Minutes to Burn

Cameron ran into the forest until the searing pain in her lungs became too much, then she collapsed. Since it was night, the mantid could roam anywhere on the island; the forest, with its myriad hiding places, was probably Cameron's best bet.

She was heavily scented with her sweat, Tank's blood, and the rotting flesh of the body from the freezer. She stared at her damp, stained shirt, soaked with the Darwin virus, and knew she'd have to wash off as soon as she could get back to the water. There was no way she was going to risk another trip to the beach, though. Not until sunrise. She thought of the antibacterial gel at base-that would be her first priority in the morning.

She resisted the urge to page Justin given they'd agreed he'd contact her once he reached shore. She'd just have to trust that he'd be okay on his own for now.

She searched among the Scalesias, trying to find one tall enough for her to scurry up and hide. The mantid could reach her in a tree, but if Cameron was up off the ground, she'd at least have more warning of the creature's approach, and be out of her probable line of sight and scent. Finally, Cameron came upon a tall, skinny quinine tree, towering feet above the smaller Scalesias. It was perfect, though the lowest branches thick enough to support her weight were at least thirty feet up.

Shinnying up the trunk, she rested about ten feet off the ground, clutching the trunk with her thighs and arms. The bark felt harsh through her thin tank top. She humped her way farther up until she reached the lowest limb, which she grabbed like a pull-up bar, letting her feet swing free. Tucking her knees to her chin, she rolled upside down, hooking her legs over the branch and using the trunk to pull herself upright.

She looked around, noting that the branches of the other trees were not as close as they had seemed from the ground. Her escape route was questionable; if she got sighted, she'd probably be pinned down. For the time being, she was too exhausted to move, but she would force herself to stay awake.

Straddling the branch, she leaned against the trunk, pressing her forehead to the rough bark.

For the first time in nearly eighteen hours, she let her muscles go limp.

Justin moved over two strokes west, as he had before each dive, and tried again. When his feet hit bottom, he gazed along the column of light. Something glimmered in the sand, a bright yellow streak. Swim-ming over to it, he uncovered the fluorescent stock of the speargun and pulled the weapon free. Sand swirled around him like confetti, and he held the long, slender speargun before him for a moment, as if admiring it.

Surfacing, he swam to the tuff cone and rested. He pressed his cheek to the rock as he bear-hugged it, twisting his hips to protect his groin. Breathing deeply and evenly, he rose and fell with the water against the tuff cone.

The spear gun had no sling, and he tried unsuccessfully to secure it tightly to the flashlight sling. Finally, he struck out for the island, holding the speargun and paddling mostly with his other hand. The speargun lopsided his stroke. He switched hands, shaking out his biceps as he pro-pelled himself forward with both legs. The rhythm of his kicks and breaths was almost hypnotically steady. To his left, a sea lion shadowed him, watching his progress with what appeared to be amusement.

Each time he surfaced, his breath came harder, and soon he was coming up for air every other stroke. After a while, the hazy outline of the island up ahead became visible. The sea lion dipped beneath him and popped up on his right, barking playfully.

Justin's pace was painfully slow by the time he was within a hundred yards of shore. A glow was already lighting the sky, the gray edge of morning.

He looked for the sea lion, but it had suddenly vanished.

Stopping to tread water, he wheezed until his breathing had some semblance of regularity. He breaststroked a few yards quietly, careful to dodge the jagged edges of the broken reef.

His head snapped up suddenly, and he expertly pivoted in the water, staring behind him. He continued to tread water silently for a few more moments, watching the surface closely. Something large swept by him about fifteen feet away, sending a ripple in his direction. An eddy sucked at his feet. Then the water around him stilled.

His hand tightening on the speargun, he gazed for shore, which was about seventy yards away. The sand sloped gradually; at thirty yards out, it was only five feet deep. Despite the glow along the edge of the island, the waters were still dark.

Something broke the surface, but by the time Justin whirled around, there was nothing but a spiral of ripples and a sinking fin. He raised the speargun defensively but gazed at the sole spear for a moment, then low-ered it. Pulling the sling free from his shoulder, he palmed the flashlight, flicking the switch with his thumb.