Minutes to Burn

Cameron crouched, then stood again.

"I done a lot of shit, but I never left a man down." His eyes mois-tened. "I never left a goddamn man down."

Cameron had to wait a moment before speaking. "I was responsible for Tank and Justin. I had to make a choice."

"Well, now you have to see that choice through." His eyes were nei-ther angry nor accusatory; they were pitiless.

She glanced up the steep wall of the hole. "We can make a stretcher, maybe haul you up with rope." Her voice sounded hollow, even to her.

Savage's snicker tangled in his throat. "Yeah. Good thinking. Sit around and nursemaid me so we all die."

They faced each other, breathing together, though even this was a struggle.

"I was knocked out, so I didn't see where the bitch went," Savage said. He tried to turn his head to the mound of rock the mantid had left when she'd scrambled out, but he couldn't. "I'd bet back up to the forest." Cameron nodded. "You're gonna kill her," he said. It was not a question.

"Yes," she said. "I know."

He faced her, unflinching. "Take my knife."

She shook her head. "I can't."

"My knife." He gazed at the knife still clutched in his useless hand. "Take my knife."

She felt her face trembling.

"You're not gonna leave me down again," he said. A drop of sweat rolled from his temple and lost itself in his beard. Another clung to his ear, stubbornly refusing to fall. "Come on. Let's get this done." He licked his lips. "Take my knife."

Cameron felt her eyes moistening. "I can't. I don't…I can't." She looked back to Tank, as if in appeal, but he held his ground, his eyes scanning the dark outskirts of the field.

Savage's forehead wrinkled with his scowl. "No, goddamnit," he said, the veins on his neck standing out. "Don't look to him. You. You need to do this."

Her face felt hot. She raised a hand and brushed a wisp of hair from her eyes.

"Take my knife."

"I can't."

"Cameron. Take my knife."

She stared at him for a long time, until she felt something inside her die down. As she leaned over Savage, she pressed her lips together to keep them from shaking. He held the knife in a death grip; it took all her strength to pry it from his hand. She stood and faced him. Without his knife, he seemed naked. He lay there, sprawled and broken.

He looked up at the dark figure towering over him. "You sure you want this?" it asked.

He strained with all his might to nod his head. The figure stood there, tall and unmoving. "What the fuck," he rasped. "You gonna take all night?"

The figure bent, crouching over him. He refused to close his eyes.

Tank took a few steps away from the edge of the hole and waited patiently, keeping his eyes on the forest. After a few minutes, Cameron emerged holding the blocks of TNT, Savage's knife sheathed and stuck in the back of her pants.

"All right," she said, moving slowly next to Tank. Her voice was husky, her hands stained to the wrists with fresh blood. "Let's hit base, grab the flares and some more of the explosives."

Her stride was different as she led across the field toward base camp-more purposeful. She set the blocks of TNT on the ground by the fire pit and headed for Diego's old tent, where they'd left the rest of the explosives. The flap was unzipped, and she whispered loudly back over her shoulder as she ducked through. "We should grab a change of clothes so we can burn our-"

Her voice stopped so sharply it sounded as if she'd been swallowed. Crouched awkwardly, bent at the legs, the mantid filled nearly the entire space of the tent, her enormous abdomen curled to fit inside. She stood over the cruise box in which they'd kept the larva. Probably drawn by the scent.

The breadth of her body almost touched the opposing walls of the tent. Both of the sleeping pads had been pushed aside to allow her ample room. She'd stretched the wide entrance flap of the GP tent to pull herself inside.

Cameron's upper body leaned through the opening of the tent, her legs and waist still outside. She didn't dare to exhale. The mantid had not yet noticed her; the amplified sound of the wind against the canvas walls had evidently drowned out the vibrations of her and Tank's approach.

The mantid's head was at the far side of the tent. Cameron was no less than two feet from the back of the creature's abdomen; she could have reached out and stroked the shiny cuticle had she wished.

She bit her lip to keep the panic from spilling through her, curling her shoulders into a hunch as she eased back out of the tent. Any sound could attract the creature-the rubbing of her shirt against the zipper around the flap, the slightest click of her teeth.