Magicicada

I guess suffocation by bugs was too much Satan for even the truest believers.

For the small town of Maple, Texas, it’s a hot cicada summer.

After the fifth person died choking to death on the droning creatures, people in the tiny town of Maple, Texas were so terrified, they didn’t go outside anymore.

They even skipped church.

That shows you how bad things had gotten. Ain’t nothing ever come between these folks and Jesus. I guess suffocation by bugs was too much Satan for even the truest believers.

The irony? Their Christian beliefs had jack-all to do with what was happening to the townsfolk. The real problem had to do with complacency.

They took for granted their abundance of blessings.

My wife and I had taken up residence in Maple a couple of weeks before the invasion. We lived on about an acre of wooded land about five miles away from downtown.

We could hear the constant thrumming of the cicadas, but the insects didn’t pay us too much mind.

Still, I have to admit I was impressed that Preacher Colton Hart, Sheriff Gary Boudreaux, and Mayor Chester Mills had waded through the thousands of cicadas to come see us.

“You sure are lucky, Tiffany,” Mayor Mills said as he unwrapped himself from the coat, hat, scarf, and goggles meant to protect him from bug invasions. “You and uh — ” He glanced at my spouse. “Erm, Ellen, don’t have hardly any of those little devils out here.”

Ellen took the mayor’s items, offering kindness the old fart didn’t deserve. “Yes, we are lucky,” she said. She gathered the coats from our other two guests and hung everything up in the entryway closet. I led the three gentlemen into the living room and gestured for them to sit.

They took the couch. While the mayor and preacher’s expression mirrored uneasiness, the Sheriff seemed comfortable enough. He took off his wide-brimmed hat and placed it on his knee.

Green smears stained his tan uniform and cowboy boots. Even the black gun belt slouched around his waist revealed evidence of smashed cicadas.

The expensive suits worn by the mayor and preacher were much more pristine. Such fussy, vain men. Unlike the Sheriff, who didn’t care a whit about appearance. He was about the job. At least him I could respect.

Ellen took the spot next to me on the love seat, leaning against my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around her and kissed the top of her head. I saw the looks of censure from the preacher and mayor, their mouths squeezing as though sucking on lemons.

Anger flared and I opened my mouth to give them what-for, but Ellen squeezed my thigh — a reminder to stay the course. I swallowed the words I wanted to say and instead asked, “What can we do for you?”

“You can solve the bug problem.” The mayor leaned forward, offering us a smile that didn’t reach his flinty gaze. “We’ve come to the conclusion that God is punishing us for allowing you into our community.”

“Women who live together?” I asked.

“Lesbians,” the preacher spat. He pointed a finger at us and recited, “Romans 1:26. Because of this, God gave them over to shameful lusts. Even their women exchanged natural sexual relations for unnatural ones.” He nodded fervently then added, “And they received in their own persons the due penalty for their error.”

He sat back, satisfied with his chastisement. “The Almighty always punishes the sinners who mock his Grace.”

“You think He — ” I pointed up. “ — sent bugs to punish everyone because Ellen and I are in a monogamous same-sex marriage?”

I looked at my wife.

We both burst out laughing.

“You think God’s wrath is humorous?” Preacher Hart’s jowls shook as self-righteousness bled into his expression.

The man was an ode to the sin of gluttony — from his overweight carcass to the platinum rings donning his chubby fingers. What a hypocrite. He judged our lifestyle to be wrong when he so eagerly fed his own greed with food and money?

“I think you’re confused about who’s responsible for the cicadas,” I said. “The God of your precious Bible doesn’t give two shits about homosexuality.”

The preacher’s mouth opened and closed as his face turned a bright shade of red. “Blasphemy!” he chewed out through gritted teeth.

“For some, maybe. Not for us.” Ellen turned her gracious smile onto the Sheriff. My wife really was the sweetest thing. “You’re not originally from Maple, are you?”

“Moved here five years ago,” said the Sheriff. “My wife always wanted to live in a small town. She had terminal cancer, you see. I’d do anything for her. I wanted her last days to be filled with as much happiness as possible.” He flattened his hand against his chest. “She’s my heart.”

He shook his head, his lips curving into a half-smile. “Damndest thing, though. We were only here for a few weeks when the cancer went into remission on its own. She’s been healthy ever since.”

“That’s wonderful,” said Ellen. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears of empathy. I knew how the Sheriff felt. Ellen was my world. My heart. I’d do anything for her.

“What do you know about thirteen-year cicadas?” I asked.

The Sheriff’s eyebrows rose at the question. “Not much, I’m afraid. Other than I’m getting real good at killing the little bastards.” He grimaced as he waved a hand over his stained uniform.

“Magicicada,” I said. “That’s the genus. Great name, right? They hibernate for thirteen years and then pop out of the ground and swarm to mate and lay eggs.”

“Most folks confuse cicadas with locusts, but they’re not related at all.” Ellen turned her gaze to the preacher and mayor. “You two know all about these cicadas. Been part of the town’s history since the very first days Maple was founded. Isn’t that right?”

“What?” The Sheriff glanced at the other two men. “This isn’t the first time the cicadas have attacked Maple?”

“Enough, Colton. Let’s get this over with.” Mayor Mills got to his feet, producing a gun and pointing it at us. “I am truly sorry, ladies,” he lied. “But you see, we don’t have much of a choice.”

“Hey now,” said the Sheriff. “What are you doing, Chester?”

“You shut up, Gary,” the mayor huffed. “You invited yourself to this little shindig. We didn’t ask you to come at all.”

“You can’t kill them because they’re gay!” The Sheriff moved as though he intended to stand, but the preacher pulled out a revolver and aimed it at the Sheriff’s head.

