seymoure

Chapter 82

The Unkindest Cut of All

Smiga had been able to pull his left arm free from the clutching web just seconds before a flying blade would have cut it badly.

He had not known when and where the next strike was coming; it was nothing less than luck that gave him the saving movement.

He was now fiercely worked to free his other hand, thinking it was not unlikely that that would be the next target.

The entire web grid thumped as though struck by something huge landing at the edges. Smiga looked around but found nothing that could have caused the impact.

Another jolt was accompanied by a sound like a massive pieced of metal being twisted against its wishes.

Another look from side to side did not pay a dividend in any further information as to the origin of the sound or the shaking.

A third concussion and grating sound was not the same. This time there seemed to be some movement in the web itself, not a turning, as if the web moved with Smiga as a center point of a pinwheel.

He was a center, true, but more like an axis point passed through his left arm and out his right. If the turning continued in the same direction as it gave early warning of going, it would turn him over and over, head over heels.

Another flying blade sliced through webbing a few feet from him.

Then came another bump and sound of metallic tearing, and this time he was tilted five or six inches forward.

This was just the thing he needed!

He drew a breath and during that time, the web began to topple over and over.

And still the cutting razors came.

If he got loose, where would he fly?

If he did not free himself, would he be sliced into Smiga salad?

Right now he realized the spinning was gaining speed.

His stomach promised to lose his last meal much sooner than he would do anything else.