The Diagnosis
Dave’s eyebrows shot up. “You stepped on it? In the kitchen?” “Yeah,” Mark said, confused. “I crushed it. Took care of it. Why?” Dave shook his head slowly. “You didn’t take care of it, son. You helped it. That’s the oldest mistake in the book. If that was a female carrying eggs—and based on what I’m seeing here, it was—you likely spread the eggs across the floor.”
Mark felt his stomach drop. “Wait, seriously? That’s a real thing? I thought that was an urban legend.” “It’s biology,” Dave said grimly. “When the pressure hits, the egg sac can rupture and shoot the eggs out. The mother dies, the babies live. And now, those babies are having babies. You tracked them around. You gave them a head start.”