Chapters 2-3 of Indiana Jones and the Golden Spider

Posted by Goodsport from adsl-216-102-199-185.dsl.snfc21.pacbell.net on February 01, 2000 at 15:43:34:

Chapter 2 - Arachnophobia

    "What the--" Indiana Jones choked and nearly dropped his bullwhip. James Lambert let out a horrified scream and staggered backward, while Micah just stood there in open-mouthed wonder, staring at the monstrosity before them.

    It looks just like one of those spiders kept in the lab, back at Barnett College. A hairy eight-legged creature with bulging eyes warily watching you, just waiting for one false move, before it'd pounce on you. Micah mused, then smirked, except that this one was about ten feet tall!

    Indiana Jones, who was still standing on the other side of the gap, could feel goosebumps run down his spine and down to the back of his hands. Suddenly he realized that he was still holding his bullwhip with which he was about to swing back to the others.

    "There goes nothing." He leashed out onto one of the spikes, hooked one securely and without much hesitation swung himself back over the chasm. He landed exactly in front of the horrific grotesque creature that was moving to attack his stunned pupils.

* * * * *

    "Ack! Spider!" Annoyed, Indiana Riggs flicked off the tiny baby spider that had been crawling on the pilot seat. Funny, he thought, how did these little creatures get in here? I thought I'd thoroughly cleaned in here last week.

    Shrugging it off, he switched on the ignition of his seaplane and was about to start up off the water, unaware of the dozens of poisonous black widows creeping in the back and under his seat...

* * * * *

    At about the same moment curator Short Round was making his rounds through the DeYoung Museum. He enjoyed being all alone in the late evening hours, after the opening at 9:00 pm, to wander around the famous pieces in the establishment. One of his favorite places currently was the exhibit on African Art. For a while he lingered by the makeshift of an African warrior holding a wooden spear. It sure did look authentic.

    Short Round wrinkled his brows suddenly. Perched on the shoulder of the warrior was a shockingly realistic appearing Tarantula. He reached out to feel if it wasn't just part of the props, when he heard a loud crash coming from the Entomology Department, which was located in the adjacent chamberÖ

    The spider all forgotten, he ran to the next room.

* * * * *

    Megara had barely touched the Fettucini Primavera and yet the bottle of Madeira was nearly empty. Muppet helped himself to another serving of the Zuppa Alla Poggioreale and gave Meg a puzzled look.

    "Don't tell me you don't like the food, dear Megara," Muppet placed down his fork and spoon and wiped his mouth with the serviette. "What's wrong?" a look of concern washed over his face and he tenderly took Meg's hands in his.

    Her cool green eyes didn't reveal anything, they just seemed to look through him. "Nothing Muppet. IÖ I am just not hungry." She withdrew her hands and stood up, excusing herself to visit the ladies room.

    Meg's stilettos sank deeply into the soft cherry red rug of the sumptuous and elegantly decorated Italian restaurant. Through her lashes, she scrutinized her surroundings. Familiar famous faces sprinkled the dining hall. Gathered in a corner were a bunch of Mafiosos feasting on Caroccio and Riesling. One of them raised his head and nodded knowingly in her direction. She smiled back, neither her cool eyes nor her aloof mien giving anything away. La famiglia. she mused.

    Perhaps it had been her absent-minded state or her problems lately that had caused the collision. She had just rounded the corner into the foyer area, when she clashed headlong into someone nearing from the other side. Her stiletto heels buckled in the unexpected motion and unwittingly, she felt herself fall. Sturdy masculine hands deftly caught her petite body. Groaning she inspected her aching ankles.

    "Oh pardon, mademoiselle." His voice was low yet audible and rich with an accent that she couldn't quite place. She glanced upward.

    Emerald eyes met piercing soulfully black ones.

    Their glaze didn't waver for what seemed an eternity and it was she who finally looked away, a slight blush rising to her olive complexion.

    Not unbecoming at all. he thought and reached out to inspect her foot.

