Minutes to Burn

by Gregg Hurwitz

  "Roll out, Szabla," he snarled. He did not look over at her.

  She lingered for a moment by Derek, clearly wanting to say some-thing else, but he didn't acknowledge her, not even when she jerked her neck to the side to crack it. Justin waited patiently at the brink of the foliage. When she finally came, he let her take point.

  Derek and Cameron stood alone in the clearing, dusk spreading the shadows around them into planes of black. The ground rumbled slightly, but the movement didn't escalate into a full-blown earthquake. Derek didn't even seem to notice.

  "You all right, Derek?" she asked.

  "Fine," he said sharply, still averting his eyes. "I'm gonna bust Sav-age's ass if he touches another baby."

  Cameron drew her lips together and out, concerned. She had shared Derek's visceral reaction watching the thing die on the ground, but Derek seemed to be slipping down the slope of his emotions.

  She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "It's not a baby, Derek."

  His laugh was empty. "No shit. I didn't call it a baby."

  They stood there dumbly with the whistle of the wind through the trees and the calls of strange animals all around them. Cameron watched a star spider make its way up a mossy log. She cleared her throat uncom-fortably. "Look, Derek, I know this must be hard, in light of-"

  "You don't know anything, all right?" Derek said gruffly. He turned away from her, clenching his jaw. "Let's go."

  Cameron took note of the pulse beating in his temple before turning and starting the trek back to camp, her canteen bouncing against her hip like a trophy kill.

  Chapter 41

  Tucker and Savage stopped for a moment to rehydrate in the darkness, the smell of dampness lingering in the air. Tucker broke the long-standing silence by clearing his throat. Savage watched him expectantly. "Everything has a name back home," Tucker said. "Streets, house num-bers. You can always say where you're going, where you been. Not here. Just trees and dirt and hills. You could lose track of yourself here."

  Savage scratched his beard, fingers losing themselves in tangles of hair. "Or find yourself." He worked his cheek between his teeth, shifting his jaw and feeling the flesh roll between his molars. "Your LT-he's not standing firm right now."

  Tucker did not respond.

  "What's all that shit you guys were talking about at the briefing back in Sac? About something he went through?"

  "Derek's been a soldier for a long time," Tucker said.

  "Doesn't matter. I seen veterans suddenly lose their killing nerve one day and…" Savage drew a finger across his neck and made a slicing sound. "Can happen to anyone, anywhere. Saw it all the time in Nam. Good buddy of mine went into a village, bayoneted some old bitch. Kept him up nights, thought she looked like his grandma back home. Next day he got the shakes, starting in his hands, spreading up his arms. His fire team takes a walk through a village, stumbles in on six Charlies in a hut, my buddy freezes up, couldn't pull the trigger. Lost the whole team, except one man."

  "Sounds like a bit of a war story," Tucker said derisively.

  "Don't it, though?" Savage replied quietly. He pursed his lips. "But it happened."

  "How do you know?"

  Savage looked away. "I was the one man."

  He walked off into the woods, and after a moment, Tucker followed. The quiet encroached on them. Every sound magnified-the crunch of leaves underfoot, the sighing of the wind through the branches, the strange cackling calls of the petrels.

  They reached a stretch of forest where a fault had rent the ground, engendering a constellation of smaller cracks. Trees protruded from the earth at strange angles, struggling to keep hold of the crooked rock beneath them, the last few feet of their tops turning straight up. Clumps of browning Spanish moss dangled over the branches like dead rats.

  Savage glided across the fallen trees, the upthrust blocks of stone, the cracks in the earth that seemed to stretch down all the way to hell. Tucker's steps were unsteady in the gloom. At one point, he nearly lost his footing at the edge of a rift, but Savage was there instantly, a firm hand on his arm to pull him back. As abruptly as the disrupted section of land began, it ended, fading into vines and leafy domes.

  The night was jet black, as though the moon had simply vanished. It was raining again, not hard rain like last night, but a soft misting through the air. Szabla and Justin had been walking for hours. It seemed that all the large masses of rock they'd located were either cracked, or dangerously near a cliff or fissure. Having stripped off her cammy shirt, Szabla cut through the foliage in her tank top. It clung wetly to her breasts and stomach, and when she ran a hand across the ridge of her clavicle, it came away slick with moisture.

