"Hey."

Her lips pressed together, betraying her amus.e.m.e.nt. "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, ma.s.saging 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.

he morning came fast and glorious, breaking over the distant arc of the ocean and turning the water to a dappled sheet of orange and yel-low. A scattering of cirrus clouds textured the sky. Derek sat on one of the cruise boxes, the toe of his boot stirring the sand. Again, he'd been unable to sleep. Finally, thoughts of Jacqueline had driven him from the tent into the open, where he could breathe better.

From beneath heavy lids, he watched the beach around him take shape with the light. Quickly, even the cliff walls of Punta Berlanga were visible. Sailors had painted or chiseled the names of their ships on the lava in a kind of antiquated graffiti-1836 Gabbiano, St. George, Wander-lure. Juan's grave sat sadly unadorned. It was like all the other recently formed mounds, except hidden in its rocky wash was a b.l.o.o.d.y corpse.

Twenty yards off, a bull sea lion wallowed ash.o.r.e on muscular flip-pers. He barked, shuddered so his fat rolled heavily around his body, and bellied down into the sand to draw some warmth from the sun. His coa.r.s.e whiskers sloped down, waving in the breeze and matching the wiggle of the small nubs of his ears. He pushed his flippers flat against his side where his blubber was thinnest and lazed over to one side, turn-ing a deep brown eye in Derek's direction.

Closer to Derek, a female waddled ash.o.r.e, her pup struggling to keep up with her. She stopped a few feet from Derek, keeping her distance from the male. A yellow warbler lit on her head, hopping and pecking at flies.

The tents rustled with the sounds of morning. The soldiers' internal clocks were nearly impeccable; they rose at first light, regardless of time zone.

Szabla stumbled over something and cursed.

Cameron stepped from her tent and stretched, scratching her hair. Behind her, she heard Rex emerge from his tent. He went down to the water's edge immediately, filled a jar from a reddish patch of water, and held it up to note its tint. In the distance, a wave slapped the lava sh.o.r.e, sending a row of spouts up through the blowholes.

The others emerged and gathered around Cameron, watching the sea lion and her pup. Tank was on his feet, but he grimaced as he lifted his foot to rest it on a cruise box.

"s.h.i.t, LT," Szabla said. "You get any sleep? You look like h.e.l.l."

Derek looked up at the green humps of the highlands in the distance. "I slept fine."

A tiny wasp flew near Cameron, and she swatted it, ducking. It flew in a mad circle and came back at her head. "Bahia Avispa," she said with a grimace. "Wasp Bay."

The wasp buzzed near Szabla and she shot out her hand, catching it. She shook her fist, threw the dazed insect down, and ground it into the sand with her boot.

Justin walked down to the ocean and splashed water over his face. On his way back, he looked down at the loose laces of his boot. He turned to sit on a nearby rock to tie them when the rock erupted in a flurry of barks. He leapt up just as the male sea lion spun around, snapping jaws inches from his a.s.s. Justin sprinted back to the group, losing his boot along the way. The sea lion waddled after him a few furious steps, his b.u.mped head bouncing on his thick neck, barking his displeasure.

Justin pressed his hand to his chest, ignoring the others' laughter. The male sea lion slowed, turning a nasty glare in Justin's direction. He slid down onto his belly, emitting a few more barks for good measure. Szabla tried to imitate Justin's startled expression but deteriorated into more laughter. Savage flipped a cigarette into his mouth and lit it with a quick flash of his lighter.

Justin pulled his boot back on, hopping on one leg. "Jesus, that got my clock going," he said, his face still red.

"Don't mind him," Diego said, his lips pressed together in a smile. "He's just more territorial because he's not part of a colony." He glanced up the empty beach. "I wonder where the rest of the colony is. There weren't very many sea lions out on the tuff cones."

"Do you keep track of that?" Szabla asked. "I thought you were a her-petologist."

"Galpagos inclines everyone to pursue avocational interest across the beams."

"Boards," Cameron corrected with a smile.

"Ah, yes. Across the boards. When my turtles were hatching at Punta Cormorant, there were at least four botanists trying to muscle in on the action." Diego smiled good-naturedly. "No one wanted to miss out on the fun."

The female sea lion rolled onto her back, nearly squashing Cameron's foot. She sidestepped and walked to the nearby sea lion pup, leaning over to pet it. Its head was slick against her palm.

