Bottled Up

As much as he wanted to kill it, he couldn’t. No matter how many times he smacked his sandal down on it, the fuzzy red ant would just vanish into the soft, hot sand only to reappear dustier, angrier–stinging at the air in contorted retaliation. 

“Somebody bring me a cup or something,” said Mr. Bauer, holding out his hand while his eyes were fixed downward. He just wanted to destroy the bug and move on. It had been a long day at Bear Lake, a mostly good day, but nearing the end of a long week. Mr. Bauer was the director of Bright Horizons Youth Home, and it was their annual summer retreat. And now the hot sun–which first enticed them into the blue water–had begun to beat on them with an intensity only possible at such high elevations. Sunburns had already set in, despite regular applications of sunscreen and a canvas awning set up as a refuge.

As for the “troubled” teens, they had been playing for a couple of hours out on the water, riding paddle boards and wrestling on a large floating mat. Mr. Bauer had been lost in thought amid the gentle lake tides, bobbing up and down in his personal kayak. Then the pesky ant appeared, causing a couple of the girls to scream enough that it wrenched him from meditation and brought him trudging back up the beach. 

“Here you go,” said one of the girls, handing him a plastic cup. “Maybe you can just catch it, Mr. Bauer.” They watched him slap the sand with his flip-flop, surprised at the level of viciousness and frustration he displayed while doing it. 

“I just want to kill it, but no…that would be too easy.” 

In resignation, Mr. Bauer quickly placed the cup over the insect and then paused to think about how this was really just another ridiculous diversion in a list of diversions lately. The day had been going smoothly until now, but Mr. Bauer knew what it meant to dance with unpredictability–with the sporadic nature of teen life. While this did cause him definite suffering, he was mostly pained by the mundane operational headaches he dealt with daily along with a realization of the crushing permanency of his career choice–a reality that always seemed to be running in the background of his mind. He had invested incalculable amounts of life energy and heaps of money into what he now saw as only a job–a drudgery guaranteed to bring an endless stream of stress for not enough money. It had begun as high aspiration, but now he feared he was headed for the worst of all vocational train wrecks–the confluence of tedium and trouble. 

“Can I see what’s under the cup?” said a voice approaching from behind. The question snapped Mr. Bauer out of his brooding. When he turned to look, he saw Koi Turner, a gangly fifteen year old coming up from the water. He was a boy whose parents had died in a murder-suicide, and he had been struggling with drugs ever since. 

“Why do you want to see it?” Mr. Bauer asked. “It’s just a bug that made the girls freak out.” 

“Well Mrs. Granger said it was red and fuzzy. I just want to see if it’s a Cow Killer.” Mrs. Granger was one of the other counselors assigned to the group. She had been close to the girls when they first saw the bug, but had been unwilling to do anything about it, even when it started crawling toward the beach chairs. Instead, she walked down to the water’s edge, nervously sipping a Coke. 

“A Cow Killer?” Mr. Bauer asked in exasperation. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if this is a joke, I’m not in the mood. I’m just going to transfer it to this glass bottle and take it over to that field and chuck it.” 

“Please can I just see it first?” Koi asked again. “I’m not joking. And if it’s what I think it is, I might be interested in keeping it for my biology teacher to see.” 

“Give me a break,” Bauer said, and he scooped up the ant, along with a load of sand, and was about to hurl it like a football from where he stood. Instead, he paused. 

“Fine,” he said. “Come look at it first then.” 

A satisfied smile came over Koi’s face, and he brushed back his long damp hair while approaching. His skin was white and still slathered with sunscreen. He looked down inside the bottle, but saw only sand, coming halfway up. Then, after a moment, and in characteristic fashion, the bug emerged and Koi let out a gasp. 

“It is a Cow Killer,” he said. “Holy shit. It’s not actually an ant, it’s a wingless wasp and it has one of the most painful stings in the world. Some people call it the velvet ant, but, again, it’s really a wasp.” 