  A length of snake draped across a fallen tree limb, brown with yellow flecks. She pointed at it to alert Justin and kept moving. Mating dragon-flies zoomed dangerously, coupling briefly and separating to dodge tree trunks. She remembered hearing about birds that mate in a midair dive, sometimes rocketing to their death because they can't break off the act. She glanced behind her, checking Justin's position. Turning her mouth to her shoulder, she muttered into the transmitter, "Murphy. Primary channel."

  Tucker activated his transmitter, grinning when he heard Szabla. "We're secure."

  Her voice came through with exceptional clarity, as if she were standing right beside him. "This shit's making me nervous," she said in a hoarse whisper. "Have you noticed the look in Derek's eyes? Like he's a few bulbs short of a full string."

  Some dirt had collected under Tucker's Iron Man watch, and he dug it out with his pinkie. He snapped a stick off a tree and used it to lop a frond off a plant. Savage was a good twenty-five feet behind him, out of earshot. "I don't know," Tucker replied. "He is the LT."

  "He sure as hell's not acting like one. He's acting like the scientists' fuckboy. I spoke with Mako earlier. Private conversation. He was con-cerned but political. I'm thinking the rest of us should round up. Have a chat."

  "What'd Cam say?"

  "What the fuck does it matter what Cam says?"

  "Well, maybe we could-"

  "Don't move," Savage growled.

  Though Savage had startled the hell out of him, Tucker froze. Savage stood about five feet to his left in the shadow beneath the dipping bough of a tree. Tucker hadn't seen him come up on him; he'd just heard a voice issuing from a patch of darkness.

  Tucker was vulnerable from three sides, shadows all around him. He sensed a presence right beside him, the darkness shaping itself into something rudimentary and lifelike. Panic flickered through his eyes as he slowly turned his head to get his bearings. He tightened his grip on the stick.

  "Tucker?" Szabla's voice crackled through the transmitter. "You there?"

  The connection was breaking up with the rain, and Tucker prayed it would go dead. He'd have to speak to deactivate the transmitter, but he knew not to make a sound. Lips trembling, he tried to shush Szabla, but the air seemed to stick in his throat.

  He hadn't moved an inch, not since Savage had spoken. His foot was raised mid-step, poised about four inches above the ground. A roll of thunder filled the air. Sweat beaded across his forehead.

  "Not an inch," Savage hissed. "Don't even exhale."

  Because it was supporting all his weight, Tucker's left leg started to quiver, ever so slightly, in the thigh. He flexed it and it stilled. More rain swept to his face and he blinked against it, fighting the water out of his eyes. His hand was white-knuckled around the branch. Some mud slid from the bottom of his raised boot and slopped to the ground.

  A flash of lightning lit the air, and he saw dangling beside and above him the enormous creature, not more than an arm's length to his right. She swayed upside down from the branch of a tree, blending in almost perfectly with the fluctuating foliage all around her. Her forelegs were folded, as if in prayer, her wide wings pulled in tight across her back. If she weren't right next to him, he wouldn't have even seen her among the branches, twigs, and leaves.

  Normally a greenish-tan, th
e creature's eyes had turned black for the night. Set in a triangle between them were the ocelli, three smaller eyes used only to distinguish the degree of light. They glimmered like pearls beneath the arc of her antennae. The hooks on the ends of her legs were clamped shut around a wide Scalesia branch about fifteen feet above the ground; it creaked when she swayed.

  Tucker turned his head with excruciating slowness and looked into her face. Her front antennae vibrated in the breeze, her mouthparts quivering, and for an instant, Tucker caught his own frightened reflection in her black eyes.

  Szabla's voice cut back in sharply. "-next in command. I'm thinking we could use a little leadership-" Tucker jerked ever so slightly, and the creature's antennae snapped erect at the movement. His nostrils flared, his chest jerked with a quick intake of air.

  The strike was so quick Savage couldn't even see it. The raptorial legs flashed out, folding over themselves and crushing Tucker within them. Tucker screamed as the spikes dug through his flesh, almost scissoring him in two. His arm was pinned to his side. The strike took three hun-dredths of a second.

