by Zubin Mathai
It had been an hour since the wasp attack and the group was near their end. The shade was doing little to protect them from the heat, and none of them had had any water that day. The air in the cranny with them had become heavy, and its scorching dryness was sucking the life from them all.
The worker had been constantly peeking out through the crack at the slightest noise, expecting to see the wasp zoom by or land for another assault. When the soldier suggested it was time to leave and press on, the worker tensed up. The scariness of this unfamiliar world now had a face, had a stinger, now had rage and hate.
“We could stay until sunset,” said the worker, trying vainly to convince her friends.
“No,” piped up the princess, much to everyone’s surprise, “this place is killing us. We have to go.”
The soldier smiled at the princess, smiled at her seriousness and, finally, a right decision, but the princess looked away. She backed into the corner and looked down, for the encounter with the wasp, the reality of being an ant in this world, had sucked some innocent joy from her youth.
The soldier went out to check for danger, and then he beckoned the rest to follow. The beetle had a time trying to get his fat body through the crack, and the worker was there to help with a friendly shove. When the group stood atop the largest rock and scanned around, all they saw was dry dustiness.
It was the worker who first saw something, mentioning trees, a whole cluster of them, perhaps a forest, further to the east. The rest couldn’t see what she saw, and the soldier wondered aloud if she were daydreaming again, or if the heat and lack of water was affecting her, but the worker was adamant.
A couple of brittle, dry leaves, as cracked and colorless as the ground itself, had been parked against the rocks from a long-gone wind. The worker jumped down and picked up one as if it were weightless. “We can use these for shade and camouflage,” she said, happy to have found something in her wheelhouse she could contribute.
For a few awkward seconds she tried to teach the others how to properly carry. The beetle put in a good effort, but with such a round body and tiny legs, there was no way he could get a grasp. The soldier was a little better, but couldn’t walk with something held. Finally, it was decided that the worker would carry both, balanced precariously, and angled so that everyone could fit under, and she smiled at being so useful.
They set out, with the soldier aiding the limping beetle, set out into the stifling heat which came curious. At every little vibration, the worker expected to hear the angry buzzing of the wasp, but she pushed those images out of her mind and stayed true and focused. She kept her antenna as still as possible, ensuring a straight walk, kept the two leaves raised above her perfectly, for the group was depending on her.
By the time they reached the edge of the forest it was evening, and the heat and light from the day was replaced by a silent coolness. They passed through the scrubland, relishing the little moisture trapped under each bush, and then made it to the towering trees. Dropping the leaves, the worker looked up at the red giants and marveled, feeling smaller than she had ever felt before.
“These trees have been here long before our times, before even the times of most of the animals here,” said the beetle. “The river which flows these parts is dry now, but when the odd rain comes, that river trickles, and these trees stay here hopeful for the rare drink.”
They traveled in silence, each insect lost in their thoughts of the day. They crawled over stones and stepped through exposed roots crying for moisture, and soon another problem faced them. To the extent the heat plagued them in the day, the coolness of the night was plaguing them now.
“This land is a land of extremes,” said the beetle. He looked to the worker, the timid and caring one who was still transfixed by the tree-giants. “You no doubt miss the warmth of a colony, and I miss my burrow and kin for the same reason.”
As they rounded the next tree, and the worker caressed in passing and wonder the smoothness of its bark, the group suddenly saw a glow far up ahead. Amber light spilled out, dancing on the way to meet them and sending shadows bouncing in all directions as it did. As they cautiously approached, they soon felt a warmth, and it was a godsend. They basked in the heat, let the glow light up their faces and smiles, and then moved even closer.
The worker was the first to make out the scene: a fire atop cut and broken wood, and gathered around, with their faces made shadowed and jagged by the excited amber, were three giant, two-legged animals; animals just like the one that had poisoned and destroyed the only home the worker had ever known.
