Wasps!

The boy stumbled through the door of the pub. At first the patrons of the Stanley Arms didn’t notice the state of the dishevelled boy until he staggered towards the bar, reaching out with a grotesquely swollen hand. He lurched forwards, mouthing something the assembled onlookers couldn’t quite make out. He stumbled and fell face first onto the floor and lay still.

“What did he say?” said one of the bystanders.

“I think he said beers,” replied the barman.

One of the closest onlookers to the boy made to pick him up.

“Are you alright son? That was a pretty nasty fall you had….whoa…what the?”

He dropped the boy back down. It was quite obvious to everyone that he was dead. His face was swollen and out of proportion. Grotesque lumps of weeping flesh covered his face and neck. His hands were similarly deformed. The boys eyes were still open, a look of terror upon his face.

“Someone call an ambulance,” shouted the man who had tried to help the boy.

The barman ran to the phone at the end of the bar and dialled emergency services.

“Hello…. Yes….. I need an ambulance…I don’t know,” he paused to look at the body on the floor. “I think you need to see for yourselves.”

He replaced the receiver as the rapidly growing crowd stared in morbid fascination at what was left of the boy.

The next day the events in the Stanley Arms were the talk of the village. The ambulance had arrived on the scene within twenty minutes and taken the body away. Twelve hours later the pub was swamped with reporters wanting to know what had happened.

The village of Little Eppington had not scene this kind of activity since its founding in 1885. It was the typical English village. A central road running through the middle and a village green in the centre. This was surrounded by a crescent of houses on one side and a small church on the other. A short walk down the road, a pub, post office and small school and then farmland until the road rejoined the motorway some two miles further on.

It was 1:20pm the day after the incident. The lounge of the Stanley Arms would normally play host to about four customers at this time of the day but today both bar and lounge were filled with inquisitive reporters and angry villagers wanting to know what the hell was happening.

“I’ve told you everything I know,” shouted John, the landlord of the pub. “The kid came through that door, stumbled towards the bar, mumbled something and fell flat on his face.”

One of the reporters thrust his cassette recorder towards John. “There have been rumours that the victim was covered in weeping sores, is this true?”

“I have been asked by the police not to comment on the details of the victim’s appearance,” said John. “If you want the details then I suggest you take it up with them.”

Another reporter shoved his way to the front of the bar which John was standing behind. “Some people are saying that this could be linked to the recent increase in the wasp population and the heat wave the country has been experiencing. Do you have any comments on this?”

“No, I don’t believe wasps could be responsible for the state I saw that poor boy in.”

“So you are saying the rumours of the boy’s physical appearance are true?”

John suddenly turned and began ringing the last orders bell.

“Right, that’s it for today. I’m not answering any more questions from the press or anyone else. Everybody out. I’m closing early. If you want answers I would suggest taking it up with the police.”

When the last of the reporters had been reluctantly ejected from the building John swung the doors shut and bolted them.

“I can’t be doing with this everyday Mary. Whoever asks me one more question I swear I’m going to punch that man in the face.”

Mary was John’s wife. She stood about five foot two inches and had eaten more than here fair share of home cooked meals. The side effects of living in a pub well known for its good food and drink.

She came from behind the bar and sat herself down in one of the chairs by the fireplace. “I think its best we just keep the doors shut for a couple of days until this whole thing has died down. If it’s not reporters its locals sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong.”

John sat in the chair opposite here. “I think that’s the best course of action. Put the kettle on Mary, we’ll have a cup of tea and just enjoy the quiet for a while.”
Mary got up and went behind the bar to the pubs kitchen. John sat in his chair gazing at the fireplace, not noticing the large wasp which even now was crawling up his chair leg.

Robert Coleman owned the all the farmland around Little Eppington. The large farmhouse on the village road was where he and his wife had lived for the last twenty years. They had always been happy in the village and well liked in the community until his wife died in a car accident five years ago. This had plunged Robert into a depression which had lasted to this day.

The house itself was a square formation of long buildings with a small courtyard in the middle. Robert was leaning on the gate which formed the entrance to his house. Jack Cawley sat on the gate smoking a cigarette staring at the cowshed on the other side of the road.

