Related previous posts: Bees Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Bees, Pt 7

For nearly an hour, Honey watched as Belle moved about the garden, scooping up injured insects and depositing them in the jar. Finally, Belle stood, stretched, and turned towards the house.

So deceiving! thought Honey. I can’t believe she’s leaving! Sure enough, Belle yawned and began to pick her way through the garden back towards the patio door.

“Come back, can’t you see?” Honey tried to rouse herself. “Right here, it is me!” The pain in her abdomen nearly caused her to black out again, but her thorax lifted and, for the briefest moment, Honey’s wings buzzed.

Halfway across the garden, Belle froze. Her head swung and she stared straight at Honey. With all her strength, Honey heaved her thorax and buzzed again. Like a homing hawk, Belle retraced her steps. Honey flapped her healthy wing again in weak sporadic flutters. Stopping occasionally to cock her head, Belle picked a path towards Honey’s location.

At last, the shadow of Belle’s childish countenance caressed Honey’s fallen figure. Honey fluttered one last time and grew still. Kneeling beside her, Belle set the jar beside Honey and unscrewed the slid.

“Don’t worry,” said Belle. “I’ve got you.”

With the fine feminine fingers of a delicate child, Belle reached down and pinched Honey’s good wing in a firm but gentle grip. Then with infinite slowness, she lifted Honey and set her on the lip of the mason jar. Then Belle tilted the jar and let go.

Terror gripped Honey as she slid down the invisible side of the glass jar. But the descent was quick and painless, over almost before it began. Honey landed at the bottom in a pile with the dozens of other bees that occupied the jar.

“What is this place?” asked Honey, exploring the glass wall. “Quite the strange space.”

“Does it matter?” asked a nearby drone with a broken wing.

“Of course it matters! Why go to all this fuss, unless Belle is trying to help us.”

“Right,” said the drone. “Just like the humans that destroyed our hive and drove the other colony to invade.”

“Belle isn’t like that. She’s come to our aid.”

The drone made no reply, instead rolling onto his side with a shiver. Through the glass, the foreign queen’s call rang out, reverberating in the close confines of the container. But there was nowhere to go and no harm to happen, and so Honey let it wash over her and fade away.

Gradually, the jar lapsed into silence. Honey settled down alongside the other injured insects. In time, the jar rose and began to sway. Honey dragged herself over to the glass wall as Belle stood and looked about.

“What is she doing?” Honey asked the room at large. All that greeted her was the labored breath and broken buzz of the injured. Honey watched as Belle scanned the ground then set her eyes on the house.

As they headed for the patio door, the drone whispered, “Looks like we’re the last ones.”

Entering the house, Belle moved through the living room and into the dining. Passing through the kitchen, she set the jar on the countertop, then departed, once again leaving the bees alone in silence.

Time crept over Honey slowly, marked only by the length of the shadows. The room with the jar grew dark as the sun faded. Devoid of light, the air filled with the labored breath and broken buzz of the injured. Used to the warm, vibrant thrum of the hive, the stilted noises in the dark grated on Honey’s nerves.

Better than the cold dark silence of the dead, she reassured herself as the hours ticked by. Despite hope, Belle didn’t reappear to comfort Honey or the other bees. When true night set in, she settled down among her injured companions. No one spoke, not even the dejected and doubtful drone.

***