Buzz (The Riley Brothers Book 1) (17 page)

For a Wednesday afternoon, there were a surprising number of people out and about. As they crossed the bridge to the heart of downtown, Noah leaned in to murmur to Cameron, “I think they're all skipping work today.”

The weather was gorgeous enough, after all. They hardly needed their jackets, and the sun was bright on their faces.

“They could all be retail shift workers,” Cameron retorted with a laugh. “Or students. Or just have the day off, like you.”

Noah was off because he'd worked the last weekend, but he couldn't complain. The lunch date had broken up his weekend. “Right, right,” he dismissed Cameron with a laugh. “I think they're all skiving.”

“Skiving,” Cameron repeated with a laugh. “What a word.”

Noah's pocket buzzed with the distinctive ringtone he'd assigned to Uncle Bill. It had made him laugh when he'd done it, but now it seemed a little... on the nose. “Hold on, my phone's--”

“Tell me that isn't Bill.”

“Uh... it might be.” Noah fished out his phone, his cheeks hot. “I thought it was clever.” The buzzing sound stopped when he answered. “Hello?”

It was indeed his uncle, and his voice was dead serious. It melted the smile from Noah's face. “Noah, there's a problem at the yard.”

“Shit. Which one?”

“The corner lot. A bear.”

“No,” Noah whispered, a chill running down his spine. He let go of Cameron's hand and adjusted the phone against his ear. “You need cleanup help?”

“Yeah. It must have been last night, when that bear report came in. I decided to check the yard this morning just in case. Good thing, too. Some of the hives haven't swarmed yet, but they'll be close.”

“Did it go through the fence?”

Uncle Bill's voice was clipped. “Fence was off. Can you make it in?”

“Yeah, I'm off.” Cameron was gesturing at himself. “Hold on.” Noah covered the phone. “You want to help, too? Bear in the yard.” He sped up his steps and Cameron kept pace.

“I heard,” Cameron murmured and nodded. He was pale. “I'm coming, as long as I won't be in the way.”

“No, you'll be helpful.” Noah felt relieved to have one more pair of hands, even if Cameron might be a little shy at first. This would get him over
that
. Noah had only been to one destroyed yard before, but it had been a hell of an experience. “Hey, Uncle Bill, Cam's coming too. He'll give me a ride so we'll be there ASAP. You got gear for us?”

“Yep. See you.”

Noah shoved his phone in his pocket and glanced at Cameron as they walked. His nervousness was in turn unnerving for Noah to see. “You sure you'll be okay?”

“Fine,” Cameron answered, his voice tight. “Is that the yard we went to?”

“Yeah.”

“Does he visit a lot?”

“Probably not, if he's been running around unwrapping other hives. Why?”

Cameron winced so hard Noah thought he must be in some physical pain. His steps sped up even more and Noah had to trot to keep pace with him. “Not since we were there?”

Noah drew breath to answer, then stopped in his tracks. Cameron grabbed his arm to pull him along. “Shit. Oh, no.” Fuck. Cam was
right
.

They hadn't turned the fence on after he'd shown Cameron the yard.

Had they?

He searched his memory. He remembered hooking the gate back on, laughing with Cameron, walking to the car...

Not turning the fence on.

“Oh, fucking
shit
,” Noah whispered and let Cameron pull him back into a half-jogging pace. “You're right.”

“I'm sorry,” Cameron murmured, his voice hoarse. “I must have distracted you...”

“No, it's my fault. That's a basic... that's so basic it's
stupid
,” Noah groaned. Cameron led them across the road to the cafe where Cam had parked, and Noah circled to the driver's side. “I'm at fault.”

Noah was glad Cameron was driving, since his hands shook.

Silence fell for a minute while Noah ripped himself apart for the stupid mistake. If the hives were all gone, that would be down to him. The gear was expensive, too, and that wasn't counting the loss of bees and honey. And the loss of life: bears ate bees, and many would have died attacking it.

And, shit, Cameron's heart!

“Oh, are you--” Noah wasn't quite sure how to ask this. He looked carefully at Cameron to make sure his paleness wasn't from his heart condition. “Are you okay with the stress?”

