Minutes to Burn (2001) (38 page)

Rex pursed his lips. "We don't. They look normal under a standard lens, but we can't definitively determine whether they're infected without running a gel, and we don't have the equipment here. But we do know that they were infected two months ago when Frank pulled the samples and had them shipped to us."

Diego handed him back the jar. "But we don't even know what the virus does to begin with. It could merely be a plant virus. You're com-pletely hypothesizing."

"A new virus appears on the same island we discover a massive living aberration... I just can't help thinking they've got to be linked, either through direct or shared causation."

Diego shook his head. "This animal could be an ordinary mutation."

Cameron looked at the jagged moons of the mantid's mandibles, flickering darkly in the firelight.

"I don't know about that," Rex said.

"Why not?" Diego looked up, his eyes alight. "Evolution doesn't progress slowly and evenly--it progresses in sudden and giant leaps. The Cambrian Explosion, the Permian and Cretaceous Extinctions--all blinks of the eye." He paused, pulling his hair back to band his ponytail more tightly. "Think of the reptiles dying out during the Mesozoic Period, the graptolite's rapid decline after the Ordovician Period, the sudden evolution of complex Metazoa. The fossil record has always shown punctuated equilibrium--mass extinction and abrupt origina
tion
." He pointed to the mantid corpse. "Speciation like this can take place in a geological instant."

Cameron looked over at Rex, unsure of what to make of Diego's sud-den tirade. Rex cleared his throat before speaking. "A geological instant is hundreds of thousands of years."

Diego looked down at his pants, stained with mud and torn at one knee. "Well, it just got shorter."

A piece of charred wood collapsed in the fire, startling them both. Diego crouched over the dead, slumped mantid. He reached out and stroked the waxy cuticle covering the abdomen. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Rex nodded. "Beautiful, yes. And fearful."

A whistle from the darkness indicated Szabla and Justin's return. A few seconds later, Justin stepped into the light, carrying a shovel. A length of rope looped over one shoulder, Szabla appeared next. A ham-mer protruded from her back pocket.

"That's it?" Tank asked.

"The farmers took most of their shit with them when they left, espe-cially their tools," Szabla said. "There's no gasoline anywhere, or oil, and the machines seem to be on empty."

"The supply ship," Diego said. "It stopped coming months ago."

"Well, what do we have?" Cameron asked.

Justin cleared his throat ceremoniously. "Four chainsaws, one with a snapped guide bar, a tiller with a burned-out motor, what looks like a broken-down ribbing plow from 1902--"

"Equipment the Norwegians left years ago," Diego said. "Useless."

"--six empty gasoline cans, plenty of rope, one enormous purse seine with a three-foot tear, loose concrete blocks from the houses, four wheelbarrows, a hammer, two Phillips-head screwdrivers, a burnt frying pan, a case of fishing hooks, a flat-edged hoe snapped in half, a length of hose, a trowel, and Ramon has an ax that he wisely elected to keep." He shook his head. "The generator is out--appears to be totally useless."

"Is there gas in the tiller we could siphon for the chainsaws?" Cameron asked.

"Not a drop."

"Insecticides?" Tank asked.

Szabla snickered. "Yeah, there was an eight-foot bottle of Raid, but we left that behind." She looked down at the jars, still arrayed in a line. "What's up with that?"

"Rex thinks there's some kind of virus on the island," Cameron said. "Maybe affected the animal life."

"Well, I'd say we're not in great shape," Szabla said. "Mostly useless shit left behind. Right now, the GPS spikes are our best bet for weapons. Can't see troweling one of these motherfuckers to death." She tilted her head, cracking her neck. "I say we take cautionary steps."

They all slowly turned their eyes to the larva. Its abdominal segments contracted, pushing it upward in the middle. It squirmed forward, fleshy prolegs pulsing, true legs rasping against the grass. It stopped when it touched Derek, wedging itself against his leg and the ground, and stilling.

Szabla stood up and walked over, twirling the spike around her hand. She threw it at the soft ground a few feet from the larva and it stuck like a javelin. She looked from the larva to Derek, her implication clear.

Derek's face was wan in the firelight. "You heard our orders."

"We're gonna take those orders to the grave," Szabla said.

"That's one of the responsibilities of being a soldier, Szabla," Cameron said. "If you don't like it, you can go home and bake cookies."

"Soldiers have no obligation to die pointlessly. They have an obliga
tion
to follow mission-relevant orders."

"You have an obligation to follow all orders," Derek said.

Szabla tilted her head back, her nostrils flaring as she tried to calm herself.

Rex stood up, the usual expression of arrogance missing from his face. "I just wish we could get into Frank's specimen freezer. It might give us some answers."

Savage stood from his seat on the log and stepped over the edge of the fire toward the scientists, the flames licking at the back of his pants. He rocked the Death Wind back and forth along his palm with his thumb. Rex rose defensively.

Savage reached into one of his pockets and pulled out Tucker's ther-mite grenade, the one the mantid had regurgitated.

"Well, gents," he said, "today might be your lucky day."

Chapter
46

T
hey were at the aluminum specimen freezer in minutes. The breeze was moist against their faces, mixing with their sweat. The freezer stood before them, unchanged and unyielding against the wind-fanned grass.

They circled it as if it were a shrine, Derek pressing the larva to his side.

Savage tossed the thermite grenade to Cameron, who pulled the pin and rested it atop the thick shoe box-sized lock that protruded just beneath the handle. She was angry with herself for not remembering Tucker's grenade earlier--he always brought it with him on missions, nestled in the cargo pocket of his pants. His good-luck charm.

It took a while for the chemicals to mix, then the grenade emitted an intense white flame, like a welder's arc. They looked away as it melted down into the lock. There was no need to guide it through the metal, and the entire lock fell to the ground with the still-burning thermite.