Diego cursed at her sharply, and Cameron straightened up. "What?" she asked.

Rex looked away with irritation. "You can't touch them."

"I don't see why... "

The pup moved toward its mother, but the mother rolled away from it. She barked at it a few times, then waddled to the water, leaving her pup behind.

"The scent. You can't..." Diego stopped, exasperated and upset. "You left your scent on it. The mother won't care for it now."

Cameron's eyes widened. "I didn't know," she said.

"Then ask," Rex said. "Or keep your G.o.dd.a.m.n hands in your pock-ets."

"It was a mistake," Justin said. "Back the f.u.c.k off."

"A few rules," Diego said, trying to keep the anger from his voice. "Don't touch or feed any of the animals. When you go anywhere, walk single-file to reduce the chance of disrupting mating grounds or buried eggs. Do not, under any circ.u.mstances, go up to the active caldera. Don't take any souvenirs, and don't leave anything behind."

Savage sucked hard on the cigarette, dropped the b.u.t.t, and heeled it into the sand. Diego walked over and picked up the cigarette b.u.t.t, hold-ing it up for the others to see. "Not anything," he said. "If just one tobacco plant springs up, there's nothing in the island's ecology to stop it from spreading everywhere. It's a risk we don't take."

The pup rolled onto its stomach, its head rotating back and forth as it searched for its mother. They all did their best to ignore it.

Derek rubbed sleep from one of his eyes. "Me and Cameron-" His head had been turned toward his shoulder, causing Cameron's transmit-ter to vibrate, but she whispered a command to still it. "Me and Cam'll head up and scout stable locations for a base camp."

"The edge of the Scalesia forest is probably the safest region of the island," Diego said. "The fields near the village."

"How many live in the village?" Derek asked.

Diego shrugged. "A few, maybe none. Last I heard, Ramoncito's par-ents were still here. The island has been less than hospitable, especially these past few months."

"I believe Frank set his camp near the village," Rex said. "I'll take a look through it. See what he left behind."

"I'll join you," Diego said. "I'd like to check if anyone's here, make sure the livestock are secure."

Derek glanced at his watch. "That's fine. When we get back, we'll set the first GPS unit and scout locations. The rest of you wait here. We'll muster at 0800." He gazed up at the white smudge of the sun. "And make sure you hydrate heavily," he added. "It's gonna be a hot f.u.c.ker."

The sea lion pup waddled a few feet toward the surf. Tilting its head back, it brayed softly in the direction its mother had disappeared. It took all Cameron had to turn her back on it and follow Derek off the beach.

CHAPTER 27.

--------------------- amantha practiced Tae Bo in the corner of the slammer, supple-menting her roundhouses and side kicks with late-night-movie sound effects. In reality, she had no idea what she was doing, but on many a sleepless night, she'd watched the Tae Bo infomercial with a per-verse interest. Given that she had no better options while she waited for Tom Straussman to return with the electron micrographs, she figured the least she could do was practice her grunting. Plus it helped her keep her mind off her test results, which would be in any moment. She'd spent the night fidgeting, praying the antiserum would be approved for the pilot and flight attendant, and that their viremia hadn't progressed extensively.

There was a knocking on the window, and Samantha glanced over, one foot extended awkwardly before her. Colonel Douglas Strickland, Fort Detrick Base Commander, stood rigid in the hallway, watching her with something like disdain. Samantha lowered her foot and snapped off a crisp salute. Her hair had fallen forward in her face, and Kiera's NVME T-shirt was damp with sweat.

She walked over to the window. "Sir," she said.

Strickland watched her for a moment before speaking, his jaw shifting slowly to one side, then back again. Samantha wondered how he could stand like that-shoulders back, chest forward, beret tucked neatly beneath one elbow and pressed to his side. She made a note to work on Iggy's posture.

"Dr. Everett," he said. His nose bunched like a rabbit's, then loosened.

"Yes, sir."

"I'd imagine you're quite impressed with yourself, having backed us into a corner with this media stunt."

"Well, it-" He raised a hand and Samantha stopped short. When Colonel Douglas Strickland raised his hand, people generally stopped short.

"Allow me to proffer a bit of advice. I am not in the mood to field even the slightest amount of horses.h.i.t from you. I am here to speak, not to listen, and you are here to listen, not to speak. Is that clear?"

Samantha opened her mouth. Closed it. Nodded.

