Survivors

By Howie Snider

Young Thorna has a plan to save her colony in Eastern Hymenoptera and its wise, old ruler, Queen En, from an impending attack from tyrannical Emperor Dume and his dangerous allies. Thorna is no ordinary warrior. She is a six-inch-tall brown ant who has, along with neighboring beetles, spiders, and other creatures, evolved into an intelligent being. Author Howie Snider takes readers into the world of Kingdom Atlas, a land once occupied by billions of humans and now overrun by loyal ants, frightening beetles, courageous grasshoppers, peace-loving spiders and other fascinating insects who fight to survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 9, 2012
• ISBN: 9781456763930

Howie Snider

Insects fascinated Howie SNIDER when he and his late wife, Judy, were avid gardeners and bird-watchers at their Muncie, Indiana home, where they raised eight children. Passionate about reading and writing, Howie began creating children’s books for his 26 grandchildren in the 1990s. A retired Marine Corps officer, award-winning college instructor, and restaurant owner, Howie still enjoys traveling with family in the motor home he and his wife enjoyed until her death in 2007. Howie’s family was featured in the 1982 Middletown film and recently released DVD, Family Business. This is his first novel.

Book preview

© 2012 Howie Snider. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 03/30/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4490-2010-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4490-2011-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-6393-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011916278

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Kingdom Atlas

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-three

Chapter Thirty-four

Chapter Thirty-five

Epilogue

Dedication

I dedicate this book to my late wife, Judy, who supported me in everything I did.

I also dedicate it to my son, Leslie, who believed this book should be published, and to my son, Lyn, who designed the cover.

I also dedicate it to my son, Lee, for his critical review, and my grandson, Caleb New, who told me to keep writing.

But a special dedication to my daughter, Liz, whose thorough editing improved this work.

Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory there is no survival.

— Winston Churchill (May 13, 1940)

Kingdom Atlas

Eastern Hymenoptera

Ruler: Queen En

Residents: Brown ants

Western Hymenoptera

Ruler: Holak

Residents: Carpenter ants

Northern Hymenoptera

Ruler: Queen Sola

Residents: Fire ants

Coleoptera

Ruler: Emperor Dume

Residents: Beetles

Hemiptera

Ruler: Unknown

Residents: True bugs

Odonata

Ruler: Unknown

Residents: Dragonflies

Lepidoptera

Ruler: Unknown

Residents: Butterflies

Isoptera

Ruler: Queen Woda

Residents: Termites

Aranea

Ruler: King Spitz

Residents: Spiders

Mantodea

Ruler: Queen Ophia

Residents: Mantises

Orthoptera

Ruler: King Hopher

Residents: Grasshoppers and crickets

Blattodea

Ruler: Unknown

Residents: Cockroaches

Prologue

In the Beginning

The eighty-year-old man still kept his diary, even though he realized it was likely that no one would ever read it. If, however, someone should read it, what difference would it make? His personal information wasn’t of much interest, and his entries concerning the world around him were of such stuff that was common knowledge. Times were bad and getting worse, much worse. There were reports of wars everywhere. Natural resources were diminishing and soon would be gone. Global warming had increased and so had the number and severity of natural disasters. Pestilence and disease were doing their deadly thing. The world is coming to an end, he thought. We have caused our own extinction.

He sat in the messy kitchen of a small house on the northern outskirts of a city that had once been home to a thriving university. He had taught at the university and had become a noted expert on environmental issues. Unfortunately, however, his opinions, though talked about, were never taken seriously enough until it was too late to avoid what was happening to the world.

It’s awful, he said aloud, as he opened the diary. I told them this would happen. What a shame.

His voice caused a stir of activity. A group of ants came into the kitchen and watched the old man.

He was mildly delirious as he nervously wrote the daily information into the diary, commenting haphazardly on the conditions of the deserted neighborhood. Twice, he looked up with a strained look on his face. He finished the entry with a note that he wasn’t feeling well. He closed the diary, took a deep breath, and stood. A very large ant was crossing the kitchen floor. He saw it and tried to stomp it, but the ant was too quick and quickly crawled behind the main cabinet. The others scurried off. Where do they come from? the old man thought.

The ants had listened carefully. In the past decade, their tympanal hearing had begun a slow evolution. They were memorizing human sounds and what they meant. It was very slow using their antennae to convey this information to other ants, but convey it they did.

Other higher species of insects and spiders were in the same evolution, developing their hearing and memory. Already, their increased awareness of human language had kept many of them from being eliminated. And they were learning more about the world and what was happening to it. The ant behind the cabinet, however, was far superior to the others. Using the language he was learning, he verbalized unto himself: Give … us … time. Then he tried saying it by moving his labia like human lips, but he wasn’t successful. Give … me … time.

The old man looked out the kitchen window. The sun was sinking fast. He went to the front door and went outside to watch the sunset. As he wearily sat down in the dilapidated plastic chair, he glanced down the deserted street that was filled with rusting old automobiles. No more deliveries, he thought. That announcement haunted him. No more deliveries. That’s why they left. That and the polluted river. Well, I’m gonna stay right here. This has been my home for fifty years. As for going someplace else, who says it’s going to be any better? The delivery guy from the church said supplies were low and that they had lost another horse. Sounds to me that things have sure gotten worse.

Over a period of time, the old man had hoarded food supplies and things like matches, flashlight batteries, and candles. He was catching rain in a bucket, but it hadn’t rained for several weeks. Since the loss of utilities, he was using the candles. He knew he would eventually run out of them, but he would stay here, learning how to live much of his life in darkness.

