Slither - Edward Lee [4]
"And the overall study of worms," Loren continued, "is called helminthology."
"Wow," Annabelle said.
Nora couldn't believe it. He just told her that he's a worm specialist ... and she's impressed.
"I'm just a photographer," Annabelle chatted on. "But listening to a -real scientist-it makes me feel so dumb!"
You are, Nora agreed. She's got the high-paying job, and she's got the looks, but ... at least I've got a better tan.
"What I'm looking forward to most of all," Annabelle prattled on, thrusting her bosom forward against the straps, "is getting a tan. I work out so hard in the gym to keep my body fit ... I guess while I'm in Florida, I should take advantage of the sun, too. Look my absolute best."
Unbelievable ego, Nora thought. She winced out the window. Even if I DID look like her, I KNOW I wouldn't be an asshole about it.
As for the trip itself, the university had sent Nora and Loren on the excursion, since they were local and their credentials were unmatched. The whole affair had been chartered by National Geographic, no less. It sounded exotic.
It's a shitty little island with no beach and it's uninhabited, Nora's cynicism kicked in. And we might have to stay there for a week or more. I'll miss Desperate Housewives just so this bimbo can snap some pix of a Polychaete scarlata. Annabelle was one of the lauded magazine's professional underwater photographers. NG needed a new picture of the scarlata, one of the world's rarest marine worms. And it's a hell of a lot cheaper to go to Pritchard's Key than a threethousand-foot-deep trench in the Mediterranean. It was Nora's and Loren's job to locate the exceptional worm for Annabelle, for a pictorial on segmented marine bottom dwellers, and since Pritchard's Key technically remained a military reservation, however nonoperational, Trent was sent as the team's official escort.
Hence, the circumstances that had planted Nora's derriere on the hard troop bench of an old helicopter.
What a festival of joy my life has become ...
"Crabs, fish, sharks, even killer whales," Annabelle distinguished. "I've photographed them all, at some pretty deep depths." She hitched in her seat, to shed an imaginary discomfort, but Nora knew it was a pose. She's sticking her tits out so the grunts will get all riled up. Nora felt certain of it. She's the tribal queen and she's marking her turf, showing the skinny girl that she's got no chance.
"But I've never shot marine worms," the blonde went on. "What's so special about this one?"
It infuriated Nora the way Annabelle focused her questions toward Loren and not Nora herself, who was the more qualified expert.
"It's the rarest Polychaete," Loren answered. "And it's probably also the most stunning to look at. Brilliant red stripes run between its parapodia-the rings around its body."
Now a hint of concern came into Annabelle's tone. "How big is it? The idea of, like, really big worms? Yuck. That would gross me out. Spiders, roaches, and big worms. That's it for me."
"Then have no fear, because the Polychaete scarlata never grows more than a couple of inches long."
"That we know of," Nora pointed out.
Did Annabelle actually glare at the comment?
Loren laughed it off. "Oh, Professor Craig is only kidding, Annabelle. It's impossible for a warm water worm such as this to get any longer than an inch or two."
"Oh, thank God!" the blonde laughed, but when she brushed a tress of hair off her brow, she did it with her middle finger.
A display for Nora's benefit?
Nora put her cheek in her hand. This is going to be a peachy trip.
The aircraft noisily touched down on a long-since overgrown helipad carved into one edge of the island. "Oh no! The little lizards!" Annabelle fretted at the window. Nora smiled when she peeked out, saw the helicopter's air-blast blowing countless dozens of little anole lizards out of the palm trees.
"They're so cute!" Annabelle continued to object. "We're killing them!"
Shut up, you airhead, Nora thought. If those things were bigger, they'd eat you alive.