(I)
They moored the beaten cabin cruiser at the usual stop just when high tide hit; Jonas, hip-deep in the lagoon, caught the rope Slydes tossed and tied it off to a sweetgum tree.
"It's creepy tonight," Ruth commented as she lowered herself off the back ledge.
"What are you talkin' about?" Slydes asked.
She looked up and around, wading clumsily. "It's just… different. Feels weird. It's my female intuition. We have that, you know. I saw it on that Oprah show."
Slydes climbed off, frowning. Bitch is drunk again, or fucked up on something. The water lay like black glass. No moon roved overhead; more cloud banks were rolling in. Ahead, the island's wall of trees looked like an obscure, dark bulk. Slydes didn't feel quite right himself, but he didn't admit it.
Once ashore, the three of them stood dripping. Ruth's T-shirt clung to her breasts. When she raised a flashlight, Slydes snatched it away.
"I told ya, no fights. There's people on the island tonight."
Jonas seemed aggravated that he was wet. "Any idea if they're camping near the headshacks?"
"No, so that's why we gotta be extra careful." Slydes shirt read ST. PETE BEACH-A QUIET LI FLE DRINKING TOWN WITH A FISHING PROBLEM. "So remember what I tell ya. We get in and out fast as we can. I'll keep watch and Jonas, you get in, grab some product, and leave. Then we come back to the boat. We need to get out of here in a half hour before the tide goes back down too far."
"What do I do?" Ruth asked for instructions.
"You can tweak your titties for all I care. Just don't make any noise. It's past midnight now, and these photographer people are probably asleep. But you never know."
"Any of 'em chicks?" Jonas asked.
"What do you care!" Ruth objected and gave him a hard slap to the arm. Jonas had always had something of a voyeurism problem, and Ruth knew it. He actually had a lot more problems than that, but that was another story.
"Two of 'em, I think," Slydes said.
"And that goes for you, too!" Ruth added, and slapped Slydes.
Slydes latched a big, dirty hand to her face and squeezed her cheeks between her teeth. "Keep your voice down, ya pain in the ass."
Jonas swatted at a mosquito. Now that I think of it, how about -if-Ruth-stays here?"
"The fuck I am!"
'She's high as a kite and'll be yappin' the whole way."
Even in the darkness they could see her face redden. "I'm not stayin' here by myself! There's gators and snakes and stuff!"
"And leeches and ticks," Jonas added. "Oh yeah, and them big spiders that paralyze ya when they bite."
"Fuck that shit!" Ruth conveyed as eloquently as she could. Right after she'd said it, a bat squeaked by. "Fuck!"
Slydes pointed a smudged finger. "All right. No more noise or we leave ya here."
"Fuck," she whispered.
"So let's quit fuckin' around and get moving."
They moved slowly down the trail. Visibility was poor even when their eyes acclimated to the darker woods. Unseen animals could be heard scampering through brush. Slydes felt as though he were walking through fog.
A hundred yards in, he whispered, "Not a sound. Look."
They peered past trees. A light flickered. Tents had been set up in a small cove, and a campfire crackled. A blonde in a bikini sat before the fire, writing in a notebook.
Oh, man. There's a party, Slydes thought.
"Damn," Jonas whispered. "Would you look at the-"
Ruth glared. "I'll pop your nuts off if you even think about looking at her!" came a hot whisper in response.
Slydes chuckled. He had to admit, it might be fun to have a roll with this one and then maybe tune her up Slydes and Jonas-style afterward. After all, Slydes had his skinning knife on him, and he had a pair of pliers on the boat that he sometimes used to pull out gator teeth. Yeah, we'd get her screaming something fierce. But…
Not tonight.
We just get in and out, he reinforced to himself.
"Shit," Jonas whispered next. "How come these folks aren't sleeping?"
Someone else emerged from the woods and approached the blonde, who looked up and started chatting. In the firelight, Slydes could tell the guy was a big-time geek: skinny, lanky, stoop-shouldered. Who the hell's this turkey-neck? One of the photographers? "Let's move on," he whispered.
They crept away, swallowed by the woods again. The trail veered.
"What if there's people at the head shacks, too?" Jonas asked.
"There won't be. Ain't no reason," Slydes felt sure, then, Good god-DAMN!
The outside light glowed bright at the first head shack, and the door stood open.
"Aw, shit, Slydes!" Jonas whispered.
"I can't fuckin' believe this shit. There's no reason for any of these people to be here, for shit's sake!"
At least none that they could think of. It was the farthest head shack Jonas used for his hydroponic operation, at the other end. He knew if he took a chance now and blew it, they'd lose the whole works and a hell of a lot of money.
