Minutes To Burn Part 32

"Yes," Cameron said, feeling oddly unnerved by his patronizing grin. "I do."

Szabla tapped the spike twice in the palm of her hand, where it left a streak of dirt. "We can't f.u.c.k around with those things metamorphosing. If you see Mitch.e.l.l and he won't cooperate, you're cleared to use reason-able force." She caught Cameron's eye across the fire pit. "I'm sorry."

"It won't come to that," Cameron said. "If anything, he'll hide. Pro-tect the larva. Even though he's gone off the deep end, he won't want to start fighting us. He'll just disappear."

Savage played with his knife, digging something out of the sole of his boot with the tip. "It's a small island," he said.

"If Derek decided to hide in an elevator, it would take you weeks to find him," Cameron said. "He's a world-cla.s.s soldier."

Savage squinted in the sunlight. "Doesn't seem to be playing the part on this little cruise."

Rex turned to Diego. "We should collect a few more water samples from the coast, hope they're all normal under the microscope." He looked at Cameron with concern. "A microscope a.n.a.lysis is probably not going to be sufficient for the final reckoning, but for now, it'll have to do."

"The rest of us'll go into the forest," Cameron said. "Szabla, Savage and I'll carry the flares. We only have three, so don't burn 'em unless you mean it. Justin, you and Szabla are the only intact team at this point, so you should recon together and I'll go with Tank and Savage."

"I'd rather you, Justin, and Tank teamed off," Szabla said.

"I don't think-"

"Didn't realize you were the OIC here," Szabla said.

Cameron bit her lip, debating whether it was worth getting into right now. "You're right," she finally said. "I'm not."

"Okay," Szabla said. "I pair with Savage."

"I'm sure you do," Justin muttered.

"What the f.u.c.k does that mean?"

"What the f.u.c.k do you think it means, Szabla? Keep your d.i.c.k hol-stered."

Szabla lunged for Justin, but Cameron caught her around the waist and threw her back. Savage seized Cameron's arm, and she grabbed his wrist, stepping back with his momentum and yanking him off balance. As he stumbled forward, she locked his arm by snapping the heel of her other hand to the back of his elbow. She drove him down onto his knees, then his chest, pressuring the elbow so it was almost hyperextended.

Savage grunted, his cheek against the ground, a swirl of dirt kicking up with his breath. Cameron kept the pressure on to prevent him from reaching for his knife.

Cameron stepped across Savage's arm, twisting it and holding it firmly between her legs as she faced the others. Though her hair was hooked behind her ear, it curved forward, forming a point just under the side of her mouth. Szabla started forward but froze when Cameron tightened her hold on Savage's arm.

"We are not pulling this Lord of the Flies bulls.h.i.+t," Cameron said. "Because it's stupid, because it doesn't make sense, but most of all because we don't have the f.u.c.kin' time." She twisted Savage's arm with each phrase, and he strained even harder not to yell, the veins on his neck standing out like fingers. "Are we all clear?"

The wind sucked across the shed atop the watchtower and it moaned softly in the distance. Tank was up on his toes, arms tensed.

"We ousted Derek, but that does not mean there are no rules now," she continued. "As former AOIC, Szabla is acting senior officer and we will fall into line under her." They all nodded. Cameron looked down at Savage, as if just remembering him, and released his arm. She pulled him up to his feet. Rotating his arm painfully, he grimaced.

"Nice move," he said, not insincerely.

CHAPTER 56.

--------------------- erek carried the larva pressed to his chest, and when he got tired, he bore it on his shoulders, looping it across so he could piggyback it. At first, it seemed uncomfortable being carried-he could feel its seg-ments squirming and readjusting around his neck-but soon it calmed, adjusting to the rough ride.

He stopped once so that the larva could feed, and it did so energeti-cally, working its way through a newly fallen branch in minutes. Sitting on the hot forest ground, he watched it, amazed by the unrelenting action of its mandibles. When it had finished, he leaned over to kiss its forehead but changed his mind. Pulling himself to his feet, he dusted his hands on his cammies, picked up the larva, and continued up the forested slope.

