Down the Drain
by Cate Gallivan
Part 1 appears in this issue.
conclusion
After dinner, she went back. It was still at the bottom of the bowl, its tendrils and antennae spread out. Its eyes were open looking up through the water at her. She used forceps to lift it out and place it on her bug mat. It took up the whole thing, with its back legs hanging over the edges. She sat before it in silence. After a few moments, she let out a breath. Yes, it was dead.
Next came measurements and field notes. Goat eyes, a line of fur along its spine, the left front leg ended in an unusual formation. Almost like an opposable thumb. This was the strangest insect she had ever seen, and this was in the field, not the 20th generation of a species purposefully developed in a lab. The biotech guys wouldn’t even have to cook up some fake-o modifications; this was the real deal. Tomorrow she’d use the lab instruments to record weight and dimensions, then take precise digital photos for her journal article. Jelissa might even give her a few minutes at the plenary, a sort of “new discoveries in our lab” spotlight. Get her name out there.
* * *
In the morning, it was gone. A faint outline with a sticky film covering the board was all that remained. She covered it loosely with newspaper and brought it in. If it matched any of the insect profiles in the database, she could still propose it for the exhibit.
The meeting was almost over before her chance came.
“OK, so we know what we’re doing: two days to build a mock lab for whatever subject I dream up today,” Jelissa said to a titter of admiration. “Eaton can handle lighting. Questions? Suggestions?”
“Um, I have something, Jelissa,” Derya worked to keep her voice steady.
“Sure, um, Derya?”
She nodded and unwrapped the cardboard. “This came out of my tub drain last night. I have all my field notes. It was pretty unusual. Might make a good subject for the final display.”
“But where is it?” Jelissa asked. Everyone was getting restless, ready for the meeting to be over. Derya heard a few snorts of impatience.
“It disintegrated overnight, but I can still research—”
Now they were sighing.
Alan stood up, and in his best mansplaining voice, pointed to the board. “I’m not an entomologist, but even I know that you’ve made a CSI-type profile of a Rhode Island keppi. Unusual on the national stage, but I can’t imagine Adrian would really want to promote a local drain infestation.” Someone clapped in agreement.
“It was only the one, and it was really distinctive-looking.” Derya tried to assert herself in the rising tide of ridicule. She looked at Jelissa, and saw a serious, calculating look flash across her face before being replaced with a condescending smile.
“Alright, alright, everyone. Laugh all you want, but at least Derya is thinking outside the museum. Let’s get to it, but keep your mind open to fresh ideas.”
* * *
After another morning of painting blue skies, she took out the cardboard. The surface hadn’t dried at all. Sticky with that fetid, peppery reek.
“Wow, the damsel is branching out!” Eaton appeared as he always did, jumping out of thin air, with a wake of stale garlic. “Now you’re on local crawlies?”
“Huh? What do you mean?” Derya wanted to hide the board but remembered the stickiness at the last moment.
“Smells like a Rhode Island keppi. A trio was in my attic last year. I had to call this outfit in Connecticut. They used tasers, no kidding. Zapped them and scraped them off the floorboards. They missed one, though.”
“So it was dead?”
“Hell, yeah. I tried airing out the attic: windows open, fan running, but you could still smell it last winter.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice. If Eaton knew what it was just from the outline, it really wasn’t special enough for the conference.
On the bus ride home, she started to feel bad. Knowing that it was just a Rhode Island keppi, whatever that was, she didn’t have to kill it. Well, she hadn’t meant to, it just fell in the water and she didn’t rescue it, right? Eaton had a “trio” infestation. So that meant they lived in families. Maybe there was some keppi wife waiting for her murdered husband to come back home.
She flipped the bathroom switch and her eyes went to the tub. Tendrils. She blinked a few times. Yes, it was back. Well, a different one. One she could capture and bring to the conference.
This time, she assembled everything before she began. Rolled out a towel on the bathroom floor and lined up the screwdriver, flashlight, forceps, large plastic specimen bin with lid. She felt calmer, this was more like a lab back in school. There was an order to operations, deliberate steps to take: unscrew the drain lid, coax the specimen out, use forceps, drop in bin, put lid on. Maybe find out what they eat and push a few morsels through an air hole. No need to freak out, no jerky movements, slow and steady.
It must have been waiting. At the last rotation of the screw, it burst up like an eruption. She was startled enough to drop the screwdriver, but kept a grip on the forceps. It perched on the rim of the tub like the last one. And stared with those goat eyes. She was less squeamish this time. Looking for the right moment, with the bin by her foot.
She leaned over with the forceps as it crouched down. Then it launched, blurring through the air, slapping to a stop on her arm. Long tendrils wound around. It lifted its head, bared its teeth and drove them into her flesh. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. There was a faint sucking sound as its lips formed a seal against her skin. The dagger-like teeth grazing her ulna as it started humping her wrist.