“It’s the only way,” said the preacher. “You haven’t lived here long enough to understand what must be done. Chester, we’ll have to present three victims. We can’t have the Sheriff blabbing.”

The mayor nodded. “It’s a shame, but you’re right.”

The Sheriff wasn’t fearful. I could see he wanted to de-esculate the situation. “You both need to put down your weapons.” His voice was quiet, calm. “No one needs to get hurt tonight.”

“Oh, there’s where you’re wrong,” I said. “Every now and again the folks of Maple apparently need reminders of the bargain they made to live and prosper on this land.”

Unlike my darling Ellen, I didn’t have it in me to smile at these fools. “Every thirteen years, the cicadas arrive. Think of them as a ringing alarm clock. A reminder to pay a longstanding bill. When the bill isn’t paid — well, you see the result.”

The mayor turned pale. No doubt because he’d finally made the connection between us and the cicadas. I could practically taste the man’s terror.

“Sit down.” I extended my finger then pointed it downward. The mayor’s legs buckled and he fell onto the couch. Ellen waved her hand at the men, and their guns flew from their grips and skittered across the hardwood floor.

“What’s going on?” The sheriff put his hand on his gun belt, obviously uneasy by our little shows of power.

“I told you,” I said. “The original founders of Maple made a bargain. Not only to settle this little piece of Texas paradise, but also for prosperity. Haven’t you noticed how well everyone does here? No one’s poor or homeless. Crime is practically non-existent. Every citizen enjoys good health. Like your wife. And that’s how it remains. So long as they pay the bounty owed.”

The Sheriff was a thoughtful man and I saw his eyes narrow as he considered the situation. I decided to help him out. I took Ellen’s hand squeezed. “Her true name is Eos. The Greeks called her the sky goddess and said her tears became the morning dew.”

Ellen laughed. “I certainly don’t cry as much as I used to.” She kissed my knuckles. “Not since I found Tithonus.”

“The Greeks believed Zeus gave me immortality, but I still aged, withering to the point he took mercy on me and turned me into a cicada.”

“None of that is true,” said Ellen. “Except that Tithonus does have an affinity for cicadas.”

“And you,” I said, stroking her cheek.

“What did they promise?” asked the Sheriff. “The town’s founders?”

“What all gods demand,” I answered. “Sacrifice.”

The mayor and preacher blanched.

The Sheriff’s brows rose as realization hit him. He turned his head to glare at his companions. “You came here to kill them as the town’s sacrifices?”

“Better strangers than our citizens,” said the mayor.

“Thirteen years is a lot of time to plan,” I said, tsking as I shook my head. “I don’t think there’s much of an excuse for not honoring your promise to us.”

“You see,” said Ellen. “Once we eat, we hibernate for another thirteen years.”

“And the town of Maple receives the benefit of our return to the earth,” I added. “All that energy created by our feasting seeps out and blesses those who live here. And we stay sated for another thirteen years.”

“My wife’s cancer … it’s gone because we moved here.”

Ellen nodded. “That’s right, Sheriff. And it will stay gone so long as you remain in Maple.”

“She’s pregnant with our first child. We never thought we’d get to have kids.” The Sheriff pursed his lips. “How many sacrifices?”

“We’re not greedy,” said Ellen. “We only require two humans.” She held up her hand. “No children. Your young are too cute to be eaten. And no animals.” She licked her lips. “Humans are so delicious. So succulent. Animals are a poor substitute.”

“We … uh, have the right people in mind,” said the mayor, his face gray. He took a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped the sweat from his face. “We can work this out.”

Preacher Hart said nothing, but I saw the worry in his gaze. The worry — and the anger. Such a bitter soul.

“We’re not asking to be worshiped,” said Ellen. “Just fed. For all you receive in return, it’s a small price to pay.”

“Or the cicadas can keep suffocating everyone and destroying buildings until nothing and no one is left. There are other towns and more compliant people.” I patted Ellen’s knee. “Isn’t that right, babe?”

“Yes. Though I would hate to start over. I do like it here.”

“Will those two do?” asked the Sheriff, jabbing his thumb at his compatriots. “You eat them. The cicadas go away, and we have peace and prosperity for another thirteen years?”

“Now wait a minute!” the mayor blustered. “I’m not going to be sacrificed!”

“Me, either,” said Preacher Hart. He tried to get to his feet, but one little zap from me glued him to the couch, same as the Mayor.

Ellen and I looked at each other, and I saw the answer in her gaze. We were in agreement. We both stood. “It’s a deal, Sheriff.”

The Sheriff took the hat off his knee and put it on. Then he rose to his feet and shook both of our proffered hands. “Thank you, ladies. Do I need to return for … um, clean-up?”

“There won’t be anything left,” I assured the Sheriff. “You’ll need to explain their disappearances.”

The Sheriff shrugged. “Them cicadas is what I figure,” he said. “Damned shame, really.” He nodded. “Good night then.”

“Good night,” said Ellen. She retrieved the Sheriff’s coat from the foyer closet and then showed him out.

Mayor Mills and Preacher Hart screamed for his help, but the Sheriff left without looking back once. Their cries turned to mewling. I pinched my fingers together and their lips pressed shut.

I hated it when my food whined.

“I like the Sheriff,” said Ellen as she returned to the living room.

“He’s a practical man,” I agreed. I rubbed my hands together. “Now, sweetheart. What do you feel like … pot roast? Or barbecue?”

Ellen leaned over the couch and poked at the men’s bellies. “Barbecue,” she said. “Let’s make it a true Texas feast with potato salad, collard greens, and sweet tea.”

I snapped my fingers and an ax appeared in my hands. “You go on and get the fixings started.” I grinned at our terrified sacrifices. What they didn’t know is that fear made them more tender and tasty. “I’ll get the meat ready.”

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