"I think we'll be milkin' that one for a while," Slydes projected. "We'll have the account drained 'fore they get wise."
Jonas winked. And it ain't like they'll ever find the body,*
"We'll be going to Clearwater tomorrow, so you can try to pawn the jewelry at some of the shops there."
"Clearwater?" Ruth asked. Finally, a break to the boredom. "We're going to the island?"
Jonas nodded. "Yeah, got no choice. That last pound went faster than shit; my hydro's so good the word spreads, you know? Couple months ago I had ten dealers wanting a pound a month. Now I got twenty-"
"I?" Slydes raised a brow at his smaller brother. "How's about we?"
"Aw, shit, Slydes. I'm the grower, you're the poacher. We stick with what we know."
"Right, but we're a team, bro. And you keep talkin' like you're the mastermind or some shit. Remember, it's my boat that gets us on the island."
Jonas pursed his lips as if he'd just swigged straight lemon juice. "I know that, but I'm just sayin'…"
"Yeah, well, you say too much."
Ruth shook her head. What a pair of rednecks. They split everything down the middle anyway, so she didn't know what they were always arguing about. Couple of macho morons…
Jonas danced his finger to the words. "We stick with that we know. I know growing grade-A hydroponic pot and you know guttin' gators-"
"And I know bustin' grade-A pussy, and you know bitin' the pillow in the cell block and takin' it up the tail."
"Aw, shit on you, Slydes!" Jonas yelled.
Slydes cracked laughter.
Idiots, Ruth thought. Whenever Slydes was at the back end of an argument, he always tossed up that little "joke," which wasn't totally a joke at all because Jonas had done five years in Collier County Detent, and being the skinny white longhaired fella that he was, well…
Jonas finally got back to his explanation to Ruth, who was now brushing out her blond shag that had been mussed from the wig.
"Gotta get some more right away or I might lose some of my bagmen to the competition."
"Well, that's just fine with me," Ruth said. She liked going out to the island. She pulled up her FLORIDA Is FOR DRUNK LOVERS T-shirt, showing her perfectly flat belly. "I need to work on my tan."
"Not this time, baby," Slydes informed. He stuck out a leg and farted.
Gross, Ruth thought. Chili.
"We're in and out real fast; no time for layin' out in the sun this trip."
"Oh, wait a minute," she remembered. "I thought you said we couldn't go to the island for at least another week, some nature photographers out there or something."
Slydes nodded his big block head. "Which is why we slip in and slip out, at night. High tide's at eleven p.m. tomorrow, and that's when I'll be pullin' up."
Fuck, Ruth thought. She liked to keep tan-it was good for tricks when Jonas and Slydes were too busy to realize what she might be doing on the side. And the island was perfect. But all this running around latelymainly running their errands-she'd lost most of that Hot Tramp Florida tan.
"Have some chicken nuggets, hon." Slydes offered a plate. "Jonas just got back from Chik-fil-A."
Ruth was famished. "Thanks!" she said, crunching a few down. "These are great!" When silence filled the room, she noticed Jonas and Slydes staring at her.
Then they both burst out in laughter.
"Those ain't chicken nuggets, hose bag!" Slydes roared. "It's fried gator dick!"
"You fuck!" Ruth yelled.
Slydes was cackling. Then he hugged her and smacked her another kiss on her big overly swollen lips. "Aw, it was just a joke, baby, and, mmmm-" One big callused hand slipped under her shirt and up her back, the other hand slipped down her jeans from behind. Ruth's nipples shot right up. She was… a reactive woman.
He sniggied her neck, the big hands still roving her skin. "Aw, baby, I really missed you."
"You did?"
"Aw, shit yeah. I just got a serious need to have my hands all over your beautiful body."
"Slydes! How sweet!"
"Tell her why, Slydes," Jonas bid.
"'Cause, ya see, baby, I'm all out of towels and I sure as shit need something to wipe all this gator slime off on."
Ruth couldn't have been more offended. "Fuck you!"
Slydes and Jonas heehawed like a couple of donkeys.
.Now be a good girl and drag them jugs back to the shed."
"And on your way back," Jonas added, "bring us a couple more beers. If you're lucky"-a cocky grin"I'll lay some on ya later," and then he spread his legs in the chair and squeezed his crotch.
Yeah, she thought. If I'M lucky. That skinny slob! At least the blockheads bought her jive about the watch being fake. That was five big ones in her little pocket, and-damn it-she deserved it. For all the shit work she did for those two?
Ruth's back creaked when she picked up the jugs. She weighed a hundred pounds on a "fat" day, and each of those three-gallon jugs must've weighed twentyfive pounds apiece. PROWASH: REPTILE HIDE DEGREASER, one read. The other: TRU-TAN SKIN PREP. It was the stuff Slydes used on the gator skin, and it stank. To herself, she admitted, Slydes was a great lover-the big, rough type, which she went for most of the time. But everything, his hair, his skin, his clothes-Even his jism! she thought with a knot in her gut-stank of these chemicals, all mixed, of course, with the fishy malodor of alligator.
The brothers swigged beer as they watched her lug the jugs-true gentlemen. "Oh, Ruth?" Slydes called out. "One other thing."
"Huh?" she replied, aggravated.
Slydes lifted his leg, twitched a hip, and farted.
The brothers laughed uproariously.
What a pair of perfect assholes, she thought, humping the jugs out the back door. Too bad I'm in love with the both of them…
CHAPTER FIVE
(I)
The major looked up at the sergeant. "This is impressive, Sergeant."
The microscopic scans flashed on the viewing screen, displaying the rate of success before their eyes. A live birth through a test host, the sergeant realized. The sergeant wasn't a technician-he'd been trained in surveillance and covert security procedures-but he knew this was what the brass wanted. Previous births using people and higher mammals hadn't worked out; after the ova had matured, the-juvenile-had been dead.
As the sergeant understood it, the human element had been an accident. There weren't supposed to be any people on the island, he knew. Until now they'd been testing on birds, for their migratory assets. This made perfect sense, of course: The transfections could be used more effectively against a potential enemy. Yeah, the brass'll be shitting their pants over this. There's a big difference between the lab and the field.
"This is better than we could have ever hoped for." The major typed some notes into his operating report. "Try to find some other bodies," he said. "If the nodic dispersals are as successful as these, we've hit some serious paydirt. We'll all get promoted, even the field contingent such as yourself and the corporal."
"That's good to know, sir." But all the while the sergeant was thinking, I won't count on that. The brass will hog it all, like they always do.
It didn't matter, though. The sergeant liked being in the field. It was the only thing that made him feel real.
"So you were saying." The major kept typing, never looking up. "Four more people have come onto the island?"
"Yes, sir."
"And one of them is military?"
"Yes, sir. I think it's just some sort of escort assignment. He's showing some civilians around."
"A field trip." The major almost laughed. Almost. "That's amusing. And the other two groups of four?"
"Four are dead and have already been infected-the first group from several weeks ago. The second group's half gone."
"But this third group… you're not worried about them?"
"Not at this point, sir. Nobody knows anything yet. I'm sure we'll have a positive infection rate in all of them soon. And by the time anyone from the mainland knows-" The sergeant shrugged. "We'll be gone."