znaddanz

Funnel-web spiders are medium-to-large robust spiders that tend to be dark or black in colour. These spiders measure up to 5 cm. They have stout legs and prominent fang-bearing chelicerae that deliver a neurotoxic venom. The common name derives from the funnel-like entrance to silk-lined subterranean burrows built by both males and females. The Sydney funnel-web spider (A robustus) is responsible for most reported envenomations and the only confirmed deaths in humans. However, bites from other funnel-web spiders, particularly the northern tree spider, Hadronyche formidabilis, are likely to cause serious envenomation syndromes and are potentially deadly if untreated.

- Excerpt from Funnel-web spider bite: a systematic review of recorded clinical cases, Medical Journal of Australia

Cammie placed a plastic ice cream container on the counter in front of Anthony, smiling proudly at her achievement, waiting to spring her surprise. The container itself used to contain raspberry swirl ice cream, but those days were long gone, the sticker on the lid of the container was wilted at the edges and faded throughout. In addition to this, someone had punched five millimeter-sized holes in the lid.

“What’s in it?” Anthony asked tentatively, giving the appearance of someone bemused.

“Guess.” Cammie teased.

“Okay. Ice cream?”

“Spiders!” Cammie declared.

“Spiders?” He replied with distaste.

“Yeah, Sydney Funnel webs, like we saw on that poster at the A&E. Aussie's most deadly, apparently.”

“So you think … suicide by spider-bite?”

“Yeah! Its perfect really- no-one could doubt death by spider. Hardly happens anymore but you still hear about it enough for it to be plausible. You’ll be like a modern-day Steve Irwin.”

“Steve Irwin only died a year ago.”

“Yeah whatever, look, this is the plan, and it’s a sure thing. Bit by the spiders, foam at the mouth a bit, maybe vomit as well, massive electrical overload to the old nervous system, painful paralysis, cataleptic coma, then death. I’ll be out getting an alibi so the timing is good, too.” She said cheerily.

Anthony seemed more than a little concerned by Cammie’s new breeziness. “Did you say spiders, as in plural?”

”Yeah, that’s sort of the rub, Anth. The venom from one spider doesn’t always do the trick, it’s enough to kill babies and invalids, but in regular adults it really just makes you sick for a while. You need a double or a triple dose to really do the trick. So I got four.”

”Wherever did you get them?” he said, still perplexed by the whole affair.

“Oh, you know, pet stores.” She said nonchalantly.

“Pet stores sell the most poisonous spiders in the world?”

”Well, you know, they’re a collector’s item, but if you ask the right people and pay the right price.” She was talking herself up, of course. She had a friend who was into weird pets, was a little weird himself to tell the truth, and he knew where to find them. He hadn’t asked for any money, but even if he had, she figured a little investment at this stage would be worth the return.

“I’m not so sure I like the whole pain bit.”

”That’s okay, I got you some painkillers as well.” She said, throwing a packet of diazepam on the table next to the ice cream container. She’d nicked them from her mum on her last family trip home- she thought she might need to zone out over Christmas dinner, but as it had turned out she hadn’t so she had some prescription-strength painkillers to spare. They were probably a bit out of date but in Cammie’s experience that usually made them a bit stronger, or a bit trippier, she wasn’t sure. “Sure they’ll find some narcotic in your bloodstream but it probably makes sense that a guy suffering from extreme abdominal pain would try to take a few painkillers to knock himself out. They’ll probably think you didn’t know what was happening to you and either didn’t call a doctor or passed out before you could get around to it. Probably happens more than you think, a man thinking he’s so damned tough that he literally badasses himself to death. You’ll be remembered well for your stoicism. I’ll probably have it inscribed on your gravestone. Do I have to go to your funeral? Are your parents even alive?”

“You don’t have to go to my funeral- I’ll be cremated.” He said, avoiding the latter question. “Anonymously. The arrangements have been made, there won’t be much for you to do.”

”Who have these arrangements been made with, anyway?” She asked with feigned indifference. “Shouldn’t I at least say hello to your lawyer at some point? From the sounds of things I will be spending more time with him than I will with you.”

”I wouldn’t worry about that, he has your details. It’s all in hand.”

“Yeah you keep saying that. How do I know that, once you’re dead and I’ve been put through the ringer, there’s no insurance, no inheritance?”

He looked genuinely taken aback. He took a step away from her, and then took it back. “You don’t trust me?”

”I don’t know anything about you Anth, except that you’re a little bit unhinged and, despite your protestations, you seem like the last guy in the world capable of killing himself.”

“And you don’t think that bothers me? That I can’t do what I need to? I thought you were going to help me.”

“Well that’s what I’m doing, Anth, I’m here to help you. So down those diazepam, stick your hand in that box, and let’s get this show on the goddamned road.”

“Fine!” He said, showing more emotion in this moment than she had seen from him yet. He picked up the packet and popped two pink tablets out of their silver-foil shells- they tinkled on the counter as they bounced and spun to a stop. He went to one of his cupboard, opened it, took out a glass and filled it with water, glaring at her as he did so, as if to dare her to stop him. She did not. He clumsily gathered the two little pills together, sliding them along the counter until they reached the edge, pushing them off and catching them again with the same hand. He threw them back into his gullet and then chased them down with a two-second gulp of water. He took a gasping breath and then stuck out his tongue at her to show the tablets were indeed gone. He took no move towards the ice cream container. Cammie waited for him to take the next step and, when he did not, did so for him.

“You going to take the next step, Anth?” Cammie said, walking to the container and peeling the plastic lid away. Inside was some dirt, a little bit of foliage, and four black spiders- not large in body, but each with long, thin legs that covered the area the size of a teacup. “Put your hand in here, and it’s all over.”

