Minutes to Burn

Chapter 37

Derek walked down the two-hundred-yard stretch of dirt road toward the watchtower, the sturdy balsas rising overhead, the forest looming behind him like a broad, slumbering beast. He climbed the makeshift ladder and reached the top of the wobbly structure, a decrepit open shack with an overhang about fifty feet up.

He faced south toward the darkening blue of the ocean, leaning heavily against one of the shack walls, which groaned under his weight. A big wave rolled in, disappearing from view beneath the cliffs of Punta Berlanga, and then he saw the five distinct sprays of the blowholes shooting up in the air. They misted, dissolved. He wondered if the slight moisture he felt against his cheeks was the water from the blowholes reaching him up here, kilometers away.

His eyelids felt heavy, almost leaden. He fought them open, and his vision blurred. He let it, taking in the island like an Impressionist land-scape. Since the mission's start, he'd hardly slept at all. He nodded off and almost toppled from the tower, awakening at the last moment and grabbing the wall. Adrenaline pounded through him.

He needed to sleep. Climbing slowly down the ladder, he headed back to base and ducked into his tent early.

The humble fire fought the dusk. The larva rustled in the grass, no longer needing to seek shade. Rex and Diego had been analyzing its movements, seeing how it responded to light and touch. They'd already grown accustomed to its gentle, lethargic movements-there was some-thing almost hypnotic about them.

Savage dumped an armful of firewood near the pit. He noticed Szabla way off down the dirt road, staring at something against the base of a tree at the forest's edge. He ducked through the alley of balsas onto the road and walked up to her.

"Look," she whispered, pointing. "A praying mantis." The mantid was about eight inches tall, standing in a patch of weeds by a thick gnarled root. "She's a big one, huh? I almost didn't see her there. I was just watching these finches."

A few finch chicks hopped among the rocks, searching for grubs and beetles. The mantid regarded them with interest.

"Growing up, we called praying mantises 'soothsayers,'" Szabla said. "My mother said they point the way home for lost children."

One of the finch chicks hopped close to the patch of weeds. With a movement too quick to see, the mantid lunged forward, crushing the chick in its front legs.

Szabla's smile faded.

The mantid's head lowered beneath the squawking beak and the chick was still. The mantid continued working on the chick, turning it with its legs. It pulled back into the weeds on its spindly legs.

"Back home," Savage said, letting his hand come to rest on Szabla's shoulder, "we called them 'Devil Horses.'"

The dirt around the fire pit was growing scorched, dark sediment set-tling over it like snow. Cameron toyed with the ring around her neck, rubbing the top of the sapphire with a fingernail. Tank tried to stretch his lower back, then sat on the log next to her and rested a heavy forearm across her shoulders.

The larva munched the back of the log on which Diego sat. The harsh, steady sounds of its mandibles grating the wood filled the air.

Szabla, Savage, and Tucker sat across the fire from it, clearly uncomfort-able. The base of the log between Diego's feet splintered, then gave way, and the larva's head poked through, its jaws working around a mouthful of wood. Diego reached down and gently stroked its head.

Its appetite seemed nearly insatiable-Diego and Rex had been experimenting with it for the past hour, feeding it everything from cac-tus pads to palo santo branches. They still had not determined whether it was carnivorous, but it had shied away from a full-grown land iguana, which Rex had attempted to feed it despite Diego's protestations. Now, swollen with food, the larva sprawled along the edge of the rainwater-filled cruise box near Tank's tent.

Derek emerged from his tent into the dark tropical night, rubbing his jaw. His eyes were bloodshot, the rims red.

"Thought you were trying to get some sleep, LT," Cameron said.

Derek took a swig from a canteen. He rubbed his eyes, then massaged his temples with the heels of his hands. "How do you know I didn't?" he asked.

"I don't know," Szabla said. "Your charming disposition."

A sudden splash caused Cameron to turn to the cruise box, and she realized the larva had scaled one of the sides and fallen in. Diego was up in a flash, leaning over the open cruise box. The others crowded around him as he reached into the murky waters.

"Is it all right?" Cameron asked, surprised by the concern in her voice.

Rex pushed through the others to Diego's side, staring down into the cruise box. The larva squirmed along the bottom, wriggling like an eel as Diego tried to grab it.

"Wait," Tank said, pointing. "Look."

