15

2:21 AM

Davidson leaned over the reception desk, on the off-chance that someone was hiding on the other side.

"Hello?" he called, when he found no-one there. "Anyone about?"

"Where is everyone?" asked Cheryse. There was a note of panic in her voice she was only barely managing to keep a lid on. The drive to the station had only been a mile or so, but it had been like navigating a warzone. She'd been relieved when Davidson had swapped seats with her, but had then spent the rest of the journey just staring in horror at everything going on outside.

A lot of it had just looked like bog-standard rioting, although quite a lot more enthusiastic than usual. There was the run-of-the-mill looting, vandalism and arson happening on pretty much every street, but here and there she'd seen groups of people chasing individuals down. She'd always looked away before they caught up, preferring to imagine that the person being chased had somehow made it to safety.

She'd expected the Heddlu station to be safe, but from the moment they'd entered she knew it wasn't. She was filled with a sudden nagging doubt that nowhere would ever be safe again.

The glass doors hung off their hinges. Furniture was upturned, broken or both.

Smoke poured from the windows on two different floors, and while there was a lot of blood spattered across the walls and other surfaces, there was no-one – Heddlu officer or otherwise – to be found.

"Andy? I said where is everyone?"

"I don't… I don't know," Davidson admitted. "Maybe they left."

"Left? What, all of them? They all just left?"

"Maybe! Like I said, I don't know, Cheryse, OK?" Davidson snapped. He squeezed the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. "Sorry," he sighed. "I don't…maybe they're upstairs."

He looked to the ceiling, then frowned. "No, wait." His eyes went to the floor. "Let's check the cells."

"Why the cells?" asked Cheryse. "It's cops we're looking for, not prisoners."

"Safest place in the building," said Davidson. "It's like a vault down there."

He pressed the call button on the elevator. There was a metallic squeal and grinding sound from somewhere inside the shaft. Davidson shot Cheryse a sideways glance.

"Maybe we should take the stairs."

.

.

.

.

The basement level was in darkness. Davidson flicked the light switches a few times, as if that might somehow fix the fault. When it didn't, he reached into his pocket for his mobile to use as a torch and then remembered it was back in the flat, still wedged under his mattress.

Davidson backtracked up to the ground floor and rummaged in the front desk until he found a torch. Halfway down the stairs again, he heard Cheryse whisper.

"Ssh," she urged. "Quiet."

Davidson tip-toed the last few steps.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"I heard something," Cheryse said. Davidson could only faintly make out her outline in the dark. She pointed towards where he knew the main cells door lay. Sure enough, if he listened, he could hear something, too. It sounded like…

"Is that… is that someone muttering?" Davidson said. He clicked on the torch. "Swanson? That you?"

A circle of light illuminated the small square window in the door. A face scrunched up in the sudden glare.

"Fuck. Watch where you're pointing that thing," spat Detective Chief Inspector Swanson. "Davidson? Is that you?"

Davidson approached the door. "Aye. Aye, it's me."

"About fucking time," she snapped. "Harkness told you to knock off early, not vanish off the face of the fucking Earth. D'you know how many times we tried to phone?"

"I've a pretty good idea, aye," Davidson admitted. He reached for the button to open the door, but Jack's sudden shout stopped him.

"Don't open it!"

Davidson froze. "What? Why?"

Jack took a deep breath. "How fucked up is it out there?"

Davidson glanced back at Cheryse. "Pretty bad."

"Aye, well it's no' exactly been a bed of roses down here, either," Swanson said. "Morrison's dead."

Davidson blinked. "Morrison?"

"Aye."

"Who's Morrison?"

"Fuck's sake," Swanson huffed. "Sergeant Morrison. You know. With the wife that got caught shagging her stepbrother."

"Sergeant Watson?" said Davidson.

Swanson twitched with irritation. "Whatever his fucking name is. He's dead."

"Shit. You sure?"

DCI Swanson glanced back over her shoulder at Jack.

"I'm pretty sure, aye," she said. "If he's not, it won't be for want of me fucking trying. Now, about that button."

Davidson reached for it again.

