Loren said.
Trent and Annabelle leaned over now, to get a
closer look.
Whatever had been on the lieutenant's back was now
just a viscid splotch. What Nora had seen had been
about the size of a large-shelled peanut, but circular,
like a hazelnut. And yellow, like butter.
"Here's the skin of whatever it was." She pointed,
moving the flattened thing with the tip of her pen.
"And, look." Loren squinted, leaning closer. "It's yellow but has tiny red spots."
"Some kind of epidermal pigmentation," Nora said.
"Another vote for a slug, but ..." His thoughts
trailed off.
Nora chewed her lip. "I know. I'm not familiar with
any species of land slug that's yellow."
"Oh, yuck!" was Annabelle's next contribution.
"That big splat is its insides?"
"Yep." Nora was secretly pleased by the photographer's revulsion. "I'm not seeing anything that looks
like the remnants of an organ system."
"Jesus," Trent said. "It looks like someone hocked a
loogie on my shirt, that's what it looks like."
Then Loren brought a hand to his brow. "Oh, shit, I
know what it is! It's a spumarius, Nora. Right after
molting."
"A what?" Annabelle looked to him.
"An insect called a froghopper," Nora said. She was a
little agitated with herself for not thinking of that first.
"The larval form of something in the cicada order."
"They're the same size and the same color," Loren
said.
Nora handed Trent back his soiled shirt. "Good job,
Loren. The mystery is solved. An immature froghopper."
"Are they poisonous?" Trent asked warily.
"They're-absolutely harmless."
"Not if you're a shirt," Loren said of the mess.
"Christ, this shirt's blown," Trent said.
"I'm sure Uncle Sam will spring for a new one."
"Are you kidding? We have uniform rations in the
army. Can you beat that for cheap?" And then Trent
walked off, presumably for a clean shirt.
Nora rolled her eyes when she noticed Annabelle's
hand on Loren's shoulder as she talked. "Wow, you really know your stuff, Loren. Of all the things it
could've been, you identified it in a minute."
"Aw, it was nothing," he chuckled.
Make me puke, Nora thought. Look at her cozying
up to him...
Eventually, Annabelle walked off again with her
camera. "See you guys later, for dinner," she said.
Which I hope you choke on, Nora thought.
"Well, so much for the big excitement of the day," Loren said. "A friggin' froghopper. Shit, I almost wish
it was something interesting, like a rhino beetle or a
black widow."
But Nora had already turned toward the woods. "Do
you ... smell that?"
"Smell what?"
"Something in the air ...
"You mean the pot that Trent just burned?"
"No, no." She felt sure. "The breeze is blowing
south, and this is coming from the north." It seemed
vague but very familiar. "I can swear I smell something
cooking. Like hot dogs or hamburgers."
Loren sniffed the air, then shrugged. "Beats me. I
don't smell anything."
Must be my imagination, Nora concluded.
CHAPTER Four
(I)
Leona flipped the burgers on the grill; at least, she
guessed she was doing it right. She pulled another
Zima from the cooler, then looked into the woods.
Where are those assholes?
The burgers sizzled, their aroma eddying into the
trees. Leona wasn't much of a cook. How long per
side? she wondered. This weekend party had sounded
like a great idea ...
Damn them!
Leona did a good job hiding her insecurities, but the
truth was she couldn't stand to be alone. At once she
felt foolish, dressed only in flip-flops and her cutoffs.
I'm cooking burgers topless and I'm by myself! What
happened to the party? Her thoughts trailed back to
Alan. Sure, he was cute, popular, and seemed very connected to her, but she'd always had the tiniest suspicion that his true interest was Carol.
My best friend, Leona reminded herself.
All was fair in love and war, she knew, but she also
knew Carol, especially after a couple of drinks .. .
Alan's probably bofng her right now. Hell, Howie's
probably in on it too.
Trent and Annabelle leaned over now, to get a
closer look.
Whatever had been on the lieutenant's back was now
just a viscid splotch. What Nora had seen had been
about the size of a large-shelled peanut, but circular,
like a hazelnut. And yellow, like butter.
"Here's the skin of whatever it was." She pointed,
moving the flattened thing with the tip of her pen.
"And, look." Loren squinted, leaning closer. "It's yellow but has tiny red spots."
"Some kind of epidermal pigmentation," Nora said.
"Another vote for a slug, but ..." His thoughts
trailed off.
Nora chewed her lip. "I know. I'm not familiar with
any species of land slug that's yellow."
"Oh, yuck!" was Annabelle's next contribution.
"That big splat is its insides?"
"Yep." Nora was secretly pleased by the photographer's revulsion. "I'm not seeing anything that looks
like the remnants of an organ system."
"Jesus," Trent said. "It looks like someone hocked a
loogie on my shirt, that's what it looks like."
Then Loren brought a hand to his brow. "Oh, shit, I
know what it is! It's a spumarius, Nora. Right after
molting."
"A what?" Annabelle looked to him.
"An insect called a froghopper," Nora said. She was a
little agitated with herself for not thinking of that first.
"The larval form of something in the cicada order."
"They're the same size and the same color," Loren
said.
Nora handed Trent back his soiled shirt. "Good job,
Loren. The mystery is solved. An immature froghopper."
"Are they poisonous?" Trent asked warily.
"They're-absolutely harmless."
"Not if you're a shirt," Loren said of the mess.
"Christ, this shirt's blown," Trent said.
"I'm sure Uncle Sam will spring for a new one."
"Are you kidding? We have uniform rations in the
army. Can you beat that for cheap?" And then Trent
walked off, presumably for a clean shirt.
Nora rolled her eyes when she noticed Annabelle's
hand on Loren's shoulder as she talked. "Wow, you really know your stuff, Loren. Of all the things it
could've been, you identified it in a minute."
"Aw, it was nothing," he chuckled.
Make me puke, Nora thought. Look at her cozying
up to him...
Eventually, Annabelle walked off again with her
camera. "See you guys later, for dinner," she said.
Which I hope you choke on, Nora thought.
"Well, so much for the big excitement of the day," Loren said. "A friggin' froghopper. Shit, I almost wish
it was something interesting, like a rhino beetle or a
black widow."
But Nora had already turned toward the woods. "Do
you ... smell that?"
"Smell what?"
"Something in the air ...
"You mean the pot that Trent just burned?"
"No, no." She felt sure. "The breeze is blowing
south, and this is coming from the north." It seemed
vague but very familiar. "I can swear I smell something
cooking. Like hot dogs or hamburgers."
Loren sniffed the air, then shrugged. "Beats me. I
don't smell anything."
Must be my imagination, Nora concluded.
CHAPTER Four
(I)
Leona flipped the burgers on the grill; at least, she
guessed she was doing it right. She pulled another
Zima from the cooler, then looked into the woods.
Where are those assholes?
The burgers sizzled, their aroma eddying into the
trees. Leona wasn't much of a cook. How long per
side? she wondered. This weekend party had sounded
like a great idea ...
Damn them!
Leona did a good job hiding her insecurities, but the
truth was she couldn't stand to be alone. At once she
felt foolish, dressed only in flip-flops and her cutoffs.
I'm cooking burgers topless and I'm by myself! What
happened to the party? Her thoughts trailed back to
Alan. Sure, he was cute, popular, and seemed very connected to her, but she'd always had the tiniest suspicion that his true interest was Carol.
My best friend, Leona reminded herself.
All was fair in love and war, she knew, but she also
knew Carol, especially after a couple of drinks .. .
Alan's probably bofng her right now. Hell, Howie's
probably in on it too.
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