by Brian Bakos
Part Four: Desperation
14. Attack!
Out in the play area, the wood chips covering the ground begin to heave and boil like waves on a nightmare ocean. The solid spots Quentin and Tommy had been running over only moments before now have a life of their own.
We all gape, our shocked brains unable to grasp what our eyes are seeing. Then, from under the wood chips, comes something way beyond incredible.
A hoard of red ants, each as long as my hand, explodes into view. They surge out of the playground like something from a science fiction horror movie.
“ANT ATTACK!” Melissa screams.
Within moments, they overtake the abandoned donuts and devour them. Then they form into a single column and march straight towards us. Hundreds, thousands of ants.
Melissa leaps on top the picnic table, quickly followed by Tommy and Quentin. We all crowd together, terrified.
“Watch it!” Quentin yells.
The table begins tipping over. We all rush to the opposite side, and the table starts tipping that direction.
“Spread out,” Quentin says.
We balance ourselves around the table, and the frightful rocking motion stops. Below us, the ants mill about, tumbling over each other, their vicious pincers snapping. Their straight marching order has crumpled into an ugly, seething mass of insects.
They try to climb up the curved, metal table legs, slip down, try again. Then they start piling on top each other, making a living stairway up to us. The ones on top smash down those below.
“They’ll be up here any minute!” Tommy cries.
Quentin jumps up to the thick tree limb above us, grabs it with both hands, and hoists himself on top.
“Come on, everyone!” he yells.
He doesn’t have to ask us twice. In nothing flat all of us are on top the limb, even Davis, although he has to be pushed and shoved.
“Whew, that was close,” Quentin says. “I’ve never seen such ants.”
“I have, on TV,” Tommy says. “The Jungle Jerry show. These rain forest ants can eat a water buffalo, or a whole person right down to the bones!”
“Oh, wonderful,” I groan.
This definitely doesn’t sound entertaining.
“I saw that show, too,” Davis says. “but these things are a thousand times worse.”
“They’re worse than that story we read at school,” Melissa says. “About that Leiningen guy fighting the ants in South America.”
“Maybe there’s been a super atomic bomb test,” Quentin says. “The kind that turns ordinary bugs into monsters – radioactive fallout.”
“As long as we don’t fallout of this tree!” Davis whines.
“At least they’re not as big as the ants in Them!” Tommy says.
That is very cold comfort. What these creatures lack in size they make up for with ferociousness.
Below us, the ants look even fiercer than before – and very, very angry. Their snapping pincers and scrambling feet make a crackling, hissing sound, like insane bacon frying. Overhead, a large four-motored airliner roars past, its propellers making a tremendous racket. I’d give anything to be up there with the passengers, flying to anywhere but here.
“The ants on TV – ” Tommy begins.
“Enough about the ants on TV already!” Melissa and I shout.
That is really unfair of us, but we’re desperate. We have to do something soon. Sure we could jump down and try to run, but that would be pretty risky. We might get eaten.
“That’s the way of the world,” as my Grandpa would say. “One minute you’re eating lunch, the next minute you are lunch.”
Ants are swarming all over the table now, looking vicious and hungry. A gazillion deadly pincers wave, aching to tear something apart. Us!
“Throw the donuts down,” Melissa says. “That’s what they’re after.”
I shake my head.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “That would only be a little dessert for them. Once they finish the donuts, they’ll be coming after us.”
We are all silent as the horror of our situation sinks in.
“Anybody got a plan?” Quentin asks. “Besides getting devoured, that is.”
I rack my brain. There has to be a solution. How intelligent are these ants, anyway? Surely we can outsmart them – we’re people, Americans, no less.
It’s sickening how they trample and pile on top of each other – fighting and biting. They are such mindless brutes. Is there some way to use this against them?
“Better think of something fast,” Tommy says. “Look!”
A few ants leave the main body and start climbing up the tree trunk. Soon, thousands of others will follow.