"Your viral load has continued to decrease, and we've cleared the anti-serum to be used on the pilot and stewardess."

Samantha began to smile but stopped when she read his expression.

He continued, his face betraying little emotion. "We've sent this case through for internal review. A JAG officer has already been a.s.signed to the investigation. I am going to do everything I personally can to see that you're s.h.i.tcanned. You may have the chops for science, darling, but an army major you're not. That said, I hope this ploy of yours is successful, that you might have something positive to remember during your early retirement."

He turned sharply on heel and began walking away. Samantha raised her fist to the gla.s.s and knocked once. He turned around.

"Sir," she said.

He raised his eyebrows, ever so slightly.

"I'm a Wellesley graduate with an M.D. from Hopkins, a Ph.D. in microbiology from the NIH, extensive clinical training at the EIS, and field experience on six of the seven continents. I ran the Viral Special Pathogens Branch at the CDC and, for the time being, I'm the Chief of the Disease a.s.sessment Division here." She pushed an errant strand of hair off her cheek. "Don't call me darling. It just makes you look like an a.s.s."

Colonel Douglas Strickland stared at her for a long, hard time. His mouth twitched once-Samantha wasn't sure if it was in anger, or the beginnings of a smile-and then smoothed back into his impenetrable face.

"Very well," he said. "Dr. Everett."

CHAPTER 28.

--------------------- ex hiked up the small trail cut into the cliff walls at Punta Berlanga, Derek, Cameron, and Diego following quietly. Above the cliffs, the ground was all rock, covered with low, scrubby saltbushes resembling haystacks. Rex let Diego navigate through the masked b.o.o.by mating grounds. They crested a small rise, and dozens of the birds spread before them, s.p.a.ced evenly across the lava.

One b.o.o.by took a few halting steps and sky-pointed, angling its neck straight so its beak shot upward toward the sun. A bright white bird- save jet-black markings at the wing tips; a stout, yellow-orange beak; and a dark ring circling its beak and narrow-set eyes-the b.o.o.by was odd-looking. It lowered its beak, panting, vibrating its wattle to shed heat. Most of the other b.o.o.bies sat with their heads turned backward, access-ing oil from glands on their rumps and brushing it through their feathers. Somewhere, a male sang a hollow, rustling whistle of a mating call.

A chick stumbled awkwardly out onto the path, and Diego halted, let-ting it cross. A fluffy white creature that resembled a little snowman, the chick leaned forward into the breeze, spreading its wings to practice flap-ping. Its white downy coat was patchy, its neck thin and fragile. Diego crouched, patiently waiting for the b.o.o.by to cross. Cameron started to step around, but Diego raised a hand, snapping his fingers sharply, and she froze.

"Do not walk through the nesting grounds," he said.

Another masked b.o.o.by chick stumbled ahead of them, its feathers ripped from the right side of its head. Darkened blood had crusted down its neck, and it wobbled unsurely on its feet. "What happened?" Derek asked.

Diego pointed to a nearby nest. "The females lay two eggs, but they only care for one offspring. The runt is murdered by its sibling, cast out to die of starvation or exposure, or attacked by its parents and killed."

Derek shook his head. "Christ," he said.

Rex shrugged. "Limited resources."

The chick fell over and struggled to rise, its eyes flickering in the sock-ets. Its wings pulsed twice, then stilled. Diego stepped over it and sig-naled the others ahead. They pa.s.sed a group of male frigate birds in a tree ballooning their bright red gular sacs to draw the attention of females flying overhead.

Once they pa.s.sed the aeries, Rex was glad to reclaim the lead. The steepness of the island's east side allowed them to pa.s.s through the vege-tation zones quickly. Palo santos dominated the arid zone, their forked, skeletal branches overgrown with wispy vines. From a burrow hidden beneath a flourish of saltwort, a land iguana watched them pa.s.s, not even bothering to lift its head. A distinct dusty yellow, the land iguana had a smaller crest than its marine counterparts, and its tail was shorter, not needed for swimming.

The underbrush thickened and grew more lush as they hiked up into the higher-alt.i.tude transition zone. Pega pegas-short-stemmed trees with spread branches and coa.r.s.e, lichen-covered bark-sprouted virtu-ally everywhere, set off by the occasional mango tree. The higher reaches were infiltrated by introduced species, plants that the farmers had imported from the continents-avocado and mango trees, cedrelas, and balsas. These plants had proved aggressive in their active dispersal, invading the fragile vegetation with a predatory ease. Citrus sprang up like weeds wherever their seedlings had blown.

