by Al K. Line
"Now, let me tell you the story of the bee."
"I'm not a baby you know?"
"You're never too old for a story, and anyway, this is to make you understand stuff. It isn't a fairytale." Beamer crossed his legs and leaned forward, actions at odds with his protestations. Even Leel sat expectantly. Arcene felt like she was about to give a lecture, which she supposed she was. She cleared her throat, feeling awkward being the center of attention. "Okay, here we go. Once upon a time there—"
"I thought it wasn't a fairytale?"
"It isn't," snapped Arcene. "Just listen. Once upon a time there was a young girl with beautiful silver hair. She was exceptionally pretty but a little naughty, always getting into trouble, although she didn't mean to. She had no one to tell her what was good or bad.
"Now, this little girl was always hungry and always on the lookout for food, so she would spend her days hunting and sometimes even stealing. One beautiful summer's day she was walking through a field full of flowers, just like this one, and she thought it would be nice to pick some — she was feeling happy, her belly was full and she had even managed to store some extra food back at her home. To celebrate she wanted to pick flowers and take them home, make her rather untidy house a little prettier. The flowers were bright and they smelled divine too, so she picked a bunch of them, breaking off the long stems, happy as she daydreamed about how sweet they would smell indoors.
"Bees buzzed about as she gathered them, and butterflies flew all around her. She picked the flowers idly, lost in daydreams of food and having a clean house, although she knew she never would as she always forgot to wash anything or put anything away. Once finished she realized that she had a huge number of flowers, loads of them, and it was actually way more than she needed or could put in her vases. She threw some of the flowers away, not bothering to take them home as she didn't need them.
"Anyway, off she went. She took the flowers home, put them in vases and admired how they made the house look more cheerful. When she woke in the morning the whole house smelled wonderful, the scent permeating every room, making the girl happy.
"She got on with her life, doing what she always did, and in a few days the flowers all died so she threw them out. A few months later when she was walking in the woods she came across a bear, a huge thing, all teeth and claws and dark fur. But it was dead. The big bear was just lying on the ground, at the base of a tree, and beside it was a large bees nest, or the remains of it anyway. It was torn apart."
"What happened?" asked Beamer, wide-eyed at the thought of the bear.
"The poor thing died of hunger. It had been unable to find food, and as it weakened it went where it went every year, to the bees nest, to raid the honey. The bear was so hungry it didn't have the energy to go anywhere else, but the honey would have been enough for it to survive, and then it would have found food and had baby bears and lived for many years to come. But it didn't.
"The girl that had picked the flowers had thought nothing of a bear when she made her home beautiful for a few days. She certainly hadn't thought about the bees. But because she took so many flowers then the bees that would normally have gone back to the nest had to travel further away to find flowers, and a large group of them went so far that they never made it back to the nest with all the other bees. It meant that the queen that never left the nest wasn't able to have enough baby bees as there wasn't enough honey to feed her properly, so all the other bees left too, leaving it empty.
"Picking the flowers meant there weren't as many bees in the world, meaning there were less flowers in the future as they weren't pollinated, and it meant there were a lot less bears too."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to kill the bears and the bees, I was just playing with my stick." Beamer fought back tears, closing in on himself. He wrapped his arms around bent legs.
Leel began to whine.
"Hey, don't get upset. It wasn't your fault and sometimes things just happen. But everything we do means something. Everything. Each footstep can effect the whole planet, make a future that is different, which is super cool, but scary too, right?" Beamer nodded. "So, don't go whacking stuff with sticks just because you want to. Think about it."
I sound like a right old bossy woman, this is crazy. Arcene surprised herself, normally she wouldn't dream of saying such things, not even to Lucien. This was a sure sign she was missing him terribly: talking to him, watching him play. Most of all being able to show him what was right and wrong, making up as best she could for the youth she never had, trying to be an adult even though what she had done to herself prevented it from becoming a reality.
