Facing her across the length of the vesicle, Szabla murmured some-thing beneath her breath, repeating it over and over like a mantra.
The mantid ran a tibia up and across her face, her antennae bristling. Her head rotated smoothly on her slender neck as she focused on Szabla again. She glanced down at the branches covering the hole, then tested one with her lead foot.
"Come on, you motherfucker," Szabla hissed. "Move forward now."
The mantid withdrew her foot and started to circle the hole rather than cross it.
Savage cursed, saliva flying from his mouth. Szabla tested one of the branches with her foot, then put more of her weight on it. She stepped out over the hole, wobbling on her feet to keep her balance. The branches bowed under her weight, stretched nearly to breaking point along the notches Savage had carved with his knife.
The mantid froze, watching Szabla with ravenous curiosity.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Savage growled.
"Live bait."
"What if you don't get off in time?"
"Dead bait."
Escaping air hissed from the mantid's spiracles, nearly scaring Szabla off her feet and into the hole, but she recovered her balance just in time.
"Keep calm," Savage growled. "Keep your movements smooth and slow."
One of the branches started to roll beneath Szabla's foot but she stayed with it, easing her weight down to nestle it back into place.
"Keep it together, Szabla," Savage said, "and get her up onto the trap."
Szabla waved her hands and the mantid darted forward a few steps, thrusting her head forward like a punch. Emitting a half-cry, Szabla stumbled back, almost falling between the branches. The mantid reared up, her front legs spread wide, revealing the eye markings on their insides. The upper part of her abdomen scraped against her underwings, screeching. Szabla swayed on her feet.
"Calm the hell down!" Savage yelled. "She's fucking with you, testing how you move. If you go into that hole, you're finished."
"Come on!" Szabla screamed. She threw her arms wide. "Come get me!" She crouched down, snapped a twig off the branch beneath her feet, and hurled it at the mantid. The twig struck the mantid between her front legs, and she reared up again, spreading her underwings. Her wingspan nearly filled Szabla's field of vision.
Szabla wondered whether Cameron, Justin, and Tank were watching right now, somewhere in the darkness. She stepped back, stammering something to herself, and Savage tried to even her out with his voice. "It's all right. Doesn't matter how big she is if we get her in the hole. Just get her to come forward."
Her raptorial legs raised hungrily, the mantid stepped onto one of the branches veiling the hole. It creaked under her weight. She pulled another leg up, easing forward toward Szabla.
Szabla turned and looked frantically behind her, gauging how far she'd have to jump when the branches started to give. She was standing on the second-to-last branch from the end, the uncovered strip of the hole looming ominously between her and solid ground.
As she glanced back, the mantid stepped forward with one of her back legs, finding and hooking the branch expertly. Her last leg trailed it, and then the mantid was standing with her full weight on the creaking and groaning branches, facing Szabla, her razor jaws mere feet away. Her front legs weren't yet coiled to strike.
"It's gonna give!" Savage said. "Get off!"
"Not yet," Szabla whispered. "Not yet."
The mantid folded her raptorial legs to her chest, pulling them up and readying them to explode. The rows of spikes meshed perfectly, like cogs in a gear. She took another step forward, directly above the explo-sives. With a strangely peaceful expression, she started to sway.
One of the branches cracked, and the mantid sank a few inches, but it didn't give.
"It's perfect!" Savage yelled. "Get the fuck off before it goes!"
Szabla turned to jump, but the last branch rolled under her boot, and in a moment of terror, she felt herself go weightless. Her hands flew up over her head as she fell, and she saw Savage's bearded face in a blur as she dropped into the hole.
She hit the ground hard on her back, breaking one of her elbows and sending pain throbbing through her shoulders and tailbone. She bit back a cry, determined not to make a sound. The earth smelled of clay and rot. It was astoundingly dark, but she could see glimpses of the torch's light between the crisscross pattern of leaves and branches above her, narrow slivers of gold that fell across her arms and face like cuts. The red tissue wrapping of the TNT was visible a few feet away. A broken fern tickled her cheek.
