Slither (31 page)

At that moment, she thought: I'm going to die now ...

She felt something tear through her swimsuit-and
her skin. Seawater burned into a six-inch-long gash
down her abdomen. The worm was now a belt tightened around her waist ...

Nora's knife had shot down, then, and cut the belt
in half.

She'd done it without thinking, cutting herself in order to cut the creature ...

Half of the worm's length drifted away, dead.

But this left the top half, still alive and squirming.

Nora's blade blurred across her eyes, and severed the
worm's head. It floated away, a squirming, pink lump.

The rest of the body unraveled, the clipped end re leasing a plume of tea-colored digestive enzymes as
well as a slew of underdeveloped ova. In a split second,
Nora watched those same corrosive enzymes burn up
any ova it came in contact with.

She managed to kick away, as still more of the acids
came only inches away from drifting into her face.

Her legs kicked independently from her mind. To escape the corrosive ooze, she'd kicked backward, farther into the trench, and then her back collided with
something .. .

A moment of thinking passed.

Then she shot up to the surface, where her head
broke the water only a few heartbeats away from the
point in which she would've drowned ...

I'm alive! was her first genuine thought.

She was slowly treading water, to stabilize her metabolism out of shock. Her chest heaved as she sucked
in breaths.

I have to get back to the others, she knew. But ...

But...

What had that been?

Not the worm, but the abutment she'd backed into
just after decapitating the worm?

Something not right .. .

Her confusion waylaid her. She was swimming back
down to the trench, knife in one hand, flashlight in the
other.

What the hell was that!

She had to know. A culvert of some sort? An oil
pipeline? But what purpose could such things serve
twenty feet beneath the Gulf of Mexico near a useless
island? She knew there were more worms down there,
yet her curiosity seemed fevered. The worms had more
than likely swum away, and the enzymes from the one
she'd killed would have dispersed in the current.
So...

I just have to see. She felt driven. What was that
thing I backed up against?

Her flippers pumped furiously; she swam back down
to the trench. Crystalline water glittered, prism-bright.
Ys and Ws of coral branched out from the bank, skeletal fingers that seemed to be pointing to secrets.

Nora slowed her descent, then stopped.

The trench stretched onward, probably several hundred feet, and widened to thirty. The sun's angle kept
the underwater gouge blotched in cool, teeming darkness. She couldn't see what she'd touched, and only
knew that it felt out of place, but .. .

Something's there, she noticed through a squint.

She'd have to surface for more air in another minute,
but not till she got a look.

She reached back out into the inkiness and felt it
again: a smooth, flat surface, slightly curved. Like
metal.

That's when Nora-mildly alarmed-veered the waterproof flashlight around.

She became severely alarmed when her eyes registered what she was seeing, and then she shot herself
back to the surface, gulping air.

That's-that's-that's ... CRAZY! she thought.

What she'd seen lying in the trench was an object
that could only be a naval submarine ...

He was supposed to be here an hour ago, the sergeant
thought. He checked all of the rooms in the old control
station. Where the hell is he?

The sergeant wasn't the overexcitable type. When
something went wrong, he simply fixed it, with a calm
professionalism. He'd sent the corporal out a while ago, to retrieve the climate sensors and the little bit of
field equipment that had been posted outside, but there
was no sign of him. Just what I need. A man away from
his post when the mission's winding down .. .-

He was about to check the monitors when he heard
footsteps coming down the hall.

The major walked in. "Good news, Sergeant. All of
the project's findings have been logged and processed,
and every duty protocol has been completed. It's time
to leave. The colonel's very pleased with the mission's
success."

"That is good news, sir."

"Looking forward to getting back to the post?"

"Yes, sir."

"Get the collection and security gear ready to take out.
I'll be securing the specimen data. We'll debark tonight."

"Yes, sir."

The major eyed him. "You seem ... reserved, Sergeant. Is something wrong?"

The sergeant sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Yes,
sir, it appears that there is."

