Memoirs of Ali
Chapter 8 - Ending (Yes! Finally! Now I can get on with my life! I was really nervous about ending this, and I have a feeling that it's probably one of the worst chapters. Critique away.)
* * * *
Everything seemed to stop. Every insect eye was fixed on either Aussie's body or the Spider. I was looking at Aussie, still nauseated beyond belief, but beneath the nausea I was starting to feel something else: anger. Aussie's death was jarring enough - such a huge, powerful, gentle creature! - but a hundred dead or dying bees lying on the ground beside her, their internal organs having been ripped out of their bodies along with their stingers as they had blindly done the Spider's will, fueled my rage even more. We were truly doing ourselves in.
This, I thought, could not possibly be progress.
Other creatures seemed to think so too. A restless murmur, like a strong fire, was beginning to spread through the ranks. The Spider screeched, trying to regain control.
"Back to the raid!" he said. "Quickly, now!"
No one moved. Everyone was looking at the Spider, and each face held a question: would they continue to follow, and perchance end up like the dead insects that surrounded Aussie, or would they quit?
"Don't quit now, comrades!" the Spider cried. "See how close we are!"
His voice acted like a cue. The crowd moved like a single being, separating itself into two groups. The first group, mostly wasps, grasshopper and the occasional mouse or squirrel, stood by the Spider. The second, which was composed of many birds, bees and the entire ant colony, gathered close to Aussie's body, muttering, angry, rebellious. Slowly, without knowing exactly what I was doing, I walked over and joined the second group.
"Ali!" the Spider thundered suddenly. "What are you doing over there, among traitors? Come and join the right side, you and everyone who has any brain or any sense at all."
I hadn't known he had seen me. If praying mantises could blush, I would have then, something told me that my moment had arrived. Steeling myself, I made my way to the front of my group and stared into the Spider's eyes.
"In that other room over there," I said, gesturing, "there are a bunch of humans scared out of their wits. Maybe they're cruel. Maybe they're evil inside. I don't know. But even if they are bad, when they were still in charge I saw all sorts of good things going on. We were all pretty much . . . well, happy." I thought of Toby and felt a new surge of bravery. "I fell in love with a girl named Kamala. She died under the humans' hand, which is why I'm standing here right now. I wanted to avenge her. But maybe . . ." I looked at Aussie's body again. "With the consequences, it's not worth it."
I could almost feel everyone's eyes resting on me.
"I see." The Spider's voice was cold. "Well, Ali, I see we have reached a roadblock. You may leave us if you wish. Go on. Go ahead. Go, and live in shame once we have triumphed."
"It's not going to be like that," I said quietly. "See, I think the rest of these creatures here are ready to fight you."
A murmur of approval went up from behind me; I could feel the united fervor of the creatures gathered there warming me in universal approval.
"To fight me?" the Spider said, his voice going even softer than mine.
"Yes," I whispered, but my voice carried around the whole room. Even the silence seemed to roar.
"So be it, then," said the Spider.
And then he shrieked: "Attack!"
Insect clashed with insect, creature with creature. Stingers sunk into pincers and pincers slashed abdomens; beaks pecked at claws and ears and wings slapped against fur. I was utterly disoriented; I had never been in any situation like this before. I turned and saw a wasp flying straight at me; panic leapt inside of me and I froze where I stood, unable to act. Its jaws were gaping wide, ready to bite my neck.
Something gray flashed in the air and struck the wasp, it fell to the ground, twitching weakly. It was Violet.
"You -?" I gasped, and she flashed a look of wild fierceness at me. Her eyes were no longer shadowed, but bright and huge with insane enthusiasm. She looked like a creature who had spent months in a dark place and had suddenly arrived at the fulfillment of his entire life. She said nothing to me, but turned and headed back into the fray with a wild laugh.
She's lost it, I thought. Why else would my sister, the cold bloodthirsty warrior, be fighting on my side? Dimly, feeling as if the world had gone mad, I tried to seek out a new enemy to face.
Then I saw something that filled me with even more anger than before. The Spider was crawling up the wall, leaving the fray behind him, heading for the nearest window.
Forgetting myself entirely, I began climbing after him, intent on bringing him down, having him reap the fruit of the venomous seeds he had sowed. He turned and saw me coming after him, and for a second reluctance flickered in his eyes.
"Ali," he said, "I didn't mean for this to happen."
I stopped in my tracks, watching him carefully, wondering if I was actually seeing remorse.
"Nonetheless," he said, "you are a traitor for supporting this meaningless rebellion. Come here."
