Unearthed

by Gina Ranalli

  Rebecca thought about this for a moment, then said, “But...since when do bees...” She trailed off, grateful for the dark because it prevented Martin from seeing her blush. “Do what they did to Joyce?” she finished.

  “They ate her,” Martin said, matter-of-factly. “That’s what they did to her. Goddamn me having this rifle locked up in the attic. Might have been able to save her if I wasn’t so damn worried the grandkids might find it in the closet sometime when I was watching a game or some shit. Goddamn me all to hell.”

  Straightening her back, she said, “I always thought bees just...pollinated flowers and mostly minded their own business. I didn’t think they ate...”

  “Meat?” he asked. “You ever had a picnic in the park? Damn yellow jackets seem like they’ll eat just about anything, if you let them. Same thing here, I suppose. I reckon we’re the flowers now. What else they gonna pollinate? And as far as minding their own business. Well, I don’t know what to say about that one. That bastard that came after my wife...he was an aggressive son-of-a-bitch.” He seemed to ponder that for a moment before continuing. “’Course Joyce wasn’t just standing there either. Treated the damn thing like she would any other flying pest, waving her arms around trying to swat it. Screamin’ like the dickens. Probably aggravated it. And there I was, a useless old bum, running for the house and telling her to stay still and quiet.” He shook his head sadly. “Fat lotta good that did. By the time I got back with the rifle, she was on the ground and she wasn’t moving. That bastard was on top of her and I could...” His voice hitched and it took a few seconds for him to go on. “I could see its damn jaws working on her...face. It was already eating her face, Rebecca!”

  The man burst into tears and Rebecca said nothing. She didn’t know how to console someone who had gone through such a horrific ordeal or even if such a person could be consoled. Certainly not so soon after the fact anyway.

  Martin produced a handkerchief from a shirt pocket and blew his nose loudly.

  When she thought the worst of his crying might have passed, Rebecca asked, “So, you shot it?”

  He cleared his throat. “Tried to. Missed the damn thing by a mile I was shakin’ so bad. Guess the round was close enough for the bastard to feel its breeze though, ‘cause it took off after that.” He blew his nose again. “But, they keep coming back every twenty minutes or so. Taking small bites outta my wife. Seems they like the taste of her. The soft, juicy bits.”

  Rebecca closed her eyes and mentally begged Martin to stop with his narrative. Her stomach churned and if he said much more, she would surely gag and she knew for certain where that would lead.

  “I didn’t bother to take another shot,” Martin went on. “What would be the point? She’s dead and at this rate, there won’t be much to bury anyway. But I’m still keeping an eye out, just in case.”

  From where he’d curled up on the floor, Lou whined softly, almost as if he’d fallen asleep and was having a nightmare. Rebecca supposed it was possible. She was bone-tired and the dog probably was as well.

  “Been going out to the Rover to listen to the radio,” Martin said. “Couldn’t hear much but I heard enough. I did that a few times, until I didn’t want to hear any more.”

  Rebecca asked what he had heard, and when he was done telling her, she knew how he felt. She didn’t want to hear any more either.

  A sinkhole just slightly smaller than the Grand Canyon had opened up, stretching from just north of Seattle, all the way down to Portland, Oregon. Millions were dead.

  And apparently the canyon was growing, opening wider, stretching longer. In addition, other, smaller sinkholes were forming and soon, it was guessed, the small ones would connect with the new canyon until the majority of the northwest seaside of the United States would be swallowed whole.

  “You need to start traveling east, Rebecca,” Martin told her. “Go east as fast as you can and don’t look back.”

  The small crack of light sneaking in from between the curtains was already starting to wane. It got dark early this time of year.

  “Well, what are we waiting for then?” Rebecca stood up. “Let’s go.”

  Lou, ever obedient, jumped to his feet, ready for the next adventure. Martin, however, remained seated.

