Spider Seeds
By David Tocher
5/5
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About this ebook
Madison Perth’s new houseplant hides a menacing secret—it’s really a vicious spider, ravenous for human prey.
Trapped in her condo, Madison must fight to survive as the terror closes in.
Prepare yourself for the deadly harvest of...SPIDER SEEDS
RAVE REVIEWS FOR DAVID TOCHER
“David Tocher is a Wizard of Words and a Master of Literary Mayhem...and in addition to being a superb writer, he is also a very nice and very cool guy. I highly recommend David and his work!”
— Stephen Spignesi, New York Times-bestselling author of Stephen King, American Master
“David Tocher is a new voice with a dedicated desire to reveal to us the haunting spaces between worlds.”
— Nancy Kilpatrick, author of Thrones of Blood series
“David Tocher is a master storyteller whose imagination knows no equal. His stories transport you into realms that will make you never want to return to reality.”
— Karen Dales, author of The Chosen Chronicles
“I could read Tocher all day long, rain or shine. You can tell when a writer has immersed himself in the literary greats. Tocher is such a talent.”
— James Pyne, author of FUEL
“David Tocher is not only a great writer, he’s also a master craftsman in the art of storytelling.”
— Franklin E. Wales, author of The Legacy of Frankenstein
“Tocher’s ability to write an amazing story is overshadowed only by his ability to create compelling characters designed to ruin you.”
— Caitlin Marceau, award-winning author of This Is Where We Talk Things Out
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Spider Seeds - David Tocher
PROLOGUE
Clear in Madison Perth’s memory, from that night in the early nineties, were the sting of humiliation from the cruel prank and the malice in Ashley Green’s eyes. Even as the years passed and she entered her forties, those eyes—dark with hatred as Ashley and her friends circled her—continued to haunt Maddy. Whenever she allowed herself to revisit that crushing night, or when something in the present stirred the memory, that old resentment would crawl up within her, entangling her in the viscous silk of overwhelming rage, which she always found difficult to unstick herself from.
In those days, fifteen-year-old Maddy lived in Clydebank, British Columbia—a small town nestled along Highway 93, tucked between Cranbrook and Fernie. Enwreathed by rolling foothills that climbed steadily toward the Rocky Mountains, whose jagged, snow-capped peaks were starkly silhouetted against the sky year-round, Clydebank had a population of about three thousand. The town was marked by a single intersection with traffic lights and clusters of small businesses and homes. Forestry was the mainstay of Clydebank’s economy, centered around a sawmill that loomed over the town. Its towering wigwam burner, with its glowing orange top, belched black smoke that twisted sideways in the wind. The sawmill’s ceaseless clanking and humming—the symphony of metal on metal, blades on lumber, and the beep-beep of trucks backing up—became so ingrained in the town’s fabric that its residents scarcely noticed the endless industrial din.
It was a Friday night in April, and Maddy was alone at home. Her parents were attending a professional development workshop in Cranbrook, which required them to stay overnight. They lived in Saddleback Sub, a neighbourhood named for the rodeo grounds around which the houses had been built. The Perths had relocated there from Calgary the previous fall, and, since then, Maddy had struggled with adjusting to her new life. Clydebank Regional Secondary School had proven to be a difficult social landscape for Maddy. Although she had made few friends in Calgary, the anonymity of the big city had offered her some refuge.
Tonight, she was finding sanctuary in the pages of Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë, making friends with Heathcliff, Catherine Earnshaw, and Edgar Linton. In the tight-knit community of Clydebank, building relationships was tougher, and, even worse, being without a social circle meant constant scrutiny. That scrutiny quickly turned to judgment, and judgment spiraled into bullying. Maddy’s worst tormentor was Ashley Green, a girl in the same grade as her, and known for her striking beauty and commanding presence. Ashley was the object of desire for many teenage boys at CRSS, including those who despised her for her cruelty. The only boy who was the object of Ashley’s desire was Mitch Taylor, her boyfriend, the town’s star basketball player. Mitch, like Ashley, was as popular as he was rotten.
