Brood X: A Firsthand Account of the Great Cicada Invasion

by Michael Phillip Cash

  Seth loved Bobby the shock jock. He had an acerbic wit and a sarcastic slant that mirrored Seth’s own opinions.

  “Bugs, shmugs!” Bobby quipped. “Hey Michelle, what are you doing to prep for this? Did you build a bug bunker yet? Everyone is bugging out and going buggers!”

  Michelle, the sidekick, her voice a throaty hum, responded, “I’m scared of spiders! I hate them!”

  “My sentiment exactly.” Bobby responded. “If it was spiders that were attacking Long Island, now that would be a problem. And wasn’t there a movie about spiders attacking a small town some time ago? Spiders are scary, I’ll give you that. But cicada? C’mon! Don’t they die after a few days or something? Can’t they come up with something more terrifying than a harmless little cicada? What’s next, a mutant ladybug litter? A praying mantis mother load?”

  Michelle cannot stop giggling at Bobby’s bug rant. Even Seth found it amusing.

  “A tsetse fly tumult?”

  “A mosquito mosh?” Michelle added.

  “Exactly! Oh, looks like we got a caller. We have Ryan from Oceanside. Ryan, how the hell are ya?”

  “Doing great, Bobby. Long time listener. Love the show.”

  “Thank you, Ryan. What’s on your mind? What do you think about this bugabaloo?”

  Clearly educated, Ryan spoke, “Look guys, I’m taking this thing a little more seriously this week. The stores are empty.”

  “What?!” Bobby cackled. “This is media generated hysteria. So the big box stores and the food marts will move all the old junk they’ve accumulated. I don’t believe any of this for a minute.”

  Seth pumped his fist and pointed his finger at the radio. “My man Bobby! Love ya baby!”

  “But Bobby,” Ryan continued. “I can’t find batteries anywhere. Do you remember the gas shortages…?”

  Bobby the host interrupted, “Oh come on you twerp, what could these bugs possibly do? They are bugs! B. U. G. S. Bugs! Don’t tell me, Ryan, you’re drinking the media driven Kool-Aid. You’re gonna make those corporations rich. Next caller. We have Marilyn from Woodbury. Marilyn, you’re on with Bobby and Michelle live. Talk to me baby, what’s on your mind.”

  “Get outta here with this bug junk. These people are nuts. This has never happened before, and they’re making a big deal about a bunch of insects.”

  Bobby interrupted, “Hold on, honey, I’m gonna three-way a call.”

  “Hello?” a distant voice said.

  “You’re on with Bobby, Michelle, and Marilyn.”

  “This is Connie. I live in Dix Hills,” a timid voice said over the airways.

  “Well hello Connie from Dix Hills. What do you think about the Great Cicada Invasion? Please speak up. We can barely hear you.”

  “My husband and I, along with our Church, are taking this very seriously. I mean, like, there were bug plagues in the Bible, you know, in Exodus. It could really happen here.”

  “C’mon Connie,” Bobby cut her off. “They have something called pesticides. It’s the twenty first century.”

  Michelle started laughing at Bobby’s comments and replied, “Maybe Bobby, you should go part the water in the Long Island Sound. Use your special staff.”

  Everyone on the radio, except for Connie, found this amusing.

  Seth flipped off the radio as he pulled into his driveway. He figured he would go look on the web for some batteries.

  The forsythia bush drooped unhappily as he walked past it. He decided he would surf the net for rope too.

  Unfortunately, upon entering the house, he got distracted by the half open bag of chips laying on the counter. Throwing himself down on the couch, chips and beer, he lazed the rest of the afternoon in a salty coma of satisfaction.

  ***

  “Put the camera away, please, Seth,” Lara implored him from the couch.

  “Lar, this is our story, our Love Story. He-he.”

  “Cut it out; this is important,” she replied patiently as if talking to a child.

  Seth laid the camcorder on the side table. “What’s up?”

  Lara took his hand and gently played with his fingers.

  “You know when you do that, Lar, I find it hard to concentrate.”

  Lara threw his hands away with disgust. “Listen, something weird is going on. I went to the market today. The shelves are empty. Empty. None of the groceries I get were there. They don’t know when to expect them. There was plenty of cat food though.”

