Hive

by J. K. Accinni

  “I can use a hand here. Mrs. Diaz? And how about you, Gloria? Crystal? You can leave your sweet pig by the fire with Echo and the dogs. She will be fine.”

  Breakfast became a celebration as the women placed large earthen bowls of unidentifiable food on the three tables. Platters of colorful crunchy vegetables joined the unfamiliar bowls of spicy foods that tasted like magic if you could just figure how to capture it. Cold pitchers of icy clear water washed the hearty meal down parched throats. Netty offered tea and fresh fruit pie in a surprising buttery flavored green crust.

  As Chloe, Bonnie and Emma cleared the tables, Dezi, Karen, and one of Johno’s men helped Netty wash the dishes. A sense of wellbeing and languid comfort permeated the group.

  The only responsibilities anyone thought about was to feed the wildlife. Wil made sure the assorted dogs and pets were fed. Baby and Echo watched from a perch on the wall near the dogs, their arms stuck into the wall as if absorbed by the thick membrane. As Wil and Netty failed to comment, the group at the tables looked away, swallowing their discomfort. When Kenya decided to ask what the heck they were doing, Netty casually replied, “They are eating. The Womb provides for them.”

  “Oh, okay.” Kenya turned green as she gazed at the golden creatures.

  Turning back to the table they watched Jose rise. He cleared his throat, a hesitant smile managing to sprinkle reassurance around the tables.

  “Wil, Netty, we would all like to thank you for your hospitality.” Nods and murmurings from the group forced Jose to pause.

  “I speak for everyone when I tell you how overwhelmed we are to be here. I’m sure most of us will need a lot of time to adjust our thinking to our new surroundings. It’s not just about learning who our ancestors are, contrary to all we have been taught. It’s the loss of a way of life, our hometowns, our families and friends, our jobs. We need some time to mourn. I hope you understand that.”

  Wil and Netty sat on a bench near the fireplace, Baby curled at their feet with little Barney tucked in next to his tummy.

  “We understand completely. We went through something just like that many years ago. It will be difficult. It took me several years to stop mourning. But I had the help of someone who loves me.”

  She slipped her arm through Wil’s. “Many of you are without spouses and children. You were deliberately chosen because of that. The people sitting with you at these tables will become your family and your loved ones. You will build new relationships. You will study. You will prepare yourself for the time when the planet will ask for your help. You will surface when it is safe again.”

  “Can you give us any idea when that will be?” Karen, their copilot, spoke loudly over the din caused by Netty’s remarks.

  “Study? What do we need to study?”

  “I don’t need to study anything,” Billy said as his hand rose to his nose to squirt nasal relief into his nostrils, easing his asthma.

  Wil rose, approaching the tables. “Please, please, calm down, everyone. I have a suggestion. Let me lay out some of the responsibilities you will be faced with. It will give you something constructive to think about. Why don’t we plan to get a few months under our belts then reassess how you are doing? I think for now we will continue to use Netty’s kitchen, postponing the plans for your own. Sound good?”

  As the group gave tentative nods, Wil continued, “As I mentioned yesterday, we need teams to feed the wildlife, perform sanitation duty and enrichment detail. This is serious work. The Womb will not tolerate irresponsibility. You must all remember—the wildlife comes first. They are sacred.

  “Netty needs help in the kitchen. She is looking for four assistants who will make the assignment their permanent job.”

  Dezi shot his hand up in the air, interrupting and getting shushed by Abby. “Are you volunteering, Dezi?” Wil raised an eyebrow.

  “Damn straight, anything to get me away from those dumb, smelly beasts.”

  “I wouldn’t say that too loudly if I were you, young man.” Wil’s voice cut deeply through the din, instantly sobering the crowd. “As a matter of fact, you are precisely the kind of human who needs to learn tolerance. I do not believe the kitchen is suited to you any more than caring for the wildlife is. But you must learn. Be grateful for the chance.

  Turning his attention to Johno and his men, Wil addressed them, “I realize your job with the baby elephants is labor intensive. I am hoping you will consider taking on some helpers to spell you from time to time. It will be very helpful if you can impart some of your wisdom to the rest of us.”

