It is dark inside the windowless lab. One hooded electric lamp throws light on work tables, filing cabinets, rows of specimen jars, and desks piled high with papers. A computer screen glows off to the right. A strange insistent hum assaults your ears.

"Doctor Hernandez?" you ask. You hear a faint noise off to your left.

A white-suited figure stands still in the corner. "Doctor Hernandez," you say, and take a step closer. Something crunches underfoot.

Suddenly a flashlight beam flicks on. You see that the figure is not a person at all, only a white beekeeper's suit hanging on the wall. Jorge sweeps the beam down to your feet. The floor is littered with hundreds of dead bees.

"Caray," breathes Jorge. And then you realize what the angry hum is: tens of thousands of bees, very very near.