  “We don’t have a cat.”

  “Exactly! That’s what I’m saying. The things I use were not in stock.”

  “Go to another store then,” Seth shrugged.

  “I did. They were out too. I also went to our butcher. He told me to stock up. Seth, let’s buy another freezer.”

  “Lara, we just don’t have the money to buy another stupid appliance.”

  “I can ask my parents...”

  “No, no, and no. Did I say no? I don’t want anything else from your parents. I promise you, they are just stimulating the economy. This isn’t going to be a problem. I will get you whatever you need,” Seth hugged her. “Have I ever let you down?”

  Lara kissed him gently on the lips. “I love you so much, but I think we need the freezer,” she persisted.

  “Is it going to make you happy?” Seth sighed.

  “Yessss,” Lara smiled at this small victory.

  “OK, let’s get a freezer.”

  ***

  “Can you get that?” Lara yelled from the basement. The doorbell rang again.

  “Seth!” she shouted. “I’m doing laundry. Get the door.” Lara called impatiently from the basement steps. “I can’t do those steps again. Seth!”

  “Keep your pants on,” Seth shouted back.

  Seth put the camcorder down on the kitchen table where he was inspecting it. The doorbell chimed again, but before Lara could scream, Seth called out “I got it,” and walked over to the door.

  “Jimmy my man,” Seth was surprised to see his neighbor on the front door step and held open the door for him to enter.

  “I’m all dirty,” Jimmy motioned to his soiled jeans. “Wanna come over to my place?”

  Seth shook his head no. “Can’t leave Lara. She’s in the basement. I’ll meet you in the backyard. Do you want a beer?”

  “Sure,” replied Jimmy. “You got a Bud?”

  “Heineken?”

  “Well, if that’s all you got.”

  “I may have a Samuel Adams Summer Ale…”

  “Sisssy stuff, I’ll take the Heineken.”

  Jimmy headed into the back, trailing all kinds of dirt and humus in his wake. After grabbing the beer and camcorder, Seth stepped into the late morning sunshine. Dropping the items on this picnic table, Seth opened the oversized orange-cantilevered umbrella. They had bought it at the end of the season last year. It covered the entire patio and brought much needed shade to the late spring day. The beers sweated on the table.

  Taking out a filthy terry towel, Jimmy smeared the dirt on his face. After a long swig he sighed, “Man, not bad. I prefer the American beers. Bud, Coors, you know. This isn’t half bad.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Seth replied. “What can I do ya for Jim?”

  “My Ma,” Jimmy said. “She sent this book over for the Missus. He pulled a dog-eared paperback from his back pocket, handing it to Seth.

  “Home Deliveries,” Seth read the title. “I don’t think they’re talking about Chinese food.”

  “Ha!” Jimmy exploded. “You’re funny, Seth. Nah, it’s my mom’s book on how to deliver a baby at home. My mom wanted your wife to have it.”

  “Sort of Childbirth for Dummies?”

  “Well I guess, my mom is a doula.”

  “A what?” Seth choked on his beer.

  “A doo-lah,” Jimmy said slowly. “When she used to leave the house, she helped women give birth.”

  “She doesn’t leave the house? What happened?”

  “Well, after my dad died, she started eating and c
ouldn’t stop. She was beautiful when she was young. Then when she put on, I don’t know, about two hundred pounds, she stopped leaving the house. She can barely walk anymore. Can’t fit in the electric wheelchair I bought her either. Lucky thing I live in a ranch.” Jimmy shrugged, his eyes filled. “She was something else when she was young, an asset to the community. As the old neighbors moved out, the new ones don’t want to bother with her, except for your wife. She’s a nice girl.”

  As if on cue, Lara looked out on them from the sliding doors, holding a basket filled with folded laundry. “Hi, Jimmy. How’s your mom? I bought some of that relish she liked last week. Make sure you take it home.”

  Jimmy jumped to his feet. “Can I help you with that, Mrs. Fletcher.”

  Lara laughed. “I told you to call me Lara, Jimmy.”

  Jimmy’s face turned beat red to the tips of his ears.

  Seth got up and took the laundry from a surprised Lara. Nobody was going to outshine him with manners. “Thanks Jimmy, I got it,” Seth said.

