Minutes to Burn Page 45

  Her protective tegmina were a deep brown, attached to her body at the second link of her thorax and overlaying her light-green speckled underwings. Sprouting from the third section of her thorax, the under-wings stuck out a bit, forming green stripes along her sides.

  The mantid crawled back up the tree, past the branch to which her old cuticle still clung, past the other branches that spread like balconies from the core of the trunk, and when she reached the top of the canopy, where the foliage of all the Scalesias wove itself together, she pushed through and stood on top of it, her four back legs taking hold of the uppermost branches and leafy boughs.

  She was standing atop the forest.

  The water circling the island was visible all around, the sky stretching clear and blue for as far as the eye could see.

  Unfurling her wings from her sides like massive capes, she spread them wide. Their span was enormous, and as they dried, they would con-tinue to stretch and grow; only this benefit had driven her to brave the sun. Already, the new cuticle stiffened around her, a living suit of armor. Her body unfolded to the air, the mantid rested, growing stronger and harder in the sun.

  Soon, it would be nightfall.

  Chapter 72

  As Cameron finished setting the trip wire, a shriek echoed up the road. She wasn't sure whether it was the mantid or a wounded animal, but it sent a chill from the depths of her bowels all the way up her spine.

  Using herself as bait, Cameron would attract the mantid. The mantid would be drawn from the forest, heading for Cameron along the open stretch of the road. About a third of the way down, the mantid would trip the first wire. The det cord would explode, detonating the blasting caps and, in turn, the TNT. All the trees on the corresponding side would fall simultaneously. The explosion would either freeze the crea-ture or startle her forward. If she froze, she'd be crushed by the toppling trees, and if she started forward, she'd trip the second wire and the whole trap would go. The trees would fall from both sides, pounding the ground along a hundred-yard segment of the road.

  There would be gaps-that was certain, since the Abatis was gener-ally used as a roadblock, not a killing trap, but that was a risk Cameron would have to take. She was fairly confident that the trees falling at criss-crossing angles would crush anything beneath them. Once the wire was tripped, no matter which direction the mantid moved she didn't stand a good chance.

  The trap had a number of situation-specific advantages. Most impor-tant, it expanded the danger zone drastically; if the mantid moved any-where along the guessed route, she stood a good chance of getting killed or maimed. A compact little boar might find its way through an Abatis, but not the long, wiry mantid. If Cameron had elected to rig a smaller booby trap, she would have had to predict exactly where the mantid would step, and that had already proven difficult. The Abatis also had the advantage of drawing the prey into a known area, cutting down the variables one faced when dealing with a free-roaming adversary.

  Cameron walked the path she hoped the mantid would take, careful not to get too close to the forest at the northern end of the road. She saw the first thin trip wire gleaming in the sunlight and stopped, letting it rest across her stomach. Ducking under, she counted ten steps to the second trip wire, which she also cautiously avoided.

  The Abatis was ready.

  She strode down the road to the trail just beyond the watchtower. She still had time to wash off.

  The water reminded her of Justin. It always had. When he swam, his entire body moved with a grace usually reserved for porpoises and rays. For fear of revealing his hiding place to the creature, she had resisted the urge to go and check on him, though she wanted to desperately. As long as his heart rate stayed low, he shouldn't bleed out. And he was resting, maybe even sleeping, cool beneath the surface of the earth. He'd have to wait until after the Abatis was detonated.

  Cameron sank all the way beneath the surface, the water closing over her head with a gulp, and then she was drifting, alone and lifeless and free. The teal water was so clear that when she opened her eyes, it was as if she were looking through a mask. She rinsed herself off, wiping the virus-laden smudges from her clothes and skin.

  The sand on the bottom was brilliantly white, ribbed like desert dunes. Mini-cyclones swirled, the white grains glimmering as light swept through them. Ahead, a series of vesicular lava rocks unfolded like the vertebrae of a sunken creature.

