Day 3
They’re still not back.
Day 5
I snuck onto the playground to sit on that old swing set by myself. We’re supposed to stay inside, but I doubt anyone would care if something happened to me. I like to just stare at the trees on the horizon and try to forget about the life directly behind me. Others like to huddle in corners as their loved ones whisper reassurances. I guess when you’re alone you don’t have anyone to lie to you. Everyone thought it was such a genius idea to take shelter in the daycare — I did too at first. Except now we’re all surrounded by motivational posters and colourful building blocks. None of it quite fits the situation.
The building the nineteen of us arrived at only has two main areas: one to sleep and one to eat. At night we all get real cozy surrounded by each other’s nervous body odour. At meals, we crouch into those miniature chairs and simulate small talk. I learn all my information about what’s going on from eavesdropping. I don’t participate in the conversations, and I’m not sure I’ve really had a proper one since getting here.
It’s probably unhealthy how little I talk, and I think my silence disturbs everyone for some reason. There was this girl, Madison, who tried to be my friend early on. She told me I should socialize more, and I told her she should stop stress-eating so much or she’ll get fat. She doesn’t really talk to me much anymore. I like that.
Everyone else feels some sort of bond with each other because of what we’ve survived. They eat and talk and hope together. I feel like hope is a silly thing to waste — especially on the three people that left. They were sent to locate other people, learn any new info, or maybe bring back some supplies. But it had been too long. A group completely exposed like that had probably been dead for days now. People don’t really like to talk about it, because I guess it’s comforting to still have something to believe in. I’d rather just rip the band-aid right off.
Day 9
Earlier I was listening to a conversation the four other younger people were having. They were talking about the swarms the way children talk about the latest action movie.
I heard they lay eggs in your skin!
No, they eat your skin.
I’m pretty sure they go through your nose then lay the eggs in your brain.
They apparently all come in this big cloud!
Then this guy Ray said something.
I saw them. They were at the end of my street. I just saw them crash through someone’s house before I had to get out of there.
Crash through someone’s house? They’re wasps.
Yeah but all those tiny wasps come together like one solid thing. There must be like millions and millions of them! You don’t understand, you haven’t seen a swarm in person.
Was it weird I was jealous Ray had actually seen them? At least he actually knew what we were supposed to be afraid of. Most people just knew the little we could tie together from old news reports or the constantly repeated misinformation.
Now I could look back at how everyone had ignored the hints in the months leading us here. First, a discovery of the new micro-species — Tinkerbella nana. It’s a wasp so small they’re actually pretty invisible and harmless. If scientists hadn’t started poking and prodding, they probably would have stayed that way. Then there were the sly jokes about angry wasps, plus the casual references to hyperactive reproduction and erratic behaviour until everything bubbled over, the unimaginable happened, and now I’m living in a daycare.
The people who had the power to prevent this probably should have done something sooner. But I guess I can’t blame them too much. Who would have ever thought…it’s like something out of a nightmare.
Day 11
Today I watched through a window as a hawk chased down a mouse. It just swooped down and pierced it with its talons before taking off again. Punctured organs, internal bleeding, depleting life. The mouse was probably in agonizing pain, but it was thankfully over quickly. Nature kills to survive. What else does the hawk know? But it was still pretty grisly — and I didn’t even flinch.
Day 12
The crackers are stale. Which is annoying. I know we’re all in survival mode, but it would’ve been nice to enjoy something for once. The soup Susanne makes here is pretty flavourless, and so I count on a side of crisp crackers to supplement my meal. Imagine my disappointment when I bit into a stale cracker after a spoonful of heated water. Of course, they all gave me those looks when I mentioned my displeasure to Susanne. If they’re fine with stale crackers then that’s just an example of their poor standards.
Day 13
There’s still no sign of the group that left. I knew this would happen though. It was a silly idea. They’re definitely dead.
Day 14
This man Chris was staring at me today. I was just minding my own business, not saying a word by the washable paints. He was pretending to read a magazine, looking at me between page flips. I’m pretty sure it’s because of what happened that first day the swarms attacked. He probably thinks I owe him or something, or maybe he feels like it’s his job to protect me.
The streets were pandemonium that day. People were screaming and running and looting, taking advantage of anyone they could step on. I was with my parents when we heard a noise at the back of our house.
They urged me to hide in the hall closet.
I hid.
I heard a man’s voice.
A couple of words.
Two gunshots.
There was some rustling and banging in the kitchen.
Then silence.
When I slowly left the closet, the cupboards were open, items missing, and my parents were on the floor.
