14

James West's mind raced for an answer, his senses overloaded; the droning buzz of the approaching insects broke his concentration, creeping prickles ran across his skin and he didn't know if he was being invaded by the ants and spiders or if it was fear and panic, he heard a pop behind his right ear, followed an instant later by searing pain, it had begun.

Tabitha screamed as the insects had reached her also, and pure terror started to wash over James West as he knew he couldn't kick, punch, or gun down this threat.

More and more insects filled the windows, funneling in through the missing pieces of glass and staking their claim on the helpless man and woman. Tabitha's squeals became worse and bore into West's core like a red hot knife into his soul, rage began to replace his terror as he now felt the hand of death that his friend and an innocent Indian village had felt, "Keep your mouth shut," he instructed Tabitha as he drew her near. Their faces started to disappear as more and more insects landed on them. Instinctively he grabbed one of the poison gas-knives from the secret pocket lined in the back of his jacket, "Get a breath of air," he yelled, with the mayhem around them he prayed that she had heard him, twisting the handle he activated the detonator and threw it into the floor at their feet. With a loud explosion, a cloud of green gas enveloped them but West couldn't see how it was affecting the insects outside of the deadly bubble, he knew he and Tabitha could not stay there and that they needed to wash the agent from their skin. He removed the other green knife from his jacket and repeated what he had done with the first, another cloud filled the space and West thought that the buzzing was growing fainter. From under his holster he retrieved the red-handled knife and with a twist to set the charge, he closed his eyes and tried to picture how far the doors were and pushed by desperation he let the blade fly.

**********

Outside people had started to gather, disbelieving what they were seeing and hearing; the sky had filled with bees and had advanced on their church, three men had quickly exited, sealed the doors and rode out of town, then the screams from within the building had caused the good community of Coopersville to wonder, just what ungodly event were they witnessing.

Just as they started towards the church, the doors splintered into the air with a tremendous boom, sending wooden debris into the crowd, James West with Dr. Welling in his arms emerged from the entrance pulling a green cloud mixed with soot and dust behind them. Remembering that a water pump was just a few yards from the church, Jim raced to it, placed her upon the ground and began working the handle, washing her neck and face; removing living and dead insects from her reddened and inflamed skin, grime, poison, and most importantly, the agent that had started the horrendous encounter.

Townspeople had descended on the couple and as Jim tended to Tabitha, they tended to him, taking his cue; they washed him down until there were no insects at all.

**********

West paced his hotel room, wringing his hands, concerned for Tabitha's wellbeing. She was in an adjoining suite with the town doctor tending to her insect stings. Their washed clothing was drying on the banister outside the window and Jim was wearing some trousers, lent to him by the towns Marshall. Jim could kick himself for letting this happen, the Indian village massacre and his friends death by the same means, that he himself had witnessed, should have told him that she should not have been put into the path of danger. He felt like destroying the room; shatter every window, smash all the furniture, scream until he couldn't any longer.

His jowls, ears, and hands all pulsed in burning pain. He was nauseas and could not eat; he didn't know if it was the affect of the insect venom or if it was his bitterness and loathing. His dinner sat cold on the table.

There was a knock from the adjoining room's door, it was the Doctor, and they spoke softly as West let him enter.

"She's going to need some rest," he showed Jim an empty bottle, "I used a whole jar of ointment, afraid there's not enough for you, young man."

"That's not important," West shook his head and motioned to the next room, "How is she?"

The old and scruffy doctor shuffled further into the room, "Most of the stings are on her wrists and hands, she must have kept them covering her face." West let him continue, "She'll have some minimal scarring and I gave her an injection of morphine for the pain," he started rifling through his bag, "you're next."

"No thanks, doc, I need to remain focused."

"Well, she should be herself in a few days," he placed his hat upon his head and headed for the door to leave, "Darndest thing, those hornets attacking you two like that."

"I should have seen it coming," West muttered as he led the doctor out.

He advanced to the dresser, looked in the mirror and addressed himself, "You should have known."

