Ant's Fortune It didn’t look like much from the outside. The house looked very plain from the road, being a light gray and artlessly square, set upon the standard beach house stilts. Only two windows watched as they pulled up the sand driveway. A natural wood staircase, on the right side of the house, rose towards a door and then appeared to continue towards a porch on the beachfront side. Phillip wondered if he had made a mistake renting this house as opposed to one more expensive. He climbed the stairs, enjoying the warm salty breeze, and unlocked the door. As he stepped into the house his concern disappeared. “Hey, it’s a lot nicer on the inside.” Vince and Matt followed Phillip inside. “Wow, that’s contrast for ya,” Vince said. “this is really nice.” “Look at this view.” Matt was gazing out the beach side of the house. Large windows running the length of the wall looked out across a huge porch that extended towards white sand dunes, and beautiful blue ocean. The living room, being nicely furnished, and kitchen occupied one large area, and a hallway led to three bedrooms. Everything seemed clean and well kept, although a thick line of ants, like a black rope, crossed the tan linoleum, stretching from a window and disappearing under the refrigerator. Upon closer inspection, Phillip determined the small ants to be of the stinging ‘fire’ variety. The assembly of ants worked feverishly, apparently smuggling a substance, as of yet undetermined, to a nest beyond the window. “Dude, that’s a lot of ants. See what they’re after under the fridge and I’ll see if I can find some spray.” Matt said. Phillip found a flyswatter in a drawer and slid it underneath the refrigerator. Along with a lot of ants, Phillip snagged two halves of a fortune cookie. The cookie was covered with ants that appeared ready to defend their discovery, for they did not scatter and run but almost seemed to rush forward, crowding onto each half. Phillip considered briefly how odd this seemed (maybe fortune cookies were considered quite a delicacy in the ant kingdom), before grinding the ants into the floor with the bottom of his shoe. As if some of the ants had leaped over his foot, Phillip felt something crawling on his leg. He looked down and saw only a pile of crushed ants and cookies though. “Here’s some Raid.” Matt handed Phillip the can. Moving from the refrigerator to the window, Phillip doused the train of ants, and, feeling very pleased with himself, swept the dead into a dustpan. Satisfied the ants were dead, he emptied the tiny carcasses into the trash can. Now everyone could unpack and begin enjoying their vacation. ***** Matt was ripped from a dream by yelling and, instinctively, jumped out of bed. As it was the first night he’d spent in this house he was disoriented, to say the least, and forgot where he was. It was dark, and somebody was screaming. He listened and heard, “Get them off…they’re all over me….ow….it hurts…off…off…quick…”. Matt recognized Phillip’s voice and suddenly came to his senses, remembering where he was, and rushed into the hall. Vince was already opening Phillip’s bedroom door and Matt followed him in, flipping the wall switch. Phillip was lying in bed, eyes closed, yelling. Vince grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him until he opened his eyes. Immediately Phillip jumped up, violently, knocking Vince over. He ripped the covers off himself and started scratching and brushing his body. “Phillip! Phillip! Dude calm down. You were dreaming,” Matt yelled, slow and deliberately. Gradually Phillip calmed down and stopped scratching. He looked at Matt, while Vince picked himself up, quite astonished and confused, still trying to figure it out. “Hey man, we’re at the beach, remember.” Matt laughed. “That must have been one hell of a dream.” One last glance at his legs and realization spread across Phillip’s face. “Holy shit! I’ve never dreamt like that before. Man, that was so real. I felt pain! You’re not supposed to feel pain when you dream.” “Whatever, I’m going back to bed.” Vince said and he left the room. “Yeah, me too. See ya tomorrow, and no more yelling tonight.” Matt said as he went back to his bedroom. ***** “Hey bro, what are those red bumps on your foot. Kinda looks like poison ivy, or mosquito bites.” Vince said. They were lying on the beach, cooking under the sun. “I don’t know.” Phillip sat up and examined