  Lara’s mouth formed a perfect “O” then followed with a sweet smile of satisfaction. “Thanks hon,” she winked at him.

  “Jimmy’s mother sent over some reading material for us.” He gestured the book with a nod.

  Lara stepped outside and took a seat in the shade. She kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet underneath her. “It’s hot for April I don’t get it. It was so cold, and then it’s like the heat got turned on. The weather has been so weird.” She picked up the book and smiled, “Tell your mom thank you. She’s so sweet to think of me.”

  “Our pleasure ma’am,” Jimmy laughed with delight.

  Seth set the laundry basket on the kitchen table so he could go back outside. He usually didn’t mind Jimmy, but this was a peculiar side of his neighbor he never saw before.

  Jimmy stood, “Well I gotta go. Make sure you stock up before the, you know.” He looked at Seth. He picked up his empty beer bottle and looked at them questionably where to put it.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Lara reassured him. “We recycle.”

  After he left, Seth and Lara exchanged looks followed with a chuckle.

  “He brought homework. Childbirth 101,” Seth informed her. “It may be useful.”

  Lara flipped through the pages and made a face. Seth took the book and threw it across the table.

  “Seth!” Lara reached for it.

  “I think our neighbor has a crush on you,” Seth shared.

  “Don’t be silly. Look at me,” she gestured her burgeoning waist.

  “I don’t think you’ve ever been lovelier.”

  “Oh Seth,” Lara sat on his lap and kissed his lips. “Am I too heavy?”

  Seth adjusted her to fit in the cradle of his lap as his lips found hers and he whispered, “Never.”

  ***

  Lara sat at the kitchen counter, her head resting in her palm, her face pensive. A small television was droning on about news of the upcoming cicada invasion, making her both unsettled and a bit nervous.

  She was flipping through the illustrated pages of the childbirth book.

  “Hey baby, whatcha doing?” the camcorder was filming her.

  “Stop,” she pushed Seth away. “You should be watching this.”

  Seth put the camcorder on the stool, “What? Oh cicada again?”

  He went to shut the TV and Lara stayed his hand. “Really stop,” she was annoyed. “You should know what we have to do.”

  “Did you talk to your parents today?” Seth asked, an idea forming in his head.

  Lara ignored him, her eyes glued to the program.

  Seth stormed out of the room with a curse.

  Lara sighed, shut the TV and went downstairs to do a laundry. For some reason, laundry duties always calmed her. Seth returned ready to make peace, only to find an empty kitchen. The book’s pages ruffled in the breeze from the open screen door. Grabbing a jar of peanuts, he sat munching and drew the book closer to him.

  Seth put the nuts down and read the first page aloud, “Be prepared,” he paused, furrowed his brow and said, “Duh. Let’s see what else this font of wisdom has to offer.”

  He learned that you’re supposed to dial 9-1-1. “Well what a surprise,” he muttered. “Stay calm? No shit.” Seth almost put the book down, but after fanning through a few chapters the actual act of delivering a baby in an emergency caught his eye.

  “Try a side-lying position…Positioning yourself on your side will also lessen the intensity of the contractions and diminish the pressure, which in turn will help to prevent the baby's head from popping out…if the head of the baby is presenting, it is best to push between contractions rather than at the height of the contraction. These methods will help prevent tearing.”

  Seth shuddered and said, “Ouch,” he continued reading. “There is no need for manipulation of the shoulders unless more than three or four minutes has passed since the birth of the head…the umbilical cord will be clamped before it is cut with something to help seal off the open blood vessels in the cord…though it can also be a metal cord clamp or even cord tape. What is used depends largely on your practitioner…”

  Seth put the book down and said, “I better know that route to the hospital.”

  ***

  Lara stood by the window, grimly watching some activity outside.

  “What’s new, baby doll?” Seth walked in and kissed the back of her neck.

  “It’s that damn dog again,” she tapped on the window. “Stop that! Look,” she cried out, near tears. “He’s digging up my tulips!”

  “Wait. I gotta get this on camera!” Seth ran for the camcorder.

