The same color as the worms.
The new pink arms, in fact, looked more like fat, sturdy worms themselves. No nipples or navel adorned the chest, just a remnant human musculature covered by fresh-pink- skin.
Even in this utter madness, Ruth was able to think: What the fuckin' FUCK is happening?
A transformation was happening, not that she could've been technically aware of that. After all, she still thought Robb was a zombie. He was actually now a late-cycle mutant. His robust health had allowed him to survive a full mutagenic conversion, his altered genes bidding this successful wedding of human DNA with genetically transfected worm DNA.
Next, Robb pulled off what was left of his scalp, revealing a glistening pink head with an aperture at the top. His head seemed to collapse, the skull cracking heartily, and then that aperture expanded and expelled the chunks of Robb's cranium. Without the support of bones now, the mass of pink flesh on Robb's shoulders distended and looked a lot like one of the eyeless conical heads of the worms.
Two species were merging into one before Ruth's eyes. But there was still the yellow skin from the waist down…
Robb stepped out of it, like stepping out of a pair of pants.
Gleaming pink legs stood V'd over Ruth. What covered Robb now, clearly, was worm skin. Even his toes looked more like the ends of worms than human toes.
But Ruth couldn't have cared less about the toes.
Her eyes shot to Robb's crotch.
What hung there was purely and simply a fat, teninch worm.
Oh, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, Ruth thought.
Now Robb had something to rape her with, and worse still was the fact that the worm… was erecting.
That's when Ruth grabbed the barbecue fork and hooked it right into the pulsing column.
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 labeclass="underline"
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.
He stood still and listened. Just then the island utterly lacked any sound at all. Not even a parrot squawked. Not even a lizard scurried up a tree…
Where is everybody?
Loren, of course, already knew what he should do: Got to look for them! he thought. Find Nora, find Trent, and then we can get to the boat and leave! Unless…
Unless those guys in the masks and black suits-the ALIENS, he forced himself-had already killed Nora and Trent.
Or maybe something worse…
Maybe the worms or their ova had gotten them by now. He'd seen how fast Annabelle had been lost. It could just as easily have happened to them on their way back here, and come to think of it… It could happen to me, too.
Of course it could.
And he still had the bomb in his pocket. He removed the puck and saw with some unease that about twenty percent of the blinking border was gone. How much more time before this thing goes or. And what the FUCK am I going to do with it?
Loren didn't care for pressure or stress, and he wasn't much of a decision maker.
But providence was changing that today. He could either stay here, or he could bone up and go search for Nora and Trent.
Do it, the other voice demanded. Don't be a coward…
Loren took the gun out of his waistband. Three bullets left, he knew. Then he pocketed the disk and decided he'd cut through to the other side of the island and throw it as far out into the water as he could.
He jogged off down one of the trails. Trent said he was going to check the body, so it made sense to look there first, then ditch the bomb, then track back to the control station. He could think of no other tactic.
Immediately the trail seemed more dense, hemming him against the paranoia that pressed from either side, below, and above.
The worms could be anywhere, he knew.
He moved very slowly, examining his field of vision. Gun in lead, he felt foolish. He knew a bullet would kill a worm with a head shot, but he only had three bullets. There are a hell of a lot more than three worms on this island. Worse, he was squinting through each forward step, peeling his eyes for signs of ova that, by now, probably existed by the hundreds of thousands.