  “Oh, hell, no,” he said. “I’m too old to be running from monsters digging their way up outta Hell. I’m just gonna sit here and wait.”

  “Wait for what?”

  “For another one of those bastards to come and try to take another bite outta my wife!” He sounded angry now and shook his head. “I’ve been sitting here, watching ‘em. Studyin’ them, I guess you could say. I just want to take out one. Just one and I’ll be happy. As God as my witness, I won’t miss a second time.”

  Rebecca tried arguing with him, but it was no use. She couldn’t force the man to come with her, though she sorely wanted him to. She was terrified of going anywhere alone and voiced this fear to him, to no avail.

  “Take whatever you can carry from my refrigerator. And take my Rover,” he said. “It’s a good truck and it’ll take you wherever you need to go.” He gave the dog an absentminded pat on the head. “As long as there are roads, anyway.”

  Not wanting to cry, Rebecca thanked him and got out of there fast. She didn’t stop in the kitchen, though she thought she probably should. But she didn’t want to take anything Martin might need himself.

  When she was just about to the front door, he called down to her one last time. “Godspeed, Rebecca! May the good Lord bless us all.”

  She was about to respond when the crack of the rifle shattered the otherwise quiet house. Flinching, she looked out the doorway to the lawn, expecting to see one of the huge digger bees, dead or alive, but there was nothing. Either Martin had missed again...or he hadn’t.

  CHAPTER 6

  As odd as it seemed, more than anything, Joe wanted a beer. It was strange, he thought, the things you think of when you don’t expect to live through the night.

  They’d continued to listen to the radio as afternoon bled into evening and more of the creatures came and went. It seemed there must have been thousands of them now and Joe was afraid that the time to escape the diner had long since dissipated.

  After a while, he had decided to take stock of their supplies, feeling somewhat lucky to have been at work at the time the shit hit the fan. By his estimation, they would probably be okay food-wise for a couple of weeks, if it came to that.

  That was, if the bee creatures didn’t bust their way inside first.

  Stacy had remained stoic as the drone of the monsters grew more steady, but John was becoming increasingly hysterical with every passing hour. His panic became ever more exacerbated when they began hearing choppers flying overhead. Too terrified to go outside, he began screaming for help through the back door, which he dared not open more than a crack.

  “They’re not gonna hear you!” Joe yelled at the other man, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Even if you were on the goddamn roof they wouldn’t hear you!”

  John stopped his screaming to look at Joe. “Yes! he said. “We need to get to the roof! Even if they can’t hear us, they’ll at least see us!”

  “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “You have the shotgun! You’ll be safe. Just shoot those bastards if they get too close!”

  Joe bit back his anger. “You think I should be the one to risk my ass, huh?”

  “Well...why not? It’s your diner. It’s your fucking gun. You act like you’re so fucking macho, why don’t you prove it?”

  “It’s better if we just stay put for now,” Joe said, ignoring the taunts. “At least until we haven’t seen or heard any of those things for a while.”

  “It’s getting worse not better!” John screamed, spittle flying through the darkness to shower Joe’s face. “We have to do something now!”

  “You’re free to do what you want, man,” Joe said. He tossed his hands in the air and turned his back on John, shaking his head.

  A dis
tant rumble shook the diner and was followed by an explosion. Both were far enough away to not pose any immediate danger to the diner but the sounds were unnerving nonetheless. It told them all that the earth had swallowed more evidence of mankind and most probably took lives down with it.

  Behind Joe, John began to cry again.

  Fresh out of sympathy, Joe said “Don’t open that door unless I’m here.” Without turning, he walked out of the storage room and back into the kitchen which was now aglow with weak candlelight.

  At the counter, Stacy sat toying with an unlit cigarette. Her face was drawn; she looked as though she’d aged at least a decade in a matter of hours. Joe guessed he probably looked the same.

  He nodded at the cigarette. “You gonna smoke that?”

