Edward Lee - Slither

"Outstanding," Trent said again. "Professor Craigyou are one squared-away polychhhh-polywhatever. I'll let you two finish the big worm hunt while I go look for more pot plants to burn. Have fun."

Nora stopped him. "Oh, Lieutenant? I wanted to ask you something. Didn't you tell us yesterday that the army took all the surveillance cameras off the island when they closed down the missile site in the eighties?"

Trent seemed piqued by the question. "Yeah, sure. This used to be a high-security military reservation. Why do you ask?"

"I think I found a camera, last night." Nora pointed back toward the edge of the forest. it was on this side, somewhere between the campsite and the head shacks."

"I guess they could've missed one," Trent supposed.

"And it was the strangest thing-I mean, I think it was a camera of some sort; it definitely had a lens. But it was really small."

"A surveillance camera would be small," Annabelle said.

Nora restrained most of a smirk. "Small as in tiny. It was like a half inch long, sticking out of a tree, and about as thin as a pencil. Just a stub."

"Might have been an old proximity sensor or motion detector," Trent reckoned. "But it's long been discon- nected.-Were there wires coming out of it?"

"No."

"Any indicator lights?"

"Nothing like that, either."

Trent didn't seem concerned. "Show it to me later, okay? It's probably just one of those old-generation electric eyes that would trip an alarm if someone crossed it."

"I'm sure you're right," Nora said. It just gave me this really uncomfortable feeling. Like when I looked in it, someone was seeing me."

Trent smiled at her paranoia. "I guarantee you, whatever it is, it hasn't been hooked up in over twenty years."

Trent walked off toward the trail.

"Spy cameras in the woods, huh?" Annabelle leaned over to adjust her flippers. "But you were the spy last night."

"Pardon me?" Nora couldn't believe what the woman had said.

"Oh, you know what I'm talking about, Nora. But don't worry, I'm not mad." She smiled to herself. "I'm not the inhibited type, being watched never bothers me. But, honestly, I never figured you for a voyeur."

It was too early in the morning for this. "Hey, I was just going for a walk in the woods. I had no idea you'd be out there fucking."

"Don't get so upset," Annabelle chided. "Nature has a way of taking its course, especially in an environment like this." She stood back up, her posture accentuating her bikini'd bosom and table-flat stomach. "I told you, I wasn't mad."

Nora glared, a headache pecking at her. "I don't give a flying shit if you are."

"I was just going to say"-the blonde maintained a quiet, controlled tone-"that Lieutenant Trent's pretty good, and I'm not a territorial person. So you can go for it, too, if you want. I don't mind."

"You're outrageous!" Nora almost shrieked at her. "I can't wait for you to go back to New Fucking York!"

Now Annabelle tinkered again with the big encased camera.

"Professor Craig-profanity doesn't become you. And you don't have to worry about being embarrassed around Lieutenant Trent."

Nora winced so hard that creases seemed permanently etched into her face. "Why would I be embarrassed?"

"I didn't tell him that you were spying on us last night."

"I wasn't spying!" Nora flat-out yelled.

"Shh! Calm down. Loren's coming back. You don't want him to hear, do you?"

Before Nora could yell further, Loren trudged back up to them, seawater running off his body in rivulets. He seemed frustrated. "Nora, I couldn't find that coolflow you were talking about."

Nora's teeth were grinding back and forth. "I'll be out in a minute."

Annabelle lowered her dive mask over her face. "Loren and I will find it, Professor. But you did a great job finding that first worm. I'm really looking forward to that lobster dinner you mentioned. Maybe later, you can show Loren and me where they are." She absently put a hand on Loren's arm. "We'll have a cookout tonight, it'll be fun!"

Then she and Loren walked back toward the water.

Nora fumed after them.

She didn't know what kind of game the photographer was playing. She looked around, wide-eyed in rage. Have I EVER been this mad? She sat down in the sand for a few minutes, trying to rein back in some composure. They can find the fucking worms, she decided. I'm done for today. And… the NERVE of that phony bitch!

Asa breeze began to dry her skin, she tried to reflect on herself. Is it me? There are lots of assholes in the world. I can't get this bent out of shape every time one crosses my path. Maybe this was why she'd chosen an academic-based career instead of something more socially connected.

And she knew she had to consider something else, too.

Deep down, in her most hidden subconscious fibers, was she actually jealous of the more attractive woman?

Hell no, she decided. And what was she talking about with Trent? Like now that she's "had" him first, it's okay for me…

The notion just infuriated her more. Trent was a dullard.

She took a few more minutes to shake it off. She was sitting right in front of a vinyl beach bag…

That's Annabelle's bag, she realized. It contained towels, flip-flops, sunglasses, and the like. And right next to it lay a tube of sunblock.

What was Nora thinking?

She looked to the water. Annabelle and Loren had already gone under. So she picked up the tube of sunblock and without even much forethought, scooped a hole in the sand, emptied the lotion into the hole, and covered it. The tube read SPF 45.

Nora refilled it with her own SPF 2.

She looked up to the blazing sun and nearly giggled. Now the bitch can go back to New York barbecued!

She felt like a juvenile delinquent pulling such a prank, but she figured she deserved it. It had been the comment regarding Trent that bothered her most, Like he's her property that she's giving me PERMISSION to use! Yeah, she thinks she's the queen of the hive, all right. Like she's on some horse's ass reality show. Annabelle Island. And Trent's one of her puppy dog grunts.

Nora was discovering her very own Peyton Place.

She pulled off her flippers and mask, then lay back on her towel. The sand beat heat into her back. In spite of the sour mood, she admitted, the water was perfect-clear as gin and just a degree above cooland she did enjoy snorkeling. She was trying to motivate herself to do something-go back on the worm hunt, catch some lobsters, anything. Or she could return to their makeshift examination lab and make some more notes on the strange yellow ovum they'd found in the shower stall. But a sudden fatigue hauled her down. Not enough sleep last night, she realized, eyelids drooping in the sun. She began to nod in and out, the mildest surf-sounds rocking back and forth in her ears…

When she roused herself, it seemed like she'd been sleeping about fifteen minutes. Then she looked at her watch.

"Oh, for God's sake!"

The sun had moved halfway across the sky. It was past noon. Annabelle, lying belly-down on a towel, turned her head to look at Nora. Loren knelt at her side, slowly applying more suntan lotion on the photographer's back.

"Look who's awake," Annabelle said.

"Hey, Nora. You slept the morning away." Loren looked over at her quite sheepishly, while his hands tended Annabelle's back.

"Hope you don't mind me borrowing your associate, Professor Craig. Loren, if you ever decide you don't want to study worms anymore, you'll make a great masseur."

Nora frowned, watching Loren spread more lotion on Annabelle. Look at him. He's getting his jollies being her personal cabana boy. At least there was a tiny satisfaction, though. She thinks he's using heavy sunscreen but it's really only SPF 2. She'll look like a fire truck by the end of the day. The bitch.