Edward Lee - Slither

Slydes looked down, hands on hips. "You're as dumb as they come, girl. You almost blew it for all of us."

She seemed outraged by the comment. "There was a snake on me!"

Slydes dragged her up by the T-shirt collar and slammed her against a tree. it was just a baby pine snake, you empty-headed-fuck brain."

it was gonna bite me!"

Her eyes bugged when Slydes, again, slapped his big hand over her mouth. "If you don't keep your fuckin' voice down, baby, the next time I go trolling for gators, it's your ass I put on the hook."

Jonas smiled, popped a brow at the threat.

"Pine snakes ain't poisonous," Slydes went on, "and that one was too small to bite anyway. You are about the dumbest set of tits on two legs." He dragged his hand away and pointed at her. "We hear one more peep out of you, and you're gonna be a dead set of tits, you hear me?"

"All right, Jesus," she complained.

"What do we do now, Slydes?" Jonas asked. "We don't grab the weed soon and get out, we'll miss the high tide."

Slydes grumbled, rubbed his beard. "I know. We only got two choices. Leave now and come back when it's safer-"

"Let's do that," Ruth dared in the lowest voice.

"-or wait till that chick at the head shack goes to sleep. Then we grab some weed and go camp out ourselves in the middle of the island somewhere. And wait twenty-four hours for the next night tide."

"I can't put this off, Slydes," Jonas insisted, shaking his head. "If I don't put more product on the street, I'll lose all my bagmen to the competition. Don't matter how good my hydro is, I'll lose my rep if I can't put the shit on the street."

"Then it's settled. We wait till later and grab the stuff tonight."

Ruth's expression showed what she thought of that. "So we gotta sit in the woods for twenty-four hours? With all these snakes?"

Jonas smiled. "Yeah, baby. Maybe we'll tie ya to a tree and let 'em bite your titties. Or stuff a handful of 'em down those little shorts of yours."

"Oh, fuck you."

"Let's go back to the boat and wait a bit," Slydes said. "I need a beer." His thoughts strayed during the walk back. Tonight'll be a hassle but it's worth it, he knew. His brother's hydroponic pot demanded top dollar on the street for its quality, and it was a hell of a lot easier than dealing with that illegal gator meat. All in a day's work, he dismissed. Up ahead, he watched Ruth turn at a crook in the trail, caught a fine side glance of her body. Yeah, she's a big-time pain in the ass, but… The body was the thing, and her knowing what to do with it; hence, the chief reason he and Jonas kept her around. She'd tied off the T-shirt in a big knot, revealing a belly good enough for one of those ab-cruncher commercials. The night's humidity moistened the cotton fabric, which only divulged more of the large, heavily nippled breasts. As she walked, the bottom of her butt cheeks edged out under the shorts.

Yeah, he knew. She probably will be gator bait someday… but… In fact, a little romp back at the boat might help tone down some of the night's aggravations. I need to tap my love vein, he thought. He knew that Jonas was already sick of her, but as for himself? She's too good-lookin' to kill just yet.

When they got back, the clouds were breaking well. At least they'd have a little light now. Ruth sat back up on the prow, the breeze parting her hair, while Jonas snoozed in the back fishing chair. The boat rocked languidly in the water. The night seemed serene now: the moonlight fluorescing the woods, the crickets and peepers thrumming their drone. Slydes could appreciate none of this, however, not the transcendental type. He clattered belowdecks, snapped on the cabin light, and reached for a beer.

"The fuck…"

He'd nearly slipped on the ice, which was melting on the floor. The beer cooler had been tipped over. The cover to the map box hung open, and he was sure it had been closed earlier. And when he looked at the toolbox, the tools seemed… disarranged.

"Get down here!" he barked.

Jonas and Ruth rushed down.

"What?"

"Which one of you tipped my cooler?" Slydes demanded. "Were ya born in a barn? You knock something over, you pick it back up."

"I don't drink that shit," Ruth said. "I could use a line of coke, though. Or some crystal."

"You were the last one to get a beer, Slydes," Jonas reminded him. The fuckin' thing probably tipped over during the trip."

Slydes gave it some contemplation. He's probably right, but-"The map compartment's hangin' open, too," he added. "I didn't even use a map tonight. And see the toolbox? It's messed up. The rachet's always on top 'cause I use it all the time. I even used it today before we left. Now it's on the bottom.'

"Like someone was looking through it," Ruth presumed.

'Me door to the head's open too," Slydes added. "And I'm positive I closed it and put on the latch."

"Oh, fuck," Ruth groaned. "You guys are scaring me!"

Jonas' eyes were narrowed as he thought back. "I may have pissed after you, Slydes, and I don't remember if I latched the door, and come to think of it, I may have fished around the toolbox for the stub-head screwdriver 'cause I remember wishin' I had one when I was taking the screws out of the insulation panel I hide the weed behind."

"The map compartment could've just fallen open," Ruth said.

"What about the cooler?" Slydes asked.

Jonas laughed. "You're worrying about bullshit, man. A swell probably came through when we were on the island, tipped the fucker over."

Slydes mulled it over. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he finally conceded. He picked some beers off the floor and followed his brother and Ruth topside.

In truth, however, Slydes was right. Someone had rooted through the cabin when they'd been out.

But he was wrong about something else…

The thing that had landed on Ruth's arm earlier wasn't a baby pine snake.

(II)

"I repeat, zero-zero. Three more are on the island. Tho males, one female."

The radio line seemed to stall over the information. "I don't understand this. The island's supposed to be uninhabited."

"It's not now."

"Is the latest group military?"

"Negative, zero-zero. All three are civilians. They're acting discreet, though." Transients, the sergeant guessed. They're up to something. Why would they have Dome to the island at night?

"Be extra cautious." A hesitation. "We can't take chances at this point. If any of them see you, kill them."

"Roger, zero-zero."

"Out."

The sergeant stood in the brambles, thinking. He didn't know if this was good or bad. The more people who came out here, the more test subjects for the specimens, and so far that phase of the operation was working. Each day they were getting a more accurate picture of gestation periods, ovatic dispersal and function, mobility efficiency, etc. This was a lot of effort and expense for a biological feasibility study… but it was working. It was proof that genetically transfected hybrids could be used as weaponry.

So long as we don't get caught out here.

The sergeant didn't particularly like to kill civilians.

The corporal was finishing up with the cameras; they needed to monitor more of the island's outer perimeters.

"All done," the corporal announced.

"Good work."

"What did the major say about the new ones?"

"He didn't like it, and neither do I. All of a sudden this deserted island is getting crowded. And if any of them see us, we're supposed to kill them."

"No problem," the corporal remarked, looking around.

They already knew that the transfected species was perfectly compatible with the environment. He suspected that Research Command had a lot to do with it now. They want to know what it's doing to the civilians.. we've infected-.