Right away I know the bridge can’t hold either of us.  As we approach it, I realize the two anchoring beams have been gnawed at by an animal leaving them weak and  as thin as my wrist.  It’s clear that Astig doesn’t know how badly the bridge is anchored because he hasn't changed  direction.  I’m about to warn him when the sickening thought reveals itself from the locked drawer in the back of my mind.  There’s only enough supplies for one person to make it, and there are two of us.  I think to myself.

    Out of all the punishments, this has to be the cruelest one.  All I did was take an extra piece of bread for my sick daughter, and they dump us into the woods.  If we find our way back we will be allowed in.  Police officers have gotten less considerate in the last few years.
    My dad was a police officer.  Every day I would meet him at his office and he would tell me the same thing; “Criminals are like bees, they will sting anything that gets in their way.”  He was reported missing when I was twelve years old.  Every day I would go to his office and wait for him to return. He never did.  It crushed me when I finally let the fact that he was gone sink in.  I felt like a torn bag of marbles, spilling marbles everywhere.
    I have children too, a daughter of eight and a son of eleven.  An image passes through me sharp as lightning.  They’re standing at the gate of the fence, holding hands, my girl’s eyes glimmering with hope, my boy’s eyes glimmering with tears.  They are waiting for me.  I can’t let them suffer the way I did.  I won't let them suffer the way I did.
    I look away as Astig steps on to the badly anchored bridge.
   
    At the gate Astig’s family is waiting as well.  His mother is asking where he is.  “Dead”, I reply.
    “How did he die”, someone manages to squeak out.
    “A bee.”