Warren Fahy - Fragment

Nell mouthed the Morse code as she read the flashing light on the distant ridge. S… O…

“I’m sorry, Mr. President,” Geoffrey said, rising. “There seems to be a signal, sir, on the north ridge of the island!”

“It’s an S.O.S.!” Nell confirmed, rising beside him.

The room broke into commotion as everyone turned toward the window. The light blinked on a step of what looked like a stairway of rock reaching out of the dripping jungle, halfway up the northern slope.

“Well! Thank God. Let’s get a rescue party over there pronto, people,” the President ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Dr. Cato said. He turned to Nell, but she was staring at the flashing light, her face pale with desperation.

“You have twenty-four hours, people,” the President said. “I hope that we will all use them well, and that God may forgive us for what we are now called upon to do. Godspeed!”

The screen went black. Then everyone rose and rushed from the room.

Geoffrey followed Nell. She seemed to be ignoring him now as she strode behind the others through the clogged corridors to the hatch.

“Wait, Nell! Where are you going?”

“Out there.”

Several other scientists had started zipping into hazmat suits. She reached for the hatch control console on the wall.

“Hey, aren’t you going to suit up?”

“No feedbag for me, thanks. Anyway, the only reason to wear them was to protect the island from our germs, and that’s a moot point now. I see the military stopped wearing them a while ago.”

“Yeah,” one Army staffer said. “Some of the scientists like to wear them.”

Sir Nigel Holscombe, who had started zipping in with his camera crew, overheard them. “Balls!” he said. “If she’s not wearing one, I’m not wearing one!”

A wave of zippers unzipping followed as the others stepped out of their suits.

Thatcher and several others crushed into the air hatch. Geoffrey was pressed up against Nell’s back as more squeezed in behind him.

“Still there?” she asked as the hatch was closed.

Her icy tone made him wince. “Everything I know about successful ecosystems suggests that they evolve toward cooperation and away from predation,” he said to her stiffened back.

“You can’t be a vegetarian if there aren’t any plants.”

Thatcher overheard them from the back of the airlock, having squeezed in at the last second.

“But the growth on the fields,” Geoffrey said. “Something must eat that?”

“Everything eats that, and it eats everything. Everything eats everything here.”

“That’s impossible!”

“On Henders Island, Dr. Binswanger, I’m afraid you have to think outside the box,” Nell said crisply, as the outer hatch unsealed and opened. “Either that or you better stay in the box and hope like hell nothing gets in.”

She strode out onto the path outside without turning back to see if he was following.

Army personnel were mobilizing within the base perimeter. They were assembling a search-and-rescue convoy to investigate the distress signal, which still flashed steadily on the island’s northern slope.

The challenge lay in bringing a ground vehicle to the survivor. Two helicopter teams searched the craggy jungled slope, but so far had been unable to spot the source of the signal. And besides, helicopters were forbidden to land, drop anyone down, or pick anyone up. Dangling from a rope over Henders Island had proven to be a fatal mistake.

Under the saltwater drizzle of the fountains, scientists and soldiers hurriedly prepared for a last blitz of specimen collecting. They loaded saltwater tanks and cannons, aluminum specimen traps, and as much video and scientific equipment as they could cram into the remaining Humvees. They ran hunched over, shielding the gear and their eyes from the rain of seawater, as they quickly fueled and loaded the train of vehicles.

The High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicles, or Humvees for short, had been fitted with “Mattracks,” individual tank treads for each wheel that made them sit a few feet higher off the ground than they would have with tires. An engineer had designed Mattracks after his eleven-year-old son Matt drew a picture of a truck equipped with tank-treads on each wheel. Young Matt’s idea had turned out to be quite ingenious. The tracks could be retrofitted to any vehicle, and the treads chewed through rough, flooded, and steep terrain with equal ease. The U.S. military had gleefully bolted them onto nearly every kind of field vehicle in their fleet. Only Mattrack-fitted Humvees had been airlifted to Henders Island after the disaster with the XATV-9’s tires, which had led to the deaths of two scientists, a diplomat, and their driver.

The three Humvees assigned to investigate the distress signal were ready to roll at the head of the line. Behind them, Sir Nigel Holscombe and his camera crews frantically loaded their two Hummers.

Nell climbed into the backseat of the first Hummer, and Thatcher followed her. Thatcher smelled a triumphant sequel to his book, and the prospect of that payoff charged his soul with a form of courage: nothing could stop him from tagging along on this expedition.

Geoffrey opened the door on the right side of the Hummer and climbed in next to Nell. “Mind if I join you? Oh, hello, Thatcher.”

“Still hoping for a benign species?” the botanist asked.

Geoffrey smiled. “Nell, it just seems impossible to me that something from this island can’t be preserved.”

“I felt the same way, Geoffrey. I don’t anymore,” she said. “More than a dozen people I knew have been killed on this island. If you expect me to apologize for wanting it nuked, forget it.”

The driver barked responses into the radio. He wore green camouflaged Army fatigues, body armor, and a helmet. Nell saw him kiss a gold crucifix that hung around his neck and tuck it under his armored vest.

Then she recognized the man sitting in the shotgun seat, holding a camcorder. The cameraman also wore body armor and Nell noticed the NASA headband camera on the photographer’s head with the viewfinder retracted over his ear.

She tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Nell!” Zero Monroe shouted, and he turned toward her with a big grin.

“Back for more?”

“You, too, darlin’?”

Nell squeezed his arm. “You OK?”

“Yeah. They patched me up. The poison wore off. I can even move my leg again.” He laughed.

“Does Cynthea know you’re here?”

“No, not this time-when I heard this was going down I came straight from the Enterprise sick bay.”

“Somebody’s out there,” she said softly.

“I know.” He nodded. “I keep wondering if someone survived that first day… But that’s impossible.” He shook his head, grimacing, remembering the sound of the shrieks inside the crevasse.

Someone tapped on the window next to Zero. Zero opened the door.

“Got room for one more?” Dr. Cato asked.

“Sure, but you’ll have to sit in the middle. I need the window,” Zero said, jumping out.

The white-haired scientist climbed in and greeted Nell in the backseat. She frowned.

“It may not be safe, Dr. Cato. Are you sure you want to come along?”

“Well…” Dr. Cato sighed. “It looks like the last chance I’ll get to see this island up close.” He seemed a bit distracted. “I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t take the opportunity, Nell.” Then he turned and met her gaze. “Besides, somebody should look after you and make sure you don’t do anything too dangerous out there, my dear.”

Zero climbed in and slammed the Hummer door.

“OK, listen up!” the driver yelled to get their attention. “I am Sergeant Cane! You scientists have been embedded on this mission, but it is my mission, and I do not like the idea. So you all need to know that I make the rules here, and my rule is FINAL. Is that understood?”