“I can’t believe you guys sometimes,” Mr. Bauer said. “Too smart for your own good. Of course you would know something about that kind of subject.” He shifted his weight in the sand and put his hands behind his head. He was a larger man, “big boned” as he liked to think of himself. He grew up on a farm where bugs didn’t deserve any amount of attention or life energy, other than to spray them or smash them. The sun was coming down on his forehead and there were little beads of sweat which caused the front of his hair to be damp. He had already been out of the water too long. But he was done with the beach anyway, and he was done with the trip. 

The other kids, excluding Koi and the two girls who were still watching, were out on the water paddle boarding and splashing. By now, Mr. Bauer just wanted to call them all back to the van and send everyone home. 

“I’m telling you,” Koi insisted. “Don’t let him climb out of the bottle or get onto your hand. If he stings you, it will be thirty minutes of excruciating pain. Luckily no one stepped on it with bare feet.”

Mr. Bauer began to laugh, but caught himself. He had challenged assertions of teen knowledge many times before, and in the early days of his career, he was nearly always found to be superior in his understanding. He thought about picking up the bug and throwing it at all of them, just to scare them after Koi’s speech. But during the past few years, he had observed how the kids were often right whenever there was a dispute about facts, especially trivial facts. Maybe it was because they were the first generation to have been spoon-fed by the internet. At least that’s what he believed whenever he found himself outmaneuvered.

“Well I’m done with this,” Mr. Bauer said. “Here you go. Keep him if you want, but it’s all on you now. Just keep the bottle in your backpack on the way home.” He put the lid on the bottle tightly and handed it to Koi, who got his backpack out from under the awning and put the bottle inside it. Mrs. Granger had returned from the water’s edge and was starting to clean up. 

“Come on everyone, let’s go,” Mr. Bauer yelled and he waved at the kids out on the water. There was a young youth counselor named Tim Jorgensen, who had been out on a paddleboard doing lifeguard duty. He had been far enough away from the commotion, that he was unaware anything had happened. When Tim came ashore, he brought the kids along with him and they all began toweling off and packing up. 

“I told the driver to come and get us by 4:30,” Mr. Bauer said. “We need to get back down the mountain anyway. We’re just going to have dinner in town.” 

When the fifteen passenger van arrived, the beachgoers were mostly dried and brushed off. Koi was the last to board, and he was scrolling his phone as he climbed up inside. He moved awkwardly toward the back seat. There wasn’t any conversation at this point; everyone was tired. The van pulled out and began to travel along the farm roads, which were dotted with little wetlands full of waterfowl. Canada Geese lounged in small flocks along the cattails, and two gigantic white pelicans trolled the water like pirate ships, their long orange beaks easily visible from a distance. They passed up the mountain grade into the pine forests now aglow with the fiery rays of sunset. Along the roadside, the river flowed out of Bear Lake, meandering and glittering its way through lush stands of willow. There were even a couple of beaver dams that could be seen down in the stream bottom, and one of the kids said something briefly about spotting a moose. They were five miles down the canyon before any conversation began. 

“So, what was going on up at the tent earlier?” a boy named Trent finally said. “What were you guys all talking about, and why was Bauer hitting the ground like that?” It was silent for a while. No one dared answer.

“Oh, we just saw a weird looking bug,” said one of the girls. “It made Jenna scream and Mr. Bauer was trying to kill it. It was nothing.” She looked up toward Mr. Bauer, who was sitting just behind the driver seat. He hadn’t turned around until now, but when he heard them saying his name, he glanced backward.

“So, what did you do with the bug?” Trent pressed. 

“Oh, it’s kind of a long story actually,” the girl said. There was a long pause, but Trent was still looking around at the group as if expecting a response.

“It’s here in my backpack,” Koi finally admitted. 