  Tucker's stick tumbled to the ground.

  The creature dropped from the branch, landing expertly on her legs while not relinquishing her hold on Tucker. Her frightful head lowered to the back of Tucker's neck, the mouth spreading wide, a collection of living tools.

  Savage charged the creature, swinging his knife at the prothorax. The blade glanced off the hard waxy exoskeleton, unable to dig into the smooth surface. Though the blow didn't puncture her cuticle, the crea-ture swayed back with its force. Tucker's free arm flailed, his hand fisting the air as he screamed. Savage grabbed his arm and pulled, though he knew the thing had him wrapped up too tight. Blood spurted from Tucker's mouth, spilling over his chin.

  The creature would have struck Savage were her raptorial legs not wrapped around Tucker's body. She flung Tucker to the ground and low-ered herself swiftly, standing territorially over his body.

  Savage staggered back. Beneath the creature's abdomen, Tucker squirmed in the leaves. The creature spread her mouth, though no sound issued forth. Then air hissed from her spiracles, forcing Savage back another step.

  A stream of blood ran down one of Tucker's arms, stark red against his white flesh. Savage could hear him rasping through a punctured lung. He was lost. There was no way he was going to pull through.

  But it was in Savage's blood to stand ground when there was a com-rade down. He stepped back farther out of the creature's range and reverse-gripped the knife with the blade running down along his fore-arm, sharp edge out, ready to punch. The creature tilted her head, watching him curiously. It was night all around them, but in the lightning he could see the rain running off her sides. Her mouth opened in another silent roar, a maw of mandibles, maxillae, and labrum, and she drew her-self up to her full nine feet. Behind her, her abdomen and wings stretched back, thick and firm, like a horse's body. Though Savage was across the clearing from her, she seemed to tower over him.

  She gave a startle display, spreading her wings and rearing up on her hind legs, filling the entire space between the trees and revealing two eye-like markings on the insides of her front legs. The upper part of her abdomen scraped against her underwings, producing a harsh hissing. She lowered herself, then stepped deliberately back behind Tucker's body and struck him with her front legs, knocking him a few feet across the ground. He howled, more in fear than pain, and tried to struggle away. His intestines were spilled on the ground beside him, and one of his hands was trying to scoop them back inside his body as the other clawed him forward.

  Savage was frozen with indecision, unable to venture within range of the thing without being killed but desperately wanting to get his hands on it. He hoped for Tucker to pass out. But Tucker had never passed out, not from pain or panic. He kept moving, clawing and scooping like a wind-up toy running out of steam.

  The creature's raptorial legs flashed out again, snatching Tucker off the ground and curling his body in toward her face. He screamed as the mouth approached him. The mandibles cut into the back of his neck and then he went limp in her front legs, twitching.

  Savage and the creature watched each other as she ate.

  She chewed with her mandibles, holding and manipulating chunks of flesh with her maxillae. Tucker's head rolled off and struck the ground with a thud. The creature made no effort to pick it up.

  Savage watched one of Tucker's arms go down, the elbow sticking out of the preoral cavity. Despite her strong cutting jaws, the creature was a messy eater. It was not a pleasant meal to see consumed in any event, but the image of Tucker's various parts protruding from the crea-ture's mouth was sickening.

  Savage crouched and glared at the creature, wiping the rain from his eyes with a swipe of his arm. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill you," he whispered, almost lovingly.

  The creature paused, as if she had heard him. She lowered her head, tearing a thick band of meat from Tucker's flank, and when she looked up, Savage was gone.

  Chapter 42

  Cameron jerked to her feet when she heard something crash through the brush at the edge of the forest. They all squared defensively until Savage's figure cut from the dark, charging toward them.

  "Where the fuck were you?" Derek yelled. "You're over an hour late and we couldn't transmit to Tucker. Szabla said his transmitter just cut out."

  Savage didn't answer as he neared the circle of logs, his eyes steeled on Szabla.

  "Where's Tucker?" Cameron asked, concern coloring her voice.

