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He expected to see the gray insulation or the wooden studs of the house’s skeletal frame. Instead, he found himself staring into a shimmering, golden abyss.
Behind the drywall, the entire wall cavity had been hollowed out and replaced with an architectural marvel of biological engineering. Hundreds of thousands of honeybees had moved in, undetected, over the course of several seasons. The space between the studs was packed with massive, dripping curtains of honeycomb, some of it dark and aged to the color of mahogany, other sections translucent and dripping with fresh, golden nectar.
The sight was both terrifying and breathtaking. The honeycomb was intricately folded into the narrow space, a labyrinth of hexagonal cells that seemed to defy the laws of physics. However, the discovery quickly took a turn toward the disastrous. By opening the wall, Tom had disturbed the delicate pressure holding the structures in place. Without the support of the drywall, a massive, ten-pound section of honey-heavy comb tore loose, crashing to the base of the wall.
The sound of the impact was followed by a low, vibrating roar that Tom felt in his teeth. The colony was awake.
In a panic, Tom realized he was standing in a narrow hallway with a breached fortress of stinging insects. He retreated to the master bedroom, slamming the door just as the first wave of guard bees began to pour through the hole in the wall. Through the gap beneath the door, he could hear the frantic buzzing—a sound like a high-voltage power line.
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