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.

  One further question haunted him: If I don't find Nora or Trent, what am I going to do?

  He'd have to go to the boat and leave without them.

  "Loren," a peep of a voice seemed to seep through trees.

  "Nora!" he replied. He wasn't sure which direction.

  'Oh God, I think I broke my leg..."

  Not Nora's voice-

  He stepped a few yards off the trail and saw her, lying sprawled in the thicket.

  Annabelle.

  Loren stared down, gun poised.

  She lay naked, inclined on her elbows. When she tried to lean up farther, she groaned. But what Loren noticed first and foremost was this: She looks ... normal.

  She winced through obvious discomfort when she looked more closely at him. "What's wrong with you? Why are you pointing that gun at me?"

  "I-" He didn't lower it. He saw no ova on her, and no-yellowed-skin like the girl in the boat.

  No sign of infection.

  But ... that worm ...

  "Put that gun away and help me!"

  "You-you must be infected," he finally choked out. "You have to be."

  "Don't be an idiot, Loren!" she snapped. "Do I look infected?"

  Loren eyed the robust breasts and healthy, tan belly. Actually, he considered, you don't. "But that wormTrent and I saw it. It was dozens of feet long, Annabelle, and it lifted you up into the trees."

  "Tell me about it!" she griped in her normal voice. "That goddamned thing was trying to go down my throat, but once it got a whiff of this"-she held up her wrist, showing her plastic repellent bracelet-"it gagged and dropped me. I must've fallen twenty feet!"

  Loren's brain ticked. He had no choice but to doubt what she claimed; it didn't jibe with the science. Those bracelets, as well as the bug repellent they'd been using, were only strong enough to discourage small insects with microscopic sensory pores that would easily be overloaded by the small traces of chlordane and diethylbased irritants. But a twenty- or thirty-foot worm? It would be like killing a wild boar with a mousetrap.

  Then again.. . bug spray killed the ova and smaller worms, he remembered. And as a matter of fact, I haven't been infected, and neither has Nora or Trentand we all used bug repellent and the bracelets.

  "Loren! Just when I was really starting to like you, and now you're really pissing me off! Would you stop being a chicken and come over here and help me!"

  He knew what Nora would do; she'd help her. Plus, if anything, Annabelle looked one hundred percent as healthy as she had earlier. The trickle of remnant attraction assailed him as well, even under these conditions. Any real man would feel the same thing. Her raw beauty lay before him, and she was in pain: the ultimate damsel in distress ...

  Loren put the gun away and went to her. "You said you broke your leg?"

  She ground her teeth. "I think so, when I fell out of the tree-my right leg. It hurts so much."

  Loren placed his hands on the warm leg, felt for signs of fracture. "I think you lucked out," he said, trying very hard not to steal a glance at her breasts. "There's no swelling, and I don't feel any bone fragments under the skin. You probably jolted the cartilage in the knee and hip, though, and that's going to hurt fora while. Let me help you up, see if you can walk."

  She groaned again, head arched back, as he got her to her feet.

  "Can you put any weight on your leg?"

  She clung to him with one arm, and gingerly stepped forward. "Yes-damn! It hurts, but I think I can walk."

  "Good. Let's take it slow."

  At least Loren had some direction now, but ... Jesus, I've got to move fast. Got to get Annabelle to the boat, then find Nora and Trent and get THEM to the boat. And then get out of here ... AFTER I get rid of this bomb in my pocket!

  They limped along down the trail. This was going to take a while. The bomb ticking away in his pocket only reminded him further of how little time he had to get everything done. And .. .

  How powerful IS this bomb? the worst dread kept forcing him to think. Loren didn't need that question distracting him, and a distraction he needed even less was Annabelle's warm, curvaceous body pressing right against him. One big breast kept rubbing his side, and every time he cast a tiny glance down ...

  Oh, man ...

  During one such glance, he could swear her nipples were erecting, which hardly made sense given the situation. Stop looking at her, you pervert! he yelled at himself.

  He didn't see the kudzu vine crooked out from the base of a palm tree. His foot hooked it, and-

  Flump!

  They both fell.

  "Shit! I'm sorry," Loren bumbled. "Are you all right?"

  Annabelle lay atop him, her luscious, hot weight pressing him down. He expected that the fall had hurt her leg, but she made no protest. Her face opposed his, strands of blond hair falling to either side of his neck. It looked like she was about to say something, but then her eyes bloomed ... and her lips lowered to his.

  The shock stiffened every muscle in Loren's body. He felt agog at what was happening. Her tongue traced his lips, delved into his mouth, then slipped down to his ear where she whispered, "I've been hot for you since the day we got here ..."

  More shock on Loren's part, and more stiffening, especially about the groin. I can't believe it, came the thought through so much hot fog. I'm finally making out with her ...

