Edward Lee - Slither

Damn. The sergeant snapped the gauge away and uncapped the lance. "I can't believe they're graduating you kids through this occupational specialty. This is supposed to be one of the first things you learn." He turned the unit on, input the readout of the air temperature, then-

Crunch.

– jammed the lance into the corpse's nostril. The breasts seemed to quiver a moment, but that was just reflexive. When the thermometer beeped, the sergeant slid the lance back out. "Hour and eleven minutes," he read.

`How's it work?"

By comparing the brain's temp against the air temp and calculating the drop time."

"Oh."

Yeah. Oh. The sergeant snapped some digital pictures for the file. The mutation element is incredible. Look at her skin."

"Yeah. Neat," the corporal remarked.

The woman's skin had fully turned now, to the same translucent yellow, peppered by bright red spots. But the sergeant couldn't help but notice how his underling's eyes were fixed on the cadaver's swollen breasts. "You're an animal. You're gaping at a dead woman's breasts. If I weren't here, you'd probably be having sex with it."

The corporal shrugged.

What can you do? The sergeant guessed he was just getting old. It wasn't the victim's former beauty that captivated him, it was the level of mutagen-transmission.

The Transfection Unit that made these specimens really knew what it was doing.

"Take a tissue sample so we can get out of here," he ordered. "I think the colonel's going to be really pleased about this."

(II)

"I slept great last night," Loren enthused, picking out his Sigma flippers and snorkel. The clean, fresh air of the great outdoors, I guess."

"Me too." Annabelle appeared just as lively, blond hair shining in the morning sun. Today she wore a bright parrot-green bikini that seemed to cover even less of her body than yesterday's apparel. "I got to sleep pretty late," she said, inadvertently looking around for Trent, "but slept very well. I'm surprised how quiet the forest is at night."

"Quiet?"

"Oh, sure. You should hear the racket the woods make in Brazil and Southeast Asia. Ten times louder than this."

"Wow, you've been all-over the place."

"Indeed I have. My job's sent me on shoots all over the world, from the Sahara to the Arctic Circle."

"What about the Arctic Circle?" Trent asked. He looked exhausted when he came out to the narrow strip of beach, his uniform crumpled and circles under his eyes.

Loren found his diving mask. "Annabelle's a world traveler, from her job."

"A world traveler, huh? I believe it."

Annabelle gave him a sultry smile. "This little island's more like a vacation to me."

Trent rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, me too."

The blonde untopped a tube of waterproof suntan lotion. "Would one of you mind putting some of this on my back?"

When Trent stepped forward to take the tube, she gave it to Loren. Trent frowned.

"You'll definitely need this," Loren said, hands already shaking as he smoothed the lotion over her skin. "Shallow water magnifies UV rays. You'll have to reapply this all day; waterproof means it won't wash off for ten or fifteen minutes."

"Where's Professor Craig?" Trent asked.

"She's already out in the water"

Trent gazed out into the Gulf of Mexico, arms crossed. 'So today's the big hunt for the scarlet bristleworm, huh?"

"Yuh-yep," Loren confirmed. His hands gingerly spread the lotion around the strap of Annabelle's bikini top, then shakily slid lower.

"Loren, since you're down there, would you mind doing the backs of my legs?"

"Shuh-sure," Loren said. Now he knelt to find himself face-level with Annabelle's derriere.

Trent frowned again.

Annabelle glanced over her shoulder. "That's enough, Loren. Thanks.-

His hands continued to shake when he gave her back the tube. Annabelle fitted on her diving mask, then propped it up on her forehead. 'I'm ready when you are, Loren.'

"Damn, I forgot my collection bag. It's back at the head shack-I'll be right back." He jogged off into the trail.

Trent laughed when Loren was gone. 'You really made that kid's day. See how he was shaking?"

"Well, I wasn't trying to intimidate him."

"It's probably the first time he's ever had his hands on a woman."

Annabelle grinned but didn't look at him. "Your hands were doing all right last night."

The comment caused Trent to stall. "That's good to know."

"I hate to tell you this but what's-her-name saw us."

"Who? Professor Craig?"

"Um-hmm."

The lieutenant mulled it over, then shrugged. "Doesn't bother me what she saw. I couldn't care less about her. You're the one I'm interested in."

Annabelle coyly tapped his nose. "Oh, don't get all mushy on me. Last night was just one of those spontaneous things, you know.7

"Yeah, well, we need a lot more of those spontaneous things."

"We'll see," she said, still not looking at him. Now she checked the underwater housing for her camera. "And I'll bet seeing us last night made her day."

"She and the kid are a real pair."

Annabelle chuckled. "Geek Patrol."

"You really have to wonder about people who devote their lives to studying worms."

"She and Loren are peas in a pod, I'm afraid."

Trent nodded smugly. "Right, and now that you've changed the subject, I want to see you again tonight. And I want your number."

"Oh, the assertive type, I like that. But you don't need my number. It's not practical for us to continue seeing each other. I live in New York."

"They have these things called planes."

"We'll see," she said.

"One way or another, before this worm thing is over, I'll get your number."

"Shhh! He's coming back."

Loren reappeared with a net bag full of plastic specimen tubes. "Got 'em."

Now Annabelle was checking her snorkel. "I really can't wait to see one of these worms. I'll be credited with having the most recent photographs of it. Loren, how long till you think it'll take to find one?"

The young man had regained his composure after having had his hands on her preeminent body. 'Well, keep in mind that Pritchard's Key is the only known place in North America to have them. It's very rare, because of the shifting water temperature, like I was saying yesterday. It might take all day to find a scarlet bristleworm. It might even take all week. You don't just turn over the first rock you see and, bam, there it is."

Nora trudged up to them in her flippers, dripping water. She pushed up her mask and handed Annabelle a specimen tube. "Here's your scarlet bristleworm."

"You gotta be kidding me," Loren said, amazed. "How did you-"

"I turned over a rock and there it was," Nora told them, unimpressed.

Trent was laughing. "Outstanding. The rarest worm in North America and Professor Craig finds one in five minutes."

Annabelle held the clear tube toward the sun, peering at its brilliant bristly contents. "It's really disgustinglooking but it's also… incredible. The color-it's so bright, like a glowing ember."

"I just swam out to about a ten-foot depth," Nora explained, shaking off more water, "found a cool-flow, and started turning over rocks. There're lots of them out there. You'll see a narrow trench cutting down near that cool-flow. At the tip of the trench, there's a big chunk of reef about the size of a bus-that's where the nest is."

"This I gotta see!" Loren exclaimed, visibly excited. He dorkily plopped down the beach in his flippers and waded into the water.

Trent was still chuckling. "The kid acts like he just won the lottery."

"He's never seen a live one before," Nora said. "To a polychaetologist, that's like a coin collector finding a two-headed Buffalo nickel. Oh, and we'll be having spiny lobster and stone crab for dinner. I've never seen so many in one area before."