Read Online Invasive Species by Joseph Wallace - Free Book Online Page B

details right. The color of the wings. The angle of the head. The size of the mandibles.
    When he was done he held up the picture, a nearly perfect representation of the wasps Trey had seen. All that it was lacking was the sense of menace, of calculation, of intelligence that came to Trey whenever he closed his eyes.
    The soul.
    â€œYou
saw
one of these,” Jack said, as if he still couldn’t quite believe it.
    â€œI saw a colony of them.” Trey sat back a little in the chair. “In a forest that was dying.”
    Jack stared down at the drawing, and when he raised his head his eyes had a different look. Trey had seen it many times before. It meant his friend’s mind was engaged. It meant he was ready for the hunt.
    â€œThe whole story, please,” Jack said.
    *   *   *
    AGAIN TREY TALKED. It was a requirement of his occupation, talking—if someone was paying you to go look, they expected you to tell them what you’d seen—but one he hated. Usually when he was done being debriefed, done talking to fund-raisers and scientists and whatever press was interested in his explorations, he’d disappear into the wilderness again. Making up for a few days of noise with weeks of silence.
    Jack was quiet, looking down at his desk, at the drawing. For someone who loved the sound of his own voice, he knew how to listen, too.
    Only when Trey was done did he look up. “That smell,” he said. “Was it formic acid?”
    The characteristic odor of ant colonies, the acid found in their stings . . . and wasps’, too.
    Trey frowned. “No. Not quite. It was . . . stronger.”
    He was much better describing what he’d seen than what he’d smelled.
    â€œAnd the dead man you saw had the same odor.”
    â€œThe room did, at least.”
    â€œAnd you think the wasps were going to kill you.”
    â€œI think they were considering it.”
    Jack frowned. Opened his mouth as if there was something he wanted to say, then shook his head as if he’d changed his mind. What he finally said was, “But the sting didn’t kill the monkey. You said being stung made it . . . more alert. Aggressive.”
    Trey said nothing, just turned his palms up.
    â€œDo you think they attacked that woman after she rescued you?”
    Trey shook his head. “I tried calling the village to ask about her,” he said, “and no one there will speak to me. But—”
    â€œBut she didn’t seem afraid?” Jack widened his eyes. “Suicidal?”
    â€œNo. Determined.” He struggled to find the right word. “Powerful.”
    Jack grimaced. “I hate this shit.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHaving a few pieces of the puzzle, but not enough. And not having access to the rest of the pieces.”
    â€œI know.” Trey felt weary. “But I’m not getting back into Senegal anytime soon, and I don’t know how else to get the other pieces.”
    Jack stared at him for a few seconds. Then he gave a sudden grin. “You’re so clueless, you make me seem like Stephen Hawking. I admire that in you. You really don’t know what to do next?”
    Trey shook his head.
    Jack’s eyes flicked over to the laptop computer that sat open on his desk. The screen saver showed not wasps but, unexpectedly, a litter of golden retriever puppies.
    â€œWell, I do,” he said.

EIGHT
    Nouadhibou, Mauritania
    THERE WAS NO space on the dhow for Mariama.
    She’d spent days with the Ndoye family, hiding from officials amid the donkey carts surrounding the marketplace and among the villagers mending fishing nets down near the beach. Waiting, just waiting, for someone to sell them transport out of the country.
    The Ndoye family: an old father and mother, both of them thin, tired, and gray before they’d even left the shore. Their grown children and younger ones, too, along with some cousins, or