Black Widow

Copyright © October 2019 by CiaoSteve

CiaoSteve reserves the right to be identified as the author of this work.

This story cannot be published, as a whole or in part, without the express agreement of the author other than the use of brief extracts as part of a story review.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

Author's Notes

Foreword #1: All characters in this story are over 18

Foreword #2: This is pure fantasy and not intended to be seen as a piece of realism

Foreword #3: This was meant to be an entry for the 2019 Halloween Competition, but I sort of got myself tied up in a sticky spider's web. Oh well, hopefully I've just about untangled myself in time for Halloween itself if not the competition.

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

It was intended to be the trip of a lifetime, two weeks all inclusive in our own tropical paradise. At least that was how it had been promoted. The competition promised clear blue seas lapping up on miles of white sand, but just a stone's throw away from luscious natural rainforest. It had come out of the blue, an e-mail from the National Office of Tourism with a competition to win your dream holiday. I scanned the mail up and down, looking for the catch but not finding an obvious one. Even Google couldn't throw up anything untoward.

The place itself was an island by the name of Isla de Arañas, somewhere off the coast of Latin America. The only information I found spoke about it being a private island, home to a reclusive scientist and naturalist, which upon his death was passed back to public rule. After years of investment and modernisation, the island was only now being promoted again as a tourist destination. The competition was simply a way of getting some visitor numbers, and hopefully some good reviews and feedback. It was a little out of season, quite understandably, but still the weather forecast was better than home.

As with all of these too good to be true competitions, I quickly trashed the mail. Hence you can imagine the surprise when the congratulation mail followed a few weeks later. It turned out that Tom, my partner for the last ten years, had also received the same mail. Being more trusting than I was and based upon the fact that he never won anything, he had filled out the requested details and sent in his entry.

A few phone calls later and the arrangements had been made. We would spend our ten-year anniversary in the tropics, no expense spared. Yes, we were celebrating out tenth year together, but no we were not married and had no intention of settling down yet to tie the knot, let alone even thinking about having a family. We were both busy with our work lives, but we did live the mantra of "work hard, play hard". Ten years together was still worth celebrating.

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

We arrived in style, even if it was a little unorthodox. A six-seater seaplane flew the hour or so from the mainland, finally landing on the slightly choppy waters of a small bay. We had already been given a bird's eye view of our destination for the next two weeks as the plane flew right over the top of the island before swinging round and swooping back in to land. It looked amazing, a small island predominantly jungle covered, but with one or two fantastic looking beaches. There were four of us onboard; me, Tom and a couple from the US. Finally, the seaplane taxied — I guess, rather than taxying, it rocked to a stop in the light waves — to a halt and we were met by a couple of very traditional boats, propelled by nothing more than paddles and a lot of human effort. Before we knew it, we were on dry land.

That was the last we saw of the American couple as the resort itself was one of those more up-market places where every guest had their own individual lodge. Yes, there was a central area with restaurants and the like, but there was also the option to have everything served in your own little piece of paradise. It was the latter we decided upon. This was going to be a chill-out fortnight, waited on hand and foot, our lodge nestling on top of our own private beach. Jorge was assigned to look after us. He was a sweet guy, a little older than us, and ever so attentive. There was only one problem . . . language. His English was about as non-existent as our Spanish. So, we took to a mixture of very poor Spanglish and worldwide sign language. Even with the obvious communication problems, we really felt like valued guests and settled in well. He was uncanny though. Whenever we wanted something, Jorge would just appear as if from nowhere.

So, the first few days were simply chill-out time, the two of us, those crystal-clear waters and the warmth of that diamond-white sand. Cocktails on tap and delicious tropical food to boot . . . what more could you want? This really was our piece of paradise, at least for these two weeks.

If the days were paradise then the evenings were something else, maybe the word hasn't yet been invented. Dinner served just for us, under the setting sun, on our own private balcony. So relaxing, listening to the waves as they lapped up on the shore as we ate and drank, before finally returning inside to the distant sounds of the jungle night. For the first couple of nights we simply slept. Maybe it was the jetlag, or maybe just the fresh night air — it was so wonderful, no artificial sounds, no artificial lights, just natural peace and tranquility — but I slept better than I had for many a year.