As Maddy adjusted herself on the couch and turned the page, she thought, I’d rather deal with the contemptible characters in fiction, like Hindley Earnshaw, rather than the ones in real life. Maddy often wondered why other kids, especially the popular ones, couldn’t merely enjoy their good looks and popularity amongst themselves, and leave everyone else alone. But even at fifteen, she also understood that life—and social hierarchies—didn’t work that way.
Maddy took a sip of her tea and, before resuming chapter nine, reflected on how, at least for her, dealing with scoundrels in real life meant learning to navigate her world with caution. For instance, during lunch and recess, she would retreat to the school library. After school, she sought refuge either at home or at the Clydebank Public Library. In these places, the oppressive presence of Ashley Green and her ilk was absent. Here, there were no degrading insults hurled her way, no challenges to a fight, no sudden ambushes or pointless assaults. Here, she could escape the derisive laughter that followed every attempt she made to defend herself against those stronger and more ruthless than she. If she wanted to see a film at the Silverlight Cinema downtown, she would go on a week night, avoiding weekends when her peers might be there. To be seen by them would mark her as an outsider, and she knew that kids weren’t interested in understanding what made someone tick. They were interested in finding out what made someone weak—and then they could use that to start a fight.
Just as Catherine was pouring out her heart to Nelly, declaring her love for Heathcliff, the shrill ring of the phone yanked Maddy abruptly from her immersion in the story. Slightly annoyed and eager to be transported back to the English moors, she tented the book on the coffee table and hurried into the kitchen, where the red rotary phone was bolted to the wall beside the fridge. Answering with the practiced formality her parents had instilled, she said, This is the Perth residence, how may I help you?
The voice on the other end was a man’s, his tone clipped and official.
May I speak to Madison?
Who is this?
This is Doctor Hayward from the Clydebank Regional Hospital. I regret to inform you that your parents have been involved in an accident and have been admitted to our emergency room.
Maddy’s pulse boomed in her throat as panic welled up inside her. Are they okay? What happened?
I’m afraid I don’t have all the details at this moment. They are receiving treatment, and they want to keep this situation private. They’ve requested that you come to the hospital by yourself.
Tears began to well up in her eyes. But I don’t have a ride to get there. Can somebody come pick me up?
I’m sorry, but we can’t arrange transportation. It’s important that you come as soon as you can. And please remember that your parents have requested privacy.
Okay. I’ll figure out what to do. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.
Living in Saddleback Sub meant Maddy faced a long trek across town to reach the hospital. She swiftly laced up her runners and slipped into her jacket, deciding to cut through the Gully to reach Highway 93. Despite its name, The Gully
wasn’t a true gully; it was an expanse of woodland crisscrossed with hiking trails and a gentle stream. It lay between her neighbourhood and Regal View—a collection of modular homes that locals simply referred to as The Regal Sub.
Much like Saddleback Sub, it was emblematic of small-town middle-class life. As she raced through the darkened expanse of the Gully, her breath came in quick bursts. Emerging into Regal Sub, she cut across its streets and cul-de-sacs. When she reached the access road running parallel to Highway 93, she slowed to a brisk walk, her eyes drawn to the wigwam burner, its summit aglow with orange light, while the distant, rhythmic hum of the sawmill underscored her hurried footsteps.
As she trudged across town, Maddy’s mind churned with grim possibilities about her parents’ condition. Were they going to die? Would only one of them perish? What would she do if either of these scenarios came true? And if one of them was injured so severely that they would need a wheelchair for the rest of their lives, how would she cope? These thoughts swirled through her mind like tornadoes.
When she reached the Little Lumberjack, Clydebank’s mascot, she was greeted by the carved statue standing proudly on its platform. Its cheerful grin seemed to mock her. Maddy paused to catch her breath, reminding herself that arriving at the hospital a nervous wreck would be of no help to her parents. With a deep breath, she steeled herself for whatever awaited her,