Hexodynamic - Chapter Two: Locks and Keys

Chapter Two

Locks and Keys

I’ll begin my story, as it seems fitting, at the time I discovered this wonderful place. My assignment has been to record my duties, goals, findings and accomplishments. But I believe that, should my story be heard (or read), one will need to understand my life. So as I travel to the Well of the World’s End, I’ll compile my autobiographical writings—the adventures of Blake Larson.

I was a boy of twelve, the oldest of five children, and my parents had inherited the family farm from my Uncle Tom. I was desperate for adventure, and as I went looking for it, I found just that waiting for me in an old, abandoned shack on the property. Inside an envelope, Tom had written a letter, describing the adventure that awaited the finder.

Ω

Rian woke up on the kitchen floor, his feet propped up. With blurred vision he saw the burly outline of Uncle Blake stand up and walk to the sink.

“He’ll be all right, Valerie. He was probably just dehydrated.”

“He kept saying he was hearing something,” Val said with a sniffle, “and I didn’t believe him.”

“If he was dehydrated, then he could certainly have been experiencing delusions. He’s covered in blood, so he must have had a nose bleed before passing out. Both signs of dehydration. As soon as he gets some water in him, he’ll be just fine.”

“I’m not delusional,” Rian croaked.

Val jumped from her chair and knelt beside Rian, her long auburn hair tickled his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Rian said, sitting up and rubbing his head to soothe the throbbing.

“That was quite a fall you took, Rian.” Blake crouched down and handed Rian a glass of cool water. “Drink it up—you need some water in your system.”

“I’m not crazy,” Rian repeated.

“I know you’re not, son. But being dehydrated can do things to your mind.”

“So, your house isn’t haunted?”

Blake let out a laugh. “Goodness, no. Where did you get that idea?”

“Well, one of the other homes we went to had zombies in the basement. You never know—some places are haunted.”

Out of the corner of his eye Rian saw Val shake her head.

“Zombies, eh?” Blake rubbed his moustache. “Now that’s something, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. So I have to be careful in new homes.”

“Well I can promise you, this house isn’t haunted. Our family has owned this land for over three hundred years.”

“Three hundred years?” Val asked.

“Yep. Tell you what, kids. I have to collect honey from a few of the bee hives today—why don’t you come with me, and I can tell you some stories about this old farm. I’m sure Kathlene will have some peaches and cream waiting for us when we’re done.”

“Yeah, okay,” Val said.

Rian sat up straight, intrigued. “You have honey farms here?”

“Sure, we’ve got several hives.” Blake answered.

“And you want us to help you get the honey?” Rian asked with excitement.

“Sure do.” Blake smiled and stood up, holding out his hand to Rian. “Listen, if you start hearing voices again, come get me and we’ll investigate the situation, okay?”

Rian nodded.

“You might want to get cleaned up a bit—your aunt doesn’t like the sight of blood.”

Half an hour later, Rian walked with Val and Uncle Blake to the old bee shed in the woods. Surrounded by lush oak trees, the black, discolored shed stood out against its surroundings.

“Let’s see,” Blake said, rifling through a closet, looking for bee keeper suits that would fit Rian and Val. “I know they’re in here somewhere.” He started taking old coats and coveralls out of the closet and piling them on the floor.

Rian glanced around the shed. It was bigger than it looked from the outside. Plastic buckets filled with honey lined one of the walls. Tools lay scattered across a wooden workbench piled with sawdust. A small staircase led up to a near empty loft. At the top of the staircase sat a rock, and on it Rian thought he could see the face of a clock, with hands pointing at 7:20.

“Val,” Rian whispered, pointing to the rock clock. “Are you seeing this?”

“I need new contacts, I can’t see that far away,” Val replied.

“What was that?” Uncle Blake asked, still shuffling through the closet.

Rian grabbed her arm. “Shh,” he whispered, putting a finger to his lips.

“Oh, I just need new contacts, that’s all,” Val repeated, before she looked at Rian with a questioning glance.

“The rock at the top of the stairs,” Rian whispered. “It’s a clock, and it’s pointing to 7:20.”

“There’s another one?” Val whispered.

“Probably more where it came from, too.”

“Ah, found them!” Uncle Blake called, turning around with two small suits in his hands.

Rian accepted his suit from Uncle Blake. “Can bees sting us through these?” Rian asked.