I look desperately toward my friends, hoping that someone will know what to do. But their faces are gray and frightened. All of Quentin’s confidence has drained away; Melissa’s tough girl act is over; Tommy and Davis seem ready to cry. I must look just as dreadful myself.
Oh, where is Captain Exterminator when we need him!
15. A Desperate Plan
Then I have it – a desperate plan that just might save us! Well, maybe not. But what do we have to lose? If we stay put we’d soon be ant snacks.
I point to a low hanging limb on the other side of the tree. It’s not as sturdy as the one we were on, but the area beneath it is open and free of ants.
“We’ve got to get over there,” I say.
“Why?” Melissa asks. “How’s that branch any better than this one?”
“Just shut up for once and listen to me!”
Melissa looks stunned, as if somebody has smacked her with a wet towel. I shove past her and crawl to the main trunk. Then I stand up and work my way around toward the big limb on the other side.
An ant is waiting for me – the first of what will soon be a great hoard. It rears up on its back legs and threatens me with its huge pincers. I stomp it hard, and it explodes with a disgusting POP!
I make my way onto the middle of the new limb, gripping small branches to steady myself. The others catch up.
“What now, Amanda?” Tommy asks.
“Just wait here,” I say, “and keep your yo-yos handy.”
“Yo-yos, what for?”
There is no time to answer. I strip off my backpack and yank out the boxes of mini-donuts. I empty them into the pack, then toss the empty boxes away.
Don’t be a litterbug, Amanda, a voice inside my head scolds. It sounds like my crabby old teacher from second grade.
“Shut up already!” I say.
Tommy shrinks back. “Sorry.”
“Not you, Tommy. Ohhh ...”
There isn’t time to explain. I’ll explain later – if there is a later time. I crush some donuts and smear them on the outside of the pack.
“Why’d you do that?” Quentin asks.
“Bait,” I say. “Now help me down.”
I sling the pack over my shoulder and grab Quentin’s hand. He lowers me off the branch.
I let go and drop the rest of the way down. I hit the ground hard and fall on my butt. This is just the sort of thing Melissa finds hilarious under normal circumstances. But these are definitely not normal circumstances. I look up at my friends. Nobody is laughing; all have wide eyes and frightened faces.
“Be careful, Amanda!” they cry.
I look across the open ground. The thick mass of ants on top the picnic table has stopped its mad boiling. The ants on the ground stop milling about. All are looking my direction now, their antennae waving eagerly – ready for a feast.
A column of ants had been making its way up the tree trunk. It, too, stops moving.
“Hey you dummies!” I shout. “Get over here.”
I wave the backpack. A little cloud of powdered sugar billows in the air. Then the pile of ants on the table begins dropping to the ground in a horrid red shower. Their bodies hitting the dirt sound like hail pounding on a roof.
Those going up the tree trunk slip back d
own. All the ants gather into a huge deadly group. They form a single column and head right for me!
Fear smacks my gut with a giant fist. What am I doing? I’m not the heroic type. Didn’t I just panic over a couple of silly rats? I glance back at my friends, desperately wishing that I was still among them. But I’m not – because I’m the one with the plan, and without a plan we are all doomed.
As the horrible creatures rush toward me, my courage fails altogether. My knees give out and I fall flat.
16. Terror Run
But I am up in a flash and running for my life. Nightmare sounds fill the air.
Ka-Chink! Ka-Chink! go thousands of ant pincers.
“Ohhh, Ohhh!” I cry.
I move in a big circle – down toward the creek bank, out to the playground and then back to the now empty picnic table. The center of this big circle is the exact spot over which my friends wait in the tree.
“Watch out, Amanda!” they shout. “They’re gaining on you!”
The whole ant army is spread out now in single file, moving so fast that I can barely keep ahead of them.
“Come on, you can do better than that!” I shout.
I wave the backpack behind me as I flee, spreading a powdered sugar mist. I unzip the pack half way and let donuts dribble out. Each one slows the ant onslaught for only a few seconds.
The lead ant jumps onto the backpack, I flick it off. Another ant chomps at my ankle. The pain is sharp and fiery.
“Ow!”
