Black Bird of the Gallows(81)

My breath comes in long wheezes as I slow the ailing Bus down the shaft. The tunnel was designed for trucks to get inside, but I don’t know how far I should—or can—go. It narrows and snakes off in different directions into the mountain.

Despite the high ceiling of the tunnel, Volkswagen Buses were not intended to drive through such places. I come to a full stop, hands shaking so badly, putting the Bus in park comes only after an epic fight with the gearshift. The sudden quiet and darkness is disorienting. I swivel in my seat and look back. I can’t judge the distance, but the tunnel opening is a prick of dim evening light, pretty far back there. The bees coil in a huge, furious knot at the entrance. But they don’t follow us in here.

I turn off the key and sag against the seat. I—and the Bus—let out rasping sighs of relief.

The smell of honey is replaced by cool, damp earth and overworked engine. With reluctance, I switch off the headlights. We may need the battery. The dark corridor ahead plunges into darkness. The only light comes from the opening far behind us. And that is fading by the second. Night will arrive soon.

Deno slaps my seat. “I can’t believe we just did that. Good thing I knew about this mine, eh?”

I’m too exhausted to respond. But if I wasn’t, I’d remind him that his role was limited to a lot of pointing and yelling in my ear. Getaway drivers are underappreciated.

Reece reaches over and finds my hand. “Nice driving.”

I sit still, listening to my heart hammer away at my ribs. “I never want to do that again. Ever.”

“I hope you never have to.”

I will, probably. We have to leave the mine at some point. There’s really no telling how long the bees can—or will—lay siege to us.

Deno lets out a loud, maniacal whoop. He flings open the door and jumps out.

“What is he doing?” I ask.

Lacey lets out a startled noise as we hear the sound of Deno’s feet crunching on gravel. A vile stream of profanity flows from his mouth. He’s walking somewhere, but it’s too dark to see anything.

“He’s gonna get lost out there.” Lacey grabs Reece’s arm. “Stop him! Please!”

Reece lets out a curse himself, and slams out of the Bus. “Lights, please, Angie.”

I pull on the headlights. Lacey and I watch, faces pressed to the glass as he rushes to Deno. I’m not worried about Reece. He’s a hockey player, which I assume means he’s used to being in fights. Deno knows more about digital mixers and obscure bands than throwing punches. Hopefully Reece won’t actually hurt him.

The boys’ voices are muffled, but I can see Reece trying to reason with Deno. There’s a brief, heated discussion, but it does no good. Deno waves his arms and tries to take a swing at Reece. Lacey lets out a yelp as Deno misses by a mile and winds up taking Reece’s right fist neatly on the jaw. Deno goes down, and Reece catches him in the midsection with one arm, knocking the wind out of Deno.

Reece returns to the Bus, dragging a mumbling, semiconscious Deno. He hauls my friend onto the floor of the back of the Bus and begins fiddling with Deno’s clothes. “Did you pack a flashlight?” he asks Lacey.

“I think so.” She climbs in the back to dig through the backpack and returns with my dad’s small mag light.

Reece takes the flashlight and shines it on Deno’s neck. He purses his lips. “Help me pull up his shirt, please.”

Lacey blinks in confusion but untucks Deno’s shirt from his pants. “What are you doing?”

“Checking for something.”

She yanks Deno’s shirt up his back. “What, exactly?”

Reece sweeps the flashlight over Deno’s lower back. His breath hisses through his teeth. He aims the beam on Deno’s lower back and an angry red spot with white striations curling from the sting like frayed lace. “That.”

Lacey leans forward. “What is that?”

“Exactly what I was afraid of.”

Panic knots my gut. “It’s a Beekeeper sting.”

Reece rubs his hands over his face and nods. “I suspected. It’s why I wanted us to stay together—to keep an eye on him. He’s dangerous. You remember that nice young man who came to the college parking lot with a gun?”

I jerk back. “No. Deno could never do that.”

“He’s been stung by a Beekeeper,” Reece says grimly. “He’s capable of far worse.”

“No,” I say again. “How can we fix this?”

He flicks off the flashlight. “We can’t.”

Lacey shifts around next to us. “Are you saying he was stung by one of those bees?” Her voice goes shrill. “And now he’s going to go homicidal maniac on us?”

Reece wisely takes his time with a reply. He turns the flashlight on again and shows Lacey the sting. “See those white marks fanning out? They tell me this sting didn’t just happen. It’s at least a day old. By now, the infected person is usually out of control, psychotic.”

“But Deno wasn’t like that,” Lacey says.

Neither was my mother. But look how she ended up. I wrap my arms tight around my middle and breathe through the chill rattling me. It’s unthinkable that Deno will spiral slowly into psychosis or that he’ll snap and try to kill us.

“Deno was sane,” Reece agrees. “He just got kind of…nasty.”