Pavel was tired. Pavel was sleeping.
He was on a plain, the sky was blue and the grass was green. Around him were rolling hills and chittering of little tits and swallows filled his world. Snakes slithered around and ate a few, but it was alright, they weren't venomous, that he instantly knew.
Then, as if on cue, storm clouds darkened the sky, and he ran, ran far away from the storm. In front of him grew many trees, the trees became a forest, and the darkness became as smothering as if it was night.
His laser rifle was in his hands, he didn't know how, but it was. Maybe it was with him all the time, or it was his will that called it into being, he couldn't tell. Still, he saw little, but soon a small flashlight gave him some hope.
Then the noises started. The leaves churned as if they were prodded by sticks, and strands of spidersilk glinted in his little round world of tension. His heart pounded and the air became thick.
In that moment they struck. A pair of Crawlers, their stingers glinting with poison, leapt from the branches as his light exposed their foul plan. Bolts of searing light struck the first in moments as he jammed the trigger, showering him with foul ichor that stung his skin like red hot coal. The other was more fortunate, evading his shots and getting to his flank. Even worse was that he looked the wrong way, and so was tackled from behind, only able to turn half-way.
The stinger, the bane of their prey, stung him in the arm, and he responded with a desperate elbow across the beast's face. It bought him a moment of relief, and he followed with a backhand strike that was meant to be savage, but fell short as his arm began to feel numb. Willing it to move one last time, Pavel used it to grab the stinger and hold it down long enough for his other hand to bring up a knife to bear, and cutting it off. Next came the crawler itself, thrashing as the short blade was jammed and gleefully turned around in it's elongated cranium.
Weary from the ordeal, the russian pushed the weight aside, and sat upright, reaching for his rifle. Then he saw them. Dozens upon dozens of spiders, as large as a wolf each, encircled him. Leading them was none other than the girl who came in just the other day, wounded and too weak to even move on her accord. The girl who played most viciously in the PE class. The girl called Zi.
Then, just as they rushed them, he woke up with a start to the sounds of gunfire and the conversations of his school mates.
"Wow. Don't they know what sleeping time is?" He set out to find them.
