Matan Shelomi‘s answer is damn fine advice! I can’t add to it but perhaps my own experience of being attacked by a swarm of African (killer) bees can illustrate how good that advice is...
In November 1995 I was leading an anti-poaching patrol in the Zambezi Valley on the Zambian side of the river. I was carrying my .375 H&H and leading as it was a dangerous game area so the immediate threat was bumping into lion, buffalo, elephant or other beasties.
The two scouts were armed with Chinese SKS and following about 15 metres bank and flanking to either sides. We were following a river bed as it was an ideal place to cast for poachers’ tracks as they would have to cross it on their way to cross the Zambezi river into Zimbabwe to kill rhinos. The rains had not yet come, so it was bone dry. The scouts’ job was to cover me against poachers and keep an eye out for dangerous game that I might miss.
We had another chap from South Africa who had been given permission to accompany us as an observer. I told him to just walk quietly behind me and either lie down, run or stay still, depending on the signal I would give him if anything happened.
Before setting out I asked him if he was allergic to anything and he told me that he was highly allergic to bees. I had a very comprehensive first aid kit in my pack but of course I intended to avoid bees.
That day CNN reported that the closest town, Kariba, (higher than and above the valley) was the hottest town on earth. The temperature was reported to be 52C (125.60ºF) but according to later government reports some places in the valley reached 56C (132.80ºF).
As we carefully moved in a loose formation down the dry riverbed we came to a bend. There was a steep walled bank to the left inside curve and lots of large boulders, many the height of a man which I had to climb over and round to make my way forward. All the while I was checking for leopard especially but also snakes and of course hoping to pick up poachers’ tracks in the sand between the rocks.
As we approached the curve I crept slowly to the inside while the two scouts went wide. The South African chap was told to wait round the corner till given the all clear to move forward again. The scouts were about 40 meters back and about 15 meters apart.
I came round the corner and heard a loud humming. I was instantly captivated by the sight that met me. An entire hive of bees was attached to the rock embankment in front of me. Because of the extreme heat they had brought the whole hive out onto the rock face and were buzzing to cool it. It looked like a single living organism and I stood there amazed.
As I stood there in silence, the game scouts started getting nervous, wondering why I was not moving or signalling. To them this meant imminent danger and they assumed I had encountered a leopard or something else at extremely close quarters.
Then the buzz of the hive changed. It became suddenly louder and the bees started flying straight at me.
As they did so I remembered the South African and shouted out his name and that he should run. In just the time it took to do that my head was already becoming covered in bees.
I turned, and remembering what I had been taught, began to run like hell! I couldn’t go near the South African as I could get him killed. I couldn’t run downstream as I had no idea what was that way and could run straight into dangerous game and furthermore the boulders were too high to get away easily. So my only option was to run towards the scouts, intending to head out of the river bed and into the open where we could keep running whilst at least being able to see what was ahead. I began shouting to them that there were bees and to run away from the river.
By this time the bees were buzzing through my hair (yes, ha ha, I still had lots of thick hair in those days) and over my collar and stinging my scalp, face and neck everywhere. Also my back and arms to a lesser degree.
Then the scouts opened fire.
In their minds I had bumped into a group of poachers or a leopard and was now running and leading whatever it was towards them. They just emptied their magazines in my general direction, hoping to hit whatever the threat was to them but not worried about hitting me.
So now not only did I have a swarm of African bees all over me and stinging the hell of me but I had two fools shooting at me too. I hit the ground till they had finished unintentionally shooting bees out of the air and then resumed my attempt at a 3 minute mile, this time passing between the scouts (who by now were changing magazines) and out into the open.
One of the scouts was about five foot tall and the other about six foot five tall and shortly the tall one went flying past me. The bees were thankfully first diverted to the short one and then slowly left us alone.
We walked round, picked up the South African chap, who hadn’t been stung and began to administer first aid. The two scouts to each other and the South African to me. I also radioed camp for a vehicle to come and pick us up urgently and that I had been badly stung so might need evacuation.
You do not take a bee sting out with your fingers. The sting has the venom sac still attached so if you pinch it between your fingers you are squeezing more poison into you so you scrape them out with a knife.
He gave up counting after scraping 23 stings out of my scalp alone. I was stung all over my face, neck, back and arms and by the time the vehicle reached us I was feeling rough as hell. By the time they got me back to camp I was sick as a dog.
I had already pumped myself with antihistamine and painkillers but it didn’t feel like it made any difference.
I was evacuated to Kariba and after recovering discovered that my knife had been so sharp that when they were scraping stings out of my head, they were also shaving patches of hair, so with all the stings I looked like a madman.
The doctor estimated I had been stung seventy to eighty times. It felt like it.