"Oh, I certainly do, Doctor. Make no mistake about it-I'm aware we have a big-league problem on our hands. That's why we're going to deal with it in big-league fashion. We're juggling a constellation of logistics to get those planes to Baltra on the thirty-first for the 2200 extraction and 2300 bombing."

Strickland glanced at his watch. The digits blinked red and steady: 1903, 30 DEC 07. "You have twenty-six hours and fifty-seven minutes. I suggest you urge your colleagues to use them well." He placed his beret atop his head and adjusted it with a sweep of his index finger. "Good day."

He snapped a crisp salute to Benneton and headed up the hall.

CHAPTER 63.

--------------------- zabla pushed an electric blasting cap into a block of TNT, then taped the block to two others, creating one large brick. Since the Clacker detonator was generally used for Claymores, manufactured C4 charges with molded-in shrapnel, Szabla had to jerry-rig it. She spooled off a good length of wire running from the Clacker, spliced it, stripped the insulation, then performed a western union splice with the two wires of the blasting cap to ensure a good connection.

She held the Clacker in her hand, turning it over. It was about the size of a fist. Once she "clacked" it by clicking the ends together, the charge would run down the wire to the blasting cap, which would initiate the block in which it was ensconced, sympathetically detonating the remain-ing two blocks.

"Good to go, baby," she said. "We'll just veil it like a trap, and when that thing falls through, we'll green haze the motherf.u.c.ker. Walls should collapse right in." She glanced down the length of the hole, a.s.sessing its span. "We're gonna need to veg up the top-we should use dead branches because they'll give easier. Savage estimated the last f.u.c.ker at two, three hundred pounds." She turned to the others. "Go get some branches and leaves and s.h.i.t. At least six branches."

She crouched, lowering the torch to afford Tank more light. He was removing the last of the rock from the far corner. Grunting, he heaved another shovelful up onto the gra.s.s.

"Um, maybe I'm a little slow here, but don't we have to go into the forest to get 'branches and leaves and s.h.i.t'?" Justin asked.

"Uh huh. At least dead, brittle ones," Szabla said. "Over there, Tank," she added, turning back to the hole and pointing to a mound of rock in the far corner.

"And isn't there an enormous people-devouring creature in the forest?"

"Uh-huh."

Justin looked from Szabla to Savage and Cameron, then back to Szabla again. "If a equals b, and b equals c ..."

"If we don't get this covered before it starts raining," Szabla said, "we can forget it." As if to punctuate her point, thunder rumbled across the sky. She could've sworn she felt the ground vibrate beneath her feet.

"But visibility's for d.i.c.k right now," Justin said. "Maybe we should wait."

"We're trying to kill the thing, Kates, not build it a f.u.c.king swimming pool," Savage growled. He glanced over at Cameron. "Let's go."

Justin picked up an elbow light, and Cameron looked over at him, hands on her hips. "It'll be drawn to artificial light," she said. "Leave it."

She and Savage headed for the road, and Justin reluctantly set down the light and followed. The balsas towered in lines on either side. Cameron searched the bases of the balsas for dead branches, but Szabla was right-to find the longer branches and foliage they needed, they'd have to press into the forest itself. There hadn't been many fallen branches in the transition zone to begin with, and they'd used what they had found earlier for the fire.

The sky opened with a gentle rain. Cameron's sleeves began chafing around her arms with the moisture. Justin pulled off his shirt and tied it around his waist. The rain made its way down through the ridges of his stomach, and the muscles of his arm shifted as he swung the spike by his side. Cameron paused for a moment to admire him before ducking through the foliage.

The rain pattering atop the canopy made it sound as if they were inside a drum. They gathered wide fronds and long branches, moving quickly, their eyes darting nervously about. Each time Cameron reached out to snap a frond off a plant, she half expected to see the creature's face hiding behind it, jaws spread and thrusting. Sick as it sounded, she hoped the creature had gorged itself on Derek and was now resting.

The air smelled of decomposing leaves in the mud, dust trapped beneath the canopy overhead, and the swirls of insects buzzing around the trunks. The ferns whispered against one another. A large rat scurried unseen along the forest floor.

The moonlight was surprisingly strong, even through the trees and rain. Though Cameron had to squint as she searched the ground, she could make out the twisted outlines of fallen branches from a distance.

She stealthily approached a branch lying between two trees. She cir-cled it, checking the area for any sign of the creature, then grabbed it, backing up and pulling it behind her until she felt the dirt of the road beneath her boots. Justin was waiting, a mound of foliage at his feet. Savage emerged a moment later, arms laden with leaves and branches. The rain had momentarily ceased.