"I say we go in and get the dope anyway," Jonas said.
"No way," Slydes insisted. "We'd be morons to do that."
Ruth smiled in the dark.
Jonas wasn't happy. "Shit, Slydes, I don't even think there's anyone in that first shack anyhow."
"Then why's the door open, dick-for-brains? Why're the lights on?"
"Maybe-"
With no warning, Ruth squealed like a referee whistle.
Slyde's heart surged. He slapped his hand over her mouth to seal off the shriek, and felt her tremoring in his grasp. What the shit!
What was wrong with her?
"Quiet, quiet!" Jonas shot another whisper. He held up Ruth's quivering arm, which displayed a small thin snake. "It ain't nothin'," he said and plucked the snake off with his fingers and tossed it away. Shit, a little snake's all it was, Slydes thought. He kept his huge hand clamped over Ruth's face, and took a few silent moments for him and his brother to see if anyone inside the head shack had heard Ruth's outburst.
A shadow appeared in the bright, open doorway, and a figure stepped out.
Another chick, Slydes thought. What the fuck's going on here? And it didn't matter, because if she'd heard them, and called authorities, they'd have to beat feet off the island and leave everything.
All that pot.
The woman in the doorway looked wan, slim. She walked out and glanced around as if indeed looking for trespassers.
Then she shrugged and went back inside.
"We lucked out," Slydes said under his breath. "She didn't hear." He gestured with a jerk of his head to move off.
When they got to another clearing, Slydes realized he still hadn't let go of Ruth. She collapsed out of his arms when he released his grip.
"Shit, man!" Jonas exclaimed. He seemed almost amused. "Is she dead?"
Moonlight broke through some clouds. Ruth lay crumpled and still at their feet. I didn't smother the bitch, did I?
He began to worry just when her chest heaved and she snapped back to consciousness.
"Damn," Jonas remarked. "We could only hope."
Her eyes batted; she leaned up on her elbows. Then awareness returned. "Holy fuck! That snake!"
Slydes looked down, hands on hips. "You're as dumb as they come, girl. You almost blew it for all of us."
She seemed outraged by the comment. "There was a snake on me!"
Slydes dragged her up by the T-shirt collar and slammed her against a tree. it was just a baby pine snake, you empty-headed-fuck brain."
it was gonna bite me!"
Her eyes bugged when Slydes, again, slapped his big hand over her mouth. "If you don't keep your fuckin' voice down, baby, the next time I go trolling for gators, it's your ass I put on the hook."
Jonas smiled, popped a brow at the threat.
"Pine snakes ain't poisonous," Slydes went on, "and that one was too small to bite anyway. You are about the dumbest set of tits on two legs." He dragged his hand away and pointed at her. "We hear one more peep out of you, and you're gonna be a dead set of tits, you hear me?"
"All right, Jesus," she complained.
"What do we do now, Slydes?" Jonas asked. "We don't grab the weed soon and get out, we'll miss the high tide."
Slydes grumbled, rubbed his beard. "I know. We only got two choices. Leave now and come back when it's safer-"
"Let's do that," Ruth dared in the lowest voice.
"-or wait till that chick at the head shack goes to sleep. Then we grab some weed and go camp out ourselves in the middle of the island somewhere. And wait twenty-four hours for the next night tide."
"I can't put this off, Slydes," Jonas insisted, shaking his head. "If I don't put more product on the street, I'll lose all my bagmen to the competition. Don't matter how good my hydro is, I'll lose my rep if I can't put the shit on the street."
"Then it's settled. We wait till later and grab the stuff tonight."
Ruth's expression showed what she thought of that. "So we gotta sit in the woods for twenty-four hours? With all these snakes?"
Jonas smiled. "Yeah, baby. Maybe we'll tie ya to a tree and let 'em bite your titties. Or stuff a handful of 'em down those little shorts of yours."
"Oh, fuck you."
"Let's go back to the boat and wait a bit," Slydes said. "I need a beer." His thoughts strayed during the walk back. Tonight'll be a hassle but it's worth it, he knew. His brother's hydroponic pot demanded top dollar on the street for its quality, and it was a hell of a lot easier than dealing with that illegal gator meat. All in a day's work, he dismissed. Up ahead, he watched Ruth turn at a crook in the trail, caught a fine side glance of her body. Yeah, she's a big-time pain in the ass, but… The body was the thing, and her knowing what to do with it; hence, the chief reason he and Jonas kept her around. She'd tied off the T-shirt in a big knot, revealing a belly good enough for one of those ab-cruncher commercials. The night's humidity moistened the cotton fabric, which only divulged more of the large, heavily nippled breasts. As she walked, the bottom of her butt cheeks edged out under the shorts.