  Just beyond them, Cameron saw an outline of something large, majestic. She swam toward it in awe, breaststroking underwater. It rip-pled into view, a magnificent and rare coral head, standing alone before the wall of the reef. As Cameron approached it, she saw that it curved around, encircling an underwater lagoon. The walls would keep growing upward, eventually forming an atoll.

  Small patches of the coral were bleached, destroyed by UV sunlight, but for the most part the underwater life had rejuvenated since the last El Nino. Within the ring was a fantasia of color and movement. Shiny green sea urchins dotted the white surface of the walls, flicking into view behind drifting strands of seaweed. A jewel moray shot from a dark hol-low, narrowly missing a darting minnow. A blue parrot fish grazed, its small mouth emitting bubbles as it nibbled along a notch of coral. A marine iguana tirelessly navigated the surface, its small legs churning, tail undulating.

  The water within the reef was tinted green from the minuscule bits of floating algae, but still it retained a near perfect clarity. Cameron watched a yellow damselfish chase the parrot fish off the coral wall, flicking its tail as it shot forward. The parrot fish swam away, though Cameron could see it for several yards before it disappeared from sight. Tri-umphantly, the damselfish banked in a fighter jet's wide turn before returning to the inner sanctum of the reef, its bright yellow tail and lip contrasting sharply with the sleek black of the rest of its body. With wonder, Cameron watched it slither through the water, her lungs beginning to burn.

  As Cameron started for the surface, the damselfish swerved sharply to avoid something rising from the depth of the ring. Startled from her reverie, Cameron waited to see what would emerge.

  Her arms flared in shock when she saw the distinctive green head, the rings of the abdominal segments. Rising like steam from a grate, the larva drifted into view, its back to Cameron. Moving its body side to side like a sea snake, the larva coasted forward, its shadow rippling along the bottom of the sand like a strange, dark organism. It broke the surface a few feet behind the marine iguana, which was still clumsily churning the waters. The larva's mouth opened wide, mandibles spreading. The iguana was gone and the larva dipped back below, mouth working. It slithered through the inner ring of the atoll, heading for the open waters beyond.

  Cameron kicked to the surface, pausing only to fill her lungs once, and then she swam toward the larva, taking long, fluid underwater strokes. Her hand went to the knife tucked into the band of her pants and slid it from its sheath. She moved without hesitation.

  The larva did not sense her approach. Its head rotated as it tracked a brilliant moorish idol swimming before it, and its gills rippled as they expelled water.

  Arcing her arm like a javelin thrower, Cameron guided the knife, releasing it gently so as not to upset its course. It sent silvery disks of light through the water as it coasted, seeming to vibrate as it caught the sun.

  It approached the unsuspecting larva from behind, nearing its head. As the larva's gills flickered wide, the blade disappeared through one of the slits, burying itself in the larva's head to the hilt. The larva jolted as if it had been shocked, bubbles steaming from its spiracles. A gorgeous cloud of hemolymph spread from the three gills like a blossoming rose, and Cameron tried not to think of the virus moving through the waters around her.

  The larva's mouth opened, the tip of the blade visible between its mandibles. Even underwater, Cameron could hear the screech emanating from its spiracles. The larva bent to face Cameron, too stunned to thrash about, though its prolegs squirmed in slow circles. The greenish liquid continued to pour from
the slits of its gills.

  Cameron's eyes narrowed as she closed in on the larva, her teeth clenching until she felt the grind deep in her head. She fisted the knife stock and turned for shore, the impaled larva turning with the blade. The larva snapped along her side as she kicked back to the beach, surfacing occasionally for air.

  She pulled herself from the water, the knife still embedded in the larva's gills. The larva's terminal segment skimmed along the surface of the waves as she sloshed to shore. The larva emitted squeals, still strong, though it had lost so much of its fluids. It bucked and kicked, bouncing along her side, its head twisted by the blade's intrusion. Cameron kept its body tilted so that the infected hemolymph would run off the body rather than down the knife onto her hand.

