Kelsey had been ready to end things with Travis, but he surprised her by renting a cozy cabin for Valentine’s Day. Dumb as bricks, but sweet as pie, he deserved a shot at recapturing their spark.
Flurries bedazzled the scenic drive up, and despite poor reception, they managed to find the snow-crusted cabin and beat the nasty forecast. But Kelsey cringed at ribbons of gold honeycomb stretched from the porch ceiling, against the doorframe. “When’s the last time anyone’s been here?”
“It’s okay, babe. It’s winter. They’re dead.” Before she could stop him, Travis ripped the hive from the wall and lifted it like a trophy. A swarm of brown bees emerged, zigzagging through the air. Travis shouted, dropped the hive, and swatted. More bees stirred from hibernation.
They raced to the car. Red welts bloomed on Travis’s handsome face. His breathing grew labored. Snow fell harder.
Kelsey took the wheel and zoomed down the slick forest road.
“I’ll be OK,” Travis insisted.
“You’re having an allergic reaction. We’re going to a hospital.”
Travis wheezed and reached with weak fingers, but Kelsey focused on the road, white-knuckled, heart pounding. The blizzard whorled as they reached the interstate.
Travis’s breaths hissed. One eye swelled shut. He rasped, “Love you.”
The car fishtailed, but Kelsey kept control. She finally got a signal, twenty minutes from the nearest emergency room. Keep going, she thought. I’ll get there faster than an ambulance in these conditions.
The road hazed, ghostly and blank. She reduced speed as wind whipped the car. Twenty minutes became twenty-five, then thirty. She tried 911, but the call dropped. The map errored out. The horizon vanished into swirling white. Visibility surrendered to absolute zero. Travis’s good eye glazed.
“Stay with me.” She skidded past the blinking hazards of stranded cars.
She flashed back to their first date. He’d worn a tie to impress her. Told her she was smart. Since then, she’d said too many times that he wasn’t smart—he doomscrolled, invested in pyramid schemes—disturbed a fucking beehive!
But Travis was sweeter than honey. He sobbed when her cat died. Drove his grandma to church on Sundays. Clutched Kelsey’s hand during scary movies. Delighted her with special dinners and charming getaways.
Tears blurred Kelsey’s vision. The wipers swatted globs of unending snow. She could no longer hear his breaths but didn’t dare take her eyes off the foggy nothingness.
Vertigo soured her stomach.
Her ears rang to the rhythm of swishing wipers.
She didn’t care about the spark anymore.
She just wanted to see beyond the endless white.
They slid off road and crunched into a snowbank. A sparkling blanket pressed against the windshield. Wheels spun uselessly.
Travis lay breathless, disfigured and alien. His mouth gaped. His eye rolled back in the socket. From the collar of his shirt, a fat queen bee crawled. Antennae twitching. Wings flickering. Stinger sliding from her swollen abdomen.
The queen scrambled in circles. Desperately alone. Directionless.
Kelsey’s heart shuddered. Her vision frosted over.
Kevin M. Folliard hails from the western suburbs of Chicago, IL. He enjoys his day job in academia and membership in the La Grange Writers Group. You can find more of his horror writing in his anthology The Misery King’s Country and by visiting www.KevinFolliard.com.
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