Camellias

The net didn’t bother her anymore. She had gotten used to the way the tan mesh obscured her vision and turned the world into an abstract painting. She liked the way it shielded the harsh sun. After a few years of wearing the protective suit, her eyes had become unaccustomed to the vibrant colors of the unshielded world and the bright light of the sun. 

Most people felt this way, or had simply grown tired of complaining about the suits and had turned numb and quiet. No one spoke of the hassle of the suits anymore. Some, younger than Camellia, never knew anything different. They even cried when exposed to naked faces. 

Camellia could faintly remember the time when the suit was not needed. She had been a child then. Some would say she was still a child now — only seventeen — but, life had caused her to become a hardened adult, prematurely.

She continued through the market, through the swarms, until she found her younger brother, Jackson, feebly trying to sell their small amount of produce that had survived the pestilence. She noticed that the same amount was still in his basket as had been there this morning. He had sold nothing. This didn’t bother her today. 

“Come on,” she yelled across the constant, loud hum. 

Jackson looked up at her. Though he was unable to hear her, he could see her hand motioning him to follow. She was smiling. This was rare.

When they were shoulder to shoulder, walking through the market, she spoke again. 

“It’s going to rain,” Camellia beamed. 

“Are you sure?” Jackson yelled back. 

“Yes. I can smell it.” 

Their feet now moved faster through the crowded market. It only rained sparsely, and when it did, the buzzing stopped. The excessive swarm of bees had to hide from the wet gifts of heaven, and for that small period of time, the people once again had freedom. They could run into grassy fields without protection, like carefree children. Those were the happiest days of the year.

Camellia remembered the day when the bees took over. She was ten. Before then, the only thing she had heard about bees was that they were an endangered species and if they were to go extinct, so would human life. She hadn’t understood what they did, except that they were important. But mainly, they would cause her to run around her yard in fear if one ever got too close. Whenever that happened, her mom would tell her, “Don’t be afraid of the bees. They’re more afraid of you.” 

Well, it sure didn’t seem like they were afraid of her anymore as they surrounded her entire body like a dark cloud. 

No one had ever talked about what would happen to life if the bees became overpopulated until The Day of the Swarm: the day that uprooted and changed the world seven years ago. The hum could be heard hours before the bees were seen. When they came into view on the horizon like a dust storm, her parents had shoved her and her younger brother into the cellar before they, themselves, had been stung to death. Somehow Camellia and Jackson had survived and eventually protective suits were given to the small remainder of people.

It was unclear where the bees had come from, but conspiracy theories claimed that in an attempt to stop them from going extinct, government experiments had caused the opposite — overpopulation. 

Now life was simply an exercise in survival. In this crisis, the world had reverted to uncivilized life. Everyone fended for themselves — aside from the market when people would exchange their goods — hoping to live another day.

But when it rained, the world felt like it used to feel. Normal. Camellia and Jackson, now outside the market, walked as fast as they could. If the bees and protective suits weren’t weighing down their steps, they would have run, like children on a summer evening. If the swarm wasn’t flying like a dark cloud over their heads, they would have seen the jacaranda trees, in full bloom and sprinkling purple petals every time a soft breeze came through. They would have seen the pond to their left, covered in lily pads. But they couldn’t enjoy nature anymore. 

When they finally reached their small house, tucked away in the woods, they were out of breath and grinning. Above their heads and the swarm, a small storm cloud was growing on the horizon, like a hungry monster.

“Look,” Camellia pointed to the dispersing bees, moments before the first raindrop landed by her feet. The bees became agitated and searched for refuge underneath the large magnolia leaves. 

“It’s time,” Camellia said. She and Jackson slowly took off their suits, revealing sweat-stained summer t-shirts and shorts. 

“Let’s go!” Jackson squealed.

They ran out from the covering of the porch and danced in the rain, free of bees. The wet grass felt foreign to their unprotected feet. Their bare skin drank in every drop of water. 

“To the pond!!” Camellia shouted.

They jumped in the small body of water, scattering the lily pads. Jackson grabbed a slimy frog and brought it near Camellia’s cheek, causing her to scream and run out of the pond, deeper into the woods. Jackson chased her, cackling. They were too distracted — being kids enjoying a summer day — to think about where they were going. Suddenly, fire came up from the ground underneath and connected with the electricity striking down from the sky. Camellia and Jackson fell back, struck by lightning.

The first thing Camellia noticed when she woke up was that she was not wearing her protective suit. This would be normal if she were inside her home, behind the house’s double insulated nets. But she was not. She felt grass underneath her bare arms and legs. Panicked, she sat up and looked around. The rain had stopped. She and Jackson were still outside, unprotected. Her shaking hand gripped the heart-shaped locket that hung from her neck, a habit she did whenever she sensed danger.

“Jackson!” she shouted, not realizing a shout was unnecessary. Her words carried fine. That is when she noticed something was missing: the buzz.