Turning to the beetle, and then the soldier, the worker reached out for them with eyes wide and jaw agape. She wanted to run, wanted to tell her friends that here was danger, but was even more afraid to make any noise at all. The beetle looked to her, then to the humans sitting around the campfire, and in his own wise way, knew what was upsetting the worker.
“Do not worry, my new ant friend,” the beetle said. “True, these creatures have sharp eyesight, but theirs is not like ours. Motion is not so pronounced for them, and we are too tiny for them to notice in the darkness. We can sit here safely and keep warm.”
As orange and white flames danced up into the darkening night, the group settled in. They parked themselves near a little mound of dirt, about twenty feet from the fire, and stood as still and mesmerized as the trees all around.
When a spark exploded out of the fire and drifted up, the worker tried to follow it with her eyes, and then became distracted by the stars. She stared frozen in awe, as her one antenna relaxed and curled down to touch the side of her face. She wondered if those points above were the same, sparks exploded out of some fire too distant to see.
As the warmth came from the fire to wrap her in comfort, the ant smiled and looked over to the beetle. “This almost feels like home,” she said.
“Yes, my friend,” said the beetle. “I know you and your friends are lost and searching for a new colony, but I wish to tell you something.”
The beetle rubbed his broken leg for a bit, wincing at the pain, and then gathered his thoughts before continuing. “Perhaps it is because we beetles are more solitary, and ants need kin. But I find home in warmth when cold, in finding water on a hot day, or, most important for me, on adventures. I think you could too.”
Letting her friend’s words sink in, the worker thought for a moment. She remembered all the moments of happiness in her life, and they all seemed to involve her former sisters. Even when she was treated differently, teased mercilessly, and made to work from morning to night, she still felt at home. She could not picture that feeling coming from anywhere but a colony.
She and the beetle talked for more minutes, which to insects this tiny felt the timeline of hours. The beetle told her of the adventures he had, of the strange insects he met in the night, and the even stranger animals which always came chasing. When the worker had had her fill of the beetle stories, starlight, and warmth from the flames, she excused herself, for she saw the soldier sitting alone by herself.
“Why do you not sit with us closer to the fire?”
The soldier did not answer, she only rubbed her antennae together for warmth and stared ahead. The worker followed the line of her eye and could see that she was staring at the beetle and princess. The princess had nuzzled up against the beetle for warmth, listening to his fanciful stories with rapt attention. When the princess wanted to run forward to dance closer to the flames, the beetle used a good leg to stop her and draw her back.
“I’m sorry,” said the beetle, “my humor is dry, even more so by these flames, but if you, my dear princess, get too close up there your humor would instead be fully cooked.”
“What did I do?” whispered the soldier, and only the worker heard. The little one turned to her big friend, curious.
“The beetle has his wisdom. You have your strength to carry and your sight with two perfect eyes. You know that that wasp almost killed the princess, “ said the soldier, and after a pause, she kicked
at a grain of sand that was annoying her. “If that had happened, how could I live with myself? What would I be?”
The worker felt the sadness in her friend, and she saw her friend’s one good eye look down to the dust and sand, knowing she was not one to usually share her pain like this.
“Look at the stars, my friend,” said the worker, hoping that might help. “Do you not feel any comfort from them? Do they not chase away all your questions?”
The soldier looked up, and even wiped down her eye with one antenna, but then looked back down to the dirt. “I only see a canvas of black up there. My sight is not as perfect as yours.”
The worker wiggled her one antenna. “I am not perfect at all,” she said. “I am missing parts too,” and she smiled when she heard the soldier faintly chuckle. “I walk in circles if I don’t focus, and am scared out here at a feather falling.”
Looking back at the flames dancing against the darkness, and feeling the deep vibrations of the humans talking, the worker paused for the moment to fill her. She wondered if she was different than other insects, for she felt things. She felt happy and sad sometimes. She felt longing, and she knew no other of her sisters ever said they felt that same thing. And now, in looking at that fire and humans laughing, at those strange creatures so connected to each other, she longed for home like nothing else.
