Slither - Edward Lee [10]
The kids sure liked to party here. Three boatloads so far. They came to the island in spite of the warning signs and the rock-strewn beachless shore, to imbibe in every chemical and carnal indulgence. This one had been the prettiest of the first bunch, until the things had gotten her.
A few vestiges of her sexuality remained printed on the gray, putrefactive skin. The brown circles of nipples on once-sumptuous breasts, the groove of her sex, even the ghosts of tan lines. She was a skeleton dressed in flesh-tone rags that were falling off the bones.
Yet even looking at it this close left the sergeant unfazed.
It's just my job, he realized.
The island habitat shivered around him. Parrots cackled, lizards scampered up the trunks of palm trees. It's all so beautiful, he thought, and then he looked back down at the corpse and smiled.
There would be more corpses very soon.
(II)
"I've never done it in the woods before," Leona informed him.
Bullshit, Alan thought. You've done it everywhere, with damn near everybody, and I couldn't care less. He supposed he loved her, though, almost as much as he loved her body and the things she did with it. "It's not really the woods. It's a tropical terrain ..."
"Whatever."
She was sitting on him, looking down. Beads of sweat glittered on her skin, like jewels. At one point she arched her back to gaze upward at the trees, and her head disappeared in the cusp of her considerable cleavage. "That's a neat trick," Alan said.
`What?'
'Nothin', babe."
Their lovemaking had put him to the test, but he couldn't let her know that. Jesus. A steamroller. Her tanlines raved: the Cool Whip-white pubis-hair-freesitting in the middle of all that peanut butter brown. Alan marveled. She didn't keep shaved for all the other guys, he knew. Guys always talked. I guess I'm special! The tan lines of her breasts were even more pronounced when she looked back down at him and grinned. "'T'hat was great, Alan."
"Oh yeah?-
She jumped off him and scampered away, nude as a wood sprite. Her carbon-black hair danced around her head. "Come on!"
Shit, I'm too tired to get up! "I'll be in. Gonna lie here for a few, grab some TM."
"Whatever." The chirpy giggle faded.
Man...
The island was great. Alan had partied out here about a year ago. Waiting for the high tide had been a bitch, but once they'd found the inlet, the rest was a breeze. At first he'd' feared that all Leona saw him as was a rich kid with a nice boat. Called that one wrong, he thought to himself. Guess I'm more of a package than I thought. It was a gratifying revelation.
Eventually he dragged himself up. He hobbled barefoot over twigs and dead palm branches, and made his way back to the shed. "What are you doing?" he yelled in the doorway
Leona paused midcut. Still naked, she stood with a pair of scissors at her jeans. "I'm turning these into cutoffs. Didn't know it would be this hot."
Alan was outraged. "I got you those for your birthday! That's a hundred-and-fifty-dollar pair of Sevens jeans!"
Her bare shoulders shrugged as she snipped off the last leg. "Now they're a hundred-and-fifty-dollar pair of Seven-brand cutoffs." She squeezed into them, fastened the button below the slitlike navel, then stood up on her tiptoes and raised her arms. "There. Now you can see more of my legs. What, you don't approve?"
Alan gulped. A topless Leona in cutoffs not much bigger than a pair of panties? "I approve."
"Thought you would."
Alan stepped into his trunks and looked around. This old shack was ramshackle but it would do. They'd brought summer-weight sleeping bags, plus the Coleman to cook on. And a big cooler of booze, he reminded himself.
"Look what I found," she said, handing him something.
An embroidered patch. A gold-rimmed shield with three arrows and a lightning bolt. Letters read: u.s. ARMY MISSILE COMMAND. "Where'd you find this?"
"The shelf."
"This place was a missile base a long time ago," Alan recalled, "but the missiles are long gone. The old station is on the other side of the island."
Her eyes widened with a question.