his feet, as if he was unaware of the bumps. “Damn, I don’t know. They kind of look like mosquito bites. I just now noticed them.” On cue, the bright red bumps began to itch and burn. “Well, now that I know they’re there I can start enjoying the itching. You shouldn’t have pointed them out.” “Sucks for you. Hey, what was that dream all about last night?” Vince asked. “To tell you the truth, I have no idea. I can’t remember a thing.” Phillip replied. “There’s no way you don’t remember that. You were screaming like a little girl.” Matt said. “Ouch, shit!” A tiny ant was furiously attacking Phillip’s arm. “What?” Matt said. “Just an ant.” ***** Phillip stepped out of the shower and groped for his towel, eyes burning and shut tight, snagged it from the rack, and wiped the soap from his eyes. He began drying himself and a sharp, fiery pain shot across his cheek. Slapping himself in the face, instinctively trying to remove the cause of pain as a person does when stung by bees, he looked in the mirror. Fire ants. There must have been a dozen, viciously biting and stinging his cheeks. While brushing the ants from his face into the sink, he began to feel stinging on other body parts, particularly his feet, which were now covered by the towel he had dropped so hastily. The white towel on the floor was covered with tiny black spots, a swarm of ants, now spilling onto the white tile floor, like someone had spilled black sand. Phillip jumped into the shower and turned on the water. Ants slid off his body and washed down the drain. At first glance, one might think Phillip had dirt all over him, tracked it across the bathroom floor, and was rinsing off. When Phillip was satisfied that all his attackers had drowned, he quickly grabbed the ant covered towel and tossed it into the opposite end of the shower, by the drain. He diverted the water to the bathtub faucet and, after turning the hot water all the way up, rinsed the little fuckers down the drain. There were still ants on the floor, moving in random patterns over the tiles, having absolutely no reason to be there. Phillip stepped quickly across the floor and charged out the door into the hall. ***** “Whoa, dude. That’s not cool. Put some fucking clothes on.” Vince said, quickly looking away. Something was wrong though and Vince cautiously looked back as Phillip turned into his bedroom. “Holy shit! What happened man? You’ve got red marks all over your back.” Vince walked into the bathroom. The water was running and the bathtub was filling up because a white towel clogged the drain, but everything else looked normal. He unplugged the drain, glancing at the clear water, and dropped the sopping towel on the floor. “Where’s that can of Raid?” Phillip was yelling from his bedroom, hopefully while getting dressed. “I’m just going to spray the fuckers and then I’ll mop them up. Be careful, don’t walk in there. They’ll bite the shit out of you. I’m going to call the real estate company and have a word with them about this, and they better send a goddamn exterminator out here now!” “Dude, what the hell are you talking about?” Vince yelled back. Phillip walked into the bathroom, looking exhausted, like he’d just run ten miles on the beach in ninety-degree weather without any sunscreen, and obviously furious. However, it was apparent his anger was directed towards something of which he was frightened. His face was bright red and splotchy, and being shirtless, Vince could see that his torso was the same. “All of the ants, dumbas-…” Phillip was back in the bathroom gawking at the floor. He looked like he had seen somebody drive a Ferrari into the bathroom and park it there, only to have vanished while he was changing in his bedroom. In that moment, the inexplicable degree of confusion plastered on his face, Vince was convinced it was time to take a little trip to the loony bin. And then Phillip was on hands and knees, looking behind the toilet, under cabinets, in cabinets, throwing aside the bathmat, scraping the shower floor with his hands. He grabbed the towel and shook it and spread it on the floor and examined both sides. “Man, this bathroom was covered in ants just a minute ago,” Phillip turned to Vince and pronounced, as if he couldn’t possibly be mistaken, with complete and total sincerity. Vince was not sure if Phillip was lucid. “What are you talking about? I don’t see a single ant. Just calm