  At last he relaxed and slipped his arms around the small of her back. Her bare legs spread wider, her groin grinding down. Her breathing issued as a series of wanton pants and gasps. She raised herself on her hands then, and hitched herself up.

  To a guy like Loren, the mother lode had arrived.

  The two perfect orbs of her breasts were now level with his face. Then she positioned herself more precisely, and a swollen nipple began to brush across his lips.

  "Suck it," she whispered. "Hard. Real hard ..."

  The instant Loren obliged, Annabelle moaned.

  The way her bare hips were grinding down, Loren wouldn't last long. Her warm body encompassed him: She was a cocoon of his most erotic dreams. She traded her nipples back and forth, "Harder." And then one hand slid down, caged his crotch through the meager swim trunks, and squeezed.

  "Take these off and fuck me," came the next desperate whisper. "I can't stand it anymore. I've got to have you in me..."

  Just hearing her say that almost spent him. This would be tough. Even if he got that far, how long would he last?

  Only a few of his closest friends knew his secret: that he was indeed a virgin. He'd told Nora some contrary jive because-well, it seemed the right thing to do, not to mention that he had the hots for her, and not to mention that she was his boss.

  But ... this?

  No one would believe him, and he didn't care.

  Cringing, he was about to pull the gun out of his waistband and push his trunks down when the situation's true gravity slapped him in the face:

  Wait a minute! I've got an alien bomb I've got to get rid of, two people to find, and a boat to get on ...

  I don't have time to have sex!

  "Annabelle ... we can't do this now. There's some stuff you don't know ..."

  The wanton desperation on her face ... changed.

  Suddenly her face turned blank, like a sleepwalker's ...

  She sat upright, still straddling his groin. When he looked now, it seemed that her belly was swollen, and...

  Ooooooooooh no...

  Her skin seemed to be tinged with the faintest offyellow streaks overlain by tiny red spots ...

  "Get off me!" he shouted, shoving up at her.

  Very softly, she said, "I'm going to sit on your face and feed you my worms ..."

  Her fists were suddenly in his hair, holding him down. She kneed herself higher, trying to position her groin over his mouth....

  Loren almost fainted when he glimpsed several narrow wormheads peeking out of the folds of her sex.

  He tried to lever her off his body, couldn't, but found enough room to grab the pistol and swipe it upward.

  When the gun's blue-steel top strap clacked the back of her head, she fell over.

  Loren's heart was a squirming lump. He crawled away backward, stood up against a tree, and aimed-

  Several pink worms-pencil-thin and a foot longsquirmed farther out of Annabelle's sex. Her strangely pushed-out stomach seemed to be churning.

  She was getting up-

  Bam!

  He squeezed a shot off into her belly.

  Loren managed to not pass out when he witnessed the results of the shot.

  The bullet gave her a second navel. Upon impact, a half dozen foot-long worms darted from her vagina, along with a slew of crawling ova. More ova foamed out of the bullet hole.

  Then a ten-foot worm snaked out of her mouth, and began to sidewind very quickly toward Loren.

  Loren ran faster than he ever had, not at all sure that it would be faster than the worm.

  (VII)

  Slydes dragged the skinny dark-haired woman by the crotch of her one-piece swimsuit-a convenient handle. He wasn't quite sure why he didn't just kill her right there, but he supposed it was curiosity more than anything.

  She might know something.

  And Slydes definitely wanted to know what these worms were all about, and those little yellow things, and the shit that had happened to Jonas. The skinny woman might have a clue.

  It didn't take him long to get to the farthest head shack, where Jonas grew the bulk of his pot. He dropped the woman, made for the door, but stopped short.

  Shit, I gotta piss like a racehorse, it occurred to him.

  What didn't occur to him, however, was this: Why the sudden need to urinate when he was so severely dehydrated?

  Slydes immodestly opened his pants, then began to go ... or tried to. Jesus, he thought. His bladder felt bloated, but only a trickle popped out. I ain't got all day! He pushed, pushed harder, then-

  "Ahhh, there she goes."

  Suddenly Slydes was voiding his bladder like a floodgate just opened. A few seconds later, though, something struck him as ...

  Not right.

  Slydes looked down-and blanched.

  He expected to see a golden arc of urine. But urine wasn't what his bladder was voiding.

  It was an arc of BB-sized ova.

  Oh, my fuckin' shit!

  He couldn't very well stop now; he had to get them all out. Slydes pushed and pushed, thrusting his pelvis ludicrously forward. The clotted stream just kept pouring, and another thing: The more he urinated, the more discomfort he felt.

  It was supposed to be the other way around, wasn't it?

  He saw now that the ova shooting out of his urethra had gradually gone from the size of BBs to the size of peas. He was literally peeing a pile of ova.

