Chapter 6 of Indiana Jones and the Golden Spider

[ Reply ] [ The Indyfan Forum ] [ FAQ ]

Posted by Goodsport from adsl-216-102-199-185.dsl.snfc21.pacbell.net on June 06, 2000 at 08:01:10:



Chapter 6 - Sentiments


---by Deirdre Campbell


SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA


    "Monchichi!" Short Round raced after Michaelson and the other officers who were heading to the other side of the Police Department's building. Nearly stumbling through the open doorframe, he was bluntly knocked aside by a stout woman who was running out of the room, screaming from the top of her lungs. Shaking his head in amusement, he was wondering what could have frightened such a huge lady like that - when he was whacked to the wall as yet another screaming police officer fled past him.

    "Watch it!" he bellowed.

    Reprovingly, Michaelson looked over his shoulder and glared at him. "Didn't I tell you to stay put, Mr. Round?"

    Short Round shrugged and cranked his head over their heads, as to see what all the commotion was about.

    The whole room was in turmoil. Tables were overturned and papers were littering the floor. Policewomen were standing on their desks screaming their heads off, while the men were either roaming with their guns in firing position around the department or hiding their smirks behind a seemingly grim demeanor. On first sight the whole scene appeared utterly hilarious; on second thought…

    Another empty cage was lying in the center of the room. "Who fired those gunshots?" Michaelson demanded angrily.

    One of the men pointed at his companion. "Sgt. Abramoff here shot first. He was trying to protect his pahdner from certain death! That darn spider jumped right out of the cage as… as Melanie accidentally unlatched the snap, while she was carrying that container over to his err…desk," the officers stuttered.

    "So where the hell is that idiotic spider now?" Silence answered him.

    "Oh… oh no." The Chief of Police stepped back alarmed toward Michaelson. "That creature is highly dangerous, you morons! How could you have been so stupid as to let this happen! Everyone out of the room! NOW!"

    Just then Melanie, a tiny blonde, let out an ear-splitting shriek. Monchihi was perched right on top of the very desk where she was standing on. "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelp!"

    Indiana John dived for her just as he saw the spider, which was clearly irritated by the blonde's wailing, jump on her legs. Together they toppled behind the desk… with Monchichi in hot pursuit.

    "Monchichi… nooooooooo!" Short Round, no longer being able to contain himself, dashed after it - but he was too late. His prized pet had found its victim.


* * * * *


    "Alright, how much do you want?" Muppet pulled out his wallet from the insides of his white dinner jacket and slipped out more than half of its contents.

    Laughing out loud, Ulla tossed back her blond tresses. "Am I that transparent, Mister Muppet?" her voice was a low-pitched sexy Southern drawl that complemented her rugged boyish appearance.

    "Alright, how much?" he repeated, waving a wad of hundred dollar bills in front of her nose, clearly not as amused as she.

    She stopped laughing, her demeanor somber again, and pushed aside his money. "What makes you think I am hot for your cash? If I really wanted to make myself rich, I'd shoot you right now." Her gun pointed precariously near his face and he gulped, stepping back a few steps. "But," she continued and took the money nevertheless (perhaps it was so temptingly near), "I might need this in the future to find your red-haired little friend."

    "W-what do you want?"

    "What do I want?" The question was overstated, but it didn't make the situation appear any more pleasant for him. Warily, he watched the lady look him over from head to toe. Unthinkable! Ulla breached the distance between them with a few steps and placed her hand on his shoulder. She leaned over and whispered something in his ear, even though there was no one around to hear them.

    Just then, the door to the bathroom was pushed ajar and the head of an elderly lady peeked inside. Upon seeing the pair she ducked back out, whispering, "The young people of these days… no decency at all…"

    Ulla let out another sexy coarse laugh. She seemed to find the situation truly hilarious. After replacing her gun in her bag, she waved Muppet a farewell kiss and exited the bathroom, leaving him behind with a dead body in the middle of the ladies' lavatory.


* * * * *


    Indiana John reacted quickly, but not quickly enough to prevent the spider from landing on his face. His hand grabbed the spider by its body and he mercilessly squashed it, spraying its internal fluid all over on his head and upper body. The spider had been crushed to death.

    Monchichi was dead, but so was the very person who had killed it. The arachnid had fatally bit him between the eyes one last time before it'd given up its life. An eye for an eye.


* * * * *


BELO HORIZONTE, BRAZIL


    Indiana Jones glanced above Webley's head and squinted. "Look there! Behind you!" He pointed at the gargantuan creature standing above him and his guards.

