Pest

Chapter One

            As the electric alarm clock on the nightstand beside the bed blared, Wyatt realized for the first time that he was by himself. There was no smell of pancakes drifting in from the kitchen, nor a sizzle of bacon from the stove. He could do without the oldies radio station his mother insisted on playing every morning, but there was something eerie about being all by himself in a one-bedroom apartment when he was so used to sharing the space with his mother. Since his schedule had changed, it no longer matched with her shifts at the hospital and they were never at home at the same time.

          The tired teenager pulled himself up on the bed to hit the snooze button, then out of bed and into the dimly lit kitchen to flip on the lights. The coffee machine had been prepped the night before- all he had to do was hit a button. His eyes shifted to the half-empty box of cereal on the edge of the counter, and he grabbed himself a bowl and spoon. There was no real milk in the fridge- just a carton of almond milk, which he figured was fine. Wyatt grabbed his bowl of cereal and a mug of coffee, and headed to the living room couch to check his laptop sitting on the coffee table.

          After logging on, Wyatt scrolled through the articles on his favorite news site. As a biology major, he was interested in primarily scientific articles. A bold headline caught his eye- "US Government Releases First Swarms of Genetically Modified Bees". Finally, he thought to himself as he clicked and scrolled down the page, skimming the words. During the past year, the price of honey had skyrocketed to the point where it was now locked in cabinets like the fancy electric razors at the store. Companies that relied on honey for cereals or other products had lost a large share of revenue due to the mass deaths honeybees. People always started to care when it was too late, and only if it could generate a profit.

         Wyatt frowned as his tired eyes focused on an image at the center of the article. It was one of those new bees, presumably dead, and preserved in a jar of formaldehyde. A geneticist clutched the jar in his hand, and by comparison, the dead insect appeared to be the size of the man's index finger, complete with stinger and all. Was it really necessary to keep the stinger on? Wyatt searched the article for an explanation, to find that because the situation was so urgent, the scientists did not have time to do so while also creating a resistance to pesticides. Fair enough, he thought. He glanced over the comments, which were mostly just astonished people complaining that the bees unnerved them despite how grateful they were, but the article assured they would only be used in agricultural areas and that they posed no threat to people.

        Suddenly Wyatt heard a strange sound- a steady humming. His first instinct was to check the washing machine and the dryer. Wyatt got up to do so, but then he heard the car horns, followed by the screams. He ran to the window, which was still cracked open, and looked down at the streets below. A huge cloud was making its way down the road. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a swarm of insects. Wyatt slammed the window shut just in time to catch one of the creatures' wings beneath the sill. He let out a stunned gasp and stepped back from the twitching remains of the insect.

         Wyatt grabbed his phone from the dining room table and dialed his mom's work phone with shaking fingers. He was greeted by an automated voice message. "You have reached Wellford Hospital. We are sorry, but we are not able to take any calls at this time. Please leave a message after the tone." Wyatt sighed, hung up, and dialed his mom's personal phone number. He didn't care what she was doing; he had to speak to her. He was about to press call when a call from her came in instead. "Wyatt? Wyatt, what's going on?"

"Mom, there's bees everywhere!"

"I know, I've seen them. The hospital is on lock-down. Is your window shut? Shut it now!"

"Yes, Mom, it's shut," Wyatt replied.

"Listen carefully. Don't leave the apartment. Do you hear me? Roll the shutters down, and stay inside. Watch a movie, or something. But whatever you do, do not go out and do not let anyone in."

"Okay."

"If you get hungry, start with the perishable food. Save the canned, frozen and preserved for last."

"Is the world ending or something?" The silent pause on the other end of the line made Wyatt uneasy. "Mom?"

"We have to be prepared," his mother finally replied. "We can't know what's going to happen. It's first time that something like this has happened. The consequences can't be foreseen."

"But what about college?" Wyatt asked, growing anxious. He realized it was a stupid question as soon as the words left his mouth. 

"Wyatt, your classes will probably be cancelled for the time being. I'm sorry dear."

Wyatt sighed. "Are you coming home?"

"I'll be home when I can. For now I have to stay with my patients. It isn't safe out there, anyway."

"Alright," Wyatt said.

"I have to go. I love you."

"I love you too Mom."

          When his mother hung up the phone, Wyatt felt even more alone than he had before. He quickly bolted the door shut and approached the window to draw the shutters. Looking down at the street below, he saw people being swarmed by insects as they frantically attempted to escape. The sight was too horrifying to bear, and he had never drawn the shutters as quickly as he had then. Wyatt headed to the pantry, turning cans and boxes over and sorting them by the expiration date. A thing or two was expired, but he kept them around anyway. Taking a look at the kitchen, it seemed like he would be covered for water for a while. He returned to his laptop and quickly googled a few a things, just in case of the event that his internet access would be interrupted. A refresh of the news site confirmed his fear- the bees had gotten out of control. 

         He searched until he found an article about how to kill mass amounts of bees, including information on how to remove stingers from the skin. He quickly jotted down the things he would need to do in order to protect himself from the threat. After all that was done, Wyatt reclined on the couch and flipped on the television. The news was, as expected, the people who were responsible making excuses. They were advising that people stay indoors for the time being. And they gave the message that the number of deaths could not possibly be counted at the moment, as it was still rising steadily. Three percent of the population was allergic to bees. That was nine million people that could be killed from one bee sting alone. These bees swarmed their victims, aggressively stinging as often as they could. Wyatt switched to DVD, opting for a comedy that would take his mind off the chaos raging outside his apartment complex. The young man shut his eyes, and obliviously drifted off to sleep.