"I'll be careful from now on, no more sticks," said Beamer. He stood and looked Arcene squarely in the eye, giving a promise he very much intended to keep.
"Hey, I don't mean no sticks, just no smacking poor defenseless plants when they have done nothing to deserve it. Now, if they were plants that reached out with tendrils and attacked you, and tried to eat your brains, then you should hit them. Whack 'em good."
Beamer studied the tall plants that circled them, backing up to Arcene for protection. "Are there really plants that will do that? How do you fight them?"
"I'm just joking," said Arcene, putting a hand to his shoulder. "Or am I? Haha. Come on, let's get moving, we'll get you home today, how does that sound?"
"Great. Really great. Can I ride Leel? I like it."
"Sure, if Leel says you can. How about it Leel, you want to give Beamer a ride? It'll be fun, and you might even get a bigger lunch if you're good." At the promise of more food Leel sprang into action, nudging Beamer's hand with her wet nose. Beamer jumped on, settling against the backpack for extra support. "Good girl Leel. No running too fast though, and don't drop him."
Leel moved at a good pace through the field, all Arcene could see was the top of Beamer's head poking above the flowers, saved from his mighty stick.
She hurried after them, belly rumbling now that she'd mentioned lunch. The snack hadn't even touched the sides.
"Well, what do we have here then?" said the man, a sly grin spreading across his face. Arcene had seen the look before, enough times to know that he was anything but friendly. The wind whipped at the man's dark, greasy hair, and he actually rubbed his hands together, Arcene didn't think people did that in real life in such an obvious fashion. Maybe he didn't realize he was doing it?
"You know you're rubbing your hands together, don't you?" asked Arcene matter-of-factly.
"Eh? What?" A weasel, that's what he reminded her of: all sneaky and with odd jittery movements, like he had twitches he couldn't control. He looked at his hands, then brought them out to his sides, palms up. "Oh, just a habit. I meant nothing by it. What's a pretty little thing like you doing out here with just a little boy? Hello young fella, you having an adventure with your big sister are you?" He paid Beamer little attention, his eyes returning quickly to Arcene. This time he licked his lips.
"She's not my sister," said Beamer, taking a step closer to Arcene.
"Is that right? Now, where might you two be going then?"
"We're going to the city. Arcene's taking me home," said Beamer.
"Quiet Beamer, don't talk to him. We'll be on our way now. Excuse us." Arcene took a step forward, knowing what was to come, but giving him the benefit of the doubt. As expected, the man side-stepped so they couldn't get past, making Arcene stop.
"Now, that's no way to be friendly. You want to be friendly don't you? Why not stay for a while, come visit with me? I don't live far away."
"No thank you, we have things to do." Here we go, he thinks he can just take us. Arcene had encountered others like this man over the years, not just male, somehow always surprised how warped some people's minds were. She'd had a couple take her as they wanted children, families attempt to grab her as they wanted their own personal slave, and men had tried to take her for... Well, she had been too young to know what they'd wanted, but knew it wasn't nice. Only one man ever succeeded, the first, and the last.
"Aw, come on, it's awful lonely around here you know, especially since the wife got The Lethargy. I'm all alone now. How about keeping a fella company, keep him warm in the night? I'll look after you, give you food and shelter. How does that sound?"
"Bad."
"Eh, what?" spluttered the man, not expecting Arcene to be standing her ground. It was obvious he assumed she would be nervous, scared, and easy to take. Her incarceration of seven years ago came flooding back. The things done to her, the humiliation and the anger threatening to boil over any second. "You better watch it young missy, I'm only trying to be friendly. I think you will be coming with me, just you." He pointed at Arcene, then stared hard at Beamer, trying to scare him off. He pulled out a knife from his belt, lifting a ragged shirt to gain access.
"Stand back Beamer, stand well back." Arcene noted the confusion on his face as Beamer stared at the man's knife. His legs were shaking. This kind of thing clearly didn't happen that often to him. Once more Arcene wondered just how he had been brought up. How isolated had he been?
