Gregg Hurwitz - Minutes to Burn

"Necessary." Diego laughed a short, sad laugh. "It'll leave this place nothing but barren volcanic rock. A dead hump of stone protruding from the sea, just like it was three million years ago." He clicked the handset. Long short long. "Three million years. Three million years of life taking hold here in minute, painstaking increments." His ponytail swayed as he shook his head. "One third of the plants here are found nowhere else. Half of the birds and insects. Ninety percent of the rep-tiles. These tortoises could be the same ones Darwin himself saw on his expedition. The very same ones."

Cameron did not respond.

"When you look around here," he asked "what do you see?"

Cameron shrugged. "Rocks. Trees."

Diego laughed his sad laugh again. He pointed to a small fern that rose from the matted grass past the fire. "Spores of ferns can resist low temperatures. They were sucked up in the air, probably blown out here all the way from the mainland, and they dropped to the earth with the condensation." He gestured to the Scalesia forest. "The first Scalesia seeds, probably carried over in birds' stomachs, or stuck to the mud on their feet." He spread his arms wide. "Legumes are plentiful here because the empty space between the embryo and external shell makes their seeds like little rafts. Cotton-resilient to long stays in salt water." He raised a hand from the radio, watching an ant work its way along his forearm. "Ants carried here on palm tree logs. Turtles using the pockets of air between their upper backs and shells to float out here, spiders surviving windstorms, dropping to the islands from three thousand meters."

He dropped his hands heavily to the ground between his legs. "You see rocks and trees. I see order and reason and design and beauty." He lowered his head. "Don't let them bomb this island."

"It got to this from bare lava," Cameron said. "It can do it again."

Diego studied her, and she grew uncomfortable under his eyes. Finally, he looked away. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. "Some people never realize how valuable something is until they destroy it."

30 Dec 07

MISSION DAY 6

For the first time in nearly 120 hours, Derek slept. He dreamed of Jacqueline's eyes, enigmatic swirling pools as dark as blood. He could have sworn they were lighter once, that they flickered with some hidden illumination, but maybe that had been his imagination.

The Night Of, he'd gone alone to midnight mass. The drive home afterward was peaceful, but the air had choked out of him when his house first loomed in view. It had looked different, imperceptibly yet ter-rifyingly altered. Branches had curled into the sky, skeletal fingers straining toward the moon. Shadows had fallen in chunks and blocks about the yard at all the wrong angles; the yellow paint had grown wan; the front door had gleamed as if afire. He'd known at once that something was dreadfully wrong within.

He stirred from his sleep, the inside of the tent lit green from the can-vas. His dreams had been painfully vivid. He raised the flap of the tent and peered out, feeling like a captive, which he supposed he was. Tank sat on the log facing the forest. A spike leaned against the log beside him.

Derek almost stopped breathing when he saw the larva across the fire pit from Tank, its thorax elevated, its head tilted. It must have come from the west, inching into camp under cover of the tall grass while Tank watched the forest. Was it the same one? Maybe they hadn't killed it after all. With quiet, stealthy movements, he crept from his tent to the larva, his eyes trained on Tank's back. Though it was early, the sun had already begun its daily assault on the island; Derek felt it tingling across his cheeks and forehead.

When he got closer, he could tell that it was a different larva. It was significantly fatter and its eyes were lopsided, the left one a good half inch higher. This larva was over three feet long. It swung its head over, taking in Derek. He saw the gills along its neck flutter slightly, its thin antennae bobbing. Its eyes caught the first ray of the rising sun and reflected it back in twinning prisms.

Derek closed his eyes and an image flashed out at him from the dark-ness-Jacqueline's head raised high and proud, eyes ablaze like a prophetess's, a smudge of blood across her cheek. Behind her, curtains fluttering in the nighttime breeze.

When Derek looked at the larva again, he couldn't help thinking of the small, helpless face of his daughter. He inched forward, careful not to alert Tank, and raised the larva to his chest, supporting its weight with an arm along its underbelly. He held it, feeling the smooth cuticle of the head against his cheek. Its prolegs clung to him. Its cool head brushing his chin, he backtracked around the dead fire.

He almost dropped the larva when he saw Tank looking at him across the ashes of the fire pit. Derek instinctively turned the larva away from Tank, as if to shield it from his glare. He noticed Tank's hand tighten in a fist around the spike at his side, and before he knew what he was doing, he was off and running, clutching the larva to his chest, one hand hooked around its abdomen and one supporting its head.

He heard Tank shout behind him, but he kept running across the grassy field and into the forest, the branches snapping across his face until it was streaked with blood.

Cameron and the others were out of their tents by the time Tank returned from the pursuit. "Derek," Tank said, pointing and breathing hard. They stood watching the edge of the forest, as if Derek were going to reappear. Savage cursed under his breath.

"He has one," Tank said. "A larva."

"You'd better come clean with me!" Savage snapped, turning to the others. "What the fuck is going on here?"

The other soldiers looked at one another, deciding who would speak.

"Derek had an accident with his baby," Cameron finally said. "With his baby girl."

"What the fuck does that mean? An accident."

"Look," Cameron said. "It's not important. Let's deal with the problems at hand."

"This is a problem at hand."

"There's no need to waste time getting into details. His wife had post-partum psychosis. There was an accident. Derek's fucked up. He has a larva. Let's move on."

"What else did he take?" Rex asked. "A spike, a flare? What?"

"Well, I think he had a flare in his cargo pocket," Justin said. "That leaves us three." He looked around, double-checking. "The spikes are all here."

"All right," Cameron said. She stared at the ascending sun, trying not to squint. Morning already. She turned to Rex. "What's our time frame for metamorphosis?"

"I don't know, but I'd imagine soon. As Donald said, these things are turning over generations as quickly as possible. We saw that one molt already-they're on wildly accelerated development curves. Could be days. Could be less."

Justin checked his watch. "We may or may not be here."

"We could spend all our time today building traps for when the larvae transform, but I still think it's better to strike preemptively instead of waiting around and dealing with a bigger problem," Szabla said. "Let's see if we can round up any larvae this morning. We'll muster at 1300, at which time we can discuss Plan B."

"So the top order of business is still hunting down the larvae. We've got…" Cameron paused, counting in her head. "Two unaccounted for and a third with Derek."

"What about Derek?" Justin asked.

"I'll deal with Derek," Savage said.

"Don't even think about hurting him," Cameron snapped.

"You're not his mother," Szabla said. "Not anymore."

"What's your plan for dealing with him?" Rex asked Cameron.

"I'm hoping if he has some time, he'll come around. I'll try to contact him by transmitter in a bit. Hopefully, he'll reactivate it so I can reach him."