    "But Jones, I thought better of you than your silly tricks," the Belgian snickered as his gaze didn't waver away from Jones and his pupil. "I'll give you ten seconds to tell--"

    He never finished his sentence. The spider, obviously exasperated at the loss of attention, had grabbed the biggest chunk of flesh nearest to him and smashed the living body in its claws. Horrified, Webley backed away as he watched one of his tribesmen being crushed by the horrendous beast.

    Indiana took the opportunity to kick Webley's pistol from his hand. The gun flew in a high arch right before the arachnid's feet. Weaponless, both men grappled each other to the ground. Meanwhile, Micah grabbed one of the abandoned spears of the tribesmen who had scurried away in fright and waggled the javelin furiously in the gigantic spider's direction in hopes of frightening it. However, instead of banishing it, he upset it even more as the eight legs inched even closer and closer towards them.

    "Doctor Jones!"

    "What?"

    "We have a little problem here."


* * * * *


    The last thing James remembered before he lost consciousness was that they had fallen down the gorge and hit hard ground, and that he had undesirably been separated from the rest. He had no idea how much time had passed since that event, but when he opened his eyes he saw nothing. Absolute pitch-black darkness greeted him.

    Wriggling his toes and fingertips as to acknowledge the intactness of his limbs, he felt like he was floating and that his body felt rather numb. He stretched and tried extending his arms. The sudden motion of his limbs set his whole body swaying.

    Slowly adjusting to the darkness, his eyes took in his crude surroundings. He was trapped in some sort of cocoon. Remembering his Swiss knife that he always kept in his back pocket, he pulled it out of his pocket and snapped it open.


* * * * *


NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

    Chief Inspector K. Allard shook her hand and escorted the lady to the door. Detective Fiddler tagged behind them silently. "Miss… I mean Professor Campbell, thank you for all the information you were able to present."

    Apologetically, she met his eyes. "It was all I knew. Pardon me if I have not been able to support you sufficiently on the case. But I am sure those fingerprints on the 'E' mail will bring out poignant results."

    For the past few hours, both police and reporters had interrogated her mercilessly about the incident at the Murray Hill Hotel. She felt drained and weak. The Chief Inspector shot Detective Fiddler a meaningful look.

    "You must be exhausted. Detective Fiddler here will safely escort you home, if you don't mind being brought home in a squad car." He nodded one last time and then walked back inside, forehead wrinkling in consternation.

    In awkward silence, Deirdre and the Fiddler stared at each other.

    "Where do you live?" the latter inquired flippantly.

    "Ahm, about some blocks uptown," she lied, "but don't worry, I can get home on my own. I am a big girl." With that she left him standing by the doorsteps.

    He caught up with her at the bottom of the stairs. "Hey!"

    She whirled around. "Yes, Detective?"

    "Call me Fiddler." He said, cracking a smile.

    "Yes… Fiddler?" she repeated, not returning his attempt at friendliness.

    "Uh… I'd better bring you home. You never know what might happen. I don't think those goons at Murray have given up that easily."

    "Whatever makes you happy," she mumbled.

    "What?"

    "Nothing."

    "Hey! If you are so eager to get your head blown off, I'm out of here!"

    Deirdre sighed and gave him a smoldering look. "Okay. Where's the car?"


* * * * *


    "Faster! Come on!"

    Tessa ran up the passage leading to the balcony seats. Jayne followed close behind.

    "There they are!" Goodsport spotted them as they rounded around the corner. He nearly collided in with the theater guide.

    "Tickets please."

    "Step aside--"

    "Sir, your tickets please," the man repeated slowly, not budging from his spot.

    "What about those two women who just passed by?!" Indiana Riggs who had caught up with Goodsport, glared at the guide angrily.

    "What women?"

    Irritated, Goodsport pulled out some identification and shoved it under the man's nose. Don't know what good my gun-license will do here, but it's worth a try…

    "Hmm?"

    Confused, the man hopped aside and scratched his head as the P.I. and the pilot brushed passed him. "Hey! Wait! Wait… where are you going?!"

    The two men stepped on several feet on the way through the theater and received equally loud protesting yells from the cinema viewers. Indiana Riggs pointed to the half-open fire exit. Apparently, the women had escaped through there. They spurted to the door.

    Bright sunshine blinded their eyes for a moment. They closed the door behind them and looked up the stairs of the fire exit, straight into the nozzles of Tessa's and Jayne's guns.

    They had been waiting for them. Expertly she aimed her gun at the private eye. "Stop right there. Drop your guns."

    Complying, they stopped in their tracks and surrendered their firearms.

    "Shit," Riggs muttered, "overpowered again by the females. I wish I'd stayed at home with my plane."


* * * * *


    "Pah! Spider silk!" James Lambert grimaced.

    Either the knife was no good or the spider's net was too thick for his blade to penetrate. He'd been scraping at it for about half an hour and all he was able to come through with was a tiny vertical slit.

