Edward Lee - Slither

The sergeant didn't question the lie. "Well, come in here. I want you to see something."

The corporal entered and followed the sergeant to one of the old power rooms that they'd converted for their own use. They used several of the rooms to monitor growth rates on some of the hosts.

The one named Howie, the corporal saw behind the quarantine enclosure's protective screen. The kid's body was so bloated that he'd busted out of his shirt and shorts. He shuddered, pouring sweat.

"He's still alive, isn't he?"

The sergeant nodded, and pointed to the vital signs meter. "Yep. Hope the poor bastard isn't feeling anything, but…"

"But he probably is," the corporal said.

"Yeah."

The corporal didn't care.

"Looks like he's about to blow," said the major, coming in behind them.

The sergeant and the corporal both snapped to attention.

"Yes, sir," the sergeant said.

"At ease." The major peered through the glass, intent on the spectacle. "So far the transfections have been close to perfect. And the infection rates from the worms and ova alike are occurring in less than twentyfour hours." The major looked more pointedly at the subject. "Is this a single-ovum infection?"

"No, sir," the sergeant answered. "A multiple gesta tion. He was infected by several ova and three or four live worms."

"Are the recorders on?"

"Yes, sir."

"Should be any minute-"

As if on cue, Howie's body began to buck, his wet skin slapping on the floor. His arms and legs seemed to vibrate, and it looked like his eyes were going to jettison. Then-

His back arched upward; the convulsions trebled. Soon the bloated body began to deflate as Howie's mouth poured forth a slew of live, inch-long worms. More worms-hundreds of them-began to evacuate the colon…

"Beautiful," the major whispered. His eyes glimmered on the scene.

The sergeant and the corporal traded glances. I'm about to puke, the corporal thought, and this guy thinks it's beautiful?

Moments later, Howie lay dead in a pool of shivering pink worms. The worms were peppered with hundreds more immature yellow ova.

The major grinned. "Gentlemen, that's what I call positive reproductive success of a genetically hybridized species. I can't wait for the colonel to see this replay." He pressed his hand to the glass, musing. "Look at all of them, will you? All of that just from one single human host…"

The sergeant winked at the corporal.

"Decon the room," the major finally said. "I want all the worms dead."

"Yes, sir. Should we clean the room for another host?" the sergeant asked.

"Not necessary. With a success rate like this? We'll be leaving very soon."

"What about the one in the next room, sir? The female from the first group."

"Oh yes, the in vitro. Leave her to hang awhile, we'll take readings on her till the very last minute."

"Yes, sir."

"As you were," the major said and left the room.

"He's so happy, you'd think he just got laid," the corporal said when it was safe.

"That's an officer for you." The sergeant took a last look through the glass. Now the worms were massing over the host, to eat.

The sergeant pulled a lever and then the specimen room filled with orange-hued gas, a combination dehydrant-bacticide aerosol. "All in a day's work," he said.

Whatever you say, Sarge, the corporal thought.

cm

"Christ, I feel like I just got run down by a semi rig," Jonas groaned. He dragged himself to the deck, a hand to his head. He squinted past the bow in disbelief. "You're shitting me! It's almost dark."

"No, shit, Sherlock," Slydes remarked from the captain's chair. "We both slept the whole day away."

Jonas scratched his straggly head. "Ain't that the damnedest thing… You sick?"

Slydes made a face. The old cabin cruiser creaked as it pitched slightly in the water. "I feel sicker than a shit- eatin' dog. Don't know what it could be."

"Me neither." Jonas steadied himself on a stanchion cable. His face was pale as cream. "I thought maybe the dope was too strong… but you didn't smoke none. And I've never been seasick in my life. Shit, man."

"How's Ruth? Is she sick, too?"

Jonas mouthed Ruth's name, then jerked his gaze around the deck. "Ain't she up here?"

"Hell no. I thought she been belowdecks with you all day."

.We… fuck! I can't remember! We smoked some of my weed last night at that old shack and got pretty fucked up. Then…" Jonas worked what little brainpower he had. "I came back to the boat but she passed out in the shack."

Slydes grimaced when he leaned up and looked at his watch. "Well, go find her and bring her back 'cause the tide's gonna start coming in soon."

Jonas looked to the darkening island and moaned. "Aw, man, I don't want to go lookin' for her. I feel like shit. Let's just say if she don't show up by high tide, we leave her."

Slydes spat over the side, grimacing at a taste in his mouth like when he was ten and his daddy made him eat some dirty cat litter for talking back to him. "You must've passed those college smarts out your ass the last time you took a shit, Jonas. If we leave her here, she'll get really pissed and turn our whole pot operation over to the cops once she finds her way back to the mainland. We can't leave her, you moron."

Jonas waved a bored hand. "No, but we can kill her. Maybe I'm just getting old, brother, but chicks are just too much hassle. She'll come back on her own before long. Then we'll take off, and when we're out to deep water,-we'll-just toss her over the side."

Slydes felt too lousy to do much calculating. "If we kill her, who's gonna clean the bathroom back at the house?"

Jonas rubbed his face, nodding. "Good point."

"So get off your skinny, pot-smokin' butt and go bring her back."

Jonas wearily climbed off the boat and staggered into the woods.

Slydes knew they would undoubtedly kill Ruth one of these days-probably on a gator troll: no evidencebut not just yet. Not till I tag her a few more times, he resolved. As the sky darkened, the island's noises rose. Slydes felt like throwing up again-the boat was rocking more now as the tide began to draw in-but he knew there was nothing left to upchuck. Don't even feel like drinkin' beer, he realized, and that meant he was really sick.

What'd I come down with?

Then he thought of those things.

Those squishy yellow bugs he'd found on himself last night. Slydes ground his teeth at the image. Had one of them bitten him, and passed him some germs?

Well, shit, goddamn…

A mild fever seemed to be seeping into him now; he was just nodding back off in the captain's chair when he heard…

Sobbing?

That's what it sounded like-like a woman coughing and crying at the same time. Slydes smirked.

Ruth's back, he knew.

Sure enough, just as the realization kindled, a sobbing and very distraught Ruth pulled herself up the side ladder.

"Where the hell you been, girl?" Slydes asked with feigned authority. You been out in the woods all last night and all day?"

Her face looked drained, her hair a mess-that is, more of a mess than it usually was. She collapsed to the deck, then drew her knees up like a scared child. "It was awful, it was awful!" she hacked.

Slydes had no concern whatsoever as to what had traumatized her. "You see Jonas? He just went out a few minutes ago lookin' for your sorry ass."

"I was almost raped, you asshole! And I was almost attacked by these big pink snakes!"

"Big pink elephants is more like it."

"Fuck you!" she belted out, tears streaming. "Didn't you hear me! I was almost raped!"

"Raped?"

"Yeah, fucker! I was almost raped by a yellow zombie!"

The good hard laugh which followed helped Slydes feel better. "Uh-huh. Yellow zombies and pink snakes."