There was no plan, at least none he could think of. Keeping the larva safe was his only intention. He'd figure something out before the sched-uled extraction tomorrow night; he just had to keep the larva secure until then. They'd want to take it back, study it-that much he knew.

All the ambiguities of his life took shape in a single goal: preserving the life of this creature. If he did that, maybe he could take back the rest of it. Maybe he could take back what he'd discovered that night. The Night Of.

The forest was even more dim than he had remembered. When he looked up at the sky, the rain started, as if on cue. And then it was ham-mering down, the leaves and twigs dancing with its descent. He took his bearings, gauging how far he had moved into the forest and up the vol-cano's wooded slope. He was close to the middle of the Scalesia zone. He could rest here and regain his energy.

A fat cedrela had snapped in the earthquake, the sharp shaft of the stump sticking up in the air. The trunk had fallen to the side, where it lay in a smashed heap of branches. The fallen tree was still attached to the stump by a hinge of bark and pulp, creating a small triangular area of shelter.

Derek left the larva beside the tree and gathered branches and broad leaves, which he wove loosely together to s.h.i.+eld the shelter from both sides. He finished building the little hut and worked a splinter out of his palm. Pinching it until it stuck out from the bead of blood, he removed it with his front teeth, then spit it out. He turned to the larva and stepped back in surprise.

It lay beside the sh.e.l.l of its old cuticle, its sides barely expanding and contracting as it drew breath. It appeared to be exhausted.

He turned his mind away from the darkness he felt encroaching, from the dangerous reality he sensed but refused to admit. Picking up the larva, he moved it into the small shelter, curling up behind it. The heat made the larva uncomfortable, so it squirmed away from him but rested its head near his. He pulled the sheet of branches and leaves down across the front of the shelter and lay back, losing himself in the sticky webbing of his thoughts.

Voices pulled him from his delirium. He recognized Szabla's, coming from no more than fifteen feet, and he peered through a gap in the leaves and saw Savage's face, his eyes sunk in shadows. Even though they were close, he could not make out what they were saying.

As always, Savage was carrying his blade. He said something to Szabla, his voice a murmuring hum, then headed directly for the shelter. Derek froze, one hand hovering protectively above the larva's head. He prayed it wouldn't stir.

Savage thunked his boot down on the stump, inches from Derek, and a.s.sessed the terrain. Rainwater ran down the rubber surface of his boot, dripping onto Derek's cheek. Derek could practically feel the heat com-ing off Savage's body. He moved not a muscle.

Savage sheathed his knife, patting it on the side for good measure, and walked back to Szabla. They disappeared into the underbrush, their crackling footsteps fading away.

Derek exhaled. Though he hadn't realized it, he'd been holding his breath for nearly a minute. The larva s.h.i.+fted with the sound, seeking his body, as if for rea.s.surance. It nuzzled into the hollow of his neck, and a flash of fear ran through him, but its mandibles remained retracted.

The ground rumbled suddenly, fiercely, and the tree rocked overhead. For a moment, Derek was worried that the tree would slide from the stump and crush them, but it held strong. He laid a hand protectively over the larva as the earth shook around them, then stilled. Aside from its abdominal segments bunching slightly, the larva did not move.

Lying on his back, Derek looked at the brief wisps of sky he could make out through the network of branches around him, the rain-heavy air, and the dark columns of the trees.

The forest suddenly seemed quite peaceful.

Dexterously, Savage moved ahead of Szabla in the rain. From time to time, she could make out the flash of his skin between the tree trunks. He rarely wore a s.h.i.+rt in the forest, but for some reason, the mosquitoes left him alone.

He called out to the larvae, "Hey little guys, you want some candy?" and then he'd laugh his forty-grit laugh.