  Without slowing, Savage passed the fire pit and seized Szabla's under-shirt around the thin arm straps. He tore the straps forcefully to the sides, ripping the shirt down the middle and exposing her breasts. He towered over her, his knee pushed tight between her legs on the log as she leaned back. Before anyone could reach him, his knife was out of the sheath and pointing at the small raised circle of her transmitter. Cameron and Derek were tense on their feet, ready to pounce on Savage if the opportunity arose.

  "This is not a fucking toy!" Savage yelled. "Fuck!" He stepped back and threw the blade hard at the log. It stuck deep. Tank was between him and Szabla in a flash, but Savage didn't make another move toward her. He yanked the bandanna off and ran his fingers through his hair, grab-bing the back in a ponytail before throwing his hand off to the side. "He's gone. He's fucking dead."

  Mouth ajar, eyes glassy, Szabla sat dumbfounded on the log, making no effort to cover herself. In the silence that ensued, Cameron walked over and pulled Szabla's shirt back up. She stood in front of Savage and raised her face to his. "What happened?"

  "He got eaten. By this huge fucking thing. With snapping front legs. Like… almost like a praying mantis."

  Derek snorted. A strange expression worked its way across Rex's face, then vanished. He turned to Diego and something passed between them. Cameron's stomach turned over once, as it sometimes did just before she vomited.

  "What are you talking about, Savage?" Justin said. "Where the fuck is Tucker?"

  "It was swinging upside down like a fucking bat and it grabbed him in those legs, clamped down on him like a bear trap." He shook his head. "You shoulda heard him screaming."

  Cameron sat down heavily. "Is this a fucking joke?" Derek asked.

  Justin's breathing was so shallow it sounded like panting. Szabla dipped her head, running a hand across the back of her neck, her nails leaving red streaks. She murmured something in a low whisper. They stood for a few moments in silence, breathing together. Savage glared at them expectantly.

  "Fuck this," Justin finally said. "Fuck this."

  "Calm down, Justin," Derek said. "We don't really know what's going on here."

  "What the fuck do you mean we don't know what's going on?" Savage yelled. "I just told you there's a mammoth fucking creature on the loose. Nine feet tall and just as long. We have to kill that motherfucker."

  He stripped off his shirt and flung it to the side. His body gleamed with sweat. "We gotta kill the larvae. The
y're its offspring. We got one in the tent and four more in the forest." Savage held up three fingers at first but got the fourth one up quickly. "We gotta get to them before they transform."

  "I am not standing by while you attempt to exterminate a species," Diego said. "So don't even think about it."

  "Nothing's transforming," Derek said wearily. "And we don't know that these larvae or the egg sac have anything to do with what you saw. We don't even know what you saw. The worst thing we can do is jump to conclusions."

  "We don't have time not to jump to conclusions."

  Cameron spoke in an uncharacteristically low voice. "He may be right, Derek."

  Derek shot her a glare reserved for liars and traitors. She recoiled from it.

  Savage threw his arms out to his sides in frustration. "They teach you this in leadership school, champ? You've been a whole lot of indecision since we landed here."

  For a moment, Cameron thought Derek might charge Savage. He was clenching his jaw, the corners of his cheeks flexed out in points. His voice was calm, but there was an element of lunacy hidden in it. "You weren't getting along so good with Tucker, were you, Savage?" Derek asked.

  Savage froze. He glowered across the fire at Derek, his beard bristling as his mouth worked noiselessly on words. When he finally spoke, his voice was so close to a growl the words all rushed together. "I would love nothing more than to slit your throat and paint my face with your blood."

  "Having some problems with him, you're a little loose around the pegs to begin with, maybe you slipped and your knife got stuck in him. Seems a bit more likely than a nine-foot mantis, doesn't it?" Derek jabbed a finger in Savage's direction, his upper lip curled into a snarl. "You'd better fucking pray you didn't touch him."

  Szabla still had not spoken. A spot on her right cheek was quivering like crazy even though she wasn't close to crying. She was never close to crying. Tank sat quietly, digging a stick in the dirt.

  "Let's go," Cameron said. "Let's run a recon, see if we can find Tucker." She caught Savage's eye. "Or recover his body."