Jill and the Centipede

One late morning in June, “Carly’s Crunchy Crusts” was looking especially stiff and clean and picture-worthy. All the windows had been scrubbed with a reed brush, and several gallons of cleansing soap had been applied to the already-crisp white awning. The porch before the door had been swept clean of dust and bits of dry leaf and a delicious bread-y smell was emanating from the door.  It was clear that Carly and company had just finished their summer cleaning.  The door opened with a brisk tinkling sound and Carly, the store owner, stepped forth, smiling as she surveyed the downtown street.  The day was hot and sunny and the laughter of passersby sounded out above the rumble of passing cars and loud jazz music from the Italian restaurant across the street.  The air smelled like sun-baked stone, pastries, and fried chicken parmesan.  It was the perfect day to own a bakery.  Everyone seemed to be in the mood for a treat.  Carly was about to walk back inside the store after seeing two potential customers heading her away, when something mildly distressing caught her eye. 

A very old automobile down the street was coming towards her shop but it was going too fast for such a crowded downtown area and swerving through the traffic. Carly noted this poor driving with great disapproval.  She might not have given the car much more of her attention (it was, after all, a busy time of day) if the driver hadn’t been tall, thin, and surrounded by a mop of shaggy black hair.  As a general rule, her friend Jill Grey never drove into town, unless Carly had invited her to dinner.  Jill looked anxious, but she always looked anxious while driving.  So, Carly supposed that was not much to go off of.  As Carly watched, the car stopped in front of the store and Jill got clumsily out of the front seat, looking rather dazed and dizzy and thoroughly out of place.  Carly recovered from her brief surprise and stepped forward.  

“What are you doing out here, Jill?”

Jill noticed Carly and tripped over the curb, seizing the arm of a nearby bench for support.

“Carly, this is dreadful!  It won’t go back…”

Carly put her hands on her hips.  “Great heavens! Have you stayed up all night reading?  You look like you haven’t slept in weeks!  Come in and eat some bread.”

Carly was correct in assuming that Jill had not only stayed up all night, but that Jill had also eaten nothing but oatmeal and energy bars since her last visit.  However, Jill remained stubbornly clinging to the bench.

“At least come look!  I might need your help at the house!” She paused, slightly out of breath. “There’s a large centipede!”

Carly wondered whether Jill had actually gone mad this time.  “A centipede? Umm… spray it with bug spray!”

Jill nodded.  “That’s why I came to see you!  I don’t have any.”

“I see.” Carly started towards the door, waving for Jill to follow.  “Well then, I’m sure I have some somewhere.  Meanwhile, how about getting something to eat?”

Jill stumbled after Carly, still looking dizzy from driving her car. “Hurry!  It’s eating my lilacs!”

“Lilacs?” said Carly, mildly surprised that Jill even knew that the lilacs existed.  “I’m sure they could do with a bit of a trim.  Last I saw, they were overgrowing your house!”

“No, I… maybe, but…”

They entered the kitchen, which was busy with the anticipation of customers.  Carly caught her employee’s eye and called out, “Unexpected company, Rachel. Give me just a moment and I’ll be right back down to help.”

“That’s fine,” replied Rachel, happily pounding away at a lump of bread dough. 

Carly steered Jill upstairs towards her room.  The apartment was blessedly quiet and still.  It was the sort of room where you felt clean and comfortable.  There was sunlight streaming in the windows, a checkered tablecloth, and plenty of things to eat.  Whitewashed cabinets and a shiny kettle graced the kitchen area.  Free from any semblance of clutter or dust, a lavender scent hung in the air.

“I’ll start some tea.  Sit down,” instructed Carly, turning on the kettle. 

Jill sat at the table and rested her chin on her hand.  “What about the bug spray?”

“Yes, I’m sure I’ve got some.  I’ll get it to you in a moment.”

Carly opened a cabinet and took down two plates and a fork.  Jill watched with interest as Carly sliced some bread and cheese.  “It’s past lunchtime, Jill.  Here, have some of this, too.” Carly had now opened the refrigerator and produced a large lettuce leaf, a boiled ham, three bowls of nuts, two apples, and a jar of glistening peach preserves.  “There you are.  Now, I’m wondering why didn’t you call me?  I certainly don’t object to an impromptu visit, but…”

“My phone wouldn’t work,” said Jill, happily spreading preserves on the lettuce leaf.  “I think the centipede ate the phone line.”

