‘Nuh,’ was all Nathan could muster. He noticed his hands were trembling.

‘Hope I’m not offending ya,’ said Sharkey smugly.

Nathan shrugged, and looked back out of the window.

Sharkey slurped up the last of his drink and dropped it on the floor. He turned the wipers up a notch to combat the now-pelting rain. ‘These bloody cans are going down a bit too nicely,’ he said. ‘Let’s hope the local cop isn’t out and about tonight.’

For the next few kilometers neither of them spoke, and Nathan was grateful for the peace. As they got close to the top of the pass, Sharkey grabbed another cigarette from the dash console, and put it to his mouth. He fumbled with the lighter and it fell to the floor in front of him. Nathan watched him stretch down for it, his fingers probing the dirty, worn carpet below his seat. As he dropped his head below the wheel to take a look, the ute swerved again, and this time the tray clipped the steep, rocky wall of the pass. The back end slid out, fishtailing, and Sharkey tried to correct the vehicle by swinging heavily on the wheel. The ute lost traction on the wet road, flipped onto its roof and went skidding into the guardrail on the cliff side of the road. Even from his upside-down position, Nathan could see the rail buckle and wave as they struck.

For a moment, the only sound was a hissing from the tires or the engine and the scattering of window glass. Within seconds, though, a droning sound rose, and grew steadily louder. Nathan looked over at Sharkey, who was also hanging upside down. Sharkey’s eyes were glazed over. His nose was broken and bent at an obscene angle, and his wavy, black hair was plastered across his wobbling face with blood and something else.

Honey.

The drone was turning into an angry roar. Nathan felt something dangling against the back of his neck. He reached around and felt for the hood of his bee suit and drew it over his head. His hands were shaking as he fumbled to pull the zips from the back around to the front, sealing it off.

He twisted his head to see the beehives lying scattered along the road, some piled up against the guardrail. The individual boxes had come apart and the frames were oozing their sticky amber contents onto the asphalt. The light from the headlamps dimmed as the dazed bees took flight. Their roar was deafening. Sharkey was crying. The way his lips were drawn back from his teeth as his white, panicking eyes took in the scene before him reminded Nathan of the pony his sister had when he was a kid.

‘Oh God … what … shit, help me, Nathan. Ya gotta get me outta ’ere!’ Sharkey screamed above the din of the bees.