All of a sudden, he was gone. Szabla scanned the area in front of her but could make nothing out in the dim light. She called his name once, her voice trembling ever so slightly, then reached across and fondled the ball of her biceps and felt her courage steel.

She stepped off the small trail they had been moving along and was immediately swallowed by the foliage. She circled around the area she had last seen Savage, holding the spike up above her head so that it wouldn't rustle through the branches.

"Quiet," she heard him grumble before he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into the foliage, slapping a hand across her mouth. They sank to the forest floor until they were lying side by side, hidden beneath ferns. Savage eyed her for a moment, then removed his hand. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the right. "Something there," he whispered.

He kept his hand near Szabla's mouth, ready to cover it again if she spoke. She was silent, though, and they lay staring into the darkness. After a few minutes, a branch nearby exploded with motion. Szabla tensed until she realized it was only a bird; the large-billed flycatcher shot through the canopy, its sulfur-yellow belly the single spot of color in the gray air.

Szabla let out her breath in a rush and looked at Savage. The mud he had smeared across his cheeks and chest for camouflage had hardened, cracking like a pie crust. It was darker around his mouth; he looked like a predator after feasting on a kill.

He kept the grin on his face, a white floating crescent that reminded her of the Ches.h.i.+re cat's, and she suddenly became aware of how close they were. One of her arms was pinned beneath his shoulder, her hand resting in the dirty tangle of his hair. He smelled of sweat and mud, and his body pressed against hers was the hardest she had ever felt, though he was over fifty years old. His muscles weren't inordinately large, but they were tight, hard like stones.

She turned her head slightly to face him full on, her cheek brus.h.i.+ng against his beard. She held his eyes for a moment, her heart still pound-ing from the scare. Staring into his eyes was like looking into a black hole; they were bottomless, empty, tinged with gray. Szabla felt she was peering through the surface ice of a frozen lake, peering into death itself.

Her unease was clear as they separated and stood.

Savage cleared his throat, bringing up a plug of phlegm he spit out on a jet of air. It splatted against a frond and dripped to the ground. He stared at her, seeming to read her mind.

"You go places sometimes," he said, his voice soft, gravelly, and, if she wasn't mistaken, gentle, "you can't get back from." He looked up at the living ceiling above them. "I went into the jungle when I was eight-een, and I stepped out of life. I don't...I don't have a choice anymore."

Leaning back against the slimy bark of the tree, he watched a cl.u.s.ter of insects flutter around a branch overhead. Szabla looked everywhere but his eyes, then started back along the trail.

After a moment, he followed.

It was one of the longest days Cameron could recall.

Since the larvae needed shade of some sort, she, Tank, and Justin skipped the spa.r.s.e coastal zone. They swept the rim of the arid zone near the lagoon where Cameron had located the first larva, before heading north and making their way through the transition zone above the volcanic rift. Finally, they cut into the forest proper, cresting Cerro Verde around noon, steering clear of the caldera itself by circ.u.mvent-ing it from the safety of the surrounding trees. At one point, a vantage opened, and Cameron caught a clear glimpse of the active caldera through the tree trunks-a long, flat plain of lava set off with the occa-sional jumble of rocks and dipping out of sight in the middle. Myriad fissures split the dark rock, through which the glow of hot magma emanated. Steam rose in wisps, curling into elongated apparitions before dissipating.

They paused reverently before continuing down the steep eastern side of the Scalesia zone. They combed the terrain in huge swaths, beat-ing the underbrush and waiting for the small creatures to crawl forth so they could beat them to death.

Tank carried the bolt from the specimen freezer, and Cameron and Justin each held a spike. If they didn't start picking the larvae off soon, their situation would get worse. They still had thirty-four hours to extraction, and thirty-four hours could be a long time stuck on a tiny island with master predators on the loose.

They walked on in silence, taking in the trees and the short, darting movements of birds. Cameron's arms were whipped and raw from plant stalks and twigs. Her left shoulder had a large abrasion she might have gotten sc.r.a.ping against the rough bark of a tree, but she couldn't remember for sure. In fact, she couldn't recall the source of most of the aches and pains that shot through her body with each step.