down, you’re acting kinda crazy.” “Where the hell did all these bite marks come from then?” Phillip said, with that crazy look again, pointing at himself. He looked like he had the measles. “Okay, okay, calm down. I believe you.” And Vince did believe him. There was nothing else that could explain the bite marks, other than a swarm of bees, and Vince considered ants a more viable explanation. Vince studied the tiles, although pointless considering Phillip’s inspection, for cracks the ants might have escaped through. The idea was ludicrous and Vince had to suppress laughter, knowing that Phillip considered this no laughing matter. Then Vince felt something sting his foot. He knew it was an ant before looking and brushed it off. There was one more ant, which he stepped on, but that was all. “Where’d those come from? What kind of ants are these, invisible ones?” Vince said. “See, I told you.” ***** “You guys are crazy. What in the hell are you talking about?” Matt called from the kitchen. “Come check out what I found on the kitchen floor. It’s kind of funny…Holy shit, what happened to you?” Matt said as Phillip walked into the room. “Ants, in the shower. Disappearing ants apparently,” Phillip said. Matt looked at Vince for clarification. Vince shrugged and held out his hands. “Don’t look at me. Those are ant bites all over him,” Vince said. “So, what did you find?” Phillip asked. “Oh, check it out,” Matt, still looking shaken by Phillip’s appearance (he looked horrible) handed Phillip a short, thin piece of white paper. “I found it near the fridge just a minute ago. It must be from that fortune cookie that was covered with ants yesterday.” The man that takes the life of another living creature needlessly shall suffer the consequences deemed fit by its spirit.’ “Oh, that’s real funny alright. I guess I’m being attacked by ghost ants now – night of the living dead ants. I’m going to go drink some beer out on the porch.” Phillip tossed the paper into the trash and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator. He planned on drinking until he could no longer feel pain from the bites. It was early evening and the setting sun’s fleeting rays reflected off the clouds in brilliant orange and red. The ocean breeze felt good, cooling Phillip’s burning body. He sat in a lounge chair and laid back, enjoying the cold beer, and steadily growing drowsy. Dazed, mind blank and no worries, all thoughts of ants erased, Phillip took his last sip of beer. The sensation slowly brought Phillip back. Something other than liquid was in his mouth. Sand, it was sand. Sand pouring between his teeth and under his tongue, between his cheeks and gums. He must have swallowed some, because he could feel the grit slide down his throat. Then a thousand needles stabbed Phillip’s tongue and Drano poured down his throat and coated his stomach. Phillip, still clutching the beer, felt fire on his hand and saw a line of ants climbing the side of the bottle. The beer fell onto the deck and so did Phillip. He climbed to his knees, spitting ants from his mouth and watching them land on the wood in big clumps. With one hand he scraped the inside of his mouth and smeared ants onto the porch. The pain was unbearable and he cried out between coughs and gags. He could feel them writhing in his throat, tearing it apart, like heartburn from battery acid, and sliding into his stomach. Phillip could feel his tongue slowly swelling as he spit up blood. “Hep…Hep. Maa, Viiii. Heeeeeeeeeeepppppppp!” Phillip could barely speak now, his tongue engorged, poison coursing through his mouth. He struggled to his feet. Vince and Matt rushed out onto the porch. “Holy fucking shit man,” Vince started, and Phillip spit up more blood. “Matt, go call 911 quick….no fuck 911, that’ll take too long. Let’s get him in the car.” “There isn’t a hospital on this island and I have no idea where one is around here,” Matt said. “How bad is it man, you gonna be alright for a minute?” “Caa bree, Caa breeee,” Phillip gasped. “Wha……..?” Matt said “He can’t fucking breath. Holy shit. Pick him up and take him to the car and I’ll call 911 on my cell phone!” The words were fading, as was the world. Bright metallic spots flashed across Phillip’s eyes and in his last coherent thoughts his mind drifted back to the fortune cookie and he realized he was going to die. Killed by ants.
Copyright © 2002 Michael S Upchurch |