Capítulo 40: Chapter 40
The bees were everywhere. Black, striped bodies buzzed through the broken streets, their wings cutting the air in high-pitched whines. They didn't look like anything from before.
Their bodies were swollen, misshapen, bigger than any bees should be. Some had additional legs, some had wings sprouting where they shouldn't. Their eyes—too many eyes—were dead, hollow, like empty pits that saw everything and nothing at the same time.
Isaiah stumbled through the wreckage of what had once been a small town. His clothes were torn, caked with blood, a deep red stain creeping up his arm. He hadn't meant to get out this far; he just ran. It didn't matter where. The world didn't matter anymore. It was just the fight—the fight between the bees and the wasps.
The wasps had mutated too. Larger, faster, fiercer. Their mandibles were sharp, snapping with a snap-crackle-pop sound that made his skin crawl. They had torn through anything that didn't fly. The streets, once full of cars and people, were now empty graves.
The wasps had taken what they wanted—humans were caught in between. No matter where you turned, it was just more bodies, more blood, more destruction. It wasn't even war anymore. It was a massacre.
Isaiah's breath caught in his chest. He heard the buzzing again, louder this time. The bees were coming. They always came in waves, organized like a unit, like soldiers. He didn't have much time before they found him, and he knew they would find him. There was no escape.
He rounded a corner and saw a woman, covered in yellow and black, her body lying still in a small puddle of blood. Her face was frozen, her lips split into a grotesque grin. A bee had crawled into her mouth, pushing through the gap in her teeth. The body twitched slightly, as if trying to swat it away. But the woman couldn't move. The bees had done this. They didn't care. They never cared.
Isaiah took a step forward, his heart pounding in his chest, but something caught his attention. A flash of movement above. A wasp. Then another. They circled around like vultures over a carcass. He froze. The wasps were getting closer. They hadn't noticed him yet, but they would. It was just a matter of time.
A deafening buzz tore through the air. Isaiah felt it in his bones. The bees, the wasps—they were fighting, each side trying to kill off the other. The sound of their war drums filled the air, filling his head, making his skin tingle with fear.
He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. His hand gripped a rusted pipe he found on the ground, but it wouldn't do anything. Nothing would do anything.
The wasps found him first. They came down in swarms, their wings beating the air like thunder. They swarmed around his face, their mandibles snapping, trying to find a soft spot. Isaiah screamed, but it was swallowed by the sound of the attack.
One of the wasps landed on his neck, its sting puncturing deep into his flesh. The pain shot through him like a fire, and he couldn't hold back the scream this time. Blood poured from the wound as the wasp ripped itself free and flew back to the others.
He felt them all around him now. The bees had arrived, buzzing in tighter formations, tearing through the air, blocking out the sun. They were too many.
Isaiah's legs gave out from under him. He hit the ground hard, the rusted pipe slipping from his grasp. He wanted to scream, wanted to do anything, but his body felt numb. He had never felt more helpless in his life.
His vision blurred, the world spinning as the wasps and bees tore through his body. The air was thick with them, and the last thing he heard was their buzzing.
It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore.
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