The forceps clattered to the floor. Her heart thumped and she took a ragged breath, forcing herself not to swing out and flatten it. Calm down, calm down, she said to herself.
She grabbed the forceps to pry the thing’s head up but couldn’t get the right angle. Next, she tried to grab its torso and wrench it off, but the seal was too strong. She was going to have to use her hand.
There was a disgusting slurping sound as the seal was broken. Long, thick strings of green saliva hung from its mouth to the open wound. The teeth were like a snake’s, with the tip of the left broken off. She shuddered, dropped the thing into a specimen bin and clapped the lid down. It scrabbled against the smooth inner walls, glaring.
By morning, it was gone.
* * *
Derya sat at her bench after lunch, researching how to capture a live keppi, but the database had nothing. She rubbed at her arm. She had washed it and doused it with antiseptic, of course, but there had been no sign of the tooth, no lump or anything like that. The skin felt vaguely sunburned.
“Whoa, what did you have for lunch,” Eaton was at her side. “The whole place smells like it.”
“Hi,” Derya answered, deflated.
“Oh, hey, c’mon.” He was looking over her shoulder at her screen. “Still bummed about the keppies? Have you spotted all three?”
“Just two. I really need the last one.”
“I can give you the name of my exterminator, but I’m sure they’re not set up for that. They zap and go; no soft pillows or bowls of keppi food with these guys.”
“But I’ve already captured two and they... disintegrated.” Guilt twinged her stomach at the thought of the first one. “Just one more for Alan to glue some wings on or something.”
“I have an idea, but it’s a little out there.”
“Anything, Eaton. This is my only chance to be treated like a real entomologist.”
“Okay, okay, we should have all the right stuff here. Wait for me at the bus stop after work.”
There was definitely a smell when she opened her front door.
“Ahh, yup, there it is,” Eaton said, lugging in a massive carton of supplies. “I’ll start sealing the windows.” He rolled out a strand of duct tape.
“What’s that going to do?”
“Essentially, we’re turning your studio apartment — cute place, by the way — into a bell jar. I’ll be stationed in the hallway, manning the foot pump. You keep pouring BugOff,” he pointed to the canister poking out of the carton, “into a bowl while I draw the oxygen out. We should reach critical transference in an hour. Stay here to simply grab your keppi.”
“But how am I going to breathe?”
“What? Oh, right, ha, I forgot! Here.” He clomped a massive rig onto her shoulders, causing her to take a step. “The tanks will cover you until it gets here. I’ll be right outside, holler if you need anything!”
The mask gave off a faint garlic odor. She poured the BugOff and then teetered around, trying not to jostle the scuba gear. Muffled sounds from the hallway wove through her inhalations and exhalations. She checked the open maw of the drain. Nothing.
An hour passed. She poured out more BugOff and did another round. It was there, crouched on the rim of the tub. Waiting.
She overcompensated for the weight of the tanks and swatted with more force than necessary, batting it into the tile wall. It slid to the floor, stunned. The specimen bin was open and ready, but her stomach was burning. Derya bent down, lifted the keppi with one hand while lowering the mask with the other and bit it in half. Its viscous innards dripped down her chin as she chewed. The front claw with the opposable thumb would have to do. She ripped it from the remaining carapace, pulling it free like a Thanksgiving wishbone. She swallowed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
In the living room, the walls were pulsing and a tie dye ribbon undulated by the ceiling. She’d have to tell Eaton to ease up on the pump.
* * *
“Derya? Derya? Can you hear me?”She was somewhere else. Her back pressed against rough wood.
“Try to open your eyes. C’mon, Derya.”
A gull called out nearby.
She blinked a few times. The light was very bright.
“Prop the umbrella up, direct sunlight’s not good at this stage.”
She opened her eyes again. Moved her mouth, but no sound came.
“There, that’s it, Eaton. You can go.”
“Yes, Jelissa.”
The sound of waves smacking wood underneath her head. She was on the employee pier.
“Don’t stuggle, it only makes it worse. Your body’s finishing the larval stage now. Alan has given you an emergence accelerator for tonight.”
Her eyes went wide.
“The transformation will finish just in time. We’ll pull you up from the water in the morning. The whole display will be all about you. Just think, you’ll be our star, the new queen. Giving it her all when it comes to field work.”
There was a rolling sensation, and then falling. The waves grabbed her hungrily. She looked up through the surface at the distorted outline of Jelissa standing with her arms folded, watching.
Derya reached out and wrapped around a wooden post. A burning pulsed out from her stomach. She liked the sensation; it made her feel regal almost. She thought of Beckett and Adrian. She would make them do her bidding. Yes, she was going to get on the map.
Morning couldn’t come fast enough.
Copyright © 2024 by Cate Gallivan
