The tarantula had dropped down onto his head.

Coop screamed and jumped. Or jumped and screamed. Later, he was never entirely sure what happened beyond the fact that his body did something explosive and he didn’t die. He hit the last pendulum hard, sliding down to his knees on the top of the blade. Not being able to reach the bastard repellent from that position, he resorted to punching himself in the face until his goggles cleared. He didn’t wait for Phil or look for the spider or anything else. He just jumped, landed on the floor, rolled against the wall and lay curled in a fetal position for a moment, hoping he hadn’t set off any more traps.

After a couple of minutes had gone by, Coop got to his feet and ran back down the stairs the way he and Phil had come. Each killing curse—the heat ones, the cold ones, the ones meant to slice him in half—felt great, and not just because they reminded him he was alive. He knew there wasn’t a spider on Earth, even one the size of a wagon wheel (the tarantula was already getting bigger in his head) that could live through that much dark magic.

Coop made it back to the basement and dove through the Stink Missile’s hatch, locking it behind him.

“So, how did it go?” said Morty.

Coop tore off the respirator. “You didn’t hear?”

“For a while, but then you both kind of faded out.”

Coop tore off the goggles and pulled back the hood on his suit. “Just get us out of here. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Good. Start with why you smell like a wolf peed on you while you were eating linguine.”

Coop kept checking the timer on the Missile’s control panel. “Is this right? We’re almost at two hours. It didn’t feel like it took that long.”

“Relax. The tunnel’s already dug. We’ve got plenty of time.”

“You do remember the part where Nelson said we’d blow up if we didn’t get back soon?”

“Relax. I’ve been playing with the controls while you were gone. I can make it go faster this time.”

Coop looked at Morty as they started to move. “Is that a good idea? Why don’t we just go out like we came in?”

“Relax. It’ll be fine.”

“Why do you keep saying ‘relax’?”

Morty reached over and opened a small storage hatch to the side of the control panel. “I found these Xanax inside. They really make the trip easier. Want to try one?”

Coop leaned back in his seat. Is a drunk driver worse on the freeway or in a sewer pipe? he wondered.

Morty cocked his head. “Is that like one of those Zen koans?”

“Did I say that out loud? Yes. Contemplate it as we’re blown to Kitty Litter all over Laurel Canyon.”