At one point, she could have sworn she sensed Derek close to them in the forest, but when she listened, she heard nothing except the whisper of leaves against one another. She tried reaching him on his transmitter a few times, but it was still deactivated.

They circled up to take a rest, snacking from their MREs. No one stood guard. Cameron rested in a crouch, eating vegetarian tortellini out of the pouch. The rain had stopped, though the air was still gray and heavy. After ten minutes of sitting, Tank was still breathing heavily. Justin said something softly to him that Cameron could not quite make out, but she guessed he asked about Tank's injuries, because Tank shook his head and stood up quickly, pretending not to wince.

They started to leave, but Cameron stopped herself, went back to their rest spot, and cleaned up the plastic wrappers from the MREs, shoving them into her bag.

For four more hours, they painstakingly canva.s.sed the forest, peering into bushes and caves, through the gnarled hollows of trees, and within cl.u.s.ters of boulders. At one point, Tank stopped, snapping his fingers sharply, and they all froze.

There was a slight sc.r.a.ping, like nails against bark, and they peered around nervously. Tank raised the freezer bolt behind his head, the k.n.o.b dwarfed by his large fingers. Cameron and Justin moved slowly for cover behind a tree trunk, and Tank was left alone in the clearing. He took a hesitant first step back but stopped when the sc.r.a.ping came again. A cl.u.s.ter of ferns to his right split open, and a shadow charged out at him. As he stumbled back, swinging the bolt and missing, Cameron realized it was a feral dog, its spotted coat stretched tightly across its ribs. She felt the breeze from the dog's movement as it flashed off into the foliage. In an instant, even the sound of its running had vanished.

Tank swayed a bit on his feet, still clutching the bolt. Justin started laughing with relief, but no one joined him. He stopped.

They arrived back at base camp, defeated and exhausted, praying that Szabla and Savage had had more success. They ducked into Tank's tent to get out of the glaring sun, and Tank collapsed on his back on the ground. Cameron could tell he was really hurting, though she was prob-ably the last person in the world he'd admit that to. "You sure you're all right?" she asked.

"Fine."

"Well, you know what usually makes me feel better after a long day of unsuccessful larva hunting?" Justin asked, glancing over to see if he'd made Cameron smile. "A good hot shower and a back ma.s.sage. But since I can't have either of those, I think I'll go take a dump."

Even Tank laughed a little as Justin disappeared through the flap.

"Good kid," Tank said. He shook his head, leaving sweat stains on his pad. He ran his fingers across his tender forehead, drawing away peels of skin. He looked at Cameron sheepishly. "Forgot sunblock," he said.

Cameron cringed. She unscrewed the cap from her canteen and took a healthy gulp of water. She'd need to get to the ocean soon to rinse off the grime. It clung to her like another layer of clothing.

Above the barrel of Tank's chest, the strong curve of his chin was bristled with whiskers. Cameron had always liked being in Tank's large, serene presence-maybe it was the constant current of unspoken affec-tion he sent her way. She felt the need to say something to him, some-thing personal, but she didn't know what, so she was quiet.

Justin's voice from outside broke the silence. "Hey you guys! Check this out. Quick!"

They scrambled out of the tent and found Justin furiously b.u.t.toning up his pants. He started for the forest, gesturing them to follow. They pa.s.sed through some recently cleared pasture, and soon the Scalesias were all around them. About fifteen yards in, he slowed, bending aside a leafy bush so that Cameron and Tank could see.

A larva, smaller than the others, with a light, almost yellow-green cuti-cle, had slid itself up a tree trunk, its prolegs grasping the moist bark. It worked its head back and forth, expelling a white sticky substance that looked like silk onto the trunk. It attached itself to the silk bedding and bent its head down to its bottom segment. It was weaving a coc.o.o.n around itself.