“Did you hear about that kid who died in the Stanley the other day? There’s been a rumour going around that it was some kind of wasp sting that caused his body to swell up like that. I was there, it was pretty nasty” said Jack taking a long pull on his cigarette.

“I wouldn’t put too much faith in what the people around here say. Idle chatter among those who should know better if you ask me,” said Robert.

Jack finished his cigarette and flicked the butt into a nearby hedge. “Still, you have to admit there have been some bloody big wasps around this year. I reckon it’s this heat. I haven’t felt anything like this in my lifetime and they say it’s only going to get worse.”

Robert stood upright and made to head over to the cowshed. “Enough of wasps and bees lad, we have work to do and these cows won’t clean there own shit up after themselves will they.”

Jack jumped down off the gate and the pair of them headed over the narrow road into the field opposite.

“You make a start on the shovelling and I’ll go and bring the tractor round,” said Robert heading off round the corner.

Jack went into the cowshed. It was a large metal building with several separated enclosures where the cows would sleep indoors. He grabbed a shovel which was propped up against the wall and went into the first pen.

Jack had seen plenty of dead animals in his time on the farm. He had once found a cow that had fallen into the canal which ran along the far edge of the land. It had been in the water for a few days, its flesh was rotting and crows had begun to peck away at its eyes. He thought himself almost immune to dealing with almost all manner of unpleasant tasks but nothing could have prepared him for what confronted him as he opened the gate.

There were three cows all lying on their side. All of them had swollen up so much that they barely resembled cows at all. They were a heap of pink and yellow lumps and pustules. Their stomachs were grotesquely engorged and one of them had split open.

Jack turned his head and vomited into the fresh pile of straw beside him. The smell alone was enough to make him sick.

“Oh my god! What happened to these cows! Man, that’s disgusting…Rob…Rob get in here, you have to take a look at this!”

Robert came round the corner wiping his hands on his overalls. “What’s all the shouting for? I told you to get on with the shovelling.”

He stopped in his tracks when he saw the dead cows.

“Well I’ll be,” said Robert, seemingly unaffected by the sight in front of him. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. I’d better call the police. They’ll probably want to take a look at this."

A loud knocking brought Mary suddenly awake. She had gone for a nap shortly after the press had left the Stanley Arms and left John downstairs to enjoy the peace and quiet.

“Is there no peace any more in this village?” she mumbled as she grabbed her dressing gown and descended the stairs. She headed through the small bar which joined onto the lounge and unbolted the door.

A policeman stood in the doorway. He was holding a photograph.
“Good afternoon, I’m PC Carter,” he said, flashing his badge.
“Would it be possible to speak to Mr Terence?”

Mary eyed him suspiciously. “You’ve not been sent here by the papers have you? We’ve had enough of them to last a lifetime. They were here all morning. I’ve only just managed to get a bit of sleep until you came hammering on my door.”

“This won’t take long I assure you. We are investigating an incident up at the farm and we think you’re husband may be able to provide some details on the incident which happened here a few nights ago. We have reason to believe they may be linked.”

Mary reluctantly ushered him through the door and bolted it shut behind him. “Fine, fine, just don’t be all day. We’d like to enjoy the rest of the day without any more disturbance thank you.”

Mary showed them through into the lounge area. “I think he may be sleeping, he’s not as young as he was and I think the morning’s activity may have tired him out somewhat. Can I get you something to drink?”

“No thank you, I’m on duty. If I could just speak to Mr Terence that would be fine.”

“John…John, there’s a policeman here to see you.”

She walked over to where John was seated near the fire. His back facing them as she approached.

“John, wake up dear. This man would like to have a word with you.”

Johns head slumped to the side as she reached out to touch the chair. Constable Carter walked around to his front to try and wake him but what he saw was not a sleeping landlord.

Johns face was swollen and pink. His neck and hands were covered all over in weeping lumps. It was plain that he was dead.

“Oh…John….John!” wailed Mary as the sight of her husbands deformed body sank in.

Constable Carter covered Johns face with the blanket he had been using to cover his knees.