"Now," said the man, "we can do this the easy way, or the hard way."
"It will be easy for me, not so easy for you."
The man smiled, but the more he stared at Arcene, the more the confident grin faded, replaced first by doubt, then anger. Arcene held his gaze, sized him up the same way he had her, like she was nothing but a commodity, his for the taking. He was a scrawny man, probably in his thirties, and more than likely he genuinely was alone — most people were. Some people made amazing lives for themselves, others never seemed to get the hang of being happy or content. They roamed, looking for something they could never find — the only way to be happy was to allow yourself to be, not by searching for something that would never be found. He seemed like one of those men, a wanderer, and the years had turned him bad.
A nasty man.
She'd met his type before; it never ended well. For them.
Leel returned from her hunt. The high hills they wandered in were abundant with wildlife and she'd had a great hour hunting and running along the various animal tracks, sniffing dementedly at the ground as she chased down her prey.
She dropped the quail in front of Arcene, then sat by her side. She didn't growl, didn't bare her teeth, just sat, and stared at the man.
"Good girl Leel, you look like you've been busy." Arcene bent and whispered to Leel, then stood.
"What... what you whispering about?" said the man, his words stuttering at the sight of the impressive beast.
"I was just telling Leel to be a good girl and not to just eat you right this very second," said Arcene, dismissing the notion with a wave of her hand. "I figured it should be a fair fight, not that you deserve it. She won't hurt you."
"Is that right? A fair fight is it? You think you can fight me? You, a young girl. There's nothing you can do." He was trying to put on a show, pretend he wasn't scared, act like Leel wasn't freaking him out.
"I will give you one chance," said Arcene. "Go away and that will be the end of it. Otherwise—"
"Otherwise what? I'm the one with the knife."
"You call that a knife? What about this?" Arcene pulled the sword from behind her, blade flashing as it caught the sun, now at it's zenith.
Her opponent gulped, but then that sickly smile spread across his face again. "It's one thing having a sword, it's another to know how to use it."
It was obvious the man wouldn't back down. Leel may have been a worry, but he appeared confident in his abilities, although how he thought he could ever stand up to her companion, Arcene couldn't figure out.
"Leel, take Beamer and wait over there." Arcene pointed to a group of rocks off to the left, a little up the slope of the hill. They were standing on a shingle path that weaved through the hills, leading to the city, and it was the man's misfortune that he encountered Arcene going the opposite direction.
Leel dragged at Beamer's sleeve and although he protested she led him to the rocks where they both stood. Leel knew when Arcene was to be obeyed and when she could get away with being naughty — Arcene with sword in hand was not when you disobeyed.
"One last chance. Go away!" shouted Arcene.
"You'll pay for this. Wait until I get you back home."
Arcene backed up a handful of paces, thoughts racing, deciding what the best move was. "You like young girls do you? Like scaring them and doing things to them? You think you have a right?"
"I do what I want." The weasel shrugged. "I take what I want."
Arcene didn't respond. She dropped to one knee, sword held behind her, the tip resting delicately on the ground. She thought for a second, then a smile spread across her face. Why waste one of her special moves on this man? He wasn't even worth it. She stood, trailing the sword by her side, and moved forward. The wind lifted her kilt a little; the man's eyes devoured her bare thighs greedily.
Idiot.
Arcene moved closer, then went into jōdan-no-kamae, sword held overhead two-handed, blade pointing up, tip pointing back. Her left leg moved forward, bent at the knee, elbows wide, pigtails dangling down her front. This was a basic stance, one that left much of your body open to attack, but for the confident swordsman it was the most deadly.
Arcene winked at the weasel.
With a growl he lunged for her belly with the knife. Arcene watched it unfold in slow motion, Awoken reflexes slowing time so the man moved at a snail's pace. She saw his awkward movement, watched his legs shuffle forward, not keeping proper balance. He stabbed at her belly while most of his mid-section, not to mention his head, was exposed. He thought he would get her, he genuinely did, thinking she was just a young girl with a sword but no knowledge of how to use it. He had made a mistake; it would be his last.