“My big friend,” said the worker to the soldier, “you are my longest and dearest friend in this world. I know your role takes over your mind and heart sometimes. I know you live to protect — and fight — when necessary. But we are in this together, seeking a new home, a place of comfort, a place where you can rest your role for a bit, and we will be in this together forever until we find that place.”
She reached out with one of her legs and held the tip of one the soldier’s. The soldier looked up to her friend and felt strange. Just like the flames were warming her body, her friend’s touch seemed to be warming her insides. It was a strange feeling to the soldier, one she usually only felt from duty, from her role fulfilled. For the briefest of moments, the soldier forgot her dishonor of the day, and even forgot the faint pain of the poison eating away her abdomen.
“Come, let us join our princess and beetle friend,” said the worker.
Just as the soldier and worker went to rejoin their friends and warm themselves closer to the fire, fate and circumstance changed the night.
Who knows what was different about that log, perhaps it was gathered from closer to where the river sometimes trickled, and so had moisture or moss trapped inside. But when a human threw it on the fire, it only took a few seconds before it began smoking and sparking.
Hisses broke the still air, and then explosions and showers of sparks. Even the humans seemed alarmed, for they all jumped up and tried kicking at the log or reaching for it with other pieces. But it was already too covered in flames, and the shower of sparks kept coming. Most fell harmlessly to the ground, but so many danced with the rising smoke, happy to be free. They flew up into the branches of nearby trees, trees which had not tasted moisture in months.
It was when the humans began throwing possessions into metal boxes that the insects knew something was really wrong. Now there were flames not only on the ground, in that contained space, but up in one tree, then another, and another. It didn’t need the beetle to yell out to run for the ants to know, for instinct was in them as much as wisdom in their round friend.
The beetle ran to the worker, and begged her to look around, to find the safest escape route. Branches began cracking and falling, covered in flames, and smashing to the ground in an explosion of sparks and vibrations. The worker scanned around, but was overcome with the confusion from around and panic from within.
The humans were screaming, the fire was spreading, tree trunks were now on fire as much as their branches. The soldier ran to the princess to grab her, for she was flapping her still-useless wings in a moment of franticness, thinking she could fly away to safety.
When the worker saw the humans run in one direction, she yelled out to her friends to go in the other. She helped the injured beetle, while the soldier had the princess on her back, and they escaped just as a flaming branch fell and flattened the dirt mound they had been sitting on.
More trees caught the fire, smoke and sparks filled the air, and the heat was unbearable, but still they ran. They ran between rocks and hills, through little depressions and around clumps of dirt and falling embers. But they were tiny things, and even with six legs, they were no match for the speed of destruction. Now the fire was all around, as trees so thirsty for water seemed to be just as thirsty for flames.
The air was orange, there was no more darkness or coolness, and the worker only ran and ran, aching for a home and safety more than ever. Her instincts took over, and luckily she ran in a straight line, for her friends were depending on her. She ran where she thought the edge of the forest was, but wasn’t sure. She could no longer see clearly, for everything was too bright, and the heat now seemed to be even in the ground, singeing every time her feet touched down.
“Over there!” yelled the beetle, and the worker saw what he was pointing at. There, beyond a little hill, was something flat and reflecting the flames all around. They run up the hill, then tumbled down the other side, and there before them was a saving grace from nature, a little spring-fed pond. As the heat and flames circled, the worker saw a leaf by the shore and yelled at everyone to jump on. When she felt the leaf attached, she ran to its edge and gnawed, furiously working to free the leaf.
With the help of the soldier, she began kicking, churning up the tiniest splashes behind, until the leaf began drifting forward. When they felt the heat from the left, they kicked to go right, and when they felt it from in front, they kicked to go back, until they were dead center in the pond, with death and destruction fully around.
“That is a squirrel!” yelled the beetle over the fury of the flames, as a grey shape ran past, but the ants were too distracted by their terrified huddle to care.
