Slither - Edward Lee [80]
The three of them saw the trench and then the canary-yellow mass of crenelated coral. That's when they surfaced, treading water.
"You all saw the coral right at the tip of the trench," Loren said. "That's where the bristleworms are. Just start turning over rocks and you'll see them." He finnicked more specimen tubes from the net bag that floated off his belt.
"I'm ready," Annabelle said, hoisting her camera.
Both Trent and Loren were clearly diverted by the vision of Annabelle's floating breasts. "Are we going into the trench?" Trent asked.
"It's not advisable," Loren said.
"Why?" Annabelle asked. "I could get some great shots."
"What's in the trench?" it was Trent's turn to ask.
"Well, seafans, featherduster anemones, light-emitting coral that flashes like Christmas lights," Loren began.
"That sounds pretty cool," Trent said.
"Oh, let's go," Annabelle urged.
"And probably moray eels that are big enough to bite the limbs off humans ..."
"Oh, let's not go," the blonde corrected herself.
"Thank you. So we'll stick to the coral clusters, and we should find some great scarlet bristleworms."
"No time like the present," Trent said.
The outcroppings of coral were about twenty feet below them. A group of shining pinfish followed them down as if part of their group. Loren's eyes scanned past the coral to the end of the trench, which looked narrow and hundreds of feet long-a minor chasm that had likely been formed thousands of years ago during an underwater plate-shift. For a moment he actually considered investigating, but then noticed some baby hammerheads loitering at the trench's rim.
Naw, he thought.
His eyes invariably rose back to Annabelle, who hovered over the coral, looking down. Her legs would slowly open and close to stabilize her position as she fired off some test shots with the big camera. She might as well have been nude in the water, all that immaculate flesh suspended before rising bubbles. The image compelled unshakable fantasies ...
But it was all primordial, he knew. Eye candy, he thought, inciting my male genetic propensities. He knew now there was nothing really likable about Annabelle. She was the stuck-up leader of the cheerleading squad, who'd only settle in the end for the quarterback, the idea of social status raised to a personal priority. Shallow. Loren had encountered plenty of shallow people in his life of nerdom, and he'd had enough .. .
The only woman he really liked was Nora, but ...
She's my friggin' boss.
Such was life.
Trent was staring at Annabelle too, right at the tiny triangle of fabric between her legs. He's a caveman, all right, Loren thought, and wants to drag her back to the cave by the hair. It was clear they had something going on; Annabelle had already made her selection. Survival of the dumbest, Loren tried to rationalize. It was easier than admitting he'd never be the kind of tough guy most beautiful women were attracted to.
He moved in and started flipping over rocks alongside Annabelle. Beige sea dust rose in billows. But then Annabelle upturned a large flat rock, and ...
Recoiled.
Loren and Trent immediately spotted her reaction, and swam to her.
She jabbed her finger down violently toward a mass of scarlet bristleworms.
They were all bloated up to the size of Ping-Pong balls, some bursting before their eyes to release spews of tiny pink worms and minuscule yellow ova.
And these things have lungs AND gills, he reminded himself. They could be moving all over the island by now.
Trent and Annabelle swam back ashore, leaving Loren to tread the water in place.
He debated the idea for several more minutes. Then-
Got nothing better to do .. .
He dove back down, to collect more samples.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
(I)
Slydes got back to the boat after noon. Was it his imagination or