His yell echoed back to them from the walls of the lagoon. Cameron pulled him to her side speechlessly as the larva lowered itself flat to the ground again. It inched forward and Cameron and Derek stepped back.
Diego was scrambling up the slope of the lagoon, calling out, but they were transfixed by the strange creature before them and couldn't respond. Cameron wiped the sweat from her face with a sleeve, her cheeks raw, sunburnt, and trembling.
Panting, Diego reached Derek's side and leaned over, hands resting on his knees. When he saw the larva, he inhaled sharply. He stepped back, tears rising to his eyes. The larva inched forward again, prolegs squirming to find holds in the ground, and Diego stepped forward cau-tiously, leaning over it but ready to spring back at the slightest indication of danger.
Cameron grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back. "Let's just take this slow," she said through clenched teeth. Her chest was heaving beneath her top. "Let's just take this slow," she repeated, more for her benefit than for Diego and Derek's.
Diego stepped around the larva, pointing at the bushes. A thin path had been cleared; the larva had literally eaten its way through the dense underbrush. "Hay Maria Santisima," Diego said. "Its consumption is extraordinary."
"What the fuck is it?" Derek asked, his voice wavering. He rocked a little on his feet.
Diego leaned forward again, mumbling as if to himself. "An arthro-pod of some sort, probably an insect. Eruciform larva, a caterpillar, maybe. Distinct head, aristate antennae, three pairs of true legs off the thorax, multi-segmented abdomen." He reached out a hand but drew it back quickly when the larva's head turned to track its motion. "!Cono la puta madre!"
Cameron could not tear her eyes from the thing's head. The wide saucers of the eyes connoted an innocence and gentleness she had seen before only in mammals. The cooing sound issued from the larva again, a soft click moving beneath the surface of the sound.
"Impossible," Diego said. "Insects have no lungs, no vocal cords. They only make stridulating noises, from rubbing their legs or wings together. It must be pushing air through its cuticle, or scraping its seg-ments together. It must be... " He stared at the larva's open mouth, the sturdy stocks of the mandibles.
"It's soothing," Derek said. "The noise."
"It has holes in its sides," Cameron said, pointing to the oblong spiracle openings, one on each side of each abdominal segment. "Maybe the air's coming through those."
She yanked a thorn tree up by its roots, protecting her hand with her shirt. Holding the bottom toward the larva, she shook it before its face. The larva's head moved slightly side to side as it eyed the dangling roots. Its segments seemed to contract and then spring, launching its head toward the thorn tree. It got its mouth around the base of the thin trunk and began munching. Cameron watched in amazement, the larva pulling its front segments up off the ground as it ate its way up the stalk toward her hands. She released the tree before the larva got too close. It finished the trunk on the ground, then looked at her again.
"Is it dangerous?" Cameron asked. "It looks kind of ...I don't know..."
"Personable?" Diego offered.
"Something like that."
Diego reached out a hand and touched its terminal segment. "I don't know. I've never seen anything like it. But it doesn't have stingers, claws, or spines, and there's no warning coloration. Its mandibles are strong, but that's common in larvae. It has glands posterior to its labial mouth-parts, probably to expel silk for a pupation chamber. It appears to be herbivorous, but it might be an opportunistic carnivore. The size is alarming, but I'd guess it's not danger--"
The larva turned its head in response to his hand, and he pulled his arm quickly back out of reach.
"Convincing, Doc," Derek said. "Real convincing."
"Will it metamorphose?" Cameron asked.
"I would guess so," Diego replied. "It is distinctly larval. Maybe a large butterfly, or..."
"A tree monster?" Cameron finished. They all watched the larva for a few moments. "Do you think there are others?" she asked.
Diego shrugged, nodded, shook his head. "I have no idea. I've just never...I've never. I suppose there could be just this one, but I have to believe that it's a species of sorts, that it has a . . . that there are others. But we can't take a chance...if we never see it again, it could be...could be tragic...an opportunity like this..." He slid his lip to one side, chewing it.
"What are we going to do with it?" Cameron asked.