Anthony moved his hand towards the entrance of the container, hovered it over the rectangular empty space it formed. He stopped there, did not move further. His hand curled into a fist, and shook slightly.

“Down you go.” Said Cammie, not without venom herself.

Anthony’s fist continued to stay still. It moved down an inch, then moved back up again. Sweat broke out on his forehead, which had gone red.

“Still can’t bring yourself to it?” She said, mocking him.

“I told you, I can’t.” he said. “I wish I could but I can’t!” He seemed genuinely distressed. His hand started to move away from the container, but Cammie was prepared for him, stepped right up into the space between his arm and his flank, grabbed his wrist with both hands, then shoved his fist downward forcefully, right into the container.

As she suspected, being much smaller physically, she was not as strong as him, but was strong enough to surprise him, push his one arm down with both of hers, and hold it there for a few seconds- that was all it took. She could not see into the container itself from her vantage point, but she through she heard the dry crackling of one of the spiders being crushed, and with Anthony struggling to get his hand out of the small plastic box, that was sure to cause the remaining spiders, usually loathe to attack any creature that did not threaten them, to panic and strike back immediately. It only took a moment. Cammie did not hear the bites, obviously, but Anthony spasmed twice, strongly enough to send his hand flying from the box, throwing it onto the floor. Two of the spiders, along with a considerable quantity of dirt and bark, were flung from the box and quickly scuttled away to the nearest dark corner. Cammie paid them no mind, and immediately crouched to where Anthony had fallen to the floor, cradling his bitten hand to his chest, moaning loudly to himself.

“It got me, they all got me.” He said painfully, before emitting a low groan. And he was right, Cammie could see at least two large red blisters on his hand, growing larger even as she looked on them.

“That’s good right?” Cammie said comfortingly. “The pain will pass and you’ll just fade away, just like you wanted. That’s what you wanted, right?”

He moaned again. “I … I don’t know … I thought maybe … there was a way out.”

“What way out, Anth?” She said desperately, knowing there was a deeper truth but not knowing how to get to it. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why couldn’t that be the way I could help?” She said, grabbing his contorting face with both hands and twisting it around so that he was looking her in the face.

“I … I thought you might …” His words were punctuated by groans. “I thought you might try to save me.”

He stopped twisting and stared straight at her face. He took his good hand away from his bitten hand and moved it to her cheek, rested it there, looked deep into her eyes and said again: “I thought you might save me.”

It was clear what he wanted. Cammie was not attracted to Anthony, but she desperately wanted to save him, more than she wanted money, more than she wanted the imagined future that might bring. She wanted to responsible for saving his life, she wanted to rescue him, to make him feel something, to make him admit that life was worth living, so that she might believe it for herself. If that could be the one good thing she did in her life, that would make it important, make it worthwhile. Slowly, hesitatingly, she bought her face closer to his, and kissed him. It was easier than she thought it might be, kissing someone she did not desire, and so there, on the floor of the kitchen, she tried to bring him back to life.

*

They lay together on the floor of his lounge a short while later. They were both naked, and Cammie felt extremely uncomfortable with this, but at the same time not uncomfortable enough to move and get dressed, which she felt would have been more uncomfortable still. More than any matter of comfort, she wanted to know if she had gotten through to him, had made him feel something, anything at all, that might bring him out of his languor. She took her head from off his chest and looked directly at him, hoping to see some hint of emotion, and she did. His eyes were bleary and out of focus, presumably from the diazepam, and they were also wet from tears- from pain or pleasure or emotion she did not know, so she asked.

"What are you feeling?"

"Afraid." He said. His speech was slurred by the painkillers, which tended to make one feel spacey and stoned.

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid of dying."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes. But, everything's different now."

"Is it?" She said, trying to lead him to where she wanted him to go.

"Yes."

"What's changed?"

"Well, this." he said, gesturing absently to their naked bodies. " ... and the fact that I'm dying." He laughed drunkenly at such a statement. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"How was it supposed to be, Anthony?" She asked urgently.

His eyes lolled halfway shut. "I so wanted you to save me. I didn't know you'd be the one to kill me."

"How did you want me to save you? Is this what you wanted to happen?"

"I thought ... " His eyes rolled backwards into his head and his eyelids shut. Cammie slapped him hard on the face to wake him back up. He seemed surprised to find himself naked, but saw her and smiled. "Do you love me, Cammie?" He said.

"Yes." She said immediately. She didn't, but if that's what it took to save him, then she had already prepared herself to say it. He smiled, and his eyes closed again. He mumbled the same thing he had said a minute earlier.

"I so wanted you to save me. I didn't think you'd be the one to kill me."

"Kill you?"

He held his bitten hand aloft, showing her the two ugly red welts that had been caused by the spider bites. "Nervous system shutting down, remember? I can feel it going."

"Oh!" She said, and laughed. "Those were just trap-door spiders. It hurts a lot when they bite, but they're not poisonous. They might itch a bit over the next week, but you'll be fine."

"What?" He said, alarmed and snapping back to full consciousness momentarily, before fading quickly again into a pharmacological haze.

"Yeah, the funny feeling you're getting is probably just the diazepam. It's pretty strong stuff. You should feel pretty great."

"But ... why did you tell me they were poisonous?"

Cammie tried to explain, even though she had not fully thought out the explanation herself: "I wanted you to think it was going to happen, to really look death in the eye, and want to come back. Come back to me."

"You tricked me?"

"Yeah, but it was a good trick. Here we are, right? Do you want to stay?"

"With you?" He said dreamily. "Yeah, I do."

"Great!" She said, hugging him happily. Her mind was whirring with possibilities. Whether she stayed with him or not, whether she loved him or not, no matter what the future held, she had bought him back from the brink, and it felt good to be a hero.