I run faster, opening up a small lead.
By my third circuit, I am getting badly out of breath, but I dare not stop. Tighter and tighter I make the circle, moving inward toward the center. As the circle becomes smaller, the front end of the ant column passes the back end. Soon the ants have wound themselves into a spiral.
My plan is working! As the spiral gets tighter and smaller, the ants within it cannot move as fast. I am able to slow down a bit. Around and around I go, the ant spiral tightening about me. Finally, I am at a slow walk, at the center of a swirling mass of ants.
I stop below my friends.
“The yo-yo’s!” I call.
Tommy spins down both yo-yo’s. I catch them and wrap them around the backpack straps.
“Set it on the ground!”
Tommy leans far over, holding both strings in one hand. The backpack settles into the dirt.
I look out at the tightening circle of ants coming to strangle me. They are crammed so close together that they seem like one long, snaky creature wound up tight. I look up at my friends. The limb is much higher than I realized. From my position in the middle of certain death, the branch seems about as far away as the airliner was.
Quentin hooks his knees around the limb and swings down towards me, stretching out his arms.
“Come on, Amanda, grab my hands!”
I jump as high as I can, but my fingers barely touch Quentin’s. I try again, fail again. Quentin whips off his T-shirt and dangles it toward me.
“Take this, Amanda!” he shouts.
I jump up and grab the T-shirt. I’m safe!
But then the shirt rips and I fall sprawling, knocking the wind out of myself. Sharp pain tears through my side, like I’ve broken a rib. All around me the ant spiral tightens, and hopeless death closes in. I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to shut out the nightmare.
17. A Friend in Need
“Look out below!” I hear Davis yell.
THUMP!
I jerk my eyes open to see him crumpled on the ground next to me.
“Davis, what are you doing?” I say.
With surprising speed for somebody so bulky, Davis scrambles to his feet.
“Hurry, Amanda, get going!”
He forms his hands into a stirrup. I place my foot into his hands and he gives me a mighty toss. I leap right up into Quentin’s arms. In moments I am safe on top the tree limb.
I look down at a terrifying sight – Davis alone in the middle of an empty circle only a few feet across. All around him the deadly ant spiral grinds tighter, unstoppable.
“Get up here Davis,” Melissa yells. “Right now!”
He tries to jump up and grab Quentin’s hands, but is no more successful than I was.
“Quentin,” Melissa wails, “save my little brother!”
“I’m trying!” Quentin yells back.
I feel terribly guilty sitting safely in the tree while Davis is in such danger below, but what can I do? The ant circle grinds tighter around him, leaving bare inches. Melissa starts lowering herself off the limb.
“I’m coming, Davis!” she cries.
“Don’t go down there!” I shout, but she pays no attention.
Melissa is just about to let go of the limb when the ants decide things. One of them crawls onto Davis’ leg and bites him.
“Yeow!”
Davis rockets straight up, right into Quentin’s hands. The tree limb sags under the extra weight.
“I can’t hold him,” Quentin groans. “He’s too heavy.”
Davis starts slipping out of Quentin’s grip. Just as his left hand breaks free, Melissa grabs it. She and Quentin hold onto Davis for dear life. He hangs between them helplessly, like a fish dangling from a line.
“The backpack Tommy,” I say. “Get it up here.”
Tommy pulls the yo-yo strings, hoisting the backpack up to our position. Several ants clinging to it drop off. The remaining ones don’t last long under Tommy’s pounding fist.
On the ground, the ants can’t understand what’s happened. One moment they are closing in on a feast, the next moment both dessert and main course have been snatched away. They wave their antennae and snap their pincers – like their tiny cousins at Becker School park.
But like all stupid, angry creatures they can’t think of a creative way to handle their problem. They just keep walking, blindly, unable to stop.
Our limb sags above them. Quentin, Melissa, and Tommy are all hanging on to Davis who jerks and trashes around trying to climb up. I inch away towards the trunk so as to reduce the weight in one spot.