In the middle of the network of branches was an immense dark blot, the underbelly of the creature. The branches started to bow beneath her weight and then one of them cracked, held barely together by bark and pulp. Dirt was pouring in on Szabla from the sides, the ends of the branches digging jagged paths down the loose rock of the walls, and then the veil gave.
With an enormous crash, the branches split, and Szabla rolled flat against the far wall of the hole with the open air above. An explosion of bark, leaves, and dirt filled the air, refusing to settle even after the branches hit earth.
Szabla slumped against the far corner of the hole, her head bent achingly forward. With panicked hands, she wiped the dirt from her eyes and saw the mantid looming over her. The mantid had landed squarely in the vesicle on her four back legs; even so, her head was near the earth's surface. Only Savage's soldier's code stood between Szabla and death; she knew he'd never leave another soldier down.
Savage stepped to the edge of the hole, the Clacker tight in his hand. If he engaged the detonator, the blast would surely kill Szabla as well as the mantid.
In the back of her mind, Szabla could hear Savage screaming for Cameron and Tank, but she knew it wouldn't matter. She knew it was too late.
She saw a flash overhead and Savage was airborne at the thing in a dive, his body a spear ending with the tip of his blade. The mantid turned and batted him like a fly with one armored leg, striking him with the backside of her tibia. A bloody crack opened in his forehead as he flew to the wall, striking it upside down and sliding into a mound of fronds and broken branches. Unconscious, he tumbled forward, one leg sliding over the blocks of TNT.
The mantid whirled back to Szabla, her antennae erect like two reeds. She swayed once, her mouth a hole ringed with moist, sharp pieces. The legs snapped Szabla up before she had time to close her eyes, the spikes skewering her from both sides. Szabla screamed as the points tore through her ribcage, and then the mantid curled her up to her mouth and Szabla saw the cutting jaws lower out of view behind her head. She screamed again, thinking, God, oh God, what an awful way to die.
The pale faces of Cameron and Justin appeared above, and then Tank's, but she was already flailing and screaming in its grip.
The smell of the creature pungent all around her, Szabla felt the piercing jaws go to work on the back of her neck, the sharp pain of her skin being pierced like a roast. She screamed as blood spurted out on both sides of the thing gnawing on her, as the viselike jaw ripped through her bone and gristle, and then she was hanging limply in the mantid's arms as she turned her like a pig on a spit, sucking and chewing and grinding.
Szabla's arms and legs weren't obeying anymore and there was one moment of perfect silent terror as she felt, deep within her head, the vibration of the mandibles scraping the bone of her skull before she went out.
Tank picked up the Clacker where Savage had cast it aside before his dive, and stared at the hole helplessly. The explosives were nestled right beneath one of Savage's legs.
Justin was screaming and trying to jump into the hole on the mantid's back, but Cameron had her arms locked around his waist. He broke her grip and she slid to his legs, tripping him, clinging to an ankle and holding him back.
Justin was screaming and crying, the spike tight in his fist. "Lemme go! She's my fucking partner!"
"She's gone already," Cameron yelled. "Use your head! She's fin-ished."
Justin kicked free and stood, but Tank collared him with one massive hand and pulled him back tight against his chest, wrapping his arms around him in a bear hug until his struggles lessened.
Szabla continued to twitch. The mantid's mandibles worked on her head until she was a faceless bloody pulp above the shoulders.
Cameron lay on her stomach, her arms still outstretched from her attempt to hold back her husband. As she watched, she made no effort to rise.
The mantid paused from her nibbling to glance over at them curi-ously. She dumped Szabla's body on the ground where it convulsed twice, then she lumbered toward the north wall of the hole.
Cameron was up on her feet instantly. "Move out. Head for Frank's old camp!" she screamed.
"What about Savage?" Justin yelled.
"We can't do anything now!"
"We can't just leave him," Justin protested, running after Cameron and Tank. "We can't just leave him." He pulled to a stop.
Behind him, the mantid had already worked her way up the wall, her head drawing into view.
"We don't have a choice," Cameron said. "We don't have a fucking choice." Over his shoulder, she saw the mantid rising.
