Brood X: A Firsthand Account of the Great Cicada Invasion

by Michael Phillip Cash

  Seth wondered briefly how Jimmy knew a word that big. He probably read a lot in between his busy schedule.

  “Rolling power outages, no deliveries, no trucking, all transportation will be at a standstill. No type of services anywhere. Civilization as we know it will be stopped. Kaput. Gone. Finished.”

  “Stop,” Seth held up his hand. “I get it.”

  He paused and considered the very blue sky. “Yep. No ball games either.”

  “Well, in that case, it’s clearly going to be a problem,” Seth replied. “The good news is that at least it looks like the Mets can blame cicadas for their losing streak.”

  Jimmy threw the machete against the wall where it quivered stuck in the wood. He sighed with satisfaction and wiped his hands down his dirty jeans. Curling his finger, he urged Seth to come closer. “Look,” he confided, “I got a buddy in the CIA.” He looked furtively around to make sure they were completely alone. “He told me they did an evaluation of the soil in Pennsylvania, Connecticut, Jersey, Upstate New York and Long Island. There are trillions of them.”

  “Trillions?”

  “Upon trillions and trillions.”

  “Did he tell you who killed Kennedy too?”

  “He told me it’s gonna be a big... fuckin’... mess.”

  Seth considered this for a minute. He went back to thinking if Jimmy took care of his place better, just maybe he might have believed him. Looking around the armpit he called a garage, Seth figured this guy was as crazy as the media.

  “So, Jim, you got any cicada repellant? I’m looking for the environmentally friendly kind. Lucy thinks going green will make a difference with the ozone.”

  “You mean cicada killer?”

  “Sure.”

  Jimmy laughed, revealing very bad orthodontic work. Seth couldn’t believe the guy would show his teeth like that. Really, what were his parents thinking? This was Oyster Bay, after all. No wonder he never had a date, Seth thought.

  “You can’t kill something of this magnitude with fairy dust. World’s ending. Better move fast. Here, take some batteries and flashlights.” Jimmy pressed a flashlight into Seth’s hand.

  “I didn’t come here for flashlights, dude. I have batteries at home,” Seth told him.

  “Have you tested them? Do you know if they even work?”

  “Um, I have to ask Lucy.”

  Jimmy looked disgusted with this poor excuse of a man. “Pussy.”

  Seth was about to blurt out when was the last time Jimmy got laid, but he caught sight of the pistol grip pump action 12-gauge again. Better he kept his mouth shut.

  “Take this box.” He reached up and grabbed a box from a large stack in the corner and wiped off a layer of mouse crap. Seth wondered briefly if he was going to get the Hantavirus.

  “Is it fairy dust?” Seth asked hopefully.

  “I don’t know why, but I like you,” Jimmy laughed.

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Seth said with a sigh.

  “It’s water in plastic packets,” Jimmy explained.

  “Thanks, Jimmy, but our water’s fine. Lara, I, uh, mean Lucy won’t drink from plastic.” This time he leaned closer to confide. “She thinks it causes cancer.”

  “Listen. Once they get into the water system, it’s finished. Just take it. Stack up on canned goods.”

  “She has a problem with lead in the cans,” Seth shared.

  “Well, neighbor, tell her to get over it.”

  “Jimmay…Jimmay…” The strident call came from the house. “Who are you talking to?”

  Jimmy rolled his eyes. “I’m with the neighbor, Ma. Whatya want?”

  A beast of a woman lumbered into view. Wearing a faded pink housedress, hair piled in an untidy bun, Jimmy's mother stood in the doorway in filthy bunny slippers.

  “Oh hey, are you Lucy's husband?”

  “Yup. How are you, Mrs. Cain? Nice day today.” Seth smiled.

  “Damn mice in the house. Jimmy, put out that poison I told you was in the garage. I don’t want to get no Hantavirus,” she harrumphed and blew through a pursed mouth.

  “Can you really get the Hantavirus by breathing in mouse crap?” Seth inquired a little nervously.

  “Jimmy been talking to you about the infestation?” the mother interrupted.

  “Of mice?”

