The Cadaverous "Wind Scorpions" (Flash Eldritch Fiction))

The Cadaverous "Wind Scorpions"
((The Camel Spider) (the Matevenados))

The Camel Spider



They had just finished a skirmish in the Afghanistan Desert, with the insurgents (a group of Taliban soldiers), it was a hit and run and suicide style tactic, for evidently they didn’t have any more capabilities. But there was much firing of small arms, and perhaps twenty-five of the insurgents, to a platoon type squad, of Americans, numbering a twelve, Josh McCord, an American Soldier, Buck Sergeant, was left for dead, and the platoon hightailed it out of there as they saw reinforcements coming to the rescue the—already, outnumber insurgents.
Two other American Soldiers were shot, out of the twelve, evidently they had time to pick them up, and drag them into their vehicle, but the Buck Sergeant was too far out into the open (several of the insurgents were killed also). Everyone—alive in the platoon that is—agreed, the three shots the sergeant took to his chest, were fatal, and even Staff Sergeant Garrison, said: “No man could survive that, he didn’t even have shirt on, he just had gone mad and shot several of the enemy to pieces, before he fell, we’ll come back tomorrow and pick up his body.”

When Josh McCord woke up, it was to a hot empty desert, no enemy, no friends, only twenty large six inch Camel Spiders, known as wind scorpions, surrounding him, and in the distance twenty more running as fast as a dog, perhaps fifteen, if not thirty-miles an hour, to see what their comrades were interested in. He had been shot once in the shoulder, once in and hip, and ones in his arm, bullets went through his body, like paper. Now he looked at his chest and arms a second time, it had spider bites on them. He knew they were usually not deadly to humans, more so poisonous for animals, but as he looked, he murmured, “Twenty, at least twenty, and there they come, another bunch.”
Lt. General. Martin Dempsey, acting commander of U.S. forces was in the region, and so most likely, the roads would be deserted, insuring his protection, so he didn’t expect any help until the following day, he was on his own, and now staring at over fifty of these wind-scorpions, he dreaded even to make a move.
He looked about, it was getting dark, how long he asked himself did he sleep, he figured with the bites he had, ones that hurt now, but didn’t before, the reason being, the giant insects inject an anesthetic into him, they did that to numb their prey, as it was injected into him, he didn’t want to fall back to sleep, if he did, the spiders would start all over again, and now they had him cornered, no need to search or hunt for him, only to wait, and when he fell to sleep, chew chunks of flesh out of him.
This was worse than war, he told himself.
All of a sudden, one large spider jumped three feet in the air, over his body to the other side of him; he perhaps was one of the several that bit him, for blood was on its front legs. Then he laughed, said aloud exclaimed,
“…maybe you think I’m a camel (ha-ha, ha!), and you want to eat my stomach dry, that’s why they call you Camel Spiders, yaw? They eat the stomachs out of Camels (ha-ha ha!)”
Once he slept, the spider would gnaw on him he concluded, and he’d not even notice it, wake up dead in hell or heaven, or to a body that looked like hamburger.
‘Why didn’t they check for a pulse,’ he angrily cried, ‘just assume I’m dead so you can get out of here and see that general, and have a hot meal.’


For the Buck Sergeant, it was the Day of the Dead, he knew these creatures normally did not choose to fight, unless provoked, so he remained still, and he also know, they had formidable jaws, so he had to be cautious in every movement he made, lest he get some of their painful bites, awake instead of sleeping. Either way he was fighting for survival. He also concluded they were attracted to light, so as soon as he could he had a plan, a flimsy one at best.
He lay there for several hours more, and then came twilight, and dark, he took his flashlight out turned it on, tossed it several feet from him, all fifty creatures circled it, and slowly he got up, he figured they’d hunted at night, so it was between the light, and sucking juices out of him or other creatures when they decided to hunt.
All of a sudden a lizard, ran past the Sergeants foot, and several spiders heard, and chased the lizard, capturing it, sedating it, then several move moved away, as if they were looking for dinner, rodents and perhaps perched birds on rocks or shrub about.
Now the sergeant was on the dirt road, he had made it without having the creatures attack him, although he couldn’t see what was behind him, and lucky he did not, it would have been heart failure or sure, only the moon above him for light, and the herd now more than a hundred followed the shadow he left. There, on the roadside, feeling weak and safe, he fell to sleep, and slowly the creatures surrounded him, numbed him so he could not feel what they had planned.

In the morning, Staff Sergeant Garrison came back to pick up the Buck Sergeant’s body, chasing, and running over the many spiders on the road, and then they saw the Buck Sergeant, and several soldiers jumped out of the vehicle, chased the uncountable number of spiders away that surrounded him—only to find him alive, but his legs chewed up, nibbled to the bone, and the sergeant covering his face with his hands, which were also bleeding bad from bites.

8-28-2008