Yeah, he knew. She probably will be gator bait someday… but… In fact, a little romp back at the boat might help tone down some of the night's aggravations. I need to tap my love vein, he thought. He knew that Jonas was already sick of her, but as for himself? She's too good-lookin' to kill just yet.
When they got back, the clouds were breaking well. At least they'd have a little light now. Ruth sat back up on the prow, the breeze parting her hair, while Jonas snoozed in the back fishing chair. The boat rocked languidly in the water. The night seemed serene now: the moonlight fluorescing the woods, the crickets and peepers thrumming their drone. Slydes could appreciate none of this, however, not the transcendental type. He clattered belowdecks, snapped on the cabin light, and reached for a beer.
"The fuck…"
He'd nearly slipped on the ice, which was melting on the floor. The beer cooler had been tipped over. The cover to the map box hung open, and he was sure it had been closed earlier. And when he looked at the toolbox, the tools seemed… disarranged.
"Get down here!" he barked.
Jonas and Ruth rushed down.
"What?"
"Which one of you tipped my cooler?" Slydes demanded. "Were ya born in a barn? You knock something over, you pick it back up."
"I don't drink that shit," Ruth said. "I could use a line of coke, though. Or some crystal."
"You were the last one to get a beer, Slydes," Jonas reminded him. The fuckin' thing probably tipped over during the trip."
Slydes gave it some contemplation. He's probably right, but-"The map compartment's hangin' open, too," he added. "I didn't even use a map tonight. And see the toolbox? It's messed up. The rachet's always on top 'cause I use it all the time. I even used it today before we left. Now it's on the bottom.'
"Like someone was looking through it," Ruth presumed.
'Me door to the head's open too," Slydes added. "And I'm positive I closed it and put on the latch."
"Oh, fuck," Ruth groaned. "You guys are scaring me!"
Jonas' eyes were narrowed as he thought back. "I may have pissed after you, Slydes, and I don't remember if I latched the door, and come to think of it, I may have fished around the toolbox for the stub-head screwdriver 'cause I remember wishin' I had one when I was taking the screws out of the insulation panel I hide the weed behind."
"The map compartment could've just fallen open," Ruth said.
"What about the cooler?" Slydes asked.
Jonas laughed. "You're worrying about bullshit, man. A swell probably came through when we were on the island, tipped the fucker over."
Slydes mulled it over. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he finally conceded. He picked some beers off the floor and followed his brother and Ruth topside.
In truth, however, Slydes was right. Someone had rooted through the cabin when they'd been out.
But he was wrong about something else…
The thing that had landed on Ruth's arm earlier wasn't a baby pine snake.
(II)
"I repeat, zero-zero. Three more are on the island. Tho males, one female."
The radio line seemed to stall over the information. "I don't understand this. The island's supposed to be uninhabited."
"It's not now."
"Is the latest group military?"
"Negative, zero-zero. All three are civilians. They're acting discreet, though." Transients, the sergeant guessed. They're up to something. Why would they have Dome to the island at night?
"Be extra cautious." A hesitation. "We can't take chances at this point. If any of them see you, kill them."
"Roger, zero-zero."
"Out."
The sergeant stood in the brambles, thinking. He didn't know if this was good or bad. The more people who came out here, the more test subjects for the specimens, and so far that phase of the operation was working. Each day they were getting a more accurate picture of gestation periods, ovatic dispersal and function, mobility efficiency, etc. This was a lot of effort and expense for a biological feasibility study… but it was working. It was proof that genetically transfected hybrids could be used as weaponry.
So long as we don't get caught out here.
The sergeant didn't particularly like to kill civilians.
The corporal was finishing up with the cameras; they needed to monitor more of the island's outer perimeters.
"All done," the corporal announced.
"Good work."
"What did the major say about the new ones?"
"He didn't like it, and neither do I. All of a sudden this deserted island is getting crowded. And if any of them see us, we're supposed to kill them."
"No problem," the corporal remarked, looking around.
They already knew that the transfected species was perfectly compatible with the environment. He suspected that Research Command had a lot to do with it now. They want to know what it's doing to the civilians.. we've infected-.
They moved back to the head shack area; the door was still open at the first unit, the lights on.
What is she doing in there? the sergeant thought.
"How come you went on the boat that docked earlier?" the corporal asked.
"Just a quick check for weapons, and I disabled their emergency radio."
Then the lights went off at the first head shack.
The corporal pressed up against a tree. "Look. There she is again…"
They could just see her in the moonlight. The woman with the frizzy short dark hair came back out and closed the door.
"She's finally going back to the campsite. Now we can get a look in there and see what she was doing all this time."
