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Texas Fire Ants

by Doug Hiser

Table of Contents
Part 1 appears
in this issue.

The girl didn’t scream when I removed the tape. She stared at me like I was Satan or God or something. She made me want to fill her with pleasure and pain. I didn’t want to go up and see what Larry wanted so I shouted back, “What is it?”

He yelled, “Hurry up, we got company coming!”

I took the steps two at a time and bumped into Larry as I emerged from the bomb shelter. He said excitedly, “Cops... look at all the pigs!”

I didn’t even reply and I knew running was useless, either we got arrested right now or we try to fight our way free. I didn’t even hesitate. I wasn’t giving up my new girlfriend without a fight. I grabbed Larry by the arm and we ran into the barn. I picked up the Gatling gun and loaded the shells, mounting it on the back of a wooden trailer. I loaded the rifles next and put them on the ground nearby. I gave Larry a grenade launcher and said, “Load and take aim. We gotta’ protect your property!”

The cops were entering the pasture, trudging through the mud, when they spotted us and began shouting and pointing. I saw three men in suits and black coats and about ten or more uniformed officers. Larry laughed and squeezed the trigger of the grenade launcher. A blast of smoke curled up around us and the grenade was propelled towards the cops. I swung the Gatling gun and leveled the rotating barrel at the approaching men. The grenade Larry launched shot over the cops’ heads and struck his trailer house. The flimsy piece of tin and fake wood blew apart like a firecracker in a frog’s belly. Larry muttered slowly, “Holy shit... I just blew up my own house.”

I slapped him on the back and said, “Try again, the cops are still coming, besides think about how many little fire ants you just burned to a crisp!”

The cops flinched and fell to the ground when Larry’s trailer house exploded but got right back up and charged again. They didn’t have a choice since there was nowhere to hide or take cover. I knew that it was too bad for them because I smashed the trigger down on the Gatling machine gun and began cranking the handle. Giant splashes of water and mud splattered up with each bullet as I fired at them. I heard some screams and I knew I was connecting. The cops dove for the ground and the men in the suits jumped face down in the muddy pasture. I heard bullets flying past us, striking the barn and the dirt.

I kept cranking the bullets out of the rapidly firing Gatling gun and I saw cops getting hit and lying still in puddles of water and mud. I imagined the water turning red. I was smiling as I felt a charge of power flow through me as I kept blasting bullets into the cops. Larry fired another grenade and once again shot too far. This time the grenade hit on of the cop’s cars. The siren blared as it exploded into white and blue metal. One of the car’s doors flew fifty feet into the air and landed with a crunching thump on a detective in a black suit.

Larry shouted, “Cool! I got one, Gordon!”

He thrust his fist into the air whooping just as a bullet split his forehead in half. Larry dropped the grenade launcher and stood there, blood pouring from his wrecked head onto his chest. I looked at him and stopped firing for a second. His left eye was looking right at me and his right eye was staring up in the sky. His skull was torn apart and he no longer had a forehead. Larry’s mouth was moving and he was still talking, saying, “Gordon, Gordon, where did you go? I got one, didn’t I? I got one? Gordon, where is my head?”

Larry reached up flailing his hands, searching for his head. His hand reached between his eyes and found the split open skull. He reached into his broken skull and grabbed a handful of his own brain, saying, “I feel sick, Gordon.”

I watched him stand there, covered in his own blood, pulling his brain out of his skull as he said, “I feel sick... sick.”

Larry fell over, face first, his right hand clutching his own brain, a bloody mass of purple and red and brown. I watched him fall and then looked up to see the cops crawling towards me. They had started to fire more and bullets zinged all around me. I lowered the Gatling gun’s barrel and cranked furiously, blasting up mud splatters and blood as more cops were hit. One of the detectives in a mud-covered suit produced a blow-horn and shouted, “Surrender! Give up now! This is... ”

He never finished as machine gun bullets ripped straight into the blow-horn exploding his mouth and face. I cranked the Gatling gun until the barrel spun with a whirring sound, all the bullets gone. I picked up two rifles and climbed on top of the barn. As I pulled myself up as I felt a bullet strike my left leg, below my knee. It felt like a searing hot knife stabbing into my calf muscle. It felt like a gargantuan fire ant sting. Lying flat on the tin roof I took aim and began firing at the cops.

