Insecticide, Part IV: Evolution

I apologize for the delay in posting. I know you’ve all been worried about me, but I assure you I’m alive and well. The bugs haven’t gotten me yet.

I didn’t have Internet access all week due to the fact that we’ve pretty much remained mobile since my last post. A roving band of bugslayers, if you will. I haven’t found a base of operations per se, but we’ve made our motorcade into a fortress of sorts. In light of the absence of a head-shaved Matthew McConaughey, we have unanimously agreed to posthumously promote Basil Poledouris to the rank of general.

Anyway, we finally set up our new compound in what used to be a Goodwill, before the bugs attacked the city. We’ve got sentries, we’ve got foodstuffs, we’ve got ammo, we’ve got wifi.

In the back, we have a network of narrow hallways, which are now essentially dark tunnels of bad lighting and impromptu wiring. We take shifts, and mine was early this morning. We patrol the premesis in pairs, part of our “buddy system.” It was me and this other dude whose name I forgot… and that was a bad sign for him from the beginning. It’s dangerous to ally yourself with me because I’m bad with names, so he became another redshirt. So it should come as no surprise to you that he was dragged off in the middle of the night.

It seems that every single breed of bug has grown tremendously in size. Even some the ants are the size of cell phones now. There are still regular-sized bugs, and the Tiny Mosquitoes retain their namesake, but man. August in Texas is a bitch! The bugs are huge!

As I was running out of ammo, my aerosol flamethrower being my last, dwindling line of defense, the fight was lost when I watched what’s-his-name get dragged away, screaming. Gods only know what they did to him.

Sweating beads and lit only by James Cameron Blue (it’s a real color, look it up), I had to fall back to a side passage where I could raise the alarm and rouse the others from the barracks. Nearly seized by terror, I slowly stalked back through the tunnel to the way I came, jumping at shadows, holding my breath.

A man-sized bug of an unknown type crashed through the wall and roared at me. I unloaded searing fire into its mandibles before it knocked me down and I dropped my flamethrower. As it screeched and struggled to finish burrowing through the wall and into the tunnel, I was able to grab a metal handrail, snap it off, and use it as a shiv. I hacked away at the monster’s open mouth, grunting in rage, my shoulder muscles screaming in protest.

When finally the beast was still and silent, I dropped the shiv to catch my breath. I lost track of how many dozens of times I had struck the bug, but I was relieved and pleased to see its face leaking yellow ooze all over the wall.

I retrieved my flamethrower, made my way to the alarm, and waited for backup. Within moments, the compound was teeming with gun-toting bugslayers, but it was too late. The bugs had retreated.

They had actually retreated.

They were looking for something. And I think stumbling across me and… um, that one guy… was an accident, not part of their purpose there.

We carefully transported the remains of the Boss Bug to the lab. I took a shower and a nap, had a hot meal and a cup of coffee, and got online to blog about it.

They’ve been doing experiments and analyses all day in the lab. I guess another team had reported sightings of a similar bug that apparently had some sort of command over the lesser bugs. We had a new piece to the puzzle in figuring out the bug hierarchy.

But the real menace remains unseen…

The bugs keep getting smarter. They learn from our tactics and develop their own counters to our every move. We have to stay one step ahead, keep adapting before they do. We have to win.

We will win.