A. Colucci - The Colony

“We should have the entire DNA strand soon. You want to sit in?”

“No thanks. My focus is anatomy. You know—the actual ants.” She stood, ready to leave, but he caught her wrist.

“If Paul hadn’t come between us…”

Kendra could see the hurt in his expression. Things were never right with Jeremy. His jealousy of Paul could be maddening, but there was something sweet underneath his bombastic nature. Kendra realized she had failed not just one relationship but two, and touched Jeremy’s cheek. “I’m sure it would have been wonderful,” she said and headed toward the door. “See you around the watercooler.”

“Looking forward to it.”

PAUL SAT IN THE mayor’s office, across from Russo. It was a perfect replica of his study in Gracie Mansion, adorned with cherrywood walls, leather furniture, marble tables and a collection of antique guns in gilded frames. It gave the appearance of a stately office, one of a mighty municipal warrior, instead of an underground hideout padded with six inches of steel.

Paul shifted uncomfortably in his snug wooden chair. In any laboratory field or lecture hall he was a voice of authority, a tutor among colleagues. But now he had the feeling of being back in the principal’s office. A nine-year-old caught with a locker full of spiders, ladybugs and termites, forced to sit in front of a domineering man listening to lectures on the dangers of bringing vicious animals to school.

Russo pushed a stack of papers toward Paul. “Here you go.”

Paul stared, daunted at the reports, but didn’t pick them up. No doubt they all had reached the same conclusion. Besides, he’d finally mustered enough courage to confront the mayor and didn’t want to lose momentum. “I think Kendra is right about evacuating the city. We’re gambling with a lot of lives.”

“Now, Paul. We’ve been down this road before.” Russo waved a dismissive hand. “It’s my gamble, not yours. This is my city, my people and my responsibility.” He leaned back with a trace of sympathy. “I’m a military man, you know. Served four years in Iraq. I understand the casualties of war when you’re facing an enemy, human or not. It’s painful, sure, but you don’t risk the lives of many just to save a few.”

“What if it’s not a few? What if things get worse? We should be preparing for a possible disaster. Kendra and I have a theory that the ants might actually launch—”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, Paul.” Russo held up a palm. “Why do you think we’re all down in this bunker? We are following emergency procedures. I’m fully staffing this place. By Monday we’ll be able to completely run Manhattan from underground. But evacuating civilians? We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“I think we have come to it.”

“Hey, you’re the one who told me you could get rid of these bugs. I’ve given you all the authority, unlimited resources—just do it.”

“It isn’t that easy. We haven’t even been able to figure out why they attack.”

“Well, that’s why I hired you. To figure them out and kill them. I didn’t hire you to run around the city like those other lunatics, panicking the public. You’re different, Paul. You understand business and finance.”

He said it so offhandedly. Paul was taken aback at the idea that the mayor would put money ahead of human lives. He tried to sound more forceful. “I have to insist that you’re grossly underestimating the threat to this city. We need to make the facts public. At least that will free our consciences if anyone else gets hurt.”

“Free whose conscience? I don’t have a problem with mine.”

Paul blinked back his anger. He fought off his role as a scientist always to reveal the truth. What exactly was his role? It was all so confusing. He was part of a team, brought in by the mayor to solve a crisis without causing a citywide panic, yet he was tired of the lies, the cover-ups, evading the press. “We have a moral obligation to tell people the truth.”

“What truth is that?” the mayor asked flippantly.

“That New Yorkers are on the dinner menu of a trillion insects, thanks to the United States military.”

“That’s funny, Paul. You have a real gift for comedy—if you think going public is an option.”

Finally, Paul appealed to the bottom line. “What about our legal obligation? If you have no moral qualms, then consider the enormous liability to the victims.”

“Our asses are covered by the Homeland Security Act. This falls under federal jurisdiction, notably the United States Army, and believe me, I’m getting plenty of pressure from those bozos to keep the lid on this.”

“So that’s it? You’re rolling over for the general?”

Russo was losing patience. “What do you propose we do? You want to be responsible for the stampede out of town? It took me four years to get our fiscal house in order, now you want to balance a ten-billion-dollar deficit next year?” He stood up and strolled around the desk with a hearty grin. “Come on, Paul, you said so yourself, these deaths are probably isolated incidents. You didn’t find a single colony.”

“I was wrong. We know they’re out there. Hoards of freak insects created by some ecoterrorist experiment that I didn’t even know about.”

“Well, now you do. So take a look at these reports and think about it for a couple of days. Then I expect you to come back with some real solutions. If you can’t kill these ants, I don’t know who can.”

Paul walked out of the office feeling the mayor’s hand on his back. Russo nearly pushed him past his secretary. As they reached the hallway, Paul started to speak but the mayor shoved some folders into his hands. “Don’t forget the reports, huh? I’m sure there’s something useful in there. And we have dozens more coming in tonight.”

The door slammed shut and Paul stood alone in the hallway, once again feeling like he was back in the third grade.

KENDRA WALKED INTO THE laboratory, where Paul was feigning deep interest in a computer screen. He immediately forgot his trouncing by the mayor and replaced it with thoughts of jealousy.

“So what were you and the illustrious Rudeau discussing?”

“Usual ant chitchat.” Kendra busied herself with an assortment of glass slides. This was not the time to be making marital confessions, but she felt an overwhelming need to confront Paul, to talk about the affair, get it out of the way once and for all.

Kendra took a breath. “Paul. Jeremy and I—”

“Let’s not go there.” He stopped her with a raised palm.

“Fine.” She moved closer, but he eased back. “So tell me, why is he here?”

“Jeremy? I told you, to help us find the queens.”

She gave him a sideways glance.

“Like I said, the army wanted him here.”

The lab was suddenly stifling and Kendra felt a need for unsterilized oxygen. “Is there a way out of this tomb?”

“We’re not supposed to leave.”

Her eyes were pleading.

Paul held out a hand. “Let’s see that map.”

It felt like they were walking in circles. Paul continually turned the map of the bunker upside down and then right side up, scratching the side of his head. “Right… no left,” he kept muttering. Kendra fought the urge to confiscate the map, having learned that men had fragile egos when it came to directions. Choose your battles, she told herself as they headed toward the south end, the deepest part of the bunker, composed mostly of bedrock tunnels with few working lights. It was dead quiet, musty and dark, but according to the diagram this passage was the only place, besides the elevators, marked with an exit sign.