“I’m sorry for your loss Mrs Terence. I’ll call for someone to take the body away.

That night the people of Little Eppington slept soundly in their beds. They had no idea of the horror that would greet them with the dawn.

Robert awoke from his usual restless slumber. He had never slept well since his wife died and the incessant humming noise outside didn’t help.

He came downstairs into his spacious kitchen which overlooked the courtyard and poured himself a drink from the refrigerator. As he stood sipping his juice and thinking about the incident with the cows the day before; he glanced out of the window and dropped his glass on the floor which shattered into pieces.

“Well would you look at that,” he said as he pulled back the curtains to get a better look.

The whole courtyard was filled with wasps. Huge, angry looking wasps covered the floor and crawled over his van like a living carpet.

The phone rang, piercing the silence with its shrill tone. Robert, startled out of his wonderment, picked up the phone while still gawping out of the window.

“Hello?”

“Hey Rob, its Jack…. I don’t think I’ll be coming into work today. Erm…I don’t like wasps.”

“Yeah, yeah, me neither,” said Robert still not taking his eyes off the horrific scene. He hung up and continued to stare out of the window. His brain almost refusing to believe what his eyes were telling it.

Several hours later and the majority of the citizens of Little Eppington had awoke and been greeted with much the same image as Robert. The wasps did not cover the whole village but rather were gathered together in large swarms scattered around the place.

Most people had not tried to venture outdoors. Staying inside and sealing all the doors and windows seemed to be the most popular option. Of the few people that had attempted to leave their homes nothing remained. The wasps had immediately swarmed on them stinging them repeatedly thousands of times over their entire body. Filled with so much poison from the wasp venom their bodies became no more than a pile of weeping sores. In some cases the flesh itself was sloughing away from the bones.

Constable Carter had not been prepared for the sight that greeted him when he drove into the village. At first he saw only small swarms, unusual but nothing too alarming. It was not until he came across the village green that he stopped his car and stared in amazement.

There were huge swarms of wasps everywhere. They covered the Phone box in the middle of the green; the bench next to the phone box was almost invisible under their mass. Here and there entire houses were smothered in swarms. In the ones that weren’t; shocked and frightened faces could be seen peering out of windows.
Constable Carter took the scene in for several minutes not knowing how to react before reaching for his loudspeaker radio.

“This is police constable Carter. I would advise everyone to stay in their homes. Do not open any doors or windows and seal up any openings to the outside. These wasps appear to be deadly and we do not want any more casualties before we can deal with the situation.”

He replaced his radio handset and drove on through the village. Nowhere was as heavily beset by the swarms as the farm. They covered everything. The house itself was barely visible under the weight of angry wasps but they seemed to be most heavily focused around the hay barn which lay up a small dirt track beside the property.

Carter had known Robert for some time, since some of the local youths often managed to find ways to entertain themselves on Roberts property and he inevitably would have to sort it out. He took out his mobile phone and called Roberts number. He let it ring for several minutes and was just about to hang up when Robert answered.

“Hello?”

“Hello, this is PC Carter. Robert are you ok? Have any of the wasps gotten into your house?”

Robert sounded nervous, “No, none have managed to get in, I locked all my widows and doors but I don’t know what to do. They’re everywhere. I can’t get out of the house.”

“Don’t worry about getting out. It’s best to stay inside for now. Is there any way I can get inside without the wasps getting in with me?”

Robert paused for a few seconds, “Yes, I don’t think there are any wasps around the entrance to the cellar. There is a door leading down to it around the back of the building. It’s not connected to the house so you should be able to get down there without them getting to you. It should be open. I haven’t locked it in years.”

“Right, I’m making my way round there now,” Carter reversed his car down the road and sure enough he could see the door that Robert was talking about. It was a large metal trap door separate from the house itself; jutting up at an angle in a raised triangle of brick.

As Robert had said, there were no wasps around the entrance. Carter parked his car as close as possible to the door and jumped out. The enormous swarm which covered most of the house seemed to know he was there immediately. Their buzzing rose to an almighty crescendo as they tore themselves from the building and descended on the spot where PC Carter stood.