Diego rose from his crouch and scratched his head, his elbow pointing out like a flag. "I don't want to move it, but if we leave it, we could easily lose track of it. And even though we haven't seen any, there could still be feral dogs roaming the island. It could get killed. We need to make sure we at least have an opportunity to examine it. We could return it afterward, right where we found it." He looked at them sheepishly, as if waiting to be contradicted.
Finally, Cameron glanced over at Derek. "Do you think it'll fit in your bag?"
The others' faces reflected Cameron's thoughts. Tank, Rex, Tucker, Sav-age, and Szabla sat on the logs near the fire pit, flabbergasted. The larva crawled on the soft grass to the side of Derek's tent, and Diego stood over it, guiding it back toward the circle of logs. Derek stood, ghost-white and gaunt, staring into the dark stretch of the forest to the north.
"You gotta be shittin' me," Savage said.
Tucker cleared his throat loudly, bringing up a mouthful of phlegm. "There's no way."
Tank stood up, then sat back down. "Fuck," he said.
"What the...I don't...What is...I'm a..." Szabla stopped, evidently realizing she wasn't making any headway. She was deeply flushed.
"Kinda cute, ain't it?" Cameron asked.
Placing his hands on the larva's back safely behind the head, Diego elevated it slightly. Its prolegs wiggled in the air, searching for a hold. Cameron laughed and Tank couldn't help smiling. He walked over to the cruise box that had filled with rain and splashed some water over his face.
"We found it at the fringe of the arid zone," Diego said. "It's partial to shade, so it's probably disposed to the forest. The cuticle seems more papery and fragile at the back of the thorax--probably UV damage. My guess would be it worked its way down from the forest under cover of the palo santos."
"If its straying so far from the forest is anomalous," Rex said. "What was it doing?"
Diego didn't have an answer. The larva stopped squirming momen-tarily, regarding Derek's boot with an almost human curiosity.
"Should we name it?" Cameron asked, only half joking.
"Why all this ha-ha-look-how-cute-shit?" Szabla said, regaining her composure. "That thing could be dangerous. It could be whatever all this shit is about--all these superstitions. Could be what took out that scientist friend of Rex's."
"He wasn't my friend," Rex said slowly, still spellbound by the larva. It rippled forward over the grass, using the stumps of its prolegs for traction. It gazed up with its oversize eyes, its mouth working as if it were chewing something.
"I hardly think this thing is capable of killing a human being," Derek said. "We don't even have evidence that anything's actually happened here. No proof. Only stories. Even that guy with the ax--"
"Ramon," Cameron said.
"Yeah, Ramon. Even he couldn't show us anything concrete."
"So it's just a coincidence that weird shit is going on here, people are disappearing, and we discover this Caterpillar-That-Ate-New-York-City motherfucker?" Szabla said.
Diego cleared his throat and started to speak. "I don't think--"
"Plus it'll metamorphose," Szabla continued. "Could hatch God-fuckin'-zilla all we know."
"And we have an obligation to see that it does metamorphose," Diego said.
"Maybe it's an alien," Tucker said. "Or from the inner earth or some-thing. Up through the earthquake cracks."
"Or maybe there was a radioactive spill somewhere," Szabla said, raising her hands and wiggling her fingers. She snorted. "This isn't T
hem."
Rex pressed his lips together, suppressing a smile. "I'd guess it's a mutation or an entirely new species."
"Big fuckin' mutation," Savage said.
Rex shrugged. "With the state of the ozone layer, who knows? Life on this planet has evolved over hundreds of thousands of years to function successfully within specific parameters of solar radiation. When those parameters are drastically altered, it's a DNA free-for-all." He coughed once into a fist. "The larva's size indicates some kind of hydro-static skeleton. Without one, it would collapse into a formless puddle."
"How can that be?" Diego asked. "An internal skeleton?"
"Look at the size of it," Rex said. "How can it not be? It also must have an advanced respiratory system, some kind of mutated breathing apparatus. It could never have grown to this size relying entirely on tra-cheae to attain oxygen. Maybe primitive membranous lungs?" He glanced nervously at the three gills quivering behind the head of the larva.
