The Sting of the Bee

by K E Lanning

  He sat her down in the living room. “I’ll make a cup of tea,” he said, and walked to the kitchen.

  She heard sounds of Daddy rolling in the dirt of the garden.

  “John, don’t leave me alone,” Lowry called out in a fragile voice.

  “I’m right here, honey,” he said, and glanced at the clock. “Um, let me get you some clothes. The police might be here soon.”

  He started back down the hall, then she heard thuds and groans.

  She called out, “John, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I just had to step on the ‘cockroach’ again.”

  He returned from her bedroom with clothes and she went into the guest room to change. She laid the clothes on the bed and slid out of the robe. Cold, she shivered, and quickly pulled on the pants and sweatshirt. She stared at her trembling fingers and struggled to keep from crying. With a sigh, she staggered up and moved into the bathroom, and looked in the mirror. Lowry touched her swollen and bruised face, tears blurring her vision. She shook her head, staring at her reflected image. It could have been worse.

  Lowry ran cool water on a washcloth and patted her wounds. Brushing her hair, she flinched as John yelled from the kitchen, “Tea’s ready!”

  In a daze, she walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. With trembling fingers, she spooned in some sugar. Her face throbbed in pain as she stared vacantly out the window, sipping the hot drink.

  John sat down beside her and took her hand. “Lowry, come stay with us for a few days, at least until this place is cleaned up.”

  “I don’t know, John, I have animals to take care of.” A tear ran down her face as she remembered. “They killed Sparky.”

  John slipped his arm around her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Lowry.” With a sigh, he stared at the table, and shook his head. “Humans are vicious animals.” He paused, staring at her intently. “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself. At least stay with us until you heal. Ginnie and I will help with the horses.”

  With a sigh, Lowry nodded.

  They both jumped when someone banged on the door. John rose, picked up his shotgun, and walked to the broken door. When he opened it, a young man with a badge hastily pinned on his farm clothes stood on the steps.

  The young man cleared his throat and said, “You called the police?”

  “Yes, I’m John Barrous, from the next farm over.” He peered behind the young man. “Are you alone?”

  Shrugging, he nodded.

  John said, “Well, come in,” with a tilt of his head.

  The young man stepped into the house and shuffled over to Lowry. With a pensive smile, he said, “I’m Lieutenant Martin Levin, from the volunteer fire and police department of this sector. Mr. Barrous telephoned that you had a couple of men break in here?”

  She nodded her head but did not look at him. “Yes.”

  John glanced at Lowry and turned to Lt. Levin. “Let me show you what happened,” and led him into the garden.

  They returned with the older man in cuffs.

  “Ma’am, I’m afraid someone will have to return later to get photos and remove the body,” Lt. Levin said softly. “You may want to get to the clinic and see to those wounds.”

  Nodding, John gazed at Lowry. “Yes, we need to make sure she’s all right.”

  The officer shoved the older man, twice his weight, out the door.

  John called after him, “Don’t turn your back on him, son.”

  Numbly, Lowry watched John pull eggs from the refrigerator and crack them into a bowl. He set a pan onto the stove, threw in a pat of butter, and turned on the heat. He beat the eggs into a froth with a whisk, the harsh whipping sound of the metal against metal raking her ears. The egg yolks sizzled hitting the hot pan. John set the table and Lowry blinked against the noise of clattering dishes.

  He sat across from her, then reached out and squeezed her hand. “Try to eat something.”

  Nodding, Lowry picked up her fork, staring down at the plate full of scrambled eggs, her stomach churning.

  The corpse lay waiting in the garden.

  CHAPTER 16

  John opened his eyes in the pitch-black room. He asked softly, “P, what time is it?”

  His phone answered, “Four forty-eight in the morning, John.”

  He grunted. With a yawn, he sat up, tucked an extra pillow behind his head, then leaned back. It was cold. He pulled the blankets over his chest.

  P asked, “John, are you ready for me to roll up the dark shades?”

