Wilderness Camper

Woman with permission of Saledin
Spider: Hate Stock

If asked, Fiona could not have told you how her boyfriend managed to get her to change her vacation plans. She'd never, in a million years, ever gone to the wilds and gone camping on a vacation. She'd never been anywhere she couldn't plug in her hairdryer. But this year, instead of Mexico or Vegas or any one of a dozen other civilized and (more importantly) indoor places, Fiona found herself trudging along a dried arroyo sure that every scorpion would sting her, every rattlesnake was watching to bite her and that she'd certainly burn to a crisp in the hot sun. It didn't help that the cad was making her carry half the load either.

Once they reached the flat area he'd marked out as the place for their sojourn with nature (damn him!), he insisted she help by gathering some of the wood from the nearby washout while he set up camp. She grudgingly let him have his way and dejectedly scrambled down the loose clay and pebble bank to the base of the dry waterway. Hatchet in hand, she knocked branches from deadfall she found and gathered a few armfuls to carry back to the camp. She cracked one fingernail making her way back up the bank. Once at the top, she watched him finish erecting the tent while she sat on a warm rock. Nothing could have gotten her to move save the attack of some creepy crawly. When once such creature crawled out of the wood bundle at her feet, she screeched, causing Ken, her boyfriend, to collapse the tent.

"Shit, Fiona! It's only a spider. It's not even poisonous."
"It's got too many legs and its hairy. It's disgusting."
"It's their habitat. Just let it be, okay?"

Fiona responded by taking a stick and beating the spider to death with it.

"That wasn't really needed. It was more scared of you than you were of it."
"Bullshit. It was trying to bite me."
"Likely as not. You'd just ripped up its home."
"Tree hugging crap. That one won't be bugging me any more."
"It's not crap. You can't kill everything we see."
"If it comes close. I'll kill it . I will!"

Ken shook his head and sighed.

"And just what do you mean by that?" she demanded.
"Nothing," replied Ken. "Nothing."

Once the tent was up, Fiona responded to the glory of the natural world around her by retreating to the tent, zipping up the opening and glaring at everything within eyespot. Ken, trying to make the best of a less than perfect situation, prepared a meal over the fire and offered her some. Of course it wasn't right. It had burned bits as campfire cooking always seems to have. It's part of the charm usually except for Fiona it only reminded her that she wasn't anywhere near civilization and that she hated the whole thing. When the sun touched the edge of the mountains around them and the buzzing of the day insects was replaced by the whine of mosquitos, she announced she was going to bed and bundled herself completely in her sleeping bag.

The next morning, her terrified scream woke every living thing in the valley. Ken, when he came to bed a few hours later, managed to let one of the local night spiders into the tent. It naturally sought out a warm safe place in the morning. That warm place, though, was the place Fiona was looking when she awoke. The spider's safe place quickly became it's last place as Fiona smashed it to bits. It got a last lick in by biting Fiona before being smashed to fragments.

That, not unexpectedly, was Fiona's last straw. The camp, prepared for several days in the wilds, was quickly and efficiently packed for the hike back. Ken, realizing that the whole affair had been a disaster, loaded most of the weight in his own pack. They made their way back to the car in silence. Fiona merely glared at Ken, at the creatures in the woods and at anything that tripped her up. Once back in the car, she dumped her pack unceremoniously in the back and turned the radio on full blast as if to block any sounds from outside.

Once back at Fiona's apartment, she bolted from the car leaving Ken wondering whether she'd ever go out with him again. After several minutes, a ceramic vase crashed at his feet -- one he'd given her for her birthday. It was clear she was totally angry with him for suggesting the camping trip. Whether the vase was a breakup message or just Fiona's way of blowing off steam was anyone's guess. Ken, like most men, had no idea how to take it. Rather than risking any further missiles from above, he left, thinking to call her when he got home.

Fiona, after her immediate rage had left her, only wanted to get the stink and filth of the experience scraped from her body. A shower was followed by a long soak in the tub. 90 minutes later, during which she pointedly ignored he telephone, she pulled herself from the tub. She felt better though far from clean. She wondered whether she'd ever be rid of the dirt those creepy critters had left over her whole body. That none had even touched anything more than her hand made no difference. In her mind she was unclean and might remain so forever.

Upon checking her messages, she ignored Ken's calls. She had to talk to someone. After three friends and two hours of phone calls later, she began to feel slightly less than murderous when she thought of Ken and the whole adventure. Even so, she felt drained. A nap was definitely called for.

The next morning, Fiona was feeling much better. She got up and dressed. Somehow, she felt changed, different. She put it down to the horror of the whole situation and went out shopping. If anything would get her mental composure back, it would be dress shopping. Even if she didn't buy anything, the hunt for the right style and size was in itself cathartic. By the end of the day, though, the odd feeling still hadn't passed.

The next morning, Fiona was shocked to discover a fine golden fur covering her arms, legs and body. It wasn't much more than fuzz but even she'd heard enough news reports to know something was very much amiss. She quickly made a doctor's appointment and was surprised to discover that the doctor cleared a space later in the day.

She arrived a few minutes early, fully prepared to wait as usual. Instead, she was immediately whisked into a back examination room with a plastic sheet covering the corridor. He'd arrived wearing a complete suit of plastic.