Cameron stepped forward, moving around Justin. "Incredible," she murmured.

They watched its graceful, repet.i.tive movements with fascination. It had ensconced its lower half in silk when they heard approaching foot-steps behind them. Cameron turned as Szabla appeared in the foliage, Savage trailing her by a few steps.

"I was wondering where you-" Szabla froze, staring at the larva. Without hesitation, she crossed to it and kicked it from the tree, sending a scattering of moisture through the air. It squirmed on the ground awk-wardly, its lower body still encased in silk. Savage stepped forward and raised a foot to the tree trunk, resting an arm across his knee.

Reaching over without even looking, Szabla grabbed Savage's knife from his ankle sheath. She reached the larva in four strides and drove the blade into the top of its head. A gurgling noise issued from its gills. It flipped and twisted, arching like a Halloween cat, its true legs splayed out in front of it like wooden pegs. Green hemolymph bubbled from the slit. It shuddered twice through its entire body, contracted slowly into a ball, and stilled.

Szabla glared at Tank, Justin, and Cameron, running the knife across her thigh and back again. Cameron almost retched at the smudge it left on her cammies, full of virus. She felt Savage's eyes on her, reading her. "That's my tough little soldier," he said, his voice amused and disdainful all at once.

Szabla tossed the knife back to Savage, who caught it expertly by the handle. She picked up the larva, careful to keep her hands clear of the hemolymph. "What's wrong, Cam?" she snarled. "Forgot Floreana's lit-tle Sigourney Weaver trick already?"

She headed back in the direction of camp, knocking Cameron's shoulder hard as she pa.s.sed her.

CHAPTER 57.

--------------------- oths floated on the outskirts of blossomed plants, fortuitously brus.h.i.+ng against stamens and flower cups with their pollen-dusted proboscises. They scattered from Derek's footsteps as if in flight from a predator, zooming in paired figure eights. The larva felt leaden in Derek's arms, and it had grown more sluggish. It lazed across his strain-ing forearms, head and posterior end dangling.

Eyes alert, back hunched, treading rotting fronds and beetle sh.e.l.ls underfoot, Derek paused only to lap tears of rain from moist orchid blossoms. He found a brilliant white bud br.i.m.m.i.n.g with water and gen-tly plucked it from the bush. Raising the larva's head with a guiding touch beneath its chin, he placed the half-opened flower into its mouth.

Its mouth pulsed, sawing into the flower and moving it quickly down its throat. When it was done, it squirmed over itself, segments rotating, to look into his face.

Derek felt himself fill with something larger than himself, stirrings in the empty s.p.a.ces of his heart. The vibration of his transmitter broke him from his thoughts. He'd reactivated his transmitter about twenty minutes ago, though he wasn't certain he wanted to speak to anyone yet. He thought for a few moments, then set the larva down, cleared his throat, and tilted his head to his shoulder. "Mitch.e.l.l. Private. Obvi-ously."

The line hummed with silence.

"What?" he asked.

He realized he was surrounded by a tight ring of trees, and he began clearing the s.p.a.ce within them of rocks and leaves, preparing a lay-up point. The exhaustion of the past week had overtaken him all at once, it seemed. Though he'd dozed a little last night, his head was still light with fatigue. He'd need to get some real sleep soon.

Cameron's voice filled the air around him, and he found its familiarity among the dirt and stones and trees soothing. "Derek," she said. "Cameron."

He took a moment to center himself, then spoke, impressed with the evenness of his voice. "Let me guess. You're huddled in my tent, proba-bly sitting on my Therm-a-Rest with the rest of my squad around you try-ing to see what you can squeeze out of me."

The gra.s.s was heavy with dew at the edge of the forest. Cameron stood in a tall patch that reached nearly to her knees, looking out at the ball of the sun. About fifty yards behind her, the others mustered in the shade of their tents, eating MREs. The fire had consumed most of the larva's body, leaving behind only a darkened husk.