Young Writers Society

Memoirs of Ali

Chapter Six

That night I was unsure if I was dreading the dawn or looking forward to it. My emotions seemed to have become rather blurry. As I rested in the shade of the hollow, I thought with a pang of Kamala. I hoped that, if she was still with me, she would have thought me brave.

When the first light finally came, the Spider's headquarters nearly burst at the seams with excitement. As I tried to avoid the stingers of bees and grasshoppers' hopping legs, I felt Spider nudging me.

"What?"

"You're a lieutenant," said the Spider. "Help us marshal them up."

I was abashed. Marshal up this insane crowd? Still, I didn't want the Spider to lose faith in me, so I dutifully began lining up the skittish bugs into rows. I could hear the old grasshopper shouting loudly at a group of thuggish-looking bees who were trying to kick him in the face a couple of rows away, and his voice mingled unpleasantly with Violet's, who was running around and threatening insects at random with death if they didn't get into their positions. The sun was high in the sky by the time we were through. With the Spider in the lead, we marched out of our fortress of bushes and into the sea of grass, bound for the ant colony.

We got there quickly enough. I saw the hill of fine, black dirt, punctured by the many tiny holes that I knew lead into tunnels going into the depths of the earth below us.

"Now remember," said Spider once we were just a few feet away from the hill, "we are not here to kill or conquer. We are here to persuade, to help and teach. If I see any one of you needlessly tormenting an ant, he will be executed. The tormentor, that is, not the ant."

"We understand," I said.

Violet giggled. "Needlessly tormenting . . . I think some tormenting will be needed, though, don't you, brother?" I didn't answer her.

Slowly we approached the anthill and surrounded it. After a few seconds, a tiny black body emerged from one of the holes. The ant was carrying a crumb in her jaws. She looked amazed, as if she had never seen so many insects in one place before. A few of the grasshoppers snickered.

"Who are you?" the ant said.

"Greetings," said the Spider smoothly. "We are here to speak to your Queen."

"Um . . . okay," said the ant. "Um . . . I'll pass the word along."

She disappeared again. The grasshoppers began laughing.

"That's a typical blackleg for you," one of them chuckled.

"Silence!" the Spider growled at him.

More ants were emerging from the soil. I had never really observed ants very much. Now I could see how fascinating they seemed, with their small, strong black bodies and their legs moving as quickly as grass blowing in a high wind. Their eyes seemed strangely weathered and glassy, but they treated each other with deep courtesy as they helped each other free from the earth.

At last, the biggest ant of all emerged. She had a huge abdomen and full, long antennae, and she was surrounded by stocky, winged males, all of which were staring at her with deepest adoration. This, I thought, must be the queen.

"Good afternoon." The Spider addressed her cordially.

"And to you also," said the queen. Her voice was rough and earthy. I marveled at her collected politeness -- didn't she know that she was surrounded by potential predators? "Why have you come?"

"For freedom and justice," said the Spider, "to discuss matters of utmost importance."

"Proceed, then," said the queen.

Speaking quickly and passionately, the Spider began to describe in full the horrors humans were inflicting on the insect community and what had to be done to become free from their despotism. As I watched, I saw that the queen was carefully considering every word.

"I see," she said once the Spider had finished. "And if we help you to fight the humans, how will we benefit?"

"How will you benefit?" the grasshopper burst out. "Of all the simple creatures . . ."

"Silence," said the Spider again, his silky voice tinged with anger. "Dear queen, you shall indeed benefit. You shall reap the rewards of freedom tenfold. Think of your children, confined to the dark passages! After we are through, they will feast on the fruit of the earth."

The queen nodded.

"If it is for the good of our children . . ." she began, but stopped. A very young, very small ant, too curious for her own good, and crept out of the protecting ranks of her kin and was quickly swept off of her feet by none other than Violet. For once, my sister didn't cackle indulgently at the sight of the helpless child suspended in midair; she was looking at the queen with utmost seriousness.

"If you do not help us," she said, as the queen stared just as seriously back, "your beloved children will suffer for sure. For, you see, the humans are dangerous, and we need you to help us defend ourselves against them. Your children are your future. Do not let them be wiped out."

She dropped the tiny insect, who landed with a soft thud on the ground and crawled dazedly back into the ranks of ants. The queen looked from her, to Violet, to the Spider again. She seemed anguished.

"I do not like wars," she said quietly. "But if it is for the good of our children . . . I think it would be good for us to participate."

