Salticidae Read Free Page B

shoulders.
    With a n immediate long jump, another black spider was outside the fissure’s entrance, spinning, seeing them inside, scrambling forward in a mad dash to eat.
    “Go away!” Janet cried. “Just go away!”
    The spider raced forward, getting its two forelegs in first, then folding the others in near its body to fit through the crack.
    “Just leave me alone!” Janet’s fist closed around something in her pack. It felt like a long tube. She drew it out to throw it at the creature but Gellis grabbed it from her hand.
    “No. Do n’t throw it. Shoot it.”
    The spider lurched forward, its head inside the cave, struggling to get further in. Janet pushed back into Gellis’ chest, trying to hide inside his frame.
    “Look out.” Gellis pulled the string on the distress flare. A sudden flash of red blinded Janet as the fiery projectile shot out at the enormous spider. The beast jumped back out into the open as the flare hummed by its huge black body.
    The next thing Janet knew she was sliding backwards down a long slope, wrapped tightly in Gellis’ arms.
     
     
    ***
     
    The ground shook. More miners, Shumba thought. More men destroying his land. All he could do was ignore it and focus on his task. He knew the giant nest of wild bees was nearby. He’d seen his father collect honey from this particular nest on numerous occasions, mixing the honey with fermented grains for a sweet alcoholic drink the men enjoyed around the fire as they ate their nightly ration of peacock and porcupine.
    The other hunters of his tribe were not far away, but were sil ent and invisible as they stalked game for dinner. It was only recently that Shumba had been allowed to hunt and forage alone, and he didn’t want to disappoint his family by coming back empty handed. Not only was the honey good for drinking, it was good trade as well, and could yield anything from a new shirt to a day with the tribal educator.
    He step ped over the curled roots of the jungle floor and found his bearings. There was the tree with the face of a monkey in its bark. There was the bush where the caterpillars mated. Yes, the nest should be just up the small hill in front of him, near the overlook.
    He pushed through the dense fronds, swiping the m away with his machete. Having walked barefoot since birth, the soles of his rough feet felt no discomfort when stepping on branches and stones. He ignored the mosquitoes and other biting insects that flitted around his face and naked torso. Many of the men in his tribe wore only loin cloths but he preferred the warm, tattered jeans brought by the Toleka Traders, men whose sole purpose in life was to ride from village to village, tribe to tribe, trading clothing, cigarettes and foodstuffs for bush meat and jungle minerals. They came more often these days, many times with white men trailing behind them with cameras and notebooks. The white men always wanted to take picture and ask questions but Shumba subscribed to la loi de silence, the law of silence, for the white men did not need to learn their survival secrets. They enjoyed the dancing and singing Shumba’s tribe reveled in on a nightly basis, but they always winced at the fresh food offered to them. They explained to Shumba, as was usually translated through the traders, that bugs and lizards were not common meals for them. Shumba always laughed at this. Food was food. If it gave you strength, you should eat it.
    The bushes finally opened up onto the side of a cliff, the overlook. Beneath him, swaying treetops from the lower part of the rainforest spread out like green water. Patches of mist swam over it all. For a brief moment he stood and watched the birds flying below him, green parrots playing in warm air. The sun was high in the sky now, and the women in his family would be out mixing vegetables together for dinner and weaving liana for rope and nets the men would use for hunting and trapping.
    A small rodent darted from one bush to another, momentarily