Justin started to say something, but Cameron shushed him, laying her fingers across his mouth. "We don't have a choice," she said again.
Justin looked behind him once, then followed Cameron into the dark-ness.
The mantid stared after them for a moment, then turned and headed back into the hole, regarding Szabla's body. Her bowels were spilled through her stomach next to her, the ground rank with blood and feces. One of her arms was twitching, the fingers scratching shallow grooves in the dirt.
The mantid moved past her to where Savage lay unconscious. Dip-ping her neck, she lowered her head until it was inches from his closed eyes. Blood glistened along his hairline.
She breathed his scent, waiting for a movement of any size.
Chapter 65
What in the fuck are we gonna do?" Justin said as they stumbled into Frank's camp. "Jesus fucking fuck what the fuck are we--"
Cameron grabbed him hard around the head, her thumbs pressed firmly into his cheeks. She pulled his head down so his eyes were level with hers. "Calm, baby. Calm down. Look at me." Justin's swearing fell into mumbling. His head relaxed in her hands and his lips stopped moving.
Cameron leaned back against the aluminum specimen freezer, feeling its coldness through her shirt. Pressing her hand tightly to her forehead, she tried to ease the throbbing in her head. Every time she tried to focus, an arrow of searing pain shot up from the base of her neck, disrupting her thoughts. She tapped the freezer door behind her with her knuckles, her stomach roiling. The sight of Szabla was the worst thing she'd ever seen. Thrashing around like that, still alive--alive to the very end. She shook off a shudder.
"Jesus Christ," Justin said. "Did you see Szabla?" Panic hid under his voice, waiting to erupt.
Cameron nodded solemnly, the image of Szabla's partially gnawed head still in her mind. She stepped into one of Frank's tents and started digging through the abandoned supplies to see if there was anything of use. There wasn't.
"We gotta get our hands on the explosives again," she called from the tent. "In the meantime, we have specimen hooks from the freezer, we have the spikes, we have canvas, four flares left--shit, just three, Derek had one--we have rope."
Cameron emerged from the tent, holding a battered underwater flashlight. She paused, chewing her lip. Tank and Justin watched her intently.
"If we just had some kind of a projectile." She bolted forward, snapping her fingers. "The speargun from Diego's boat. Rex knocked it over
board--it's down in the water still."
Justin nodded tentatively. "If the currents didn't take it."
"Can you find it? Do you think you could find it in the night?"
"It'd be easier in the morning," Justin said.
Cameron tore a solar cell from Tank's shoulder and snapped it into the underwater flashlight. "We might not have till morning."
She clicked the switch on the flashlight and tapped it near the lens with her palm. A dim light flickered once, then stayed on. She handed the flashlight to Justin.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
Cameron jerked her head toward the vesicle. "Back for Savage."
"All right. I'll establish contact via transmitter as soon as I hit shore." He turned to go, but she caught him by the shoulder and spun him around. "What?" he asked gently.
"I don't...I don't know." She felt pressure along the bridge of her nose, tears pushing to get out, though she didn't know why. "Don't fuck up and let anything happen to you," she said.
His face softly lit in the moonlight, he reached out and moved her necklace clasp to the back. Beneath the line of her straight blond hair, her neck was bruised with dark purple blotches where Tank had grabbed her.
Justin turned and disappeared in the darkness.
Justin moved with excruciating slowness down to the coast, making his way through the clusters of transition zone trees until he passed the watchtower, then inching down the trail through the arid zone, past palo santo trees and cacti. Finally, he reached the cliffs above Punta Berlanga, careful not to startle any birds from the masked booby nesting grounds. He hiked down the thin trail cut into the hard walls.
Casting nervous glances up the beach, he made his way to the water and stripped to his boxers, laying his clothes in a neat pile. The breeze raised goose bumps on his arms.
The flashlight was tied to a thin braided rope that he looped over his shoulder. Though the rope was strong, he still gripped the flashlight by the handle.