He pulled at the doors but they were stuck. Robert had not locked it in years probably because he hadn’t needed to. These doors were rusted solid.
He pulled as hard as his body would allow, using his foot for extra leverage. The wasps were almost on him. He could feel the terror rising in his stomach, up to his throat. He could taste it like copper.

Finally the doors gave way and he flung them open, almost falling headfirst down the stone steps before he managed to pull the doors shut just in time. Not seconds after the doors slammed shut, the sound of a million angry wasps hitting the steel doors echoed through the all consuming darkness of the cellar like an angry rainstorm.
As Carter was gathering himself from the onslaught, a light came on at the foot of the stairs bringing the cellar into sudden clarity. Robert stood at the bottom.

“Are you ok? They didn’t sting you did they?”

Carter brushed himself off and stood up. “No, they didn’t sting me but I only just closed those doors in time. You could have told me they were so rusty.”

Robert showed Carter up to the main house and sat him down in the sitting room. The wasps resumed their angry swarm over the building; the relentless buzzing seemed to reverberate through the whole house.

“Do you know anything about these swarms in the village? They seem to be most fierce around this area of your farm. If you know anything Robert you have to come clean, several people have died already and more will follow if this isn’t dealt with,” Carter shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he watched the wasps crawl over the windows.

Robert looked guiltily down into his cup of tea. “I didn’t want to say anything. I thought the incident with the boy was a one off or a fluke accident. He’d probably been poking around where he shouldn’t and disturbed the nest.”

Carter looked Robert straight in the eye, “What nest Robert? This is a serious matter and if you’ve been hiding these things you could even be charged with manslaughter if the boy’s family choose to press charges. There have also been several other deaths since then. The landlord of the Stanley Arms for one, and I saw several bodies as I drove through the village.”

Robert looked hurt and afraid, “Didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. They’ve never bothered anyone before.”

He stood up and strode over to the window, shutting the blinds, “I can’t watch them swarming all over the windows like that. It’s making me uncomfortable.”
Carter set his cup down and leaned forward in his chair, “Ok, tell me what you know of the wasps.”

“Well, it’s like this. The fields behind this farm have been sitting empty for years. This is only a small farm and since my wife died I’ve not had the motivation to use the extra space for anything. Anyway, one day I was approached by this corporation called Biochem Industries. They said they would pay me a substantial amount of money if I gave them permission to use my fields for testing.”

Robert paused, licking his lips nervously.

Carter broke the silence, “Testing for what?”

“They said they were testing this new kind of fertiliser. They promised that not only would I get a payment straight up but the result if I used the fields for crops would pay for itself.”

“Did it?” said Carter

“No, not exactly. I don’t think they told me the whole truth because it didn’t make anything grow at all. In fact it had a completely different effect that I didn’t expect.”
“The field out back has a line of trees around its border. One of the trees had a wasps nest in it which on exposure to the chemical caused the wasps to triple in size and behave much more aggressively than normal. One of these wasps stung one of my sheep, which had the effect I’m sure your familiar with by now.”

Robert paused again to sip from his tea. “Once I found out that these mutated wasps were deadly I disposed of the nest as best I could. I bought a beekeepers suit and managed to get the nest out of the tree where I burned it and buried it behind the hay barn. I thought that would be that and all the wasps were dead but obviously they would appear to be more robust than I thought. The young boy who died in the Stanley Arms that night must have disturbed the nest and released the wasps. I can only presume that the mutation has led to an increase in their breeding rate which would explain the vast numbers out there right now.”

Carter sat in thought for a while. Finally he seemed to come to a decision.

“What did you use to burn the original nest?”

“I have a portable incinerator, kind of like a flame thrower I suppose,”

Carter stood up and paced over to the window. “How many of those protective suits do you have?”

“One,” said Robert. “I didn’t want to endanger anyone else.”

“Ok, that’s perfect. I’ll suit up, take that incinerator and torch the bastards! Lead the way.”

Robert led them back down into the cellar. The room was mostly full of junk and various bits of gardening equipment.

“Here it is,” said Robert pulling the beekeepers suits off the wall and handing it to Carter. “I’ll get you the flame thrower. I’m not sure how much fuel it has left so you’ll have to be quick.”