"No! She didn't mean press it! Jesus. Listen." Jack took another deep breath. "There's something in here with us."

Davidson frowned. "What?"

"Spiders," said Swanson.

Cheryse stepped forward. "Spiders?"

"Who the fuck's she?" Swanson asked.

"My upstairs neighbour," Davidson explained. "It's… It's a long story. What do you mean, 'spiders'?"

"I mean spiders. I can't put it any more plainly than that. There's spiders in here. A lot of spiders. If I was feeling descriptive, I'd go so far as to say it's fucking teaming wi' spiders."

There was a long silence while Davidson waited for more.

"So?" he asked, eventually.

Jack laughed to himself. "'So?' he says. So, we don't want the spiders getting out there. Trust me on that."

Davidson felt himself frowning again. It was becoming a habit. "So… what? We just leave you in there?"

"Aye, you wish," Swanson said. "No. You're going to open the door, then slam it behind us before any of them get out. Got that?"

Davidson nodded. "Got it."

"Right," said Swanson.

Jack rocked from foot to foot. "Don't hit the button until I tell you. I'm going to scare these wee bastards back a bit."

Davidson shot Cheryse a concerned glance. "Scare the spiders back?"

"Aye. They won't come near him. Christ knows why. Not that I'm complaining." She cricked her neck.

"Right, get ready," she said, then Jack turned and ran into the corridor, roaring at the top of his voice.

"Is he always like that?" Cheryse asked.

Davidson started to shake his head, then stopped.

"I'd like to say 'no,' but… pretty much," Davidson admitted, then he jumped when Swanson screamed at him to hit the button.

A single tone rang out as Davidson slapped the door open button.

Swanson hit the door hard and tumbled through.

"Shut it!" Jack bellowed, tripping and falling forwards onto the floor on top of Swanson.

Davidson put his weight behind the door and slammed it closed.

There was a sound like heavy hailstones hitting the metal on the other side.

"Check the floor!" Swanson barked. Davidson swung the beam of the torch down. He found himself sighing with relief when he saw the floor at their feet was a spider-free zone.

"It's OK. Nothing came through," he said.

"Something nearly did," said Cheryse.

She bent at the waist and leaned down to look at the bottom of the door. There, trapped between the door and the frame, was a shiny black insect. Only its head and front pincers had made it through the gap. It wriggled and squirmed, the pincers grabbing at the air.

Davidson shuddered.

"That's the biggest spider I've ever seen," he said.

"It's not a spider," said Jack, standing up and dusting himself down. In the glow of the torch, Davidson saw a spray splatter of blood on his shirt and heavy grazing on his knuckles. "It's a hitchhiker."

"How do you know it's not a spider?" said Cheryse. "It looks like one."

Swanson barked with hysterical laughter as Jack rolled his eyes.

"I don't care what it fucking looks like, sweetheart, it's not a spider," he said. "And how do I know? Because it told me."

Cheryse's brow furrowed. "It told you?"

"Aye," Swanson growled, rounding on her. "What's wrong with that?"

Cheryse quickly shook her head. "Nothing."

"Bollocks. I just told you a spider talked to me. Everything's wrong with that. Grow a fucking backbone, sweetheart," Jack said.

"So… it didn't talk to you?" Davidson asked.

"Oh, no. It did," said Jack. "Well, not that one, but another one. It's talking to me now, actually."

He looked slowly between them both. "It's telling me I should kill the pair of you. Shove my thumbs through your eye sockets."

Davidson and Cheryse stiffened. They both reached for the knives they had tucked into their belts.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to listen to it," Jack said. "See, I think I've figured out what's happening."

He glanced left and right, as if about to impart a great secret.

"I think these spiders are turning people into big angry mad bastards, but I had something working in my favour." He tapped himself on the temple again. "I was a big angry mad bastard to begin with. I think about killing half the bastards in this place on a daily basis."

Davidson swallowed. "That's… uh… reassuring."

Swanson nodded her agreement, then puffed out her cheeks and pointed upwards.

Then Jack grinned back, canting his head as he posed his next question.

"Now, what's say one of you kills me to get the spider out and then we go up there and find out just how fucked we all are?"