Book One: A Storm of Glass and Ashes

Chapter Twenty: Ants Go Marching

The gleaming shape took off, wings glistening in the remnants of emergency lighting. Hawk only got the barest of outlines...but it was enough. She knew that anatomy. "Fuck." She whispered.

Alex, eyes widening, said, "Wait, Honey, don't—"

She took off. There were threats and there were threats, and what she'd just seen activated emergency response instincts she hadn't known she had. I need a cup, she thought. What she'd seen seemed to be about the size of her palm, so it'd need to be a big cup. The first employee station didn't yield anything useful. The second one, nearest the door, held a large gas station cup. Some piece of Marvel movie tie-in swag. Too bad it wasn't Spider-Man. It held about an inch of liquid in it. She dumped this out quickly, yanked the straw from the lid, and grabbed a piece of laminate plastic, slowly shedding squares of organic paper ash.

And then she raced outside. Please still be there. Be where I can get you. Please, oh please, stay where I can find you.

A glint of movement in the sidewalk brought her eyes down, and there was the shape she'd seen, alright, an insectile shadow with two pairs of cellophane wings. It moved delicately, the antennae on its head moving back and forth as it felt over each plant. Enormous mandibles crushed their way through the remnants of grass. Two large compound eyes scanned the world, as did the small trio of eyes, the ocili, centered in its forehead. Six legs attached to the mesoma, the trunk, and then the petiole joining thorax to gaster. It was an ant, and it was winged and the size of Hawk's palm.

Mandibles were in proportion to its head; it was a female. And as Hawk watched, horrified and thrilled in the same moment, the female alate reached back with two long and lovely legs, and snapped off the first of its four wings.

Alex, who had followed her, said, "Oh, holy shit. That's bad, isn't it?"

"What's..." Em's voice, which immediately trailed off. "That's the size of a fucking pigeon. Why is there a Queen ant the size of a fucking pigeon?"

It didn't race away as Hawk approached, cup in one hand. Nor did it make any effort to dodge as she brought the cup down. If anything, it stepped forward, making it easier to capture. A little maneuvering with the piece of stiff plastic file cover she'd taken, and then she could put the lid on and look.

It was exquisite, a gorgeous blend of gold and blue and red on its carapace. It seemed almost gilded. Small gold hairs decorated the gaster, and as she watched, it snapped off another wing.

"Okay." Alex said, as he stared at his wife with the cup. "Is that an ant?"

"Yes." She said. No hesitation.

"It's the size of a fucking kitten, Hawk." He said.

"And it's an alate that is snapping off its wings. Which means somewhere nearby there's a whole nest of these things, and it's having a nuptial flight. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit."

"So what? The energy is changing the ants, too?" Alex said.

But Dyson and Em looked equally pale. "Let me see that," Dyson said. Hawk handed over the drink cup. The ant inside was busying itself with its own wings, bringing up its legs in an attempt to snap them off entirely. He turned even paler. "There's never just one, is there?"

"Hawk. I don't get why you three look like you're about to vomit. Explain." Alex said.

"It's a queen ant snapping its wings off. Alex, you've been with me during Anting season often enough to know what that means." She waited. He still looked confused. "It's a fertile Queen, Alex. Fertile. And it's the size of a small bird."