Aiming at the cops, I imagined them as evil fire ants and I was their destroyer, obliterating them, one at a time. I slowed my shots down and searched for the Queen fire ant. I knew if I could kill the Queen fire ant the mound would die. The pain in my leg throbbed. I was breathing hard and I fired a shot, shattering a cop’s foot. He screamed in pain. I stopped firing and wondered where the cows had gone. I looked around the pasture and saw one of the cows lying in the mud, blood pouring from its neck. I knew ants were already moving in for the feast. That’s when I realized that those little red bastards were probably already having a buffet on Larry’s brains.

I slid down the back of the barn and fell hard on the ground. Landing on my wounded leg brought a lightning flash of pain into me. I had to curl up and clench my teeth to keep from blacking out. I crawled like a caterpillar to the feed box and slithered down the steps, leaving a trail of blood behind me.

The gunfire had stopped and I guessed the cops would be moving forward as soon as they figured out I wasn’t taking aim on them. I heard sirens and knew the cavalry was on its way. They probably called out the National Guard and the SWAT team. I went down into the bomb shelter to check on my girlfriend. I knew I could hold them off down here. The cops would never be able to blow up or penetrate a bomb shelter. The girl on the bed looked at me with her big eyes as I entered, dragging my wounded leg. She strained at the ropes and said, “Let me go. You don’t need me any more. You need to get to the hospital. Your leg is bleeding.”

I didn’t care about my leg right now but it did hurt like hell. I put the rifle in the corner near the door and approached her. Pulling out my survival knife from the leg holster, I put my finger to my lips and whispered, “I don’t need the hospital. I need to get acquainted with my girlfriend. What’s your name?”

She stared at the big knife and replied, “Sara.”

I smiled and said, “I’m not gonna’ cut you Sara, I’m just gonna’ make you a little more comfortable.”

She gasped and pulled her arms and legs tight as I bent down and began cutting her clothes from her body. Sara whimpered and started to cry. I thought she was beautiful and I thanked my dead friend Larry for finding me such a pretty girlfriend. I cut her black panties from her and then poised the knife above her bra and said, “Sara, you are so beautiful. I’m a lucky guy.”

I slipped the cold blade between her skin and the bra and with a quick cut the material separated and her full breasts came into view. I heard the cops shouting to each other outside but I ignored them, concentrating on the sight of Sara naked, waiting on me to thrill her. Her whimpers sounded like a mourning dove cooing at dawn. I put the knife back in the leg holster and stood back admiring my girlfriend. She pleaded with me, saying, “Let me go, please. Please, don’t hurt me.”

I replied, “Oh, don’t worry. I love you, Sara. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the Queen of my colony. We are gonna’... ”

Suddenly the door at the top of the bomb shelter crashed inward. With my pants down around my ankles I jumped for the rifles. Cops crashed down into the room and just as my hand closed on the rifle I heard them shout, “Get down on the floor! Now! Down! Down!”

I ignored their orders and pulled the rifle up. The impact of the bullet at such close range exploded into my right shoulder. I didn’t feel pain but the force took me into the wall. I slid down the wall and dropped the rifle. The cops swarmed all over me like hungry red fire ants. They grabbed my arms and my legs, roughly shoved my face into the floor, and secured handcuffs on me. I felt bare metal clasping like robot claws into the skin of my wrists.

The cops were shouting but I didn’t listen. I turned to look at Sara as they covered her beautiful body with a jacket and released her from the bonds securing her to the bed. They rushed Sara past me and up the stairs. They took my knife. I grimaced because it had been a gift from my grandfather, Lord bless his departed soul. The cops dragged me up the stairs and past Larry’s body. I looked and saw smoke pouring into the air from Larry’s blown-up trailer house. The last thing I saw was that dead cow as they pushed me forward into a police van. I missed my girlfriend already. I thought about that cow with ants feasting all over it. That one dead cow would feed millions, maybe even zillions of ants... all because of me.

Fire ants approaching dead cow.

Copyright © 2005 by Doug Hiser

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