  Johno nodded, bowing his head respectfully.

  “I need three or four of you to work in the fields with me. It will be your responsibility to cultivate new plants that the Womb wants us to grow as they are presented. It is also your job to tend to seed retrieval and storage, along with selecting the produce Netty and her crew will need for meals and for canning.

  “I need three men to work on a new project. Jose, I am putting you in charge. I will give you the keys to the supply closet and we will tour it later. You and the three men will also take charge of a daunting task. I need our new library cleaned and organized. Anyone who is not working in the kitchen or the fields will lend extra hands as needed. That means those who feed the wildlife will have to take a turn helping to clean the library. These sound like simple chores but I assure you they are not.”

  As Wil continued to outline responsibilities, Scotty, Chloe, Kane and Kenya put their heads together, quietly conferring as to where they hoped to be placed. Scotty took the lead. “Guys, I don’t know about you, but I want to work where the food grows. Did you see that place? It feels like magic. The monkeys and elephants will hang out there. It will be a great place for the dogs. Chloe, you need to be careful with Ted. He’s so small, there may be dangerous areas for him in other places. The growing fields are bound to be safer.” Looking up at Echo as the others considered his plan, he caught her eye as she languished with the dogs by the fireplace.

  Auras whispered, seeping into his mind. “I am happy, Brother Scotty. My Barney is small and new. My mission is no more. My family grows. We can now plan for new life. That is our destiny. My brother Baby asks me small questions. He is damaged but can still function. He is productive in the field. We will join you.” Scotty’s head reeled from the breath of Echo’s provocative comments.

  “New life, Echo? Is someone planning to make babies?”

  “No brother. There will be no babies.”

  Echo fell silent, turning back to her posse of Baby, little Barney, the pit bulls King and Queenie, Penny and Teddy, Mimi and the two new additions: Fire the shepherd and Honda, the poodle. Scotty looked up to see Wil join Netty at their small table, leaving them to sort out who would do what.

  Chapter 18

  Ginger Mae hiked up her pants that had slipped down over her hips for the tenth time that morning. As she sliced into a three-pound apple for the pie Salina Diaz was making the green dough for, she wondered if she had finally managed to shed the five or six (okay . . . ten) extra pounds she had fought to lose before she found herself living in the great cavern of the Hive. She estimated a good six weeks had flown by since Abby had saved them. So much seemed to have changed in the short period of time.

  She glanced up as members of the Hive wandered into the kitchen to either confer with Abby and Netty or try to cop a preview of the goodies Netty and her crew of kitchen staff were preparing for dinner.

  Salina Diaz (she insisted everyone use her first name) quickly became a leader in the kitchen, her skills at organizing and overseeing for her own blended family in the past an asset that she put to good use. Netty’s kitchen became the hub of the Hive. A warm and inviting sanctuary where all could pretend life was normal. It was where the survivors did their planning, their voting, their disciplining, their questioning, socializing (flirting) and of course, their gorging.

  And gorge they did. Apparently the new and delectable foods they
ate contained less garbage calories than the food processed and sold to them in the grocery stores above. Ginger Mae didn’t know how that could be but as she eyed her fellow group members, she noticed many of them looked slimmer. Especially Gloria, who had confided she was diabetic. Clyde, who walked around like he had a load in his saggy pants, matching his saggy spirit and Billy, the red-headed reluctant trucker, who now thanked his scrawny balls (incessantly to anyone who would listen) that he chose this gig to fill in for a friend.

  Gloria had a few days’ supply of insulin with her when they arrived at the Hive. When the women saw her inject herself in their sleeping quarters, they wondered what would happen if Gloria went into a diabetic coma or got sick. Would Netty provide medical care? Would the phantom Womb assist or even care? So far, though, Gloria appeared to be fine and had dropped quite a bit of weight.

  By the end of the second week, everyone had reluctantly swallowed the fact that they were here for the long haul.

