Slither - Edward Lee [124]
"You always were the pussy of the family," Slydes challenged. "You ain't got the balls to drop that gun and go man to man with me."
"Shut up, Slydes."
"I kicked your pussy ass when you were a kid, and I'll kick it now. Daddy always knew you were the weakest of the boys."
Trent smirked. "I'm the only one who made anything for himself."
"Shit. You? The army? You ain't never had the balls for nothin', and you know somethin'? You ain't got the balls to pull that trigger."
Trent sighed. "I'm glad you said that, Slydes-"
Bam!
The round Trent squeezed off hit Slydes right in the nose and flipped him over backward. By the time he landed on his belly, he was dead. In only moments, ova could be seen exiting his mouth.
"Now let's get out of here," Nora said.
But Trent stood still through the veil of gun smoke. Now the pistol was trained on Nora.
"Oh, come on!" she yelled. "What? You're afraid I'm going to tell your superiors that you were letting your brothers grow pot out here? I don't care about it! I won't say anything! Let's just go!"
"I can't take the chance," he feebly replied. "It's my career."
"You're kidding me, right? Right now there's more crucial things going on than your little pothouse! Pardon me, but didn't you see the fucking spaceship that just flew over our heads?"
Trent was melting down from the pressure. He was standing right in front of the head shack on the end, which still had Slydes's key in the dead bolt. Just as he raised the gun's sights to Nora's face---
Something thunked on the head shack door.
Something inside.
Trent's eyes widened on her. "What ... was that?"
"Who cares?" Nora shrieked, her face red as a cherry. "Let's go!"
"I'll bet it's Jonas," Trent murmured. "Slydes admitted he didn't actually see him die ..."
Another thunk on the door. Trent reached out.
When he turned the knob, the bolt clicked, and-
"Holy fucking shit!"
-the door popped open as if hit by a battering ram. Nora saw at once what had been exerting such pressure against the door.-. . and so did Trent:
Hundreds of pink, shining, twenty-foot worms.
The scorching air that gusted from the head shack smacked Nora in the face with a smell like fresh manure. The worms existed as a shivering mass, covering the head shack floor to a depth of several feet until Trent had opened the door. It was a dam break, and Trent found himself instantly standing in the mass that poured out.
Shock and revulsion turned Trent's face white. When he tried to scream, only the most meager gasp escaped his throat. He all but uselessly emptied his magazine into the creatures that quickly coiled up his legs.
Nora moved backward, half paralyzed by the sight herself. She noted that she'd been wrong in her estima tion, as she saw now that some of the worms were stout as firehoses, and much longer than twenty feet. Several reared their eyeless heads above the mass as if to gloat over their catch, while Tent failed very quickly to escape. He was halfway to the knees in shivering worms.
Bugged eyes sought Nora: "Help me!" he begged.
Not a chance, Nora thought.
It was all Trent could do to stay on his feet. Worms coiled up his arms now, and his waist: Soon he was cloaked in them. He tried to wade out of the mass when one fatter worm spun round his neck and shot its head down his throat. The worm's body began to throb in waves as it began to empty its digestive enzymes into Trent's stomach. Two more thinner worms struggled down the back of Trent's shorts, seeking an alternate orifice. Trent's eyes looked on the verge of ejecting from their sockets.
More and more of the mass poured out, making a shivering pink carpet before the head shack. Nora kept stepping backward.
Eventually the largest worm of all emerged, raising above the mass cobralike. It was close to a foot in girth ... and God knew how long.
Though its head had no eyes, it seemed to look right at Nora.
Nora ran.
(VIII)
If their vocalizing could be properly converted and heard by a human, it wouldn't sound like "words" at all, but something