A. Colucci - The Colony

Paul was sitting on the floor clad in white, peering out of the plastic window with terrified eyes. Kendra sank to the cool marble tiles beside him.

The two scientists sat dumbstruck all alone in deafening silence. Paul uncovered his soaking wet head. “What the hell just happened?”

Kendra held up the trapped queen. “We got her.”

“Great.” Paul looked at the tiny prisoner. “But what the hell just happened?”

“They disappeared,” she said. “It doesn’t make sense. The second we trapped the queen, the whole colony took off.”

Paul was silent, processing this information, wondering if it meant something useful.

Kendra studied the queen in the glass chamber and grimaced. There was more to this queen than anyone had been told. Her voice was laced with promise. “Maybe we just found our signal. Let’s get back to the bunker.”

BY 9:00 A.M. MOBS OF civilians were making their way to the United Nations, drawn to a fleet of army helicopters that circled the roof, landing and taking off in quick succession. The streets became a surging human river, and Paul and Kendra were caught up in the current. They drifted with the crowd in every direction, bodies pressed together like floating debris. National Guardsmen had taken position around the perimeter of the building, visors down, rifles ready.

Swirling in a whirlpool of panicked refugees, Kendra felt someone grab her hair from behind. A couple of men were clawing at her white suit, yelling something with an accent. The larger one latched onto the dangling headpiece and pulled, choking Kendra around the neck, while the younger one, practically a kid, grasped her shoulder trying to unzip the back.

“Ant suit! Ant suit!” he cried “Give me, please—for my mum.”

“I’ll pay you!” the other man said and held up a wallet.

Paul tried to slap the men away, but the big one caught his gloves and tried to snatch those too. Paul looked back at Kendra, practically being strangled. “Unzip—!” He choked on his own words as the large man grabbed his hood as well.

Kendra punched her fist into the man’s face and he fell back, only to resume the fight.

Paul unzipped his own headpiece and the man grabbed it in his hand and ran, waving the white hood like a winning lottery ticket, leaving Paul angry and bewildered why anyone would want a piece of an ant suit that was useless by itself. He ripped off his gloves and threw them at the youngster, who was still struggling with Kendra. The kid grabbed the mitts, equally excited, and took off. Another idiot, Paul thought.

The two scientists were still churning along the streets and were nearly separated trying to make their way to the entrance. Paul considered firing his gun, but these maniacs would probably try to steal that too. The mob reached the brink of the barricades but held back, seeming to sense if they came any closer, shots would be fired.

Paul and Kendra hurled themselves onto a walkway, where they spotted a soldier with sergeant stripes. Paul tried to explain that they needed to get inside the UN.

The young sergeant was dizzy with frustration, his crew cut soaked in sweat. His bellowing answer seemed to be directed at everyone. “The building is closed! Go back to First Avenue and head north to the park. There are helicopters landing and plenty of boats leaving by the Queensboro Bridge and Roosevelt Island.”

A strained voice broke through his walkie-talkie, shouting commands. The sergeant once again yelled to the crowd, “Please, folks! The ants are headed this way, they’ll be here any minute. You’ve got to get out of this area!” He threw his arms out to the crowd but no one moved.

“We need to get inside the bunker,” Paul demanded.

“What bunker?” The sergeant seemed genuinely clueless and Paul figured even at this crucial hour, not everyone was privy to the city’s secrets. He tried to explain, but the sergeant just shook his head, and then finally pushed his way through the crowd, escorting them to his commanding officer at the main entrance of the UN.

The moment Paul mentioned the underground bunker, the officer became alert. He slid both their ID tags through an electronic scanner and allowed them back into the building.

Paul and Kendra quickly retraced their steps through the cafeteria, down a hallway to the stairwell leading to the top floor. As they neared the roof, they heard the thunderous sounds of helicopter engines and shouts of commands.

Choppers were taking off from the blacktop, evacuating the last few civilians from the bunker. All of the UN delegates had been hastily assembled over the course of three hours and forced to make the three-hundred-foot climb up the ladder. Those physically unable were airlifted by a harness.

“That’s the last of them,” a captain shouted to the pilot and then scowled at the approaching scientists. “Where did you two come from?”

“We have to see General Dawson,” Paul said.

The captain vehemently shook his head. “Everyone is to be evacuated immediately. Those are the general’s orders.” He turned to the pilot, “Can you take two more?”

Kendra wasn’t about to board any helicopter. She broke for the hatch with Paul. The captain grabbed her arm. “Get your ass in this chopper, lady—now!”

Paul pushed the officer aside and reached into his bag. As the man drew his gun, Paul withdrew the queen, displaying it plainly. “Do you know what this is?”

“I have my orders, sir.”

“This is a queen ant. It may hold the key to killing off these insects. The general is waiting for it. Do you wish to keep the general waiting?”

The captain stared at the enormous ant for a long moment. “The last evac is coming at seventeen hundred. That’s five o’clock. You be on that flight.” He frowned at Paul and got into the helicopters with the others. The civilians buckled up, and he yelled to the pilot, “Let’s go!”

As the helicopter tore into the sky, Paul and Kendra headed for the bunker.

Kendra held tight to the rungs. The pounding in her head had returned, along with nausea and body aches. Below her wobbly legs, Paul stayed close, talking her down. They hit the dirt floor and collapsed against the bedrock, dirty, bruised and exhausted. Kendra clenched her chattering teeth. She could almost feel the poison still lingering in her body, a living surge of heat through her veins.

“You need another dose,” Paul said, fumbling through the backpack for his medical bag. “Something’s wrong. You might be falling back into shock.”

“Nothing is wrong. I haven’t slept for days. We took the Twilight Zone tour of the city. I missed being an ant hor d’oeuvre by two seconds.” She had other examples but the truth was, she felt terrible. Kendra stood up with a forced grin, refusing the shot and taking the medical bag from Paul. “I’ll be fine.”

They started through the bunker, but pretty soon she was losing strength and fell behind Paul as they headed toward the lab. She nonchalantly pulled an EpiPen out of the bag, pricked her arm with the needle and pinched her eyelids shut, imagining the chemicals filling her body.

This better work. If there were something to worry about, they would know soon enough. Meanwhile, there was no need to throw Paul into another anxiety attack. There was plenty of work to do and not a lot of time.

The Siafu Moto queen was bumping around inside the rucksack, not appreciating the hurried ride. For most of the trip, she’d scurried furiously around the glass. Having gotten used to the bottle, she appeared much calmer. Kendra imagined how long it would take to extract her pheromones and create enough serum to blanket a city. But would there be time to stop the colonies before they spread? Would her breakthrough research even work? She felt suddenly full of doubt and wondered how many other scientists were trying to come up with an antidote. What were they doing while she and Paul were scouting for a queen? Perhaps some entomologist in Australia, South America or right here in the United States had already found a solution or discovered there was none at all.