“Oh my gosh, why did you keep it? What a loser thing to do,” Trent said. “Never mind, I forgot you were a freak, so it makes sense.” 

Koi glared at Trent. There had been trouble between them before. In fact, they had nearly come to blows two weeks ago at the dorm when Trent tripped Koi as he was coming out of his room. Trent had a way of getting under Koi’s skin, making all his insecurities (which were many) bubble to the surface. 

“Let’s not get into this now,” Mr. Bauer said from the front of the van, trying to control the temperature. They rounded a curve in the canyon and the van leaned. The driver had been paying attention to the conversation and seemed troubled about the thought of there being a dangerous bug onboard. 

“Let me see it,” Trent demanded, and he unbuckled his seat belt and leaned back toward Koi.

“Trent, sit back down and face forward,” Mr. Bauer commanded. Mrs. Granger chimed in too, but less forcefully. 

“Trent, now is not the time,” she said. 

Trent was on his knees now, leaning over the seat back and reaching. Koi’s face was drawn down, and he had turned his torso sideways, tucking the backpack under his arm. It was a tight space inside the van, and he had nowhere to escape. The girls and two other boys were quiet and leaning against the windows. Outside, there was a blur of green pine and black shadow.

“Show it to me, or I’ll come back there and take it,” Trent said again, this time more loudly. 

“You don’t want to see this bug,” Koi said. “It doesn’t look like anything harmful, but if it stings you, you’ll wish you were dead.” 

Mr. Bauer unbuckled his seat belt and so did Tim Jorgensen.   

   “Trent, sit down or we’ll have to stop the van,” Tim said. Up until now he had been characteristically reserved, but he was turned and seemed to be bracing himself to physically restrain someone.

“Fine, jerk,” Koi finally yelled, as Trent began to put his knee over the seat back. “You want to see it? Then here it is.” 

Koi reached into the backpack and pulled out the glass bottle, halfway full of beach sand. 

“Koi, put it back,” Mr. Bauer cried. “I don’t want the bottle to break here inside the van.” Koi pushed his arm out so that the bottle was right in front of Trent’s nose. 

“I can’t see anything,” Trent said. “It’s too dusty inside, and the van is moving around too much.” Trent reached out to grab the bottle, but Koi pulled it back. When he did so, his elbow caught an arm rest and suddenly the bottle dropped to the floor and began rolling around beneath the seats. The girls were screaming again, and the driver jerked the steering wheel in response. Trent was thrown sideways, hitting a window with his head. Mr. Bauer was also thrown forward into the driver seat back, which made the driver pull on the wheel even harder, overcorrecting onto the opposite shoulder. Then the van began to skid sideways and nearly careening into the stream bed had it not been for a thick stand of willows. When it came to a stop, they were still thankfully upright. 

No one was injured. Even Trent and Mr. Bauer seemed unharmed. The van driver was able to get out and survey the scene. It appeared there was little damage to the van, and he was able to pull it back up onto the roadway by its own power. Before they moved on, however, he told them that the bottle would have to go or he wouldn’t drive another mile. They found the bottle near the luggage in the back, still intact. Koi picked it up and looked inside. He could see the ant, but it was lifeless. He took the bottle outside and opened it. Using a stick, he poked at the bug but even that couldn’t get it to move. It was dead and probably had been since they left the beach.

“All this for a dead bug,” he muttered, loud enough that most of them could hear. "How ironic." 

Mr. Bauer bowed his head and put his hands on his hips. Mrs. Granger sighed and double checked that the girls were okay. They loaded back up in the van, all except for Koi, who was still holding the bottle at his side. He took a picture of it with his phone. The driver started the engine, and then Koi reared back and launched the bottle into a large pile of boulders along the stream bank. The glass shattered, sending the contents blasting in all directions. Koi got back in the van, avoiding eye contact with anyone else.

Soon they were on their way again, driving silently down the canyon. They still had problems on their minds, but they no longer felt like doing anything about them.