He lunged at me. I dodged and lashed his face; he staggered backward. I struck him again and he slid several inches down the wall, making a high-pitched whining sound; I charged after him, hurting him my only objective.
When I reached him again, however, I discovered that he wasn't as disoriented as I had thought: preparing to strike him once more, I suddenly felt an agonizing pain in my front grasper. With a surge of horror I realized that the Spider had bitten the spot; two long fangs had pierced my leg completely through, and the Spider was straining to tear it away from my body altogether.
The pain was so great, greater than anything I had ever felt, it paralyzed me for a moment. Then raw instinct prevailed and I drove my own fangs into the Spider's head. As I felt them sink deeper and deeper in, I felt a rush of satisfaction. The world around me shifted and pitched weirdly; dimly, I felt myself fall away from the wall and to the floor.
I barely felt the collision; everything seemed to be spinning into darkness. Someone shrieked "The Spider is dead!", and I felt something cradling my head before I lost consciousness
* * * * * * *
"Ali! Ali!"
The world slipped back into focus slowly, agonizingly. I was lying on the ground, surrounded by my own blood. I saw my own mangled leg, the front grasper missing, lying limply at my side.
"Ali!"
I groaned and looked up. There was Violet, her eyes still bright, calling my name. But wait . . . Violet would never call my name like that, would she? Then I saw Toby sitting at her shoulder. He looked sick with concern.
"Toby," I moaned softly, "I'm sorry . . . I'm an idiot."
"You're no idiot," Toby said. "Look what you did."
I looked at where he was pointing. The Spider lay on the ground, his legs lying in a bloody tangle around him, dead.
"You're a hero," Toby said simply.
"What happened?" I asked.
"After you killed the Spider," Violet said, "everything went to pieces. Some of the people on his side just completely lost their heads. Of course, there were also some who didn't lose their heads and kept on fighting, but you really inspired us, Ali. We smashed them. We really smashed them."
She was glowing with pride. I stared at her.
"Why . . . why weren't you . . ."
"Why wasn't I fighting with the Spider?" Violet laughed. "Well, mostly I just saw how many people were going to fight against him at the end and I figured he would lose and it wouldn't be worth it. But also, what you said kind of made sense. You know, about the consequences."
"I . . ." I choked on my words; then I realized I wasn't just choking on my them, but on blood.
"Are you okay?" Toby said.
"Of course he's not," Violet said. She sounded angry. "He's missing a leg, idiot!"
"Violet," I said weakly. "I . . . I think it's . . . time . . . to go."
I was afraid I would need to explain what I meant, but Violet understood. I didn't want her to go. I wanted to go myself. Slowly, carefully, Violet lifted me onto her back, and we began walking the long way across the floor of the house. We passed close to the huge feet of humans, who were apparently assessing the damage done to their domain. None of them seemed to notice us. When we reached the door, Violet pushed me under the crack between the wood paneling and the ground; my nerves burned with pain at the movement.
"You need to be outside," Violet said quietly. "It's not proper to die within walls."
She lay me in the grass. The sun was shining brightly.
"Any last words?" Violet's voice was teasing, but oddly gentle. "I'll be sure and tell the others."
"I never had any children," I said, the terrible truth of it stinging me horribly.
"You had children," Violet said.
"But I never mated with Kamala!"
"You had children. Every insect that you saved, every insect that you helped convince to stop, to fight back - they're all your children. Your brainchildren, I'd say. And they'll go on having children and children and more children, and they'll all be yours. You had children, Ali."
I drew in breath sharply. What Violet said couldn't be true . . . and yet it made sense, somehow.
Violet touched my abdomen lightly once before turning to go. Her shadowed eyes had no sorrow, but she looked kinder than I had ever seen her.
"Sleep well, Ali," she said.
* * * * * * *
The next few moments are very fleeting and very painful. The feeling of coldness I had begun to experience at the beginning of autumn takes me over completely; I let my sight slowly fade and numbness settle over my body.
The sun is the last thing I see before my vision blacks out completely. It feels strangely like home -- like being back in the egg sac in the spring the beginning of my life, not knowing what it was like to see light or feel pain or love or hunger or anger. Like simply going on, existing, but not really existing or living at all.
At the same time, though, it's different. Now I know what it means to live, even if I will never actually do it again. Now I've been through so much, I feel as if I'm ready to go, instead of yearning to break out. Aspen would probably approve.
I think briefly of Kamala. I would not mind her eating me alive even now, because whether in spring or winter she is always the same thing: wonderful, and mine.
So I am not afraid as I go bounding away to meet her in death, and to find eternal spring in the silence.
End