Cameron sensed his thoughts and reached out to squeeze his thigh. “Hey,” he murmured to get Noah's attention. “I'm okay. What happened... happened. I can't be sheltered from everything. We just have to clean up and make amends now, right?”

“Yeah.”

“As long as it's not playoff stress, I'm all right.”

That got Noah to smile weakly, at least. Was Cam the type to not shave his beard until the playoffs ended? “The Moncton game won't be that bad,” he promised.

Cameron paused, a frown line between his brows for a few moments before he nodded. “Oh, right. Yeah.”

They hadn't been on the same page just then, but Noah didn't have time to worry about it. He had a huge mistake to make up for, and one that affected more than just his family.

Uncle Bill was going to be pissed, and please God let it be at him alone. Noah
really
hoped he hadn't gotten Cameron fired before he even began his apprenticeship.

When they pulled up near the field, gravel crunching, Cameron parked in the same spot as before. There were a few open rubber tubs at the top of the driveway. He spotted white bee suits, some silver and bright blue things poking out of the tubs, and a bag of straw and grass.

Noah was over his brief moments of crushing guilt and into action mode. “Okay,” Noah said, hopping out and slamming the car door. “We'll get suited up. He always has a few spare suits kicking around, so they must be in here.”

Cameron smelled wood smoke from nearby. He'd been reading up on bee books in his spare time lately, but there was nothing like hands-on experience. “Is that--”

“The smokers, yeah,” Noah nodded. “I'll show you how to use those, too.” He was rummaging through bins. “Large?”

“Yeah.”

“Here you go.” Noah handed him a suit, and Cameron swallowed hard.
This is the trial by fire.
It unzipped, so he pulled down the zipper and pulled the hood back. Elastics around the ankles and... those must be sleeves...

“I just step in, right?”

“Oh, crap. Right.” Noah was already halfway into his suit and Cam watched him kick off his shoes, to shove his legs through the suit legs “I'll help get it done up.”

Cam imitated Noah's movements, leaning against the car to keep his balance when he pulled off one shoe at a time. He pulled the suit up around him, noticing the way the shoulders stretched out. The suit was almost a little small for his broad frame, but it would do its job. Thank God he'd worn his sneakers for the walk around town and over the bridge – he didn't mind them getting muddy.

When he was in with it zipped up, Cameron fidgeted with the hood, twisting to get a look at it. Noah had pulled it up and zipped it up in ten seconds flat.

“Look straight ahead,” Noah coached, pulling the hood down and zipping it up. Cameron didn't even have the heart to acknowledge the tingle of chemistry between them as Noah's fingers brushed his chin.

“There.”

“I'm safe?”

Noah circled around him and double-checked each zipper, then nodded. “With gloves, you will be. And better boots.”

He rummaged through another tub and pulled out gumboots. “I hope you're around size nine or ten.”

“Yeah, nine and a half.”

“Jesus, there's a bit of luck. Nines or tens? I can do either.”

“I'll take the tens.”

Noah crouched near a box lighting piles of straw inside two silver tubular bellows while coaching him through pulling the suit ankles around the boots. Then, Noah handed one over to him. “Don't touch the metal. It'll take a couple minutes to really get burning.”

“Right. You've... done this a lot?” Noah seemed to know his shit. Why hadn't
he
done an apprenticeship with his uncle?

“No. This isn't normal for bees,” Noah assured him, handing over a pair of gloves. They walked down the road towards the corner lot. “They were calm before, but they'll be looking for every chance to attack now. Check your suit often.”

Cameron swallowed hard and pulled the gloves on. Compared to his hockey gear, this thing was a suit of armor. It was clumsy and baggy in some spots. The hood obscured his vision and the boots gave him a clunky step.

It felt like he was in goal, only there were thousands of tiny opponents and he had no idea what to expect from them. Like every playoff nightmare ever, then.

Speaking of which, the moment in the car had been a little too close for comfort. He
had
to tell Noah the truth sometime soon.

As they reached the edge of the lot, Cameron heard a distinctive deep rumbling sound. It wasn't the same quiet hum he'd heard before. It was... angry, and it sent a chill down his spine.

“That's them,” Noah confirmed. “Deep breaths. You ever meditate?”