A knock at the door made West pull away from his reflection, he stopped off at his bed to retrieve his Colt before answering. Pulling back the hammer of his gun, he opened the door a slit. It was Marshall Rogers and Jim stepped aside to let him in.

"Well Mister West, I found Reverend Thomas dead in the work shed behind the church,' All of the church records was strewn in his office, I couldn't find the one you were looking for."

"They must've taken it," West deduced.

"I can assure you that none of the folks around here did this," he adamantly proclaimed, looking at the revolver in Jim's hand.

"Then who did?" West sarcastically threw at the lawman, not expecting an answer as he replaced the hammer of his gun and tossed it upon the bed.

"There is a community three miles south of Briggsby."

West faced the Marshall, "Pardon me?"

Marshall Rogers explained, "Three miles south of Briggsby is a small town that named itself 'Eden', strange stories been coming out of there since its beginning," he leaned back on the door, "The people don't speak much, kinda weird acting, like their not there if you know what I mean."

"How do you know so much about this community?" West quizzed.

The Marshall handed him a glass jar, "Because all the towns in the area see them about once a month, they make their living selling and trading goods for these." He pointed at the jar in Jim's swollen hands.

The jar had a label that wrapped around it, across the top in bold, black letters read: Eden's Premium Honey. The top and bottom edges had drawings of bees; one line heading one way and the opposite way on the other, in the middle was an intricately etched portrait of a smiling Elva Scranton.

15

It was approaching mid-afternoon as the Wanderer pounded the rails on its way to Pleasanton, a trail of black smoke, dissipating into the sky as the train rumbled through the countryside. Artemus Gordon had decided to abandon his Indian disguise and was in the lounge mulling over if he should don another character and if so, who should it be. He was also unsure of the counter-measures he and Dr. Welling had created; Artie, thinking back to the Shoshone village and the effectiveness of the weapon, was wishing that he had something more tangible to combat the insects. He had some equipment that he deemed necessary for the case laid out on the table. Two poison gas-grenades, his ankle holster and derringer, sleeping gas capsule, and his revolver, all was staring him in the face.

He was lost in thought, intently looking at the collection of weapons laid out in front of him. There had to be a counter-measure that he could employ, but what was it, he wondered.

Artemus sat back in his chair and glanced at his pocket watch; Briggsby was about ten minutes away and a puzzled Artemus was too busy wracking his brain to notice shadows moving on the rear deck of the car. The shifting and bumping of the train in transit masked the sounds of the intruders' movements upon the roof, finding the best vantage points to deliver their lethal packages.

Simultaneously, windows crashed from both sides of the cabin as two large canvas bags landed and skidded along the floor. They were loosely secured enabling their contents to pour out, hornets nests, broken in several places, leaked furious, flying insects into the car.

Artemus spun around in shock as the cabin started filling with a black and yellow, sentient whirlpool, darting madly about the room. The alarm sounded and Artie could barely hear it over the deafening drone of the insect's wings. Artemus recognized the chime; a bell tolled if anyone tried to open the doors of the car when the defense systems are activated. Obviously the intruder discovered that he couldn't open the door as one of its panel windows shattered and a canister spraying blue mist was thrown inside, bouncing a few feet in.

The blue fog was being swirled throughout the room, catching rides from the currents made by the rushing air from the windows, Artemus was almost frozen in amazement at how the mist was taken into the wind and carried by the swarm. He bolted for the hallway that led to the front of the car, the raging hornets close behind, Artie reached the sliding compartment door and flipped the secret switch to unlock it. The first of the hornets found his flesh, their stingers repeatedly assaulted his skin, Artie found the door to be jammed from the outside and a wave of panic washed over him, knowing that the door was fixed in place on purpose.

Pulling his jacket over his head, Gordon raced back down the hallway and burst into the first room he could find, some trinkets, framed photographs, and a red box fell onto the floor as Artie slammed the door behind him. Brushing away and killing the insects he had brought with him, Artemus realized that instead of the laboratory where he wanted to be he had entered Jim's quarters instead.

