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gazing out the window, though the blind was barely cracked.
    At his feet, Lou sat, watching the man expectantly, his tail thumping the carpet.
    Rebecca swallowed what felt like a cantaloupe lodged in her throat. Martin didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge either the dog or herself.
    The most disturbing part of the scene was the rifle laying across the old man’s lap.
    “You saw what the bastards did to Joyce.”
    The man’s words so startled Rebecca that she cried out, clasping a hand to her mouth.
    Finally Martin turned his head to look at her. “You saw it, Rebecca?”
    She nodded as her heart pounded painfully against her breastbone. “Yes.”
    “It’s over now. You know that, dontcha?”
    Crossing the room, she sat on the edge of the bed nearest the old man and leaned over, placing a hand on his knee, doing her best to ignore the rifle so casually placed on his thighs.
    “Those...creatures,” she said. “One of them did that to Joyce?”
    “Digger bees,” he said.
    Brow furrowed, she said, “Excuse me?”
    “Those creatures. I’ve seen something like ‘em before. Those are digger bees, sure as shit.”
    “I’ve...I’ve never heard of digger bees before.”
    “They live in the ground. Where they get their name from. They dig their nests in the ground ‘stead of building ‘em like regular bees. Stepped on a nest once when I was a boy down in Oregon. Bastards can be fierce. Foot swelled up the size of a damn football.” He chuckled a bit at the memory, then continued. “’Course never saw any so big. That part I don’t know about. Probably some science project gone awry or some crap they been putting in the soil or water supply. Poison, probably. Who knows, right? Don’t matter now anyway.”
    Rebecca thought about this for a moment, then said, “But...since when do bees...” She trailed off, grateful for the dark because it prevented Martin from seeing her blush. “Do what they did to Joyce?” she finished.
    “They ate her,” Martin said, matter-of-factly. “That’s what they did to her. Goddamn me having this rifle locked up in the attic. Might have been able to save her if I wasn’t so damn worried the grandkids might find it in the closet sometime when I was watching a game or some shit. Goddamn me all to hell.”
    Straightening her back, she said, “I always thought bees just...pollinated flowers and mostly minded their own business. I didn’t think they ate...”
    “Meat?” he asked. “You ever had a picnic in the park? Damn yellow jackets seem like they’ll eat just about anything, if you let them. Same thing here, I suppose. I reckon we’re the flowers now. What else they gonna pollinate? And as far as minding their own business. Well, I don’t know what to say about that one. That bastard that came after my wife...he was an aggressive son-of-a-bitch.” He seemed to ponder that for a moment before continuing. “’Course Joyce wasn’t just standing there either. Treated the damn thing like she would any other flying pest, waving her arms around trying to swat it. Screamin’ like the dickens. Probably aggravated it. And there I was, a useless old bum, running for the house and telling her to stay still and quiet.” He shook his head sadly. “Fat lotta good that did. By the time I got back with the rifle, she was on the ground and she wasn’t moving. That bastard was on top of her and I could...” His voice hitched and it took a few seconds for him to go on. “I could see its damn jaws working on her...face. It was already eating her face, Rebecca!”
    The man burst into tears and Rebecca said nothing. She didn’t know how to console someone who had gone through such a horrific ordeal or even if such a person could be consoled. Certainly not so soon after the fact anyway.
    Martin produced a handkerchief from a shirt pocket and blew his nose loudly.
    When she thought the worst of his crying might have passed, Rebecca asked, “So, you shot it?”
    He cleared his