Gregg Hurwitz - Minutes to Burn

From behind, the mantid had blended in perfectly with the trees, the hard brown-and-green-speckled cuticle passing for a trunk in the night. Cameron had rested her forearm right across the folded wings of the mantid's back. The mantid hadn't struck only because she'd been facing away, and would surely have been detected in turning around.

Backpedaling, Cameron held the spike before her, her face drained of color. The mantid lumbered forward on her four hind legs, cocking her head, her large, unblinking eyes gathering Cameron into them. The spikes lining the raptorial legs glistened, still moist with rainwater, and the mantid snapped them once.

Cameron could not remember ever having been awed into silence, frightened beyond words, and yet, as she gazed at the creature stretched nearly nine feet in the air before her, its abdomen thicker than an oil drum, its slender weaponed legs, she was speechless. Her mouth worked open and closed, trying to call out to Tank, or scream, or both, but nothing came.

The mantid lunged forward, feigning a strike, and Cameron raised the spike protectively across her face as she stumbled back. Her heel caught on the fallen branch and she went down hard on her back, the spike rolling off through the leaves. With a cry, she sat up, digging her hands behind her so that she could shove herself to her feet, but it was too late.

She felt the shadow blocking out the moonlight even before she saw the creature looming over her.

The mantid readied herself for the strike, her arms coiled against her chest. The mouth gnashed air, and Cameron closed her eyes, thinking that the sound of wet lapping would be the last she ever heard.

Suddenly, she felt the mouth tighten around the back of her neck like a vise and she screamed, but when she opened her eyes, she was flying backward, gripped around her neck by one of Tank's meaty hands. As he yanked Cameron back, Tank swung the steel bolt with his other hand. The mantid reared up to dodge the bolt, which cut harmlessly through the empty space.

Tank backed up, dragging Cameron by the neck as her feet fumbled to find the ground beneath her.

The pain was excruciating; it felt as though Tank's fingers had pene-trated right through her flesh. His thumb crunched a nerve and she screamed, but her feet still couldn't get under her as he pulled her back-ward. With a quick jerk, Tank flung Cameron behind him. Her whole body took flight, the pain ringing through her neck like nothing she'd ever felt, and she hit the ground on all fours, her momentum carrying her sideways into a roll.

Tank stepped forward, wielding the bolt. Like a boxer, the mantid jabbed at him, her legs flashing out so quickly he couldn't see them. The smooth back of her spiked tibia struck Tank's arm just beneath the elbow. The bolt shot within inches of his cheek, flying end over end into the forest. If the muscles sheathing Tank's arm hadn't been so substan-tial, the bone would have gone to pieces. The first dull wave of pain swept through his forearm and he grimaced, keeping his eyes on the mantid.

He had lost his opportunity to turn and run. Cameron rustled to her feet behind him, too far away to help. The mantid drew herself up, her arms recoiling. She stood directly over the gnarled branch.

Tank fell to his knees and lunged at the mantid's legs. Seizing the end of the branch with his good arm, he yanked with all his might, pulling two of the mantid's legs out from under her. She swayed to the side, her raptorial legs flailing to help her regain her balance.

Tank rolled to his feet and sprinted for Cameron. She stood on unsteady legs, and he grabbed her by the arm and threw her in front of him, pushing her as he ran. She prayed she wouldn't trip.

Behind them, the mantid started forward, moving with surprising speed.

Cameron felt the mantid gaining on them as they crashed through the forest, but she soon caught up to the speed at which Tank was propelling her and really started to sprint. Quickly, she was paces out ahead of him, and he opened up a bit more, and then they were pulling away, slowly but surely, from the gnashing mouth she swore she could feel behind them.

Cameron reached the field ahead of Tank and waited for him a few paces from the forest's edge. She realized it was raining again when she felt the water washing across her face. Tank was gasping when he burst into view and he staggered a bit, doubling over.

For a blissful moment, it was silent behind Tank, and then Cameron heard the mantid again, crashing through the foliage.

Cameron ran back to Tank and looped her arm around his lower back, propelling him forward. "Move, Tank, you gotta move!" she screamed.

Panic swept through her when she heard the movement among the leaves grow louder. They started to run again, their boots sinking in the grass, slowing them. With the mantid a few hundred feet behind them, they headed for the two torches lighting the hole ahead.

Szabla had just laid the last of the fronds across the branches when she heard the yelling. Savage and Justin squared off with the dark-ness, waiting to see what would emerge. Gripping the knife handle firmly, Savage angled the Death Wind down his forearm with the sharp edge out, ready for punching or stabbing. The back of the blade pushed against his skin.

"The hole. Get the fucking hole ready!" came screaming at them through the darkness.

Savage almost instinctively swung his knife at Cameron and Tank as they dashed into the small ring of light.

"She's behind us," Cameron panted. "She's coming. Is the hole ready?"

"No, not yet," Szabla said. "We need that last branch to cover the end." She pointed to the dark strip at the edge of the hole. One on either side, the two torches still burned strong.

"We're gonna have to do without. Get behind the hole. Now! Behind it. Explosives ready?" Cameron spoke rapidly, frantically.

Szabla picked up the Clacker and tossed it to Savage. He stood a few paces off the lip of the vesicle, holding the unit, the wire trailing along the ground before disappearing through the covering leaves. He held it in both hands, fingers laced across the hinged end.

Behind them, the darkness was silent, save the raindrops pattering gently on the grass. Trees creaked and swayed in the breeze. About a hun-dred yards away, the edge of one of the GP tents flapped in the wind.

Szabla, Tank, and Cameron stood to the east of the hole. Savage waited facing the forest, toying with the Clacker.

"We can't all line up like this," Cameron said. "We'll scare it off."

"And that's a bad thing?" Justin asked.

"We don't have time, Justin," Szabla scowled. "In case you forgot, there's still another larva out there. We fuck around, we're gonna have two of these things on our hands."

Szabla stared at the rest of the squad. Cameron and Tank were still panting from their run. Szabla and Savage made the strongest team right now, so they'd have to handle it. She turned to Tank, Justin, and Cameron. "You three. Split." She pointed downslope. "Me and Savage'll lure this thing into the hole. Once you hear the blast, come running."

The shed atop the watchtower howled with the wind and they all jerked, but still nothing appeared.

"Go, Cam. That's an order." Szabla looked at them anxiously. "Now!"

Tank and Justin turned and ran into the darkness. Cameron took a few halting steps backward, her eyes on Szabla.

"Go! " Szabla yelled.

With a grimace, Cameron sprinted off after Tank and Justin. Szabla and Savage watched her figure fade into the night, Savage weighing the Clacker in his hand.

"How do you know it won't go after them?" Savage asked. He ran his fingers over the cut on his forearm. It had already scabbed over.

"It'll be drawn to the light," Szabla said.