pegas-short-stemmed trees with spread branches and coarse, 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 anticipate 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 mass 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 grassy 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 space. 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 sturdy 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, passing 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 shit'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 grass. 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.'
'Okay, my ass,' Cameron yelled. 'He came at Rex with a fucking ax.' She bent the man's head forward even more sharply, and his face darkened a few shades. His mouth was working open and closed, trying to find air.
The pregnant woman continued to chatter in Spanish, and Diego talked over her, translating for the others as quickly as he could. 'You scared them… they thought the island was abandoned… there's danger here, something that's been picking off the villagers…stalking their live-stock…'
The woman stepped forward, pleading with Cameron, and Cameron shook her head, clearly not keeping up with the Spanish. Cameron released the man, who fell onto all fours, vainly trying to suck air in. Finally his lungs loosened, inhaling in a deep screeching rush, and he almost convulsed, his shoulders heaving. 'Lo siento,' he said between breaths. 'Lo siento, lo siento.'
Derek looked at Cameron, and she stepped back, her arms loose at her sides. 'He says he's sorry,' she said.
They all sat around the wooden table in the small house, Floreana bustling near the sink gracefully, despite her enormous belly. Diego was pleased to make the connection between Ramon and his son, and he conveyed that Ramoncito was doing well at Puerto Ayora. At the mention of her son's name, Floreana stopped pumping the spigot handle abruptly. She took a moment to gather herself before returning to washing the dishes.
She had served them encebollado, a native tuna soup laden with onion and yuca. Cameron watched the bulge beneath Floreana's apron, scratching her forehead at the hairline. 'Are you nine months?' she asked in Spanish.
Floreana shook her head nervously and held up six fingers.
'Jesus,' Cameron muttered. 'She's huge for six months.'
Ramon said something, and Diego nodded. 'He said he wishes they'd left like the others, but he doesn't think he can move her safely now given how big she is. He thinks she'll deliver early.'
Floreana reached over to clear Cameron's plate, and Cameron laid a hand on her arm. Their eyes met, Floreana a bit surprised.
'When we leave,' Cameron said, 'we'll take you with us. Get you to a hospital where you'll be taken care of.' She spoke slowly so that Diego could translate.
Floreana smiled, her eyes filling with emotion. She placed her hand over Cameron's and squeezed it once tightly.
Derek tapped his spoon against the edge of his bowl. 'I'm not sure you can make that promise, Cam,' he said softly.
Floreana cleared several more of their bowls and stood washing them, hunching forward so that her stomach didn't press up against the basin. Cameron watched her for a moment, then lowered her eyes to the table. She ran a hand through her hair, troubled.
'You're right,' she said. 'I'm sorry.'
'I'm having a bit of trouble with the accent,' Rex said to Diego. 'Ask them if they knew Frank.'
Diego spoke with Ramon, and Ramon smiled at the mention of the man. 'Si,' he said. 'El huevo gordo.' He pointed at his wife, and when Cameron looked puzzled, he held his arms out to indicate a big stomach.
'Yes,' Rex said in Spanish. 'He was a touch on the heavy side.'
Ramon spoke slowly, so Cameron was able to keep up with his Span-ish. 'He came here a few times, trying to get me to come look at some-thing he'd put in that big freezer of his. He always seemed upset, his face sweaty and red, and he stumbled through his Spanish, so it was difficult to understand him. Finally, I told him I was busy with my crops and ani-mals and I had no time for his fancy toys and ideas. I told him nosing around like that was bad luck. And I was right.' Ramon sat back and folded his arms, a sad expression on his face. 'At first I thought he'd just gone home and left his things behind because that's how Norteameri-canos are.'
'But now?' Rex asked. 'Now what do you think happened to him?'
Ramon spoke rapidly for a few minutes, losing Cameron. She waited patiently, catching a phrase here and there. Ramon finally finished and Diego stared at the table, tracing a ridge with his index finger.
