Authors: Edward Lee
"And it was the strangest thing-I mean, I think it
was a camera of some sort; it definitely had a lens. But
it was really small."
"A surveillance camera would be small," Annabelle
said.
Nora restrained most of a smirk. "Small as in tiny. It
was like a half inch long, sticking out of a tree, and
about as thin as a pencil. Just a stub."
"Might have been an old proximity sensor or motion
detector," Trent reckoned. "But it's long been discon-
nected.-Were there wires coming out of it?"
"No."
"Any indicator lights?"
"Nothing like that, either."
Trent didn't seem concerned. "Show it to me later,
okay? It's probably just one of those old-generation
electric eyes that would trip an alarm if someone
crossed it."
"I'm sure you're right," Nora said. It just gave me
this really uncomfortable feeling. Like when I looked
in it, someone was seeing me."
Trent smiled at her paranoia. "I guarantee you, whatever it is, it hasn't been hooked up in over twenty years."
Trent walked off toward the trail.
"Spy cameras in the woods, huh?" Annabelle leaned
over to adjust her flippers. "But you were the spy last
night."
"Pardon me?" Nora couldn't believe what the
woman had said.
"Oh, you know what I'm talking about, Nora. But
don't worry, I'm not mad." She smiled to herself. "I'm
not the inhibited type, being watched never bothers
me. But, honestly, I never figured you for a voyeur."
It was too early in the morning for this. "Hey, I was
just going for a walk in the woods. I had no idea you'd
be out there fucking."
"Don't get so upset," Annabelle chided. "Nature has
a way of taking its course, especially in an environment
like this." She stood back up, her posture accentuating
her bikini'd bosom and table-flat stomach. "I told you,
I wasn't mad."
Nora glared, a headache pecking at her. "I don't give
a flying shit if you are."
"I was just going to say"-the blonde maintained a
quiet, controlled tone-"that Lieutenant Trent's pretty
good, and I'm not a territorial person. So you can go
for it, too, if you want. I don't mind."
"You're outrageous!" Nora almost shrieked at her. "I
can't wait for you to go back to New Fucking York!"
Now Annabelle tinkered again with the big encased
camera.
"Professor Craig-profanity doesn't become you.
And you don't have to worry about being embarrassed
around Lieutenant Trent."
Nora winced so hard that creases seemed permanently
etched into her face. "Why would I be embarrassed?"
"I didn't tell him that you were spying on us last
night."
"I wasn't spying!" Nora flat-out yelled.
"Shh! Calm down. Loren's coming back. You don't
want him to hear, do you?"
Before Nora could yell further, Loren trudged back
up to them, seawater running off his body in rivulets.
He seemed frustrated. "Nora, I couldn't find that coolflow you were talking about."
Nora's teeth were grinding back and forth. "I'll be
out in a minute."
Annabelle lowered her dive mask over her face.
"Loren and I will find it, Professor. But you did a great
job finding that first worm. I'm really looking forward
to that lobster dinner you mentioned. Maybe later, you
can show Loren and me where they are." She absently
put a hand on Loren's arm. "We'll have a cookout tonight, it'll be fun!"
Then she and Loren walked back toward the water.
Nora fumed after them.
She didn't know what kind of game the photographer was playing. She looked around, wide-eyed in
rage. Have I EVER been this mad? She sat down in the
sand for a few minutes, trying to rein back in some
composure. They can find the fucking worms, she decided. I'm done for today. And ... the NERVE of that
phony bitch!
Asa breeze began to dry her skin, she tried to reflect
on herself. Is it me? There are lots of assholes in the world. I can't get this bent out of shape every time one
crosses my path. Maybe this was why she'd chosen an
academic-based career instead of something more socially connected.
And she knew she had to consider something else, too.
Deep down, in her most hidden subconscious fibers,
was she actually jealous of the more attractive woman?
Hell no, she decided. And what was she talking
about with Trent? Like now that she's "had" him first,
it's okay for me .. .
The notion just infuriated her more. Trent was a
dullard.
She took a few more minutes to shake it off. She was
sitting right in front of a vinyl beach bag ...
That's Annabelle's bag, she realized. It contained
towels, flip-flops, sunglasses, and the like. And right
next to it lay a tube of sunblock.
