrong."

"No kidding." The two of them now stood back to back. Ana's eyes had already adjusted to the darkness again, and she moved as slowly as possible. Her body was oozing a dark fluid that solidified against her white skin, forming into a thick, black shell to protect her. It would ruin her mobility and dampen her sense, but she felt that her alabaster skin was her worst weakness right now.

That gave her an idea. She pulled some web from her abdomen, quickly braiding it into a thicker strand of rope. The bundles on her back were a dull white, far more visible than she was now. She kept moving back through the dark litter of the forest, keeping her head low. Scanning the trees, she tied her web to the bundle and threw it diagonally into the branches above.

The men reacted to the sound and moved toward it, unaware of her current position. She moved backward, praying that there wasn't a third attacker, playing out the web as she moved. The bundle had tumbled through a thick patch of branches, barely visible from the ground.

The man with the rod pointed it at the tree, taking careful aim. Ana played with the rope, the bundle moving up and down as she put more distance between her and them.

When the blast of lightning came, she had closed most of her eyes already and was nearly fifty feet away. The bundle was hit and tumbled down through the branches, but the webbing held, and Ana pulled it back up, moving quicker now that they were distracted. She gave the web a hard yank, and more lightning tore into the tree, blasting branches away into the darkness and severing the rope.

"She's falling!" the mage cried, pointing at the bundle. The swordsman was waiting to slice into it when it fell free of the branches, but Ana didn't see the rest. She was immediately up into the trees, jumping across them as the last tree burned and the men yelled. Her carapace was slowing her down, but she didn't dare pull it off yet.

They had come for her, and now they knew where she was. It was the nest all over again, and she was fleeing from the flames of destruction. She jumped from tree to tree, running for over a mile, then finally stopped when she found herself on a cliff above the lake near the quarry. She had fished there several times, but the fish hadn't been great eating, either as a spider or a human.

"Damn." She looked back and could see the glow of the burning trees down the hill, an ominous flame that brought back painful memories. She pulled at the thick carapace that had encapsulated her belly and torso, peeling it away. Fire was the worst weapon against an Arachne because the flames could melt the fine hairs on her body, essentially blinding her to her surroundings. Now that she was far enough away from the ambush, she needed to be able to see clearly to continue her flight.

The black armor was still tacky from having formed from the pores of her skin, and she stuck it to the tree behind her. Moving quickly, she had most of it off when she detected a shift in the air nearby. She tumbled free of the branch just as a beam of light scorched it away, barely missing her.

"Shit."The mage held a different rod this time, the swordsman close behind him. How had they caught up to her so fast?

"You keep missing, Cyrus." The swordsman was moving much too fast for a normal human, moving toward her with his sword drawn.

"I was aiming for her exoskeleton. I didn't think she'd take it off." The rod was pointed straight at her now, starlight being sucked into it in long, sticky strands. "I won't miss again."

Ana scuttled backward, putting small trees between herself and them. The mage held his shot, his arm outstretched. It was going to be close, but she had one last trick up her sleeve. She was busy with some webbing in her hand, folding it like dough and twisting it into place. She had feared that they would track her, but hadn't thought they would do it so quickly.

"You're a crafty bitch, aren't you?" The swordsman smiled, his teeth wicked in the light of the moon. "Not for long, though."

She wanted to say something witty, but that wasn't her strong suit. Instead, her back legs brushed against the edge of the cliff behind her, signaling that she had arrived. When he came at her, she stepped over the rocky ledge and underneath.

"Shit!" She heard him slide against the ground, his legs briefly appearing over the edge. She tried to grab them, but he pulled them back up. "She's beneath us."

"She's trapped." The mage was digging through something, perhaps a bag. Ana didn't feel like waiting to find out what, scrambling down the steep rock face. Her pursuers were trapped on an overhang without a good view of her. Down by the surface of the water, she stepped into its cold depths, shivering.

She spun some new web, picking up heavier rocks to weigh her down. She expanded the thin mesh she had built, sweeping it over her head to capture as much air as she could. The rocks pulled her beneath the water and her air bubble mesh balanced her out about twenty feet down. The pressure in her ears was annoying, so she pinched her nostrils and equalized them.

Arachne were not known for their love of water, but before she had traveled to America on a boat, she had spent a lot of her time learning how to swim and how to survive underwater. On more than one occasion she had been forced to attach herself to the outer hull of a ship, or float down a river with her air supply in tow. She said a silent blessing to the Frenchman who had invented the Aqualung for giving her the idea and to the Diving Bell spider who had taught her how to make her own version from her web.

