Related previous posts: Bees Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4
Bees, Pt 5
For three days, Honey huddled in the hive, venturing out only when vital. Thankfully, her queen was merciful, sending her on only brief missions close to the colony, so she could collect and harvest within short distance of the house. Each time the foreign queen sent out a burst, Honey felt it only as a distant wail, a fleeing echo that left little to no impression. Still, she was careful not to venture too far, least the feverish fervor forestall her flight.
On the fourth day, the humans stirred. Emerging from their house onto the patio, Belle and her mother stepped gingerly across the deck. Observing the massacre with dark eyes and deep grimaces, they tip toed among the tiny bodies littering the yard.
The carnage had climbed since the foreign queen’s campaign. Hundreds of Honey’s waylaid brethren lay in the water or in the bushes. Many of the dead piled atop one another on the shore of the jacuzzi, while the private traumas of those still struggling played out inches away.
Honey thought perhaps Belle’s mother would do something then, bring some machine or device to solve the problems. Instead, she made her way to the corner of the roof and stared at the eave guarding the entrance to the hive.
“No!” shouted Honey. “My colony is not the problem! They are!” With her antennae, Honey gestured across to the patio to the canyon. “Make them leave!”
If the human understood her, she did not show it. She pointed and gestured. Belle nodded and sighed. The mother pointed towards the dwelling. With a forlorn frown, Belle slipped back through the garden and returned to the house.
“Wait! Come back,” Honey called to her. “You have to help us!” Belle made no reply as she shut the sliding glass door. Her mother glanced at the aperture again then sighed as if in surrender.
***
Change came early the next day. The sun had barely broken its nocturnal border before the noise announced new arrivals.
Please, please let it be Belle, thought Honey, watching from the shadow of the slanted structure. Instead, two men wearing bulky protective gear emerged. One of them carried a huge hose. The other carried a squat machine with a long cable.
Recognizing their outfits from the workers who chopped down the oak tree, Honey cried out, “They’re here to destroy our home!”
In a blink, the backyard buzzed with bodies bent on business. As the humans set up their equipment, a phalanx of bees took up stations below the eave, directly in front of the entrance to the colony. Seemingly oblivious to the threat, the human advanced across the deck, through the garden, and over to the hive.
“Stay back!” shouted Honey. “We don’t want to hurt you!”
“Stay back!” echoed the other worker bees. “Go away!”
If the humans understood or cared, they gave no sign. Instead, the one with the metal machine set it down and plugged it in. A clamorous cacophony filled the air, attended by a raucous rattle as the device roared to life. Lifting the long lithe hose, the other human approached the hive.
“They’ve come to destroy us,” called the drones. “Fly away!”
From across the garden, the foreign queen serenaded them. “Come to me,” said her message. “Come and combine your colony with my collective.”
“Stand your ground. Don’t turn around!” countered Honey’s queen. “Protect your hive. We can still survive.”
“Flee for your lives! Run away!” came the shouts from drones who had witnessed the previous hive’s destruction.
Already confused by the commotion, bees dispersed in different directions. Some flew towards the humans or into the garden. Others made for the canyon, the other queen, and the pulsating promise of supposed safety.
“Come back!” yelled Honey, watching her colleagues flee as the man with the hose drew increasingly closer.
“We must protect our home,” she said. But this sedate sentiment proved a proverbial private proclamation as the collective consciousness collapsed and the colony succumbed to catastrophe. While other bees flew away, Honey crawled through the crevice, into the confines of the enclosure. Over time, the hive had grown, extending from the narrow eave, past several support struts, into the side of the structure, with the queen tucked away in the secret recesses. Honey rushed to the rear, past horde of cohorts heading in a dangerous direction.
The human with the hose lifted the nozzle and placed it against the hole. A whooshing wind whipped through the crevice. Quickly, Honey took up residence behind a thick beam that blocked the interior from the entrance, acting as a bracing bulwark against the voracious vacuum.
Drones caught in the open were flung by the force of the wind. Honey could neither watch nor help as scores of her brethren were sucked from her side by the powerful pull. She could only hide behind her protective perch and pray as more and more of her friends were withdrawn against their will.
Honey wanted to move, to fight, to fly … anything other than hide. But some insect instinct held her in place. Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes became what felt like hours. The pull persisted but produced no prizes.
The vacuum shut off. Silence settled upon Honey and her space within the supposed sanctuary. Moments later, the noise resumed, but no wind terrorized the tunnel. Honey cautiously crept to the entrance and eyed the humans sucking up battered bees off the ground. Friends and foes, dead and dying, they all disappeared into the horrible hose.
The machine shut off for the second time. The white-garbed humans managed their machine, coiled the cord, and headed for the house.
True silence settled. Not even the foreign queen’s proclamations punctured the peace. With trembling forelimbs, Honey took to the sky to survey her surroundings. No longer were her cohorts strewn across the surfaces or the shores. Indeed, all the insects on the pavers and in the pool had permanently perished. Pivoting in position, Honey crashed into the cavity. Rushing to the recesses, she discovered the deepest distance deserted.
“No, the queen! They took the queen!” cried Honey. She must have been drawn out by the vacuum and captured by that crazy contraption.
Honey’s wings wilted. Without her queen, without her leader, she had no hope, no purpose. With listless flutters, Honey drifted through the cold, dark interior of the hive. A few other survivors lay tucked away in remote cracks and crevices, but all of them seemed too despondent, too devastated to talk to her.
My friends…
My queen…
Honey moved on, drifting desolately towards the doorway. When she reached it, she paused. Without the will to launch herself, she lamely limped to the ledge.
My hive…
My purpose…
Tipping her torso, she folded her forelimbs and plunged into freefall. For almost a full second, she plummeted towards the concrete.
It would be so easy…
Honey fluttered her wings and pulled up. Clear of the concrete, her she skimmed the soil. With a severe summersault, she slammed to a stop beside the sauna. Her right antenna ached from the impact. Her left leg felt bent, basically broken.
I don’t know if I can fly, thought Honey. I should just stay here and die.
A little voice inside spoke up. You could go to the other queen, become a member of that other hive.
Another voice answered. I’d rather die a thousand times!
By now, the sun had set on the canyon. Honey lay on the ground unmoving as light leeched from the land. Color followed, fading from dusk to gray to deepest dark. Honey glanced at the entrance to the hive. Lit only by a pale porch light, it taunted her with counterfeit calm.
There is no help here, she told herself. Only the empty husk of hope. She lay her head down and closed her eyes as night crept over her.
***