Related previous posts: Bees Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

Bees, Pt 9 (Finale)

Similar to her time in the pantry, Honey lost track of time in the jar where it lay in the back of the van. A steady flow of bumps and thumps marked their time more than any changes in the light or heaviness in the air. It might have been hours, or even days before the vehicle finally came to rest. Once again, doors opened and closed. A hand reached in and pulled out the jar and thrust it into the sunlight. Someone unscrewed the lid and tipped the contents over. Honey tumbled out in a heap atop her cohorts, many of whom did not move.

“Where are we?” asked the injured drone.

Honey blinked as confusion and grogginess slowly yielded to sunlight and clarity. They were in a meadow. Not just any meadow, a beautiful meadow filled with dozens… no, hundreds of wildflowers! The colors and shapes and sizes made Honey swoon. Here stood a larger abundance of pollen and resources her collective had ever encountered in the canyon.

She took a moment, drinking in the beauty for a long moment. Then her heart sank. The other bees from the jar lay in piles around her. Most were dead. A few, such as the drone, moved feebly. None looked in any condition to harvest nectar or rebuild a hive.

Why had she trusted Belle? What did she think would happen? What had she hoped for? Without her queen, without the collective, nothing remained but purposelessness, despair, and death.

Then she heard it, the distant but distinct call of a queen. So out of practice, it took Honey a moment to decode the pheromonal message:

Come to me. Safety. Peace. Happiness.

Completely forgetting her damaged forewing, Honey launched herself into the sky. Pain followed immediately after, but Honey ignored it. Too excited, too elated, too exhilarated, Honey raced across the meadow towards the source of the message.

Come to me. Safety. Peace. Happiness.

There! In the giant walnut that looked very similar to the old oak tree.. Nestled among a crook in the high branches protecting it from wind a rain… A hive! Small, yes, but filled with a vibrant colony buzzing with health and vitality.

She tasted the pheromones closely. Did she dare hope? Did she dare imagine? She no sense of alarm or hostility at her approach, Honey zipped straight pass the outliners and right into the honeycomb. There could be no mistaking it now.

That scent… That magnificent familiarity could mean only one thing. Honey crawled through the passageways with feverish excitement. Thorax thrumming and antennae twitching, she raced to the queen’s throne at the heart of the hive. With so many other bees in the halls, she had to climb over, under, and around the others to make any progress. But with each bee she passed, she knew it more and more…

The queen’s chamber came into view and Honey’s tiny heart burst with joy. There on the throne, brimming in all her black and amber glory buzzed the queen… Her queen! A flood of mixed emotions rushed through Honey, overwhelming her senses. So many of her brethren had died. And yet, many more had survived. Standing in the queen’s chamber, the rush of bitter and beautiful, pain and pleasure, nearly overwhelmed her.

Certainly, the past continued dark hours, but the future contained not just hope and light but fields full of flowers and a happy, healthy hive to share it all with.

The end.