Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 46314 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46314 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
The moth babies are getting big. And I don’t mean in the way a puppy gets big over a few weeks. I mean these babies that could be handled by one person on the first night are at least twice that size now, and are visibly growing with every bit of the presumably limited rations they ingest. Their little cherubic faces are slightly less round and ruddy, and are starting to look freakishly mature. They don’t speak, but they do communicate in the most freaky high-pitched giggles and squeals.
“They’re really growing up,” I comment to Sally by way of trying to make conversation. She and I have not talked nearly as much as I would have thought we would. It feels like high school all over again when one of your friends gets a boyfriend and basically ceases to exist. Except she doesn’t have a boyfriend. She has a whole instant mutant family.
“Yes!” She beams proudly. “So big!”
One of the things we used to bond over was our mutual lack of family ties. I guess that’s no longer a thing. I guess she has her family now. And I guess I’m happy for her, even if I don’t fully understand the draw. She’s happy, and that’s all that matters.
As for me, I am at very much of a loose end, not knowing what to think. I am surrounded by genetically engineered mutants, but at the same time I find it almost impossible to believe that vampires and werewolves exist. It’s like, sure, narwhals are a thing, but unicorns? No.
There are absolutely no signs of any supernatural creatures coming for us. No signs of anything whatsoever as we all shelter in this broken vault. I’m sure something attacked the mutant home, but I’m starting to very much doubt that it was supernatural in origin. I don’t trust Stealth, for starters. His initial impulse was to explode his way into the vault. Is that the action of a true friend? No. And then there’s the fact that I’m being forcibly kept from communicating with my boss. It’s taking every bit of my goodwill to trust Order enough to believe he has true good intentions over that. And then there was the moth creature that stalked Brooklyn, murdering people left and right. What posthumous part does he have to play in this?
Sally sits down next to me with a cup of tea. Tea! There was a time she would have thrown a cup of tea at a wall for daring to not be coffee.
“Remember your place in New York?” I remind her. “The books everywhere?”
I try to start up a conversation based on our past experiences. We should be allies in this experience. We should be able to lean on one another, like we used to do. She’s the one who dragged me into this situation, technically. So she bears more than a little responsibility in it.
“I haven’t had time to read since the babies hatched,” she says in a tone that suggests it doesn’t bother her at all. You could even go so far as to say she’s a bit smug about it, if you were unkind.
She needs an intervention of some kind. I need to remind her who she is when she’s not tending to the needs of shrieky wriggling things. Even now, she’s not really listening to me. Her eyes are constantly darting between the two larvae writhing around on the floor, and the one she has managed to wrangle into her arms for affection.
“Maybe you could take some downtime now,” I suggest. “Read a book or just chill. I’ll watch the, er, babies.”
“Would you? Thank you so much!”
She thrusts the wriggling larvae at me and disappears into the bedroom where Justice is sleeping. I manage to keep a frozen smile on my face just long enough for her to leave my eye line before I carefully put the thing down on the ground and watch as it humps and squirms its way over to a pile of rations that have been placed on the kitchen floor in order for them to feed from freely.
The sound of the babies eating almost covers up the sound of sexy shenanigans taking place back in their bedroom. Sally’s gone and woken Justice up for some fresh loads, I guess. There’ll be more fresh mutant eggs before we know it. I can hardly wait. I wonder if I’m expected to buy some kind of laying present, or perhaps throw a hatchling shower. None of the usual rules apply here.
I am left alone with Obigor in an underground 1950’s kitchen dining room. Order and Stealth are up somewhere above, running patrols. I still think they’re hiding something. But what? If only there were two crack NYPD detectives here to discover the secrets of this place.
Another few days goes by. Ugh.