  “Cicada!” she shouted.

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  “You got weapons?”

  “Weapons, um, no. No, I don’t like guns.”

  “When’s baby coming?” she demanded.

  Seth didn’t know what the hell was going on or what the hell they were talking about. He actually had to think for a minute; the conversation was all over the map. “Late August.”

  “Better get prepared, boy. Jimmy, give him a knife. He don’t like guns, so give him your knife.” Ma Cain pointed to Jimmy’s back pocket.

  “Aw, Mom, I love this knife,” Jimmy whined.

  “I said give it to him.” She looked at him with laser eyes in her sweaty red face.

  Seth shuddered, wondering briefly what was going on in this loony bin. “Jimmy!” she yelled, looking at her son with an expression that boded ill.

  “Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, taking out his lethal-looking pocketknife and handing it to Seth.

  “Well,” Seth said, taking it with his thumb and forefinger, “that's not a Boy Scout knife.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Thanks, Jimmy. You’re a good man.” Seth liked him for all his craziness. “Thanks, Mrs. Cain. I’ll give your regards to m’wife.” He smiled at her.

  “It’s just been sharpened. Can cut through anything,” Jimmy warned him. “Here take some duct tape too.” Jimmy tossed him a gray roll of duct tape. “That stuff’s good for everything.”

  Seth deftly caught it.

  “When all this begins, come over for pizza. We’ll have a cicada doomsday party,” Seth said as he retreated.

  ***

  Seth wore old faded jeans slung low over his waist. He knew he looked good and it seemed a shame to waste his look on hard labor. Three paint cans lay unopened on the floor. Cursing, he picked them up, put them in the hallway and unfolded a spotted drop cloth over the new carpet.

  He placed his rollers, sponges, and tape in a neat pile in the center of the room. Popping open the lid, he stirred the ice blue color and pondered if he should scrape the windows more. That was a bitch and he hated painting. If he was working, they would have hired a handyman, but under the circumstances, it seemed uneconomical.

  Well, he thought grimly, it looked easy enough on television and he wanted to get the job done, before Lara came from school. She wasn’t expecting this and boy would she be surprised. She was mad as hell when he managed to score extra batteries for the camcorder, but nothing for the flashlights. Seriously pissed, he could hear her little brain wondering what he was doing all day. Well, he sighed, he did try. There were no batteries around, anywhere. But, he figured, they had time until the emergence. He could pick them up next month. Maybe he’d tell her father to send them from Arizona. On second thought, hell no. There wasn’t a thing super dad couldn’t do. Seth would get the batteries, he knew he would, but now he had to work on getting the room painted.

  Working in silence, he never realized two hours had passed. It really wasn’t such a terrible job. Spreading the paint had a soothing effect and gave him time to think. His job on Wall Street had evaporated in the credit crisis. It’s not that he even loved the job, he was not an aggressive broker, but his personality brought him sales. He actually felt that he was selling nothing and it seemed unethical, like he was a con man. He didn’t mind that fact that the job ended. He really didn’t know what he wanted to do. It was depressing when you think that you go to school and when you get out you are sentenced to work for the rest of your life. Shouldn’t work be fun? He wished for a minute he had a talent or a passion for something. Well, he liked to eat. That was something, he shrugged. Maybe he should do something invol
ving food. He considered the possibilities and didn’t hear his wife creep up into the room.

  “Oh, it’s so nice,” she exclaimed startlingly him. He jumped hitting the white ceiling with the blue colored roller.

  “Crap. I’ll have to fix that.” he thought, looking up.

  “You did such a good job. It’s a great color.”

  “Yeah,” he sat down wearily on the floor. Patting the floor, Lara obliged and sank down next to him.

  “Tired?”

  “Yes, but in a good way. Maybe I’ll try to get a job painting.”

  Lara considered his amateurish job and didn’t have the heart to tell him that it probably wasn't a very good idea.

  “Hungry?” she asked.

  “Starved. I forgot to eat lunch.”

  Lara looked at him, he was strangely subdued.

  “You okay?”

  “Never better. You in the mood for peanut butter and jelly?”

