Gregg Hurwitz - Minutes to Burn

"So the larvae are infected," Diego said despondently. "All of them."

There was a pause before Samantha answered. "Yes, I would imagine so."

"If this virus does indeed increase mutation and speed generational turnover," Donald said, "that would explain a number of the things you've described about the animals."

"Like what?" Cameron asked.

"Well, the switch from incomplete to complete metamorphosis, for one."

"A two-stage metamorphosis allows an organism to take advantage of variant food sources," Rex murmured. "It opens up the range of food available to it through its life cycle. The larvae seem primarily herbivorous-"

"While the adults seem to prefer people food," Szabla said. No one laughed.

"It would also explain the mantids' accelerated rate of development," Donald said. "Early reproduction is one of the keys to rapid increase. A ten percent decrease in age at first reproduction is roughly equivalent to a one hundred percent increase in fecundity. The rapid cycling of gener-ations entails, of course, extremely short intergenerational gaps. Think of the Aphis fabae."

"I often do," Szabla said.

"It's an aphid. Embryonic development for the next three generations actually begins in the mother's body before her own birth. If all her off-spring survived, a single female could produce five hundred twenty-four billion progeny in a year. Not to mention cecidomyian gall midges, who eat their mother alive from the inside, only to crawl from her shell and be devoured by their own offspring two days later." There was a silence as Donald paused. "If this virus indeed hastens the infected species' radiation, don't expect your larvae to hold in instar stages too long. After another molting or two, you're due for a metamorphosis."

Derek gazed at the larva in his lap, clearly upset. "But how does the virus know to do all this?" he asked.

"It doesn't know anything," Donald answered. "It has adapted to act certain ways because it's been shaped over thousands, maybe millions, of generations by random mutation and natural selection. Its actions merely give the appearance of motive."

"Do you think the adults will actively hunt us?" Justin asked.

"As Rex pointed out, aside from the occasional dog, no other sizable and appropriate food source on the island comes to mind," Donald said slowly. "Livestock would be too large, iguanas too small, and they'd be unable to crack a tortoise."

"I know we're all in a bit of a creature feature mindset," Rex said. "But let's bear in mind that the mantids are not malevolent. They're ani-mals that act on need and instinct-no more, no less."

Savage covered one nostril with a thumb and blew snot on the ground. He wiped his hand off on his cammies.

"None of the other wildlife seems to be affected," Diego said. "Why would the virus merely affect one species of animal like this?"

"Viruses tend to be most prevalent in one species," Samantha said. "The 'virus reservoir.' Like deer mice to hantavirus, monkeys to simian hemorrhagic fever, Calomys callosus to Machupo. But the Darwin virus has been present in a fairly wide range-microbes, dinos, mantids, and rabbits. The fact that it affects animals in the embryonic stage is trouble-some, because that's the time when cells from different species most resemble one another. If it could infect a rabbit embryo, it's not unrea-sonable that it could infect a canine embryo, for instance. The long shot is that any of these infected embryos would actually be viable. As it stands, we only have one accountable virus reservoir-the mantid line-age."

"And what do you usually do with this 'virus reservoir?'" Diego asked. He closed his eyes, clearly not wanting to hear the answer.

"If we can, we exterminate it." Samantha's voice was soft through the transmitter.

Rex stood up, removed his dirty Panama hat, and poured water from a canteen over his head. It dripped down the jagged wisps of his bangs, running across his stubbled face. "We had hoped to observe them for longer," he said. "It's quite an… quite an amazing thing happening out here." The wind sucked through the watchtower in the distance.

"Let's not be hasty," Donald said. "There still might be some way around killing them all. I'd like to confer with Samantha and the other virologists here and check back in a few hours. In the meantime, we're still doing our best to get you pulled off that island."

Donald and Samantha clicked out. The group sat around the dead fire, staring at one another across the ashes. Rex raised his hands, then let them fall into his lap.

"I don't want to exterminate this species," Diego said.

"It's not a new species," Rex said. He stood, running his fingers through his wet hair. "They're just manifestations of the virus." The oth-ers looked puzzled. "You've heard the expression that a chicken is merely the egg's way of making another egg?" No one looked like they had, so Rex continued. "Well, the mantid is just the virus's way of making more virus. These are sick animals. Infected and altered."

"This is how evolution works," Diego snapped. "Through sickness. Through mutation. It's a natural virus. These are all natural processes."

Savage leaned close to Diego, almost singeing him with the end of his cigarette. "I don't give a shit about natural," he growled. "Murder is nat-ural. Eating one's young is natural. Don't pull that shit on me again. You're so worried about killing the right animals in the right places. Pigs are bad, but lizards are good. This tree belongs here, this bush should be pulled up. It's all bullshit. Who cares whether these things are natural or not? We're assessing risk here. Us or them."

A flight of birds erupted from the Scalesia canopy, flycatchers and petrels, rising in crazed, looping circles. "But we could be…we could be terminating a species here," Diego said. "Many species."

"This island isn't ready for them," Rex said. Diego was shaking his head, so he stepped forward, addressing him softly. "You actively elimi-nate other feral animals-puppies, kittens, goats. These mantids are the ultimate introduced species-they could devour all the other animals, become just as damaging as pigs. Worse. We have no idea how they'll impact the ecology here. We might want to think about-"

Derek rose abruptly. "Nobody's making a move without my approval," he said. When he unclenched his hands, Cameron noticed the marks his fingernails had pressed into his palms. "Nothing is to happen unless I give the order. Is that clear?"

Suddenly, the ground bucked underfoot and Derek went down. A thin crevice opened up, snaking its way through the field parallel to the road. A few of the Scalesias at the forest's edge snapped, their branch-heavy tops smashing into the ground. Szabla and Justin's tent flapped up in the air, pinned down only by two strainers staked deep in the grass.

Szabla fell, landing on her back so hard her breath left her in a grunt. A hurricane lamp was smashed by a rolling cruise box. One of the logs by the fireplace dislodged from its muddy base and spun toward Szabla. She was sucking air, trying to pull herself up, but Cameron reached her first, grabbing one boot and yanking her clear just in time.

A large balsa by the road snapped at its base, plummeting down with a fierce whistling. It smashed into a lava boulder, splitting it with cracks. It lay on its side, palmate leaves riffling in the wind, gray bark standing out against the green of the pasture.

Rex watched the waving trees in the forest through the L of his thumb and index finger. A massive shudder shook the ground as a shelf of rock and silt sheered off the steep eastern coast nearly a kilometer away, then there was silence. Dust and dirt swirled in the air, refusing to settle. Derek pulled himself up and trotted to his tent, Diego scurrying after him. The others rose, dusting themselves off.