~ Fiddler's Lament ~

by

Donna H. Parker

We eased our way through the overgrown brush until we could see straight into the barn through its broken main doors. Danny motioned me toward the cover of a sturdy tree trunk then called out. “Anybody there? You in the barn, come out and talk with us.”

No answer. No sound of another human. “We may as well see what’s inside,” he said to me. “Let me go first.”

He did his usual careful entry. “All right. Come on. Nobody’s in sight. If he wasn’t wanting to talk with us, he’s probably flitted out the back.”

The barn felt like a sketchy, faded memory of the living, working barns I knew—the Mackinnon barn, for instance, and the one I’d played in as a child at my friend’s farm. This one was dark and dusty and dead. Even the normal scents I always associated with barns were nearly gone. The only thing I could smell, besides dust, was a very faint whiff of old hay, slightly spiced with a touch of mouse.

The barn, along with the accompanying village store, had been abandoned for decades before Ralph and Madge acquired it. Obviously, the barn had housed no domestic livestock in ages. The only things using it now would be small rodents and reptiles, with maybe an owl or two roosting in the hayloft, or a few bats among the rafters.

The ground floor of the barn was laid out in the usual way with stalls on either side of a wide center aisle. Even though we hadn’t seen any sign of another human, Danny moved slowly and cautiously through the space, zigzagging back and forth between stalls, pausing to look closely into every one. I stayed what I hoped he would consider to be a safe distance behind him, following as quietly as I could.

Sunshine, finding its way through cracks age had created in the wooden walls, laid thin, frail bars of light across the junk-cluttered, sagging floor. The clouds of dust motes we stirred up as we moved shone momentarily bright and sparkly as they struck the light then swirled away again and were lost in the dimmer air.

Danny silently pointed out a jagged hole about the size of a dinner plate in the floor. Eaten away by termites, maybe, or just rotted from old age and all the rain the battered roof could no longer keep at bay. From then on, he went even more carefully, testing each step to make sure the floor wouldn’t give way when we put our weight on it.

Looking up, I could see straight to the peak of the high roof, but on each side, over the stalls, the barn’s builder had put haylofts, which were open and didn’t even have a railing. Danny and I had once had a near-deadly encounter with that kind of loft. Please God, we wouldn’t have to go into this one.

The loft still housed a few ragged, rectangular bales of ancient hay. Surely, if they were as precariously perched as they looked, they would have fallen before now. Even so, I couldn’t quite convince myself that standing under them was wise. I moved on to a spot that didn’t seem so dangerous.

Danny suddenly stopped, stood statue-still, listening for the slightest movement anywhere in the barn, for a sound of breathing other than our own, for any noise at all that might mean we had company. I held my breath until he moved on and into the last stall on our right.

I stayed where I was. I could see him fine and it seemed safer not to run that gauntlet of possibly hazardous hay bales if I could avoid it. Besides, the less I moved, the less chance I had to stumble over something and create an enormous, unwelcome racket.

Danny paused again, squatted down to look more closely at the floor in a far corner. I was aching to ask him what he’d found, but I knew better than to open my mouth and break his concentration. Explanations could wait until he was finished with his survey.

He finally stood up in his corner and started back toward me.

From somewhere above us, I heard a skitter like little mouse feet then a great swoosh.

Danny yelled.

Not safe after all—

My one step backwards wasn’t quite enough. The falling bale missed my head, but the weight of it hitting my shoulder was enough to knock me to the floor. Only I didn’t stop at the floor. The age-riddled wood gave way under me like paper-thin ice. The bale and I fell right on through it and finally hit bottom hard enough to knock the breath right out of me. But even as I was struggling for air, I was giving thanks I hadn’t been smashed to smithereens. Thank God, whatever I’d landed on wasn’t as hard as solid rock.

“Constancy!” Danny had forgotten about keeping quiet. He pounded toward the hole, then skidded to a stop as the barn floor groaned and more dust and small rocks came down.

“Constancy! Are you all right?”

I couldn’t see him, but a sun-bright beam from his big lantern suddenly illuminated me like a stage spotlight.

“Constancy!”

“I’m a-alive, Danny.”

“Thank God!”

Amen!

“Are you hurt, love?”

The twine holding the hay bale together had broken somewhere along our descent, so I was nearly buried under a crazy quilt of musty, half-rotted alfalfa. I was still trying to spit the hay and dust out of my mouth, but at least I was breathing again. “I t-think I survived without much damage. I don’t know how cows can eat this stuff.”

“What? Constancy, are you rational? Did you hit your head?”

“I’m as r-rational as ever. I’ve just got filthy, rotten hay in my mouth. Yuk! The bale didn’t hit my head. It hit my shoulder and side. My good shoulder, which is a blessing. I’m pretty sure my head’s okay, but I have a few other bumps. Danny, you be careful up there. Did you see anybody?”

“Where?”

“In the loft.”

“I didn’t.” He was quiet a moment. “Are you thinking the hay was pushed?”

“That thought flitted through my mind. Some of the bales were already right on the edge, but I thought I was standing in a safe place. I did hear some kind of noise just before this one came down.”

He was silent, and I knew he was raking the loft with his eyes and listening for any further signs of life.

“Danny, please don’t go into that loft!”

“I won’t now, but I’d better get some back-up.”

He wasn’t in uniform with his radio repeater attached to the shoulder, and we hadn’t come in the Patrol car. Good thing he carried a phone.

“Stay very still in case you’ve broken any bones or you’re damaged internally,” he said.

No way I could have stayed in my awkward landing position unless I was thoroughly broken. I’d already sat up, but I didn’t bother telling him that, since he was busy talking to his phone. If I had taken any major damage, it wasn’t yet showing.

“I can’t quite see you from this angle,” he said to me when he’d finished his call, “but I don’t dare get closer until I find something to brace this floor. It’s not much stronger than sawdust in spots. Are you in pain?”

“Nothing serious. As far as I can tell, I didn’t break anything. If I didn’t, it’s because I didn’t quite make it all the way to the floor. I landed on something relatively soft.”

“I see a few planks over in the corner here. Let me get some to cover the weak spots, then I’ll come down for you.”

“Danny, don’t even try it. Please. It must be a fifteen-foot drop. See if there’s another way. Find a ladder or something. As much as I love being with you, I don’t want both of us stuck down here.”

“You’re truly not seriously hurt?”

“Just some scrapes and bruises. Nothing the least bit serious. Danny, there should be a ladder for the loft. Couldn’t you let that down?”

“If there is one, it’s not where I can see it. It’d not be fifteen feet long, anyway. You sound as if you’re in a very large space. What can you see from where you’ve landed?”

“Nothing with that light in my eyes.”

“Well, then, don’t be looking at the light. Shade your eyes, look round you and tell me what you can see.”

“Danny?”

“Yes, love? What?”

“Danny, I think I’ve fallen into a cave.”