  “Yummm.”

  ***

  “Let’s go for a walk,” Lara asked eagerly while she put on her winter coat.

  “It’s freezing outside.” Seth complained.

  “I don’t care. It smells like snow and I just want to get some air.”

  Seth shrugged into his parka and they strolled arm in arm down the quiet street.

  “I love this place,” Lara said dreamily. “It’s the perfect neighborhood to bring up kids. I’m so happy we moved here.”

  “Any place where you are is the perfect place,” Seth kissed the top of her head. “How was school?”

  “I had a ball today. The kids are delightful. We are studying butterflies. I read somewhere I can buy a kit and sort of grow them. I’m thinking of doing it this spring. ’

  “That ought to be fun. Are you going to be okay with insects in the classroom? It’s cold, Lara. I don’t think this was such a good idea.”

  “Indulge me. Let’s walk faster. It’ll keep us warm.”

  “I can think of a better way to keep you warm. “

  “Race you home,” she smiled mischievously at him and they made it home in record time.

  Chapter 4

  Hibernation

  “Perhaps I am a bear, or some hibernating animal underneath, for the instinct to be half asleep all winter is so strong to me.”

  - Anne Morrow Lindbergh

  Lara snatched the charging camcorder from the kitchen counter calling out, “Come on Seth! Don’t take all day.”

  She made her way to the car parked in the garage. Making a nest for herself inside the car with her list, water, oversized purse and of course the ever-present camcorder, she watched the minutes on the dash ticking by and rolled her eyes impatiently. With the palm of her hand, she pressed the horn wincing at its loud blare. “That man!” she muttered.

  Another five minutes passed and she angrily yanked open the car door as Seth skipped out of the garage entrance.

  “Miss me?” he crooned.

  “What took you so long?” her mouth narrowed to a firm line.

  “Don’t do that,” Seth warned. “You look like your mother.”

  While Lara busied herself digging out trail mix from her mammoth bag, Seth pulled out of the driveway, into the early springtime.

  The leaves started budding with that fresh light green color. The air was soft with the smell of jasmine.

  “Open the sunroof, Seth. Do you smell those flowers?” Lara asked taking a deep breath.

  “Yeah, my allergies are killing me. What’s the plan ma’am?”

  “The baby store. The baby furniture store. The toy store. But I need some decaf coffee,” Lara said.

  “I’m your chauffeur and I will take you wherever your little heart desires.”

  “And don’t forget,” Lara interrupted. “Jimmy said we should stock up on batteries. Do you want to do that first?”

  “Nah, we could pick ‘em up on the way back. I also need new netting for the hoop.”

  “Oh, right, and I want new stationary,” she remembered adding another item to her list.

  ***

  Lara filmed Seth coming out empty-handed from yet another store.

  “What happened?” she called out.

  “They were all out of batteries,” Seth entered the car. “No worries, babe. I’ll try somewhere else tomorrow.”

  “Seth.”

  “What?”

  “What do you mean they were all out?”

  “I cannot be any more specific,” Seth deadpanned. “Do you want to go in?”

  “Not really.”

  “So, like I said, I’ll find some tomorrow. It’s no big deal. We’ll get it when more shipments arrive.”

  “I don’t believe this. That’s four stores. Where are all the batteries?”

  “Are we done yet?” Seth asked with a long-suffering sigh.

  “I really have to get that stationary. We need it. One more stop.”

  Seth slouched his shoulders and drove to the next outlet.

  ***

  Lara entered the car carrying loose papers in her hand.

  "Do you want to see my stationary?” she asked. “It’s so pretty.”

  “No,” Seth said unhappily. “I want to go eat.”

  “You promised to be my chauffeur today. We’re not done yet,” Lara looked up to him, her blue eyes wide with excitement.

  “That was then, this is now. And five stops later, really Lara, I’ve had enough. I want to go eat.”

  They drove off to the diner.