  Stacy signed. “I never wanted this baby,” she said softly, without looking up at him. “But I don’t believe in abortion either, so I figured I was just fucked. Thought I might put it up for adoption, you know?”

  Joe shifted his weight uncomfortably and said nothing.

  “But now,” she continued, “I’m thinking maybe I do want it after all. I’m thinking about what a selfish bitch I’ve been, smoking these cancer sticks. I even kept right on smoking a little weed now and then. Drinking. I didn’t really give a fuck. I was pissed off.” Her voice hitched and Joe reached across the counter to clasp her left hand.

  “So stupid,” she said. “I’ve been so fucking stupid.” She sniffed loudly, then straightened her back. “I turned the radio off. Figured I’d save the batteries since there’s been nothing but static for about an hour now.”

  “Good thinking,” Joe said, because he didn’t know what else to say.

  “We should have left earlier,” she said. “While it was still daylight. I have a feeling this...” She finally brought her gaze up to look him in the eye. “This is probably gonna be our last night. I’m really starting to think we’re not gonna get out of this.”

  Joe frowned. “Yes, we are. Don’t think like that. Yeah, I guess we probably should have left when everything started going to hell but how were we to know things would...” He trailed off, remembering John’s words. It’s getting worse not better. After letting go of Stacy’s hand, he said, “You should get some rest. We’ll find some stuff to make you up a little bed on the floor away from the doors and windows. How’s that sound?”

  She snatched a paper napkin from the nearest dispenser and blew her nose. When she was finished, she said, “I think I’d rather be awake.”

  He nodded. He couldn’t blame her. As exhausted as he was, he didn’t think he’d have been able to sleep. Maybe later, but not now.

  “What are we gonna do, Joe?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But we need a plan. I think we’ve been lucky so far but waiting around for a rescue that may never come is probably not the way we should play it for much longer.”

  Stacy studied her unlit cigarette thoughtfully for a moment before turning her attention to the ceiling. “Do you hear that?”

  Joe listened. All he could hear was John weeping in the back room. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Oh.” He turned away, intending to go check on John again.

  “No,” she said. “I mean, literally, nothing. I don’t hear that buzzing sound anymore.”

  Cocking his head, Joe discovered that Stacy was right. For the first time in hours, the constant drone of the insects travelling back and forth outside had stopped. “Maybe they all flew away?” he suggested.

  “Or maybe they went to sleep.”

  Joe chuckled half-heartedly.

  “I’m serious,” Stacy said. “How often do you see bees at night? They really do sleep.”

  He had to admit she had a point. “So...we might be able to get out of here.”

  Stacy nodded. “Maybe. We should at least take a look around.”

  They crossed the diner to the front windows and peered out, though it was hard to see anything at all beyond their own cars.

  “It’s too dark,” Stacy said. “But as far as I can tell, nothing’s moving.”

  “We should check out back, too.”

  It seemed silly, but at least it gave them a purpose for the moment.

  He retrieved the shotgun from where he’d put it at the far end of the counter and together they went back into the storage room, Stacy wielding the flashlight.

  John was slumped on the floor, his back against the outside door, his knees drawn up to his chest with his arms wrapped around his legs and his head down.

  “Gotta move, buddy,” Joe told him. “We need to take another look out back.”

  Without bothering to lift his head, John asked, “What for?”

  “We think those things might be gone,” Stacy told him. She sounded cautiously hopeful and Joe was glad for that, at least. “If they are, maybe we can get out of here.”

  “And go where?” Despite his voice being muffled, it was clear that John was still pissed. Joe wondered if he’d always been pissed and this was just the latest drama in the younger man’s life.

  “Just get up,” Joe told him.

  John raised his head and squinted into the glare of Stacy’s flashlight. “My wife is dead. What the fuck do I care what happens now?”

  Joe was about to explode but Stacy spoke first.

  “You don’t know that,” she said. “And even if she is, you aren’t.”