“No. Someone tried to teach me before. I can visualize, though.”

“Then deep breathing like you're visualizing,” Noah murmured, giving him a concerned frown. He was clearly worried for Cameron's health and the concern was sweet. Cameron was already pretty calm – or he had been until he'd heard that buzz, anyway.

He breathed in and out a few times until his shoulders sank and he slid into the zone. “Ready.”

They stepped around the last grove of trees and Cameron almost choked on his deep breath.

Pallets were askew, wooden boxes scattered across the field, frames tossed across on the dirt and grass and mud. It looked like a thousand-pound toddler had thrown a tantrum.

Clusters of bees were forming on boxes – supers, Cameron reminded himself of their name – and frames. Some of the frames were ripped apart, one box shattered against rocks behind the pallet.

Noah moaned under his breath as he gazed around at the twenty-odd hives. The ones near the back of the field were fine, but the dozen closest hives had all been destroyed. Their contents were scattered everywhere.

Another man was already there in a suit – Bill, presumably – and crouched over a box, gathering scattered frames.

“Hey, Uncle Bill. Where should we start?”

Bill raised a hand but didn't look away yet. “Help look for queens. Those three need queens spotted. I think we're screwed, but if you can find one...”

Noah led Cameron over to the closest box and crouched by it. Cameron flinched at the harsh buzzing around the back of his head. Bees were circling both of them, landing on the hood near their ears and throat and crawling across the black masks. “Okay. Queen bees are much bigger than the others. See those there?”

“The big ones? Yeah.”

“Those are drones. They're not the queen. Those are workers, those are drones. The queen's bigger than both of them. When you see her, you can't miss her. Help me out – look on one side of a frame while I check the other.”

Cameron crouched opposite Noah as Noah pulled out a frame, then scooted up closer for a better look. He flinched, half-expecting stings from every bee crawling over the frame, but they stayed on it. A dozen or more bees were crawling over Noah – no, two or three dozen.

They can't get in.

Cameron focused his gaze on the frame, squinting at the masses of bees crawling across the frames. He shook his head slowly, scanning up and down and back and forth.

Then, Noah flipped the frame over to exchange sides.

“No?”

“No,” Cameron confirmed.

The next frame was the same, though Cameron gave a few false alarms from thinking drones were queens. On the third frame, though, Cameron caught his breath. “Oh, shit. I think that's her.”

Noah gently turned the frame around for a look and Cameron scooted close to point out the one he meant. She was larger and darker than the others surrounding her.

“Yes,” Noah breathed out. Even through the hood, Cameron saw the smile of pleasure and relief crack his grim expression. “We've got one, Bill.”

“Thank God. Seal them up, hopefully they'll stay put.”

Cameron helped Noah get the frames arranged and the lid back on, following Noah's cues on what he needed next.

When the lid went back on, Cameron breathed out a sigh of relief. “So, same thing for the next two?”

“Yep.”

Noah's uncle was approaching. “It's not good. We're going to lose a lot.”

Noah rose to his feet and Cameron mirrored him. “Uncle Bill – it was us. I think we forgot to turn the fence on. I'm a stupid... I'm stupid. I'm sorry.”

Cameron cleared his throat. “I'm sorry, too. I should have known better.”

Bill waved a hand. “Doesn't matter,” he cut off their apologies. It wasn't unkind, but he wasn't mincing words, either. “Shit happens. Right now, we just gotta work fast so we don't lose too many swarms. I was planning to unwrap the last big yard today so this is a setback, but we've gotta save these ones.”

“We're here as long as you need us,” Noah promised with a glance at Cameron.

Cameron nodded instantly.

For the first time, Bill relaxed a little. “Thanks, boys. All right, get searching for queens while I try to piece together that one.”

They couldn't spot queens in the other two hives. Noah stacked up boxes and put plastic mesh between them to keep them separate in case they'd missed them. Noah told him if both had queens they would be kept apart from each other. Otherwise, they could raise a new queen of their own.

Cameron did his best to memorize every nugget of knowledge Noah or Bill passed along. Together, they gathered empty frames, shook other frames into hives, looked for queens, and reassembled hives.