    "Nothing's broken, I hope. Does this hurt? No?" He helped her back up grinning. "You'll be just fine."

    "Ah... ringraziarlo molto." She straightened out her wine-red skirt and through the corner of her eyes surveyed him carefully. The stranger was dressed all in elegant black, from his well-tailored black suit to his black suede loafers. Even his hair was jet-black and combed back in a slick fashion. He held a hat in right hand and a cane in the other. Every inch a gentleman, she wondered, except that his features were neither English nor American. And his accent...

    "Have we met?"

    "Not that I remember. For surely I would remember being introduced to such a beauty like yours." He kissed the hand, which she had extended. "May I introduce myself, my name is---"

    Just then they heard someone approaching.

    "Megara, darling!" Muppet's concerned voice called out to her. "I've gotten worried of had happened to you."

    "I was just talking to-"she turned her head to inquire the stranger of his name, but mysteriously he had vanished. Stupefied, she searched the lobby. Nothing.

    "To whom?" Muppet asked equally puzzled.

    "Uh..." Clearly confused, she shook her head. Just then she noticed a tiny piece of paper in her hand. She turned back to Muppet. "No one. I was just admiring the paintings. "Scusarme Signore, I still have to go the comfort room.." With that she let a dumb-founded Signore Muppet standing in the middle of the hall and pushed her way into the ladies room.

    Closing the door of the stall behind her she opened the note. She nearly dropped it. Nothing was written on it. Except for a crude drawing of a black spider with an 'E' etched in the center.

* * * * *

NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

    The conference hall of the Murray Hill Hotel was packed. Reporters from every possible newspaper around the world were hovering around a mass of vaguely familiar faces, flashing their lightbulbs and wasting rolls of film on the spectacle before them. Esteemed professors, distinguished scholars, scientists, chemists, doctors, biologist and all sorts of other erudite men had been gathered. Famous faces of famous names obliterated the seats facing the stage. A tiny and stout man was standing at the podium, rambling down titles, academic awards, achievements and the names to famed colleges and universities. He was near the end of his monologue.

    "Ladies and gentlemen," he paused dramatically, "let us all welcomeÖ Professor Deirdre Campbell!"

    Thunderous applause arose.

    A svelte, titian-haired woman, dressed in a simple yet flattering, aquamarine dress, climbed the stairs leading to stage and approached the lectern. She adjusted her silver wire-framed glasses and faced the crowd, waiting for the applause to subside.

    It didn't take long for respectable silence to set in.

    For a moment she seemed at loss for words, but when she finally did speak, her voice was assured and steady, rendering proper meaning to the message she was clearly getting across. Brows wrinkled in speculation, and every single person's attention was fixed on her. Even the reporters had started their distracting flashing and stopped to fully comprehend and let the significance of the speech wash over them.

    Barely had she come to the end of her address, when the back door of the hall were forcefully pushed open and a couple of hooded men stormed in. One of them threw something to the center of the room: a dark oblong object that landed on the floor somewhere between the Princeton University representatives and the vice-president of Oxford University. Another one disposed of smoke bombs and fired several times into the ceiling.

    Absolute riot broke out.

    Expecting for the "thing" to explode any minute now, everyone backed away as far as possible. About five to ten minutes passed ... and nothing happened. Finally, after much consternation, one of the security guards timidly verged upon the object, which had rolled beneath a chair and had stopped by the end of one of its foot. It was made of a metallic material that had been painted black. While at first sight it had appeared to be completely smooth and oval, on closer inspection its texture was rather rough with a sort of ethnic design on itÖ like that of eight legs protruding around it. A suspicious inscription was visible on its top. The sentry squinted, picked the capsule in his hands and inspected it closely. "It looks like some 'E'." he shouted over his shoulders.

    Just then the thing exploded.

