Gregg Hurwitz - Minutes to Burn

Justin turned and disappeared in the darkness.

Justin moved with excruciating slowness down to the coast, making his way through the clusters of transition zone trees until he passed the watchtower, then inching down the trail through the arid zone, past palo santo trees and cacti. Finally, he reached the cliffs above Punta Berlanga, careful not to startle any birds from the masked booby nesting grounds. He hiked down the thin trail cut into the hard walls.

Casting nervous glances up the beach, he made his way to the water and stripped to his boxers, laying his clothes in a neat pile. The breeze raised goose bumps on his arms.

The flashlight was tied to a thin braided rope that he looped over his shoulder. Though the rope was strong, he still gripped the flashlight by the handle.

He turned and faced the smooth dark bay. The water came up around him in a rush as he dipped beneath the surface. He dolphin-kicked underwater, heading toward the unbroken arc of the horizon.

When Cameron finished searching the biostation tent, she noticed Tank squatting, an elbow light on and swinging between his legs. She reached over immediately and turned it off. "No light," she said.

Tank nodded. He was holding his right arm tenderly, resting the elbow in the cup of his left hand.

"Lemme see," she said, crouching beside him. He shook his head. "C'mon, hero, you fucked it up rescuing me, the least I can do is take a look." She reached for his arm, but he pulled it away, so she slapped him lightly across the face. "Behave!"

She cuffed up his sleeve and saw that the flesh of his arm was swollen almost to the point of bursting. It was a deep bluish-black, bulging along the back of his forearm just beneath the elbow.

Tank read her face immediately.

"I think you've got a compound, kiddo," she said, trying not to sound concerned.

"Nope," he said. "Woulda felt it snap."

"Just swollen, then?" she asked. "Or a hairline?" He nodded. "Want to splint it?"

Tank shook his head. Suddenly, he leapt to his feet, pushing Cameron behind him. She whirled around but there was nothing there. Down the road, the watchtower howled.

"Sorry," Tank said.

"That's okay. Let's check on Savage. Then we should get ahold of the explosives and figure out somewhere to hole up for the night. The forest has the most cover, but the mantid's also got the advantage there." Cameron thought about how she had rested her arm right across the creature's back without noticing her. "The forest is definitely her habitat. Hopefully, she went back there with her kill." She ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek, pushing it out. "Ready?"

Tank nodded. "I'll take point," she said. She headed for the road, taking five paces before Tank followed, sliding to her right.

They eased slowly through the lines of balsas into the eastern field.

The remaining torch near the hole came into view, the last flickering spot of light in the darkness. At one point, it disappeared for a moment, as if some large body had passed before it, but Cameron couldn't be sure.

They crossed the field at a laborious pace. Cameron tried to feel the ground before every step, knowing that the slightest noise, even the overturning of a small rock, could be sensed by the mantid's antennae were she anywhere near. Tank was so quiet behind her she could barely hear him. Cameron sidestepped two giant tortoises that had bedded down for the night, twinning shadows rising before her.

She had been on more missions than she could count on both hands: missions where death surely awaited several members of her platoon. And she had gone into them unshaking, unflappable. But enemy soldiers killed cleanly and swiftly. A blade across the throat, a bullet through the back of the neck, even a frag grenade in the gut and you died on the spot. If there was any, the pain was typical. If it was excruciating, at least she'd known to expect it.

What waited for them now, up ahead or in the forest, between torch-lit tents or trunks of trees, was unlike anything she'd ever thought she'd have to contend with. A clawing, biting, grasping death, an awareness even as something began to feed on your skull.

She thought about Szabla twisted in the arms of the creature-her mouth open in a scream, her eyes rolling, her arms dangling from her hunched shoulders like those of a mannequin.

The three remaining tents quivered in the wind. The dark curve in the ground where they had built the fire looked like a crater. When Tank passed the log near the fire ashes, he picked up the spike that was leaning against it. She was glad to see him with a weapon back in his hands. With cautious steps, Cameron circled the base camp once. No sign of the mantid. With two fingers, she signaled to Tank that she was moving for-ward. They eased along the grass toward the vesicle on their toes, the heels of their boots never touching the ground.

The torch waned, flickering dimly across the yawning mouth of the hole. A few broken branches protruded, flared like the feathers of a pea-cock. The torchlight played sharply off the woven mat of leaves and fronds that had covered the hole, outlining the waving foliage on the field. The shadows bounced and dipped on the grass like puppets.

Leaning forward, Cameron inched to the edge. She peeked over, pulling back quickly in case the mantid was waiting there. Among the broken branches and fronds, Savage lay, his arms and legs bent at unnat-ural angles, one hand still tightly gripping his knife. The whites of his eyes flashed as he blinked. She knew right away that he was paralyzed. He did not cry out.

There was a mound of fresh rock at the base of the northern wall. Cameron signaled Tank to stand guard and used the knotted rope to climb down. Tank stayed close to the edge, his head and shoulders visi-ble from the bottom of the hole.

The ground was moist on the far side. In the corner, there appeared to be a pile of clothing, but Cameron couldn't quite make it out in the darkness. When she realized that it was a heap of Szabla's bowels, she almost retched, her stomach rising until she felt a pushing at the back of her throat.

Savage's eyes followed her as she approached him.

"Hey there, soldier," she said.

He smiled but it turned into a grimace. Cords stood out along his neck as he tried desperately to move his limbs. Cameron watched him and felt her breathing intensify.

Savage relaxed, then cracked a smile. "Ain't life a bitch?" he said.

Cameron started to talk, but her throat was gummed up with mucus, so she cleared it and tried again. "You're gonna be okay. We're gonna get you out of here."

The red blocks of TNT peeked out from beneath his stiffened leg. He shook his head, nearly imperceptibly. "No, you're not. You're not gonna do that to me."

"I can-"

He laughed quietly, but it ended like a sob. "I done a lot of shit," he said.

Cameron crouched, then stood again.

"I done a lot of shit, but I never left a man down." His eyes mois-tened. "I never left a goddamn man down."

Cameron had to wait a moment before speaking. "I was responsible for Tank and Justin. I had to make a choice."

"Well, now you have to see that choice through." His eyes were nei-ther angry nor accusatory; they were pitiless.

She glanced up the steep wall of the hole. "We can make a stretcher, maybe haul you up with rope." Her voice sounded hollow, even to her.

Savage's snicker tangled in his throat. "Yeah. Good thinking. Sit around and nursemaid me so we all die."

They faced each other, breathing together, though even this was a struggle.

"I was knocked out, so I didn't see where the bitch went," Savage said. He tried to turn his head to the mound of rock the mantid had left when she'd scrambled out, but he couldn't. "I'd bet back up to the forest." Cameron nodded. "You're gonna kill her," he said. It was not a question.