An hour in, the first sharp sting flared in his wrist. “Oh, fuck--!”

Noah was by his side already. “First sting.” He grabbed Cam's hand and pulled back the glove long enough to scrape his nail along Cameron's skin.

“Ow,” Cameron groaned at the extra scrape to the stung skin.

Noah pulled the glove back down over his bare skin before the bees got in and squeezed his hand apologetically. “Gotta get the stinger out. You're not allergic, are you?”

“Now's a good time to ask,” Bill laughed, but he was glancing at them with concern.

“No, no,” Cameron assured them both. “I'm fine.”

“I've got antihistamines in the car,” Noah added. “You can take one now, if you want.”

Cameron squeezed Noah's arm. “It's okay,” he assured him. “I've had a lot worse. What's next?”

“We're just about there. You two want to bring the damaged stuff back to the property while I put the fence on?” Bill asked, and Cameron nodded. He squatted to pick up a few boxes from the stack, balancing the weight against himself. Noah grabbed the last two boxes and led him out of the field.

A twinge of guilt shuddered through Cam as they passed the fence control box. They walked across the ditch to the road, then around to a shed on the apiary property to drop everything off.

Once they'd placed their burdens in the shed and closed it up, Noah got Cameron to spin around and brushed bees off him. Cameron brushed two off Noah before nodding. “You're safe, too.”

They unzipped their hoods and gasped fresh air, the light bright and the air open around them now.

“We made it,” Noah smiled, walking back up the driveway to the boxes of gear. He paused and caught Cameron's hand. Their gloves sticky with wax and sap and honey, the gloves audibly cracked as he peeled his hand away, and they shared a laugh.

“Yeah,” Cameron murmured. His wrist still stung from his single sting, and Noah had gotten two as well. Bill's five had happened before they'd gotten there.

Noah pulled off his gloves and tossed them into the gear boxes. Once Cameron followed suit, Noah leaned in for a strong hug. “It was half my fault, too,” he murmured as a sort of reminder, then pulled back to unzip his suit and work his way out of it.

Cameron pulled off his glove, relieved to see his wrist wasn't too swollen. His fear was that Bill wouldn't see it that way, but part of him wanted to take full responsibility, too. He'd been deliberately distracting Noah a little in the yard... And vice versa. Six of one, half a dozen of the other.

Bill gave a tired nod of acknowledgement as he approached and they all fought their way out of the white protective suits. “Cameron, your job starts tomorrow and we'll call it square. I should have checked the fence. I usually check the hives weekly or more, too, but I was too focused on carpentry and unwrapping hives. It was my own damn fault.”

Cameron shook his head slightly. “Still, it didn't have to happen.”

“It didn't, but we all learn.” Bill bundled his suit into a box before extinguishing the smokers with water. “It could have been anything else, too. Ten days is too long this time of year. They could've had disease, swarms, too little forage... I was sloppy. Kinda like driving. When you've been driving for years, you don't always use your turn signal. Teaching a kid – I taught Noah here – reminds you of all that.”

Noah made a face. “I hate it when people don't signal,” he muttered, and Cameron and Bill shared a chuckle.

“I'm sorry for my part in it, regardless,” Cameron told Bill, approaching him to shake hands. Bill's grip was firm and his smile sincere. “And I'm glad you're still willing to offer me the job.”

“Course I am. It was all of our faults,” Bill told him and Noah, glancing between them. “I hope this doesn't put you off the job, though. Most days aren't like this.”

“Not at all,” Cameron promised. “Now that I've had the crash course, I'm looking forward to the easier bits.”

Noah laughed. “Yeah, but one sting? You'll get a lot more than that.”

“Just flick 'em out, like he did for you,” Bill added, sitting on a closed bin to change shoes. Cam leaned against the car to do the same, returning the gumboots to the bin in favor of his regular sneakers. “It'll be good to have an extra pair of hands... and an extra brain to catch my mistakes.”

“I'll do my best,” Cameron promised, hoping that didn't sound too cheesy.

“Off you go home, then. Get some rest. You'll need it.”

Cameron made himself focus on driving so he didn't make any errors in judgment from sluggishness. His hand hurt a little whenever he had to turn the wheel, but he pushed past that, too.