Zeb – Part 3
He staggered into a large chamber lit weakly by overhead lamps and stood confused for a moment. The room was lined with fibrous chrysalids; they resembled hardened, stringy, sleeping bags and they were spread throughout the room – some attached upright to the dirt wall, some flat at its base and some at awkward, slumping angles in between. They ranged in size from only slightly larger than himself to well over eight feet in length. Most were intact and dull, but some were vaguely translucent, others still were nothing more than dried husks, cracked and hollow. A few nursery Workers scuttled about the chamber, tending mostly to the few translucent chrysalids, and one in particular that Zeb could see was twitching. Another Worker pulled busily at an empty husk, breaking pieces of it away from the wall to clear space.
Zeb spotted an open area along a far wall and rushed to it. Workers had slathered the sticky honey onto the wall there and he grabbed great handfuls of it. It was a substance secreted by the Queen herself and he gulped it down as fast as he could. No amount of willpower could have stopped him from eating it. The secretion was slightly bitter yet it was satisfying like nothing he had ever experienced before. He felt as though he was completing his raison d’etre and the stuff made him ecstatic. Soon he was frantically licking his fingers and then the wall itself in a desperate search for any last traces of it.
And then Zeb coughed.
It was a deep, rasping cough and he felt something move inside his chest. He stood for a moment, a concerned look spreading across his face. Then he was suddenly racked by a coughing spasm that doubled him up and he fell against the wall. Zeb struggled to breathe and felt like he was beginning to choke. He coughed hard again and then reeled in horror as a sticky, stringy, white substance sprayed onto his hands from his mouth. His throat wheezed as he fought to inhale and he could feel the stuff congesting his airway. He coughed again several times and slumped against the wall, the white film spraying onto his chest and the wall and his hands. Ribbons of it burst from his mouth and trailed from his nose, connecting his face to his hands and his body. He struggled to clear it away from his face, to allow himself to breathe, but he only coughed up more. It was tangling about his arms now and he could feel himself sticking to the wall and the floor. He slipped into semi-consciousness, and then only vaguely aware of his actions he began to spread it about his naked body, wrapping himself in a thickening, sticky web. Sweating, coughing, exhausted, and full to the point of nausea, Zeb lost consciousness as his wrappings slowly swelled and expanded, eventually enclosing his body entirely.
Lost in a deep and intense sleep, Zeb was overwhelmed by a battery of dreams and emotions. Intense feelings of devotion and dedication surged through him as very old memories of the nursery and his earliest days stirred. A crushing sense of unconditional love and duty pressed in on him as his thoughts turned to the Queen. The rest of the visions and feelings he experienced were confusing and unclear, as though he was seeing them through smoke or hearing voices under water.
His sleep deepened. Through the darkness now came pain, waves of it. His whole being ached and he was trapped in the grip of an inescapable torture. A rigid paralysis spread through his limbs and he could not writhe nor cry out as a sensation of fire smouldered through his bones, searing his joints, limbs and skull. He tried to let go, to give up, but could not. Terror seized him as he realized he could do nothing but endure. All sense of time was lost and what felt like a lifetime slipped agonizingly by. His suffering gave rise to anger and a growing hatred focused his mind, drove away his fear and began to numb the pain. He felt heavy all over, as though weighted down by wet clothes, and then finally, mercifully, the pain faded completely. His anger, however, remained, and he wanted to hurt something – a desire Zeb had never before experienced. He dreamed of fighting, of dominating some unseen foe and slowly his paralysis faded. He thrashed in his sleep as he began to break through layers of unconsciousness. He wanted to fight, wanted to hurt, but he felt shackled as though tied up. His anger reached a crescendo as he could sense his enemy sneering before him, just out of reach, mocking his bound fists. With an enormous effort Zeb threw a great punch and sat up yelling.
The light blinded him. Zeb could see nothing and remember nothing. All was brilliant white. Slowly the nursery resolved around him and Zeb’s memories trickled back into his foggy brain. He was sitting upright inside the cracked husk of a chrysalis, opaque shards of which were scattered on the floor around him. He breathed great gulps of air for what felt like the first time. What had been dimly lit and stale before now seemed brilliant and fresh. However, the nursery chamber was no longer safe and reassuring, it was quiet and boring. Zeb wanted to leave. Far away a Worker tended to a twitching chrysalis.
Zeb’s legs were trapped by the bottom of the fibrous casing and he tried to move them, but couldn’t. He tried again to pull himself from it with his arms but still could not. Suddenly enraged, he smashed at the remnants of his chrysalis with his fists and kicked his legs, eventually freeing them in a rush of noise and debris.
He slowly got to his feet but felt uncoordinated and slow. A strangely small nursery Worker came to help him up but he pushed her way in anger. He didn’t need help. Zeb made his way across the chamber and stumbled into the tunnels. He had to duck his head to avoid the dirt ceiling and the tunnels were suddenly much smaller and tighter. He didn’t like the cramped feeling and as he got his legs back he was soon charging powerfully forward, winding his way up through the maze, desperate to get outside, and then, abruptly, he burst into the blinding light of mid-day. Several small Drones screamed as he stepped from the darkness and they scattered before him. Their fear was a rush and Zeb paused to look at himself.