Carter took the suit off him and began to pull it over his clothes.

“Right, you head back into the house and lock the door to the cellar. I’ll leave through these doors and make my way round to the barn,” said Carter, pointing at the rusty doors he had come in through.

Robert did as he was instructed while Carter pulled the gauze helmet over his head. He climbed the stairs and thrust himself through the steel hatch, slamming it shut behind him.

Once again the wasps noticed him immediately. They swarmed into an angry, buzzing cloud and came at him almost as one entity. Just as they were upon him Carter let rip with a searing jet of flame that scorched them out of the sky. The dead wasps fell like rain while the remaining swarm regrouped and came at him again.
Once again Carter squeezed liquid fire into the sky, scorching wasps to the left and right of him. The air was thick with them, the sound of their furious buzzing almost deafening. He swung the jet of fire left and right, annihilating everything in its path. Wasps crawled over the front of his helmet. He could see them angrily trying to sting him through the gauze. Their huge stingers stabbing at him like needles.

After what seemed like an eternity, Carter scorched down the last of the swarm. He paused to catch his breath and ran down the side of the house to the hay barn. This was the source of the problem and he could see another cloud of wasps forming behind it.

He ran around the side of the barn and sure enough there was the nest. It looked like a huge honeycomb alive with wasps. He pointed his weapon and squeezed the trigger. A searing jet of flame flew straight at the nest engulfing it in fire. He hosed the nest down for what felt like at least ten minutes before he took his finger off the trigger.

A smouldering black mess lay where the nest once was. There was no way anything could have survived that. Just as he thought he had disposed with the source an angry black cloud of wasps came screaming down the road and over the fields.
“Shit!” said Carter. “There’s no way I can deal with that many at once.”
He ran back towards the house hammering on the front door. “Let me in, Rob for god’s sake, let me in!”

The door opened and Carter threw himself inside slamming the door behind him just in time. Once again the sound of furious buzzing wasps could be heard as they pelted themselves at the door.

“There’s too many, I can’t deal with that many all at once.”

The door behind them suddenly burst open. The swarm engulfed the room. Robert was swallowed up in seconds; wasps poured into his mouth and filled his lungs as he tried to scream. Within seconds there was nothing left of him but a quivering pile of pink flesh.

“Shit!” screamed Carter. He did the only thing he could and ran out of the house into the clear air. Realizing that all the remaining wasps were in the house he swung the door shut trapping them inside the building.

After a seconds thought he pulled the trigger again and hosed the farm house with flame. The house blazed like a roaring furnace, flames leaping hundreds of feet into the air.

Finally the fuel in Carters weapon ran out and he slumped to the ground, dropping the flame thrower as he fell. The house continued to burn fiercely. The hay barn was still burning after Carter had destroyed the nest. Carter dragged himself out into the road and collapsed.

He didn’t know if he had lay there for two minutes or two hours but the next time he awoke, he was lying in a hospital bed rapped in bandages. A nurse was leaning over him changing the bandages on his left arm.

“What happened?” said Carter. He felt disorientated.

“You were found on the road by the farm in Little Eppington when the fire services came to extinguish the blaze. You have suffered some nasty burns. You’re probably going to have quite a few scars.”

Carter tried to sit up but it was too painful. “What happened to the wasps?”

“Wasps? I don’t know what you mean. You’ve had a pretty rough time. You’re bound to feel a bit confused. Just sit back and get some rest.”

Carter looked at the nurse like she was insane. “But the wasps! If they’re not completely gone they’ll breed and come back…..They’re deadly!”

“Just lie down, everything will be fine. You’re being looked after.”

The nurse picked up a needle off the steel tray at the side of the bed.

“I think you could use another sedative. You‘ve received substantial burns and you‘re probably in shock.”

Carter tried to resist but once the sedative had been administered there was nothing he could do to prevent the slide into unconsciousness. He slipped back onto the bed mumbling something about giant wasps as the nurse pulled the curtain and walked away.

As Carter lay in blissful ignorance of the waking world. A single wasp hovered and landed on the hospital window before flying off into the night.

THE END