My Enemy (Short Story)
From Party Animals
We have become accustomed to living with danger, but I have an uncomfortable feeling about today's mission.
My group is restless. They probably realise I am nervous.
But we have no choice about venturing out. The weather is about to change and we do not have enough to eat. There is food nearby, but it is always a risk. Often we end up carrying back not just our supplies, but the bodies of our friends.
Their species and ours have been enemies for years. I do not know why it should be like this, but it is. They are a peculiar race and find us threatening. Once, we were intrigued by other civilisations and longed to increase our understanding. It was our dream.
But that was long ago.
Now we are hard pressed just to stay alive, and want to be left alone.
It is not like me to be so depressed. Perhaps I am growing old. My usefulness to the others will soon be over and, with things as they are, I know what my fate will be. Survival is everything. I shudder.
Concentrate, I must concentrate. Should we stay hidden or run? It is a difficult choice.
The enemy stalks through the underbrush not bothering to hide his presence. And why should he? He is stronger and he knows it.
A young warrior at the back of the pack bolts and heads for home. I cannot restrain him. He is too quick. It is undisciplined but I do not blame him. We all know the enemy has a new weapon, powerful and devastating. Our losses have been great
I consider retreating, but it is too late. I see him clearly now. Our enemy is big. Everything about these creatures is like that: big bodies, big egos and now - big weapons.
There are sounds behind us. I gesture to the others to stand still. They will not obey, but I try. After all, I am the leader.
Our enemy looks left and right, then advances relentlessly towards us. He hesitates, uncertain of our exact position. Our size sometimes works in our favour.
I know what will happen. But I cannot prevent it. Maybe it is fate. All I can do is meet my enemy with pride.
He stops. Stares. His voice booms out but he speaks in a foreign language and the words are lost. But his meaning is clear.
The troops scatter, panic-stricken. They have no means of protecting themselves against such a giant. Zig-zagging blindly, they run over the hillside.
I take one last look at the blue sky above our heads, then charge forward. Better to be mown down moving forward than backward. I race towards my enemy in a frenzy.
He roars.
Then I feel it. The very thing I most dread. It drifts down from above and coats my body, strangely cool at first, then white hot. There is no defence against chemical warfare. My legs cramp. I can run no further. My body quivers. I shake so badly I wonder whether I will actually break into pieces. But at least, this way, I might not be devoured by my family.
Unsure that he has finished the job, the enemy reaches down, his massive hand blocking out the light. I am helpless as he aims the can directly at my feeble body and squirts more poison.
The pain is unbearable. I am wracked with spasms. Against a cold-blooded enemy like this human, we ants have no hope.