  “I may as well be.”

  Slowly, Joe said, “Move your ass or I’ll move it for you.”

  Face darkening, John snapped, “Fuck you! This is the stupidest fucking thing—”

  Joe leveled the shotgun at him. “Now!”

  John rose to his feet quickly, though not out of fear, but out of anger. “Oh, you’re gonna shoot me?” he shouted. “Go for it! You’ll be doing me a fucking favor!”

  Despite not looking at her, Joe could sense Stacy’s eyes on him and her tension. He lowered the weapon and forced himself to speak calmly. “Thank you.”

  “Motherfucker!” John spat as Joe brushed by him to open the door. “Fucking point a gun at me!”

  Disregarding the younger man, Joe said, “Stacy, come over here with that flashlight.”

  She did as asked, crouching down beside Joe who had opened the door wide enough to fit half his body through, leading with the weapon.

  The beam of light pierced the night and Stacy slowly swung it in all directions, taking care to shine it back towards the woods behind the diner.

  “I don’t see anything,” she whispered.

  “Me neither.”

  “I bet we could make it to one of the cars now,” she added.

  “Probably safer on foot. We don’t want to be driving and hit one of those sinkholes.”

  Behind them, John barked out a loud, phony laugh. “Oh, you don’t think so, Joe? You know a lot about it, don’t ya?”

  In unison, Joe and Stacy hissed “SHHH!”

  “Get the fuck out of the way!” John charged forward and grabbed a fistful of Stacy’s hair, yanking her backwards until her balance was lost and she went sprawling to the floor. The beam from the flashlight caused light and shadows to dance around the small storage room, producing a disorienting effect.

  “Hey!” Joe shouted, spinning towards John, the shotgun in one hand while the other curled into a fist and reared back, preparing to strike.

  John was quick however, and darted to one side, the blow glancing off his shoulder and not slowing him down in the slightest. He used his body weight to shove Joe backwards into a shelving unit. Joe managed to remain upright and not lose his grip on the shotgun but by the time he recovered, John was already out the door, racing through the back lot towards the street.

  “JOHN!” Stacy screeched, much too late, as she stumbled to her feet and caught the door before it could swing closed. “Come back!”

  John skidded to a stop and whirled around, tears streaming down his face. “All clear,” he shouted deliriously, throwing his arms into th
e air. “Not a fucking thing in—”

  A large, dark shape, barely visible in the night, came over the roof of the diner and whizzed through the air. The drone was unmistakable.

  Stacy screamed as the huge bee-thing crashed into John, knocking him back a good ten feet, the two of them—creature and man—rolling across the tarmac in a blur.

  “Shit!” Joe shouted, lunging out the door himself, shotgun raised as he ran towards John.

  “Joe! No!” Stacy bellowed.

  Stopping, Joe tried to take aim at the creature, but he was unable to get a clear shot. He was at least twenty feet away but even in the dark that was still plenty close enough to see the bee on top of John curl its rear end and the long, dripping stinger plunge into John’s abdomen.

  John shrieked loud enough to crack the night as Joe ran right up to the two of them and placed the muzzle of the shotgun against the bee’s body and pulled the trigger.

  The bee creature exploded, torn nearly in half, spraying both John and Joe with a foul smelling slime that was hot to the touch. Hot enough to burn, though Joe barely noticed this fact, shouting, “Yes!” at the dead creature.

  The victory was short-lived, as another dark shadow flew in from the direction of the street and as he spun to face it, piercing light blinded him and he raised his free arm to shield his eyes.

  At his feet, John continued to wail.

  CHAPTER 7

  Rebecca had been cruising slowly down 99th with the Land Rover’s headlights off when she saw the man get attacked by one of the digger bees.

  It was a minor miracle that she’d been able to see anything at all in the dark, and probably wouldn’t have seen the man at all, but she saw the bee first, perched on the roof of the Pinecone Cafe.