Samantha Honeycomb

by Scott Zarcinas

  It didn’t rain, but it blew and blew and blew. Though they’d been expecting it for some while, it struck so fast that Samantha and Lizzie were taken by surprise. Dust and leaves blew past them, even the large playing card they’d seen earlier. It tumbled end over end, almost hitting Samantha before the wind picked it up and flung it over the tops of the sunflowers and out of sight. Samantha and Lizzie, themselves, were almost blown off their feet.

  “We need shelter!” Lizzie yelled. Though close by, her voice was almost lost in the gale.

  Suddenly, the wind uprooted a sunflower not too far from them. It was almost picked up and flung in the direction of the Queen of Hearts. Instead, it wobbled and crashed into the earth, its head snapping clean off.

  Samantha had an idea. She shouted for Lizzie to follow. Bracing against the wind, she scampered to the stem and clung desperately to it with all her strength. Lizzie, however, was struggling to make it over. She stretched out her claw for Samantha to take. Samantha snatched at it, but a huge gust of wind picked Lizzie up off her feet and blew her backwards. Fear flashed in her wide eyes. Then she instinctively curled herself into a ball and was sent tumbling out of sight.

  “Lizzie!” Samantha screamed.

  There was no answer.

  The wind blew even stronger, rushing past like a stampeding herd. Samantha screamed again for Lizzie. The sound of her voice was immediately trampled, and once again there was no answer from her friend. Samantha knew that she had two choices: stay clinging to the sunflower stem and lose her friend forever, or let go and let the wind take her where it had taken Lizzie.

  It took less than a second to decide. The instant Samantha released her grip on the stem, the wind plucked her off the ground and tossed her into the air. She yelped in fright, flying backwards, tumbling head over stinger, over and over for quite some time. Then abruptly, she thudded into something hard, something that felt much harder than the stem of a sunflower. The air was forced out of her and the spine of her good wing snapped like the other had done. The pain was intense, and with no breath to cry out she slumped to the ground, enveloped in blackness.

  She knew not how long she lay unconscious. It could have been hours, or even days, and when she stirred the air was deathly still, not even the slightest breath of breeze. Oddly, the light was very bright. She heard some footsteps and whispers nearby, then a shadow fell across her line of sight. To her horror, she caught a whiff of musk.

  She tried to call out for Lizzie, but her voice was choked with fear. The shadow loomed large and the musk wafted stronger.

  Then she blacked out again.

  PART TWO

  IT WASN’T THE pain of her broken wings that roused Samantha from her semi-coma, but the singing. It echoed into the bright white chamber in which she found herself like an army platoon chanting the same song over and over as they marched down a tunnel.

  This is my needle!

  This is my thread!

  This is the work that earns our bread!

  Left, right, left, right.

  One for the sunshine!

  One for the snow!

  This is the way we patch and sew!

  Left, right, left, right.

  With discomfort, Samantha propped herself into a sitting position upon the bed she was lying. She suddenly heard a familiar and welcome voice.

  “Samantha! I thought you were never going to wake up. You’ve been out for almost a day.”

  Lizzie was on an adjacent bed with some of her legs wrapped in bandages. She got up and hobbled over to sit next to Samantha. “I’ve dislocated three legs and I’m a bit battered and bruised. And I see they’ve also put your wings in plaster.”

  Still slowly coming around, Samantha surveyed her new surroundings. The whitewashed room was as small as the cell in Hive Prison. Though where that room had been smelly and cold, this one was positively sterile. It even smelled of disinfectant. There were sheets on the bed, too, crisp and heavy with starch. At the end of the bed was what appeared to be a neatly folded pair of denim overalls, something that seemed completely out of place.

  “Do you remember what happened?” she asked Lizzie.

  “Not much, only that we’re extremely fortunate those ants were there to save us. We survived a terrible disaster.”