What was Nora thinking?
She looked to the water. Annabelle and Loren had
already gone under. So she picked up the tube of sunblock and without even much forethought, scooped a
hole in the sand, emptied the lotion into the hole, and
covered it. The tube read SPF 45.
Nora refilled it with her own SPF 2.
She looked up to the blazing sun and nearly giggled.
Now the bitch can go back to New York barbecued!
She felt like a juvenile delinquent pulling such a
prank, but she figured she deserved it. It had been the
comment regarding Trent that bothered her most, Like
he's her property that she's giving me PERMISSION to
use! Yeah, she thinks she's the queen of the hive, all
right. Like she's on some horse's ass reality show.
Annabelle Island. And Trent's one of her puppy dog
grunts.
Nora was discovering her very own Peyton Place.
She pulled off her flippers and mask, then lay back on her towel. The sand beat heat into her back. In spite
of the sour mood, she admitted, the water was
perfect-clear as gin and just a degree above cooland she did enjoy snorkeling. She was trying to motivate herself to do something-go back on the worm
hunt, catch some lobsters, anything. Or she could return to their makeshift examination lab and make some
more notes on the strange yellow ovum they'd found in
the shower stall. But a sudden fatigue hauled her
down. Not enough sleep last night, she realized, eyelids
drooping in the sun. She began to nod in and out, the
mildest surf-sounds rocking back and forth in her
ears...
When she roused herself, it seemed like she'd been
sleeping about fifteen minutes. Then she looked at her
watch.
"Oh, for God's sake!"
The sun had moved halfway across the sky. It was
past noon. Annabelle, lying belly-down on a towel,
turned her head to look at Nora. Loren knelt at her
side, slowly applying more suntan lotion on the photographer's back.
"Look who's awake," Annabelle said.
"Hey, Nora. You slept the morning away." Loren
looked over at her quite sheepishly, while his hands
tended Annabelle's back.
"Hope you don't mind me borrowing your associate,
Professor Craig. Loren, if you ever decide you don't
want to study worms anymore, you'll make a great
masseur."
Nora frowned, watching Loren spread more lotion
on Annabelle. Look at him. He's getting his jollies being her personal cabana boy. At least there was a tiny
satisfaction, though. She thinks he's using heavy sunscreen but it's really only SPF 2. She'll look like a fire
truck by the end of the day. The bitch.
Annabelle and Loren suddenly seemed to be squinting over.
"Nora, did you forget to put on sunblock?" Loren
asked.
Then Annabelle: "You're looking pretty pink, come
to think of it."
An alarm shrieked in Nora's brain. She'd been too
busy sabotaging Annabelle, she'd forgotten about herself. She looked with dread to her arms, then her legs,
and found herself pink as deli ham. Oh my God! How
could I have let this happen?
"I did," she finally admitted. "I forgot to use my
block." Then she held up the empty tube, disgusted
with her secret.
"You know better than that," Loren told her. "We're
marine zoologists, Nora. We're out in the sun ten times
more than other people. You've been lying out here for
three hours with no block? Of course you'll get
burned."
When Nora rubbed her face, even her cheeks hurt.
Now I'M the fire truck .. .
She had a feeling this wasn't going to be one of her
better days.
"Loren found a really big nest of the scarlet bristleworms, right in front of an underwater trench and the
most fascinating coral configurations," Annabelle informed her next. She spoke with her eyes closed as Loren
continued to massage her back. "I got great pictures!"
"Actually it was Nora who found the nest," he at
least had the presence of mind to say. "She told us
where it was. Thanks, Nora. You were right. We hit the
jackpot."
Who gives a shit? Nora glanced, embarrassed, at her
pink arms. "That's wonderful. So we can go now?"
"Oh no," Annabelle piped up. "We'll be here a few
more days at least. I need pictures of every aspect of the worm's life and its environment. The sun hits the
water perfectly at midafternoon. Loren and I need to
dive again tomorrow."
It didn't even anger Nora anymore: the way Annabelle excluded her from everything.
"I'm even going to have Loren in a few of the underwater pictures, so his name can go in the article, too."
The only reason I don't bury you, Nora replied in
thought, is because I'm too tired to dig the hole.
