Beowulf's Children

A trio of little Joey skeletons greeted him. They were snugged between branch and bole, dead in their own nest.

"Definitely bee country," Cadma

They continued along, spotted several more abandoned bee nests and more caches of old skeletons. Often the bones lay as if carefully placed by some nitpicking archeologist. Bees didn't leave enough on the bones for it to be worth any scavenger's time to drag them away.

They reached a lower shelf, even thicker with trees and brush and grass. Then took another steep decline, and reached another shelf.

And more bones.

It was Cadma

"You noticed it too?" Chaka asked. I was wondering if that was just my own morbid imagination."

"No, it's not." Cadma

The terrain was looking more and more... well, picked over. No pterodons. No birdles. No Joeys. Nothing. The back of Cadma

"Look," Chaka said soberly.

Chaka pointed at a skeleton the size of a small deer, with short forelegs. It poked out of the ground. Chaka knelt and dug carefully with his knife, and unearthed the rest. Cadma

This creature had died digging into the ground. Its head still remained, and its shoulders, a sort of monkey-looking thing with sharp paws. The attempt to claw its way into the ground had failed. The mummy was hollowed out, its mouth still open, clotted with dirt. Its eyes were open. Staring into its own grave.

Chaka made a blowing sound and stood, wiping his hands on his pants. He walked in a widening spiral, and found two more skeletons, of similar creatures that hadn't been as successful at burrowing. "This is wrong," Chaka said. He walked to the ridge. Below them was another flattened area, and then a cliff. Distantly, they heard rushing water.

Cadma

"Wrong." Chaka ran down the slope, digging in his heels. He saw Aaron skid down after him. There was a tight, controlled expression on Aaron's face, one that Cadma

He scrambled down the next decline, using roots and rocks to steady and slow his descent. He watched, increasingly disturbed, as Chaka poked about. This was a lushly wooded area, girdled with bushes and trees and grass. There were signs that it had been lusher still, but some of the vegetation had been badly chewed.

Except for the distant mournful skaw of a pterodon, it was just too damned quiet.

They found bones. Bones of creatures mouse-sized, rabbit-sized, and one as big as a wolf.

Chaka pulled his belt knife and cut into the wolf-sized creature's rear leg bone. He poked around in the dark interior. "Until we've got a better word, we can call this stuff marrow. This is still moist. I think that all of this death happened within the last seventy-two hours."

Chaka pushed himself up and walked out to the edge of the cliff, looking out over the valley beneath. His face was deeply troubled.

"Weather's getting bad," he murmured, so low that Cadma

Aaron had heard. "True enough."

"Ordinarily, the bees build nests, raze an area for maybe a decade, and then move on. robably spawn a dozen queens each, or however they work it. But in times like this... "

"What?" Cadma

Chaka looked back at Aaron, standing only a few feet behind him, and he shrugged. "The plains will flood. A lot of the nests will drown—no, they won't. The bees will have water traps built into them, for sure. And as soon as the first water recedes, the bees will migrate. Massively. Some of them are starting to expand westward now. See? The animals up here never evolved to deal with bees this way. A few Joeys are one thing—we're talking about the eradication of square kilometers of wildlife. It's been two hours since we've seen a single living animal, gentlemen. Those rain clouds? Those are the begi

Probably this whole region belongs to them, every fifty years. Then the population pressure drives them back to the lowlands. But when the rains hit... "

Aaron's voice was very flat. "What?"

"The bees are spreading everywhere, breeding whole hordes of queens and seeding them on the wind. These are species that never evolved to deal with bees, because bees were never here. The grendels—I've figured that out. There are so many other animals breeding their hearts out that the grendels aren't eating any of their samlon, so they're all turning into grendels. Edgar's been raving about the weird weather. We've seen it. Those bees are getting ready for the winds to scatter them everywhere!"

Cadma

Little Chaka spoke very carefully. "I have to tell Father. Do you realize that we're going to have to evacuate the mainland? And I mean right now—"

Cadma

Chaka was closest to Aaron, and Aaron shot him first. The biologist had only begun to react when the bullet snapped his head back. Chaka's entire body straightened. He tumbled back over the cliff, the entire left half of his head a wet red ruin.

Cadma

He had aimed for the center of mass, and the center of mass for Aaron Tragon was covered by the rifle. Aaron flew back, hands splaying, hair flying out with the electrical shock. His mouth spread in a wide O as the dart released its charge. Aaron landed on his butt, three feet away. He shook himself like a big, sick dog.

Cadma

Five seconds would be too late.

Chaka's gun. Cadma

For a second they tugged at it, their faces only inches apart. Then Cadma

Aaron's hands were curled loosely, spread roughly shoulder distance apart. Ready to chop, or punch, or grasp. His right shoulder was leading, about thirty percent of his weight on the front foot.

Cadma

Cadma