The corporal's face shield turned. "Hey, Sarge, she doesn't look too bad, you know?"
What is WRONG with him? "None of that."
"Why? The major just said we can kill them."
"With discretion, and only if we're seen. You'd fuck an animal if you had to. You know what happens if you get written up."
"You'd write me up for that?"
The sergeant just looked at him.
No sense of duty, he thought.
When the woman disappeared down the trail, he was about to proceed toward the head shack, but the corporal grabbed his arm.
"Wait, Sarge. Look. They're back again."
They pulled back behind the trees. It was the three that had arrived tonight. They'd staked this area out earlier but then left. What are they up to?
They were loitering at the farthest head shack, then…
They opened the door and light bloomed.
The lights were already on in there. The sergeant mulled the fact over, and couldn't imagine why.
Then the three civilians went inside and closed the door behind them.
"This is getting pretty interesting," the sergeant commented.
"I really like the girl-"
*Shut up."
I'd really like to know what they're doing in there, the sergeant wondered. He had a feeling this was going to be a long night.
(III)
"There's my babies," Jonas said. There was pride in his voice. They all looked up at the twenty-foot-tall marijuana plants growing out of their urns.
All three of them squinted in the long room's strange, silverish glow. Sheets of aluminum foil lined all four walls. Stranger was the incessant drone, like a bubbling hum, from the airstones and their small aerator pumps connected to each.
"I love these rooms," Ruth said, stepping forward toward the erect, green-spiky rows. "The sound, and the silver light. It's like mellow acid."
Slydes rolled his eyes. "Our little hippie."
"Look at 'em." Jonas grinned upward. "They're busting twenty feet, I'll bet. They don't even get that big in nature, under the best circumstances."
Forty such plants filled the former missile silo, and they had forty more in the next head shack, too. "I'm getting nine, ten ounces of the highest THC content pot per plant, every three months. Average asshole only pulls two to four."
"Look at the flowers!" Ruth celebrated. "They're beautiful!"
"Yeah, baby, they sure are. And they're big. The bigger, the better. There's more THC in my pot than anyone's.'
"Quit bragging and let's get on with it," Slydes complained. He was tired, and they'd missed high tide going out. Which means we gotta stay on this island till tomorrow night… The skinny bitch in the first head shack had stayed there for another fucking hour. They hadn't counted on that. Shit, it's past one o'clock now…
Hydroponic homegrowers had several methods to choose from. Jonas used the "wick system," with ebb and flow urns; this was the best system because it grew the biggest plants, but the least popular because it consumed the most water and electricity. Water and electricity weren't a problem here, of course, because Jonas simply tapped into the army's unmonitored supply; hence the brightest lights round the clock, and unlimited fresh water. His only expenses were airstones and aerator pumps, Perlite, Pro-Mix, coconut planting fiber, and a lot of aluminum foil, which doubled the photosynthesis effect by bouncing back the light. That's why Jonas's plants were bigger and more concentrated. The average grower was limited to closets and basements, but with ceilings this high-and all this free light-Jonas was giving the plants more than even nature could provide. Charging a little more for superior pot was only good business. His customers just wanted more.
They checked the next head shack where, if anything, the plants grew even hardier. Then they moved to the third head shack.
"A damn good thing you have some ready to go," Slydes grumbled.
This was where they did the cutting, drying, and weighing. Jonas had tables and chairs set up for the various tasks, plus cartons of plastic baggies.
"That's because I always think ahead," Jonas bragged. "You always have your next delivery ready in advance. You know, Slydes, if you ran your poaching business like I run my pot business? You might actually make some money."
"Bend over real hard and blow yourself, brother."
Ruth giggled. "That I'd like to see." But then her eyes opened wide when she looked at the cement floor, and she shrieked, "Fuck!"
The men walked over.
"What the hell's that?" Jonas queried.
On the floor a small, bright pink worm squiggled across the cement. It was about three inches long.
"Ain't no earthworm, that's for sure," Slydes noted. "Not movin' that fast."
The worm made more tracks, leaving tinseled slime. It had traversed half the width of the head shack in the time they were looking at it.
"Well, ain't that just the shit?" Jonas said. "There better not be any of these things on my plants."
"It just looks… disgusting," Ruth said and glared. "Somebody kill it."
Jonas seemed very concerned. "What the fuck is that? A corn worm?"
Slydes stepped on it. "Nope. It's a dead worm. Now let's quit fuckin' around with worms and get the fuck out of here."
When Slydes lifted his shoe, all that remained of the worm was pink slime.
Jonas grabbed a plastic bag full of a pound of trimmed marijuana, then snapped off the lights.
Before they left, none of them happened to notice that the squashed remains of the worm were sizzling.