Brian Keene - Ghost Walk

And then he was gone.

Up, up and away …

Levi tried not to scream.

Maria stepped into the tree line and followed the path. The Ghost Walk’s trail was clearly marked. Both sides were outlined with something that glowed white in the darkness. It was almost phosphorescent. Curious, she bent over and touched it. It felt cool and dry. Powdery. She sniffed her fingertips. Lime.

“Pretty smart.”

Even without her flashlight, she’d have been able to see where she was going because of the lime, but she kept it turned on just the same. The beam held the darkness at bay and made her feel more secure. She wasn’t afraid of ghosts or any of the other folklore connected to the area. But there were animals out here. Raccoons, possums, deer, coyotes, maybe even black bear. The light would keep them at a distance.

She hoped.

Maria shivered, pulling her hood tighter. It was colder here in the woods than it had been out in the open field. This struck her as odd. The trees should have acted as a windbreak of sorts, making the forest’s interior warmer than the field. She stuck her free hand in her pocket. The other gripped the flashlight. She sniffed the air and caught a faint hint of burning leaves, even though there was no fire, as far as she could tell.

“Hello?” She stopped walking. “Mr. Ripple? It’s Maria Nasr, from the paper. We had an appointment?”

Something rustled overhead. Off to her right, a twig snapped in the darkness.

“Who’s there?”

The noise ceased.

Maria took a deep breath and continued on. She swept the flashlight beam back and forth, illuminating both sides of the trail. As she rounded a curve in the trail, Maria gasped, startled. A figure loomed overhead, slowly swaying back and forth. She heard a creaking sound. Maria swung the light upward, illuminating a hanged dummy.

“Jesus Christ…”

She passed by more attractions. There was a guillotine, its phony blade covered with tinfoil and red paint. A dummy sat propped against it. Next came a section of trail that had been lined with tied-together cornstalks. Plaster skulls, rubber bats, and other trinkets hung from mosquito netting overhead. This was followed by a giant bird’s nest, complete with an animatronic pterodactyl, turned off for the night. The path went right through the center of the nest, which was littered with fake body parts and a generous amount of red paint for blood. Maria had to admit, it was sort of neat. Not her type of thing, but she could see where others would enjoy this. It was certainly more creative than just dressing in a sheet, jumping out at someone, and shouting, “Boo!”

She pulled out her cell phone to check the time, and realized that Terry Klein had been right when he said service was spotty in the forest. She had no signal beneath the trees. That meant she couldn’t call Ripple and find out where he was.

“Mr. Ripple?” she yelled. “Anybody here?”

Her voice seemed muted. It didn’t echo like it should have.

That’s weird , she thought. Maybe there’s something to all that folklore after all. Some kind of sound-dampening phenomena? I didn’t see anything about it in the research, though .

She continued down the path, deciding that she’d go a few more minutes before turning around and heading home. If she hadn’t found Ripple by then, she’d explain to her editor that he hadn’t shown up for the interview. Miles would be pissed, but he’d see it wasn’t her fault. Maybe she could call Ripple tomorrow and do a quick phone interview. Otherwise, the feature article would become a sidebar. At this point, Maria didn’t care. It had been a long day. All she wanted now was to go home, eat dinner, check her e-mail, and then relax in the bathtub. Maybe she’d read a little bit tonight before bed, or paint her toenails—not that anyone ever saw them.

Maybe she’d even give her mother a call.

Yeah, right. Staying out here in the woods all night was better than that.

She went down a gradual hill, passing by several more attractions. In the distance, just off the trail, she noticed a small shack. It was painted white and stood out in the darkness. Maria pointed the flashlight at it and stepped forward. As she did, the shack’s door flew open, banging against the side, and a figure lunged at her.

Maria screamed, dropping the flashlight.

The woods turned pitch black.

“So what’s the verdict, Rudy? You gonna let me open on time or what?”

The fire chief shrugged. “It’s hard to check everything in the dark, Ken. I can’t see shit out here.”

Frowning, Terry glanced at Ken, then back to the chief. Behind them, windblown tree branches skittered across the roof of the maze house. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

Ken sighed. “Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah,” Rudy said. “I can’t inspect if I can’t see.”

“Goddamn it. Then why the hell did you want to do this tonight? Why not wait until morning?”

“It’s the only free time I had,” Rudy explained, holding up his hands. “I’m a busy man. You think I just sit around in the fire house, jerking off to midget porn and waiting for a call?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do.”

“Well, fuck you.”

Both men stared at each other for a moment. Then they both laughed. After a second, Terry joined in. Rudy reached out and squeezed Ken’s shoulder.

“Had you going for a minute there, didn’t I?”

“Hell, no,” Ken said. “But seriously, are we cool?”

Rudy nodded, smiling. “You’re fine, Ken. I hereby give the Ghost Walk my official seal of approval. I’ll sign off first thing in the morning—let the township office know so they can file the paperwork.”

“That won’t hold us up, will it?”

“No. The paperwork is just a formality. Like I said earlier, just make sure you have fire extinguishers stationed every hundred yards, and that all of your volunteers know where they are and how to operate them. Other than that, I don’t see any major problems.”

“Terry will pick them up tomorrow.”

“Sure will,” Terry said. “That’s on my list for tomorrow, along with making sure the portable toilets get delivered. Anything else you can think of, Rudy?”

“Just what I said earlier. You guys can’t have a Carve Your Own Pumpkin tent for the kids. I think it’s a sweet idea, but we can’t have a bunch of elementary school kids running around with knives.”

Ken nodded. “But the apple bobbing tent is okay?”

“Sure,” Rudy said. “Just make sure it’s supervised.”

“Anything else?” Terry asked.

“No. I think that’s it. You guys have done a good job here. Seriously. You should be proud, Ken.”

“Thanks, Rudy.” Ken’s voice grew soft. “That means a lot to us. In truth, I couldn’t have put this together without Terry’s help.”

“It was your idea,” Terry said. “You’re the brains. I’m just the brawn.”

“I just wish Deena could see it, you know?”

Rudy put his hand on Ken’s shoulder. “Maybe she does, man. Maybe she does.”

“Yeah.”

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Terry broke it by clearing his throat.

“That reporter is still waiting,” he reminded Ken. “Maria something-or-other.”

“Nasr,” Ken said.

Terry shrugged. “We ought to get back up there. She’s probably pissed.”

“I’ll make it up to her.” Ken stifled a yawn.

“You okay?” Terry asked.

Ken nodded. “Just tired. Seems like the last few weeks I’ve frigging lived in these woods.”

“It will be worth it,” Terry said.

“Damn straight,” Rudy agreed. “I can’t wait to see this place filled with people. You guys think you’re tired now, you better get a good night’s sleep while you can. In a few days, you’ll be busier than ever.”