Minutes to Burn

The water within the reef was tinted green from the minuscule bits of floating algae, but still it retained a near perfect clarity. Cameron watched a yellow damselfish chase the parrot fish off the coral wall, flicking its tail as it shot forward. The parrot fish swam away, though Cameron could see it for several yards before it disappeared from sight. Tri-umphantly, the damselfish banked in a fighter jet's wide turn before returning to the inner sanctum of the reef, its bright yellow tail and lip contrasting sharply with the sleek black of the rest of its body. With wonder, Cameron watched it slither through the water, her lungs beginning to burn.

As Cameron started for the surface, the damselfish swerved sharply to avoid something rising from the depth of the ring. Startled from her reverie, Cameron waited to see what would emerge.

Her arms flared in shock when she saw the distinctive green head, the rings of the abdominal segments. Rising like steam from a grate, the larva drifted into view, its back to Cameron. Moving its body side to side like a sea snake, the larva coasted forward, its shadow rippling along the bottom of the sand like a strange, dark organism. It broke the surface a few feet behind the marine iguana, which was still clumsily churning the waters. The larva's mouth opened wide, mandibles spreading. The iguana was gone and the larva dipped back below, mouth working. It slithered through the inner ring of the atoll, heading for the open waters beyond.

Cameron kicked to the surface, pausing only to fill her lungs once, and then she swam toward the larva, taking long, fluid underwater strokes. Her hand went to the knife tucked into the band of her pants and slid it from its sheath. She moved without hesitation.

The larva did not sense her approach. Its head rotated as it tracked a brilliant moorish idol swimming before it, and its gills rippled as they expelled water.

Arcing her arm like a javelin thrower, Cameron guided the knife, releasing it gently so as not to upset its course. It sent silvery disks of light through the water as it coasted, seeming to vibrate as it caught the sun.

It approached the unsuspecting larva from behind, nearing its head. As the larva's gills flickered wide, the blade disappeared through one of the slits, burying itself in the larva's head to the hilt. The larva jolted as if it had been shocked, bubbles steaming from its spiracles. A gorgeous cloud of hemolymph spread from the three gills like a blossoming rose, and Cameron tried not to think of the virus moving through the waters around her.

The larva's mouth opened, the tip of the blade visible between its mandibles. Even underwater, Cameron could hear the screech emanating from its spiracles. The larva bent to face Cameron, too stunned to thrash about, though its prolegs squirmed in slow circles. The greenish liquid continued to pour from the slits of its gills.

Cameron's eyes narrowed as she closed in on the larva, her teeth clenching until she felt the grind deep in her head. She fisted the knife stock and turned for shore, the impaled larva turning with the blade. The larva snapped along her side as she kicked back to the beach, surfacing occasionally for air.

She pulled herself from the water, the knife still embedded in the larva's gills. The larva's terminal segment skimmed along the surface of the waves as she sloshed to shore. The larva emitted squeals, still strong, though it had lost so much of its fluids. It bucked and kicked, bouncing along her side, its head twisted by the blade's intrusion. Cameron kept its body tilted so that the infected hemolymph would run off the body rather than down the knife onto her hand.

Cameron headed up through the cliff and then along the trail that led to the road. She passed the watchtower and went directly to the speci-men freezer, dragging the larva as it shrieked and struggled. Yanking the door open, she ignored the fetid air, the puddles of ooze, the rotting corpses. Her boot struck Tank's head as she stepped forward, knocking over his bustlike remains. She angled her knife hand and the larva slid from the blade, thumping to the floor.

She seized the empty hook dangling from the ceiling and impaled the larva on it, jerking the barbed end through the bottom of its chin until it curved from its mouth like a pointed tongue. Squealing emanated from its whole body.

Gripping the end of the hook in a fist, Cameron raised it above her head like a fisherman, holding the shaking larva right before her. She viewed it neither with anger nor with the pleasure of vengeance; it was merely a tool to be used as she'd used Savage's knife and the TNT.

The sun was low in the sky as Cameron stopped by base camp and scooped up the three flares, ramming them into her back pocket where they protruded like a rolled newspaper. Swinging the larva at her side, she started down the road, the trees rising on each side of her. Ahead, the howling watchtower continued its laments.