Minutes to Burn

"No, not yet," Szabla said. "We need that last branch to cover the end." She pointed to the dark strip at the edge of the hole. One on either side, the two torches still burned strong.

"We're gonna have to do without. Get behind the hole. Now! Behind it. Explosives ready?" Cameron spoke rapidly, frantically.

Szabla picked up the Clacker and tossed it to Savage. He stood a few paces off the lip of the vesicle, holding the unit, the wire trailing along the ground before disappearing through the covering leaves. He held it in both hands, fingers laced across the hinged end.

Behind them, the darkness was silent, save the raindrops pattering gently on the grass. Trees creaked and swayed in the breeze. About a hun-dred yards away, the edge of one of the GP tents flapped in the wind.

Szabla, Tank, and Cameron stood to the east of the hole. Savage waited facing the forest, toying with the Clacker.

"We can't all line up like this," Cameron said. "We'll scare it off."

"And that's a bad thing?" Justin asked.

"We don't have time, Justin," Szabla scowled. "In case you forgot, there's still another larva out there. We fuck around, we're gonna have two of these things on our hands."

Szabla stared at the rest of the squad. Cameron and Tank were still panting from their run. Szabla and Savage made the strongest team right now, so they'd have to handle it. She turned to Tank, Justin, and Cameron. "You three. Split." She pointed downslope. "Me and Savage'll lure this thing into the hole. Once you hear the blast, come running."

The shed atop the watchtower howled with the wind and they all jerked, but still nothing appeared.

"Go, Cam. That's an order." Szabla looked at them anxiously. "Now!"

Tank and Justin turned and ran into the darkness. Cameron took a few halting steps backward, her eyes on Szabla.

"Go! " Szabla yelled.

With a grimace, Cameron sprinted off after Tank and Justin. Szabla and Savage watched her figure fade into the night, Savage weighing the Clacker in his hand.

"How do you know it won't go after them?" Savage asked. He ran his fingers over the cut on his forearm. It had already scabbed over.

"It'll be drawn to the light," Szabla said.

"Aren't we all?" he responded dryly.

A thunderous noise nearly startled Szabla off her feet. When she looked up, Tank and Rex's GP tent floated up on the wind in the dis-tance, trailing guy lines and strainers under it like kite tails. Something had ripped the entire thing out of the ground, sending it airborne with a single strike.

Szabla could just barely see the other tents in the moonlight, large, dark blocks quivering in the wind like slumbering elephants.

The loose canvas edge no longer flapped. Szabla looked at the tent rolling on the wind across the field and realized that the mantid had thought it was alive.

She glanced at the darkness all around, her heart hammering, her chest rising and falling visibly beneath her black tank top. The shirt was tight to her body with the rain. She thought she heard a rustling sound behind her and she whirled, almost losing her balance, but there was nothing there.

She and Savage backed around the hole. The torches only illuminated a fifteen-foot circle. They looked until they felt their eyes straining but could detect no movement.

There was a screech to their left and a flash of green, and then one of the torches was lying on its side in the grass. The flame quieted to a small yellow flare, then an orange glow, and then it was gone.

"Fuck," Szabla said. "Fuck me."

Their eyes trained on the spot where they'd seen the blur of the man-tid, Savage and Szabla walked slowly back around the hole to stand nearer to the remaining torch. Szabla's chest was hammering up and down.

"Calm down, Szabla," Savage growled. "Enjoy this."

"Come on, you fucker," Szabla said to the blackness. "Come on."

Something swished through the grass. Savage stared down the length of the hole, straining to make out what he could on the far side. He undid the Clacker's safety veil, thumbing the small piece of metal aside, freeing the two ends of the detonator so that they could meet. Szabla held her ground, though her legs were shaking.

An enormous triangular head moved slowly into view, floating about nine feet off the ground. It cocked to the right, regarding Szabla intelli-gently. She stared into the quivering preoral cavity, the hole surrounded with grotesque living tools, and stifled a scream.

With elegance, the mantid pulled herself into the circle of light. Szabla grimaced when she saw the full length of the body, the six legs ending with hooked claws, the sheen of the cuticle.

The mantid moved forward to the edge of the hole and halted, fixing them with a predator's stare. Her eyes were large orbs, so dark they were shiny. Between them, her ocelli glittered like marbles.

Facing her across the length of the vesicle, Szabla murmured some-thing beneath her breath, repeating it over and over like a mantra.