“That looks like a coyote!” said the beetle when the next shape, this one more brown, ran past. The worker would have marveled at all the new animals she was getting to see, if it were not for the fear chewing away. This is what not having a home feels like, she thought, and she did not like it at all.
“Oh my,” said the beetle, “these ones I think we all know.”
From behind nearby stones, lizards were emerging, and indeed, all the ants did know of lizards. These ones were brown, with slithering bodies and eyes so black they betrayed nothing. The came to the waters edge, and while the flames were chasing animals from every last corner of this forest, these lizards, with their lizard brains, were only focused on the meal at the center of their pond.
With the air excited by the churning heat, the leaf they were on began to float, and one of the lizards, the one getting closer and bigger, seemed to smile. The worker and soldier began their furious kicking, but still they were not changing direction. They could see the lizard open its mouth, revealing a black fate inside, and now even the beetle was kicking with his good legs. The princess was flapping furiously, doing the only thing she could to help.
A swirl of hot wind came to save them, just as the lizard snapped down a inch from their heads, but the wind was not perfectly merciful, for it was pushing them towards another lizard. For minutes this game continued, with the lizards uncaring of the scorching heat all around, and the winds toying with the group’s lives, bringing them closer to one set of teeth and then another. The princess was crying and the wise old beetle had no words to encourage. The worker wanted to go home, even to that poison-filled scene of death by the flat-stones, anywhere but here.
The winds weren’t done, and now they were bringing the flames closer too. One lizard snapped out of its instinct for food, for it could feel the singeing heat on its scales, and it turned and ran to safety. But the remaining lizards stood firm, spacing themselves out around the pond and waiting for the leaf and dinner to co
me to them.
The next time the princess began flapping her useless wings in panic, the soldier had had enough. “You cannot fly!” he shouted, grabbing her and flinging her to one corner. She collapsed to the edge, and the worker was the only one to see, that her wings had created a shiny little amber bubble on the water.
“Do that again!” the worker yelled, even as they were drifting too close to one gaping mouth, and as the soldier was begging for backup to steer the leaf away.
The princess flapped her tiny wings, and more bubbles formed on the surface. The worker grabbed the beetle and soldier and spun them around. “We go under!” she yelled.
They all knew exactly what she meant, and also knew there was no other choice. The princess churned her wings, half in the water and half out, forming more and more bubbles, with a variety of sizes to choose from. Just as the leaf touched the tip of the shore, and as a giant lizard was baring down on them, each of the bugs gathered as many bubbled around their bodies as they could, then dove under the surface.
Amber light, heat and destruction, was replaced by cold darkness as the bugs pushed down into the stagnant pond. Murkiness brought a different kind of terror here, for they knew not what lived down here. Were there frogs or fish down here? Debris brushed against the workers body and she panicked, wanting to resurface, but the soldier held her back.
They all looked up and could see an arc of yellow and red defining the sky, and they could see the remaining lizards silhouetted and looking down, just waiting for their meal to come bobbing up. Seconds passed, then minutes, and the insects knew the air in their bubbles couldn’t last forever.
Flames grew brighter, and the ground even at the bottom of this pond vibrated as giant trees came crashing down. The light above went from amber to yellow, to orange and then white, as the heat grew so intense that even the water began to warm. Finally, minutes later, that same light dimmed, going from bright to a glow, and then back to darkness.
Cautiously the group surfaced, making sure to come up in exactly the center of the pond. But it did not matter, for there were no more lizards at water’s edge. There were two charred lumps, which could have been lizards. In their wake was only lingering heat and glows, and a blackened ground as far as the group could see.
They swam to the edge and the ground was still too hot to the touch, and so they jumped back. They found their leaf and climbed aboard to kick towards pond-center, knowing they would have to wait a while. They huddled in silence, as the glow moved to their horizon, heading on to consume the rest of the forest. Older trees kept them company, the bigger ones, old and wise enough to have stayed standing through countless other of these fires, and the group nestled down under the stars to wait for normalcy to return.