  “Yes, please. And you can turn the alarm off. I’m awake.”

  The dark shades rolled up and a pale blue sky met his eyes. The sun rested on the horizon, and shadow and light played across the undulating fields, and where the sun’s rays touched the frost, the landscape shimmered like diamonds.

  John rolled out of bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. The room lights brightened, and he shoved his unruly hair out of his face. He scratched his head and glanced at the clothes he’d thrown over the chair the night before. Planting day.

  He smelled coffee brewing. “Thanks, P.”

  “You’re welcome, John. Best wishes for a successful day.”

  He pulled on his clothes and finished his morning ablutions, then proceeded into the kitchen. He breathed in the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, poured himself a large mug and sipped the hot liquid. The sunlight crept over the window sill and beamed into the kitchen. He jammed a muffin in his mouth, then threw on his coat and walked outside.

  The summer sun had begun to rise. John gazed at the sky scattered with pale stars, like a faded pair of blue jeans with a few lingering rhinestones. It was going to be a brilliant day, with enough bite in the air to make it interesting. The fields had been prepped by removing the native vegetation and now lay waiting for seed. He walked to the barn to make sure everything was ready for the big event.

  Last week, he had helped with another neighbor’s farm planting barley. With four robotic tractors and several men to load seed onto waiting hoppers, they planted over a few days what would take one person a month to accomplish.

  He opened the barn, stepped inside the chilly interior, and flipped on the small heater. John set up a coffee and water station and then laid out various snacks on a table. He rubbed his cold hands and checked the time. When will the crew arrive?

  As the building warmed, the aroma of wheat rose from the bags stacked next to the wall, ready for planting. He left the barn at the sound of tractors pulling up in the yard. John directed the crew to a parking area, and then they jumped off of the robo-tractors and out of hovers.

  “Have some coffee!” he yelled, gesturing to the coffee station. He poured several steaming cups and handed them around. John noticed a young man standing with the group, dressed in boots and a big cowboy hat.

  With a grin, the young man stepped up to John and stuck out his hand. “Howdy, I’m Lowry’s new hired hand, Chuy. Lowry had to go into Amundsen today, and she sent me over to help with the crew, in her place.”

  “Happy to have you.” He shook his hand and gave him a cup of coffee. “Where are you from, Chuy?”

  Chuy smiled. “Arizona, mostly.”

  John nodded, studying Chuy’s honest face. “I hope Antarctica suits you and I’m glad that Lowry has help over there. You’re welcome to breakfast.”

  Chuy walked over to the snack table and grabbed a biscuit.

  John was relieved that Lowry had someone at the farm, and he hoped Chuy worked out. He smiled watching Chuy saunter to the barn—at least he wasn’t wearing spurs.

  The rest of the neighbors arrived. One of the more experienced farmers gathered the crew in front of the barn. John had been a minor player in the last planting and was more than aware of his shortcomings as a real farmer.

  Bags of wheat were brought to the seed hopper on a hover cart. The lead farmer gestured for John to throw up the first bag. He slung the seed bag up to the hopper opening, but then stared in confusion at the mechanics of the actual loading.
He glanced up and saw the grins on the faces surrounding him.

  He chuckled and said, “Okay, show me how to do this!”

  Laughing, they gathered around him, smiling faces from every corner of the globe, now a team of equals creating a new world: The Brazilians who had fallen into the permafrost, still with casts on their broken limbs; a lesbian couple from Australian; the tall Nigerian he had seen at the starting line; a Pakistani man; a scientist from China; and two men from Europe. The friendly faces lifted his spirits—a growing kinship between diverse people, true friendship based on loyalty and hard work. Not a hierarchy of masters and pseudo-slaves of the corporate world he had fled.

  It would be a long day of planting wheat, but the only time for a human to guide the robot tractors. Once the field was programmed into the computer, the dimensions of his land was stored into the farm’s virtual memory to be accessed each season, until a change in crop or use occurred. As the plows ripped into the land, John inhaled the rich aroma. In the wake of the tractors, dust swirled into the air, and birds hopped in the fertile soil for insects.

