Oasis Escape - Chapter 05

Chapter 05: Alone You do not Walk

The ends of the tall grasses shine with Bitú’s divine light, while the stalks, so close together that even a tiny ant must find her way through, remain engulfed in darkness. These walls of undergrowth create mazes and narrow paths where deceitful beings hide. To avoid being caught off guard, she must look beyond the veil that covers her eyes. Just like inside the tunnels of the anthill, her senses of hearing and smell are her best friends.

Leaf by leaf, Relva moves forward, stretching her legs and clinging to the velvety surface with small pairs of curved claws. The antennae scan alongside her mandibles, vainly attempting to find the familiar texture of dry soil.

She had no idea that such plants grew so much larger than bugs and, yet, so much smaller than the trees and shrubs now entirely obscured by the green canopy.

The worker focuses on the scent of the grass, earthy and sweet, just like the day she chose her own name. Her sisters’ pheromones would be easier to detect if not for the blend of that smell with the termites' putrid, woody stench.

One foot steps on something wet. She brings her claws to her mouth and spits. Fresh hemolymph.

Sensitive hairs detect disturbances in the vegetation. Erratic movements of invisible creatures, overlapping with every rustle. The shrill screech of an ant in pain cuts through the air.

Relva tries getting closer, but something digging into one of her hind legs prevents it. Immediately, the feeling of serrated jaws pressing against her exoskeleton spreads through her body, and she turns around, finally coming face to face with the enemy.

The insect is slightly smaller than an ant, light in color, and with a soft abdomen, as if a chubby larva grew legs and went out to cause trouble. The head, by contrast, is dark brown and rigid, completely devoid of eyes.

Another pull. Relva’s claws lose their grip, and she falls upside down, her thorax slamming hard against the stem. The termite is now directly above her, trying to sever the ligaments of her immobilized leg.

However, this detritivore’s bite is not sharp enough. That gives the ant plenty of time to raise her empty limbs and kick, forcing it to retreat. Once free, she lunges upward, fully opening her mandibles and striking the poor pale creature in the face, showing it what a real bite feels like.

The impact knocks the termite sideways. It falls on its back into a crevice between the tangled grass roots. After temporarily incapacitating her opponent, Relva keeps searching for the other ants, leaving before the termite climbs back.

All she can taste is wood. Her mandibles cut into another insect for the first time, instead of leaves. Just as they might have done if her encounter with that savage had taken another turn. A taste that lingers in the mouth, no matter how hard she tries to ignore it.

If only this was not the only way to protect the anthill. And if only the horrors of a battle between colonies could end so quickly.

Finally, Relva spots one of the soldiers. A small, agile ant that could be mistaken for a worker with ease. Her bites are deadly accurate. The enemy insect tries to keep up with her fast pace, but every time it turns around to retaliate, the soldier is already on the opposite side, incessantly biting its feet until it collapses.

Exhausted, the termite trips over its own legs. A perfect opportunity. The ant climbs on it and clings to its abdomen like a tick, preparing to deliver the final blow.

But someone else besides Relva is watching them fight.

From the top of a wildflower stubbornly growing among the tall grass, emerges an insect resembling the ones attacking them. However, while smaller in overall size, its head is much larger, featuring a long, spear-like structure, like the sharpened beak of a winged beast.

Knowing that something bad is about to happen, but with no time to prevent the attack, Relva alerts:

“Watch out! Up there!”

No jaws, no claws. The termite soldier enters the battlefield with a shot.

A viscous liquid gushes from that structure on its head, barely missing the ant. She quickly answers to Relva's call, getting away just as the fallen termite is struck. Like in a spider web, it is now paralyzed. But unlike silk, this fluid is thicker. The more the victim struggles to free itself, the more it sticks to the exoskeleton segments, seeping into every crack and joint.

Before a second shot is reloaded, the two sisters gather together. The soldier pushes Relva downward and urges her to stay as close to the ground as possible until they find a safe place. Such refuge comes in the shape of a flat, slightly sloped rock, providing a small patch of loose soil where they both squeeze in to catch their breath.

They exchange looks and antenna strokes. The worker finds it strange that a soldier would look so much like her. Some spikes on her back are broken and cracked, but their size, along with her strong, darkened mandibles, are proof that, yes, she is a soldier. And a very skilled one in combat, at that.

With all six legs intact, she must be Casca, Relva concludes.

“What’s a harvester like you doing here alone? How did you get through Pena and Brisa?”

Casca asks, still rubbing her antennae against Relva’s body. She knows for sure that the soldier can smell the nursery. Every piece of her screams that she is an inexperienced youngster with zero reasons to be here. The worker struggles to find the right words, unable to admit the truth but with no excuses to explain herself either.

