Heretical Fishing

Book 2: Chapter 38: Bill

I beamed at the pelican on the sand before me. The sun was entirely over the horizon now, lighting his feathers from behind and giving him an almost holy appearance.

I licked my lips.

“How do you feel about the name—”

“Fischer!” came a booming voice from somewhere behind me.

“Fischer!” a much more beautiful voice called, and I turned, raising an eyebrow.

“Over here!” I yelled back. A moment later, a small army came running from either side of the headland.

The entire fishing club, along with every member of the cult I was aware of, came sprinting into view. There were newcomers present too, and I narrowed my eyes at them.

“You four!”

Fergus, Duncan, Brad, and Greg all froze, their eyes going wide.

“Are you okay? Is anyone hurt? We heard a series of blasts...”

“Oh, that?” I waved his concern away with one hand. “Rocky threw a bit of a hissy fit after my new pelican pal dropped a boulder on his head from like a kilometer up. You should have seen it.”

Barry’s eyes drifted to the crab’s lifeless form.

“Is... is he dead?”

I laughed.

“Unfortunately, no. He exhausted himself with all those blasts and is having a little crab nap.” I stood and brushed my pants off. “Now that you’re all here, I suppose we should do some introductions.”

I pointed at Ruby and Steven.

“I knew you two had joined the cult—”

“Church,” Barry corrected.

“Whatever, man. I knew you two had joined, but you four...” I trailed off, raising an eyebrow at the smiths and the woodworkers. “When did that happen?”

Brad crossed his arms and gave me a grin.

“We don’t recall, do we Greg?”

“Not even a little,” his brother answered, scratching his inner-ear before inspecting a fingernail.

Fergus rubbed the back of his head.

“Er, it’s been a few days for us. Sorry, Fischer.”

“You don’t need to apologize, mate. Let me guess, though… those other jobs you had that needed all the metal—those were for your oyster cages, Barry?”

He raised a finger and opened his mouth to protest, then let out a sigh.

“Your desire to be kept out of the loop doesn’t work if you keep coming to the correct conclusions, Fischer.”

I nodded, grimacing.

“Yeahhh. If it makes you feel any better, I annoy myself, too.”

I put my hands on my hips and looked out at the rising sun for a moment.

“Ah well, nothing to be done about it now, I suppose. Have you guys met all of my animal pals?” I asked, looking between the newcomers.

“Everyone but the pelican…”

“Huh. That makes things easy, I guess.”

“What’s her name?” Barry asked.

“Mate, did you just assume Warrant Officer Williams’ gender? He’s a bloke.”

“But… there’s an egg on the sand…”

I turned to the pelican.

“Sorry about that—Barry’s a good fella, but he’s not very woke.”

Barry frowned, then attempted to forge past his faux pas.

“Fischer, if you're going to choose ridiculous names like Snips and Claws, can you at least stay consistent?”

My lips formed a line as I did my best to keep my face neutral.

“What do you mean? I did stay consistent. Army rank and alliteration—what else are you looking for?”

“You named him Williams! How is that anything like Snips or Claws?”

“Because, Barry..." I beamed a grin at him. "His name is Warrant Officer Williams—or Bill, for short.”

Barry put his head in his hands as I cackled with laughter. A few giggles, laughs, and even a few groans came from the crowd—the groans were my favorite.

“... Bill?” Barry looked at the massive sea bird and shook his head in misplaced commiseration. “I’m so sorry about the name—Fischer is notoriously terrible at them.”

“Hey! I choose the best names, thank you very much!”

I cocked my head at Bill.

“I just realized I didn’t introduce everyone—how rude of me.”

I quickly ran through the names of everyone present, making sure to enunciate the names of my animal pals—all of which were definitely good names and not terrible, thank you very much—with the requisite amount of grandiosity.

“You like the name, don’t you?” I asked Bill. “All jokes aside, if you don’t like it, we choose another.”

Bill had been slowly backing away since the crowd arrived, but the longer our conversation dragged on, the more comfortable he seemed to become. At my question, he paused, once more taking his time to consider.

***

Warrant Officer Williams—Bill—pondered the name.

It seemed to fit with the other animals, and something about it was… right. He puffed out his feathers, stood to his full height, and stretched his wings as wide as they would go. With his increased size, his wingspan cast a vast shadow that covered much of the shore.

He let out a deep, rumbling grunt, broadcasting his approval out into the world.

***

Some may have found the noise coming from Bill terrifying. It was guttural, like the sound you’d expect to hear from a creature of Hades, not from a large bird with pretty feathers. I was not most men, however; I found the sound comforting, especially considering the meaning it held.

Bill approved of his name.

“Well, there you have it, Barry.” I pouted and raised my nose at him. “Some people—and pelicans—have good taste.”

Barry rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I’m glad you’re all right, but this is not how I expected this morning to go.”

“Nothing wrong with a happy little accident, mate. Bob Ross would be proud.”

“Who?” Maria asked, shooting me a glance as she crept toward Bill.

I smiled at her and her obvious intentions—she was angling to give him a good scritching.

“Bob Ross was a world-renowned artist where I’m from. He was as good a bloke as he was a painter. Anywho, look at me blabbering on...”

I cast my gaze over everyone present, creatures and humans both.

“What do you say we have a little feast to celebrate our new friend’s awakening? I know you guys are part of the cult or church or whatever now, so there’s no reason we can’t have a good potluck.”

My words painted confusion over a lot of the faces, but the eyes of those present at the first feast lit up.

***

Time stretched on at an agonizing pace for the bumblebee.