Their faces still expectant of life.
I remember I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. So I stopped trying. I mindlessly drifted into the chaos outside. Everyone had erupted into a collective panic, a horde that wasn’t really going anywhere, just bodies trading places. I ended up in the middle of it, just moving with the throngs of people. I shortly crumpled to the ground, not really expecting to ever get up. But then I’m pretty sure that man — Chris — brought me here. I think he thought he had saved me.
Day 16
The crackers are still stale, but from what I overheard from two of the adults in charge, we may not have much food left. No one expected we would have to survive this long on our own. We expected people to do things — well other people. We expected government and services, the army or something.
But what’s going to happen if we have to just keep on going and going?
I don’t know.
Well the way we’re headed, I don’t know if it’s going to be the swarms that get us first or the lack of food. It’s not sustainable!
I know. I know.
There are too many mouths to feed.
I stopped listening after that — because the solution for too many mouths is actually quite simple. It’s to have fewer mouths. And if it ever came down to it, and I had to guess who they’d choose to get rid of first, it would probably be the annoyingly silent cracker complainer.
Day 18
Still no news on the three that left. Some days I pretend my parents were a part of that group. We all made it here together, but they were courageous so they volunteered to help the greater cause. That way they’re gone, and realistically I know they’re not coming back, but there’s still a little hope. Not that I’m still hoping.
Day 19
I got to see a swarm today. They drifted into the field beside the daycare as we silently cowered, not daring to move. I don’t actually know if I was scared or not. Without being provoked, they looked so serene. Just an unidentifiable mass, bobbing along.
Most people didn’t see it like that though. It raised even more concerns, knowing they were so close to us now. We all agreed to be extra cautious, but I think what they really meant was for me to stop going outside. I just nodded in agreement.
Day 20
This middle-aged man had a bit of a breakdown today.
They’re bugs for God's sake! Bugs! Am I freakin’ losing it or what? This is madness!
I smiled a little. He was right. They were just bugs. Well, not just. But out of context, it seemed pretty funny that we had all been sent running scared over some insects. Again, not some. A lot. Not just insects. Legitimate scientifically modified pests.
And then later I saw this woman, Tracy, all by herself. She was always one of the really optimistic ones. She used to smile a lot early on, but now not so much. It almost made me like her a little more.
Day 21
I could tell my isolation was really starting to affect me when I actually craved some kind of human interaction. I went up to this girl that I was pretty sure went to the same high school as me. I just sat down beside her, and we actually managed to have a decent conversation. Her name is Stephanie, and she’s here with her older brother Jake. Their parents were out of town when the swarms hit so she doesn’t know their whereabouts, or if they’re even still alive. Heavy stuff. I of course told her my parents were dead and then out of some kind of misplaced catharsis I hugged her very tightly. Held her until she asked to be let go. We sat in a silence marred by self-consciousness until she excused herself and walked away.
I know we’re not supposed to go outside but I had to visit my swing again. A lot seemed to come at once, and I couldn’t help but cry. My trembles rocked the swing back and forth; it was just soothing enough that the steel chains became my mother’s arms, the wind my father’s kiss.
Their deaths were quick but unceremonious. If it was a swarm that killed them, at least it would have made some sense. But it was panic and greed. All it took was a man with a pistol to end their lives — just so he could take some peanut butter and canned soup. On better days I imagine he was an overly desperate man that had a family he needed to provide for. Maybe he killed my parents out of love, and their deaths meant some other people got to live a little longer.
Day 24
I’m not well. Everything here is bothersome, and I’m so tired of living with these people in this primary-coloured dungeon wishing for three other people I know are dead to spring up and save the day since my parents were murdered by a greedy coward all because a mob of engineered bees is terrorizing us. I’m not well. At least I know it, but I’m afraid of what this could mean for me. The world has perfectly drawn the line between those that prey and those who are preyed upon. I’m terrified that I’m learning my place.
Day 26
This time when a swarm approaches, I creep onto the playground. I think I hear someone try to stop me, but I’ve already made up my mind. I truly hope the people inside are spared, yet whether I’m enough to satisfy the throng of bees is not for me to decide. I no longer pretend to predict the ways of predators. I give a final glance to those in the daycare; their existence is in their own hands now.
As I look to the horizon, the trees surrender, bowing down as a swarm viciously pushes their way towards me. It’s beautifully chaotic when they come for you. Majestic. I don’t think anyone should hate them for just trying to survive. One synchronous horde ready to eat my skin or lay eggs in my brain. I only hope for a swift end.
