Cry of the Cicada (Short), Page 3

care of it myself. Just get what you came for and let’s get the hell out of here. I’m with Peterson. I think we should leave.”

  Kate nodded and swung her backpack to the ground. She fished through its contents, gathering the remaining empty specimen bottles. There were only two large enough to fit the oversized Cicada.

  “What I’d really like, are some live ones. What to do, what to do…” She contemplated the churning mass.

  Peterson and Grey groaned in unison.

  Kate turned back to the pair—one bandaging her arm with a grim, determined expression, the other cowering against a tree a few meters from the ridge. She took pity on them. “Look, why don’t you guys start back to camp. Hertson and I can finish up here. And Peterson...if I were you, I wouldn’t lean against any trees—”

  Just then, a dark oval, nearly seven inches long, bounced off Peterson’s head and attached itself to his shoulder. He stared with abject horror into the expressionless insect eyes. After a moment of shock, he screamed and flapped his arms, hopping from foot to foot in a dance the Mad Hatter would have been proud of.

  The stoic Cicada remained anchored to his shoulder, looking supremely indifferent to its host’s distress.

  “Peterson, PETERSON! Stop moving,” ordered Kate.

  “Idiot,” muttered Hertson under his breath.

  Kate advanced on the terrified man, brandishing a large specimen jar. “Stay still and I’ll get it off.”

  He froze and repeated “just don’t let it bite me” in an endless, breathless whisper.

  She eased the jar over the Cicada and carefully slid the lid into place.

  “Congratulations!” She patted Peterson’s shoulder, unintentionally making him flinch. “It’s a boy. You had nothing to worry about. As with most species, it’s the girls you have to watch out for. They’re the ones with the cutting claw.”

  She turned to Grey. “You guys take the GPS and head back. We should be fine if you leave us the map.”

  Grey nodded, relieved. After fishing the rumpled map out of her bag, she hurriedly dragged Peterson away. He cast a worried look at them before disappearing into the forest. Kate wasn’t sure if he was worried about her and Hertson’s safety, or Grey’s ability to find their camp. She suspected the latter.

  "Now,” she re-tied her falling ponytail and faced Hertson. “Any idea how we can catch a female without getting hurt?"

  "I’ve always found that roses and a good dinner works.” He grinned as she raised an eyebrow. “Or, you could try whacking one with your stick again. As plans go, it's a bit Neanderthal, but you can't argue with results. I’ll scoop it up while it's stunned. That's really our only feasible option." He snorted in disgust at the collapsible net he’d been carrying. "This isn’t going to hold up against these guys. We should have brought a bloody tazer."

  “Agreed.” Kate chuckled as she retrieved her walking stick. "Wish me luck."

  Standing as close to the edge and buzzing Cicada as she dared, Kate started swinging. After about a minute her stick connected.

  "Bugger. Another male," she said, leaning over the dazed insect. "I’ll try once more. Then we'll just take whatever we get. It’s late and we need to get going."

  Soon, another wayward Cicada was lying on the ground.

  Hertson thumped a jar on top of it and examined the furious Cicada. He let out an impressed whistle. "Apparently, luck is a lady."

  “Good. I’ve just about had it.” She wiped a hand across her dripping forehead. “Actually, I got off pretty lightly this time. I usually come back from these little adventures looking like I've been scrubbed with a wire brush."

  Placing the jar in Hertson’s pack, she grudgingly hefted her own bag and headed back down the trail. Hertson followed looking over his shoulder, still captivated by the clouds of flitting Cicada.

  Base Camp. July 13 - 20:42

  Dusk had fallen before Hertson and Kate dragged themselves into camp. Sasha was first to spot them and ran up, proudly displaying her day's accomplishment.

  The four-foot snake took offence at being shoved in Kate's face and hissed.

  "Honey, you're scaring him. It’s better to move slow and, please, wash your hands before supper." Kate gently took the snake and inspected her daughter’s new friend.

  "I've decided to call him Ed. After uncle Ed. He reminds me of a snake. He’s got the same beady eyes..." Sasha’s voice trailed off when she recognized her mother’s 'that's not nice' look. "I found him eating a mouse under our trailer. See the lump in his tummy?" She pointed at a bulbous mass on the snake's underbelly and then glared at the distant figure of Melanie. "She tried to get Grey to kill him. But I hid him in our bed. Wasn't that smart?"

  "You realize I’ll have to wash the sleeping bags now." Kate put her hands on her hips.