"What's with the suit?" she asked, now very concerned.
"I hope I'm wrong but you may need to go into quarantine."
"Quarantine."
"But ... "
"Let's just check things out first. I hope I'm wrong. In the last two cases, I was and they went home unchanged and happy."
"Unchanged?"
"Surely you've heard of the Change of Life Virus."

The doctor unzipped the plastic sheet, revealing another one behind.

"But I've been nowhere near the Middle East ..."
"It has spread worldwide. You remember a particularly nasty flu several months ago?  That was it’s initial spread but no one knew at the time.  And it has mutated. It only hits women now but everyone's expecting that to be temporary."
“You mean I'm ..."
"We'll know more in a few moments."

The doctor ushered her past the first sheet, zipped it up and pushed a button. A strange mist filled the small space the two of them were standing in. He then unzipped the covering for the door and led her into the exam room. He asked a huge number of questions and took samples of anything and everything including her hair and the strange golden fur on her body.

"You'll have to stay here until your samples are analyzed and we know for sure."
"How long will that take?"
"I'll send the samples by courier to the nearest Quarantine lab. It'll take them a couple of hours for preliminary results and they'll get back to us by phone."

He quickly left the exam room and Fiona heard the zip of the outer door seal. She picked up one of the vastly out of date magazines and tried to get some enjoyment out of articles she'd read any number of times. Four hours in a small exam room was unbelievably boring and Fiona was soon nearly beside herself. There was nothing to do and, very soon, nothing she wanted to read either. When the doctor finally returned, he wasn't alone. Two large men in space suits and carrying a plastic space suit also entered the room. Without any ceremony whatever, they helped Fiona into space suit, hooked her up to the filter backpack.

"I'm infected?" asked Fiona.
"I'm so sorry," the doctor smiled sadly. "I wish the results had been negative."
"Me, too," Fiona glowered through her plastic bubble.
"This way, Miss," one of the men. "We'll transport you to first stage quarantine."

They didn't say much as they escorted Fiona from the room. Everyone who'd been in the waiting room had vanished. Even the receptionist was gone for her phone was ringing madly. A group of four people with large spray tanks were decontaminating the office. Fiona, somewhat dazed, followed the men to a waiting van. Inside, she was hooked to the van's filtration system to save her suit backpack. It took nearly an hour to reach the outskirts of town and the large camp that had been expropriated from the army to house the victims. Fiona was left in a small apartment with little more than a bed and sink. She was allowed out of the suit and once again used the facilities to clean up as best as she could. This was definitely a comedown from her own townhouse apartment. There was nothing here not even decent television. Only a handful of boring channels were available.

A small robot butler led her to and from meals, the showers and the innumerable tests. She soon began to hate the thing but it was the only thing with a half decent human voice she had contact with. Even her test samples were taken by a robot. No one was about, even to talk to. It seemed they deliberately were keeping her apart from other victims, too.

Mornings were the worst for Fiona. Every morning she checked herself over for changes. She'd expected a rapid change. The first transformations were ten days at most but by the end of the second week, the only apparent changes was that the fine fur had become a beautiful golden pelt covering her body. Although thin over her shoulders and breasts, it became denser and longer by the time it reached her waist. It almost seemed as if her transformation had stalled.

This though was temporary. To her horror, her buttocks began to expand until they formed a separate bulge. She looked as if she were wearing some kind of strange furred barrel around her hips. She was finding it harder to walk as her legs began to weaken. In panic, she reported this to the robots that did her tests every morning but, as they didn't respond, Fiona was never sure whether she'd been heard. By the end of the fourth week a second bulge had developed. This was soon followed by the growth of eight spindly spikes at her hips (or at least what had been her hips). Now Fiona wasn't a genius by any means but even she knew how many legs a spider had. And, putting two and two together, she remembered the spider she'd smashed on the camping trip. A tarantula with golden fur and eight horrible legs.

Her shrieks and screams brought no one, however. The next morning, her legs almost too weak to walk upon, she slowly and painfully followed the robot to the test station for what seemed like the millionth time. Halfway there, though, her legs gave out and she discovered she couldn't push herself erect again. The robot quickly assessed the situation and disappeared down the corridor. Fiona, meanwhile, had fainted.

She awoke, face down on a rough surface. There was a large rock beside her and more rocks off to her right.

"Where?" she tried to say.
"You've been moved to the final stage quarantine," a muffled though definitely human voice replied.
"Final?"
"Your transformation over the past three days was unexpectedly rapid. We think you are nearly finished with the virus now."
"Virus?"
"Change of Life virus. You've been through the worst it can throw at you."
"But I can't walk any more."
"Well, some things have changed while you were unconscious. You'll be able to move fine now though not quite as you did."
"What do you mean?" Fiona's mental fog was lifting.

She twisted her head back to see her body.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," she screamed. "Anything but that. Anything. Not a damned spider. Not that spider!"

But a second glance confirmed her fears. That tarantula, the one that had bitten her as she smashed it, had had the final laugh. For Fiona was now half tarantula herself. The same golden furred kind of tarantula she'd smashed. Golden fur, eight furry legs, spinnerets and all.