  How long? No one wanted to put a voice to that question after evaluating Wil’s shocking revelation given upon their arrival. There were only so many traumas and upheavals a person’s system could take. Everyone feared another shock might drive someone over the edge, someone like Clyde.

  As week after week passed, the likelihood of Clyde’s wife and grandchildren joining them looked more and more remote. He refused to give up though. Ginger Mae didn’t fail to notice how Salina Diaz took pains to make sure Clyde got a little extra helping of anything he appeared to favor at meal time. Even so, his weight continued to slip away.

  Putting down her knife, she finished peeling the fruit for Salina’s pies. Searching for her tattered handbag, she took a break at the small oak table favored by Netty and Wil at meals. As she fished in her bag for her mirror, she felt the little black and white dog they called Mimi scratching at her leg for attention. She knelt down to gather the love-hungry girl in her arms, noticing the cloud of cataracts on her eyes was missing.

  Mimi had failed to join Scotty and his young gang with the rest of the dogs in the field. She was older with short legs and almost blind. Besides, she was turning into the original chow hound. Wherever the food was, you could find Mimi. So Netty’s kitchen became her new home. Lots of food . . . lots of love.

  As Ginger Mae gave her a kiss on the head and set her back down on the floor, she felt a kinship with the damaged dog. Glancing around to see who might be watching her, she turned to the wall to take her mirror out and examine her face. Looking critically at her scar and the distortion of her lip that had been so poorly stitched, she tried not to flinch at the ruin of her face. She still couldn’t get used to the unfamiliar countenance that looked back at her. A lonely tear traveled forlornly down her damaged cheek as she remembered how she used to fret about losing her looks—the kiss of death for an aging working girl.

  So much had changed. Their lives had been turned upside down in such a profound way that she had become the mute one while Daisy flourished and blossomed. Daisy’s intellect quickly became apparent to all as she followed Jose and Abby around like a sponge, soaking up knowledge wherever she could.

  Jose currently had her working on a special project in what they called the library. Ginger Mae wondered when they would be able to unveil their project, as she was more than curious why Daisy always came back early with Jose and his men for dinner; filthy dirty, covered in thick grime and dust.

  She looked up as Dezi walked by, giving her hair a playful tug as he carried a jug of water to the fireplace to fill the dog’s dishes.

  “Come on, babe, put a smile on that pretty mug of yours.”

  And she did. He always made her smile. Some people rolled their eyes at Dezi but, over time, Ginger Mae realized he was just like her. The only difference was his damage was on the inside. His base, sassy bluster and sexual innuendoes were a transparent cover, his way of dealing with his damage. She knew he would tell her his story someday. They were becoming close friends as he was the first one who didn’t treat her like a toxic victim. He saw who she was beyond the notorious skirmish with the dead Armoni.

  She had learned a few things about life while she plied her trade in the exclusive hotels and apartments of New York City. Every once in a while she would get a request from what she referred to as an unfortunate. It might be a man with an extreme illness or a disfiguring disability. Some of them were born that way. Many found they would never have an easy time with the ladies so they turned to a professional rather than risk rejection.

  These were her personal VIPs, the ones she saved her honest tenderness for, the ones who were privileged to glimpse the real Ginger Mae Shrute.

  She glanced back at Dezi as he conferred with Salina Diaz regarding the produce she wanted him to collect from the growing field. You couldn’t tell for sure from the outside but Ginger Mae knew . . . Dezi was an unfortunate.

  Ginger Mae spotted Karen entering the kitchen. She spent most of her time working on the project at the library. She stopped in the kitchen each day to pick up lunch for the crew who seemed to get inordinately filthy for a bunch of people organizing books.

  Smiling to herself, Ginger Mae noticed that Karen, like herself, was not a true blonde. Her roots were growing in. Well, her own were probably just as bad.

  Holding up her mirror, she checked them out. Oddly, her hair appeared to be growing in darker than normal, not a single sign of the creeping grey strands that seemed to have multiplied every time she was due for a touch up.

