Zoea. How did he know they were
zoea? The babies emerged from their eggs under the biofilter and delicately
pushed through, clinging to its surface. They clustered around his abdomen,
thousands of them, spreading up across his chest. He didn’t try to reach for
them with his hands anymore. Surely they would start to devour his body.
Hopefully the biofilter would fail and he would drown before they really
feasted on his flesh.
When he closed his eyes, he
dreamed he was one of them. Tiny, translucent, intelligent. He heard their
song, the music of their clicking pincers, the swish of their carapaces against
each other. He heard the song of the river, the flow of the water, the crackle
of other living things, the bumps and straining groans of the flyer slowly being
crushed into the sediment under the rock.
When he woke, they were already
larger. Some climbed up his chest and onto his face, probing through the
biofilter against his mouth, his tongue, his cheeks, his eyes. One of us.
Jake felt the thought in his head
like a whisper in his ear. He knew it should have freaked him out, but his
whole body relaxed. Yes, he
thought.
The zoea kept probing. Why stay here?
Body broken. Arm. Spine.
Body whole. Strong. Carry us.
Jake lifted his head and leaned
against the harness. He hadn’t even looked at his arm or legs in a long time.
Where the blood had covered his destroyed arm under the biofilter, he now saw
through it clearly. His skin was white and whole. He wiggled his fingers, then
squeezed his hand. Flexing his hand open and closed, Jake felt the first flare
of hope.
Arm whole, he agreed. He felt a surge of happiness. Their
happiness. Thanks, he added.
Confusion. He shook his head. One thing at a time.
His spine had clearly been damaged.
He’d been unable to move or feel his hips or legs. Now he leaned forward
against the limits of the harness and peered down to his feet. He wiggled his
toes. Felt them push against his flight suit boots. Lifted his right foot up at
the ankle, then his left. The crabs – what had they done? They’d healed his
broken body somehow. Perhaps a fair tradeoff for using him as some sort of
incubator, especially since the zoea had yet to eat him…
To be continued?
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Dogs in house:
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Houdini, Brindle
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Time writing:
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Too long!
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March word
count:
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7,121
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