Beneath the water, she could see very little, but she could still make out the position of the moon overhead. She kicked with her legs, hoping that she was far enough down that she wasn't visible.

A couple minutes had passed when the blast ricocheted off the surface of the water. The lake churned as the cliff caved in upon itself, the giant rocks sending large waves crashing through that spun her about. She clung to her air supply, dropping a couple of rocks and rising toward the surface, then squeezed some air out to drop back down. From previous experience, she should have almost half an hour remaining.

The underwater swim was terrifying. Alone in the dark, she kicked her legs, praying that she would reach the opposite shore unharmed. There was a small cove hidden by the trees that she hoped to luck into, but she had a nagging feeling that she would discover that the Order would be there to greet her.

She smiled in spite of herself. The men of her nightmares now had a name. It was so innocuous, yet sinister at the same time.

She shivered, the cold temperature of the lake sapping energy out of her. If nothing else, it had taken her mind off of mating. Couldn't mate if she couldn't survive, now could she?

The light of the moon vanished behind some clouds and came back again. She prayed that it would stay out just a bit longer. At some point, her legs brushed the murky bottom of the lake. She was near the shore now, but couldn't tell where. She pictured it in her mind, moving to the right. Her pale body would be a dead giveaway if she got too close to the surface.

Suddenly, the moon disappeared. Moving closer to the surface, she saw that she was under something. She tentatively touched it with her fingers and discovered that she was under a blanket of leaves and wood. She surfaced slowly, covered in the wet refuse of the forest. It stank of fire.

She was near enough to the shore to get her bearings. She moved toward the hidden cove, but not before looking back. Whatever they had blasted the cliff with had taken out a large section of the nearby treeline, and the edges of the lake were piled up with debris. The sky was, in fact, perfectly clear. She had mistaken the logs above for clouds.

When she found the cove, she squeezed her sack empty and emerged, dripping and chilled. She clutched a pair of rocks in her hands, ready to go down fighting.

She was all alone. Moving quickly, she disappeared once more into the forest, hugging herself to keep warm.

Darren's eyes snapped open and he sat up in bed. He grabbed for his rifle, only to realize that it wasn't there and hadn't been for over a year.

Where am I? He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The darkness of the room was disorienting. He was in a bed, so he wasn't back in 'Nam. The bed was too nice for a homeless shelter, and he didn't remember breaking in to anybody's home.

Clicking on the light, his memory solidified. He was in his new apartment inside an old church. He took a deep breath, relieved that Charlie hadn't surrounded him in his sleep, and doubly relieved that his brothers in arms weren't waiting on him either. Dreams of the jungle were always bad, but even worse were the dreams of his squadmates, hands outstretched and calling his name.

I wish the sniper had aimed at someone else. His dad's voice was sharp like a knife, carving the memory into the surface of his brain.

"Fuck you, Dad." He whispered it to himself, afraid to open up the floodgates. These memories were the main reason he couldn't drink away the pain. Too many of his brothers had discovered that booze might dull the pain, but it also gave their inner demons the power to manifest.

A floorboard creaked outside his room.

He was instantly on his feet, moving silently. He pushed open the door of his room and squinted at the light in the kitchen. He was still wearing his pants, he always slept in them, but he was shirtless.

"I'm armed," he said, stepping toward the light. He wasn't, but if that proclamation didn't send a prowler running, nothing would. The clock on the wall in the living room displayed that it was almost three in the morning. He heard the clatter of something hitting the floor.

"You'd better not be." Ana's voice was angry.

He stepped around the corner to find her leaning over the side of her chair, trying to grab the can opener she had dropped.

"Oh, sorry." He knelt down and handed her the opener. "I thought you were someone else."

"Someone you greet with a gun?" She snatched it away from him and turned her chair around. He noticed that her lips had a blue tint and her hair was damp. She held a can of peaches in her hand, her trembling fingers fiddling with the opener.

"I thought we were being robbed, so I lied about the gun. Are you okay?" He put his hand on her shoulder and she flinched away. "Shit, you're ice cold!"

"It's none of your business." The can fell out of her hand. "Fuck!"

"Here, let me help." He took the can away from her and went to his room. He came back and threw his blanket over her, ignoring the odd look that crossed her face. He stuck the can of peaches back in the cabinet and pulled out some soup he had bought and tossed her something from his pocket.