"Thank God James is trusting," he thought out loud, referring to the unlocked door and he slumped further onto the floor. His heart was racing and where he had been stung on his neck and forehead, was burning. He hoped that by the time the train reached Briggsby that most of the insects would be gone, sucked from the vacuum created by the speeding trains broken windows, but just in case, he needed a way out. He noticed the red box lying beside him, its' decorative bow peeking out from under the open lid and a small card was next to it. Picking up the card he read aloud, "Cassandra, for when we met again, James." He held up the gift, a delicate, white-laced camisole hung from Gordon's fingers, his face began to glow as an idea rushed through his mind.

**********

James West had gathered the dry clothes from outside and placed Tabitha's on the dresser where she could find them. Sunset was a couple of hours away and he wanted to infiltrate Eden as soon as it was dark. He got dressed and then he found a pencil and paper in the side table and began to write Tabitha some instructions.

He started with an apology followed by finding Artemus in Briggsby and having him escort her to the train. Tennyson would take care of her until his return. West folded the sheet in half and placed it upon her clothing and set her glasses on top. He peeked into her room one last time to check up on her before leaving, she was fast asleep, buried deep within the covers. Her angelic face, untouched from the attack, gave Jim a touch of relief as he left her resting, going off to pursue a monster.

Stopping at the Marshall's office before heading out, Jim asked the Marshall to keep watch over the Doctor and to make sure that she followed the instructions he had given. He then collected his horse from the livery stable and with a lash to his steeds hindquarters James West charged south, his ire growing the closer and closer he got to Eden.

16

The west was swallowing the sun and the light began disappearing from the landscape, the already drab buildings of Eden looked even more ominous as darkness slowly overtook the town. James West had been there for over two hours, scrutinizing the routines and actions of the townspeople. There was very little to observe; a person or two made their way about town, always at the turtle's pace he had witnessed by the would be assassin in Coopersville, before he sprang to life launching his foiled attack. Jim had circled the village and to its west was an incredible field, one the likes he had never seen, with rows upon rows of bee boxes, stretching across acres of land; Jim estimated that there was one and a half to two thousand boxes altogether and the thought of being caught there amidst the untold number of bees made him cringe, he made sure that he didn't trip any traps and he had found plenty.

All of the traps he had found consisted of a tripwire set-up and canisters that would explode, emitting what was most assuredly the blue mist to infuriate the winged residents of the orchard. West had deactivated a chosen few along a predetermined escape route so he wouldn't have to worry if he needed to quickly retreat.

From what he could make out, the town had no telegraph office and most of the activity centered on the church. There was no set pattern or times that they would come or go and Jim marked and counted the residents when they did; he had seen the 'reverend' he and Tabitha had encountered in Coopersville, along with twenty other men and thirteen women, but he had not seen Elva among them. The church was the epicenter of a great deal of activity within the town and that was where he would infiltrate at nightfall.

Of the buildings of Eden, the church was the largest, its steeple stretched high into the sky and the main division was wide and covered thirty-five to forty yards, to the rear of the building a house was attached, a tiny stream running north-east to south-west, sat six to seven yards beyond that. Plus it was the only structure kept in good repair, every other structure was falling apart. The vegetation around the town was extremely lush and vibrant, adding to the town's dilapidation and ruin.

As for livestock, a farm sat just on the other side of the stream, separating it from the rest of the town; it consisted of half dozen heifers and a few bulls, a chicken coop, and a dog. Most of the horses were in the stables at the easternmost point of the town. Besides the church, the farm was the most active, regular feedings and tending was given to the livestock, and its abundant fields maintained. There was a rotation of workers between the two sites but without any regard to timing or pattern. Some would remain working on the farm while others would periodically emerge from the church to assist those at the farmstead, then return. West noticed that aside from the farm animals, the surrounding area was void of any birds, chipmunks, or any other wild life.

