Slither - Edward Lee [117]
Blood that was white shot out on hot jets, painting Ruth's determined face. The sound that Robb made in objection bore no semblance to anything human now. More like stabbing a barbecue fork into a rhino's penis.
The shed shuddered around the concussive sound.
Ruth became a blond maniac dynamo. The fork blurred as she jammed it in and out of Robb's abdomen. Then more jabs in the neck, then a few more in the boneless sack that used to be his head.
Dust rose from the wood floor's seams when the fully mutated Robb White collapsed. Ruth jabbed the now-flaccid penis-thing one more time, then ran like a banshee out the door.
Her brain still registered very little. All she knew was that she was no longer in that Shed from Hell, and she was breathing fresh air, not monster-stink.
Her shorts still rung her foot. She pulled them on and sprinted off down the first trail she saw. She only knew that she was going to run straight to the beach and start swimming.
It was worth the chance, even with the sharks.
(V)
First Nora checked the camp. They're not here, she thought in the biggest disappointment. That meant she'd have to go looking, and there was precious little time for that. She found another can of repellent in Trent's tent, then sprayed herself down liberally. For all the good it'll do against those things, she told herself, remembering just how big the worms could get.
Frustration overwhelmed her now. She jogged down the trail. That was stupid! Her heart still hadn't let up. Maybe God really had saved her. But for what? she wondered.
Did she really deserve to be saved? How different would her life be if she survived this mess? Even amid the chaos and all the impossibilities, some recess of her mind seemed to dwell on that.
Try to do some good, she told herself.
She veered off back toward the RTG.
I'll find a way to disarm it ...
But when she got there ...
"How the hell?" she muttered.
It was gone.
She squinted down at the cement slab. The area where the black disk had been seemed blemished, even corroded somehow. Well, that's sure some shit ...
Then it occurred to her, One of the guys in the masks must've moved it. They must know we're onto them ...
So what now?
When she turned she almost shrieked.
A dead worm lay like limp rope across the clearing. End to end, it must've been thirty feet long.
She felt caught in a cross fire of confusion. Back to the campsite, was the only recourse she could think of. She took back off running ...
An unseen impact slammed her chest and plowed all the air from her lungs. It happened too fast for her to think. Had she run into a branch?
Her back slammed the ground.
Consciousness began to fizzle, her peripheral vision going from gray to black.
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.