  Lizzie then related what she could recall. Lizzie had been blown into a camp of army ants many, many miles downwind. At first she’d been frightened, but the ants had taken care of her in the makeshift hospital. Though she was well nursed, she fretted over Samantha, thinking she’d never see her again, or worse, that she’d been killed in the storm. Thankfully, later that night, several ants brought Samantha to the hospital. They’d found her slumped at the base of a pine tree, not too far from the campsite. She was unconscious, but at least she was alive. The next morning, the ants carried Samantha and Lizzie on their backs to where they were now, in an ant hospital, underground. The doctors set Samantha’s broken wings in plaster and said that they would be returning to check on her progress.

  So they were underground, Samantha mused. That’s why there were no windows. “I guess we should thank them for their hospitality,” she said, trying to look at her plastered wings.

  “There’s no need for that,” someone said, her voice cheery and melodic. “It’s always a pleasure to treat strangers.”

  Samantha turned to see who’d spoken. An ant in a pair of denim overalls stood at the door with a stethoscope around her neck. Around her waist was a belt, on which were numerous small bottles filled with coloured liquid – orange, crimson, purple, green – more colours than the rainbow, in fact. The ant introduced herself as Dr. 1754325Z. She then removed one of the bottles from her belt and sprayed a fine mist into the air. The perfume was like roses. Rather proudly, she showed Samantha and Lizzie the bottle. It was personally engraved with her name.

  Wincing in discomfort, Samantha stood to greet her. Bemusedly, Dr. 1754325Z bent slightly forward and rubbed Samantha’s antennae with her own, a customary greeting, the doctor explained, along with spraying something nice and welcoming. “I am already acquainted with your companion, Lizzie McCoon,” she said, attaching the bottled perfume back to her belt. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

  Samantha thanked the doctor. She was still a bit under the weather and her wings still ached, but she was pleased to add that she was getting better with each moment that passed. She was confident that it wouldn’t be long before she and Lizzie would be fit enough to embark on their travels once again. Curiously, she then saw Lizzie and the doctor share brief, but awkward glances.

  “I’ve spoken with our glorious leader, the magnificent Procruste Ant,” the doctor said, “and he’s asked me to extend our fullest hospitality and spare you no courtesy.”

  Samantha stared at the ant, momentarily taken aback. The leader’s name was the same as the tags on the overalls she had been forced to mend during her imprisonment.

  “We have arranged some temporary accommodation for you in sector AX-49,” the doctor continued. “You are most welcome to join us in the Procruste Ant Incorporated Great Hall for dinner tonight. You have arrived at a very special time. Tonight is the last and biggest celebration of the Silly Season, when we celebrate our glorious leader’s birthday. I am sure you must be very hungry after your ordeal, if nothing else.”

  Samantha looked over her plastered wings at Lizzie, who just shrugged. “Why not?” Samantha said to the doctor. “It’s the least we can do to show our appreciation.”

  Pleased with what she’d heard, the doctor then instructed Lizzie and Samantha on the formalities of the dinner. Eveningwear was essential, and they could find a pair of overalls on the end of their beds. “We like to think of ourselves as an evolved species,” she said. “We’re not like all the other bugs in the insect world, you know. We’re vastly superior. We have an advanced technological society. That’s why we wear clothes.”

  Though they had been expertly tailored to fit the contours of their differing anatomies,
the overalls were difficult to get into. Lizzie, at first, put hers on back to front and tripped when one of her legs got stuck. Samantha went over to help, glancing at the label while she did: PRODUCT OF PROCRUSTE ANT INC. There was a gap where the ONE SIZE FITS ALL had been neatly spliced out. “They obviously didn’t expect bees or caterpillars for company,” she said to herself. Her own pair felt awkward, especially with her broken wings. Never having worn clothes before, let alone overalls, the material felt scratchy and heavy, but once the initial discomfort passed, they were surprisingly easy to wear.

  Once suitably dressed, Samantha and Lizzie were ushered to their new chambers in sector AX-49. To Samantha’s surprise, two army guards with long, pointed spears accompanied them and Dr. 1754325Z. Just a routine precaution they took with foreigners, the doctor explained. Samantha thought their behaviour a trifle overprotective; it felt too much like the royal guards escorting her to the courthouse. Lizzie, she also noticed, walked with her eyes to the ground, avoiding her gaze, and softly counted her steps.

