The Unnatural Disasters

1,p2. All the reasons not to trust strange women: Lazuli

If I come out of this situation alive, then I am going to become a committed arachnophobe.

The spider-things aren't moving right now- but in the past few minutes, I have learnt that by no means does that make them dead. They're just waiting: very stealthily, watching me as I watch them back. According to the clock on the wall, it's only been seven minutes since I was dropped here by that sadistic woman.
The clock is a liar.
It's been eternity.
I took her hand and closed my eyes, and then next thing I knew I and this thing was here, smashing up what appears to be a perfectly nice dorm room.
Why's it here, anyway? Who's going around, manufacturing creepy spider armies. There are quite a few better ways to spend your free time.

The spiders eyes flicker back on, glaring red. I'm sure, if I were a better author, I could come up with an impressive extended metaphor about the colour red on the spot. But I'm not that author, and this is not that story. So, assume that when I say 'red', I mean red.

The spiders swarm on the floor, a nightmarish carpet. I shudder: remembering back to what was spiritually centuries ago, and physically about five minutes. She had dropped me off in the corridor just outside this wretched place- I was feeling pretty confused and otherwise abandoned at the time, so opening the door had seemed like a good idea at the time. The things had been doing whatever mad robots do. Scuffing furniture and slice-and-dicing the carpet, mainly.

I feel nostalgic for then- before they'd swarmed on me, before I was the subject of their bizarre robotic hatred. It didn't last long.
Almost instantly, they were on me: tiny blades burrowing in, trying their hardest to find skin.
In the end, my jumper was what saved me. My legs weren't so lucky- I look like I've just walked through a bramble patch without trousers on- but it's a small sacrifice for the fact that those things A) can't climb, and B) can be brushed off easily enough.

I've spent the last few minutes lying on the top bunk of this bed, watching their cycle of waking up, rampaging, and shutting off.

And as the robots continue their erratic destruction, the door opens.

"Shut the door!" I yell. I'm on the wrong side- I can't see their face- but whoever it is, I don't want them to suffer the same fate that I did.
"Shut the door!"

The newcomer shuts the godforsaken door- behind them.

I get a good look at the guy, in the two seconds before the swarm spot him. Firstly, he's pale. Really pale. This-Guy-Is-Anemic pale. Everything else is only really noticeable after the paleness; his hair is a sort of hazel colour, curly and short at the sides. He's wearing a grubby hoodie. It neither fits nor suits him. Altogether, he looks like the kind of guy who looks like he should be wearing a boy sailor outfit in an embarrassing family photo. I'm pretty proud of myself, really, for noticing that much in the two seconds before the spiders notice along with me.
"I meant with you behind it!" I yell.
"I see that now!"
For a moment, I'm thrown for a loop by how high this guy's voice is. Think countertenor-in-a-choir high. But that's not my main priority right now: the spiders scuttling towards the guy are.

I sigh, and jump down the ladder. The first few robots are already at his feet- none are actually on him though, which is good news.
"Get up the ladder!"
He nods dumbly, and complies. The spiders- who had previously had their sights set on the newcomer- shift their attention again to me. Unfortunate.

I glance round at the other guy.
"I'm up!" He grins, from the top of the ladder. "Unless you're planning on heroic sacrifice, please join me!"
I grasp onto the ladder... and stop.

There's something on my leg. Dammit, there's something on my leg. Guess what!
It's not a cat. No, no normal and ordinary household object for me.
It just has to be a spider.