  Cameron headed up through the cliff and then along the trail that led to the road. She passed the watchtower and went directly to the speci-men freezer, dragging the larva as it shrieked and struggled. Yanking the door open, she ignored the fetid air, the puddles of ooze, the rotting corpses. Her boot struck Tank's head as she stepped forward, knocking over his bustlike remains. She angled her knife hand and the larva slid from the blade, thumping to the floor.

  She seized the empty hook dangling from the ceiling and impaled the larva on it, jerking the barbed end through the bottom of its chin until it curved from its mouth like a pointed tongue. Squealing emanated from its whole body.

  Gripping the end of the hook in a fist, Cameron raised it above her head like a fisherman, holding the shaking larva right before her. She viewed it neither with anger nor with the pleasure of vengeance; it was merely a tool to be used as she'd used Savage's knife and the TNT.

  The sun was low in the sky as Cameron stopped by base camp and scooped up the three flares, ramming them into her back pocket where they protruded like a rolled newspaper. Swinging the larva at her side, she started down the road, the trees rising on each side of her. Ahead, the howling watchtower continued its laments.

  The splintering wood of the ladder hurt her sore hands, but she pulled her body up, paying no attention to the larva as it dragged along beside her, shaking and squealing. The shed was a dark, gaping hole atop the watchtower, a screaming mouth. She swung the hook up into the shed first, using it to pull the rest of her body up. Impaled on the hook, the larva crashed against the floor, leaving a wet stain. The squealing grew even louder.

  As Cameron pulled herself onto her feet, the wind resonated within the shed, and she felt the sounds as vibrations in her bones.

  A ruler-thick strip of wood had come free from the plywood of the roof, and Cameron threaded it through the eyelet at the top of the hook.

  It wedged deep and firm, the larva swinging from the ceiling like a tor-tured chandelier when she let go.

  She yanked the flares from her back pocket, holding one in her mouth as she ripped the strikers from the other two. They fizzled with a bright-red glow. Cracking the top of the third flare, she lit it also, the red lights dancing in the walls of the shed.

  Her front pocket held the last inches of tape from the demo box, and she looped it around the flares as the larva dangled and squirmed behind her, trying to free itself from the hook. The hook had torn through the cuticle of its chin, stopping at the firm line of its jaw.

  Cameron tossed the flares to the floor beneath the larva and walked past it without so much as a look. She had to return to base, rinse her hands with canteen water, and see if she could squeeze a bit more anti-bacterial gel from the bottle. The sun had dipped to the horizon, casting an orange glow through the tops of the trees and turning the forest to a sea of waving flames.

  It was dusk, she noticed, as she started the climb down. The creature would soon appear.

  Chapter 73

  Fourteen of the water samples were clean. Only the three that had been taken from directly over the deep-sea core holes remained. They'd saved them for last, since they were the most likely to show traces of the virus. Polaroids of the DNA bands in the agar lay on the counter-top, including a control shot from the wild type sample that they knew to be normal.

  "All right," Diego said. "We'll each check one result."

  Ramoncito looked first, comparing the sample Polaroid to that of the control and checking for differences. There were none. "Clean," he said. Diego glanced over his shoulder, double-checking that the banding pat-terns of the sample and the control matched.

  Steeling himself, Rex took the control Polaroid from Ramoncito and raised the second sample photograph up beside it. He exhaled deeply. "Clean," he said.

  The final Polaroid sat in the middle of the counter, holding the key to Sangre de Dios's fate. Diego gazed longingly at the joint, snubbed out in a beaker. He picked up the photo and held it before his face, his eyes closed. He opened his eyes. Looked from one photo to the other. Slowly, he set them down, his cheeks trembling.

  "What?" Rex asked, trying to contain his panic.

  "Clean," Diego whispered. "Clean, clean, clean."

  He lowered his head to the countertop and they all stayed quiet for a few moments. "Well," Rex said. "That's step one. We still need to check in with Everett to see if the squad has taken care of the accountable virus reservoir."

  He pulled the transmitter from his pocket and placed it on his open palm, leaning toward it as he asked to be put through to Slammer Two at Detrick.

  Samantha's voice came through clearly. "Yes?"

  "It's clean," Rex said. "The water system is clean. Every last sample."

