Edward Lee - Slither

Nora had been clotheslined, but not by a branch.

By a girthy arm.

A bearded face hovered over her.

Echoic words floated from slow-motion lips. "Hey, baby. My name's Slydes. What's yours?"

Then a knuckly fist to the forehead knocked her out cold.

(VI)

Loren stood dumbfounded at the campsite. Yeah, I need this headache! Trent was not to be found.

He foolishly checked all the tents, if only because he could think of nothing else to do. Right, he thought. Like the lieutenant's going to be taking a nap… He was about to start calling out, but thought better of it. Trent's out there somewhere… but so are those guys. Loren had no choice but to think of them as that: those guys. Those men in the masks and black hooded suits. He simply didn't have it in him to use the more specified label:

Alien research technicians.

But it was true and he knew that. And he knew they were still on the island. He'd seen a total of three of them on the surveillance screens.

What should I do? a voice unlike his own demanded. Perhaps the voice belonged to his more courageous alter ego. He walked anxious circles around the site, glancing incessantly at his watch.

Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen…

Nora said she'd be right behind me, he thought. She should be here by now, and so should Trent.

He stood still and listened. Just then the island utterly lacked any sound at all. Not even a parrot squawked. Not even a lizard scurried up a tree…

Where is everybody?

Loren, of course, already knew what he should do: Got to look for them! he thought. Find Nora, find Trent, and then we can get to the boat and leave! Unless…

Unless those guys in the masks and black suits-the ALIENS, he forced himself-had already killed Nora and Trent.

Or maybe something worse…

Maybe the worms or their ova had gotten them by now. He'd seen how fast Annabelle had been lost. It could just as easily have happened to them on their way back here, and come to think of it… It could happen to me, too.

Of course it could.

And he still had the bomb in his pocket. He removed the puck and saw with some unease that about twenty percent of the blinking border was gone. How much more time before this thing goes or. And what the FUCK am I going to do with it?

Loren didn't care for pressure or stress, and he wasn't much of a decision maker.

But providence was changing that today. He could either stay here, or he could bone up and go search for Nora and Trent.

Do it, the other voice demanded. Don't be a coward…

Loren took the gun out of his waistband. Three bullets left, he knew. Then he pocketed the disk and decided he'd cut through to the other side of the island and throw it as far out into the water as he could.

He jogged off down one of the trails. Trent said he was going to check the body, so it made sense to look there first, then ditch the bomb, then track back to the control station. He could think of no other tactic.

Immediately the trail seemed more dense, hemming him against the paranoia that pressed from either side, below, and above.

The worms could be anywhere, he knew.

He moved very slowly, examining his field of vision. Gun in lead, he felt foolish. He knew a bullet would kill a worm with a head shot, but he only had three bullets. There are a hell of a lot more than three worms on this island. Worse, he was squinting through each forward step, peeling his eyes for signs of ova that, by now, probably existed by the hundreds of thousands.

One further question haunted him: If I don't find Nora or Trent, what am I going to do?

He'd have to go to the boat and leave without them.

"Loren," a peep of a voice seemed to seep through trees.

"Nora!" he replied. He wasn't sure which direction.

'Oh God, I think I broke my leg…"

Not Nora's voice-

He stepped a few yards off the trail and saw her, lying sprawled in the thicket.

Annabelle.

Loren stared down, gun poised.

She lay naked, inclined on her elbows. When she tried to lean up farther, she groaned. But what Loren noticed first and foremost was this: She looks… normal.

She winced through obvious discomfort when she looked more closely at him. "What's wrong with you? Why are you pointing that gun at me?"

"I-" He didn't lower it. He saw no ova on her, and no-yellowed-skin like the girl in the boat.

No sign of infection.

But… that worm…

"Put that gun away and help me!"

"You-you must be infected," he finally choked out. "You have to be."

"Don't be an idiot, Loren!" she snapped. "Do I look infected?"

Loren eyed the robust breasts and healthy, tan belly. Actually, he considered, you don't. "But that wormTrent and I saw it. It was dozens of feet long, Annabelle, and it lifted you up into the trees."

"Tell me about it!" she griped in her normal voice. "That goddamned thing was trying to go down my throat, but once it got a whiff of this"-she held up her wrist, showing her plastic repellent bracelet-"it gagged and dropped me. I must've fallen twenty feet!"

Loren's brain ticked. He had no choice but to doubt what she claimed; it didn't jibe with the science. Those bracelets, as well as the bug repellent they'd been using, were only strong enough to discourage small insects with microscopic sensory pores that would easily be overloaded by the small traces of chlordane and diethylbased irritants. But a twenty- or thirty-foot worm? It would be like killing a wild boar with a mousetrap.

Then again… bug spray killed the ova and smaller worms, he remembered. And as a matter of fact, I haven't been infected, and neither has Nora or Trentand we all used bug repellent and the bracelets.

"Loren! Just when I was really starting to like you, and now you're really pissing me off! Would you stop being a chicken and come over here and help me!"

He knew what Nora would do; she'd help her. Plus, if anything, Annabelle looked one hundred percent as healthy as she had earlier. The trickle of remnant attraction assailed him as well, even under these conditions. Any real man would feel the same thing. Her raw beauty lay before him, and she was in pain: the ultimate damsel in distress…

Loren put the gun away and went to her. "You said you broke your leg?"

She ground her teeth. "I think so, when I fell out of the tree-my right leg. It hurts so much."

Loren placed his hands on the warm leg, felt for signs of fracture. "I think you lucked out," he said, trying very hard not to steal a glance at her breasts. "There's no swelling, and I don't feel any bone fragments under the skin. You probably jolted the cartilage in the knee and hip, though, and that's going to hurt fora while. Let me help you up, see if you can walk."

She groaned again, head arched back, as he got her to her feet.

"Can you put any weight on your leg?"

She clung to him with one arm, and gingerly stepped forward. "Yes-damn! It hurts, but I think I can walk."

"Good. Let's take it slow."

At least Loren had some direction now, but… Jesus, I've got to move fast. Got to get Annabelle to the boat, then find Nora and Trent and get THEM to the boat. And then get out of here… AFTER I get rid of this bomb in my pocket!

They limped along down the trail. This was going to take a while. The bomb ticking away in his pocket only reminded him further of how little time he had to get everything done. And…

How powerful IS this bomb? the worst dread kept forcing him to think. Loren didn't need that question distracting him, and a distraction he needed even less was Annabelle's warm, curvaceous body pressing right against him. One big breast kept rubbing his side, and every time he cast a tiny glance down…

Oh, man…

During one such glance, he could swear her nipples were erecting, which hardly made sense given the situation. Stop looking at her, you pervert! he yelled at himself.