Arcene didn't even move her feet, just turned her upper body to the side, shrinking the target. She leaned away from the clumsy move like a feather blowing in the breeze.
As he sailed past she knocked him playfully on the top of his head. "Bonk. Next one will kill you, I promise. You can still leave." Arcene was being generous and she didn't know why. Maybe looking after Beamer had made her less interested in killing? She also knew it would scare the boy, and she didn't want to do that.
The man raised a hand to his head, the fear he was sliced written large on his face. Fear turned to anger as Arcene smiled at him. She turned to face him properly, adjusting her stance, repeating the same as before.
He lunged for Arcene again. "You little bi—"
It was over.
Arcene let go of the sword as the man keeled over backward, the blade embedded in his skull, cleaved down to the bridge of his nose. As he fell, the tip of the sword sank deep into the soft peat of the hill to the side of the path. Arcene stepped over to him, put a foot on his chest and yanked two-handed on the sword. It came free with a sick squelch. She frowned at her dirty and bloody sword, bent and wiped it as best she could on the weasel's shirt, then reached back and slid it gently into its scabbard. Arcene was tempted to say "Snick" just for effect — the many movies she'd watched meant there were always sound effects in her head when she used her sword.
She satisfied herself with standing, arms out to the side, letting the wind whip at her kilt, her pigtails bouncing wildly, one foot still on the back of her attacker. For a second, just for a second, she entered the mind of Leel like a whisper, and saw the image she presented.
She looked cool: dangerous, young and deadly, the pink bunnies on the socks comical amid the carnage. That was the look though, you had to have your "thing." All the best heroines in the anime she devoured had their own distinct style.
Beamer cried.
Damn, should of thought about that a little more. No need to be dramatic, especially in front of nine-year-olds. Arcene receded from Leel, thanking her friend for the short stay. Leel gave her a virtual lick in The Noise, radiating contentment, and Arcene was once again in her own head.
"Sorry," she said, looking at Beamer. "You okay?"
"You
killed him. Just like that," said Beamer in wonder. "Wow!"
"He would have hurt us, done bad things. He had his chance and he still wouldn't leave."
"Can you teach me?" asked Beamer, as he moved down the bank to her, almost running straight into the corpse as he picked up speed in his excitement.
"Um, well, maybe when you're older. Besides, you'll be home later today, and then me and Leel have things to do."
"Oh," said Beamer, head hanging low, staring at his feet.
"Hey, don't be sad. We'll see each other again, promise."
"Really? You promise? I, um, I kind of thought you might stay with us, me and Father, once we get home."
"We can't, I'm sorry. And I think we better have a little chat soon. You need to tell me what happened to you out here, you know that don't you?"
"S'pose. Don't wanna though, it was scary."
"I bet, but I can take it. And you made it out, right? You're brave too."
"You think so?" said Beamer, smiling at the compliment.
"Sure. Now, let's get out of the wind and have lunch. Want to grab the birds?" asked Arcene, pointing at the catch by the side of the path.
Drem Scarpino was lonelier than he'd been in his entire life. Even his beautiful garden, his pride and joy, second only to his son, couldn't bring him solace on what should have been a glorious day to be working the earth.
Everything felt flat, listless, the warm air hanging heavy, the humidity high as he walked between the rows of corn, peeling back the paper-like protective leaves around the emerging cobs. They would be as sweet as always, juice exploding in the mouth after being cooked over coals, the way he and Beamer preferred them.
At the thought of his son he smiled, remembering how he was always so happy and optimistic, full of vitality and life as only the young can be, carefree and unaware of the dangers of the world. The moment he saw the boy he knew his name, that huge grin there even before Beamer opened his eyes for the first time and stared at his father, emotions battling between thankfulness that his son had survived, despair and loneliness grabbing at him as the only woman he'd ever loved died from a complicated birth.