  There was a silence.

  "That's good news," Samantha said slowly. "But we've been unable to contact Cameron. Either her transmitter is down or she's… " She declined to finish the sentence.

  Rex noticed that she'd only mentioned Cameron. He closed his eyes, pushing away his concern, fighting to stay focused.

  "What does that mean?" Diego asked. "About the bombing?"

  "Without confirmation that the virus reservoir is exterminated, there's not much we can do," Samantha said. "Unfortunately. They're going to send a medevac at 2200 to look for survivors."

  "And the B1 departure is 2300?" Rex asked.

  "Yes."

  "You keep trying to contact them via transmitter," Rex said, "and we'll haul our asses to the airport for when the medic unit returns. With the soldiers, let's hope."

  By the time Rex had shoved the transmitter into his pocket, Diego was already out the door. Rex and Ramoncito ran after him through the Darwin Station and down the winding dirt road that led to Avenida Charles Darwin, having a difficult time keeping up. Rex was surprised to realize that it was already nightfall.

  When they reached the street, Diego was sitting in the driver's seat of a huge blue truck that was parked near the path to Hotel Galapagos, his hands working beneath the steering column. A pair of handcuffs dan-gled over the rearview mirror.

  "You run fast for a stoner," Rex said, panting.

  Diego jerked his head toward the passenger door. "Shut up and jump in," he said. He twisted two wires and the engine roared to life.

  Chapter 74

  Cameron sat patiently, legs folded Indian-style beneath her at the south end of the road, about twenty yards north of the watchtower. The wind whipped over her shoulder, blowing to the forest. She gazed up the road into the Scalesias, watching the trip wires blend into the air as the sun sank from view. The air tinted with shadow, turning dusty gray, then black, but still the mantid did not appear.

  The glow of the red flares in the shed became more pronounced as the light drained from the sky. Soon, the watchtower behind her was the only point of light in the dark landscape, a shining devil's eye. The squeals of the larva should have been horrifying to Cameron, yet she found them almost pleasing, riffs of a symphony she had composed. The watchtower's howls joined the larva's squeals, sometimes even over-powering them.

  Underlit with the red glow of the flares, the larva continued to strug-gle against the hook, its head cocked back at an excruciating angle, its figure shadowed on the shed's insid
e. Cameron hummed to herself, the tortured outline writhing behind her.

  She didn't understand what was delaying the mantid. The wriggling larva, in combination with the bright artificial light of the flares, surely should have drawn her attention by now.

  Cameron sat in the dead center of the road, completely unprotected. Whether the mantid was attracted to the larva or to Cameron, she'd be heading down the road toward the watchtower. Cameron would stand and wave her arms once the creature appeared by the edge of the forest, drawing her forward across the trip wires. The two minuscule wires would be all that stood between Cameron and certain death.

  Cameron was growing impatient, anxious about the mantid's delay. She stood, letting the wind carry her scent up the road to the dark leaves of the forest.

  The moon cast the road in a pale yellow glow. Cameron stared hard at the dark mass of the forest, as if she could will the creature to appear. She expected to see her at any moment, the wide insect head leering on the thin neck, the legs pulling her forward, graceful and ungainly at the same time.

  The howl of the wind rose to a pitch that for an instant drowned out the larva's piercing squeals. And then a shadow fell across the road.

  Cameron whirled around, trying to figure out how the dark night could have gotten darker, and then she saw her, stretched wide across the watchtower. The mantid clung to the walls around the shed's mouth with her legs, spread wide like a spider in a web.

  The mass of her body nearly filled the shed's entrance, blocking out most of the reddish light. Cameron stumbled back, surprised. It hadn't occurred to her that the mantid would circle around to the watchtower. For some reason, she had assumed that she would come directly down the length of the road.

  For an awful instant, Cameron thought that it was a different man-tid-a new creature that she had not yet encountered-but then she rec-ognized the shattered eye and the black stock of the spear. She realized why the mantid was so much larger; she had molted. She'd taken so long to appear because her new cuticle was hardening.