Minutes to Burn

Diego pulled himself up from where he was lying and stood in the center. He faced the others, his features shadowed. "There's a tiny cat-fish, a parasite that resides in the warm waters of the Amazon," he said. "Lives on blood. It normally slithers into the gills of larger fish and erects a sharp dorsal spine to lodge itself into place." He held up a fin-ger, mock-teacherly. "The problem is, it can mistake a stream of urine underwater for the small water currents passing through the gills of a fish. It swims up the urethra of the unfortunate skinny dipper and…" He made a popping sound, splaying his fingers wide to indicate the dor-sal spine erecting. Cameron bit her bottom lip. The others stared at him, wide-eyed. "Has to be removed surgically," he continued.

"The whole thing?" Szabla asked breathlessly.

"No," Diego said. "Just the fish." He pulled his belt free, unbuttoned his pants, and pulled them down, his underwear along with them. He cradled his uncircumcised penis in his palm. Szabla stared at the elon-gated scar with a mix of horror and reluctant interest. Justin reached up with his hand and pushed his own jaw closed.

Diego raised his arms and slapped them to his sides, letting himself hang free in the night air. He pulled up his pants, shot Szabla a wink, and headed for his tent.

After washing his face in the cool, salty water, Savage returned to the ring of cruise boxes and the flickering hurricane lamp. The others had already retired to their tents. Justin had stopped to check on Tank, leaving Szabla alone in their tent. It was lit inside by a lamp, and Savage saw Szabla's shadow clearly defined against the green glow of the canvas. He froze outside the small circle of tents, transfixed by her silhouette.

Szabla pulled off her shirt and lifted her tags over her head, winding them around her hand. Probably hated sleeping with anything around her neck. Her undershirt was tight enough that Savage could make out the exact lines of her body. Szabla didn't have large breasts; hers were more like plates rising solidly off her chest. Cameron had the only real pair of knocks on the squad.

Voices murmured within Tank's tent. Cameron and Derek's lamp faded, then turned off. Savage watched Szabla bend to remove her shoes, then she took off her pants, wriggling as she pulled them over her hips. She tossed them in the corner where they landed silently on the sand. He adjusted himself in his pants, wondering if she knew he was watching her. He bet she did. He looked out across the ocean, trying to ignore the silhouette to his left. The waves rolled in, easing up the shore and fizzing as the foam smoothed over. When he looked back at Szabla's tent, the lamp was off.

He paced around the small ring of tents a few times, then walked back to the camp and straddled a cruise box. He glanced over and someone was sitting right next to him. He jerked back, sliding off the cruise box, the Death Wind out of the sheath before he realized that it was Szabla. She laughed quietly, her teeth flashing in the darkness.

"You better be grateful you didn't swing that thing at me, boy, or you'd be wearing it right about now." She was wearing ripped camo shorts and a white undershirt. Her clavicle showed above the collar of her shirt, an elegant line beside the hard curve of her deltoid. Her skin was wet with the ocean mist, humidity, and sweat.

Savage couldn't help glancing down at her hard body, though he tried not to. He thought she might have noticed because she smiled. He scratched his head, lowering his eyes. "I should put a cowbell around your neck," he said.

"I'll try not to read too much into that," she said. He laughed. "Couldn't sleep," she added. "Just wanted to come out and say hey."

"Hey."

Her lips pressed together, betraying her amusement. "Hey."

He was trying to look everywhere except at her eyes, but it finally got too awkward, so he raised his head. She was looking straight at him. Szabla wasn't a flincher; she had no qualms about staring right through him. They stared at each other for a few moments, not touching, not knowing what to say.

Szabla started to speak, but then Justin stumbled sleepily from Tank's tent, massaging his neck with one hand and yawning. He froze when he saw them. Szabla looked at him with wide eyes, like a deer caught in headlights, and then he shook his head, just once, and walked to his and Szabla's tent.

When Szabla looked back at Savage, her eyes were different. He didn't drop his stare even as she turned, trailing a hand on the cruise box, and headed back to her tent.

Chapter 26

27 DEC 07 MISSION DAY 3