Each man sat on their horse, facing different directions. Schmidt was facing the direction of the Bean, which continued to do nothing in the center of the field. It was far enough away that he couldn’t make out any defining features. It looked the same as the Crimson Beans that attacked Dijon the month before; a featureless face and similar proportions to a human, though this one was motionless.

They stood in silence, the only sound being that of the breeze over the dead grass.

Schmidt shivered, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself.

Without the normal sounds of nature around him, it felt as though he were no longer on Earth. There were so many sounds he never thought about.

Here he stood, in the middle of the countryside.

It was quiet.

It was empty.

They were alone.

Schmidt shivered again. He began rubbing his arms to try and warm himself up, even though it wasn’t really that cold. It was around ten degrees with no wind; only slightly uncomfortable for him normally, but the air felt like it was piercing his skin, freezing him to the bone.

He hadn’t thought of it much, but if he had to guess, this was what Hell would be like. Desolate, still, cold.

“Has it been long enough, Mr. Gregory?” Rob asked.

“A few more minutes,” Greg replied simply.

And so they waited.

Nothing moved.

The Bean stood motionless in the middle of the field.

For a moment, Schmidt was able to forget about his rash.

He thought he noticed something move in the distance, though it was just his imagination.

Silence.

Piercing silence.

He tried to steady his breathing, but he couldn’t stop his heart from racing in his chest. What if this was a trap? The Beans weren’t stupid. They could have planned this. Maybe this was how they were able to kill those other scouting groups. Maybe the other groups just weren’t careful enough. Maybe it didn’t matter, and they were dead the moment Rob pointed the Bean out. Maybe they were dead the moment they left Besançon.

Maybe they were dead the moment they saw the first Bean outside of Dijon.

“Did anyone see anything?” Greg asked.

The others remained silent.

“Good. We head towards the Bean, then.” Greg began to guide his horse in the direction of the Bean. “Remember, at the first sign of danger, we retreat. If we get separated, we can regroup outside of that city we passed a few hours earlier. I hope to God that it does not come to that, however.”

The others followed in silence.

Nothing happened as they approached the Bean.

They slowed down once they got within ten meters of it. It remained motionless.

They stood and watched, waiting for something to happen. Anything.

The Bean was facing to their right, the side of its body prone. It stood with its arms at its side, its legs together. Despite the distance, Schmidt could faintly smell the sickly sweet scent of rotting fruit.

“Hey, Barry... Can you give me your helmet?” Rob asked.

“Why?”

“Just gimme it.”

Schmidt complied. Rob inspected Schmidt’s helmet for a few moments.

He threw it at the Bean.

Schmidt watched as the helmet sailed through the air, seemingly slower than it should have. He held his breaths as it hit the Bean in the side of the arm. He watched as the helmet fell onto the ground, clattering as small clumps of beans fell onto it.

The Bean didn’t move.

“Mr. Robert, you could have killed us all with that stunt!” Greg shouted.

Rob slid off his horse and began to walk cautiously towards the immobile Bean. “But I didn’t, and that’s all that matters, right?”

Schmidt dismounted his horse and followed Rob, his heart beating rapidly. “You could’ve at least warned us first.”

“That’s true. I thought it would’ve taken off a bit of the edge. Guess it didn’t.”

Greg followed. “Just… warn us next time, please.”

Schmidt, Rob, and Greg gathered around the Bean. Some smaller beans had fallen on top of Schmidt’s helmet. Slowly, he picked it up and brushed the beans off.

They stared at the Bean.

“Why is it—” Marvin began.

“OH MY GOD!” Rob screamed, falling to the ground, barely missing the Bean. “Oh my God, I forgot you were here, Marvin… You can’t just sneak up on people like that!”

“Sorry,” Marvin said.

“No, it’s not your fault… You’re just so quiet. Maybe we should put a bell on you or something.”

“No, thanks.”

“Anyways, what were you saying?” Rob took a deep breath and sat down in the grass in front of the Bean, which was still motionless.