  The planting went smoothly until a tractor broke down around noon. They took a lunch break while two of the men replaced the hydrogen fuel cell. John walked up to the house for cold drinks and turned at the top of the hill to gaze at the plowed rows of black earth drying in the sun.

  After replacing the cell on the tractor, they returned to planting. In the warmth of the afternoon, John struggled to remove his jacket, driving the catlike tractor along the endless rows.

  At the end of the day, he was pleased with their progress, but exhausted. They returned to the barn and John pulled on his coat against a chill wind. Someone called his name from afar and he turned to see Lowry cantering her mare toward him. Two furry puppy faces stuck out of a pouch strapped around her.

  She halted the mare and said, “I brought Ginnie a present.” She stroked their heads. “I have a puppy for me and one for Ginnie—they’re Golden Retrievers.”

  He scratched the pups under their ears and glanced up at her. “I see.” He examined her face. The bruises from the attack by the two men had faded to a pale yellow. Her smile wavered with a lingering hint of fragility. He clenched his jaw.

  Her brow furrowed. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  John shook his head. “Not at all. What’s a farm without a dog?” He stroked each puppy’s face. “How have you been, Lowry?”

  She drew in a long breath. “I’m better. Thanks so much for letting me stay a couple of days until they cleaned up—”

  He held up his hand. “Sure, no problem. And I met Chuy. He seems to be a good guy. I’m glad you have someone else at the farm.”

  With a broad smile, he waved her toward the house. “Let’s show Ginnie—she’ll love the puppy!” He called out, “Ginnie! Lowry’s here with something to show you.”

  Lowry dismounted, pulled the sack off of her shoulder and placed it gently on the ground. She opened the top and the two puppies scrambled out, barking at John. Chuckling, he knelt and ruffled their blond coats.

  Ginnie ran out of the house, screaming when she saw the puppies. “What cute puppies! Are they your new dogs, Lowry?”

  “One of them is yours.”

  “Really?” Ginnie turned to John, who nodded with a smile.

  “Pick one of them,” Lowry said. “I’m taking the other one.”

  Ginnie played with them and then picked up the one who nuzzled her hand. “I’ll take this one.” She cuddled him and the puppy licked her face. “Dad, let’s name him Henry—I’ve always liked that name.”

  “Henry it is.”

  “A great name, Ginnie. I’m going to name his brother Leo.” Lowry patted him on the head. John turned to her. “It’s very nice of you to give us a puppy, Lowry. How can we repay you?”

  With a slight shake of her head, she smiled. “You’ve saved my life, let’s see, how many times now? The question is—how can I repay you?”

  He grinned. “I didn’t have anything else to do.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Lowry tapped her fingers against her leg and checked the horizon again for any sign of dust from vehicles on the road. She hated the waiting more than anything. Her cattle were supposed to arrive today. They should have been here this morning but had been delayed at the port by some snafu at the agricultural department. She’d sent Chuy to guide them back, but she hadn’t heard from him since this morning, and then only a terse message about forms to process.

  Clouds were gathering on the horizon and Lowry hoped they’d arrive before the stormy weather hit. It had been unfortunate that the delivery of the cow barn had been delayed, but Chuy had told her that cattle were used to living out.

  Lowry was feeding the horses at the end of the day when she spotted the dust cloud she’d been waiting for. Six trucks came into view, the first five jammed with reddish-brown Highland cattle, but the last had only one animal—the bull. She heaved a sigh of relief and walked to the corral.

  As the trucks approached, Lowry examined the pen and crossed her fingers it would hold the cattle. They had used solar electric fencing for the horses, but this new fencing system used lasers beams to hold the animals. The system had tall metal posts on four corners, embedded with a series of laser components spaced along the vertical length of the interior of the post, but no horizontal rails. Solar- and wind-powered, with a battery backup, it was touted as keeping animals inside better than any traditional fencing, but she was still a bit nervous about it. Fencing her property with conventional means, with imported wooden fence posts would be outrageous in cost, since there wasn’t enough lumber available in Antarctica.

