Gregg Hurwitz - Minutes to Burn

Benneton mulled this over. "Given our current lack of manpower, how can we monitor the island for a future reemergence?"

"A lot easier than if it's been irradiated," Samantha said.

Donald made a calming gesture. "Dr. Rodriguez has offered to moni-tor the ecological activity there on a regular basis, as well as keep an eye on the unicellular phytoplankton in surrounding waters. We can also take steps to quarantine the island."

Benneton pursed his lips, as though lost in an internal debate. "If you can give me those assurances," he finally announced, "then I will call off the strike."

Strickland inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. "I'm not sure-"

"If and only if those conditions are met," Benneton said. He ticked them off on his fingers. "The water system clean, the accountable virus reservoir exterminated, and continued supervision of the island. I'm sorry, Donald, but that's the most slack I can free up."

"Can't you delay the bombing?" Donald asked.

Strickland snickered. "Oh sure. I'll just ask the Air Force to permit the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to proceed to the Caracas summit without flight escort. Maybe pull air support from the three battalions we're shifting down the coast to Guayaquil." His usual grimace returned. "Given our limited resources, we need to find the most efficient means of neutralizing the situation."

"I don't think you comprehend the gravity of what's happening on that island."

"Oh, I certainly do, Doctor. Make no mistake about it-I'm aware we have a big-league problem on our hands. That's why we're going to deal with it in big-league fashion. We're juggling a constellation of logistics to get those planes to Baltra on the thirty-first for the 2200 extraction and 2300 bombing."

Strickland glanced at his watch. The digits blinked red and steady: 1903, 30 DEC 07. "You have twenty-six hours and fifty-seven minutes. I suggest you urge your colleagues to use them well." He placed his beret atop his head and adjusted it with a sweep of his index finger. "Good day."

He snapped a crisp salute to Benneton and headed up the hall.

Szabla pushed an electric blasting cap into a block of TNT, then taped the block to two others, creating one large brick. Since the Clacker detonator was generally used for Claymores, manufactured C4 charges with molded-in shrapnel, Szabla had to jerry-rig it. She spooled off a good length of wire running from the Clacker, spliced it, stripped the insulation, then performed a western union splice with the two wires of the blasting cap to ensure a good connection.

She held the Clacker in her hand, turning it over. It was about the size of a fist. Once she "clacked" it by clicking the ends together, the charge would run down the wire to the blasting cap, which would initiate the block in which it was ensconced, sympathetically detonating the remaining two blocks.

"Good to go, baby," she said. "We'll just veil it like a trap, and when that thing falls through, we'll green haze the motherfucker. Walls should collapse right in." She glanced down the length of the hole, assessing its span. "We're gonna need to veg up the top-we should use dead branches because they'll give easier. Savage estimated the last fucker at two, three hundred pounds." She turned to the others. "Go get some branches and leaves and shit. At least six branches."

She crouched, lowering the torch to afford Tank more light. He was removing the last of the rock from the far corner. Grunting, he heaved another shovelful up onto the grass.

"Um, maybe I'm a little slow here, but don't we have to go into the forest to get 'branches and leaves and shit'?" Justin asked.

"Uh huh. At least dead, brittle ones," Szabla said. "Over there, Tank," she added, turning back to the hole and pointing to a mound of rock in the far corner.

"And isn't there an enormous people-devouring creature in the forest?"

"Uh-huh."

Justin looked from Szabla to Savage and Cameron, then back to Szabla again. "If a equals b, and b equals c…"

"If we don't get this covered before it starts raining," Szabla said, "we can forget it." As if to punctuate her point, thunder rumbled across the sky. She could've sworn she felt the ground vibrate beneath her feet.

"But visibility's for dick right now," Justin said. "Maybe we should wait."

"We're trying to kill the thing, Kates, not build it a fucking swimming pool," Savage growled. He glanced over at Cameron. "Let's go."

Justin picked up an elbow light, and Cameron looked over at him, hands on her hips. "It'll be drawn to artificial light," she said. "Leave it."

She and Savage headed for the road, and Justin reluctantly set down the light and followed. The balsas towered in lines on either side. Cameron searched the bases of the balsas for dead branches, but Szabla was right-to find the longer branches and foliage they needed, they'd have to press into the forest itself. There hadn't been many fallen branches in the transition zone to begin with, and they'd used what they had found earlier for the fire.

The sky opened with a gentle rain. Cameron's sleeves began chafing around her arms with the moisture. Justin pulled off his shirt and tied it around his waist. The rain made its way down through the ridges of his stomach, and the muscles of his arm shifted as he swung the spike by his side. Cameron paused for a moment to admire him before ducking through the foliage.

The rain pattering atop the canopy made it sound as if they were inside a drum. They gathered wide fronds and long branches, moving quickly, their eyes darting nervously about. Each time Cameron reached out to snap a frond off a plant, she half expected to see the creature's face hiding behind it, jaws spread and thrusting. Sick as it sounded, she hoped the creature had gorged itself on Derek and was now resting.

The air smelled of decomposing leaves in the mud, dust trapped beneath the canopy overhead, and the swirls of insects buzzing around the trunks. The ferns whispered against one another. A large rat scurried unseen along the forest floor.

The moonlight was surprisingly strong, even through the trees and rain. Though Cameron had to squint as she searched the ground, she could make out the twisted outlines of fallen branches from a distance.

She stealthily approached a branch lying between two trees. She cir-cled it, checking the area for any sign of the creature, then grabbed it, backing up and pulling it behind her until she felt the dirt of the road beneath her boots. Justin was waiting, a mound of foliage at his feet. Savage emerged a moment later, arms laden with leaves and branches. The rain had momentarily ceased.

"You two look like trees in a school play," Justin smirked.

He shoved his spike through his belt, then picked up an armful of fern fronds, pressing them to his chest so that he could use his other hand to drag the branches.

Cameron eyed the length of the road. Aside from the trees along the sides, there wasn't much cover in which the creature could be lurking. They walked slowly, dragging the branches behind them in the dirt. To their right, they could see Frank's specimen freezer standing out in the field, a silver block. When they were about halfway to the watchtower, they cut left through the line of trees into the field and trudged past camp toward the others.

Cameron adjusted the branches in her arms as they arrived at the hole. Szabla took one look at the collection of branches and shook her head. "That one's not gonna be long enough," she said, pointing. "We'll need one more."

"Not long enough my ass," Justin said. "It's long enough."

Szabla walked over and hoisted the thick branch. She stared at Justin, holding the branch horizontally over the hole, her muscles flexed. "Grab the other end, Kates."