Though his own pain was slowly receding before the blessed sweetness of his royal jelly, the queen had yet to show improvement. She still drank of his creation, yet her consumption had slowed. When he finished the cell he was drinking from, he stumbled over to her, his legs sluggish but working properly once more.

Following an impulse that came from somewhere unknown, he rubbed her thorax in what he believed was a reassuring way. The tiny hairs covering her body were soft beneath his barbed feet, and he stroked her slowly, willing her to recover. Against all hope, she seemed to drink deeper. Her legs started to tremble, which he also took as a good sign.

He buzzed to her other side, and his hopes died; the hole in her abdomen was a vicious thing. The stinger hadn’t plunged in and out cleanly, and had torn free of her exoskeleton at an angle, leaving a ripped and oozing hole. Her legs trembled as she made to stand. He tried to hold her down, to keep her still, all the while stroking her back.

An odd sensation blossomed from outside of his body, similar to what he’d felt prior to awakening.

Before he could question it, his world was engulfed by a bright white light, and a loud pop came from the queen, stunning him.

***

The thought patterns of a honeybee queen are more complicated than most would suspect.

It is easy for a human to look at an insect with a brain the size of a poppy seed and presume that there isn’t a whole bunch going on within. That presumption, as with many of the deductions produced by the average human’s conceit, is wrong. Even worker honeybees, who are hive members denoted by their hard work and low position, have the critical thinking abilities to solve a startling range of problems that might arise.

Given all this, the queen of the honeybees was quite aware of the predicament she was in. Her hive had been invaded, her defenders had been slaughtered, and she had been abducted. When the strange bumblebee had entered her chamber, she hadn’t thought for a moment that he was doing it for her. He was an opportunist coming to steal her hive’s lifeblood. If anything, that made him worse than the parasitic hornets, who at least had the gall to initiate the attack.

But then the bumblebee had defended her, receiving a potentially fatal wound as a result. The moments following that were a confusing blur to her. Hornet venom ran through her body, causing her synapses to misfire, her body to twitch, and her consciousness to wane.

The next thing she’d known, she was flying, but not by her own ability. The bumblebee, that strange insect whose actions made little sense, was carrying her. It was a short flight, and after he dragged her into a dark room, she knew her end was coming. She tried to gather the strength to sting the bumblebee, to finish him off so she could return to her hive and recover, but the venom had well and truly taken control by that point.

Suddenly, her face dropped into something sweet. Not just sweet—the most delicious substance she had ever tasted. Whatever the bumblebee’s plans were, he had made a fatal mistake. She would drink of this boon, recover her strength, and then she would kill him. His honey would be used to rebuild her hive before the workers could raise another queen. One sip at a time, the queen bee drained the comb before her.

Part of her awareness returned as her body digested the viscous liquid entering her stomach. With that awareness came pain. The only benefit of the venom waging war on her nervous system was that it numbed her, and with her body sufficiently fueled and fighting off the toxins raging through her, lines of agony ran through her.

The worst of the damage was where a hornet had lanced her with its stinger. Waves of pain radiated from the hole left behind in her exoskeleton, and she began to doubt if she would live through the damage. An odd tingling came from her thorax, and she directed her attention there. The bumblebee was beside her, running a leg through the small hairs of her back.

Good—if her strength returned, it was within striking distance of her deadly stinger. With a bolstered sense of purpose, she drank deeper through her proboscis, her body never seeming to tire of the delicious jelly.

Then, all at once, her world was engulfed by white.

***

When the queen’s vision returned, the world had transformed.

The space she found herself in had shrunk, and her wings buzzed with curiosity. She noticed for the first time that she was within an entirely alien environment. There were wooden racks hanging down from above, running in parallel to one another. Everything around her, including the wall, were all sharp corners and flat surfaces, making it a decidedly unnatural creation.

Information seemed to stream into her mind: the strange hive was made by... a creature. The name for it escaped her, so she returned her attention outwards. There was a row of honeycomb lining the floor; they were not made by honeybees.

In an instant, she remembered where she was. She whirled, her wings buzzing to spin her as fast as possible. She prepared for an attack by moving venom down toward the tip of her stinger, but no attack came. Then she spotted the bumblebee—well, part of it, anyway.

***

The bumblebee was content watching from afar.

After recovering from the flash of white light, he had retreated immediately, not wanting the queen to attack. The wound at her side had completely healed, and as with his own awakening—which he was certain the queen had just experienced—her body had transformed. Her form was even larger, her wings had grown longer, and the stinger at the end of her abdomen was downright horrifying. It had doubled in length and become even smoother, tapering down to the needlelike tip that could inject venom.

After a long wait, the queen bee finally stirred. Her body twitched at first, but then she got to her feet and gazed around, her antennae tasting the air as she moved her head. He witnessed the moment she remembered his existence; she whirled on the spot with terrifying speed, scanning the hive for him. He leaned backward subconsciously, not wanting to pose a threat.

When she spotted him, he didn’t know how to react. Feeling more awkward than he knew he could, the bumblebee lowered a leg into view and wiggled it around.

***

The queen honeybee watched the bumblebee with growing hesitation.

The atypical insect was peeking down from the furthest away rack, only visible up to its compound eyes. One of its foremost legs dropped into view. She prepared herself, thinking it might be making its move finally, but then it just shook the appendage back and forth. Flashes of the gesture ran through her mind, gleaned from the knowledge still pouring into her.

It was a wave—a gesture of greeting. The queen raised her own foreleg and waved back, not entirely understanding why she felt obligated to do so.