Todd and Shorty positioned themselves about three feet from the mound, on opposite sides. Each held a lance. The pointed tip, against the ground, was threaded like an auger. The near end was clamped in a power drill, with a quick release chuck.
Everyone was ready.
“Before we go,” Todd said, “I have a somber little ritual I started in Bolivia.” From the top of his shirt, he pulled a small plastic cross. It was painted gold and encrusted with fake jewels. “A little boy gave this to me, and he reminded me that ants are magnificent little machines. A symbol of industry, a fount of biodiversity, an endless source of marvel and mystery. But, unfortunately, we can’t have them here.” He kissed the cross, looked down and whispered, “I’m sorry, little guys.”
After a moment of silence, he steeled himself and said, “Ready?”
Zoe and Shorty nodded.
“OK, ready, set, go! Start the timer!”
Todd and Shorty flew into action.
Within seconds, Todd had drilled his pipe almost all the way down, leaving only a few inches above ground. Then, with one practiced move, he picked up another lance with the toe of his boot and flicked it into the air. He caught it mid-air, swung it around and screwed it onto the first pipe, slapping the drill onto it.
“Time!” he shouted.
“15 seconds, mate!”
Shorty had her first lance in, but was struggling with the extender. It made an audible twang and bent in the middle. The power drill almost leapt from her hand.
“I’ve hit something! A rock or—-”
“Forget it!” Todd shouted. “Move on!”
“25 seconds!”
Todd finished his extender and then rushed to help Shorty complete a full-length probe.
“35!”
“We have two good ones in—let’s hope that’s enough!”
“Hook up the hoses!”
Shorty jumped around the mound, snap-fitting hoses onto pipes, including the bent one.
“Time?”
“45!”
“Are we set?”
Shorty tugged at the hoses, checking the connections.
“Shorty!”
“50!”
Shorty flew from the mound, hands over her face. “Clear!”
Todd threw a switch on the water tank and the hoses twisted and writhed. Boiling water pulsed through the connectors, through the probes and deep into the mound.
“Time?”
“Just under a minute!”
Steam rose from the ruins of the ant hill.
Deep underground, ants were drowning by the thousands.
“So what was the point of this?” Zoe held up the stopwatch.
“Ants don’t care much about vibrations on the surface.” Todd kicked the generator. “But once you start drilling into their nest, they know something’s up. They don’t know what. Maybe they think it’s an anteater or pangolin. But their first instinct is to move the queen to safety. We got to get in there before they do.”
“Did we?”
“We’ll see.”
A few minutes later, a small dark spot appeared at the base of the mound. A single droplet of water appeared, then was re-absorbed. Then a trickle of water broke through.
A breach in the wall formed, and a rivulet ran out, hot, steaming.
And full of ant bodies.
Perhaps, though, they were merely stunned. Todd poked the ants with a stick. Yup, they were dead.
“Ace!” Zoe exclaimed.
“Now, we wipe them out, mound to mound.”
“Bonza, mate!” Zoe clapped her hands. “Quick question, though. What are you pumping in there? Smells like…lager.”
“It’s just water.” Todd sniffed the air. Then he tasted the muddy water running out of the mound. “Must be washing out. You know, some ants are farmers like you. Some grow fungi for food. Some grow Aeromonas bacteria to make oxygen. These are apparently growing yeast. Maybe getting a buzz off the alcohol. Weird. I’ve never seen that in this species before—-”
“Cooee!” Shorty called out, pointing at the mound. “Over here!”
The rivulet running from the mound had coughed up a lump. It wasn’t a clod of mud, but dead ant bodies, riding the surface tension. It was a carefully assembled raft, the ants linked one to another, mandible clamping to leg or antennae. They were all drowned, except the one they had sacrificed themselves for. This one paced back and forth on the raft, walking on the heads of her dead sisters.
“Oh no,” Shorty said.
A second, larger clump rode the stream, out of the wrecked mound. It, too, was a tangled mass of linked ant bodies. As the water petered out, it grounded on dry land. The ball unfolded, revealing a single live ant in the center. It was larger than the others, its abdomen distended, with white lines clearly delineating the segments.
“They saved a queen!” Todd shouted.
“It’s like an escape pod, made of ants!” Shorty said.
“I thought they all carked it!” Zoe said.
As they watched the queen ant drag herself toward safety, Todd mumbled to Zoe, “Maybe it is time for your shovel, after all.”
Zoe used her shovel.
Then Shorty asked, “So, what do we do now?”
“I could have a go at the pipes, too,” Zoe said. Having grown up fixing tractors and disc harrows, she was quite mechanically inclined.
“Yeah,” Todd considered. “With three of us drilling, we should be able to put in enough lances.”
Half an hour later, all three were dancing around another ant mound. Metal probes flew through the air, as Todd counted aloud, One Mississippi, Two Mississippi.
By the time he had reached Fifty, they had four full-length pipes in the ground, hoses firmly attached.
Todd threw the switch.
And hot water sprayed everywhere.
Shorty screamed, as she and Zoe ran from the mound. The connectors were secure—Shorty had done her job. But arcs of hot, pressurized water were shooting out of leaks in the hoses. Water jets, backlit by the setting sun, glowed like Roman candles.
Todd slammed the switch closed.
“What just happened?”
“Those were new hoses!” Todd flicked hot water off his face. “Were.”
“Do you think enough water got down there?” Zoe asked.
“Doubtful.”
“Are there more hoses in the truck?” Todd asked.
“In the ute?” Shorty said. “Nah. Heaps more lances, but no more hoses.”
“I’ve got hoses,” Zoe said. “This is a farm, after all.”
“But these are special,” Todd said. “The hot water would ruin a regular hose.”
“Oh.”
“We’ll bring more hoses tomorrow. I think we’re done for the day. It’s getting dark, anyway.”
“Ready to haul it back to Adelaide?” Shorty asked. “My professor should be back from the bush by now.”
“It’ll be nice to finally meet her,” Todd said.
As Todd and Shorty loaded the equipment into the ute, Shorty said, “Do you think the ants chewed through the hoses?”
“I sure hope not,” Todd said. “But we should spray them with repellent anyway.” He turned very serious. “Have you been keeping up with all the reports of ant activity around here?”
“No, why?”
“They’re all over southern Australia,” Todd said. “Port Pirie, Broken Hill. They’re invading factories, bakeries and clean rooms. They ate a wedding cake in Wyalla.”
“What are they doing?” Shorty asked.