Dr. Krombold blinked.
"I'm talking about the killer bees. I know they're out here," Tammy prodded.
"Nonsense. Dr. Nozoki succumbed to an ordinary bee sting. The others-"
"Tell me about the others," Tammy interjected.
"I haven't yet finished telling you about Dr. Nozoki."
"This is TV. We can't dwell on stuff. People lose interest. Especially our audience."
"You know," Dr. Krombold said, picking up his desk telephone, "I think it would be best if you two left the building. I have not consented to an interview."
"Too late. Once you're on tape, the only way not to look bad is to go with the flow."
Dr. Krombold jumped from his seat and pointed an angry finger at the minicam lens that was recording his complexion going from florid to brick red.
"Turn that thing off!" he blazed.
It was spoken in anger. Krombold probably never expected an instant response, never mind compliance. But he got both.
The cameraman let out a strident yell, screamed and the minicam hit the yellowed linoleum with a bang. The light fizzled out.
Tammy shouted down at the man, "What the hell are you doing, you clumsy-!"
The cameraman was on his back, going into convulsions. He gasped, the gasping turning to a wheezing with his face becoming as mottled as wine sprinkled on satin.
"What's wrong?" Tammy demanded.
"B-b-b-b-bee!" he managed to say.
And up from between where his fingers were clutching his belly crawled a fat, fuzzy black-and-yellow insect. With a nasty ziii, it took to the air.
"Killer bee!" Tammy screeched, picking up a chair. "It's a killer bee. Damn, and it's not on tape."
"Don't become excited!" Dr. Krombold said. "Please calm down. It has stung your cameraman. It's only a matter of moments before it dies a natural death."
"I'm not letting it sting me," Tammy shrieked.
"Be still. Don't attract its attention," Krombold urged, coming around from behind his desk. "It will die soon. And it can't sting again. It has lost its sting."
"Tell that to the damn bee," said Tammy, trying to whack it with the chair.
The bee didn't die. It buzzed around but Tammy kept it at bay with her chair.
Finally, it took up a position atop a file cabinet and turned around completely once, then sat there looking at them with its many-faceted eyes.
"Grab a rolled-up newspaper," Tammy hissed, holding the chair between her and the intent bee. She knew that chairs were the best defense against knives. She figured a bee was just a tiny blade with wings.
"No need," Krombold assured her. "It is dying."
"You positive?"
"Bees can only sting once. Then they die. Dr. Wurmlinger said so."
"Well, he's the expert, right?"
Slowly, carefully, Tammy set the chair down.
She knelt over Bob or Ted or whatever his name was and shook him vigorously.
"Get up, you slacker."
The cameraman just lay there. His eyes were swelling shut.
"Hey, I think he's sick."
Dr. Krombold jumped to her side. His expert hands went to the man's throat, felt for a pulse, opened one eye and then the other and tested the open mouth for the warm breath of respiration. He found none of those signs of life.
"This man is dead," he said.
"I knew it! I knew it was a killer bee." And grabbing up the fallen minicam, she trained it on the bee.
"Smile for America, you little monster. I got you now."
The harsh light fell upon the bee. In response, it lifted its wings and launched itself at Tammy.
Venting a shriek, Tammy then launched the minicam at the bee, praying the tape would survive a second jolt.
Bee and camera collided in midair. The camera hit the floor for the second time.
This time, the bee came. roaring back. It flew straight up into the air and attempted to dive-bomb Tammy. She slithered out of the way, grabbed up a newspaper and made it into a tight, hard roll.
"I'll teach you, you little bugger!" she screamed.
Her first swipe missed. The second, coming on the backswing, knocked the bee clear out into the hall. It landed on the black-and-white diamond-pattern linoleum of the hall with a distinct but tiny clink.
"Where did it land?"
Dr. Krombold eased out into the corridor. "I can't see it."
Then the bee crawled onto a white diamond from a black one.
"There!" said Tammy, descending on it with blond fury. The newspaper smacked it hard.
"Got it!"