Carly eyed Jill’s lettuce with suspicion.  “Ate it?  Interesting. Out of curiosity, what book were you reading last night?”  She was pretty sure that the centipede might have been a figment of Jill’s sleep-deprived, book-confused head.  One never knew what might happen if you stayed up all night and had practically nothing good to eat the day before.

Jill happily munched the lettuce. “The Journey of a Westward Cockroach, by Allan Richard.  It was very eye-opening, even if the plot was a bit predictable.  It delves into the unjust pain of a dislikable appearance.”

Carly made a disapproving noise and busied herself by rummaging through a cabinet for tea. “They’re a lot more than a dislikable appearance: germs, dirt, disease. . . “

“You’re thinking of the Eastward Cockroaches, Carly. The point of the story depicted the Westward Cockroaches, desperately trying to clear their horrible reputation.”

“East or West, a cockroach is a cockroach,” said Carly.

“But, they’re innocent . . .”

“I’m convinced those dirty beetles, at least the ones that I see sneaking around my cabinets, are guilty.  Whether they mean to be or not.”

“Again with prejudice towards the Westward cockroach!” said Jill disconsolately, spreading chopped nuts absently on a slice of bread with the preserve spoon.  

Carly mumbled something about misleading fiction and poured the steaming water into two mugs.  “Was there a centipede in this story you’re reading?”

“Oh, centipede, yes.  A very important part.  The Oblivion Centipede was what the humans and cockroaches had to unite against.  But, the humans first needed to be convinced that it was only the Eastward Cockroaches that were dirty and bad.  The main character, Walter Leggy, had to overcome the prejudice and unite the humans and Westward Cockroaches.”

“Walter who?” said Carly impatiently.

“Walter Leggy.  The Westward Cockroach who had to unite the humans against the centipedes.”

“I see,” Carly was by this time convinced that Jill had imagined the centipede eating her lilacs, but she reflected that Jill only needed the hearty meal.  She seemed a lot less rundown than she had upon her arrival. Now she looked just tired.

“Jill, why don’t you take a short nap before driving home?” said Carly, handing Jill a mug of tea.

“Oh, no, thank you, but no,”  Jill glanced at the clock and jumped up.  “I really must be going.”

“Nothing’s going to hurt your lilacs.  Sit down.  You need rest.”

Jill settled back into her chair and sipped her tea.  Carly went to another cabinet and got out the bug spray.  She looked at the label.

“This should work.  It does, hmmm, other multi-legged insects.  This should definitely work for you.”

“Oh, good!  Thank you, Carly!”

“You’re very welcome,” said Carly gently, hoping that when Jill got home she would take a short nap to clear her mind.  They drank tea in silence for a while.  Jill rested her head on her hand and Carly began to hope that she would fall asleep after all.  But, suddenly Jill jumped up.

“I MUST be going now.  Thank you again!  Oh dear, I’m so worried about those lilacs.  Let’s hurry!”

“Alright, go on, I guess.  Have a great day!”

Jill suddenly seemed doubtful.  “So . . . you’re not coming, too?”

Carly stared.  “Gracious, no!  I wouldn’t waste bread-baking time for noth-- I mean, to kill a centipede.  You don’t need my help for that.”

“Well, I suppose not. But thank you for everything.”

“Don’t mention it.  Glad to help.  Off you go and make sure to get some sleep!”

Jill clattered out the door and down the stairs.  The sound of the car’s engine starting filtered upwards through the window as Carly gave the table a quick cleaning and put everything back in its proper position.  Then, she went downstairs and helped Rachel with the customers.  At about four o’clock that afternoon, the flow of customers slowed considerably, as usual.  She soon had time to work in her office writing emails and filling out the latest department survey.  At five o’clock, Carly remembered that the spray she had given Jill was meant for vegetables and should be washed off the lilacs in the morning.  She figured that calling Jill would be a good time to invite her over for lunch as well.  Carly grabbed her office phone and dialed Jill’s number.  Nothing seemed to happen, so she dialed again and waited.  But, empty silence reigned.  