Well into dusk, James felt confident to start in. He came in from the west, broadside the church, and pulled himself up to one of the windows listening for any activity inside. Not hearing anything, West dropped and headed for the front doors, flattening against the building, he peered around the corner. Some lights flickered from a few windows around the town, but there was no one presently on the street. West stalked to the church entrance and slowly tested the doors; there was a faint creak as the door swung out and West slipped in. Holding for a moment, Jim let his senses acclimate to the inside of the structure, his mind worked on deciphering all he could see, hear, smell, and feel. For a moment he couldn't figure out why he felt that he was not alone in the congregation, then he realized what he was hearing was not human, he adjusted his eyes toward the pitch blackness of the ceiling and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the scope of the hornets nest resting above. From what he could make out, it stretched the length of the structure; it weaved in and out of the crossbeams, and hung its widest from the middle. A stray hornet buzzed here and there, sending electric chills throughout Jim's body. West' previous stings came to life, aching and throbbing, only to harden his resolve and to press on.

West slowly hugged the wall, proceeding to the head of the church he had made it halfway there when the floor of the altar began to rise. He could make out three sets of footsteps as they walked by the pew West had slid under; he heard the creak of the door and the slam as it closed. He peered under the rows of pews along the floor, just catching sight of the altar floor as it lowered shut. Emerging from his hiding place, West went to examine the secret door, skimming the seams, searching for a way in. Suddenly it opened, Jim spun around the door, using it as cover, he waited as two more people came out, and as they headed for the rear of the church, Jim glanced inside. All he could see was a set of stairs coming to an end on a dirt floor, bathed by flickering torchlight.

West silently and unflinchingly descended into the cavern as the floor kicked into gear and started to fall. Jim watched as the trick door closed and latched shut, he withdrew his revolver and started down the rocky hall. He was no more than twelve feet in when he recognized the odor lofting towards him, not as strong as the application, but it was the blue mist nonetheless. Sounds of production echoed off the walls, pistons and the metallic grinding of gears. The coolness of the fissure gradually warmed to the point that Jim began to perspire and he removed his hat to wipe his brow with his forearm. He reached the end of the tunnel and cautiously looked in.

From the catwalk he saw a row of vats lining the middle of the spacious cave, each vat contained boiling liquids that gradually changed color from vat to vat along its route, ending in the last vat the dark blue shade of the mist. People approached the giant kettles and added ingredients only to gather more and zombie-like, repeat the process again. Others fed coal to furnaces, heating boilers attached to the vats at a sluggish but unbroken pace.

The stairs leading to the production floor was well lit and West had to find another way down, he spied on the other side of the catwalk a series of ropes and chains, obviously used to haul the finished product to the surface. He stealthily clung to the shadows, finding his way to the other side and using one of the ropes, climbed into the pit. When he reached the floor he noticed the lift system that elevated a platform to somewhere on the surface above. He spied a control panel used to raise and lower the platform using a succession of weights that ran along the walls as the counter balance.

Once on the floor, Jim was able to study the operation more closely while sticking to the crevasses and corners, remaining out of sight. A whistle blew and the vats began to sputter and whine, each one filling the next, and the workers filed up the staircase and out the tunnel from where West came.

With everyone gone Jim was able to move freely in the complex, he studied the large vats and the tables holding the various ingredients. Bowls and jars of different sizes and shapes were on the tables, holding different colored mixtures, mostly in powder form, along with an array of tools; grinding stones, small knives, and sharp probes. Wicker baskets sat on both sides of each table, one held dead insects and the other, parts of insects.

"It is a painstaking process."

Startled, West turned to face the voice.

Ten feet away stood a tall, thin man in black, "Do not be surprised, I know everything that happens in my hive," he slowly stepped toward West, "We was aware of your presence since you entered the tunnel."

"We?" Jim glanced around.

Five men appeared from the shadows, stopping alongside the man in black.

"Normally, you would have been confronted well before now," the tall man ended up in the light, West saw the deep furrows of his face, the sunken eyes, and his worn features, yet he could tell the man was far from vulnerable, "You are, sir?"

"James West," Elva answered while descending the stairs.

"Well," the man in black returned his attention to West, "I have been looking forward in meeting you, Mr. West," the emotionless men began to move towards Jim, the man in black beamed as he continued, "My name is Reverend Ezra Stone, welcome to Eden."