“I… I—”

“Never mind, we’ll deal with it later,” Casca peeks out from under the rock, legs tensed and feet pressed tightly against the ground, eager to detect even the slightest vibration. But the field remains strangely quiet. “You know where they are, that’s what matters, right?”

“I do.”

Good, we need their help as quick as possible, go get them!”, Her jaws click rapidly. Relva needs some time to understand everything, long enough for the soldier to headbutt her. “Hurry, go get them!”

“I-I’m going!”

“No, wait!”

Relva barely leaves the hideout before the older ant steps in front of her, blocking the way. Casca breathes heavily, constantly looking around, as if expecting something to jump from the shadows at any given moment. Which is, in fact, a valid concern.

“Damn it, that’s risky, but I’m better at it than you. I go.”

“You? But—”

“I’m faster, plain and simple! Listen, go find Hera. She might need your help. I’ll be right back!”

“But, Casca…”

“Now!”

“Casca!”

Calling her is pointless. Faster than a starving fly, Casca vanishes into the underbrush, leaving Relva standing alone beneath that rock partially bathed by Bitú. With some hesitation, she walks to the opposite direction, raising her face to the sky in a silent prayer, begging the Night Father and the fireflies to grant her strength and guide her steps.

Maybe they had truly heard her. Because soon enough, Relva finds Hera, holding on with her five legs to a thin, delicate blade of grass, arching under the weight of both her and the hostile insects. The ant tries to keep herself as close as possible, giving no room for a shot. Her large mandibles dig into the termite soldier's thorax, as one of the workers uses the little strength in its front legs to move her away.

Hera is a large, tough veteran, but little by little, she and the termite slide together toward the edge of the leaf. Its ally just needs a few more pulls until she gets tired and they can escape.

One after the other, and her violent embrace begins to loosen. Relva climbs up to them, the slender stem shaking to the rhythm of hurried footsteps. Her mandibles pierce directly into the enemy’s vulnerable abdomen, so different from the armored exoskeleton she and her sisters carry. 

Softer than it should be.

Hemolymph gushes from the wound. The worker recoils immediately, vital fluid running down her face and obscuring part of her view. She spits repeatedly, rubbing her head with the forelimbs. The termite lets go of Hera with a deep, anguished cry.

With all her might, the ant charges forward, knocking her and the soldier down among the stalks. In a final act of pure, primal desperation, it fires from the fontanellar gun on its head.

The projectile shoots past Hera, but strikes Relva right on the left hind foot. Startled, the harvester desperately pulls and struggles, stretching and flexing every leg muscle and ligament to free herself from that nasty goo.

She raises her gaze from the sticky prison to the termite worker. Just a few antennae away, trying in vain to control the bleeding from the two large cuts on the side of its abdomen. Shaking. Fighting to stay conscious and coordinated.

Two bugs brought together by misfortune. The ant, victim of her own curiosity and stubbornness, can hardly complain of this fate. But in what circumstances would these workers end up here, side by side with soldiers, so close to the anthill? They are invaders, she should not regret protecting one of her sisters. And yet…

“Are you going to be alri—?”

The termite jumps over her. Despite its injuries. Despite its fatigue. It still fights. Relva falls back, her body hanging by her feet. The enemy scratches and bites with reckless violence. The sound of ripping and tearing echoes through them. Relva tries to use her remaining limbs to push away, but its claws grasp tightly. One of her antennae is grabbed, the harvester slams her head against the termite's in retaliation. Gurgling and wheezing rise from its throat.

“Stop! You’re going to split in half if you carry on!”

The termite never answers. Even when dazed, it swings its sturdy head forward, clenching the mandibles together and nearly stabbing the ant in the eyes.

Relva can feel the sides of her face being hit every time she dodges. It hurts. Messes with her senses. Makes her angry. No matter how hard she begs for this meaningless madness to end, no matter what she does, the other insect refuses to listen.

“ENOUGH!”, she does not want to. She needs to. It is either the termite or her. It cannot be her. It will not.

Leafcutter ants are notorious for their impressive capabilities, despite being so small. They are able to carry several times their own body weight effortlessly. And they can apply that same strength to their powerful jaws, hardened with heavy metals.

Relva is utterly convinced that hers, in particular, have not been made for what she is forcing them to do. She really just wanted to be cutting leaves right now.

One bite. This is all that it takes.

The termite’s head detaches from its body with the same natural ease of a ripe fruit dropping from a tree branch, and disappears into the shadows below with the same wet thud.

<< Previous  | Master Post   | Next  >>

Hey, I’m not dead (yet)! The same can’t be said for that termite… But, well, stuff happens. Really, a lot of stuff happened in the last few months. I finished my second college degree, made plans to buy my first car, took a few weeks off from work, and accomplished other major personal and professional projects that ended up keeping me away from Oasis for a while. As punishment for my negligence, Relva now has war trauma.