"I knew you would see the light," said the Spider warmly.

I stole a sideways glance at my sister, who looked more pleased than I had ever seen her. For once, I found myself admiring her. I looked back at the ranks of ants, feeling strangely affectionate towards them as well. Such strange little insects they were -- but now they were my little comrades, my sisters in duty and purpose.

* * * * * * * *

Over time, the ants easily became our most valued weapons -- they were widespread, they were knowledgeable, and most of all, fanatically loyal. Now that their queen and mother had been convinced, not a single ant had any vestige of a doubt left inside of her; they all lived for her, worked for her, and dutifully did whatever she commanded. Squadrons of ants would set out to scout the farthest reaches of the lawn at the slightest hint, and several brave souls even took it upon themselves to venture into the house itself, although only a few came back, and their sanities were considerably damaged by the experience.

"It is another world entirely," was all we could coax out of them.

As the days flowed into weeks, the Spider slowly began taking control of the entire population of Cultivated Country. Everyone had a role to play. Gangs of bees patrolled the area, searching for potential opposition. Strong ants and grasshoppers constructed forts around the house, and the most intelligent insects camped out by the foundations, calculating the most ideal way to bring them tumbling down. I am proud to say that I was part of this group. My partners and I quickly deduced that it would be impossible to actually destroy the stone foundations; we were just too small and weak. However, if we could somehow manage to penetrate the house, we could swarm inside, frighten out the humans with stings and bites, and hopefully lay it to waste from within.

By late summer, the unthinkable began to happen: other animals besides insects began helping us. The first to join were mostly birds, who ate many insects and therefore had a surprising amount of knowledge about their doings. Afterward came the mice, several squirrels, and even an old gray rabbit who was very little help in actuality, but he certainly improved morale.

Throughout all of this, the Spider remained back at the original hollow, perched serenely in his web, carefully weighing every option, maneuver and discovery with the polished scales of his mind. There was hardly a more exulted creature anywhere. He was, however, becoming more isolated, and he rarely spoke with his lieutenants directly anymore. It came as a surprise when, one day when the first scents of fall were tinging the wind and the air was starting to loose its summer heaviness, he summoned me and Violet to come directly to his chamber and discuss "something of importance."

"What is it, Spider?" I said as my sister and I descended into the darkness of the hollow.

"There's something on my mind," he said in a low voice. "Day by day we work to overthrow the humans, but are we making any real progress? Creatures a small as us can never overpower such huge monsters on their own, no matter what I tell the other insects. We need a weapon -- something powerful -- something as big as they are."

He sighed and shifted his legs restlessly. I had never seen him this anxious.

"But, Spider," I said tentatively, "how could we ever acquire a weapon like that?"

"I don't know," the Spider said wretchedly. "All I know is that we must somehow turn something of the humans' against them . . . but as for what, I do not know . . . ."

"Hey!" Violet's antennae shot up. "Say that again!"

"Say what?" said the Spider. "Say that we need to turn something of the humans' against them?"

"That's it!" Violet cried. "That's it! We can use Aussie!"

Both the Spider and I looked at her blankly.

"Use what?" I said.

"Aussie!" Violet breathed. "She's a dog who lives in the house . . . she comes outside sometimes, though. She's wonderfully stupid. It'd be easy to convince her to fight the humans."

I gasped. Violet was right; I, too, had seen Aussie on occasion. I remembered how her coat was rough and gray, and her eyes were a dull, cloudy brown - undoubtedly she was getting old. Could she really be a potential weapon?

The Spider, however, had no such doubts.

"Mantis," he said quietly to her, "I knew from the beginning that you'd be valuable."

Violet beamed.

"Do you want me to go and find Aussie and bring her here for you, Spider?" she said happily.

"No, your brother will do that."

I stared at him.

"You don't believe me, do you?" said the Spider. He seemed amused. "You doubt yourself too much, mantis. You want to honor Kamala, don't you?"

"Yes . . . but Spider, I still don't think I can do it."

"You are brave and strong, and a better persuader than you think," said the Spider firmly. "You will go."

"But why can't it be you? Or one of the other lieutenants?"

"I must remain here at headquarters, and be a calming presence for the comrades," said the Spider. "Your sister is too headstrong, the grasshopper too narrow-minded, the bee too tongue-tied, the moth too bloodthirsty. You are the right one, Ali. Do this for us. Protect our land. Protect our children."

I then knew that there was no point in arguing.

"All right," I said. "I'll go."