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 fucker.'
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
Samantha 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 horseshit 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 assigned to the investigation. I am going to do everything I personally can to see that you're shitcanned. 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 glass 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 Assessment Division here.' She pushed an errant strand of hair off her cheek. 'Don't call me darling. It just makes you look like an ass.'
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
Rex 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 booby mating grounds. They crested a small rise, and dozens of the birds spread before them, spaced evenly across the lava.
One booby 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 booby was odd-looking. It lowered its beak, panting, vibrating its wattle to shed heat. Most of the other boobies sat with their heads turned backward, accessing 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 booby 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 booby 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 passed 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 passed the aeries, Rex was glad to reclaim the lead. The steepness of the island's east side allowed them to pass 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 pass, 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-altitude transition zone. Pega