"You two look like trees in a school play," Justin smirked.

He shoved his spike through his belt, then picked up an armful of fern fronds, pressing them to his chest so that he could use his other hand to drag the branches.

Cameron eyed the length of the road. Aside from the trees along the sides, there wasn't much cover in which the creature could be lurking. They walked slowly, dragging the branches behind them in the dirt. To their right, they could see Frank's specimen freezer standing out in the field, a silver block. When they were about halfway to the watchtower, they cut left through the line of trees into the field and trudged past camp toward the others.

Cameron adjusted the branches in her arms as they arrived at the hole. Szabla took one look at the collection of branches and shook her head. "That one's not gonna be long enough," she said, pointing. "We'll need one more."

"Not long enough my a.s.s," Justin said. "It's long enough."

Szabla walked over and hoisted the thick branch. She stared at Justin, holding the branch horizontally over the hole, her muscles flexed. "Grab the other end, Kates."

From the opposite side, Justin took the branch and lowered it to the lip of the hole. With painstaking care, Szabla set her end of the branch down, where it just missed the last inch of ground. She threw the branch aside.

"f.u.c.k it," she said. "Maybe we'll only need five."

She jumped down into the hole and laid the block of TNT on the ground, dead center. The wire ran up and out of the hole to the Clacker, which lay in the gra.s.s about five feet from the edge of the hole. Using the knotted rope, she climbed out.

Savage notched the remaining five branches deeply in the middle to ensure their breaking under the mantid's weight, then they laid them across the hole and smoothed wide fronds on top of them. One end of the hole remained exposed, showing the blackness beneath.

"We're gonna need one more branch," Savage said.

Tank patted Cameron on the shoulder, angling his head toward the forest.

"All right," Cameron said. "We'll be right back."

"I'll go instead," Justin said.

"No, it's fine. We got it."

Justin started to protest, but she raised an eyebrow to silence him. Tank leaned over and plucked the freezer bolt off the ground. It was at least a thirty-pound bar, but he carried it like a Wiffle-ball bat, tapping one end casually against his palm.

They walked in silence to the edge of the field. Cameron scanned the forest, hoping to see the end of a fallen branch peeking out from beneath the leaves, but there was nothing. Except for mounds of leaves, scattered twigs, and the husks of a few rotting oranges, the ground was bare. The forest receded into blackness between the tree trunks. The noises of living things echoed from the void.

There was never silence in the forest, Cameron had learned. Birds cackling, rain pattering, rats scampering, but never silence. Even the air seemed to be alive, seemed to move and feel and whisper all around them.

"We're gonna have to go farther in," she said. "I don't see any here."

Tank raised the bolt from his shoulder, gripping it by the k.n.o.b like a nightstick. The spike Cameron held against her thigh seemed delicate in comparison.

She started into the darkness, Tank following closely behind.

The mist turned slowly to rain again; they heard it first in the treetops. Drops danced along the leaves, bending them under their weight until they dipped at the stems, spilling. The rivulets darted through openings, drizzling down in streams around them.

"Gimme a six-pace lead," Cameron whispered loudly. She had to raise her voice; the sound of the rain was amplified beneath the canopy.

The strength of the downpour increased until it sounded as if they were under fire. Despite his size, Tank was incredibly graceful, moving through the undergrowth with the agility of a deer. Cameron had to turn and make sure he was following. Were he Derek, she would have known exactly where he was at all times. She wouldn't have had to check his location, wouldn't have had to point to direct him. Tank was excellent, but Derek had been the best. Derek had been like a part of her.

Floreana's deformed baby clawed its way back into her thoughts and she drew her head back slightly at the image. She noticed her fingers trembling and she balled her hand into a fist, clenching it until her fin-gernails dug painfully into her palm. When she opened her hand, her fin-gers were still trembling, so she slapped herself once across the face, hard. Tank saw her halt, heard the ring of the slap, and waited unques-tioningly for her to move again.

She inched forward, fighting desperately to clear her mind. There would be time to mourn, she hoped, for Derek and for other things lost. Now was not the time to go limp with grief or weak with horror. Cameron was trained precisely not to mourn or pity, not to cower at times when she most should. She had already let it in, the softness of her emotions. And now, as she stalked through the forest, bending aside fronds with her arms, chest, and face, she swore it would not happen again.

As she moved, she overturned heaps of leaves with her boot to see if they hid any lengthy branches from sight. They needed just one branch: one more branch and the trap would be ready.

