"You go places sometimes," he said, his voice soft, gravelly, and, if she wasn't mistaken, gentle, "you can't get back from." He looked up at the living ceiling above them. "I went into the jungle when I was eight-een, and I stepped out of life. I don't…I don't have a choice anymore."
Leaning back against the slimy bark of the tree, he watched a cluster of insects flutter around a branch overhead. Szabla looked everywhere but his eyes, then started back along the trail.
After a moment, he followed.
It was one of the longest days Cameron could recall.
Since the larvae needed shade of some sort, she, Tank, and Justin skipped the sparse coastal zone. They swept the rim of the arid zone near the lagoon where Cameron had located the first larva, before heading north and making their way through the transition zone above the volcanic rift. Finally, they cut into the forest proper, cresting Cerro Verde around noon, steering clear of the caldera itself by circumventing it from the safety of the surrounding trees. At one point, a vantage opened, and Cameron caught a clear glimpse of the active caldera through the tree trunks-a long, flat plain of lava set off with the occa-sional jumble of rocks and dipping out of sight in the middle. Myriad fissures split the dark rock, through which the glow of hot magma emanated. Steam rose in wisps, curling into elongated apparitions before dissipating.
They paused reverently before continuing down the steep eastern side of the Scalesia zone. They combed the terrain in huge swaths, beating the underbrush and waiting for the small creatures to crawl forth so they could beat them to death.
Tank carried the bolt from the specimen freezer, and Cameron and Justin each held a spike. If they didn't start picking the larvae off soon, their situation would get worse. They still had thirty-four hours to extraction, and thirty-four hours could be a long time stuck on a tiny island with master predators on the loose.
They walked on in silence, taking in the trees and the short, darting movements of birds. Cameron's arms were whipped and raw from plant stalks and twigs. Her left shoulder had a large abrasion she might have gotten scraping against the rough bark of a tree, but she couldn't remember for sure. In fact, she couldn't recall the source of most of the aches and pains that shot through her body with each step.
At one point, she could have sworn she sensed Derek close to them in the forest, but when she listened, she heard nothing except the whisper of leaves against one another. She tried reaching him on his transmitter a few times, but it was still deactivated.
They circled up to take a rest, snacking from their MREs. No one stood guard. Cameron rested in a crouch, eating vegetarian tortellini out of the pouch. The rain had stopped, though the air was still gray and heavy. After ten minutes of sitting, Tank was still breathing heavily. Justin said something softly to him that Cameron could not quite make out, but she guessed he asked about Tank's injuries, because Tank shook his head and stood up quickly, pretending not to wince.
They started to leave, but Cameron stopped herself, went back to their rest spot, and cleaned up the plastic wrappers from the MREs, shoving them into her bag.
For four more hours, they painstakingly canvassed the forest, peering into bushes and caves, through the gnarled hollows of trees, and within clusters of boulders. At one point, Tank stopped, snapping his fingers sharply, and they all froze.
There was a slight scraping, like nails against bark, and they peered around nervously. Tank raised the freezer bolt behind his head, the knob dwarfed by his large fingers. Cameron and Justin moved slowly for cover behind a tree trunk, and Tank was left alone in the clearing. He took a hesitant first step back but stopped when the scraping came again. A cluster of ferns to his right split open, and a shadow charged out at him. As he stumbled back, swinging the bolt and missing, Cameron realized it was a feral dog, its spotted coat stretched tightly across its ribs. She felt the breeze from the dog's movement as it flashed off into the foliage. In an instant, even the sound of its running had vanished.
Tank swayed a bit on his feet, still clutching the bolt. Justin started laughing with relief, but no one joined him. He stopped.
They arrived back at base camp, defeated and exhausted, praying that Szabla and Savage had had more success. They ducked into Tank's tent to get out of the glaring sun, and Tank collapsed on his back on the ground. Cameron could tell he was really hurting, though she was prob-ably the last person in the world he'd admit that to. "You sure you're all right?" she asked.
"Fine."
"Well, you know what usually makes me feel better after a long day of unsuccessful larva hunting?" Justin asked, glancing over to see if he'd made Cameron smile. "A good hot shower and a back massage. But since I can't have either of those, I think I'll go take a dump."
Even Tank laughed a little as Justin disappeared through the flap.
"Good kid," Tank said. He shook his head, leaving sweat stains on his pad. He ran his fingers across his tender forehead, drawing away peels of skin. He looked at Cameron sheepishly. "Forgot sunblock," he said.
Cameron cringed. She unscrewed the cap from her canteen and took a healthy gulp of water. She'd need to get to the ocean soon to rinse off the grime. It clung to her like another layer of clothing.
Above the barrel of Tank's chest, the strong curve of his chin was bristled with whiskers. Cameron had always liked being in Tank's large, serene presence-maybe it was the constant current of unspoken affection he sent her way. She felt the need to say something to him, some-thing personal, but she didn't know what, so she was quiet.
Justin's voice from outside broke the silence. "Hey you guys! Check this out. Quick!"
They scrambled out of the tent and found Justin furiously buttoning up his pants. He started for the forest, gesturing them to follow. They passed through some recently cleared pasture, and soon the Scalesias were all around them. About fifteen yards in, he slowed, bending aside a leafy bush so that Cameron and Tank could see.
A larva, smaller than the others, with a light, almost yellow-green cuti-cle, had slid itself up a tree trunk, its prolegs grasping the moist bark. It worked its head back and forth, expelling a white sticky substance that looked like silk onto the trunk. It attached itself to the silk bedding and bent its head down to its bottom segment. It was weaving a cocoon around itself.
Cameron stepped forward, moving around Justin. "Incredible," she murmured.
They watched its graceful, repetitive movements with fascination. It had ensconced its lower half in silk when they heard approaching foot-steps behind them. Cameron turned as Szabla appeared in the foliage, Savage trailing her by a few steps.
"I was wondering where you-" Szabla froze, staring at the larva. Without hesitation, she crossed to it and kicked it from the tree, sending a scattering of moisture through the air. It squirmed on the ground awk-wardly, its lower body still encased in silk. Savage stepped forward and raised a foot to the tree trunk, resting an arm across his knee.
Reaching over without even looking, Szabla grabbed Savage's knife from his ankle sheath. She reached the larva in four strides and drove the blade into the top of its head. A gurgling noise issued from its gills. It flipped and twisted, arching like a Halloween cat, its true legs splayed out in front of it like wooden pegs. Green hemolymph bubbled from the slit. It shuddered twice through its entire body, contracted slowly into a ball, and stilled.
Szabla glared at Tank, Justin, and Cameron, running the knife across her thigh and back again. Cameron almost retched at the smudge it left on her cammies, full of virus. She felt Savage's eyes on her, reading her. "That's my tough little soldier," he said, his voice amused and disdainful all at once.