He turned and faced the smooth dark bay. The water came up around him in a rush as he dipped beneath the surface. He dolphin-kicked underwater, heading toward the unbroken arc of the horizon.
When Cameron finished searching the biostation tent, she noticed Tank squatting, an elbow light on and swinging between his legs. She reached over immediately and turned it off. "No light," she said.
Tank nodded. He was holding his right arm tenderly, resting the elbow in the cup of his left hand.
"Lemme see," she said, crouching beside him. He shook his head. "C'mon, hero, you fucked it up rescuing me, the least I can do is take a look." She reached for his arm, but he pulled it away, so she slapped him lightly across the face. "Behave!"
She cuffed up his sleeve and saw that the flesh of his arm was swollen almost to the point of bursting. It was a deep bluish-black, bulging along the back of his forearm just beneath the elbow.
Tank read her face immediately.
"I think you've got a compound, kiddo," she said, trying not to sound concerned.
"Nope," he said. "Woulda felt it snap."
"Just swollen, then?" she asked. "Or a hairline?" He nodded. "Want to splint it?"
Tank shook his head. Suddenly, he leapt to his feet, pushing Cameron behind him. She whirled around but there was nothing there. Down the road, the watchtower howled.
"Sorry," Tank said.
"That's okay. Let's check on Savage. Then we should get ahold of the explosives and figure out somewhere to hole up for the night. The forest has the most cover, but the mantid's also got the advantage there." Cameron thought about how she had rested her arm right across the creature's back without noticing her. "The forest is definitely her habitat. Hopefully, she went back there with her kill." She ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek, pushing it out. "Ready?"
Tank nodded. "I'll take point," she said. She headed for the road, taking five paces before Tank followed, sliding to her right.
They eased slowly through the lines of balsas into the eastern field.
The remaining torch near the hole came into view, the last flickering spot of light in the darkness. At one point, it disappeared for a moment, as if some large body had passed before it, but Cameron couldn't be sure.
They crossed the field at a laborious pace. Cameron tried to feel the ground before every step
, knowing that the slightest noise, even the overturning of a small rock, could be sensed by the mantid's antennae were she anywhere near. Tank was so quiet behind her she could barely hear him. Cameron sidestepped two giant tortoises that had bedded down for the night, twinning shadows rising before her.
She had been on more missions than she could count on both hands: missions where death surely awaited several members of her platoon. And she had gone into them unshaking, unflappable. But enemy soldiers killed cleanly and swiftly. A blade across the throat, a bullet through the back of the neck, even a frag grenade in the gut and you died on the spot. If there was any, the pain was typical. If it was excruciating, at least she'd known to expect it.
What waited for them now, up ahead or in the forest, between torch-lit tents or trunks of trees, was unlike anything she'd ever thought she'd have to contend with. A clawing, biting, grasping death, an awareness even as something began to feed on your skull.
She thought about Szabla twisted in the arms of the creature--her mouth open in a scream, her eyes rolling, her arms dangling from her hunched shoulders like those of a mannequin.
The three remaining tents quivered in the wind. The dark curve in the ground where they had built the fire looked like a crater. When Tank passed the log near the fire ashes, he picked up the spike that was leaning against it. She was glad to see him with a weapon back in his hands. With cautious steps, Cameron circled the base camp once. No sign of the mantid. With two fingers, she signaled to Tank that she was moving for-ward. They eased along the grass toward the vesicle on their toes, the heels of their boots never touching the ground.
The torch waned, flickering dimly across the yawning mouth of the hole. A few broken branches protruded, flared like the feathers of a pea-cock. The torchlight played sharply off the woven mat of leaves and fronds that had covered the hole, outlining the waving foliage on the field. The shadows bounced and dipped on the grass like puppets.
Leaning forward, Cameron inched to the edge. She peeked over, pulling back quickly in case the mantid was waiting there. Among the broken branches and fronds, Savage lay, his arms and legs bent at unnat-ural angles, one hand still tightly gripping his knife. The whites of his eyes flashed as he blinked. She knew right away that he was paralyzed. He did not cry out.
Minutes to Burn (2001) Page 39