By the third night, the sounds of the tropics were joined by a few added extras. What natural wildlife there was outside was soon joined by a little artificial wildlife inside; the creak of bedsprings adding to the chirp of insects and the squish of sodden sex blending in with the sound of lapping waves. Before too long a new species of howler monkey was screeching its song into the night air. The best night's sleep had become the best night's passion and I was loving every minute of it.

My skepticism had quickly disappeared and all I could do was thank Tom for entering. Whatever he wanted, all he had to do was ask and I would have gladly given. What went on in paradise, stayed in paradise, but suffice to say that a lot happened under those tropical night skies and we were both more than happy.

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

So here we were, enjoying our fortnight on Isla de Arañas. It was everything you could ever imagine of a beachside resort, but so far that was all we had seen, or even heard about. Being a private island, it was very underdeveloped. The complex was made up of the private sea-facing lodges and a larger communal area. There was a small village off site — presumably the residential area for servants and the like — and an old house up on the hill, but other than that, there was nothing else apart from the jungle clad slopes of a long since extinct volcano. It was perfect if you wanted a recluse but not if your idea of heaven was a holiday packed full of action and adventure.

By the second week I was simply longing for a little adventure. There was only so much sun, sand and sea that this girl could take. Something had to be done, and I was in one of those go get it sort of moods.

"Jorge," I practically shouted, beaming from ear to ear one morning. "Como estas?"

"Muy bien," he replied, smiling. "Te ves muy feliz esta mañana, Senorita Melanie. Su español es mucho mejor. ¿en qué puedo ayudarle?" he continued.

I stood there, staring at him. Yes, I had started this off with a quick burst of what little Spanish I knew, but I really wasn't ready for Jorge to reply in kind. Now I really didn't have a clue what he had said nor how to answer. There was a quiet pause as I racked my brains, looking for what I thought might be the right words. The still of the morning was broken by a hearty laughter. To one at least, my dilemma was something to be laughed at. I gave him a hard stare, a stare that even Paddington would have been proud of.

"I saying," he stopped laughing and tried in his broken English to talk to me, "you happy morning. I help you?"

I smiled back at him.

"Si, Jorge. I want to go out, to leave this place."

"Senorita Melanie, wants home to go?"

"No, no. I just want to go out."

"Que?"

"To go somewhere else. To go for a walk. To visit the . . ."

I took to sign language, using my fingers to imitate walking and then finally pointing in the direction of the jungle. There was another pause, this time with Jorge pondering how to reply.

"Peligro," was his one-word answer.

This time it was my turn to reply with a simple "que?"

"Danger, jungle danger. No go Senorita Melanie, no go."

I could tell by his expression that my question had hit a raw nerve. Why though was he reacting like this? The island was a postcard paradise, so what could be so dangerous about the jungle?

"I'll be careful Jorge, just a little walk."

"I tells you Senorita Melanie. Jungle danger."

"Okay, so where can I go?"

By now I was getting just a tad frustrated. I still had just under a week left on the island and spending every day on this beach with Jorge waiting on us hand and foot was not going to cut the mustard. I needed, if only for one day, to do something different.

"You walks the road, around the house but no mores. I telling you Senorita Melanie. Jungle danger."

So that was it. I could walk around the edge of the resort and back again. Some fucking exploration that would be, but I guess at least it would be a little exercise. Now to convince Tom that nobody would pinch his sun-lounger if we wandered off for a few hours. It shouldn't be too difficult, the only person we had seen in a little over a week was Jorge.

