Minutes To Burn Part 42

When the babies flashed through her mind again, she greeted them, refusing to flinch from the image. She stared at them shrieking and whining until she felt nothing, just a numb tingling across her face.

A part of her had died. She could feel it hanging, loose weight around her heart.

Even though Cameron remembered right where the mantid was, it took her a few moments to distinguish her from the trees. The creature came slowly into view-the angled head, the greenish-tan good eye, the smashed hull of the other. Cameron stared at the mouth that was always slightly open, a collection of protruding parts, and felt the closest thing to pure enmity she had ever felt-not a hatred fueled by emotion, but a cold, dispa.s.sionate antipathy.

She rose to her feet and walked to her discarded MRE envelope, dig-ging out the coffee package. Ripping the top open, she poured the grounds into her mouth and chewed, taking a sip from the canteen when they started to gum up. She opened two more MREs and ate the coffee grounds from them as well.

By the time she finished, the thin skin over her temple was pulsing with her heartbeat. She was badly burned across her shoulders and cheeks, and the insides of her ears were so sun-raw they throbbed even in the absence of touch. Through the soreness, she tested her muscles one by one. They still worked, all of them, without enough pain to debil-itate her, though her thighs were pretty badly ripped up from her slide down the trunk.

She laced her fingers together and brought the backs of her hands across her forehead, pushing until her knuckles cracked. Ducking, she practiced two hard jabs and a right, grunting with the movement. She pulled her shoulders forward, flexing them, then settled them back. They were broad, as powerful as they'd ever been.

The creature met her glare from the forest.

Cameron was wide awake, so alert her leg was hammering up and down at the knee. Right now, she felt as if she could take the mantid with her bare hands and a blade, as Savage had before. Her eyes halted on the fallen balsa tree near the road. It was propped up off the ground by the boulder on which it had landed. The force of the ma.s.sive trunk smash-ing down had been enough to send a crack through the rock.

It had been there all along, right in front of them. The earthquake had practically shown them how to do it, how to take care of the creature.

Cameron charged over to the explosives crates. She threw open a lid and saw the dull red tissue paper of the TNT wrap staring back at her. She picked up one of the two-pound blocks, turning it over before her eyes. The three blocks from the air vesicle were outside near the fire pit, taped together and not yet detonated.

The Death Wind protruded from the top of a log like an arrow, glinting in the sunlight. Slowly, she walked over and pulled it out, holding it up for a moment to see her wavering, silver reflection. She sheathed it, ramming it into the back of her pants again like a gun. With the sheath pressed against her skin and the sorrow in her heart turning to a leaden frost, she understood a part of Savage now that she had not before. She felt hard, ruthless. The mantel had been pa.s.sed.

She pulled Tucker's kit bag from his tent, digging through it and toss-ing his clothing and supplies over her shoulder as she searched for the manual she needed. She couldn't find it.

The mantid watched her work.

The other manuals were flapping along the gra.s.s and Cameron ran them down frantically, fearful she had overlooked the one she needed. She stepped on one just before it blew across the field, and when she glanced down at it, her face lightened with relief. In large stenciled letters across the front cover, it said: Tactical Demolitions Training Manual.

Cameron ran her finger down the table of contents, flipping to the page labeled Abatis. A rough sketch showed two rows of trees felled in a crisscross pattern, blasted but still clinging to their stumps.

The wind picked up, howling through the watchtower.

She was ready to get down to business.

CHAPTER 71.

--------------------- Cameron had five hours until dark and a lot of work to get done.

As she unwound the tape from the TNT blocks she'd retrieved from the hole, she prayed that the other larva had died somehow or that it would not emerge from metamorphosis until tomorrow. She stood a chance, however small, of surviving until 2200 with only one mantid on the island, but with two, there was no way she'd make it.

And two could mate.

Cameron had rigged an Abatis tree trap only once, in Iran in '03, but between her memory and the demo manual, she'd be fine. She retrieved the previously rigged TNT blocks from where she'd set them beside the fire pit and threw them in one of the explosives crates. The crates left furrows in the gra.s.s as she dragged them across the field toward the road, ignoring the pain spreading through her body like a fever.

The mantid watched her with interest, then pulled back into the for-est, disappearing. As Cameron struggled with the heavy crates, the man-tid appeared at regular intervals, craning her neck out from different spots in the foliage along the forest's edge. She wouldn't dare come down here in the heat, not now with the sun near its peak.

Cameron would have to hurry to get all the trees wired before dusk. She still carried the scent of the body from the freezer, carried it on the bottom of her pants and in the hardened smear on the back of her tank top. After she finished setting the Abatis, she'd have to wash all the virus-laden secretions off herself.

