Gregg Hurwitz - Minutes to Burn

Derek and Tank clawed their way over the fallen cactus tree, the thick, moisture-retaining spines digging into their palms and knees. "Juan!" Derek yelled. "You all right?"

"I'm fine." Juan tried to sit up but grimaced sharply and clutched his side. He collapsed again, fighting weakness and gravity. "Just need…a little… hand here."

Derek stepped forward, high on the cactus tree, and took Juan's hand, gripping it firmly around the thumb so that he could better bear his weight. Tank stood behind him, boots smashing down the cactus pads.

"All right," Derek said. "One…two…"

An aftershock rippled the ground and Derek's feet went out from under him. The cactus spines dug into his back even through his cam-mies, and he grunted with pain, but he didn't let go of Juan's hand. Juan moaned, jerked forward by his arm. Derek managed to sit up, his hand still tight around Juan's. They were only about two feet from each other, their eyes level.

"I got you, buddy," Derek said. "I still got you."

A large lava rock, the size of a sailor's chest, dislodged from the top of the cliff. It banged once against the face, letting loose a scattering of dirt and stone, and was free in the air, hurtling down.

They both looked up just as the rock struck Juan, glancing off the side of his head and smashing into his lap. His hand was ripped from Derek's with such force that his fingernails left red lines down Derek's palm.

Juan grunted under the impact, a spray of blood leaving his lips, and then he was buried under the rock, only the top of his head visible. His legs stuck out awkwardly beneath it, twitching. His canteen was smashed to pieces through his thighs.

"Jesus God," Derek whispered. "Jesus God."

Tank stumbled forward, pulling his boots free from the cactus tree, and stood above the boulder and Juan's body. For a moment, it was deathly quiet.

Then they heard the rasping.

Juan's head tilted and pulled back from the rock. The entire right side of his face was awash in blood, a shard of cheekbone glinting some-where in the mess. Breath rattled through him. His lips faded away into crushed teeth. The bloody maw opened. And screamed. A splattering of blood left the mouth with each cry.

"Get it off!" Derek yelled. "Get the fucking thing off."

Tank struggled forward, cactus pads stuck to the bottoms of his boots. Lines of sweat streaked from his hairline, curving down his ruddy cheeks.

Derek grabbed the rock and fought against it, but it didn't budge. He felt a jagged edge tear into his right hand, but he strained against the wound with all his might.

The screaming quickened.

Tank laid one massive hand on Derek's shoulder and hurled him aside. He spread his arms and seized the rock in a massive embrace. Dipping low on his haunches, he prepared himself as though for a power-lifting squat.

The screaming continued-harsh, rattling cries filled with liquid. Juan started to jerk back and forth, flailing against the rock. Blood was splat-tering all over the place now; Derek could see droplets filling the air even over Tank's shoulders.

"Jesus, kill him. We should just kill him," Derek yelled.

But he had no gun. He found himself looking around for a rock to use as a makeshift weapon, his stomach cold and pulsing at the thought.

Straining with all his might, Tank rose from his crouch. He groaned through his clenched teeth, the sound rising to a roar. His face filled with blood, swelling until it looked as if it would explode if pricked with a pin. His shirt split straight down the back.

The boulder shifted in Juan's lap and then rose, hovering barely an inch above his smashed thighs. With another roar, Tank leaned back, hugging the rock to his chest and getting it about two feet off the ground. With the force of his entire body, he tried to hurl the boulder to one side, but it dribbled out of his arms, thunking into the lava.

Juan lay motionless, his jaw open with his dying scream. His arms were twisted up to his chest, one hand bent out at a grotesque angle, a nub of bone protruding from the wrist.

Tank swayed as he looked at the body, his arms moving like pendulums. He tried to clench his hands into fists but could not. They dangled open in defeat. Red scrapes ran all the way from the insides of his wrists up across his chest. His shirt hung from his shoulders in ribbons.

"Let's go," Derek said. He rested a hand on Tank's shoulder, but Tank shook it off. "He's done," Derek said sternly. "Let's clear out before more aftershocks hit."

Tank nodded once, a slight movement of his head. Derek rested a hand on his shoulder, turning him toward the water. Tank grunted with his first step. Derek stabilized him as best he could with an arm around his waist, but it didn't really help.

They crested the cactus tree, and Tank stumbled roughly down, taking a spray of spines across the back of his thighs. His feet jarred against the lava, and he would have kept going down to his knees if Derek hadn't caught him, staggering under his weight. Tank righted himself, whimpering like a puppy.

Szabla took an instinctive step forward, but Cameron grabbed her shoulder. "Orders," she said. Breathing hard, Szabla pushed Cameron's hand from her shoulder, but stayed put. Tank leaned hard on Derek as they approached, his movements stiff and pained.

A section of the cliff gave way, burying Juan's corpse and the Zodiac in a surge of rocks. As the last few stones tumbled to the top of the mound, Derek locked his arms around Tank's waist, lacing his fingers and straining as they stumbled across the slippery black rock into the surf. They tried to duck a four-foot wave, but it hit them square in the chest. Tank came up gasping, facing the others. To the west, water shot through the blowholes, sending screeching blasts into the air.

Szabla's face was blank. "Juan?" she asked.

Derek shook his head.

Justin leaned into Cameron, and she pressed back reassuringly with her shoulder. Tucker looked out across the rough ocean, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

Savage smiled. "Welcome to Sangre de Dios," he said in a low purring voice.

Tank's legs gave out, and he hit the surf with a splash. It took four of them to lift him out of the water.

The tremors subsided and soon Derek didn't even have to brace against the waves. The mound of lava rocks at the cliff shifted, sending a trickle down one side that flowed gentle and steady like hourglass sand before stopping. The air stilled.

Trailing long, slender streamers, a few red-billed tropicbirds circled overhead, preparing to return to their nests in the cliff walls. Baby Sally Lightfoot crabs scrabbled across the lava, their bright orange shells seeming to glow against the dark rock.

The soldiers waited silently for another aftershock, standing thigh-deep in the water. After about fifteen minutes, Derek sloshed up onto the flat lava plain. He turned to help Tank pull himself up, and the oth-ers followed.

The stack of cruise boxes and kit bags remained before the cliff walls, barely beyond the reach of the fallen rocks. The cruise boxes' hard tops had been dinged up, but they hadn't collapsed. The weapons box, along with several cruise boxes, was buried in the rubble with the Zodiac. Derek gazed at the collapsed section of the cliff. There was no way they'd be able to get Juan's body, the Zodiac, or any of the buried gear out from under that much rock. Not without a bulldozer. The weapons had been useless anyway, though Derek was not looking forward to filling out a report detailing the missing ordnance.

The soldiers assessed the terrain in silence. Rex looked pale, almost sickly, and he repeatedly glanced over at the mound of rocks burying Juan's body. Finally, Szabla smacked him on the chest. "Relax. All that staring's not gonna make him any less dead."