After a morning in the sun, sea and shade, and a hearty lunch, it was time for a little adventure. I knew just how to play young Tom. He was such a simple thing. All he needed was the right carrot to be dangled in front of him and the world was your oyster. I knew just which carrot would tickle his fancy today. Now, where was he? Wasn't a difficult question, after lunch he was always curled up on his favourite sun-lounger, usually half asleep. I crept up, not sure why as today he was totally out of it, but the idea of sneaking up on him was somewhat exciting. In a flash I had my hands over his eyes and planted a wet kiss on his cheek.

"Guess who?" I called out, knowing it wasn't exactly a mastermind sort of question given that there were just the two of us and Jorge on this bit of the island.

"Ugh," was the most educated response I got.

"Guess who?" I called out, planting another wet kiss on his cheek. "Wakey, wakey, Tom. I've got an idea for the afternoon."

"Ugh, not now Mel? Let me sleep."

I wasn't going to let him fob me off so easily. Today was my adventure day and whether he wanted to or not, Tom was coming with me. I practically hurdled over the lounger, landing with a thud across his midriff.

"Hey!" came a monosyllabic reply.

He didn't have time to say anything else, as my lips sealed tight against his. We sat for some time — okay actually he lay, and I knelt — embraced in that sensual kiss. Finally, I broke away and whispered closely in Tom's ear.

"Love you, Tom."

"Love you back," came a nonchalant, yet expected reply.

"I've been thinking," I continued, nibbling on his soft ear lobe as I whispered away. "Would be good to look around, don't you think? You know, a little walk through the natural beauty of this island."

"I dunno Mel, it's kinda cool just to chill by the sea."

"But I thought you were the adventurous type. I had you down as being my knight in shining armour, protecting the fair young maiden from whatever perils might cross her path. And in return, the fair maiden allows brave sir knight to have his wicked way with her. Oh well, if that's not for you then maybe Jorge can take me on an adventure."

With that I hopped off and made to walk away. I had no intention of going far as I knew Tom would take the bait. The mention of "wicked way" was the key to unlock his every need. As expected, I had taken a mere handful of steps when my gallant knight whisked me off my feet, carrying me back towards our lodge. It took a little longer than expected to get changed, but that look on his face as he blew his load into my open mouth was worth every minute. It was the appetizer, and Tom was left under no illusion that he would have to earn the main course.

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

The path, a one-time concrete roadway which was now showing signs of being reclaimed by nature, wound its way up the hill towards the big house. This was so out of keeping with the wooden lodges down by the sea. House? Well, that was probably taking it a bit far. Up ahead was a large two-story concrete structure filling the architectural gap between post-war modernist house and industrial laboratory.

When first built it was most likely an iconic example of fifties or sixties design. Now though, well, suffice to say that this one, unlike a bottle of fine wine, had not improved with age. Wide expanses of what was once brilliant white concrete had now become crumbling dirty walls. Windows, now cracked and broken, were equally tainted with decades of grime. What really struck home though was the way that nature seemed to be reclaiming this alien invader. It seemed that the idea of modernization hadn't quite reached this far.

There was something about this almost derelict relic of a previous age, which still had a sort of magnetism.

"Mel, what are you doing?" Tom called out as I veered from the concrete path and headed off through knee-length grass.

"Just curious," I replied, glancing back at him in a nonchalant mischievous sort of way. I was both curious and excited in equal measures.

"You shouldn't . . ." he continued, words now falling on deaf ears.

I found myself pushing my way between overgrown shrubs just to take a closer look.

Wiping away the decades of deterioration, I glanced through the first window. Inside was a bit of a time warp of an office. A large table and giant filing cabinets dominated the room. Metal framed chairs, now covered in huge cobwebs, were strewn across the floor giving the impression of some sort of commotion. To the side was a door. I tried the handle, but it was either locked or seized up. There was no way inside, not that it was really a good idea given the precarious state of the building.

The look of relief on Tom's face when I returned to the path was a picture.

"Mel, you can't just go off like that."

"Oh, chill out Tom. It's not like I'd gone off into the jungle alone, had I? And after all, it was just an office. Was in a bit of a mess though and looked like nobody had been there in years."