"And I got plenty more samples for us to catalog for
the college," Loren added, "plus some pretty interesting echinoderm fossils that look like they go back to
the Cambrian Period."
"The what period?" Annabelle asked.
"Cambrian," Nora answered with no interest.
"About sixty million years ago, when invertebrate life
was just beginning to soar."
Annabelle was careful not to acknowledge Nora at
all. "You also found some other weird things, didn't
you, Loren?"
"Couple of translucent megalodae, some multicolored Clitellatas, oh, and a sea potato."
"A sea potato?" the blonde asked, amused. "It's not
like a potato we eat, is it?"
Nora smiled. "Yeah, Annabelle. Loren will cook you
up some fries in a jiffy."
Loren intervened. "No, it's just called a sea potato.
It's actually a sediment-dwelling sea squirt."
- ---- - --- -- --- - - -
Annabelle looked right at Nora and silently mouthed,
Kiss my ass. Then she winked.
What gall! For each hour that passed, it occurred to
Nora that a conflict would erupt eventually. I guess I
shouldn't be getting in any catfights, she realized. The
bitch would probably beat me up.
Annabelle rose to her feet and did a long stretch,
giving Loren an eyeful. "Thanks for the back rub, Loren. You're a master. But after all that swimming, I
think I'll go take a nap." She glanced down to Nora
again. "You might want to put some sunblock on Professor Craig, though. She's turning as red as a fire
truck."
You would say fire truck. She even steals my analogies.
"Oh, and, Professor? What time will you be cooking
that lobster dinner you promised?"
About five minutes after I put my foot up your ass,
Nora thought. Instead she just said, "About seven, if
that doesn't cramp your sophisticated itinerary."
"Oh, don't worry, it doesn't. See you later!"
A lot later, I hope.
Annabelle traipsed off to the woods.
"What's with all this friction between you and
Annabelle?" Loren asked.
"She's just a bossy, arrogant, territorial bitch, that's
all. No friction. Women mark their turf, Loren, especially women with implants."
"Oh no, she's natural, she told me."
Nora smiled to herself.
"And there's no reason for the two of you to not get
along," he added, fishing in his bag for more sunblock.
"We're all in this together, you know."
"Not if you ask her. She treats me like I'm not here."
"You're imagining it. She's actually very nice. Emotionally unfolded, professionally dedicated, and intellectually diversified."
Nora leaned up, squinting outrage. "Loren! She's a
ditz with big tits! She's phonier than Al Capone's secret vault. She's a mover, Loren; she uses her body and
her sparkling eyes to manipulate men for her personal
benefit."
Loren almost got mad-something she'd never seen.
"That's harsh and judgmental, Nora. I'm surprised that an academician such as yourself would make such
a shallow invective. It almost sounds defensive, even
insecure."
Nora laughed. "She's got bigger boobs than me-big
deal. I'm not insecure about it. She's more attractive
than me, lots of women are, but you know what? I
don't care! I could shit care less and whistle Dixie at the
same time. But since you're not just my assistantyou're a good friend-I only feel it proper to warn you."
He seemed defiant now, lower lip trembling at the
challenge. "Warn me?"
"She's a textbook floozie who's wheeling for you.
Don't let her pull the wool over your eyes. Girls like
that eat guys up and spit them out like gum when
they're done with them. And she'll do it to you if you
let her."
Loren glared; now his lower lip was really trembling. "That hurts my feelings, Miss Perfect. I'm glad
you have such confidence in my acumen with the opposite sex." His head bowed, almost as if he were
about to sob.
Oh, jeez ... "Loren, I'm sorry, I only meant-"
His head jerked up in a grin and a loud clap of his
hands. "Had you going, moron! Jesus Christ, I know
she's a bogus, manipulating, saline-stuffed bitch. I'm
just playing Poor Little Infatuated Nerd-Boy so maybe
she'll feel sorry for me and give me a sympathy fuck.
Believe me, I ain't looking to hold hands in the fucking
park with that Paris Hilton wannabe."
Nora signed, relieved. "You're such a tool, Loren."
"Damn right, and a big, big tool at that-like a friggin' roll of cookie dough if you want to know the truth.
I'll hump her so hard she'll sound like someone stomping on a squeak-doll."