"How do you know this shit?" Tucker asked. "All of a sudden, you're the Professor from Gilligan's Island."
"You forget, big boy, I'm an ecotectonicist. Though I happen to loathe the life sciences, I am extensively trained in them." Rex flashed a quick, insincere smile. "I know everything."
Savage rose, picking up a stick and stepping toward the larva. He leaned forward, jabbing at the larva's head. It backed away from him, shaking its head as if it had a bad taste in its mouth.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Diego said, yanking the stick away from Savage.
"Oh. Playing mommy, are you?"
Derek's face was flushed. "Cut the shit, Savage."
"What's with the Florence Nightingale routine? That thing could be dangerous."
"My point," Szabla said. "My point exactly."
Diego spoke to Szabla in an even, steady voice. "Larvae represent the feeding stage of an insect's development. The weight and size increase is usually confined to this part of the cycle. You know it can't hatch some-thing inordinately larger than itself. You know there are rules."
When Szabla looked up, the intensity in her eyes was startling. "That's a three-foot-long insect." She pointed at the larva, which had curled up in a ball, burying its small head beneath the coils of its body. "Don't talk to me about rules."
"Loathe as I am to admit it," Rex said. "She does have a point. This phenomenon, scientifically speaking, breaks all the rules. Insects don't grow to this size. All assumptions have to shift, including those about its harmlessness or menace." The brim of his Panama was low, almost hiding his eyes. "This must've been what Frank got himself into before he disappeared. But why a sketch of a mantid? Mantids are hemimetabolous."
"Translation?" Tank said.
"They don't undergo a complete metamorphosis. They don't have a stage of development that looks like this."
"What are we gonna do with it?" Szabla asked. "I don't want it sleeping near me."
Savage flipped his Death Wind around his hand and caught it by the handle. "That thing comes near me, I'm skinning it," he said. "Science be fucked."
"That's my call to make," Derek said. "And our orders are to assist Rex."
"So?" Szabla looked at Derek. "This isn't part of his survey."
"It is now," Rex said softly.
Diego shook his head with disgust, glaring at Szabla. "Could you really be so shortsighted as to--"
"Shortsighted?! I am a soldier first and foremost, and I'll be god-damned if I'm gonna sit by while you bring a potentially dangerous crea-ture into my base camp!"
"Your base camp?" Cameron asked. She glanced over at Derek, but his eyes were far away.
Tank stood up, spreading his arms wide to try to calm everyone.
"This is a wonder of nature," Diego said. He angrily readjusted the band that held his ponytail.
"Then don't mind me wondering," Szabla said. She charged forward, knocking Diego to the side. Placing her foot on the larva's back, she pinned it wriggling to the ground. It hissed as air leaked through its spir-acles.
Rex came up off the log. "Don't you dare handle it!"
"Sit down, Szabla," Derek mumbled.
Szabla palmed the top of the larva's head, yanking it back until its mouth spread. Tucker and Tank looked at each other uncomfortably as Szabla peered inside, checking out its mandibles.
Derek stepped forward, yelling. "I told you to sit the fuck down!"
Szabla started to say something and Derek shot out a hand, grabbing her around the throat and yanking her off the larva. She grabbed his wrist with both hands, choking. The other soldiers stood up, and Rex took a fearful step back.
"Jesus, LT," Tucker said.
Szabla gurgled against Derek's grip as he walked her back over to the log, his arm corded with muscle. The other soldiers froze, unsure how to react. Derek sat her down, his hand still tight around her neck.
Cameron rested a hand gently on Derek's shoulder. "Derek," she said softly. He relaxed his grip, and Szabla gasped for air. Cameron reached out and pulled his hand slowly away from Szabla. His face was drawn and gaunt, fatigue shot through his features. "I am in goddamn com-mand of this outfit, and no one here is to forget that," he growled. He walked a few paces off. The others watched him nervously as Szabla caught her breath. Diego reached to check her throat, but she slapped his hand away.
Derek crouched down and stroked the larva's cuticle. Its flesh was soft, cushioned with a thin scattering of pliant hairs.
