Gregg Hurwitz - Minutes to Burn

Ramoncito laughed. "Did you just spell 'fuck'?"

"Huh? I don't…yes, I suppose I did. How do you…?"

"Maybe I listen to your lessons better than you think."

Diego held the pen against his full lips, leaning back on the couch. Accustomed to his moods, Ramoncito watched him, waiting for him to return from his thoughts.

Before the Initial Event, Floreana, like most of the other islands in the archipelago, had a few inhabitants. As it became clear that the after-shocks would be intense and unremitting, more and more settlers had elected to move to the mainland rather than try their lot on volcanic islands caught over a hot spot near the intersection of three tectonic plates. For the most part, the exoduses had been panicked, ill-advised ventures. A few spots would open up on a fishing boat, or an oil tanker would pass nearby, and families would pack the belongings of a lifetime in a frenzied twenty minutes and crowd expectantly onto docks and into pangas. Parents kissing children goodbye, husbands embracing wives. And when families were fortunate enough to find space together, their houses and farms were left as they were-kettles on stoves, doors banging in the breeze, goats and pigs nosing their way out of pens.

If the Menendez family had left a herd of pigs behind on Floreana, given the absence of indigenous predators, the population growth would be astounding. A dozen or so feral animals could quickly grow to hundreds. The island of Santiago was already a lost cause-over 100,000 feral goats had turned it into a virtual wasteland; having exhausted the native vegetation, the goats had outlived their food sources and were dropping of starvation in tremendous numbers. Diego had sailed past the island en route to a survey on Pinta last month, and the stench from the goat carcasses reached him almost a kilometer offshore. He was determined not to let Floreana meet a similar fate.

Since arriving in Galapagos to conduct research for his masterado, Diego had developed an intense, almost obsessive commitment to the islands. They embodied the very essence of life, of selection and design. Each island to Diego was a wonder of ecological balance, a monument to the ability of species to persist, endure, adapt, and even thrive. The fragility of the islands was so extreme as to be frightening; an island's entire ecology could be irreversibly altered by the arrival of a single ant, or one wasp hitchhiking in a bait bucket on the deck of a boat. The examples were endless: six wild dogs had attacked a colony of Isabela land iguanas in June, leaving over four hundred bodies to rot; black rats that had stolen rides to the islands in the bellies of ships had quickly out-competed endemic rice rats, causing their extinction on four islands; qui-nine trees cut reddish swathes into Scalesia forests on the Santa Cruz highlands; lantana camara shrubs metastasized through the nesting areas of the dark-rumpled petrel on Floreana, choking the birds there out of existence. Changes borne of carelessness, of expediency, of shortsight-edness. To oppose them, Diego had his scientific training, an extensive background in ecology, herpetology, and the eradication of introduced species. He had the rapidly diminishing staff and resources of the Dar-win Station. He had determination, stubbornness, an uncompromising commitment to the life of the islands. And he had one carton of. 22s.

Diego flicked the joint on the floor and rose, grabbing the ammo.

Ramoncito regarded Diego suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

Diego unearthed a rifle from beneath a pane of crumbled Sheetrock and rested it against his shoulder. "Looks like I just added animal control officer to my list of jobs." He wedged the carton of bullets into his pocket and headed out. When he slammed the door behind him, it left the hinges and continued right into his office.

The creature drew herself to her full nine feet, rearing up on her hind legs. Pigmented a leafy green and dappled with dusty brown high-lights, she picked up the hues of the Scalesia forest, blending with the crisscross shadows of the branches.

She was segmented into three major parts: a head with antennae, a thorax, and a long, full abdomen heavy with eggs. Her brown forewings, the tegmina, were leathery, covering and protecting her delicate under-wings.

The creature was for the most part slender. Her abdomen and wings, which made up most of the length of her body, ran parallel to the ground. When she raised her head, her thorax swooped upward from her abdomen like the torso of a centaur, giving her a remarkably human erectness and orientation. Her abdomen, normally the breadth of two oil drums, was swollen even wider with her eggs, striking a con-trast with her lean muscular thorax and four spindly rear limbs. A series of holes ran along her abdomen on each side, spiracles through which she drew air.

Her enormous raptorial forelegs protruded from the top of her tho-rax, just beneath her head, and they were usually held close to her body. The insides of these legs were furnished with sharp spines, those on the femurs angled in the opposite direction from those on the tibias so that they'd snap shut on prey like a bear trap. At the end of both tibiae were two curved hooks that served to rake her prey to her.

Rotating her head nearly 180 degrees to face behind her, she tried to detect something in the rustling bushes. She twisted her thorax and it bent easily, pivoting her jagged front legs. Her head was shaped like an inverted triangle, with her eyes forming the top corners and her mouth the apex. Two long, thin antennae protruded from her head between her eyes like wayward wisps of hair. She cocked her head to one side, her antennae straightening to pick up odors and subtle vibrations in the air.

A male hesitantly emerged, following her through the thick brush. Because of her compound eyes, the female could see several directions at once, but she focused on the male's approach, watching him like a mosaic in the many facets of her eyes.

Significantly smaller than the female, the male regarded her warily, his large eyes protruding like bulbous growths from the top of his obcor-date head. One of his hind legs was slightly smaller than the others, having regenerated after being lost in a molt. His antennae bobbed as his sharp mouthparts quivered with curiosity.

He fixed the female in a gaze, but she broke eye contact and moved slowly away, weighed down with her unfertilized eggs. In a gait that was at once halting and graceful, the male stalked her, drawn by the sexual pheromone she excreted from two shiny protuberances near the tip of her abdomen. Occasionally, she turned her head on her elongated neck, taking note of his progress.

After about an hour of this strange and delicate ritual, the male spread his wings and curled his abdomen to attract her attention, but she turned and kept moving away. He pursued her again, launching into an even more rigorous sequence of abdomen movements. His folded wings rubbed against his cuticle, the hard exoskeleton, producing a high-frequency courtship song.

She slowed. Gathering his courage, the male approached her, drawing near as if to smell her before fading back. Extending her forelegs, the female responded with a few pumps of her abdomen. The male watched her against the backdrop of the trees, cutting back and forth before her with terse motions. She spread her raptorial legs in front of her, as if offering an embrace. He took a few tentative steps forward and she stroked his front legs. Finally, in a quick burst, he mounted her.

His legs were a flurry of movement around her as he bent the end of his abdomen in a sinuous motion to explore her genital area. He lowered his head, distracting her by rattling her antennae with his own. Twisting his abdomen to one side, he joined the tips of their bodies and began to copulate. She stayed still for a few moments as he labored, then calmly turned and bit into the armor covering the back of his neck.