A. Colucci - The Colony

He cleared his throat in the microphone and feedback blasted to the ceiling. TV screens went black, phones were hung up and the room quieted. Ambassadors fumbled with their earpieces.

“First off, I want to assure everyone you are perfectly safe down here. While I realize you’d rather be with your families or assisting coworkers on the ground, you’re here because you are not expendable. The only chance this city has is to keep you safe.” Russo felt it was best to start a doomsday speech by flattering the audience, assuring their safety and then deferring to a higher authority. “I have a message from the president of the United States that was taped just minutes ago.”

As the president began to speak, Kendra started for the doorway, knowing for the first time since arriving where she was headed. With or without Paul, she was going to find a queen.

NEWS OF THE ATTACKS blasted through the bunker PA system as Kendra rushed hastily through the maze, unable to find Paul’s laboratory in so much confusion. She stumbled into the computer room, where Jeremy and his programmers were rushing between various computer stations.

“Kendra,” Jeremy gasped. He seemed to have lost some of his cool. “I was just about to look for you.”

“Tell me you found something useful.”

“Come with me.”

He led Kendra to the back of the large room, filled with high-end computer servers that rose from the floor like an industrial garden. The chilly air smelled like fresh paper and plastic. Kendra recognized the loud humming that emanated from an ABI gene sequencer, an enormous stainless steel machine connected by satellite to the IBM Sequoia supercomputer at the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory. It processed information at lightning speed, 20 petaflops, or the equivalent of twenty thousand trillion calculations per second, meaning it would take 120 billion people armed with calculators nearly fifty years to process what Sequoia could do in a day. It was one of the few computers in the world capable of sequencing the Siafu Moto DNA within hours.

Jeremy rolled up a chair for Kendra beside him. She flinched when a twelve-inch ant crawled over the desk. Then her heart slowed when she realized it was just a hologram; an oversized 3-D Siafu Moto image floating over a platform. It was the first time Kendra had seen one of these space-age, screenless computers up close. They were all the rage in techie circles, cutting-edge scientists like Jeremy who could spare a few hundred grand.

Jeremy swiped a finger over the image and it froze. “We’ve been working on this all night,” he said, jittery with nervous energy. The single ant began spinning in circles, a perfect replica of the Siafu Moto, down to the heinous stinger. The hologram seemed so tangible, Kendra thought she could reach out and touch it.

“The DNA sequencing is complete,” he told her, and the long, colorful strand of molecules spun gracefully in front of her. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It compares to no other ant on a molecular level. It’s a monster.”

“What can you tell me?”

“They have an overabundance of pheromone-binding proteins.”

“Yes, we know from the EAGs that they’re highly sensitive to odor.”

“According to their gene, Gp-nine, these ants are monogynous and have only one queen to each colony.”

“Like Siafu, not fire ants.”

“They’re a fierce hybrid.” Jeremy was revved with excitement. “Check out these powerful legs. From video footage on the news stations, we clocked them at nine miles an hour. They have two speeds—stop and go. When they reach their prey, they attack like a single unit, like some demon from hell. Unbelievable.”

Kendra was growing impatient. “Can you find the queens?”

“No. They’re on the hunt. However, we did locate the nests.” A model of a park floated in the air. “We started breeding the first colony in Riverside Park. We set the computer to the exact date and place that the FBI believes the ants were released. Then we let nature take its course, watched them multiply for two years and spread across the city.” The angle pulled back and Manhattan floated like an island in space. Hundreds of blue dots lit up like a Christmas tree. “The blue lights represent nesting sites of the queens. If the program is right, we’re facing forty thousand subcolonies in Manhattan, over nine hundred billion ants.”

“So the military was right on target.”

“First for everything.” He brought up a series of grainy aerial images of the city, taken by satellite surveillance cameras with night-vision capabilities. “The army just released these photos and they seem to confirm my findings. Wherever you see clusters of bodies, those are likely nesting areas where the colonies emerged.”

“Where the heck have they been hiding for two years?”

“Check out this view of underground Manhattan.” Jeremy pulled up a map, an enormous tangled web of colored lines. “Below this city are twenty-nine million miles of subway tunnels, cables, sewer lines, gas and steam pipes—the length of which could circle the earth twelve hundred times.” Over the colored lines was a pattern of black lines connected by circles, like a constellation. “These lines represent each subcolony and the circles show where they intersect. Like any supercolony, they spread out, but they stay together.”

“So they’re an easy target for my pheromone formula.”

“If you can find a queen.” Jeremy tapped at the keyboard. Numbers and charts flew by. “According to my data, they’re subterranean like Solenopsis, but once they surface—they’re Siafu all the way.”

“So much for digging up the nests. Siafu are nomads.” She sighed, knowing driver ants could leave their nests for months. They hold nightly raids and rest during the day, building living nests with their bodies. The gigantic balls, called bivouacs, are often found in hollow tree trunks. Members hold on to one another’s legs to form various passages and chambers that contain food, eggs and larvae, and of course, the coveted queen.

“Unfortunately that’s what my program suggests,” he agreed. “The colonies will attack at night and set up camps during the day, maybe in the walls of buildings.”

“Then that’s where I’m headed.”

“Better bring a sledgehammer.”

Kendra thought of Paul. “Think I’ll just bring the bait.”

Jeremy clicked his tongue knowingly. “It is amazing the great Paul O’Keefe didn’t see this coming. He’s been studying these ants for what—two weeks? I’ve only been here a few hours and already I’ve found the nests. Too bad I wasn’t brought in sooner.”

Kendra ignored the comment. She stood to leave. “Wish me luck.”

“You aren’t going out there yourself?” Jeremy said, alarmed. “It’s too dangerous, Kendra. Let Paul go—it’s the least he can do.”

“No time for that.” Kendra looked at the enormous city floating like a planet in space and rubbed her weary eyes. They felt dry and scratchy.

Jeremy pressed a warm hand to her forehead. “Looks like you’re about to crash.”

“I have other plans,” she said, and squared her shoulders. “Keep at it, huh?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

KENDRA REACHED THE LABORATORY, ready for an argument. She found Paul staring into a microscope looking panicked. His hair stuck up in odd directions and his shaky hands were clumsily turning knobs and adjusting slides. There was a chaotic mess of printouts strewn across the counters.

Paul snapped to attention when he saw Kendra and fanned out several loose sheets of paper, stammering out his findings. “The reports are not good. Results are coming back from every institute on the planet. They all say the same thing. Indestructible.” He fired off the data. “Negative to fungus and disease. Negative to parasites. Negative to natural enemies. Strepsiptera, Orasema, nematodes, mites, phorid flies. They tried high-pressure oxygen. A hundred pesticides.” He smacked the pile of reports. “Those damn corporate suits just hightailed it out of the city, for chrissakes.”