  "Sorry mom. But wasn't it smart of me to hide him where they couldn't find him?"

  "Well, it was better than killing the poor thing, for sure. But you have to let him go. He'll probably stick around, as long as you haven't scared him half to death. You can watch him do snake things tomorrow."

  "Okay. But you have to tell me two bedtime stories tonight and they have to have Ed in them!" Sasha demanded with a stubborn tilt to her chin.

  “Deal.” Kate lurched toward their trailer. "Just let him go by that bush and then wash up. Dinner's going to be very soon. Mom's hungry!"

  Kate flopped down on the bed as soon as she was inside and slowly stretched her aching muscles. Just as she relaxed into a semi-comfortable spread-eagle, there was a sharp knock on the door and a bedraggled Hertson shuffled in.

  She briefly raised her head and then let it drop back when the effort proved too much. "I see I’m not the only one suffering the effects of a ten hour hike. This field work didn’t seem so tough at twenty-five." She groaned, massaging her stiff shoulders. “Since when did I get old?”

  Hertson pursed his lips. "I may not be the most sensitive person around, but even I'm pretty sure I shouldn’t touch that one. Soooo…I put the Cicada in the lab trailer.” After a brief pause, he continued. “Do they need anything?"

  Kate was torn between amusement at his discomfort about not knowing what to do with the Cicada, and exhausted indifference about anything that didn’t involve food or sleep. She decided to be amused later and indifferent now. "Just leave them. I'll set them up tonight before I hit the sack."

  Base Camp. July 14 - 01:14

  Kate awoke to a loud thumping at her door.

  "What!” she grumbled, stiffly struggling upright in her sleeping bag.

  The door opened and the camper’s overhead light flicked on. Peterson hovered at the entrance.

  "This had better be good," she groaned.

  "Grey's not doing so hot. Her arm's swelling and…oozing. It's pretty nasty. I think we’d better get her to a hospital. You have some first aid training right?"

  "Oh perfect. I told her to clean that cut. " Kate stumbled out of bed wearing boxers covered in red hearts and a faded Def Leppard T-shirt. She grabbed her med-kit from the floor where she had dropped it earlier and stomped past Peterson.

  He needlessly guided her to Grey’s trailer and ushered her inside. Grey was sitting at the fold-out table, wincing as Hertson poked at her arm. The wound was badly inflamed and her arm had doubled in size. A putrid stream of bubbly, grey puss trickled down her arm.

  Kate’s eyes widened. "Hmmm, yes, I think we should get you to a doctor."

  Grey stood and swayed unsteadily.

  Kate helped her back into her chair and looked closely at her face. Pale as a sheet, it was a mask of pain.

  "You stay put while I throw some clothes on. I’ll bring the truck around." Turning to Hertson she asked, "Can you keep an eye on Sasha? She’s a bit much for Melanie. And call the Oswega hospital to let them know we’re coming. I can’t be screwing around with the truck radio while driving a stick shift in the dark. It’s been a while."

  Hertson paused, biting his lip, and then nodded. "I’ll call them right away. But
I'm not good with kids..." He sounded apprehensive. "Don't expect me to play with her or anything."

  "Just don't let her wander off anywhere. She has a bad habit of exploring places unattended."

  Five minutes later, they carefully manoeuvred Grey into the passenger seat of her rickety forestry truck. Alternately gasping in pain and swearing at them, the ranger eventually settled herself with an aggrieved whimper, and Kate began the four hour drive to Oswega.

  Gravel Road. July 14 - 02:29

  Grey mumbled incomprehensibly and fidgeted with her jacket zipper while Kate did her best to keep the old truck on the road. The steering was so loose she could turn the wheel a half rotation with no effect, and the alignment was off because the vehicle kept veering to the right.

  The road wasn’t helping either. There were numerous blind turns, potholes so large they could more accurately be called canyons, and the truck was close to shaking itself apart on the washboards that water runoff had left in the gravel surface.

  Concerned the jostling was too much for Grey, Kate asked how she was doing.

  Grey turned and blankly stared at her, opening and closing her mouth like a beached fish. There was a strange, rotten odor on her breath. She suddenly wheezed and her body spasmed.

  “Grey! Damn…” Kate swerved the truck to the side of the road, leapt out, and ran to the passenger side. She threw open the door and half lowered, half dropped the ranger’s jerking body to the ground. As she put her jacket under Grey’s head, her eyes rolled back in their sockets and she went rigid in one final