“You’ll be safe,” Blake replied, handing Rian and Val the facemasks. “If you’re not aggressive, the bees won’t react to you. Don’t worry—I’ll handle the frames, you’ll just need to help me with the harvesting.”

Rian felt like an astronaut as he put on the facemask—one look at Val and Blake told him he looked like one as well. A glint of light caught his attention on the ceiling of the loft. “What’s that up there?”

“What the loft? Not much there.”

“No, that little silvery thing on the ceiling,” Rian said.

“Oh, that’s the door to the attic—nothing but dust and cobwebs in there. It’s a cramped little space. You wouldn’t want to go inside.” Blake put on his facemask.

Rian looked at Val with excitement. She, however, didn’t seem to notice his expression through her facemask.

“You know,” Blake said as he led them from the shed. “Bees are fascinating little critters. I’ve always had a fixation with creatures that can take a piece of nature and turn it into their life source . . .” Blake trailed off, staring outside with glossed over eyes. He shook his head. “Let’s get to it, then.”

Ω

“I bet you anything he’s hiding something up there,” Rian said over a bowl of peaches.

“You heard what he said, Rian, there’s probably nothing up there but spiders. I’m not going up there if it’s spider infested.”

“Yeah, but the clock,” Rian insisted. “Where else have we seen those clocks on this farm?”

“Coincidence?” Val guessed.

“I don’t think so. We should at least go and check it out.”

“Did you see how small that shed is? There’s probably not enough room in the roof for an attic big enough for two people to stand in.”

The broken clocks will guide your way,

To help us see the light of day.

Rian felt his heart rise into his throat as his pace quickened. He had hoped that Blake was right—that the voice was a delusion from not drinking enough water.

“I don’t think he wants us up there, Rian. What if we get hurt?”

“Shh,” Rian said. “The voice is back.”

“Okay,” Val rolled her eyes. “If you’re doing this for attention, it’s working. What do you want?”

“Be quiet!” Rian hissed, glancing around the kitchen wall into the living room. Uncle Blake had said to get him when he started hearing the voice again . . . but where was he?

Into the attic you must go,

To fight against the deadly foe.

“It can read my thoughts.”

“Of course it can read your thoughts if you’re making it up,” Val said.

“I’m not making this up, Val!” Rian kept his voice at a whisper. “There is something going on here! Why can’t you hear it?”

“Okay, okay! I’ll go with you to the shed—just stop with the voice thing. You’re freaking me out.”

“I need to tell Uncle Blake about this,” Rian said. Val might have thought he was pretending, but he knew what he was hearing. It was the zombie incident all over again.

“Stop acting suspicious,” Val said as they headed out the door.

“I thought I saw Aunt Kathlene watching us from the orchard over there,” Rian replied.

“You’re acting like we’re doing something against the rules.”

Rian didn’t know if they were breaking the rules or not. Blake certainly hadn’t told them not to go into the attic, but he didn’t give them permission to, either.

Reaching the shed, he pulled the door open on its creaky hinges and led the way inside.

“Blake’s right, there is not going to be anything up there.” Val started climbing the staircase.

“That’s exactly what I’d tell you if I was hiding something, too.” Rian picked up a step ladder and followed Val up the stairs.

Setting up the ladder, Rian climbed up and pulled the latch of the attic door. “It’s locked.”

“I noticed,” Val said.

Rian hopped down from the ladder. “Now do you think there’s something up there?”

“Maybe.”

“So, we need to find the key that fits that lock,” Rian said, gesturing to the attic door.

Val stood silent for a moment. “Don’t you think that if Blake is hiding something up there, then he’s locked it up for a reason?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s the fun part. We get to find out what it is.”

“But what if it’s dangerous—what if we get hurt?”

“Look, Val. If it was anything dangerous, he would have told us not to go up there.”

“I guess so . . .”

“And if there really isn’t anything up there, then we’ll find something else to do, I promise.”

Val nodded slowly. “Okay, but if we get hurt, it’s your fault.”

Rian smiled. “Awesome. Just don’t sue me if you die. Let’s go find this key.”

Val shook her head and laughed as she headed down the stairs.

For every lock there is a key,

A puzzle and the wisp of we.

Rian looked over his shoulder. He could have sworn that the speaker of the voice was right behind him—but he didn’t see a thing.