Carly, feeling a slow and almost imperceptible sort of uneasiness, recalled Jill’s claim that the centipede had eaten her phone connection.  But,wasn’t that impossible?  

One way or another, she had to tell Jill about washing the bug spray off the lilacs. So, Carly told her employee that she would be back before closing time and then drove off in her manual transmission vehicle.  She brought a second can of bug spray, one with stronger chemicals, just in case Jill ran out.  She remembered that the lilacs were extensive.

The shadows were long as the car crunched up the gravel driveway to Jill’s house fifteen minutes later.  The house looked especially disordered.  The porch railing was very rotten and falling apart in two places.  The front door was gaping wide open.  However, Carly noted that the lilacs were looking as wild and tangled and healthy as usual.  She parked under the row of low-branching Bradford pear trees and got out, clutching the bug spray.  The place seemed quieter than normal, with the absence of her car’s engine noise.

Carly approached the house, past Jill’s car, realizing that one lilac looked oddly trampled.  Several branches were missing large swathes of leaves and she wasn’t sure if this was natural or not.  She stepped onto the sagging porch, wishing that it wouldn’t creak quite as loudly.  What she could see of the house through the open door was dark and very still. It was odd that the small window in the side of the house had a long crack down the middle.  She wasn’t sure if it had been there the last time she had visited.  It felt odd to knock on the open door, so she called through it instead.

“Hello, Jill!” Her voice sounded hollow in the silence.  Carly wondered if Jill had gone on a walk.  Seconds passed and nobody answered, a fact that Carly found ominous, despite the fact that Jill was most likely deeply lost in another book.

Carly would have thought that the noise of her car’s approach would not have gone unnoticed.  A breeze rustled the Bradford pears and one branch scraped along the wall.  Carly jumped at the noise and realized that she was feeling decidedly tense.  She was squeezing the bug spray tightly and glancing all around the dusty porch.  She wished it wasn’t so quiet. 

Suddenly, she became aware of how silly it was.  What was a centipede?  An imaginary one at that?   Feeling slightly embarrassed, Carly straightened her shoulders and marched into the house.  She barely had time to register that the house appeared empty of Jill and that Jill wasn’t sitting at the table with a mug of tea and a book.  When she heard a voice calling in a loud whisper, “Carly!!”

Carly stopped, looked around, and noticed that the door to an ancient maple cabinet stood slightly open and Jill’s anxious face was peering cautiously out.  Carly felt a confused desire to burst out laughing.

“Jill Grey, what are you doing?”

“Shh!  I’m hiding!  Hurry and get in!”

“No, thank you.  There’s nothing to hide from…”

“But, the centipede!”

“Centipede? Didn’t the bug spray work?”

Jill shook her head with a panicked expression.  “No!  I don’t know why not!”

“It must have been something about it having to be washed off the lilacs.  I really don’t know what’s gotten into you, Jill.  A centipede won’t kill you.”

“This one might!”

Both of them became aware of a muffled scraping and clunking noise above them, as though something very large was moving around in the attic.  Several pieces of plaster came loose from the roof and clattered down. 

“See?  It’s in the attic!” said Jill, gloomily.  “I think it’s looking for the Westward cockroach. . . Where are you going?”

“Upstairs,” said Carly grimly, brandishing the can of bug spray.

“But, it’s dangerous!”

Carly continued on her way.  “If it’s some sort of overgrown centipede, it should be quickly deterred by this chemical here.  I think it’s some sort of squirrel that got into your attic.  You might try cleaning your gutters . . .”

Jill tumbled out of the cabinet and scrambled after Carly, who was now making her way up the very cramped attic staircase. The doorway leading to the equally cramped attic space was very dark indeed.  Shadowy roof beams and pipe systems could vaguely be seen.

“Be careful!” encouraged Jill.

“I will.  Do you have a flashlight?”

“Yes, here it is.”

Carly took it and turned it on.  A weak beam of light issued from the end, illuminating a lot of dust and spiderwebs.