Rex grabbed Diego's arm, pulling it back. Derek signaled Tank to step back to let the firelight through. The larva's thrashing slowed. "Pull it out," Derek said. He looked worried, almost upset. "Pull it out."

"No, wait," Diego said. "It's breathing. Look." He pointed to the larva's gills, which fluttered underwater. "Holy shit. The gills must feed an air bladder, or versatile lungs of some sort."

"Holy shit is right," Tucker said. "This thing gonna fly too?"

"Maybe that's what it was doing when we discovered it," Diego said. "Heading for the ocean." He grasped the larva firmly around the base of the head and pulled it from the water. It dangled before him, squirming in the air, its abdomen curling. Its obsidian eyes glowed in the firelight, its spiracles emitting the cooing sound.

Diego set the larva on the ground. It sputtered, expelling water from its gills, its body humping and straightening against the dirt.

"I think we should kill it," Szabla said. "Take it apart, see what it is."

Derek, Diego, and Cameron glared at her with outrage. "Exterminating species went out with rail barons and the Third Reich," Rex snapped.

"I agree with Szabla," Savage said. He flashed a dramatic thumbs-down, Roman-emperor style.

Justin stood up, knocking his hands together angrily. "Now that's a big fuckin' surprise."

"Nobody's gonna kill this thing," Derek said.

Szabla ran her fingers along the raised line of bruises on her neck. "Or what, LT?"

They broke up, heading for their respective tents. Though the larva had shown no sign of straying, Diego emptied the cruise box and placed it inside. "I'll keep an eye on it tonight," he announced. Closing the lid, he began to drag the cruise box toward his tent.

Diego heard the larva's fluttering coo as he pulled the box through the flap and lit the hurricane lamp. He set it in the corner, then sat on his bed, staring at the closed container. A simple rectangular box, containing per-haps the most startling aberration of nature to be discovered in his life-time. And he was the discoverer. Maybe his surname would even find its way into the animal's taxonomic nomenclature.

The canvas flap whispered and he glanced over and saw Derek hulking just inside his tent. He started, almost falling off the bed. "You star-tled me," Diego said.

Derek did not reply. The light from the lamp played across his face, the flame reflecting in his bloodshot eyes. He'd let his beard go several days, and it rasped beneath his fingers when he ran his hand up across a cheek. "I want to take a look at it," he said, jerking his head toward the cruise box. "Alone."

Diego placed his hands on his knees, feeling himself start to sweat. "I thought we agreed we weren't going to hurt it."

Derek looked at him, his eyes finding sudden focus. They were sharp, offended, but the look quickly faded. "If you want to keep this thing in my base camp with my men, I need to take a closer look at it."

Diego crossed his arms. "Why do you have to be alone?"

"Maybe you'd prefer to leave the larva outside and take your chances that it'll still be there in the morning?"

Diego stood and headed hesitantly for the flap. Derek did not move out of his way, and he had to squeeze past him to get out of the tent. He halted outside, tilting back his head and taking a deep breath, then turned and peered through a gap in the flap.

Derek waited a moment before crossing to the cruise box, slowly lifting the lid. The interior was bathed in darkness. He raised the lamp, leaning over to peer inside.

The larva's head rose slowly from the darkness, tilting. For a few moments, Derek stood quietly, the larva regarding him and cooing from its spiracles. Finally, he leaned forward and lifted the larva out of the cruise box as he would a baby from a crib, gripping it around the thorax. Its abdomen curled and loosened, dangling beneath it. It may have just been the light, but its head looked remarkably anthropomorphic-the large, round eyes, the mouth closed into a clean line, mandibles retracted.

Derek pressed the larva against his chest. Spreading his large hand awkwardly on the back of its thorax, he walked with it, its bottom abdomen segments tapping against his stomach. Then he cupped its head, rocking his hand gently so the antennae swayed.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Diego ducked through the flap, clearing his throat angrily. Derek quickly held the larva out away from him. He placed the larva brusquely back in the cruise box, handling it now with an objective expediency.

The larva rustled in the darkness, then squirmed up the side of the cruise box, its thin antennae bobbing ever so slightly as its head broke into the light.

Derek watched it for a moment, as if resisting the impulse to rest his hand on its head. He snapped Diego a quick nod on his way out of the tent.