  They were led down many twisting corridors, left, right, up, down, all brightly lit by shimmering tubes on the ceiling (like stretched out glow worms, she reckoned) and smelling of disinfectant. On the walls were numerous portraits of an aging ant in a white coat and golden overalls. Wild strands of grey hair sprouted from the side of his balding, black head, and beneath his bulbous red nose was a proud, bushy, grey moustache. Around his neck was a red and gold bowtie, shaped like a daisy. Samantha wearily joked to Lizzie that the tie would most likely squirt water in her face if she stepped too close.

  “That’s our magnificent leader, the splendiferous Procruste Ant,” the doctor said, as Samantha stared at one of the more garish images along the corridor. “Isn’t he just wonderful?”

  As they went, the soldierly chanting continued, echoing off the whitewashed walls:

  We are the ants that mend your pants!

  Left, right, left, right.

  We never say never,

  And we never say can’t!

  Left, right, left, right!

  Whether we sleep,

  Or whether we fight,

  We sew all day and we sew all night!

  Along they marched, seemingly in step with the rhythm of the songs, and eventually into their new lodgings. “We have just walked one thousand, six hundred and seventy-one steps in this underground maze,” Lizzie said. “I’m not sure I could walk much further with my legs the way they are.”

  “That’s the difference between caterpillars and ants,” Dr. 1754325Z said. “We’re vastly superior.”

  She then instructed her guests to be ready at 1900 hours for dinner. Procruste Ant simply did not tolerate tardiness. She farewelled, briefly rubbing Lizzie and Samantha’s antennae and spraying a rather pleasant perfume in the air, a mix of lavender and rosemary. When the doctor closed the door, Samantha heard a key turning in the lock, once again reminded of her time in Hive Prison.

  “I’m exhausted,” Lizzie said, scratching her face. “And I also have a funny craving for asparagus.”

  Samantha watched her hobble to one of the beds and flop down onto it. The room was identical to the one they had just left, except for one small detail. In the far corner, opposite the two beds, stood a wooden contraption. It had a large wheel and arms and things, even an inbuilt stool. She tried to guess its function, then looked back at the door.

  “Is it me, or do you also get the feeling we’re being held prisoner?” she asked. Lizzie averted her eyes, suddenly quiet. “Why do we need guards? Why have they locked the door? It’s not exactly the sort of hospitality I’d bestow on my guests.”

  “I think ants are a little more cautious than bees,” Lizzie said. “Perhaps they have to know you better before they let you wander through their nest.”

  Samantha let her remark pass, but there was something odd with the look in her eyes that suggested Lizzie knew more than she was letting on.

  SAMANTHA AND LIZZIE were woken from their siesta by the jingle of keys in the lock at precisely 1900 hours. Flanked by two guards, they were marched down many twisting corridors, then finally through an imposing arched doorway and into the Procruste Ant Incorporated Great Hall. Samantha’s antennae went rigid with amazement.

  The hall was a spacious chamber filled with rows and rows of benches and tables set for a banquet. Seated at the tables were innumerable ants, all dressed in neatly pressed overalls and murmuring polite greetings to one another, rubbing antennae and spraying perfume. An ornate ceiling domed the hall, and suspended from its central beam was an extravagant chandelier. Encircling the Procruste Ant Inc. Great Hall, guards with pointed spears stood shoulder to shoulder against the walls, which were covered with red and gold drapes of the finest silk. Samantha had only seen such lavishness in the cathedral of the High Priestess Bee.

  Furthermore, on a raised dais at the back of the hall stood a single table, larger and more imposing than the rest, made from a rich dark timber. Behind it were five empty chairs, the central one an elaborate, gilded throne. Four guards in black armour at the back of the dais stood motionless in front of an enormous portrait of the magnificent Procruste Ant that almost touched the dome ceiling. To one side of it stood a pine tree (it must have been a branch), decorated in strips of red and gold tinsel. A golden star topped the tree, and around its base was a neat stack of presents.

  “We have a very similar celebration in the hive,” Samantha whispered to Lizzie. “We call it the Great Mother Day and we give presents to each other as a symbol of the Great Mother’s gift of life to us.”