The sun hinted at its presence with a glow, and the group turned to face it. They had huddled through the remainder of the night for warmth, mostly in silence, as the crackling faded around them. Excitement sometimes ran through, as the odd escaping animal sped by the pond. In the rising light, the insects spun to survey the scene. The small, dry trees were all burnt to a crisp, the bushes along the ground were no more, and if they had noses they would have smelled the acridness.
The soldier was the first to speak, and she kept it simple, “If East is our destination, let us continue.”
She leant over and began kicking to bring the leaf to shore. She stepped off and helped the princess and beetle, while the worker hopped off on her own. At the tip of the lip of dirt surrounding the pond, they stopped to plan their route, and the worker pointed at the way which was the least blackened, and then they set off.
To lighten the mood as they marched, the beetle began humming. It was a flutter of his wings and a rubbing of two of his good legs, and it excited the air around him into a high pitch. The ants, of course, heard nothing, but they felt the vibrations through the ground and their legs. Soon the humming locked their steps, and they looked like a real, tiny army, and they all began giggling at the effect.
They soon passed the edge of the forest, the place where the fire must have stopped, for the ground changed back from black-crusted to the familiar sandy brown. The worker was the only one who turned back to look at the trees, both the burnt and untouched ones, and had this odd need to apologize to them. One of the trees, and old, red and wrinkled giant, rumbled out to the ant a thank you by shaking one of its branches. It added, not to worry, my tiny friend, for this is our life, and we look at things differently. The other side of fire is a blessing, for it kills the few who are weak and gives young ones a chance at the sun.
In between the vibrations of that giant’s branch, tweaking out its message for just the worker, she thought she saw another pink petal on the wind. It was the only shout of color from that direction, and stood out stronger than just a whisper against all the burnt and black. The petal flew over the group’s head, but when the worker told everyone to look up, the petal was already gone.
Mountains rose before them to pierce the sky. The group had marched for hours, and were happy that the sun was at just the right height, here to warm but not yet scorch. Now they stood facing this rocky, mammoth obstacle, unsure how to proceed. This would be formidable, an outcrop of huge boulders even to giant animals like humans. Going around would take days, and going over, with possibly no chance for shelter or moisture, would be foolish.
“I can fly up and over and check the way!” the princess squealed, and began flapping her tiny wings. She only got an inch off the ground; it was progress but still not really a flight, and she fell to the ground winded and dejected. She gave another flap of her wings to swirl some dust to help her moping.
“My little royal ant,” said the beetle, “I can fly, like you will be able to soon, but that freedom is not the same as wisdom.”
The beetle took one of the princess’ legs and limped her over to a tiny crack in the mountain. To any other animal it would not even have been visible, but insects had the advantage of noticing the small.
“If you had looked around before looking over, I’m sure you would have seen this and had this idea before me,” said the beetle as he got the princess to peer into the crack. Sunlight was bouncing off red rock walls somewhere beyond, bringing with it an enticing glow. The crack was barely big enough for the group, but the princess could see they would be able to make it. She stood there staring and smiling, imagining the journey, while the beetle smiled at her, imagining her inevitable future, where she was a leader, wise and just.
The princess was about to run, but the soldier jumped forward to grab her. “Wait, my princess,” the soldier said. “I will take the lead.”
Today was a day of learning for the princess, and instead of preferring to sulk over all her silly decisions, she stared in awe at the soldier stepping up to its role. The older ant mapped out a plan, that she would be first, the princess next, with the injured beetle behind her, and the worker bringing up the rear. The soldier barked out commands and warning, teaching how to tap out warnings for different types of danger, and how to always keep scanning and knowing the surroundings.
The soldier stepped into the crack and looked around, satisfied that this canyon (to insects) was the best shortcut to the other side. She held up her leg for the princess to take, and the princess accepted and stepped on through.
Being a bit rounder and larger, the beetle needed a few moments to fit through the opening. He tried the normal way, and when that didn’t work, the worker pushed him up onto his head, so that he might fit in vertically.