  “Stop!” she shouted. “Casey!” she called to the dog. “Stop. Oh, I’m going to get a broom and shove it up his…”

  “Lara, calm down. I’ll talk to Jeff about his dog. See,” he showed her the camera. “I have proof.”

  Seth strolled out the front door, the spring sun warm on his face. Kids were out playing basketball. Sun heated the damp earth, and trees budded all around him. He paused to admire the crocus they’d planted poking through the rich soil and felt like landed gentry. He was Baron Fletcher of his domain. Growing up in a smoky apartment with his mom and her string of boyfriends, he breathed deep of the air of affluence. It was special here, God’s country. He loved Long Island. When Lara landed her job locally, he agreed to the town. It was far from her parents, and his mom was also a plane trip away. He loved the isolation. People sometimes forget that Long Island is actually an island. It felt remote from the rest of the country, and Seth enjoyed that.

  He sauntered across the green acres of suburbia and saw Jeff washing his car, Casey the dog lapping at the running streams of water happily.

  “Hi, neighbor!”

  “Hey, Seth. What do you think about the Mets?”

  “Can’t hit for shit. Yanks man, myself,” responded Seth.

  “Go home, Yankee!” Jeff laughed. “How’s Lara? What’s the camera for?

  “Home movies of Casey digging up Lara’s tulips,” Seth laughed.

  “Sorry.” Jeff reached down and played with his dog’s floppy ears. “He’s a nuisance, but you gotta love him.”

  “I don’t care, but she was nuuuts,” Seth said with a smirk.

  They both thought that was hilarious.

  “You want me to send over the gardeners to fix it?”

  “Nah. Just wave your arms a bit, so Lara thinks you’re defensive.” Jeff obliged him. “Yeah, great!” Seth pointed his finger aggressively and winked. “She’s gonna love this.”

  Cathy, Jeff’s wife, poked her head out the door. “Hi, Seth. Hear about the cicadas?”

  Both men looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

  “Here we go again,” Jeff said.

  “I know,” responded Seth. Then he turned to Cathy and replied, “We bought a freezer for the basement,” he shrugged, embarrassed. “Made Lara happy.”

  Cathy turned to her husband, “See, I told you. We need a freezer t
oo.”

  “Cathy, we don’t need a freezer. It’s stupid.”

  “You’re stupid,” she pounded down the steps.

  “Oops, my bad,” Seth said sheepishly. “Sorry, man.” He looked at Cathy approaching them like a Sherman tank. “I’m outta here.”

  “I wish I could be too,” Jeff mourned and let the hose drop so he could finish his argument. Seth bounced back into his house smiling at Lara, who was watching the fight across the street.

  “Told them a thing or two,” Seth boasted.

  ***

  The doorbell rang insistently. Once, twice, and then four more times. Seth raced up the basement steps to find his neighbor’s daughter dressed up in a green uniform and looking up expectantly at him.

  “Can I help you Emmy?”

  “Hi Theth,” her lisp sent Seth into gales of laughter.

  “Wath it thomething I thed?”

  “No Emmy, but you sure are cute. Where are your front teeth?” Seth pointed to vacant spot in the front of her smile.

  “Loth them. I am earning a badge on the thacadas,” she held up a shoebox with wire hangers cut through the sides holding up netting. “Thith is a thacada catcher. If you buy one, I get poinths to my badge.”

  “Well then, we must buy one. In fact, I’ll take two.”

  “I only have one,” poor Emmy looked downcast.

  “One will do just fine. How much?” Seth asked.

  “Three dollarths.”

  “A steal. Wait here,” Seth ran into the kitchen where his wallet lie on the counter. He slid out three bucks and went back to the door and gave it to the little girl.

  “Pretty impressive,” he rolled back the screen.

  “They get thuck in there. Then they die,” Emmy informed him with relish.

  “Good work. Do you have cookies for sale too?” Seth asked hopefully.

  “Cookies are nexth month. Thanks Theth. Bye.” Emmy let the screen door slam on Seth’s knee and he hopped back into the house holding his cicada trap. “This will impress Lara. Wait till I tell her father I got traps,” he laughed.

  ***

  “Do you know what you look like?” Seth laughed and ran for the camcorder to document his wife. “I swear, the angels sang when you were born, Lara. You look like Snow White.”