16.11

Worm, Chapter 16.11 Summary

A bullet struck Skitter, but her armor held. A sledgehammer to the chest, she thought, as she hit the ground, unable to scream. Bugs, prepped with capsaicin and cords, swarmed towards Thomas Calvert and his soldiers, biting and forming a barrier.

Calvert, face shielded, emptied his clip towards her, but Skitter’s bugs pulled his gun off target. “Out of the room,” he ordered, voice muffled, “Set her on fire.” Two men, masked and holding makeshift Molotov cocktails, approached. Skitter felt the hot bullet embedded in her armor, the shock of impact. The realization sparked clarity: she was alive.

She sprayed pepper spray, igniting one man’s sleeve. He thrashed, dropping the lighter. Skitter, in agony, struggled to rise as her bugs ensnared the other man’s Molotov. Calvert, from the next room, snarled, “Damnation.”

Grenades were considered, then dismissed by Calvert. He tore the Molotov from the ensnared man and tossed it, not at Skitter, but at the floor. Gasoline spread. The burning man screamed, charged, and was shot by Calvert, then kicked back into the spreading flames.

Panic seized Skitter. Trapped, she had no escape but a containment foam hurdle, a pool of fire, a flailing man, and a barricaded door. Calvert’s men stacked furniture against it as Skitter’s scant bugs clung to them, the rest incinerated.

The house, ruined by Leviathan, was isolated, surrounded by fences and trucks, soldiers at the ready. The windows were screwed shut with hexagonal screws, a detail that made Skitter laugh, a crazed sound that triggered a coughing fit.

She sent three black widows to bite Calvert. He flicked one away, unfazed. “Burn it to the ground,” he ordered. Molotovs flew. Skitter, coughing, whispered, “Fuck you.”

She considered the weakened floor, then dismissed it. The window was her only hope. She fired her gun, splintering boards. The recoil was agony. Coughing, she pulled a board free, attracting gunfire. She hid, lying flat as bullets struck.

Cockroaches, able to eat anything, were directed to the trucks, eating wires. Headlights flickered out. Skitter formed decoys with her bugs, drawing fire. She dropped to the ground, writhing in pain, her injured arm screaming.

A molotov incinerated a decoy at the fence. Calvert wasn’t directing, just watching from his truck. Skitter crawled, forming a decoy above her, joining the others advancing on the fence. Another molotov struck, thinning the defensive line.

Her range extended, but no second trigger event came. She whispered threats through her bugs, a psychological attack. They raided pockets, searching. She tied a grenade to the fence with silk, another to a soldier. “Lose the grenades,” her swarm buzzed, “I’m pulling a pin.”

The pin slid free. The soldier tossed the grenade towards the house. It detonated, ripping the fence, scattering soldiers. “She’s pulling the pins!” someone shouted. The line thinned further. A flare landed, threatening to reveal her.

Skitter repeated the process, aiming for the other side of the fence. The grenade landed short, but the soldiers retreated. More threats: “Crawl up your asshole and leave you some tapeworms.” “Centipedes beneath your eyelids. Chew your eyes out.” “Wonder if a mosquito could pass on H.I.V.?”

“Do not throw the grenades,” Calvert ordered. Skitter crawled, feeling an impact on her face. A soldier heard, fired. Skitter lunged, pulling a tab on the soldier’s belt. Smoke billowed. She used it for cover, scavenging more silk, pulling more pins.

Chaos ensued. Calvert’s truck pulled away. Was he deeming this a loss? Or did he have another maneuver in mind? Leverage? Her dad. The others. She had to get away, quickly.

She chose to check on the Undersiders and Dinah. It was a decision she’d made too often. If her dad was attacked, the Undersiders could help. If the opposite were true, her dad would hamper her.

She started a scavenged truck, driving slowly. Calvert’s plan was grand, and she was a glitch. He knew more about her than anyone she’d fought. He’d tried to strike at her directly, and she’d barely escaped. He had other plans, traps, and she had no choice but to run into them.