The interior was dark and musty, with cobwebs everywhere in sight. And there was some degree of sight, as boards from the roof had collapsed inwards, letting in little slanting beams of sunlight. Fading sunlight, as it was now maybe an hour at most before sunset happened outside.
I decided to search the barn as quickly as possible for anything that might help me and then get out of there. Maybe try and get back to the road or something. What I was searching for however, I had no real clue. I was just sort of following my intuition at this point.
All across both long sides of the interior were what must have been horse stalls, with swinging wooden doors, most of which were firmly shut with a simple little metal latch.
The few that were opened revealed a spacious inside, full of old and moldering hay on the floor, some kind of feeding trough on the far end, and something that kind of resembled a bathtub with a spigot put into the wall above it for water.
It looked a little barebones but comfy enough if you were a horse, and I felt some degree of fondness for the people who must have built it. They had obviously cared enough for their horses to go all out. Though it made me curious what might have happened to this place. Decrepit house full of strange spiders, everything falling apart from age and dead corn all over the place?
I was very curious indeed. And just like the cat that curiosity killed, mine started to get the better of me and I found myself no longer thinking about being quick in my search of this place, no longer concerned with time.
No, rather worringly I was starting to dawdle, taking far too long to search every nook and cranny, open each stall, not even really looking for something to help me out of my situation, but for some vague idea of 'clues' information about what had happened to this clearly once successful place.
I didn't really find anything of interest other than a few ancient horse grooming brushes, until I'd made it all the way back to the rear end of the barn. Where I found a ladder, leading up into darkness and some kind of upper platform above.
Not really thinking about why I was doing it, what I hoped to even find, I started to climb. The ladder was old, rickety, and on the third rung I picked up a large splinter in my right thumb.
Ignoring the brief jab of pain, I kept climbing, one of the rungs about halfway up bending alarmingly but not breaking. And then I was in the weird loft, which was the word that finally came to mind to describe such a place. It was probably used to store hay or something once upon a time.
There was no hay there now, though. Just darkness, the smell of mold, and in the far corner what looked like an old bureau or something. Just to the side of it was a window so dusty and covered by webs that it was impossible to see through it.
I was just about to go check it out when I heard the creak of the main door to the barn swinging open wider. Realizing in one instant of horror that if I stayed up in the hayloft I was very trapped indeed, I turned around to start climbing back down the ladder, with some vague idea of hiding in a horse stall or something.
But it was already too late. For I heard the soft footsteps of someone approaching the far end of the barn where the ladder stood.
Throwing myself flat on the wooden boards of the loft, picking up another splinter in my elbow of all places, I strained my little ears desperately to hear whoever was below.
The footsteps stopped about where the ladder was. For just a second, there was complete silence. And then an angry buzzing sound, like the buzzing of bees. It steadily grew from a drone to an all our roar.
Confused, wondering if a wild bee swarm had somehow flown inside, I crawled to the edge of the loft and risked a peek over the edge.
What I saw was... disturbing. There was a man down there, or what I could only hope was a man, dressed all in bee keeping gear. That offwhite colored suit, with the mesh visor and the widebrim hat, all of which looked like nothing so much as hazmat gear. Which honestly wasn't too far off the mark, since it kept the wearer safe from the hazard of bee stings.
He wasn't looking up at me like I thought he'd be, at least I didn't think so, since I couldn't see his face through his outfit. But his head wasn't tilted upwards, it was just staring straight ahead at the ladder and he wasn't moving, as if he'd just switched off for the moment.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I then started to pick out the bees that were all around him and on him, a vague protective cloud.
Then he looked up, and I saw the ragged tears in his beekeeping veil, and the winged drones flying out from within it in a steady stream. Having no other direction to go in, I got to my feet and backed rapidly towards the bureau and the dusty window.
I hit the far wall, practically mashing myself into it as I strove to get as far away from the edge of the loft as possible.
I was not even slightly surprised when I heard the creak of someone starting to climb up the ladder. The buzzing of bees followed the creaks, steadily climbing higher right along with the guy in the suit.
Getting a hold of myself, I headed quickly for the window and started searching frantically for a latch or handle, some way to get it open, though I'd then still have to contend with the fifteen foot drop to the ground.
There was no latch. No apparent way to open the window at all. I was trapped. And by the sounds of it, the Bee Keeper was nearly to the top of the ladder...