"It appears ..." The ranking officer looked around
the room. "Where's the corporal?"

"I sent him out in the field earlier to take the climate
sensors off-line. He should have returned by now."

"So he's away from his post without authorization, is
what you're saying?"

"Yes, sir, at this point, I'd make that conclusion."

The major muttered something under his breath,
then leaned over the security monitors. "He's not in
any of the surveillance sectors. I know he was thoroughly screened before this assignment. Do you think
he abandoned the mission?"

The sergeant was sweating now. "No, sir. I just can't
see that. He knows that we'd find him."

"Does he have any abuse problems?"

"I don't think so, sir. Things like that are usually easy
to detect on missions like these. But ..."

"But what, Sergeant?" the major asked sternly.

"He may have a problem with unauthorized interaction."

The major went silent for several moments. "Don't
mince words, Sergeant. You mean you think he's out
there fucking one of the populace."

"I suppose it's possible, sir. Just based on some comments he's made."

The major shook his head, blank-faced. A blank
face, the sergeant knew, was worse than a tirade from
any other officer.

"If anything botches this mission, Sergeant, we'll all
be ruined. The colonel won't stand for it. He'll be busy
for a while so ... let's suit up. We've got to find the
corporal ourselves and get him back here."

"Yes, sir." But the sergeant groaned to himself. This
was one of the worst things that could happen.
-- -- --- - - - - -- --

He grabbed his protective hood and mask, thinking
of the corporal. I should've known. I'll kill him myself,
if the major doesn't beat me to it.

Part of him felt gypped. These people here were obviously into some bizarre sexual shenanigans. The
blonde was hanging on the tree, already naked.

All ready for me, the corporal thought.

He knew it was risky ... but he also knew there was
no way he'd end this mission before getting a piece of
her. At least he wouldn't have to fight with her-she
was hanging there for him, like a suit of clothes in a
closet. Less time fooling around. I'll be able to get
right to the goods ...

But her nakedness did make him feel a little gypped.
One thing he'd been looking forward to all this time
was the thrill of ripping her clothes off.

Neither of them had seen him watching. The man
was on his knees, getting to business. That's when the
corporal stepped out and jacked him in the head with
his service tool.

The blonde had seen him in that last second. The
look in her eyes was delicious: pure horror. Yeah, the
corporal thought. He liked that. She'd only had a second to scream when-

Clack!

The corporal jacked her out, too. She hung limp
from the tree now. Had he killed her?

Who cares?

The corporal had to make this one quick, real quick.
The sergeant thought he was out pulling in some field
equipment, but the corporal had already done that. If I
got caught out here, that would be it for me.

But this blonde was too much. Some things were
worth the gamble .. .

There were other risks, too-the worms and ova, especially. But his field suit and hood would protect him.
The thalate and ethylene fibers in the fabric would repel the worms like tear gas, at least that's what they'd
been told. The corporal unzipped the front of the suit
down to the crotch.

He degloved, too. He had to touch her.

Oh, man, this is some prize, he thought, kneading
the plump breasts. His hands slid down her sides, reveling at the sensation of warm, damp, tight skin. He
could stand only a few moments of this before he lifted
her down and dropped her to the ground.

The rape was simple and precise. No frills. Too bad
you won't be conscious for the best fuck of your life, he
thought. He just climbed on and did it. One, two, three.

For some reason, it was always more satisfying when
it was against their will.

Now you have something to remember me by.

She hadn't moved a muscle throughout. Again, he
thought she might be dead, but then after he made a
last grab on her breasts, he felt a heartbeat. The idea of
killing her crossed his mind, but the corporal knew he
didn't even have time for that. I better get back to the
field station before the sarge gets wise. He zipped his
suit back up and redonned his gloves.

Yes. The corporal really liked these field assignments.

He took a last look at the blonde, who lay crumpled
and spread-legged, wrists lashed over her head.

