The bag blazed, the fire spread, and wasta-ta boiled from the tree by the thousands.
Alex felt new stings, new explosions, in his neck, his lower back, even his ear. He had no idea he had so many pain receptacles in his neck.
He looked ahead to see how far it was to the entrance to the bowl.
His three friends stood there with thin branches, ready to fend off the wasta-ta if possible.
Alex made it three more steps.
He was stung half a dozen more times.
His body was filled with enough poison that as his heart pumped, it spread throughout his system.
His legs grew heavy, then were completely paralyzed.
Alex Hawk pitched face first onto the ground.
The wasta-ta continued to land and sting him.
Chapter NineHere But Gone
Alex was unable to move his limbs, but he did not immediately lose consciousness.
It felt to him as though he laid there a very long time, an experimental pin cushion for a demented torture master. Explosions of pain continued to wrack his body, but with each one, Alex grew a little more distant from the source. Soon enough, it felt like they were happening to someone else altogether.
Harta-ak watched Alex fall. He sprinted toward him. There was still a small cloud of wasta-ta hovering over Alex.
Harta-ak carried his branch with him. He had hoped to use it to fend off the wasta-ta, but realized how hopeless that idea was. There were too many of them.
Instead, he cast his switch aside and grabbed Alex’s outstretched hand. He braced himself and pulled. He scooted Alex along the ground roughly, heedless of the small rocks and limbs he pulled him over.
He had only moved him a few feet when the first wasta-ta landed on the back of his hand and buried its stinger deep into the fleshy spot between thumb and forefingers. Harta-ah screamed in pain, but did not let go of Alex.
Another wasta-ta landed on his wrist and did the same. Then another, and another.
Still, he did not let go.
Until, that is, Harta-ak’s eyes rolled up into his head and as Alex had done before him, fell to the ground, conscious but paralyzed.
When Alex had first fallen, Senta-eh had shouted, “Stay!” at Monda-ak, then sprinted away, back to their camp. As she ran, she snapped off several more leafy branches and held them together in a bundle. At the camp, she stuck the branches deep into their campfire, thankful it was still burning. The leaves were green and the branches springy and full of life. They did not catch easily.
Patiently, feeling the seconds tick relentlessly away, knowing the damage Alex was absorbing, Senta-eh held the branches in the fire until they finally caught.
She pulled them out and held her breath, hoping they would continue to burn. They did.
She walked back to the entrance as fast as she dared, wanting to make sure the wind did not put the burning branches out.
When she reached the entrance, she said, “Come on!” to Versa-eh and Monda-ak.
That was the command the dog had been waiting for. It rushed to Alex’s side, snapping at the wasta-ta that still circled over him. One by one, he grabbed them in his mouth, crunched them, then reached for another and another. The wasta-ta landed on him but had a hard time penetrating his thick coat. When one landed on his black nose and stung him, the dog whined pitifully, but continued to battle on.
Senta-eh hurried toward the two fallen men. She held the burning, smoking branch in front of her like a shield. Slowly, she stepped forward over Harta-ak’s body. She waved the smoking branches back and forth, pushing the wasta-ta away.
A few of the bees circled around the smoke and one landed on her bicep, stabbing its stinger down. Senta-eh grunted, gritted her teeth, and continued her slow progress. Soon she was standing over Harta-ak’s feet and shouted, “Versa-eh, carry him away! Monda-ak, stay with me.”
She twirled the branches in front of her, creating as much smoke as possible. She stepped forward to Alex’s prone body, where bees continued to swarm him. When she was astride his torso, most of the wasta-ta flew up and away.
“Monda-ak! Take Manta-ak away!”
The dog leaped into action, grabbing Alex by the rope that was still coiled around the scruff of his neck, and pulling him toward the opening.
Step by step, Senta-eh retreated, holding the smoking branches between her and the bees.
Finally, the wasta-ta’s fury was vented and en masse, they turned and flew back toward their burning home.
As the flames grew higher and higher, the buzzing of the bees combined into a single death shriek. It sounded like an eerie siren that raised in pitch and volume until it hurt Monda-ak’s ears and he whined again.
Finally, the tree could not stand and it toppled forward, spilling huge honeycombs, and burning liquid in a spreading pool.
One after another, the wasta-ta flew into the flames and died.
That crisis was over, but another was immediately evident. Senta-eh, Monda-ak, and Versa-eh had all been stung repeatedly and were feeling woozy and unsure on their feet. The three of them were in much better shape than Harta-ak, and he was far better off than Alex.
Senta-eh took command. She pointed at Alex. “You carry him back to the camp. He is smaller and lighter. I will carry Harta-ak.”
“Back to the camp?” Versa-eh asked. “Or on to the stream? Will the cool water help them?”
Senta-eh considered. “I can care better for them at the camp. But for now, yes, the stream will comfort them. Maybe it will wash away some of the poison.”
Versa-eh picked Alex gently up and laid him over her right shoulder. Senta-eh did the same with Harta-ak.
“We can go slowly,” Senta-eh said. “I don’t think a few minutes will make any difference for them. Dropping them could injure them worse.”
Steady and sure, the two women carried their loads to the babbling creek, stopping occasionally to get their breath. At one point, Versa-eh leaned over
