attack?”
Her smile widened. Will had the uncomfortable feeling she was enjoying this. “They won’t, trust me. I started helping my dad collect swarms when I was about ten years old.”
“Won’t they just, uh, freak out and take off?”
Annie shook her head. “They want to stay with the queen.” She positioned the ladder closer to the branch with the swarm and began to climb, saw in hand.
Will felt his heart speed up. He was certain the swarm would either attack her or head immediately for him, and wondered how much protection the cardboard box would offer. Instantly, he had an image of his hapless cartoon self being chased by bees into a river. Annie began to saw at the branch.
“Okay,” Annie said quietly. “I’m almost through. All set? By the way—”
Here it comes, Will thought. The disclaimer that puts a lie to every assurance she’s just given me.
“Sure you’re okay?” She was frowning down at him. “You look a bit pale.”
I’m a firefighter for God’s sake, he wanted to say. I’ve tackled far more dangerous jobs than this. But nothing came out.
“I was about to say that after I lower the branch inside the box, all you have to do is carry it over to the tarpaulin and set it on the ground. Gently. As I said, it’s going to be heavy so don’t let the sudden weight catch you off guard. Okay?”
He nodded and managed to inch closer to the branch. He raised the box until it was poised a mere four or five inches away from the tip of the pendulum of bees. His sweaty hands gripped the cardboard.
Annie made one last cut with the saw, which she then dropped to the ground. Will knew at once what she’d meant by weight. He could hear her breathing heavily as she struggled to slowly lower the branch into the box.
Will’s grasp gave slightly at the heft of the swarm. He heard Annie clamber down the ladder but his eyes were fixed on the top of the box as he headed for the canvas.
“You’re doing great,” she called out behind him.
He’d have made some glib remark about hollow praise but was trying not to trip. Annie was standing at the edge of the tarpaulin by the time he reached it, smiling encouragement as he set it down.
“Okay. I’ll take it from here.”
Will watched her carefully tip the contents of the box onto the canvas. Then she moved back to where he was standing and took off her hat and gloves. “Thanks.”
He smiled, unable to take his eyes off the bees. The swarm began to break up, moving across the canvas tarpaulin toward the opening in the bottom super.
“So they’re just going to go inside now?”
“Yep. It won’t take too long. Maybe half an hour. I might have to brush some of them off the branch to hurry them along.”
“And they’ll start up another hive in there?”
“That’s right. Look, there’s the queen. She’s the large oval-shaped one with the three stripes on her back.”
Will leaned over the tarpaulin and, after a few seconds, spotted the much larger queen. “She looks like royalty,” he said, “the way she’s marching across the canvas.”
“Yeah. Dad says it’s the equivalent of the royal wave.” She placed a hand on his forearm. “It’s natural to be wary of a swarm. I guess many of us remember getting stung as kids. And of course, some people are allergic.” Her face clouded over. “God, I never thought to ask if you were allergic.”
“It’s okay. I was stung once and nothing much happened so I guess I’m not.” She’d removed the bee suit and the front of her tank top clung to her in a large,damp V. Will glanced at her hand on his arm, instantly regretting it when she pulled it away. He’d liked the feel of her warmth against his bare skin.
His eyes drifted to her face, still flushed with the exertion of bringing down the branch. A drop of perspiration clung to one eyebrow and a strand of hair was plastered to her forehead.
Abruptly he turned his attention back to the swarm. “You were right. They’re almost all
Robert Ludlum, Eric Van Lustbader