The sun was now rapidly sinking below the horizon. He watched it for another minute, marveling again at its beauty, then went inside. In the kitchen, he lit a candle, unaware that the ant had emerged from its hiding space and was watching him. As was often the case, the old man started singing as he went to the pantry to get food for his supper: Show me the way to go home. I’m tired and I want to go to bed. The ant listened to the words of the song, trying to make some sense of them. It was the first time he had focused on music.

The man opened a can of vegetable soup. He took it to the back porch, where he started a small fire in the remains of an outdoor cooker, using small chips of wood that he had gathered from the back of his property. The ant followed him, watching the old man heat the soup in a small pot. Fire, the ant thought. Fire.

When the old man had eaten, he went back inside, followed by the ant. He locked the door, went to the front and locked that door. It was a habit. He never expected anyone would try to break in. He took the lit candle to his bedroom, extinguished it, and climbed into bed. He heard the rain starting and then the thunder. He shook his head and smiled. Then he began to sing Show me the way to go home. Shortly, he was asleep. The ant went to the back door, found a crack and went onto the porch, where he found the small pot that the old man had left. He was joined by the other ants. In a few minutes, they had satisfied their hunger and were leaving. As they passed by the bedroom, they paused. There was no sound. They listened more intently. No sound. The man had stopped breathing.

The world was now entering the final years of man. Natural disasters plagued the earth. Warfare, famine, and pestilence took a mounting toll. A few primitive societies were surviving, but it would not be for long. The insects and spiders, however, were not only surviving, but were growing stronger and more intelligent. It was the beginning of the Age of Arthropods.

Chapter One

Bad News

Thorna crawled across the sandy clearing, now and then standing erect to look around for any intruders. She studied the weeds to the north and the sandy expanse to the south, then proceeded to the thinly wooded area along the bank of the great river — the Magnaqua. She went to her favorite place, a large stone just the other side of the trees. She took a deep breath and climbed to the top of it. The early morning sun was beginning to silhouette the large crumbling ruins across the river. The slowly decaying ruins were all that remained of what was once a great city inhabited by huge two-legged creatures.

Dawn was Thorna’s favorite time of the day. Few creatures were stirring, and those who were — mainly gnats, mites and flies — were not a threat. She usually was able to think without interruption. And think she did. Every morning. And always about the same subject: her own existence.

Thorna was what the large two-legged creatures had called an ant. She was dark red-brown and, though still very young, was fully developed, both physically and mentally. When standing erect, she was nearly six inches tall. Her thorax was firm; her pedicel was strong, but thin. Her military instructor called her a slim-waisted fighter. Because of her training and careful eating, her abdomen was of moderate size.

Thorna’s intelligence delighted her teachers and made her the envy of the other members of her species, which now was one of the dominant species on the planet. We are survivors, one of her teachers had told her. The two-legged ones tried to eliminate us with traps, poisons and mutation chemicals, but eventually succeeded only in eliminating themselves. We adapted, and we got stronger and bigger. We do have living enemies, but, so far, we have outsmarted and outfought them. We are survivors.

Adapters and survivors, Thorna thought, pondering her history teacher’s words. It’s hard to believe that we once could communicate in such limited ways. Or that we could not walk upright. Or that we could not wield weapons. She moved a claw and withdrew one of her four white daggers from its spider web sheath. She studied the dagger, admiring its beauty. Most of their weapons had been fashioned from a material found in an ancient landfill, and this one had been made by an expert. Thorna had become very proficient as a dagger warrior and was admired and envied by her fellow ants. She put the dagger back into its sheath and continued meditating. She was thinking about the ant’s ability to speak. Thorna’s language teacher had said — only half jokingly — that speech would eventually be the ants’ downfall.

Thorna smiled as she continued to reflect on her teacher’s words about insects, especially ants, being survivors. Just yesterday, she had been attacked near this very spot by a large hairy spider, a rarity in Eastern Hymenoptera. The spider had ballooned down from a nearby tree and tried to capture her in his web. He had worked feverishly to ensnare her, cursing the ant as she struggled to free herself from his web. Thorna had used all her strength to break the sturdy silken strands as they were encircling her. Then, the agile young ant darted beneath the spider and ripped open his underside with one skillful swipe of her dagger. Afterwards, she had lugged the animal home to the commissary.

Yes, Thorna thought, we are survivors, but that was a close call. I must exercise greater care.

The sun had risen above the crumbling skyline of the ancient city, and Thorna could hear the humming and buzzing of other small insects as they began their day. She looked around her to make sure she wasn’t in danger. She spotted some large flies circling a short distance away and licked her lips, hoping one would get caught in the web strands left by the spider the day before. Suddenly, her antennae quivered. She heard the frightening sound of vibrating wings and spotted the swiftly moving shadow. She looked up in time to see a huge green dragonfly diving toward her.

Whoa! she thought as she quickly grabbed one of her daggers. That’s a big one. I’d better not miss. She waited another second, then hurled the dagger with all of her strength. The dragonfly didn’t have time to change his course, and the dagger struck him between the eyes, killing him instantly. Thorna watched the would-be predator plunge to the ground. Though quivering slightly in the aftermath of the nearly fatal encounter, she smiled as she again thought of her teacher’s words about ants being survivors. Thorna was delighted that she would be able to drag some more meat to the castle, but she was puzzled. Dragonflies had not been seen in this area for ages. Where had this one come from? Was he a scout for an army, or just a lone wanderer? I’d better be wary, she thought. And I need to warn the others.

As she slowly dragged the dragonfly toward the hill, Thorna remembered an old major’s stories of combat with other species. It’s a bug-eat-bug world, he said. "Don’t