Minutes to Burn Read Free Page B

increased microseismicity from the island.
    He had not been heard from since.
    Due to the elevated earthquakes in the area and the resultant social unrest, travel to Ecuador and the Galápagos had since become restricted by the U.S. military, the airports closed off to civilians. The scientists, like everyone else, were fleeing the Galápagos, leaving behind antiquated equipment that yielded low resolution data. What little information the New Center now received came in from what remained of the Charles Darwin Station in Puerto Ayora.
    As the New Center’s remaining field ecotectonicist, Rex needed to lead an expedition to Sangre de Dios, to complete the survey Frank had presumably begun, and to outfit the island with Global Positioning Satellite units. These would allow the New Center to monitor coseismic and crustal deformation on Sangre de Dios from afar.
    As the westernmost island in the archipelago, Sangre de Dios held a vital geographic position—it stood to be the first and most accurate bearer of bad news concerning earthquakes along the East Pacific Rise. Getting the proper geodetic equipment in place to measure its surface deformation would enable the New Center to predict earthquakes within the entire tectonic regime—both on the mainland and the islands—sometimes as much as forty-eight hours in advance. Rex and Donald could alert the government leaders down there, evacuate com-munities, and save lives.
    However, without a trained military team to escort and protect him, Rex couldn’t so much as board a plane headed for Ecuador. He’d spent weeks sifting through mountains of red tape, trying to secure military support before the December 24 departure. A few days ago, realizing he’d been making little progress, he’d finally forgone the bureaucratic route and called in an enormous favor from Secretary of the Navy Andrew Benneton.
    “I told you I could get it done,” Rex said as he crossed the front lawn, heading for his mailbox. “Did you doubt me?”
    “Well, our correspondence with that captain last week wasn’t so promising.”
    It was true. The Commander of Naval Special Warfare Group One had rejected their request in an e-mail, describing the new riots sweeping through Quito, the organized crime in Guayaquil, and how American troops were already overextended dealing with social deterioration and natural destruction throughout South America and domestically. He’d closed by stating he saw little reason “to drop everything to lend out a squad of highly trained, high-demand operators to transport scientists interested in secondhand reports about minor rumblings on a barely populated island in the middle of the Pacific.”
    “He changed his tune rather quickly once Benneton got involved.” The boa nosed its way up into Rex’s crotch, and he shoved its head away. His was one of the larger boas around, even bigger than the behemoth the receptionist kept in her desk drawer at the vivarium in Quito. “‘Pre-emptive’ is a term largely missing from jarhead terminology. The mili-tary gives no consideration to how we could alleviate potential political or social problems down there. Always running around expending all their energy on secondary effects.”
    In the house across the street, a middle-aged woman watched Rex through the kitchen window, one soapy dish frozen midway to the sink. Rex waved and she turned away in horror. He glanced down and noticed that the boa’s head was protruding from between his legs like a living penis. He opened the mailbox, but it was empty. The boa tightened around Rex’s leg until it started to tingle. “How do you like those myths coming back from Sangre?”
    Donald laughed. “I suppose it makes sense. In hectic times, people are more prone to project the uncertainties of the world onto something tangible.”
    “Monsters.”
    “Indeed. The Galápagos are a land of strange creatures to begin with. It’s already in the cultural unconscious.”
    “Darwin’s