A flash of lightning illuminated a small clearing ahead, and she saw a bough sprawled across the fecund ground like a knotted snake. Thickly gnarled, bowed up toward the middle, and seared by lightning at one end, it lay amongst a scattering of bark peels.

Cameron raised her hand, snapped her fingers once, and pointed. Tank swung wide, holding back to keep surveillance behind them. Out of habit, she winced as she stepped into the clearing. Years of ops had made her accustomed to sniper fire; she hated moving from cover, no matter the circ.u.mstance.

She leaned back to survey the treetops, envisioning the creature sway-ing upside down from the branches overhead. The trunks rose up into darkness, shadowy and dripping with ants, but free of danger.

She felt her shoulders relax as she moved farther into the clearing. She circled the branch once, her eyes picking through the trees around her, then backed up until she felt it against her heel. She stepped back so the branch was between her feet and glanced down at it quickly. With relief, she noted that it was long enough to stretch across the hole. Keeping her eyes on the forest, she crouched to grab the branch.

As if on cue, the rain stopped the instant her hand touched the bark. It didn't taper off; it ceased at once and completely. Cameron could sud-denly hear how hard she'd been breathing. She started when water splashed on her shoulder.

Her fingertips rested on the bark of the branch. With the cessation of rain, the forest seemed unnaturally quiet. She felt that the silence should have enabled some clarity of thought, but it did not. Something chirped near her, in the leaves.

She was paralyzed in her crouch. The trees surrounded her in their various sizes, some towering up through the canopy, some just begin-ning to spread their branches, others thin and bare like telephone poles.

With increasing conviction, she sensed that something was wrong, though what it was she could not figure out. Her breath coming in short quiet gasps, she stared at the trees around her, the dense foliage curling from the soil, even the branch beneath her fingertips, but everything seemed in order. When she rose to stand, both her knees cracked loudly at the same time.

She looked for Tank and he flashed her a dour thumbs-up when he read her expression. Things were clear behind them.

She stepped toward the far end of the clearing, wielding the spike like a saber. She stopped at the edge, resting an arm against the nearest tree trunk. The bark felt smooth against her sleeve. Her eyes tried to pierce the darkness beyond, but she couldn't make anything out. Her knees tensed as she waited for something to fly out at her.

Nervous about leaving the darkness unattended, she risked another quick glance back at Tank. He was holding firm, scanning the terrain behind them. The glint of the steel bolt in his hand calmed her a bit, but her confidence wavered when she turned back to the forest. It was breathing, the forest. It was alive-near her, on top of her, all around her. It was watching her.

She choked down the fear rising in her throat, setting her bottom jaw forward and clamping down on her upper lip. The pain brought her back from the edge. She sucked air deeply, drawing it into the far corners of her chest, and exhaled through her nose. She was fine. There was noth-ing out there.

Leaning back on her heels, she shoved off from the tree. Above her, the tree moved. A head swiveled around on an impossibly elongated neck. It looked at her, eyes as wide as globes, mouth a quivering mess of blades and parts.

Cameron yelled, stumbling back.

Slowly, deliberately, the mantid pivoted, her upper body leading her abdomen. Her front legs had been resting on the tree trunk next to her, holding her body almost perfectly upright on her rear legs. The mantid's abdomen resolved into view, the wings folded along her back but not protruding past the tip of the abdomen. Cameron noted the wing length, even through her terror, and realized that it was a female. Even worse.

From behind, the mantid had blended in perfectly with the trees, the hard brown-and-green-speckled cuticle pa.s.sing for a trunk in the night. Cameron had rested her forearm right across the folded wings of the mantid's back. The mantid hadn't struck only because she'd been facing away, and would surely have been detected in turning around.

Backpedaling, Cameron held the spike before her, her face drained of color. The mantid lumbered forward on her four hind legs, c.o.c.king her head, her large, unblinking eyes gathering Cameron into them. The spikes lining the raptorial legs glistened, still moist with rainwater, and the mantid snapped them once.

Cameron could not remember ever having been awed into silence, frightened beyond words, and yet, as she gazed at the creature stretched nearly nine feet in the air before her, its abdomen thicker than an oil drum, its slender weaponed legs, she was speechless. Her mouth worked open and closed, trying to call out to Tank, or scream, or both, but noth-ing came.

The mantid lunged forward, feigning a strike, and Cameron raised the spike protectively across her face as she stumbled back. Her heel caught on the fallen branch and she went down hard on her back, the spike rolling off through the leaves. With a cry, she sat up, digging her hands behind her so that she could shove herself to her feet, but it was too late.