“Why is it just standing there?” Marvin asked.

“You’re asking the wrong guys,” Rob replied.

“What should we do?” Greg asked. “This is vital information, we can not just leave it standing here in this field.”

“If you want to put it on your horse, go ahead, but I’m not riding with that thing,” Schmidt said, walking around the Bean, inspecting it up close. The helmet felt heavy in his hands.

He hadn’t got a good look at the Beans in Dijon. When they were first attacked, it was too dark to make out many of the features, and when they escaped he was too busy trying not to die to inspect the Beans. Now, without any visible threat, he wanted to take his time and analyze this Bean. Who knew if anyone would get a chance like this again?

The Crimson Bean was made up of a large amount of small reddish brown ovals, which Schmidt assumed were the beans that they were named after. Upon inspection, they really did look like beans. The beans were separated by a thin layer of thick white liquid that reminded him of puss. The monster smelled horrible from far away, so he had to hold his breath to prevent himself from gagging up close. The surface of the Bean wasn’t smooth despite how it looked from far away, smaller beans jutting out at different heights all over the Bean’s body. Its proportions were slightly different from a normal human, though Schmidt couldn’t put his finger on exactly what was different. It would not have been obvious from a distance that the proportions were different, either. Its head was featureless, its fingers were long, maybe twice as long as human fingers, and its feet were long and without toes. The Bean had no genitalia, hair, or nails.

Schmidt lifted his helmet and cautiously began to move it towards the Bean.

“Woah, Barry, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Rob said, standing up from his seat in the grass.

“Well, you threw it at the Bean earlier and nothing happened.”

“This is not the same, Mr. Schmidt,” Greg said. “It could easily grab you at that distance, which would lead to your demise.”

“If it grabs me, you guys can retreat without me. I want to know something first,” Schmidt replied.

“Wait,” Marvin said, walking over to his horse. “We should get a sample first.”

“A sample? Of what?” Schmidt asked.

“Of the beans.” He pulled a glass jar out of his horse’s pack and handed it to Schmidt. “Take some of the smaller beans and put them in this. We can seal it and bring it back to Stuttgart. The researchers could use something like this.”

“That is... an excellent idea, Marvin,” Greg said, smiling. “I am glad you are here, comrade. That is the best idea any of us have had all day.”

Schmidt took the jar from Marvin and grabbed a few of the fallen beans from the ground. They were like ice; cold enough that he had to warm his fingers before grabbing more. Eventually he gave up picking the beans from the ground individually and grabbed a handful from the Bean itself, though he quickly regretted it. The sensation reminded him of thick, freezing mud. Once the jar was full, he returned it to Marvin who sealed it tight, then wrapped it in parchment.

“If that’s everything…” Schmidt said as he glanced at the other soldiers. None of them said anything. Rob nodded.

Schmidt grabbed his helmet from the ground and drove the top into the Bean’s head. It slid in for a few centimeters before stopping. The beans were pushed to the side, some of them falling to the ground.

Nothing happened.

He held the helmet in the Bean’s head for a moment, waiting for something to happen. After a moment, he began to pull it out. Small clumps of beans fell to the ground as the helmet slid further out of the Bean. Finally, it came out with a wet sucking sound. Schmidt looked into the cavity that his helmet had left.

He froze.

His eyes went wide as he stared at the Bean’s head.

“What’s wrong?” Rob asked anxiously as he began to approach Schmidt.

Greg took a step forward. Marvin followed.

Schmidt didn’t move as the other three surrounded him, looking into the cavity on the Bean’s head.

It was a woman.

She was dead, her corpse covered with beans.

She had begun to decompose inside of the Bean, her decaying skin smeared red and white, her eye sockets empty, strands of matted brown hair streaking down her face, but it was unmistakable.

Inside the Bean was the rotting corpse of a human woman.

Marvin made a small whimpering sound and fell backwards. Rob gasped softly, averting his eyes and whispering something under his breath. Greg turned and doubled over, retching. Schmidt couldn’t look away.