Minutes to Burn

"I thought it was the space suit and the ten pounds."

"That too."

"And your intimidating demeanor."

"All right-don't push your luck. I just need Tom to run a sample under the EM. I'd do it myself, but they won't let me out."

The tremendously exacting electron microscope, hypersensitive to minute vibrations and electromagnetic interference, had to be bolted into the concrete basement floor and surrounded with layer upon layer of copper mesh. There was no way they'd release Samantha to go down there herself, but she was anxious to get micrographs of the sample from Sangre de Dios.

"I'll have him paged," Dr. Foster said. "I'm sure he'll come in for you."

"Thanks. And get here early tomorrow to draw on me so we can get the antiserum into the patients."

"Assuming your blood work comes back fine."

Samantha waved him off. "Assume away. Just move your ass."

Dr. Foster paused on his way out, looking at her with concern. "Are you all right with all this?"

Samantha smiled. She pointed to the test tube that Donald had sent over, lying on its side on the counter. "Already on to the next thing," she said.

"Well," he said. "Maybe when you get out of here, we could go and get a cup of coffee. Or maybe see a movie."

"Don't you mean 'if I get out of here?'" Samantha asked.

"I'm comfortable with 'when,' " Dr. Foster said. "And you're avoiding the question."

"Well, there's a lot going…I don't really…" Samantha was worrying her bangs with her hand. She stopped, looked at her hand, and lowered it. "Yes," she said. "I'd like that."

Chapter 23

Cameron inched forward on the walkway's rickety planking. She called out once, but the man did not reply. His face was streaked with blood, his clothes smeared and stiffened with dark patches of crimson. In places, even his hair was matted down with blood.

Derek and Cameron eased up to him, signaling Savage and the two scientists to hang back. Derek's hand rested lightly on his pistol. As they came up behind the man, he pointed down at a giant tortoise. It lazed under a crude shed roofed with corrugated metal. In the foreground stretched a small wall built of gray stones, and a tall Opuntia, its lower pads chewed off. "Solitario Jorge," the man said without turning around.

"I'm sorry," Derek said. "I don't…"

"No comprendemos," Cameron said.

The man switched to perfect English. "Lonesome George. Last of the Geochelone elephantopus of Pinta Island. His entire species was wiped out by feral goats in the 1960s. There's no one left for him to mate with. When he dies, the species dies. He grows older and older." He raised a blood-crusted hand to scratch his cheek. "Take a close look. We're wit-nessing extinction before our very eyes."

He turned to face them, and Cameron sensed immediately that he was not dangerous. With a dark band of a mustache, high cheekbones, and deep brown eyes, he exuded a dignified, almost princely air, even in his current state. He extended a hand. "Diego Rodriguez," he said.

Cameron pointed at his hand, and he looked at it, as if noticing the blood for the first time. "Oh," Diego said, wiping his hand on his shirt, though the blood didn't come off. "Pig blood. Ran out of bullets."

Cameron grimaced.

Rex stepped forward. "Where's the seismology department?" he asked.

Diego laughed. "Got me."

"Is there anyone here?"

"Anyone here?" Diego leaned forward, still laughing. "I'm here."

"That's not particularly helpful, my friend," Juan said. "We are in need of the scientists here."

"I'm Acting Director of the Station," Diego said, with exaggerated gravity. "And the only remaining scientist. Oh wait, that's not quite true. Ramoncito is still here." His laughter quieted down and he wiped his eyes.

"Who is this Ramoncito?" Juan asked.

"He's the supplies boy. About fourteen. Very dedicated. You may have met him on his way to town."

"This is not a joke!" Juan barked.

"No," Diego said. "It isn't."

"We need to get to Sangre de Dios," Rex said.

"Best of luck. None of the local boats go near there anymore." He raised his hands, wiggling his fingers. "It's haunted."

"I'm outfitting the island with geodetic equipment," Rex said. "I was supposed to meet with the seismologists here to get the telemetry gear in place, and they were going to arrange a transport for us."

"They did have a boat arranged. They took it themselves to the main-land. Wisely, might I add." Diego sighed. "The last of my scientists."

"We need a boat," Rex said.

Diego glanced them over. "How many are you?"

"Nine," Derek said. "And supplies."

"Well, you're properly fucked, as the expression goes. Most boats have already struck out for the continent. The only one remaining that's big enough to get you all there in reasonable fashion is mine. And I retired."

"When?"

"About two minutes ago."

"What has happened to the Station?" Juan said, his voice growing angry. "Why are you in charge?"