Clearly the main coastal thoroughfare, the trail climbed patiently upward before widening into a brief dirt road graded by the farmers. Rex pulled to a stop at the base of the road, which was split with a wooden tower rising fifty feet into the air. A structure built of weathered planks and crisscrossing boards, the tower supported a splintery ladder up one side, leading to a crow's nest of sorts, a precarious shack perched like a belfry. A makeshift widow's walk, it usually afforded the inhabi-tants a clear view out to the horizon, so they could antic.i.p.ate the arrival of supply ships and the return of local fishermen.

The wind made a loud rushing noise as it whisked through the top of the watchtower. Leaning an arm against the structure, Rex paused. The road continued on, stretching a little more than two hundred yards between and past the farmhouses before fading into the Scalesia forest. Slender groves of towering balsas crowded the road. On either side of the tree-lined road sat crop fields and expanses of cleared pasture.

Most of the village houses were nestled among the balsas, but a few sat farther back, situated in the middle of plantain or yuca fields and angled to face the shadowy ma.s.s of the Scalesia forest. At its maximum, the island's population was twenty-three, but it had been rapidly drop-ping since the first quakes. The houses had seemingly been abandoned, and the fields had become overgrown with shrubs and scattered domes-tic plants. Big gra.s.sy wastelands, the fields would take decades to be reclaimed by the native forest.

Well into the cleared field to the west of the road, a few cows congre-gated in a pen beside a small bloque house, just beyond a stretch of castor oil plants. "We must figure out how to kill them," Diego said, watching the livestock graze. He ran a sleeve across his dripping brow. "But I'm pleasantly surprised by the lack of goats and dogs."

"That must be Frank's," Rex said, pointing through a stand of citrus toward the remains of a camp. Two canvas tents, a rocky fire pit cradling ashes and scorched stones, a large aluminum specimen freezer-all arrayed in the pasture about a hundred yards beyond the house, farther upslope toward the forest. A piece of canvas on one tent flapped loudly in the wind, the noise carrying up the dusty road.

Until he saw it, Rex hadn't grasped how imposing the specimen freezer was. A metal block large enough to pack a big mammal, like a rhino, head-to-tail, it looked as if it had fallen from s.p.a.ce. He tried to picture a supply boat dropping the thing off on the coast of this untamed island, but the image failed him. Built of aluminum, it wasn't as heavy as it appeared, but getting it up the mountainside to the village had certainly been an honest day's work for a few unsuspecting crewmen. He imagined Frank, hands set on his st.u.r.dy hips, fishing cap shading his eyes, barking out commands and pointing the way. Maybe the expedited delivery charge of $400 wasn't exorbitant.

"So," Rex said to Derek as he started for Frank's camp, "you run a pretty lax ship. Not a lot of saluting and 'Sir, yes sirs' going around." He wove through the patch of citrus plants, pa.s.sing alongside the small house. The others followed him, Diego still mumbling about the live-stock left unattended.

"SEALs are like thoroughbreds," Derek said. "You don't want to reign them in too much, especially during down time. But we spin up at a heartbeat when the s.h.i.t's about to hit."

Rex placed a hand against the wall as he rounded the corner, Cameron at his heels. "Well, let's hope that's the-"

A screaming face met him, an ax whistling through the air at his head. Rex yelled and raised his arms protectively just as Cameron hit him from behind, taking him down hard. The ax sliced just above his head and stuck in the side of the house, sending a spray of mortar back into Derek's face. Derek shoved Diego clear, and Diego tumbled to the soft gra.s.s. Cameron sprang up to a crouch, one hand protectively pressing down on Rex's head, the other instinctively slapping her hip for a pistol, though there was none.

Ax still raised, the dark-skinned man looked at them with confusion just as Derek struck him beneath the ribs with a stun blow to the solar plexus. The air left him in a deep bark, like that of a seal, and he tumbled to his knees, clutching his gut. Cameron had him bent forward in a choke hold when a pregnant woman stepped heavily from the doorway, crying, waving her hands, and yelling in Spanish. Rex stood, feeling slightly queasy.

"It's okay!" Diego shouted, pulling himself to his feet. "He didn't mean it."