  Samantha and Lizzie were ushered to the far side of the hall, where they were shown to two vacant places at the head of a table. Samantha and Lizzie self-consciously sat down, aware that all eyes in the room were upon them. The guards that had escorted them then left to stand sentry at the entrance. Sitting next to Samantha was Dr. 1754325Z. She nodded and smiled welcomingly, spraying some rose scented perfume in the air. She leaned forward to rub their antennae.

  “The ceremony’s about to begin,” the doctor said, whispering. “It’s so exciting!”

  Caught up in the moment, Samantha also told the doctor about the celebration of the Great Mother Day in the hive. Dr. 1754325Z’s antennae suddenly went stiff and her black skin turned horridly grey. She glanced from side to side, looking at the guards lining the walls. “Samantha, shh!” she said, barely audible. “It’s forbidden to mention the Great Mother. If any of the guards hear you speaking Her name, you’ll be sentenced to death. Please, say no more.”

  The doctor then sat back and was silent. The minutes passed, and Samantha and Lizzie looked awkwardly around the hall, unsure how to behave. Thick silence of anticipation floated around the chamber like pollen in spring. Suddenly, trumpets blared from a dozen guards flanking the dais. Four beautiful female ants dressed in golden overalls, their shoulders draped in red silk shawls, walked onto the dais from the far side and sat on either side of the throne at the royal table.

  Palpable expectation spread around the hall, building in strength with every passing second. Dr. 1754325Z and the others at the table trembled with excitement, as did every other ant that Samantha could see. No one spoke a word. No one sprayed perfume. The tension seemed to press against the very walls and ceiling.

  Then the trumpets blared again. Onto the dais walked Procruste Ant to thunderous cheers and delirious screaming. Feet stamped on the floorboards. Mugs banged onto the tabletops. Clenched claws pumped toward the ceiling. The whole room was shaking.

  “PROCRUSTE! PROCRUSTE! PROCRUSTE!” the ants chanted.

  Every ant began spraying perfume into the air. It was like a heavy mist, scented with a hundred different aromas, rose, lavender, vanilla, rosemary, coconut, and many more. Halfway down the table, an ant fainted and slumped to the floor. Procruste nodded to two security guards, who rushed over and carried her away. The noise was deafening.

  “PROCRUSTE! PROCRUSTE! PROCRUSTE!”

  He stood at the fro
nt of the dais dressed in a white coat and golden overalls with a daisy-bowtie. Just like his portraits, he had a bulbous red orb for a nose, a bushy moustache and a wild tangle of grey hair at the side of his balding scalp. And there was another oddity Samantha noticed: his shoes were bright red and at least three times too big.

  “Isn’t he marvellous?” the doctor shouted.

  For several minutes Procruste Ant held his arms outstretched, absorbing the praise. Unabated, the crowd continued to chant and stamp and punch the air. “PROCRUSTE! PROCRUSTE! PROCRUSTE!”

  Then, just as Samantha thought the hall would collapse around her wings, Procruste gestured for silence. Immediately, the din stopped and the Great Hall was once again a theatre of expectant silence. He let the crowd wait a few more moments before speaking. Finally, like thunder, his voice boomed through the chamber.

  “E=MC2!”

  The ants roared and punched the air, spraying lots of perfume.

  Then the splendiferous leader gestured for calm again, waiting for complete silence. It took quite some time. “For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction!” he said.

  The ants squealed and chanted his name with delight. The mist of perfume was now a fragrant cloud. Another ant fainted to Samantha’s left, again efficiently whisked away by the security guards.

  Procruste Ant held his clenched claw above his head, waiting again for silence. “A body in motion continues in a straight line unless acted upon by a force!”

  The crowd was now in a frenzy of ecstasy. An ant tried to throw himself on the dais at Procruste’s large feet, but he was caught and escorted out of the hall before anyone knew what had happened. (Samantha later learned that he was sentenced without trial to the salt mines for life.) Procruste glared across the hall, his claw still raised, and his voice boomed out: “Science is God!”