Zeb – Part 2
Together they soon arrived at a large field, and before them spread a gently swaying, golden expanse; seemingly endless in the dust and summer haze. A line of Workers was slowing scything its way across the field, followed by a second, less coherent wave of Workers and smaller Drones gathering the fallen stalks and loading carts. Ghillian and Zeb merged seamlessly into the operation, requiring no direction or instructions.
Throughout the morning Ghillian was quiet and withdrawn. Zeb left her in peace as they laboured, gathering the freshly cut wheat into bundles and piling it onto carts. He knew she was worrying about her uncertain and unglamourous future and he empathized with her deeply. For a female, being chosen as a Breeder was the ultimate honour and working in the nursery was the next best thing. Remaining as a Worker was a much less flattering role for females, although those who did become Workers were often as effective as labourers as any man.
Zeb’s heart went out to Ghillian and he gave her the desserts from his lunch. With his recent appetite she knew how generous he was being and the gesture cheered her considerably. They were very good friends, although not in a romantic way, and Ghillian was glad that Zeb would be there with her if she was indeed going to have to remain as a Worker. They passed a much more social afternoon and climbed onto the last loaded wagon back to the colony as dusk set in over the fields.
A mature Worker, its back caked with dust and creased with lines of sweat, leaned into the leather harness as Zeb and Ghillian pushed to help get the wooden wheels rolling before jumping onto the potatoes at the back. The workers legs pumped tirelessly to draw the wagon back to the colony centre and he was proud to put his strength toward getting them home. They sang a worker’s hymn and swung their legs in the dust clouds kicked up by the back wheels as the last rays of the setting sun warmed their faces.
That night Zeb quite literally ate everything he could get his hands on in the dining area. He only gave up his quest for extra nourishment after he asked two Soldiers for their meals and was promptly dragged from the room by terrified Drones. His appetite stayed at a truly ravenous level for the next couple of weeks and he developed an insatiable craving for meat, milk and strangely enough, bones. To his delight, the cookstaff maintained a large stock of bones in their cold stores and he as able to bring some to the field everyday, where he gnawed and sucked on them throughout the day –much to the revulsion of those around him. As embarrassed as he was, Zeb felt powerless to stop himself and was quite literally a slave to his cravings. The cooks joked that he was ‘boning’ but readily handed them over regardless. Zeb’s girth continued to swell and he seemed to be getting heavier by the day.
The summer came into full bloom and the heat of the sun waxed mercilessly. Early one morning, as the Workers were preparing for the trek to the fields, Zeb was overcome with a sudden drowsiness. He wavered on his feet and collapsed into Ghillian’s arms just as she moved to support him. She strained to hold his considerable weight, but he soon roused and Ghillian helped him to stand. Zeb felt an irresistible urge to descend to the nursery. There, where he had been born, a honey-like secretion coated the walls and it was fed to infants to help them grow. He hadn’t thought of the stuff since the day he had walked out of the nursery at four years of age, but now the taste and smell of the sap came rushing back so vividly that he could think of nothing else. He craved it like a drug.
Ghillian knew what was happening and she worried over him like a mother, but he pushed her away. Almost in a stupor he staggered from her, drawn inexorably toward the mouth of the subterranean chambers as though pulled by an invisible rope. Zeb clutched at his head. He couldn’t think clearly and all was a blur around him. Pain grew in his temples and he felt a pressure building inside his skull to the point that he feared it might burst. He knew what was happening. He was going to metamorphose into an adult! He was not excited though. In fact he was terrified and confused. Some of the mature Workers who had been waiting at the muster with them noticed his behaviour and guided him toward the tunnel entrance.
Like a drunk Zeb stumbled through the earthen tunnels, ricocheting between the dirt walls and staggering ever closer to where he had been born. The air became heavy and stale and the temperature rose steadily. He was short of breath and felt unbearably hot as though gripped by the worst of fevers, and he desperately, clumsily, ripped off his clothing as he moved ever deeper. His vision was blurred and misleading, but somehow he knew where he was going just the same. An invisible trail of pheromones led him through the underground labyrinth. He could smell the presence of the Queen, her unmistakable cocktail of pheromones intoxicating his brain. He longed to rush to her, to serve her, but the other chemical trail pulled him harder.