No, he decided. I won't kill her. I'll leave her for the
worms instead.

He was about to make tracks back to the station, but
stopped cold. He thought he'd heard a sound.

A metallic click.

Then came the last sound he'd ever hear.

Bam!

The corporal collapsed right on top of the blonde,
dead from the bullet that had slammed into the middle of his back.

Gun smoke stung Loren's eyes. He couldn't believe
what he'd just done; he hadn't even given it a thought.

Holy fuck! I just shot a guy in the back!

Only after the pistol pumped out its round did Loren
remember he'd never fired a gun in his life. The
weapon kicked so hard, it flew out of his hand .. .

He stared through vertigo for several moments, listening to his heart beat. Annabelle's rapist had collapsed right on top of her. When Loren snapped out of it, he rushed over, yanked off the motionless assailant,
and tended to Annabelle.

Ohno...

Her hands were tied and lay limp over her head. Her
legs were disarrayed. Loren felt encased by dread when
he put a finger to her throat to check for a pulse. After
what seemed a minute, he found one and sighed in relief. He jostled her around, gently slapped her face, but
she remained out cold.

"Goddamn, what the hell happened?" Lieutenant
Trent had just come to. He sat up, a hand to his head,
then stared in disbelief at the scene.

"That guy in the suit raped Annabelle," Loren's voice
cracked. "So I ..."

Trent saw the revolver on the ground. "You shot
him?"

"Yeah. Uh, in the back."

Trent instinctively checked his gun belt, found his
own pistol intact, then leaned over the man in the suit.
"Man, this is really fucked up. Who is this guy?"

"I don't know but that gear he's wearing looks military to me," Loren said. "We need to get out of here
right now and find Nora. That guy's got colleagues who
are going to be looking for him."

"You're right ..." Trent grabbed the gas-masked
man's shoulder, to look at him. "He's military, all right,
but I can't tell what branch." The mask's eye portals
were mirrored. Trent yanked at the hood but couldn't
get it off.

"Help me with her," Loren said. "We need to leave."
He picked the revolver up and stuck it in his waistband.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Long story, I'll tell you on the way."

They each shouldered one of Annabelle's arms and
stalked off.

"This is crazy," Trent muttered. "Military personnel
in decontamination suits?"

"Yeah, and surveillance cameras in the woods and our
cell phones and your radio being electronically jammed.
Plus a parasitic worm that looks like a genetic hybrid, a
damn gene-splicing experiment or something-all on an
island nobody knows about."

"I'll bet that guy's with the Army Research Command. We walked right into the middle of one of their
black projects by accident."

It sounded too coincidental, but after he thought
about it, Loren had no choice but to agree. "I can't
think of anything else it could be," he said. "We're in
the middle of it, all right, and now we have to get out
before we wind up dead. Other people have died on
this island-"

"The body you said you saw in the water-"

"Not just that. This pistol I have I took off a dead
college girl. She'd committed suicide with it, after
telling me that other people have been killed by the
worms."

"What?"

Loren sighed. "Just wait till we find Nora. I'll tell you
the whole story."

They huffed through more brush. Annabelle didn't
weigh much, but under these circumstances, the burden-was wearing both men out.

"Stop!" Trent said in a sharp, sudden whisper.

"What?"

The lieutenant stared at Loren. "Did you hear that
noise?"

Loren looked desperately about, listening. "I ... I
don't think so ..."

"Something rustling." Trent seemed sure. He looked
up into the trees. "It sounded like it was above us."

Loren looked up, too. "Probably, uh, probably one of
those big iguanas, or a tree-nesting bird."

"Yeah," Trent muttered back. "You're ... probably
right."

Before Loren's perceptions could register, something
fell from the tree, as if unraveling. He thought of a hose
being dropped: pink hose, and that's essentially all he
could think before the two-inch-wide, twenty-foot-long
worm unfurled from unseen branches, deftly coiled
about Annabelle's chest, and began to lift her upward.