“I don’t see anything.  Are you sure . . .”

There was another loud rustling sound and, suddenly, the light from the flashlight glinted off something hard and smooth in a corner amidst some dusty boxes.  It looked suspiciously like the exoskeleton of some disgustingly large insect.  Carly aimed the bug spray but was captivated in fascination as something very large, long, and crawling with legs came into the light.  Its hard, plated back was black, contrasting strangely with its orange-brown legs and it didn’t seem to have a head. The legs were so numerous it seemed to flow rather than walk and Carly realized that both her hands were shaking unpleasantly.

“It’s as I thought.  The Oblivion Centipede!” said Jill behind her, in a hushed voice.  “Who’d have thought that I’d actually see one with my own eyes?  It’s almost magnificent. . . “

Carly wasn’t listening at this point.  She instinctively ducked as something long and dark went flying past her and landed on the floor.  She caught a glimpse of hundreds of orange legs and saw that more of the centipede - there was so much of it - was crawling down the staircase near her feet, while the other end of the insect was clutching and clinging at her arm.  She felt a horrible sensation, as if twenty spiders were dancing on her skin.  

The next moment was rather blurred.  She remembered shaking the centipede off in disgust and pouring large amounts of bug spray in its general direction.  Jill was screaming something about poisonous teeth, which was not exactly helpful, especially after seeing several long pointy things near the end of the centipede that didn’t look like legs.  There was a crash as the centipede’s pointy end flailed blindly backwards into the attic, knocking over two boxes and sending clouds of dust billowing into the light.  Carly saw it rearing back up but it must not have had much eyesight to speak of, for it bashed its end against the top of the doorframe with a crack that must have hurt.

The whole house seemed to shake and Carly had a split second in which to wonder how strong was this creature. She then noticed that its pointy end was coming down straight for her head.  In a panic, she flung the flashlight up at it.  There was a crunching sound.  The light skittered madly before falling with a clatter, leaving things much darker than they had been.  She felt Jill seize her arm.  There was a flopping sound, like a giant worm thrashing around on the floor.  She saw a glimmer of light from the fallen flashlight.  She lunged towards it.  A large wooden box got in her way but she scrambled over, dragging Jill with her.  She seized the flashlight out of a pile of old insulation and shone it upwards.  The girls saw the centipede, now illuminated by the flashlight, waving madly about, its shadow very dark on the other side of the attic. Then, it plunged its head down out of sight behind the box.  There was a gurgling sound, like water going down a drain.  Carly peered over the box in the sudden silence that followed the conclusion of the gurgle.  The twisting coils of the Oblivion Centipede were no longer there!  Only a jagged hole in the fluffy insulation showed through to the dining room below.

“It’s gone,” gasped Jill. “The bugspray must have scared it off.”

Carly stared, refusing to relax her grip on the bugpray. “How do you know it isn't down in your kitchen?  What was that thing anyway?”

“It's really gone.  They make that sound when they burrow into the ground.”

Carly looked down through the hole.  Sure enough, there was a crack in Jill’s floorboards in the room below.

“As for what it was,” said Jill, and her eyes lit up. “I told you about the Oblivion Centipede, didn’t I?  In Journey of a Westward Cockroach, the centipedes are called that because of how quickly they burrow into the ground.  They are more commonly known as Cave Centipedes, however.  In Murmur, by–”

“I see,” interrupted Carly.  “Why did I never learn about these in biology?”

“OH, um,” Jill paused uncomfortably.  “There is a slight complication. . . the Oblivion Centipede is entirely fictional.”

“Ah.” said Carly, very dryly indeed. “Slight complication, that.”

“Yeah.” Jill grinned weakly, then frowned at the hole in the fiberglass. “I guess now I need to fix my house.”

As Carly drove away several minutes later, after promising to come back and help with repairs, she was still pondering the Oblivion Centipede.  It would be no good calling the Animal Control Office since no one would believe her story.  But, if what Jill said was true, the Cave Centipedes didn’t attack the same place twice.  At least, as recorded in Murmur . . . but that was like Jill, Carly thought to herself.  Part human, part book.