The heavy door creaked open a crack, then sucked shut again.

The grenade kept melting right through the grass, and Derek kicked aside what was left of the lock and covered the grenade with dirt. Diego shook his head but said nothing. Derek reached for the thin metal han-dle and the door swung open to meet his hand. He turned and looked at the others for a moment before pulling it open.

"Lantern," he said.

Szabla stepped forward, the hurricane lamp dangling from her hand. As it swayed, it threw Derek's shadow across the door, oversize and dis-torted against the silver surface.

He pulled the door open, and they were greeted with the familiar smell of unliving flesh. Eight gnarled little bodies swung on specimen hooks, underlit by the hurricane lamp so they threw sinister patterns through the freezer. They were all close to three feet long, green, and contorted as if they'd been in great pain when they were slaughtered. Aside from that, none of them looked anything like the others.

A button on the compressor in the back cast a wan glow, pale like moonlight. The breeze shook and twirled the bodies like wind chimes.

The soldiers and scientists moved among them, looking up in revul-sion. One creature had a massive jaw shaped like a shovel and a scattering of eyes across its forehead; another had the vulgar hunch and primitive brow of a chimpanzee. The body farthest away had eight furry legs protruding from its midsection, and its shadow was framed per-fectly on the back wall of the freezer. Its body was that of an enormous spider, its head something between a canine and primate.

"Jesus H," Rex whispered. "It's like a Lariam nightmare."

The larva cooed, squirming in Derek's arms. In the far corner, a tan-gle of hooks lay on the floor.

The wind pivoted one of the bodies and its leg struck Szabla in the back of the head. She grabbed it without flinching and turned the body to examine its front side. It had the smooth slender belly of a lizard, curling back into a tail that, due to rigor mortis, ran parallel up its scaled back. The face had the broad snout and yellow teeth of a crocodile, and an iguana's pouchlike cheeks.

Behind Szabla, Justin shuddered.

The inside of the door had a heavy bolt that allowed collectors to lock themselves in in case predators were drawn to the scent while they loaded specimens. With slight maneuvering, the bolt could be disen-gaged and removed.

Tank pulled the bolt free from the door and held it by his side. It was thicker and heavier than the spikes; it would make a better weapon.

The hurricane lamp continued to cast lunatic shadows all across the constrictive walls and ceiling--dangling limbs, paws split in fingers, heads enlarged and misshapen. The soldiers' faces were drawn and bloodless among the beasts, which dangled among them like repulsive mobiles.

"If these manifestations are due to a virus,it's unlike anything I've..." Rex's voice trailed off. Diego's jaw had literally dropped; he gazed at the new creatures around him with a wonder bordering on disbelief.

Of the hung hooks, one was empty. Thick and barbed like a meat hook, it scraped against the far side of the freezer, metal on metal. The sound resonated within the bare freezer walls until Cameron grabbed it, holding it above her head like a subway strap.

She turned to face the others beneath the small dangling bodies, her neck flushed all the way down to the line of her breasts. She could only remember being this stunned once before--when she'd opened her rifle case and found the engagement ring Justin had hidden there for her.

"There were close to two hundred fifty chambers in the ootheca Frank found," Rex said, his voice hushed from fear or reverence. "Every one filled with a mutant--a new prototype. Of those two hundred fifty, only ten stood a legitimate shot at hatching." His breath caught in his throat. "'Ten viable.' That's what Frank wrote. Here are eight of them."

Diego laughed, a choke deep in his throat. "Look at the variation-- it's incredible. Something caused the parents to breed all different off-spring. Adaptive radiation in a single generation, of a single brood. It's like a genetic brainstorm."

"Or a genetic nervous breakdown," Szabla added.

"What's that accomplish?" Justin asked. "Aside from scaring the shit out of me?"

"If they all mutated the same way, it would be a case of the genes put-ting all their chips on one number," Diego said. "Having different off-spring raises the odds considerably that one of them will take to the environment, or find a way to survive."

"Or two," Szabla said, counting the eight bodies again.

"Or two of the offspring. Exactly."

"How could they mate if they were so different?" Derek asked skepti-cally, looking at the bodies in the air all around him.

"I'd guess that those with the capacity to metamorphose do so into adult mantids like the one Savage killed," Rex said. "They only look dif-ferent in the early stages."

"I still don't get it," Cameron said, noticing that Derek was cradling the larva to his chest protectively. "The larvae are so much smaller than that thing that killed Tucker."

"Insects do have the capacity to increase over a hundredfold in size from birth."

Diego shot Rex a sideways look. "It's not an insect," he said. "Even if we are referring to it as a mantid."

"So given that you people are all such tree huggers," Szabla said, "why do you think Frank hunted these eight down and killed them?"

"I can't imagine," Rex said.

"He must have realized they were a threat to him, a threat to the peo-ple on this island," Justin said.

Something dripped from one of the corpse's legs. Cameron ran a hand lightly over her head to make sure nothing had landed in her hair.

Rex snapped his fingers. "In Frank's notebook, he tallied a nine count, meaning, I think, that he'd located nine of the ten offspring that had hatched and made it into the wilderness." His eyes clouded. "He must have kept one alive to observe, and it mated with the tenth one that he didn't find."

"So, the million-dollar question is: What did the one he kept look like?" Szabla asked, eyeing the empty hook over by Cameron. "Why did he keep it alive?"

The freezer door banged loudly behind them with the wind and they all jumped, the air thick with bodies. The larva cooed and squirmed in Derek's arms. When the door swung open again, they could see Savage's silhouette crouching just outside on the grass. They watched him through the corpses. Steam rose off his body in the mist.

"Why did God make puppies cute?" his outline grumbled.

They watched him expectantly.