Arach by C.M. Simpson (books to read for 12 year olds TXT) 📕

a judge in town who’d believe that,” Mack said, and there were undercurrents of warning in his words that I was pretty sure gave his opinion weight.

The voice on the other end of the intercom sighed.

“Fine, Mosh Carrack. You can take the ‘illegal immigrant’.”

He could? Wait! Didn’t I get a say in this? What if I didn’t want to go with the crazy man that might only look like Mack? And why was he being called Mosh Carrack? Who the fuck was Mosh Carrack?

These questions tumbled through my mind, but stopped abruptly, when Mack reached down, and looped my hair around his hand.

“Up you get,” he said, sounding more than pleased with himself. “You get to come home with me, now.”

I followed the draw of his hand. Felt like the damned man was going to try and lift my head off if I didn’t. I, uh, got to go home with him, did I? And I got to do it, now? Hmmm. I glared at him, and felt him shift his grip to include the collar of my ship’s suit.

Like that, was it? I glared harder and kicked him in the shins—which was when I discovered some wise acre had nicked my sodding boots. Easy fix. I grabbed his shirt, spun myself into him, and kneed him in the groin just as hard as I could. I did not get the reaction I was expecting. Well, not exactly.

Firstly, because my knee impacted on hard shell, and not soft, vulnerable human flesh. Secondly, because Mack grabbed the front of my ship’s suit, and lifted me clear of the floor, raising me high enough that I could see into his mouth when he smiled, high enough that I could see the very non-human mandibles that quivered behind his human-like skin.

I screamed, and lashed out a second time, my bare foot striking a chest that was harder than flesh, my fists bruising against the contours of a face that did not match what I saw. The Mack-shaped creature shook me, until my head rattled, and set my feet back on the floor.

“Come,” echoed inside my head, but I back-pedaled across the cell.

I was so thoroughly sick of things not being what they seemed.

“She doesn’t look real keen to go with you, Mosh,” came the voice over the intercom. “Are you sure you want to take the risk?”

“They all come in the end,” the creature reassured him, in Mack’s brusque tones. “This one will, too.”

Why? I wondered, backing myself into a corner.

“Because if you don’t come with me, I’ll crush your mind,” was also a silent communication that only the two of us shared.

“You and whose army, Mi—” and just like that I felt his hand inside my head, his fingers digging into my brain, the pressure as he started to squeeze.

I drew a short sharp breath, and doubled over, the world going grey with pain—and, then, his hand was gone, and I was standing with my hands on my knees, panting with fear. Like that, was it? I forced myself to take a long, deep breath, and let it out slowly, and then I raised my head, and eyed him carefully.

“So, where did you want to go?”

5—Of Spiders and Wasps

I followed Mr. So-Not-Mack out of the security center. My head was divided between feeling bruised, and spinning with a strange sense of unreality. I walked behind him, and kept glimpsing wings, and flashes of yellow and black. At least that was better than seeing arach grey.

“Keep walking,” he said, his mind-voice sounding a lot less like than Mack than before. “I cannot hold the illusion for much longer.”

I wondered how much trouble he’d be in, if he shed his disguise while he was in the security center.

“Not as much as you’re in without me.”

I walked a little faster, as he lengthened his stride, and soon we were a block from the drop point and the security center, and reaching a set of plassteel gates set in a wall made of sheer, white stone. So-Not-Mack placed his palm against a section of stone, worn smooth by similar gestures, and I stared as the gates opened in response.

“We are almost safe,” he said, leading me through the newly opened gate.

Now, that sounded almost feminine.

“There’s a reason for that,” and this time I was sure I heard her voice in my ears, not so sure why I heard the buzz of insect wings.

We stepped through the gate, and So-Not-Mack walked further along a smooth stone path, as the gates swung shut behind us. I followed cautiously, preparing to run, because there was something subtly different about my ‘rescuer’, now that the wall lay behind us. I watched as his shape began to shudder in an all too familiar way, and then bolted back the way we had come.

“Stop!” The command rang in my ears, and through my skull, and I shook it away.

Stop? No freaking way! I was not about to become some…thing’s private picnic. The gate was a no-go, but there had to be a tree I could climb, one that overhung the wall, another way out of here that didn’t involve flying, or jumping a ridiculous height.

The arach that dropped down in front of me had obviously found one.

Arach?

I skidded to a halt, and back-pedaled, as it made a grab for me with two overly long, front legs. Well, that was a new version of spider! I was really beginning to not like new. There had been waaay too much new in the last few days. New threat, new world, whole new set of means I could be fucked six ways to Sunday, and all before breakfast. Nope. New was definitely not my most favorite thing, right now.

This arach did not speak. Instead, it tucked its legs, and swung, and I realized it was dangling from a nearly transparent fiber extruded from its bulbous rear-end. Definitely a species of arach I hadn’t seen before. I needed a stick. A really big stick.