    Peeking through, he saw part of the upper web.

    He assumed that he must be somewhere near the ceiling. The spider had wrapped him, its prey, and had left him for dead… perhaps only to return later… for a midnight snack?


* * * * *


    "Nice place you have here," Detective Fiddler whistled as Deirdre led him into her cozy home. They had driven only for a couple of minutes when she had instructed him to enter a little side road that led them further uptown and uphill. They had finally stopped before a huge gate, which was immediately opened by a guard, upon which he recognized Deirdre. They had driven up a gravel road towards a romantic-looking Victorian villa, which stood amidst tall trees and a wild-growing garden, when she had finally had told him to stop in front of a little fountain that formed the centerpiece for the circular driveway. Having invited the Fiddler inside for a cup of tea or coffee, he accepted and trailed after her into the interior of the house.

    "I didn't know that scientists lived so extravagantly," he commented, eying the antique furniture and costly paintings on the walls.

    "The house belonged to my husband. He inherited it from his grandparents."

    "Oh." Inquisitively, he picked up a framed photograph of a man, clearly a scientist at work. "Is this him?"

    "Don't touch that!" Snatching the frame away from him, she replaced it on the shelf.

    "Oh, excuse me."

    She bit her lip and looked down. "I am sorry. I haven't got used to having people again at this place. It has been quite some time since we… I have had company." Her voice faltered and he almost thought she might start to cry again like she had in the park. How glad he was when she motioned him to follow her to the kitchen. Bachelor that he was, he never really had learned to deal with women and their tears. It sure made him feel uneasy.


* * * * *


ALBERTA, CANADA


    Brett clicked the intercom to contact his newly-appointed secretary. "Jeef? Put me through to California. I need to talk with Michaelson."

    "Okay, hold on."


* * * * *


    "He's dead." Michaelson stepped back from the corpse.

    Speechless, Short Round just stood there. He looked at the dead spider, then again at the dead policemen and couldn't make his mind up for which he felt more grief. Monchichi had been his favorite pet. He'd gotten her during one of his more memorable travels in Africa several years ago. The gypsy who had sold it to him had said that one day it would save his life - and that her death would follow soon. Of course at the time he had laughed at the ridiculous prediction. HAH! A spider saving your life. Now as he stood there… he remembered the foretelling. He wasn't much of an emotional type, and tears didn't spring to his eyes, yet he just felt a deep ache in his heart. A pain he knew would only be transitory…


* * * * *


    "Either way you are a dead man, Goodsport," Tessa said, smirking devilishly, "you might as well tell me where that 'Golden Spider' is."

    "Argh! What is it with you people and this golden bug?! I have no possible idea why everyone is so wild about it."

    "But you know where it is, don't you?"

    "NO! Neither does Indiana Riggs."

    "Don't lie. We saw that Italian chick come out of your office. She must've told you something."

    "Oh, so that is how you know who I am," he grinned, "I thought my reputation had exceeded me at least this time." It probably has now, having gotten on Nobody's bad side.

    "Quit changing the subject. What did she tell you?"

    "To find something for her."

    "And?"

    "That's all. I am still investigating the case. So far all the clues I got lead me nowhere."

    Tessa shot Jayne an apprehensive glance. "You can shoot him if you want. He doesn't know anything."

    "WAIT!" The P.I. pulled out something from his pocket. "She gave me this."

    "What is it?"

    "You tell me."

    Curiously, the women leaned over to inspect the piece of paper. "There's nothing on it!"

    "Right."

    Tessa didn't see what hit her. In a split second Goodsport had knocked her out, taken the gun from her and pointed it at Jayne.

    "You don't need that, honey," Indiana Riggs smirked as he took Jayne's weapon from her.


* * * * *


    Concealed in the shadows of the shabby downtown apartment, he watched her sleep. If one would call it sleep at all; it was more like a tossing and turning from one side of the creaky unwashed mattress to the other. Once in a while she would whimper and speak incoherent words. He had tried moving closer to listen to the utterances, but had not been able to distinguish any significant messages. He supposed that she was just dreaming worthless stuff that didn't mean a thing.

    In the far distance he heard a car screech around the corner and come to a halt below, in front of the building where he was in. He stood up and drew back the curtains a bit and looked down. The Germans had finally come back.

    A few minutes later the door the room burst open and the Nazis entered, dragging along a writhing madman.


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





Follow Ups:



Post a Followup:

Name:    
E-Mail:  
Subject: 
Comments:

Optional:

Link URL:   
Link Title: 
Image URL:  


[ Follow Ups ] [ Post Followup ] [ The Indyfan Forum ] [ FAQ ]