She felt the shadow blocking out the moonlight even before she saw the creature looming over her.

The mantid readied herself for the strike, her arms coiled against her chest. The mouth gnashed air, and Cameron closed her eyes, thinking that the sound of wet lapping would be the last she ever heard.

Suddenly, she felt the mouth tighten around the back of her neck like a vise and she screamed, but when she opened her eyes, she was flying backward, gripped around her neck by one of Tank's meaty hands. As he yanked Cameron back, Tank swung the steel bolt with his other hand. The mantid reared up to dodge the bolt, which cut harmlessly through the empty s.p.a.ce.

Tank backed up, dragging Cameron by the neck as her feet fumbled to find the ground beneath her.

The pain was excruciating; it felt as though Tank's fingers had pene-trated right through her flesh. His thumb crunched a nerve and she screamed, but her feet still couldn't get under her as he pulled her back-ward. With a quick jerk, Tank flung Cameron behind him. Her whole body took flight, the pain ringing through her neck like nothing she'd ever felt, and she hit the ground on all fours, her momentum carrying her sideways into a roll.

Tank stepped forward, wielding the bolt. Like a boxer, the mantid jabbed at him, her legs flashing out so quickly he couldn't see them. The smooth back of her spiked tibia struck Tank's arm just beneath the elbow. The bolt shot within inches of his cheek, flying end over end into the forest. If the muscles sheathing Tank's arm hadn't been so substan-tial, the bone would have gone to pieces. The first dull wave of pain swept through his forearm and he grimaced, keeping his eyes on the mantid.

He had lost his opportunity to turn and run. Cameron rustled to her feet behind him, too far away to help. The mantid drew herself up, her arms recoiling. She stood directly over the gnarled branch.

Tank fell to his knees and lunged at the mantid's legs. Seizing the end of the branch with his good arm, he yanked with all his might, pulling two of the mantid's legs out from under her. She swayed to the side, her raptorial legs flailing to help her regain her balance.

Tank rolled to his feet and sprinted for Cameron. She stood on unsteady legs, and he grabbed her by the arm and threw her in front of him, pushing her as he ran. She prayed she wouldn't trip.

Behind them, the mantid started forward, moving with surprising speed.

Cameron felt the mantid gaining on them as they crashed through the forest, but she soon caught up to the speed at which Tank was propelling her and really started to sprint. Quickly, she was paces out ahead of him, and he opened up a bit more, and then they were pulling away, slowly but surely, from the gnashing mouth she swore she could feel behind them.

Cameron reached the field ahead of Tank and waited for him a few paces from the forest's edge. She realized it was raining again when she felt the water washing across her face. Tank was gasping when he burst into view and he staggered a bit, doubling over.

For a blissful moment, it was silent behind Tank, and then Cameron heard the mantid again, crashing through the foliage.

Cameron ran back to Tank and looped her arm around his lower back, propelling him forward. "Move, Tank, you gotta move!" she screamed.

Panic swept through her when she heard the movement among the leaves grow louder. They started to run again, their boots sinking in the gra.s.s, slowing them. With the mantid a few hundred feet behind them, they headed for the two torches lighting the hole ahead.

CHAPTER 64.

--------------------- zabla had just laid the last of the fronds across the branches when she heard the yelling. Savage and Justin squared off with the dark-ness, waiting to see what would emerge. Gripping the knife handle firmly, Savage angled the Death Wind down his forearm with the sharp edge out, ready for punching or stabbing. The back of the blade pushed against his skin.

"The hole. Get the f.u.c.king hole ready!" came screaming at them through the darkness.

Savage almost instinctively swung his knife at Cameron and Tank as they dashed into the small ring of light.

"She's behind us," Cameron panted. "She's coming. Is the hole ready?"

"No, not yet," Szabla said. "We need that last branch to cover the end." She pointed to the dark strip at the edge of the hole. One on either side, the two torches still burned strong.

"We're gonna have to do without. Get behind the hole. Now! Behind it. Explosives ready?" Cameron spoke rapidly, frantically.

Szabla picked up the Clacker and tossed it to Savage. He stood a few paces off the lip of the vesicle, holding the unit, the wire trailing along the ground before disappearing through the covering leaves. He held it in both hands, fingers laced across the hinged end.

Behind them, the darkness was silent, save the raindrops pattering gently on the gra.s.s. Trees creaked and swayed in the breeze. About a hun-dred yards away, the edge of one of the GP tents flapped in the wind.

Szabla, Tank, and Cameron stood to the east of the hole. Savage waited facing the forest, toying with the Clacker.