"This animal has never before been seen," Rex said, breaking the silence. "We're not letting it go or killing it."
"And why do you make that call?" Szabla asked, her voice a rasp.
"Because it's my mission," Rex said. "You're just along to schlep my gear." Derek said nothing to disagree. Rex caught Diego's eye and Diego nodded at him reassuringly. "We'll keep it the next few days while we fin-ish setting the units," Rex continued. "Then take it back with us to study."
"If we decide to remove it from its habitat," Diego said softly.
Something large crashed through the trees lining the road behind them. Everyone whirled, Savage grabbing for his knife as he turned. He lowered it when he saw Justin high-stepping through the tall grass toward them. Cameron's arm was shaking, and she grabbed it so that no one would notice.
Justin pulled his diving mask off from around his neck and flung it to the ground. He approached with angry steps, his eyes lowered. "God-damnit. It's gone. The bow line must've frayed against the tuff cone in the earthquake. The boat swung into a shelf of submerged lava--the stern line sheered. " He sighed, resting his hands on his hips. His cheeks were flushed, red near-circles that made him look half his age. "The fucking thing floated away."
Chapter 34
Cameron pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead. When she removed them, they left white imprints for a few seconds. Derek spoke into his transmitter, tilting his head to his shoulder. "That's the lay of the land," he concluded. "We have no way back to Baltra. We're gonna need an extraction."
The transmitter crackled, then Mako's disembodied voice came through. "How are you on food and water?"
Derek glanced at one of the cruise boxes, full of MREs and canteens. "About a week."
Justin ran a hand nervously through his dirty blond hair. "I don't like where this is going." Szabla laid a thin finger across her lips.
They sat on the logs around the ashy fire pit. Despite the fact that they'd been constantly applying sunblock, they all showed the early signs of sunburn. Derek stood in the middle, his back to the pit, and Cameron sat on the end of the log nearest the tents, keeping an eye on the larva. For the time being, it had stretched out against the base of the log, resting in the shade.
Diego had set up the PRC104 radio with the whip antenna and was trying to reach the Darwin Station. Though he couldn't speak through the handset, he was keying it so that it would break squelch in Morse, sending an SOS. The odds of someone's overhearing the radio in his office were low, especially since the Station was close to deserted, bu
t he was playing long odds that one of the locals or Ramoncito would hap-pen by.
"Why can't I just radio Puerto Ayora for you?" Mako asked. "Have 'em send a boat?"
"Because," Diego said. "Even if there was another appropriately sized boat, which there isn't, the satellite radio there is broken. There's only a PRC104 with a whip antenna, like this one. It can't pick up signals from the continent, let alone North America."
Mako was silent for a few moments after Derek relayed the infor-mation. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded tinny, distant. "We're chin-deep in shit with skirmishes at the Peruvian border. Don't know when we can get you a helo." His sigh came out angry, even through the transmitter. "You know how we are with air assets right now, Mitchell."
"Yes, sir." Derek grimaced, his pale lips dried and cracked.
"I'll see what I can do."
"Very well, sir."
"First time you called in, you lost your ammo. Now it's the boat and your weapons. Think you can manage not to lose anything else until we speak again?"
Derek cleared his throat, angling his mouth toward the transmitter. "Yes, sir," he said, but Mako had already clicked out.
"Well, that went swimmingly," Rex said. He stood, slapping his hands to his sides. "I need to check in with Donald. Update him."
"How're you gonna do that?" Savage said. "Ain't got no radio."
"I thought...I thought I could use one of your transmitters," Rex said.
Tucker stiffened. "Oh, for Christ's sake," Szabla said, glaring at Tucker. "Grow the fuck up." She yanked the arm of her tank top down off her shoulder, revealing the bump of her transmitter. She turned to Rex. "Come here," she said.
Rex sat beside her, and Szabla activated the transmitter, then had the military operator connect them to the New Center's telephone line. Rex leaned forward to speak into the transmitter, his lips close to Szabla's bare shoulder.
"Rex," Donald said. "I'm glad to hear from you. Got some strange results back from that dino pellet."
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