Chapter 13 Mrs. Smith #2
Despite her rage, she did not return to her ruined home.
She could not risk being wounded again. Until she ate her fill of Pure Ones and began a new life cycle, a harpoon could pierce her tender scales and puncture her heart.
Without her claws, she couldn’t free herself from their fishing nets.
She couldn’t fight back if they dragged her onto the beach and stabbed her with spears or pointed sticks.
Worse still, they might douse her in whale oil and set her ablaze.
For the first time in her existence, the humans had gotten the upper hand. Mrs. Smith had been forced to swim away until she
was strong enough to face them again. She’d hidden under ice, hunting seals and whale calves. In the cold, dark waters, she’d
found solace. She went into semi-hibernation, drifting among the ghost-white creatures of the Arctic deep.
She didn’t know how long this lasted. She ate and swam, ate and swam, until her pursuit of a killer whale brought her close
to the surface. Close to the wooden hull of a boat. A boat with nets and a heavy metal anchor.
At the sight of those nets, her anger flamed.
She was herself again. She was scales and claws, teeth and hunger.
The time had now come to seek out humans again. Not only would she feed on them, but she would mate with one of them, too.
Mrs. Smith could rejuvenate her aging body by consuming Pure Ones. She could also wake her dormant reproductive system by
mating with several human males. Their competing sperm would stimulate an atavistic need in her to perpetuate her species.
She shared more genetic material with her prey than she cared to admit, but it was these commonalities that allowed her to
mimic their appearance for periods of time.
Like certain starfish species, Mrs. Smith was an asexual animal.
Her kind procreated through binary fission and reproduction.
Unlike the starfish, which sacrificed one of several arms to create a new being, Mrs. Smith had to tear herself in two.
While her offspring would survive the ordeal, there was a chance she wouldn’t.
She’d come close to reproducing once before, but her own self-preservation had kept her from completing the act.
Now she had no choice. The humans were multiplying at an alarming rate. She had to bear an offspring. And she had to survive
the process. If she succeeded, there would be two creatures to collapse oil rigs and sink tankers. Two beasts to puncture
the hulls of submarines and trawlers. Together, they would pull thousands of humans down into the dark. The sharks would feed
until their bellies were bloated. Until the ocean floor was littered with teeth and bones.
Mrs. Smith was repulsed by the idea of sex with a human, but she would do it. Once they’d given her what she needed, she’d
swim to an underwater cave along the Maine coast and undergo the agony of binary fission.
She’d chosen this cave after her long period of hiding and healing.
Abandoning the ice floes and frigid water of the Arctic, she’d traveled south in search of fishing coves. She’d been stunned
by the number of boats populating the harbors and inlets. There were nets and traps everywhere. The shores were dotted with
buildings. Humans crawled over the land like ants. They’d built machines. They’d tamed the wilderness with steel and guns
and fire. While she’d been in a stupor, they’d claimed dominion over the world.
The Mother of Eels had been relegated to the shadows.
However, the shadows in the bay adjacent to Cold Harbor were not deep or dark enough to conceal her for long. She had just devoured two humans, and their absence would not go unnoticed. Mrs. Smith needed to escape. To do so, she had to rely on her children.
The eels swarmed, swimming above her as she traveled east past Huntington Bay. She headed toward the shores of a vast nature
preserve where the water was studded with sharp rocks. Boats kept a wide birth of the area, which made it the perfect place
for Mrs. Smith to digest her food without being discovered.
The flesh of the Pure One burned in her belly like a star. She wanted more. Many, many more.
But for now, one was all she needed.
Soon, she could transform into a human woman.
She would join humans at their dinners and cocktail parties. She would eat their sugary foods and sip their bitter drinks
and smile while they talked about their dull jobs and pathetic dreams. She would listen with genuine pleasure when they spoke
about their children, imagining how she would savor the flesh of their Johns and Janes with the same relish they exhibited
when masticating a chunk of raw, bloody steak.
Elaine K. Bernstein had already told her where and when these children would gather in a large, delicious group. All Mrs.
Smith had to do was secure an invitation, and she would have all the Pure Ones she needed.
She would arrive at the party as a beautiful human woman, but she would leave in her true form. She would shed her human skin
and swim away as the Mother of Eels.
And her belly would be full.