  ***

  There was nothing Seth liked better than food shopping and he was going to film the experience to show Lara when he got home. Usually Lara did all the shopping, but lately, she had been too tired. He volunteered happily, racing his cart up and down the aisles. Fruits and vegetables were never his forte. Somehow, she complained his pears were too soft and the melons too hard. That doesn’t sound promising, he smirked. He noticed a new display being set up, much like the supermarkets did as a holiday approached. He wondered if he was forgetting some upcoming event. Strolling towards it, his cart smacked into another one.

  “Hey Seth, what’s new?”

  It was Cathy, their neighbor from across the street.

  “Nothing much, food shopping. Helping Lara.”

  She talked to him, but was eyeing the workers setting up the new display. “What’s that all about?”

  “I don’t know. I was just about to check it out myself.” With their shopping carts, they walked side by side to the rows of food being set up. There were huge cans, vegetables, fruit, shortening, all in super jumbo sized. Two men were loading them on the shelf.

  “What’s going on?” asked Seth.

  An overweight, balding man wearing a dirty white coat, wiped the sweaty forehead and walked over to them. “Our store is participating in the new ‘Ready, Set, Go’ program.”

  “What’s that?’ Cathy asked as he handed her a flyer.

  “We are taking responsibility by urging people to stock up and be prepared for the upcoming cicada event this summer. These canned goods are USER approved.”

  “User approved? What kind of shit...” Seth started to ask.

  “Shush, Seth. What does that mean?” Cathy interrupted him. She had already started loading cans of string beans and carrots into her cart. They were mammoth sized.

  “United States Emergency Rations, its run by the CER?”

  “And what pray tell, is the CER?” Seth inquired looking at a super-sized bag of potato chips. Now this, he was going to need.

  “Central Emergency Rationing. It’s the new organization that the government set up for when there are shortages. Here,” he handed Seth a pamphlet. “This is what they suggest you have in the house.”

  Seth scanned the list. Cathy grabbed one from the man and started loading up canned gallon-sized peas.

  “No thanks,” Seth gave back the paper. “How bad could it get?” The only thing he planned to stock up on was dip to go with his chips. He waved to Cathy who now was stuffing freez
e dried turkey onto the bottom of her cart, “Bye, Cath. Don’t forget to get dog food.”

  “Oh my God,” she cried out, “Where is the emergency supply for pets?”

  Seth heard her panicked cries as he strolled the beverage section for a six pack grinning.

  ***

  Seth grabbed the camcorder and his baseball cap and headed for the garage.

  “I’ll be back in an hour,” he called out to Lara. “I’m going to the hardware store.”

  Pulling the car out of the garage, he paused to look at his forsythia bush and mentally noted to get rope to tie it back together. The heavy snow had crushed and broken the bush, and now that its bright yellow buds were blooming, he could see if he didn’t tie it up, the bush would die.

  There was a lot of activity on his quiet street. People were out, bringing bulky boxes into their houses. “Well, this is encouraging,” he thought. Maybe it would jolt the sagging economy. Perhaps a job would turn up.

  The normally quiet streets of Oyster Bay were packed with springtime shoppers. Cars were double- and triple-parked. Local stores were doing a booming business. Seth reflected, if this was any sign, it looked like things were bouncing back. That should please the wife.

  He pulled into a small hardware store off the main street of town. He liked it better than the big-box stores; he got more personal attention there.

  There was a line out the door. Squeezing in, he looked for a familiar face. It was bedlam. He held up a hand and tried to get the attention of the store’s owner. “Rich?” he called out. “Richie.” Richard, the owner, glanced at Seth.

  “I don’t have time, Seth,” he called out from behind the counter. The phones were ringing off the hook. “It’s packed.”

  “What’s going on?” Seth shouted over the din.

  “What do you think? The cicadas,” Richard shrugged. “Batteries, generators, you name it. Listen, bro, I can’t take you out of place. Get in line.”

  Seth shook his head. “Nah. I‘ll come back.”

  Seth strode out of the store, without rope or batteries for that matter. He would get to it later, he thought.

  Maybe he’d try online.

  Seth left the store and eased into his car. He dropped the camera on the passenger seat pointing directly at him. Flipping on the radio, he scanned the stations. Bobby and Michelle in the Morning was blasting on Long Island’s best News Talk.