* * * * *

    Short Round stared in fascination at the mess in the Entomology Department exhibit area. Jars and terraria had been broken and the place was creeping with insects. As a nice finishing touch, the board had decided last month to put up live Insecta/Arachnida on display. It would take weeks to have all this repaired! Short Round expected the worse as he carefully made his way through the room. His eyes searched the still intact terrarium by the window. He approached it apprehensively.

    His worst suspicious were confirmed. The glass cage was empty. The most dangerous of all spiders had escapedÖ

* * * * *

    Megara stared at the piece of paper in amazement. This couldn't be true! She dashed out of the comfort room and out of the exit, unto the street. He must be somewhere!

* * * * *

    Fritz nudged his companion, named Ludwig. "Na, kuck dir mal an was da ankommt!" ***Look what's coming along there!***

    They had been about to enter the restaurant to follow the lady, when they spotted the very person hasten out of the exit.

    "Sie ist alleine?" Ludwig barely could conceal his surprise at finding her all alone. "This is our chance." He whispered in his native tongue and got out of the Studebaker.

* * * * *

    Professor Deirdre Campbell shoved off the top of the lectern that had fallen on her due to the massive blast of the explosion. Bits of shattered glass and huge pieces of brick had blasted through the room at the explosion. She'd been lucky that something had fallen upon her to partly protect her from the flying debris. Touching her forehead gingerly she could feel pieces of broken glass crystals stuck in the skin above of her brow. Blood trickled into her eyes and she wiped the drops away grimly. She'd been through worse.

    She dared a glance over the stage. Those who hadn't been able to evacuate the building at the time, were lying either motionlessly on the floor or were checking up on those who were hurt. In the distance she could hear the wailing of ambulances and fire trucks approach. She leaned the back of her head against the cool wall and closed her eyes. This attack had been planned on her. She was sure of it. Her latest discovery, she had been warned, should never be revealed to humankind, but she hadn't listened; thrown the harsh admonitions and unfavorable threats into the air.

    Deirdre buried her face in her hands and the little of her back shook uncontrollably as she wept heartbreakingly.

* * * * *

    It all had started out a few years ago, in the midst of the African jungle. She and her colleague, her late husband had been experimenting on the possibility of the metamorphosis and transubstantiation of arachnids. No one would believe their theory but through laborious work and extensive field research they had come closer and closer towards their goal. Through the use of hyperactive steroids, distinct chemical components as well as endoplasmic substitutes, they had been able to somehow formulate a miracle in science. She had shown the world the results just a while ago, proved herÖ their theory in great detail.

    I did it for you, Bryant. she whispered to no one in particular. I did it for us.

* * * * *

    "Doctor Jones! I've never seen anything like this!!!"

    Indiana pushed aside Micah before the gigantic Arthropod could admire him. "You two grab those torches on the walls. I'll handleÖ her." With that he uncoiled his whip and slashed it noisily through the air. The creature clearly startled stopped mid-track. Indy grinned lop-sidedly, thinking how fun this actually was. Even more fun than that time he'd tried bullfighting in Madrid. The spider had overcome its stupefaction and was now back at attacking its intruders.

    "All this for a darn artifact." James mumbled.

    "AhÖ there was one more thing I wanted to tell you." The professor managed to declare while fighting off their aggressor. The students looked at him puzzled. "It's not there anymore."

    "What do you meanÖ"

    The spider inched them closer and closer to the edge.

    "It's not there?! "

    "Yeah."

    "Now what?"

    Suddenly the ground beneath them gave way and they felt themselves being sucked into the infinite abyss below.

* * * * *

    Meg scanned the street under the evening sky. She couldn't locate any black-clad figure within her vicinity. How did he manage to disappear so mystically? She hadn't had chance to answer her question as she was jerked backward roughly, as two gloved hands grabbed her from behind and forced her into a lone alley.

    "Zhee bit me!" the German shouted. Meg tried kicking him in the shins but he slapped her right across the face. "Italian bitch."

    Fritz flicked open his knife and pointed it at her pretty face. "Vhere iz eet?" he demanded.

    "Is what? I have no idea what you are talking about." She squirmed as the blade touched her skin.