She finally reached the middle of the road and dropped the end of the cruise box. It thunked to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Carrying the blocks of TNT two at a time, she laid them beside some of the balsas lining the road. She selected ten of the taller trees on each side, including the slender quinine toward the middle of the row, s.p.a.cing them out so that they were roughly five yards apart. Diego would approve of the fact that she was only blasting introduced species, she realized with mild amus.e.m.e.nt.

Despite her aching arms and back, she went to work immediately on the twenty trees she'd chosen, aware all the time of the creature leering at her from the cover of the forest at the road's end. Whenever Cameron looked up, it took her several minutes to actually see the creature, but she could sense her immediately and instinctively.

If she used too much TNT on a tree, she was liable to blow it straight off the stump, and she'd have much less control over which direction it fell. If the charge was too small, then the tree might not go over at all, in which case she'd be a sitting duck. In the manual, she'd found the conversion chart that calculated the size of the charge to use. The trees she'd chosen were old and st.u.r.dy, with diameters that she estimated at three feet; according to the equation, she'd need roughly twenty-four pounds of TNT per tree.

She fit the TNT blocks with nonelectric blasting caps, smearing the puttylike booster around their bases. Technically, TNT didn't require booster, but she used it on each charge anyway. She wasn't going to f.u.c.k around and have something not blow at the last minute.

There were no tools to make bore holes in the trees, but the blocks of TNT could be easily fastened to the trunks and used as untamped con-centrated external charges. The manual, she recalled, had said to set the charges five feet above the ground to ensure the trees would remain attached to the stumps when they fell. But Cameron wanted them low to the ground all the way across, so she primed the timber at three and a half feet, notching the bark with the peen of the hammer Szabla had brought back from one of the farmhouses.

The work was hard and tiresome, and it took her even longer because she kept glancing nervously at the forest. Now, the creature was nowhere in sight.

Using the thick tape that was stored in the underside of the explosives box lid, she adhered the TNT blocks to the trees-two rows of six blocks for each trunk. The tape stood out in shiny bands. She used one strand of det cord, with small extensions, for the charges on each side of the road, carefully crimping the aluminum ends of the blasting caps around it. It looked pretty when she was done; Tucker would've been proud.

The TNT would blow out a chunk of tree beneath it when it deto-nated. Because of the placement of the blocks, the trees of each side would fall parallel at a forty-five-degree angle to the road, crashing down on the dirt in the middle. Cameron would have to set two trip wires so that one side would detonate before the other, or the trees would deflect each other on the way down. She dug through the explosives box for eyelets, then started to run wire off the spool. She decided to set the trip wires about ten yards apart, each of them four feet off the ground so that the mantid wouldn't unwittingly step over them.

The sun had already peaked and begun its descent. Cameron checked the watch face and saw that it was already three o'clock. Only three hours remained until dusk.

The air was already starting to cool across her shoulders.

Diego placed the dino DNA segments from the seventeen water sam-ples into separate wells of the ethidium-bromide-soaked agar and plugged in the gel box, a voltage machine that would draw the negatively charged DNA downward. The DNA's progress through the viscous agar would form distinct banding patterns visible under UV light, which he and Rex could compare to the control dinoflagellates' banding pattern to determine if the samples were infected.

Rex drummed his fingers on the countertop, checking his watch. "How long will this take?" he asked.

Diego settled back on the high metal stool, fished for a joint in his shirt pocket, and lit it. Ramoncito watched him, shaking his head.

"An hour," Diego said.

Rex tapped the gel box. "Can't we speed it up?" he asked. "It's only at one hundred fifty volts."

Diego shook his head; his chest expanded with a toke. Smoke wafted from his mouth when he spoke. "It'll melt the gel. f.u.c.k up the resolu-tion."

He pointed to Rex's knee, which was vibrating up and down in a nerv-ous tick, then held out the joint. Rex stared at the joint, at Diego.

"There's nothing more we can do now," Diego said.

Rex reached out and took the joint.

The mantid's legs moved her back into the forest, the cuticle sc.r.a.ping loosely around her body as she walked.

She crawled up the trunk of a tree and secured herself upside down, her slightest movements causing her to swing. Dangling like a bat, she began to push through her old exoskeleton. It split first along the seam of the thorax, and she wriggled her head and raptorial legs from the gash, squirming. The spear stock was deeply embedded in her head; the old cuticle had disintegrated around it. Her abdomen remained encased in the old cuticle and she flailed back and forth, screeching, until it popped free. Then, she hung from the exuvia for the better part of an hour, which gave her new cuticle a chance to begin hardening. When she finally dropped to the ground, she landed in a heap, her new cuticle still moist and tender. She rose quickly; the dirt could crumple up her new wings and dry out her exoskeleton. Her anomalous post-metamorphosis molt was complete.

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 ma.s.sive 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.

--------------------- s 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 b.o.o.by 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, b.r.e.a.s.t.stroking 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 begin-ning 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 emanat-ing 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 sh.o.r.e. 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 pa.s.sed 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.

--------------------- ourteen 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.