Chapter Twelve“Hello? Anybody there, man? This is freedom fighter in Uttar Pradesh, India, calling. My name, Aadab Ali, Allah be praised. Anybody want to come help?” There was no response from his homeland, only from other countries with like tales of ruin and death.
Aadab monitored the airwaves, picking up static and broadcasts from all over the world, all of them the same. The invaders had destroyed the land, and the people were helpless against them.
He had kept the power going in the small village of Hardiwar on his return, even after most of the village was burned. He thought there might be other Indians who would be attracted to the lights.
Then he thought of the bees.
“They also would be attracted by the lights if they come back,” he muttered. “I think it smarter that I stay her