    "Hure!"Ludwig sneered and licked his wounded hand. She had bitten right through his glove. "You know very vell vhat I am talking about." Fritz pushed the knife a bit deeper into her flesh that a single drop of blood trickled down her neck.

    Megara cursed her misfortune. This was all HIS fault. As if calling upon the devil, she heard his ever so nonchalant voice again.

    "But gentlemen, where are your manners? This is no way to treat a lady."

* * * * *

    Indiana Jones opened his eyes and tried to make out his surroundings. He felt like he was floating. Just like lying in his hammock back home.

    "Am I dead yet?" He heard a younger voice beside him ask. Micah.

    "Of course not, Johnson. IF you were dead, we wouldn't be lying next to each other like this, on some sort of trampoline, that caught our fall." James.

    Indy couldn't help but chuckle.

    "Doctor Jones? Where are we?"

    Indiana tried to sit up to take in his surroundings, but his back was somehow glued to his resting-place. The torches the boys had taken had fallen past them and were lying on the rocky ground about ten feet below them, He looked up and realized that they had fallen about forty feet down. They'd been lucky.

    He turned his head and managed a grin "My dear students, we are now in what one would call being caught in the net."

*************************

Chapter 3 - Phases of Death

    Wiping away the tears of both physical and mental trauma, Deirdre stood slowly, gathering her wits as she did so.

    Surveying the situation, she realized that the small fire in the middle of the room might flare at any time.

    Quickly she scanned the room, her eyes locking on the blue uniform of a security guard.

    "Hey you... security!" she shouted.

    The guard's head came around as he snapped out of his shocked trance.

    "Get to a phone and make sure the police are coming!" she demanded with all the authority she could muster under the circumstance.

    Almost immediately the uniformed man sprinted up the aisle and into the waiting room.

    Quickly she grabbed the nearest injured person, who happened to be the Dean of Barnett College, and began dragging him from the burning building.

    Luckily the blast had been small and concentrated, ripping things apart and shattering the windows of the admittance area. It left the walls and other areas of the Murray Hill Hotel conference center mostly untouched and void of the fire that was burning in the middle of the auditorium, where the bomb--and the security guard--had recently been.

* * * * *

    "Hey... Merry, what's with the ring?" he teased, walking past the desk of the woman who had once sworn that she could never share a house with a man.

    "Shut up!" she countered, then smiled, showing that she was actually proud of her new engagement ring.

    Noticing the smile as he looked over his shoulder, he asked, "so am I invited?"

    "No!" she called after him, her voice thick with sarcasm.

    Proceeding down the hall of the Police Department, the Fiddler removed his overcoat, hung it on the coat stand and did the same with his hat. He was just about to remove his suit coat when the phone on his desk rang. Forgetting that calls on this phone were routed through a secretary, he answered it as though it were an outside line.

    "NYPD, homicide department, this is Detective Fiddler speaking."

    "HiÖ" Merry paused, giving him a moment to realize his mistake, "there's an emergency at the Murray Hill Hotel. They're sending out the Emergency Service Vehicle, Apparently it was some sort of bombing. Fire trucks are already on the way, but people were killed so you need to get down there right away."

* * * * *

    Indiana Jones' smile faded as his eyes turned upward again, to the place from which the trio had fallen. The gigantic spider had attached a web to the ceiling of the cave and was now descending smoothly on a strand of web the width of Jones' ring finger.

    "Uh boys... our situation has not improved," then realizing he was sounding like his father, added, "we're in deep shit!"

    "A deep hole is more like it," James responded, then looking up at the arachnid, added, "no, maybe you were right."

    Looking around, nothing came to mind. His whip couldn't loosen them from the web; his pistol might wound the spider, but would probably stop it only if he happened to place the shot just right. Then it hit him....

    Jerking his arm up he semi-loosened it from the web. He then proceeded to remove his 'lucky charm' from his pocket. His new Zippo lighter had an airplane on the outside of the casing. Jones quickly flicked the top open, paused while looking at the giant spider, then went about burning the web around the three of them.