  He felt even sicker when he looked at his penis.

  It was yellow. With red spots.

  "Oh, my fuckin' shit," he groaned.

  "Looks like you're infected in a big way," the skinny woman said. She was up on one elbow, watching the grotesque spectacle.

  "I ain't infected!" he bellowed. "And who the hell are you anyway? What do you know about this shit?"

  "A lot," she said. "My name's Nora Craig, Professor Nora Craig. I'm a marine biologist with the college. You've been infected with what appears to be a genetically hybridized parasite that's part trichinosis worm, part ribbon worm, and part pinworm."

  "I ain't infected!" he repeated. "It's-it's-it's ... just a few of 'em. Once I piss all of 'em out, I'll be okay."

  "You're dreaming, Paul Bunyon. Once you piss all of them out, you'll still have the worms. A lot of those little yellow things already hatched-in you."

  Finally, Slydes was done. One last ovum-the size of a gumball-squirmed out.

  His face looked understandably sick. He pulled up his shirt, looked with more nausea at his red-spotted beer belly.

  What am I gonna do now? he wondered.

  When the pile of ova began to move toward Nora, she withdrew a small can of something, and sprayed them.

  "What's that?" Slydes demanded.

  "Bug repellent. It kills the ova, and the younger worms."

  "Give it to me!"

  Nora laughed. "It's not going to do you any good, pal. You've got those things all through your body. By now they're insinuated throughout your major organ systems. And some of the ova have already released a virus that's going into your brain. It'll change your behavior too, it'll change your DNA, to make you a more adaptable host. You're a breeding ground for the worms, buddy."

  Slydes saw that the pile of yellow things had stopped moving. She ain't lying. It killed 'em. "Gimme that can, bitch! I'll drink it, and it'll kill any of 'em left."

  She laughed even more boisterously, holding up the can. "This is poison, asshole. It'll kill you in a few minutes. But you know? I'd rather die from poison than die from those things." She threw him the can. "So go ahead. Drink up."

  Slydes looked at the can. He wasn't much of a reader, but he could indeed read the words WARNING: POISON! and the universal skull and crossbones under it. Slydes swore and threw the can away. Three long strides took him over to Nora. He grabbed her hair and dragged her toward the head shack.

  Nora shrieked. Slydes liked that. Sassy, smart-ass bitch. If you think THAT hurts ... He'd cut on her good, but first ...

  He needed some water.

  That's the ticket. I'll be all right. I'll get me a good long drink of water, and that'll be that. This bitch is just tryin' to scare me. I'm sure I've done peed all them things out .. .

  Wishful thinking for a desperate man ... but a desperate man who was also a sociopath. "You're gonna be a of of fun, baby. I saw ya the other day-wanted to do a job on ya right then, lemme tell ya."

  "You're a busted redneck no-account loser," Nora said, and yelped louder when he twisted her hair some more. "You're a fucking walking worm farm and you're gonna die."

  "Keep talkin'. I'm a gator poacher. Did you know that?"

  She responded through grit teeth, "Sounds like the perfect job for a big redneck moron like you."

  Slydes whipped out his Buck knife. "But gator ain't the only thing I know how to skin." Then his big bearded face broadened in a grin. "I'll be nice'n slow, too. Might even pop ya a few times while I'm doin' it."

  But first, the water. He dug the key from his pocket, and unlocked the dead bolt.

  Even in her distress, Nora had to ask: "How do you have a key to that?"

  "Damn it!" another voice barked out.

  Slydes and Nora turned in startlement.

  Trent stood behind them, his face stamped with anger. "Let her go, Slydes."

  With a smirk, Slydes released Nora. "Lieutenant Trent!" she almost squealed in delight. "Thank God you're here!"

  But 'Dent glared at Slydes. "I told you to never come here without my permission! I told you I was escorting a photo shoot! I specifically instructed you to stay away until it was over!"

  "Jonas got more buyers," Slydes said, "and ran out. We needed to come out here to get more product. We'd planned to be in and out real quick but ... things didn't work out."

  "You're not kidding they didn't work out!" Trent yelled.

  Nora looked mystified. "You know this guy?" she asked Trent.

  "Yeah, I know him all right. The dumb son of a bitch is my brother, and so is Jonas. I gave them the key to these two head shacks."

  "What for?"

  Trent frowned. "For hydroponic marijuana. Jonas, my other brother, is a pot grower, and Slydes brings him back and forth in his boat. I've been letting them use these facilities for the past two years."

  Nora looked deflated by the information. "I've read all about it," she said. "Hydroponic pot is twice as potent, and has double the street value. The only problem is the need for constant electric light and fresh waterbut that's not a problem out here, is it?"