  The six trucks stopped, and a cloud of dust enveloped them. Chuy jumped down and walked toward her. “All accounted for, Lowry.”

  “I was beginning to think cattle rustlers had waylaid you guys.”

  With a frown, he shook his head. “No, worse—the Antarctic Agricultural Department.”

  Lowry switched on the lasers to the fence, and the red beams shot around the perimeter, closing the gaps except for the chute leading from the truck ramps. Chuy signaled for the hands to get the cattle moving.

  At first, the cows balked, but then ran down the chute, and circled within the red laser pen. Lowry exhaled, relieved that the lasers had held. She had chosen to start her ranch with Highland cattle, with their thick shaggy coats, their ability to survive frigid climates, and the excellent quality of their meat.

  A truckload at a time, they backed up to the ramps leading to the chute, and unloaded the cattle into the pen. She counted the cattle as they barreled down the ramps—a full hundred head. The dust swirled around them and she held a handkerchief over her mouth and nose. Last was the majestic bull, with his long horns, descending the ramp into the pen. Once he reached the dirt of the corral, he threw his head up with a sniff, examining his new home. With a bellow, he ambled over to the cows, already grazing on the hay bales they had placed in the center. The herd settled in, and though several were bloodied from the long pilgrimage, they seemed in good shape. Lowry paid the drivers and they drove back to Amundsen.

  She walked back to the corral and leaned on the gate. “I hope we can handle these cattle by ourselves,” she said to Chuy. “Those horns are intimidating.”

  He smiled. “I’ve handled Longhorns all my life, and with my two herd dogs and those cuttin’ horses you bought, these Highlanders shouldn’t be any problem.”

  Her eyes twinkled at his youthful confidence. She had hired him through the ranch from which she had purchased the cutting horses and knew he was a good hand, but she didn’t feel as confident. A young heifer walked toward the perimeter, then shied away from the energy along the laser beams. Even with the entire herd inside, the fence seemed to be holding.

  Lowry grinned. I’m a bona-fide rancher. The wind began to rise as they settled down for the night. She zipped her jacket and walked to the house.

  After dinner, the exhaustion of the day hit her and she cra
wled into bed and slept soundly. In the middle of the night, a flash of light hit her subconscious. The following thunder, rippling in frightening proximity, roused her awake, and she sat up in bed. She slipped out from the covers and pulled on a robe.

  She stumbled to the window, calling softly to her phone, “Raise the shades, please.”

  The dark shades rose. With a rat-tat-tat, the rain pelted against the exterior glass. A new flash of lightning splintered across the sky, illuminating the room like a searchlight. Lowry clutched her robe as the boom of thunder shook the windowpanes.

  The rain obscured her view of the corral. Even from the house she could hear their uneasy mooing. Another blast of lightning flashed overhead and exposed the wet bodies of the cows, milling about like worms in a bait bucket.

  The storm was strengthening. She wouldn’t be able to sleep with the wailing winds and cracking thunder. She pulled on a sweater and work pants, and then brushed her hair back with her fingers.

  She returned to the window, peering out at the pen. A bolt of lightning hit the power supply panel for the fence and it exploded like fireworks. The cattle nearby jumped away as the sparks showered down on them. The red laser fence went dark.

  “Oh my god!”

  Another crack of lightning and the cattle bolted, running straight through the openings in the corral.

  She rang Chuy’s number.

  His voice was groggy. “Hello?”

  “The cows are out! Lightning blew the power to the pen!”

  “Shit!”

  Her hands shook as she fought to put on her rain gear. She bolted out of the house and into the driving rain. Halfway to the stables, lightning zipped to the earth, and the itch of electricity crawled over her body. Two more steps and the boom of thunder cracked over her. The soil oozed beneath her feet, gripping her boots as she staggered to the stable.