Back on the path, we followed it around to the rear of the building. On this side, there was a single-story extension, again in a state of disrepair. It was the same as before, dirty crumbling walls being overtaken by rambling plants, except that the windows were shattered rather than being cracked. I couldn't help myself but once again take a closer look, listening to Tom's protests and watching my step for broken glass as I walked up to a now empty window frame.

This was so different to the previous room. Rather than the office of the front, this was much more of a laboratory, albeit one which was now in a state of turmoil. Equipment was strewn everywhere, some smashed, other items just upended. There was the dark smokiness of an apparent fire in one corner and what seemed like faded red stains in various places. It was difficult to make out for sure, as every surface was covered in huge cobwebs.

"Come see, Tom," I shouted, looking closer into the chaos.

"No!" he retorted. "Now, you get back over here, Mel."

What struck me more than anything were the cages. They were everywhere, strewn across tables and floor, some with doors open, others shut.

"Ughhh," I gasped.

"What's wrong," came a concerned response.

I simply stared. There, in a cage, was the now decomposed body of some animal. It was the size of a large dog, but definitely not man's best friend. Maybe a monkey, I thought to myself. A monkey . . . yes, a monkey . . . a dead monkey. Even in its decayed state, I could sense the fear in what was left of its face.

I turned and set off to return to Tom. Whatever had gone on here had been tumultuous and rather final. I took a couple of steps and stopped. Was there a sound behind me? Maybe a sound back in that wrecked laboratory? I spun around but couldn't see anything more than dark shadows through the cobwebs. Was there movement? No, I couldn't be sure. It was just my mind playing tricks on me. With my heart pounding, I practically ran back to Tom.

"What did you say this place was?" I asked.

"I think it was a laboratory of sorts, but they were a bit reclusive. There isn't much about them."

"Them?"

"Yes, it's a bit of a strange tale if you believe everything Jorge tells you. There were two of them; the doctor and his younger female assistant. It seems he was a pioneer in animal genetics and preferred the privacy of this little island. She? Well, nobody knew if it was his daughter or not. Anyway, if you believe the locals, he would spend all hours in this laboratory, his only company being the younger woman and plentiful local wildlife."

"What exactly did he study?" I asked.

"How am I meant to know?" came an irked reply. "I thought you only wanted a bit of a walk and not a lecture in the sciences. Now, any more questions or shall we finish off what we started?"

"Yes," I replied, an expression of displeasure on my face. "What happened to them?"

"Now that is the interesting bit. It seems that they lost contact with the world. Even recluses have to order provisions from time to time, but when that stopped the alarm was raised."

"And?"

"Yes, that's the strange thing. His body was found in the house, dead!"

"Is that strange?"

"Hold your horses. I'm coming to that. They say that he was like a dried-out corpse of a man and covered in cobwebs. The assistant . . . well, her body was never found. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it looks like there's been one hell of a fight in there."

"What do you mean, a fight?"

"There's furniture and cages strewn everywhere, most broken. Even looks like there was a bit of a fire in there. And then, the windows. At the front they were all intact, but round here every last one is smashed. I guess I was curious to know what happened in there."

I looked Tom in the eyes, hoping for a comforting reaction. What I got though was laughter.

"Oh, my dear Mel," he chuckled. "You know what Jorge is like for telling a good tale. I guess his and your imaginations are running riot. You can see for yourself that nature has just being doing what it does best and reclaiming man's follies. It's not like you saw monsters in there, is it?"

My mind flicked back to that animal carcass and the impression of fear left behind on the decayed body. Monsters? Well, no, it was nothing more than a dead monkey, so why could I feel the fear in its now vacant eyes. Maybe it was just a little scaremongering from the locals but, even so, I could feel the chill of a sweat on my back and a slight rush in my breathing.

I was just getting my composure back when a thud from behind had me practically jumping into Tom's arms.

"What was that?" I asked, spinning around to face the laboratory. I grabbed Tom's hand and pulled him in front of me. There was something safe and secure in standing at the back.

"What was what?"

"That noise, that thud."