  Shrugging her shoulders, she let the mirror slip back down to her ruined mouth. As she took a final peek, she did a double take. Her finger reached up to her mouth to slide over the worm-like puckered raised scar that ran the length of her face. How can that be? The scar felt smooth, the puckering gone. She peered closely at the scar, verifying the new smooth texture.

  Something else caught her eye, another subtle change. For several years she had noticed a fine network of lines developing around her eyes. Nothing serious, just enough to force her to stay out of direct sunlight with her johns, just enough to annoy her. She had been forced to cut back on her expensive Botox shots to save money for Daisy’s future, but the tell-tale lines had now disappeared.

  Ginger Mae’s eyes darted around the room, anxious to know if she was being watched. Deciding to keep this to herself for now, she quickly slipped the mirror back into her purse. Salina Diaz approached from her wooden workbench, a box laden with lunch for the field workers in her arms.

  “Ginger Mae, would you care to take this to the kids in the field?” She placed her hand on Ginger Mae’s shoulder, her tenderness a constant in Ginger Mae’s life. Nodding her assent, she gave Salina a lopsided smile of gratitude and headed out the kitchen with the box.

  Ginger Mae strolled along the cavern corridors that were becoming second nature to her. She no longer flinched at the sight of the mysterious live membrane that lined the walls. Just weird and ugly interior design in a very strange home she was now grateful to live in.

  Approaching the opening to the water cavern housing the big cats, she slowed, listening for the chuffing of bears at play. She wondered what had possessed the bears to take up residence with the cats. Their cavern luckily contained a lovely underground lake that allowed the cats and bears to claim their own play areas, but she didn’t remember any accounts of lions, bears and tigers getting along like this. She wrinkled her nose as the ursine and feline smells hit her. Funny how the smells no longer revolted her.

  Moving on, she shifted the box she carried to a more comfortable position. She still had a ways to go, winding around the serpentine corridors and dodging clumps of elephant dung that littered the corridors no matter how often they were cleaned.

  Turning another corner, she met up with Johno and his men. They were walking the baby elephants with the juveniles and young tusker on their daily foray to the growing fields.

  “How are you this fine day, Ms. Ginger Mae?” Johno’s grin split from ear to ear, h
is affable nature irresistible even to the sullen Ginger Mae.

  “I’m fine, Johno, you and the boys coming around for lunch?”

  “Yes, madam. You’ll never see us passing up a meal. Just need to drop the babies off in the field first.”

  Ginger Mae stretched her head down the corridor the group had just emerged from, getting bumped by two rambunctious babies in the process.

  “Where’s big Tobi? She’s not with you?”

  “No, I let Emma and Bonnie keep Tobi busy. I want to try to keep her away from the fields for a while. She’s been a little destructive lately. She keeps digging her tusks into the ground. It makes Scotty and his crew mad. She seems to be looking for something. Her trunk flings the dirt around like she’s angry. Wish I could figure it out.”

  “But Johno, you’ve known her all her life. Did you ever see her exhibit this behavior in Africa?”

  “No, madam, but after Tobi grew up enough to join the wild herds I only saw her when she came back for visits, usually at night during feeding time, of course. She loved to come back to say hello and see the new babies. Most of what she did during the day is a mystery to me, though. I assume just the normal things wild elephants do. Always on the move, looking for new browse and moving from waterhole to waterhole.”

  “Well, I hope she works through her problem soon, for everyone’s sake.”

  Gently swatting away the searching trunks of the sometimes demanding babies, Ginger Mae lifted her box higher. Within a few more feet, the group found themselves at the opening for the growing field. She held her breath as she stepped through, feeling the odd pressure that kept the small lavender-blue pollinating creatures from accidently escaping their cavern and their vital job.

  As she gazed out into the field that gradually rose up to the rear of the cavern, creating an artificially far horizon, she spotted Kenya lounging on a hillock, her pregnancy at its maturity, delivery just a few weeks off. Johno broke off to escort the babies to a safe spot near a row of strange fruit trees that appeared to have been planted within the last few years, young enough not to attract the deadly pollinators. Lugging her box to Kenya’s comfortable hillock, she collapsed next to her.