Below us, the ants crush themselves together with a terrible grinding, squishing noise. A wave of hot air blasts up from them, as if somebody has opened the door to a clothes dryer while it’s still running.
The long ant column winds in on itself like a giant watch spring. The angry, frustrated ants keep going and going until they are all jammed together. Tighter and tighter. They jam together so tightly that they’re not ants anymore, just ...
A big puddle of red goo!
The world becomes utterly silent. None of us dares to breathe.
18. Sweet Victory
CRAAAACK!
A huge split runs the length of the limb, tearing it from the tree. The limb sinks quickly to the ground, dumping my friends into the gooey puddle below. I try to hang on to the trunk, but soon I, too, am tumbling down.
I fall flat on my face, right into the red gunk. Some of it gets into my mouth.
“Amazing!” I gasp.
I sit up, scarcely able to believe what I’ve tasted. In a day of amazing surprises, this is the most amazing of all.
“It’s raspberry jam!” Tommy cries.
I scoop up a handful of the warm red ooze. It smells wonderfully fruity – it certainly is fresh, too. Gazillions of raspberry seeds, like beady little ant-ish eyes, stare back at me.
“Too bad we don’t have any more bread,” Tommy says. “I’m starved.”
Melissa is the first one back on her feet. She brushes uselessly at the jam smeared on her clothes and hair.
“That’s all well and good,” she says, “but I really don’t care at all for raspberry. Why couldn’t they make strawberry jam?”
“Or cherry,” Quentin says.
“Or blueberry,” Davis says.
“Davis,” Melissa says in a superior tone, “blueberry jam from red ants? Such things just do not happen.”
The rest of us struggle up.
“I gues
s that’s the end of our unpleasant little friends,” Quentin says.
“One might say so,” Melissa comments, real casual, as if everything has gone according to her plan.
“At least we learned a few things,” I say. “We know why the park was closed, and we know that yo-yo’s are cool in more ways than one.”
“Yes!” the boys agree.
“We also learned that it’s definitely smarter to bring Davis along on a picnic,” I say.
“That’s right.” Melissa puts her arm around Davis’ shoulders. “I just might keep you, little brother.”
I don’t think anybody would consider Davis to be “little,” and I know that Melissa is older then him by only a few minutes. Still, she is acting like the very best of big sisters.
Will wonders never cease?
“We may as well rest a while,” Quentin says. “I don’t think we need to worry about any more ant attacks.”
“Yeah,” Melissa says. “Why should a little thing like this spoil our day? Let’s take another swim and get cleaned up.”
Quentin pulls out the pack of gum he bought at the concession area.
“Anybody want a stick?”
But then a low rustling noise comes from the underbrush nearby. We all start running and don’t stop until we get home.
Epilog: The Time Before Color TV
In many ways, the time before color TV was much like our own. There were cars, airplanes and such, but they were very different from the ones today.
Cars were big, lumbering things – some with bizarre fins sticking out the back, like spears. If you accidentally bumped into someone, even very slowly, you could stab them right through. There were no sleek jet airplanes, just roaring, pounding propeller driven airliners. Riding in one could be even worse than hearing it from the ground, a real jarring experience.
Cell phones were unheard of, and forget personal computers, video games and all that electronic stuff. Computers were gigantic machines that only national governments could afford. Governments used these huge computers to collect more taxes or to design better bombs for blowing up more of the world should an atomic war break out.
TV was primitive, and the ads were almost as dumb as the ones running today.
First, you’d click on the dial – there being no remote control, yet. Then you’d wait a long time for all the vacuum tubes to warm up, certain that you were missing the best part of your favorite show. Finally, a small black and white picture would appear. You’d have to sit up close to see it, and your mom would yell at you to move farther back so as not to hurt your eyes.
A lot of movies were still made in black and white, too, especially science fiction movies. Many of them were about ordinary creatures that became gigantic due to nuclear fallout from the atomic bomb tests taking place around the world. There were movies about giant spiders, giant grasshoppers, giant people.
Is this what caused the raspberry jam ants?
As Amanda would say, “Who knows?”
THE END