Jackson sat up, dazed. 

“What happened?” he asked.

“We’re outside, without our suits!” she yelled. This sentence fully awakened Jackson. 

They looked around at their surroundings: a meadow encircled by trees. 

“How are we alive? Where are we?” Jackson asked.

“I don’t know...the rain stopped…where are the bees…” Camellia stuttered, trying to make sense of their circumstances.

“Maybe they haven’t returned since the rain.” Jackson noticed. 

“We need to hurry home.” Camellia stood. She was dizzy from the lightning hit but continued. As she walked toward the woods she heard a faint buzz that grew louder the closer she got to the trees. She tested this out on each side of the meadow, and the same thing happened. The meadow was surrounded by bees. 

“We’re surrounded. But I don’t know why they don’t come here,” Camellia whispered, as if the bees could understand her. Jackson’s eyes widened, the severity of the situation dawning upon him. 

“How can we ever get out of here?”

“I don’t know.” Camellia sat down, overcome by the dizziness. They sat in silence for a few minutes or hours. Time is a hard thing to calculate when one feels like there is no way out. 

Camellia’s dazed eyes miraculously spotted something pink in the distance. It looked familiar and gave her a sense of happy memories. She stood and walked toward the 6-foot bush filled with vibrant pink flowers.

“Camellias! I haven’t seen one for years,” she said to herself.

Camellia touched the pink flower for which she was named. The petals were soft and delicate, like her innocence before The Day of the Swarm — back when she had simply been a child with loving parents. She remembered a spring day when she and her mom had walked past a camellia bush. Her mom had smiled and said, “My favorite flowers. They are beautiful, but also powerful and resilient...and lethal when needed. Just like my favorite daughter.” Her mom had taken a petal and stored it away inside her locket, the same one Camellia now wore.

Suddenly Camellia froze. On one of the flowers was a lone bee. Somehow it had escaped the swarm. She watched this loner, partially out of fear of any movement, but mainly out of curiosity. How small these creatures seemed when alone. Nothing to be afraid of. She could squash it with her hands. 

The bee began to pollinate the flower. Then something strange happened. After it drank from the flower’s nectar, it tried to fly away but couldn’t. It levitated an inch and then dropped dead. Camellia watched, shocked. 

“Lethal when needed,” her mother’s words replayed in her mind. She looked around the meadow again and now noticed three other camellia bushes at opposite ends of the meadow. She gasped.

“Jackson! I think I found the reason!” she yelled. Jackson came running to see what her commotion was about. 

“I watched a bee drink from the camellia flower and then drop dead. That’s why they’re not here. The camellias keep them out!” She pointed to the bushes surrounding the meadow. 

“It could have been just the one bee.” he said.

“Possibly. But it’s our only option.”

“What’s our only option?” Jackson worried. She didn’t respond. Instead, she began taking the flowers and rubbing them all over her skin. 

“What are you doing?” Jackson asked.

“Testing it out,” she replied.

Jackson grabbed her arm and stopped her. “They’ll kill you!” 

Camellia paused and looked him in the eye. “What other option do we have? We can’t sit here forever. I’m tired of them controlling our lives. It’s time we take back our freedom!” Camellia noticed a new strength within that surprised even herself.

“I’ll go with you.” Jackson said.

“No,” Camellia said authoritatively. “I have to do this alone. I will come back for you.” Jackson knew there was no arguing with her, so he stepped back.

Camellia took stems carrying multiple flowers and wrapped them around her body. Tears stung Jackson’s eyes as he watched his sister, his only family, preparing for her death. She looked at him after covering herself with the flowers. Surprisingly, they laughed. She looked ridiculous. This laugh gave her the strength to continue. 

“I love you.” she said and stepped into the woods, allowing the buzzing to drown out Jackson’s response. As she walked deeper into the woods, she saw the black swarm. Camellia took a deep breath and continued walking. She was now but a few feet from the swarm. A few feet from death or freedom. 

She took the final step into the swarm. Something wonderful happened! The bees scattered as if she had a wall of at least five feet around her. Wherever she moved, they dispersed. Camellia began to hysterically laugh: all the pent up emotions caused by these creatures burst out at once. She became more intrepid and started darting in every direction. No matter where she went, the bees fled from her. 

“We’re free!” she whispered as the truth dawned on her like the beginning of a sunrise. “We’re free!” Camellia screamed louder and louder. She could actually run — barefoot and unprotected!

With new authority and boldness, Camellia turned back to the meadow to get Jackson. She looked below at the bold color of the green grass. She looked up at the blue sky and golden sun. The brightness didn’t bother her eyes anymore. She felt something soft land on her shoulder. A shower of violet petals floated down from the jacaranda tree, no longer hidden by the swarm. She wondered how she had ever endured life with a net over her eyes all these years. 

“You’re done ruining our lives! We’re in charge again!” she declared to the fleeing bees.