* * * * *

    The idea that a spider should be sitting on the seat of his airplane had hit him as odd... then suddenly, recognition struck and he realized it had been a black widow.

    He had been so caught up in the business at hand--namely, pre-flight procedures--that he had not even thought about the type of spider that had caught his attention, or at least part of his attention.

    Indiana Riggs stood quickly, spun around and saw a large mass of shiny black spiders streaming out of a box that obviously wasn't supposed to be open, behind his seat.

* * * * *

    Arriving at the scene of the bombing, the Fiddler looked around, analyzing the broken windows and watching as water streamed into the building while firemen dragging the wounded and dead streamed out. There wasn't much he could do at the moment. Once people had been declared dead and the threat of fire extinguished, he would be able to establish the location as the crime scene and start his investigation. It seemed obvious to him that the blast had definitely been meant to kill some person, or many persons, but why? His trained mind was already forming the questions even though he had nothing to base an answer on.

    Striding quickly to the fireman that seemed to be in charge, he asked, "Is everyone out of the building?" as what seemed to be the last of the firemen came out the smoke-filled doorway.

    "Yes, I believe so.... I think we've got the fire out," the Fire Chief replied.

    Just then, a young woman stumbled backward out through a side door that had thick, gray smoke flowing steadily from it. Realizing she was dragging someone, the Fiddler ran to her aid.

    Placing his hand on her shoulder as she frustratedly tried to drag a woman about twice her size from the building, he spoke softly.

    "You're injured, go over there to the medical area. I'll take care of her."

    Deirdre slowly turned her head, then brought her eyes up to meet his. She didn't say a word, but the Fiddler recognized the thankfulness in the look and gestured toward the medics.

    Some small part of her wanted to refuse help, to run back into the smoke... after all, it was in some ways her fault. Just then she started to cough violently from the smoke, and the tall stranger gently directed her toward the medical area with a gentle movement of his arm.

    Removing his hand from the young lady, the detective squatted down. He put one arm behind the unconscious woman's neck and the other behind her knees. He straightened his back, then lifted the large woman from the ground and proceeded to follow the younger lady.

* * * * *

    Meg felt as though she were awake, only all she could see was blacknessÖ and none of her other senses seemed to be working. She wasn't even sure if she was really seeing the blackness that enveloped her.

    "Is this what it's like to be dead?" she wondered, "Or would I not be able to think this if I were dead?"

* * * * *

    "Sheez vaking up." Fritz fretted.

    "Well, give her some more!" demanded the handsome man, who had long since discarded his faked accent.

* * * * *

    As Shorty surveyed the mess, he heard something - a sound, almost inaudible, coming from the other entry to the room that was now full of bugs.

    Fearful of the deadly spider that had escaped, the curator debated whether he should check it out or just shut the door. Soon curiosity won out when he realized that the other door would have to be shut also.

    Shutting the door behind him, he proceeded carefully across the bug-strewn room and through the door on the other side. Closing it behind him he looked around. Then, hearing a faint noise to the left and behind him, he whirled.

* * * * *

    After waiting for nearly half an hour, Muppet went looking for Meg for the second time... she had been gone way too long and he was worried. Striding down the hall with purpose in his step, he looked at the door of the women's room. He took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and marched inside.

* * * * *

    Goodsport walked quickly to the sidewalk and waved down a taxi. Climbing inside, he told the driver the location of the docks where Riggs had his seaplane 'parked.'

    Goodsport found it strange that Indiana Riggs hadn't been in his hotel room. Tonight didn't look like a good night to fly, and he had thought that Mr. Riggs would be staying in town for several weeks.

    Arriving at the docks, the P.I. asked the driver to wait and headed for the plane. Just as he was walking up to the plane, he heard the door on the other side of the plane open, followed by a big splash.

    Goodsport ran back up the docks and around the end of the plane to get a look at what had fallen in the water.

*************************

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