“I do have a bit of a dry humor,” started the beetle, “so I might say that doing a headstand was not on my list of goals for-”
His sentence was cut short by a fierce buzz cracking the air like a whip. The beetle and worker looked around frantically for the source, and could see nothing. The whine got louder, and they all knew what it was, for it was eerily familiar.
“Let me back through!” yelled the soldier, pushing on the beetle, but the beetle was wedged in tightl
y.
The worker huddled down in the dirt, up against the mountain face, her eyes darting around, and her antenna too, but all she saw was the sun and sky. The buzz got louder, changed to a higher pitch, like the whine of a bomb falling from the sky.
From the wasp’s point of view, the sky was its domain. It had recovered from its bruises and soreness imparted by the beetle, and a fractured part of its brain told it to catch up to the ants no matter the cost. Now it had them in its sights — for that black beetle was so easy to spot against the dusty browns. The fat one was even wedged into a crack, his giant rump a perfect target for the wasp’s stinger. It angled its attack, aiming strait for the beetle, but at the last moment, barely a few inches above the group, its wing slapped into a pebble.
From the group’s position, all they heard was the whining increase in intensity and then replaced by a thud. Grains of sand and tiny pebbles began tumbling down into the crack, and dust was kicked up to cloud the air. When the dust settled, the situation was fully different; the crack opening was blocked, with the beetle covered with dust and debris, and the soldier and princess still on the other side.
Suddenly, the buzzing started again, and the beetle strained to look up, but could see nothing. The worker jumped back from her hiding spot to look up the mountain, and there, with two legs stuck between two pebbles, was the wasp beating its wings in an enraged flurry. Its wings were exciting the sand and dust around, and the pebbles under its legs were slowly sinking. It would only be a matter of time before it was free.
With all her worker strength, and with terror birthing courage, the worker ran forward and yanked on the beetle’s body. With a pop he was free, and tumbled on top of the worker beside the crack. They could now see the way was fully blocked and stuffed with sand, and so they spun around to look for any other option.
“Over there!” shouted the worker, pointing to a little shadowy space in the ground. As they began running, the wasp managed to get one leg free, and its rage-fueled flapping increased in pitch. It could see the fat beetle and small ant heading one way, and to its left, could see the canyon opening covered in debris. The wasp was not sure if the soldier and princess were crushed and dead.
Reaching the target, the shadowy spot, the worker and beetle stood at its edge and peered down. They could see it was a hole stretching deep underground, and they both hesitated, for coming up from it was nothing inviting or certain.
“We can’t leave our friends!” shouted the worker as she stared towards the collapsed canyon.
It was the wasp who helped them decide, for it broke free its last leg and came zipping towards them. The beetle grabbed the worker and threw her into the hole, and then dove in right after. He kicked up his back legs, including the one broken one, churning through the pain, shoving dirt behind him until the opening was half closed, letting in only the tiniest slivers of light.
The wasp stopped and hovered in an angry circle, studying the hole and coming up with plans. It knew it could land and start digging, but also knew that its advantage was flight, was using its stinger from a diving attack. It looked back towards the collapsed crack in the boulder-mountain and thought of the soldier. There were two ants in that direction, and only on here in this hole, so the wasp let go its rage against the beetle and took off to fly east.
When their eyes adjusted to the darkness, with the tiny shaft of light behind them helping out, the beetle and worker could make out the way ahead. They were in a long tunnel, stretching off as far as they could see. The worker’s mind immediately began running to fear. What made this tunnel? What animal is down here ready to eat them? Is the wasp about to smash through the hole behind and thrust its stinger deep into them?
But the biggest feeling in her mind, like a bubble on a boiling surface readying to pop, was loneliness, accented by the darkness of this tunnel. This was the first time, she realized, she had absolutely no ants around her, not even her oldest friend.
The beetle broke her chain of thoughts by whispering, and his voice brought a little calmness with it. “This tunnel appears to be heading east. That is a godsend.”
nine
Alone