by SD Powell AKA Buck Dodds
Winner, 2024 Writers Advice Flash Fiction Contest
Illustration by Buck Dodds
“I think we’re lost,” he said.
It was out of character for him to lie on a Sunday, especially after mass. But it was worth a trip to the confessional, an irritated wife—even car repairs. The sinful deception designed to end his nagging curiosity took months to plan. In front of him, the road stretched straight for miles. Perfectly spaced trees looked like pawns on an infinite chess board.
“You’ve been getting us lost for years, you old coot,” Rose said, as if she were telling him where he left his shoes again. She looked out the window at the rows of trees, all the same size. “I think we’re in the experimental orchard.” She pointed a crooked finger towards the passenger window. “I saw a sign a while back.”
Tires whispered over desolate pavement. The polleny scent of the blossoms calmed him.
“Hey, Rose, look at that.” He leaned forward and pointed at something stuck on the windshield.
“What? A bug?” She rolled her eyes and her eyelids fluttered. His myopic focus was driving them into the ditch. She grabbed the dashboard. “Watch the road, Ira.”
He swerved back to the center of his lane. Rose’s shoulders and head swooped in a gentle semi-circle.
“Not just a bug. I think it’s a bee.” A hint of glee showed beneath the surface of Ira’s weathered face. He leaned forward to look at the windshield again. “See? There’s part of its wing, and some of its abdomen.”
“Watch the road, old man!” Rose said, but curiosity drew her in. “A bee? I haven’t seen a bee in—I don’t know how long.”
His smile blossomed, deeply lining his freckled cheeks. “It’s a bee.”
“How can you tell? It looks like snot with a few bits flapping about.” She looked closer, aligning her bifocals. “I think you’re right, honey. Wow, a real one.”
“Look, there’s more.” Kack! A small winged creature hit their windshield and left a star-shaped crack. Springs and bits of wing shimmered in the sunlight. “Damned robees!”
“Well, you engineered them, dear,” Rose sighed. “Why did you bring us here? Did you miss them?”
Ira’s held back his bark and growled his reply. “I wanted to see if they messed with ’em.”
“Oh? What did you—” Another suicidal, metallic bee pockmarked Rose’s side of the windshield. She flinched.
“Yeah, look,” Ira said, pointing his shaky finger at the shiny corpse. “They engineered a protector drone.” The muscles in his jaw pulsed and tensed. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“Some kind of kamikaze bee?”
Ira ignored her and mumbled, “Damned military.” He hit the brakes and made a U-turn. “Okay, I’ve seen enough of this horse shit.”