Brian Keene - Ghost Walk

“Maybe,” Russ said. “Or maybe something else happened to them.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. You see stuff on the news all the time. Boyfriend kills the girlfriend, buries her in the woods, and then tries to run. Like that Scott Peterson guy.”

“You think Sam killed Rhonda? I don’t know, Russ. Isn’t that a little far-fetched? I mean, sure, he had some anger issues. We saw that here, while he was working. He could be hotheaded and arrogant, and sometimes he was belligerent to Ken and Terry, but that doesn’t make him a killer. I never heard that he beat her or anything like that.”

“Yeah, but who really knows these days? Look at all those people that got murdered right here in these woods a few years ago.”

“They were a witch cult, Russ.”

“Well, still. You wait and see. I bet you she’s buried right out here in these woods.”

“Terry said that Ken saw her leave last night, you dork. They found Sam’s car in a grocery store parking lot across the river.”

“You never know, Tina.” He took a deep drag off his cigarette and smiled. “You just never know.”

“I know one thing,” Tina said. “You promised me you’d quit those things.”

“Don’t start that again. I’m going to. On New Year’s day.”

“That’s three months from now.”

“Well, I can’t just quit cold turkey. Got to wean myself off them.”

Grinning, she playfully smacked him. He reached around and tapped her ass.

“Love you,” Russ said.

“I love you, too.”

Russ and Tina had been married for twenty-eight years. Graduating the same year but from rival high schools, they’d met in Ocean City, Maryland, during Senior Weekend and had been together ever since. They’d had two wonderful children together, owned a nice home nestled deep in a secluded valley in Red Lion, and had no major debt. They stayed involved with their community. Decorated their house for Christmas and Halloween. Kept their lawn mowed. Were kind to their neighbors. Bought Girl Scout cookies every year. Life was perfect. They were happy and still in love. They shared everything.

Still, they had their ghosts, unknown to each other.

When her mother was in the final stages of Alzheimer’s disease, Tina had faced a tough decision. The assisted care home her mother was in was expensive, and her mother’s money had run out. Russ and Tina didn’t have the funds to keep her there, not even with a second mortgage. Although her mother’s mind was gone, her body was still in fine shape. The doctors said she might live for several more years. Tina cried as she pressed the pillow over her mother’s face and held it there. She did it with love. When her mother was gone, she leaned over and gently kissed her cheek one last time.

Russ had a gambling addiction, bordering on obsession. There were weekend trips to Atlantic City, long hours spent at the off track betting parlor on Route 30, and many late nights spent online at various gambling sites. The problem—and his debts—both grew to enormous proportions. He’d eventually broken free, put it behind him after months of secretive counseling without Tina or his family’s knowledge. But he had to hit bottom before he got the help—bottom being burglarizing his own home and pawning Tina’s jewelry, including her great-grandmother’s diamond ring, just to satisfy his debts. He’d called the police and reported it as a break-in. Russ had watched enough cop shows to know how to make it look like a real robbery. The regional cops never suspected otherwise. But when Russ saw the pain that he’d caused his wife, and the fears he’d stoked in his family—fears that their home was no longer safe—he’d shed the habit once and for all. Sadly, shedding the guilt was much more difficult.

Hand in hand, they double-checked the cornstalks one more time.

“Perfect,” Russ said. “No way will people see behind them as they walk down through here.”

“Whose hiding place is this?”

“Doug’s. He’s going to be dressed as a werewolf. He’ll hide here and let folks walk by, unchallenged. Then, Shane’s going to be hiding a little way up the trail. Doug will creep out behind the last person in the group and follow them. Then, when Shane jumps out, Doug will scare them from the rear. It’s gonna be—”

Tina held up her hand, abruptly silencing him. Frowning, she tilted her head and listened.

“What’s wrong?” Russ asked.

“I heard something.”

“Russ? Tina? Somebody help me!”

Tina gasped. “That sounds like Rhonda!”

“Come on,” Russ urged. Still clasping her hand, he led Tina forward, off the trail and into the woods. Their quick pace turned into a run as Rhonda called out for them again. Low-hanging branches tugged at their clothes, and Russ almost tripped over a root jutting from the soil. They followed Rhonda’s shouts until they found her.

“Jesus,” Russ breathed. “She doesn’t look very good.”

Rhonda leaned against a tree. Her clothes were tattered and dirty. Her face and hands were caked with mud. Dried blood covered one cheek, directly beneath a shallow, untreated cut. The most shocking aspect of her appearance, however, was the tremendous amount of weight that she’d apparently lost in the last twelve hours. Her arms and legs were rail-thin. The flesh hung off them like sallow curtains. Her face was sunken. Much of her hair was missing, revealing raw, glistening red patches on her scalp.

Then she raised her head and they glimpsed her eyes: two black holes full of swirling darkness.

“Rhonda!” Tina ran to the sickened girl. “Are you okay, honey? What’s wrong?”

“I need help.”

“It will be okay,” Tina soothed, stepping closer. “Just calm down.”

“I’m glad you both found me. Is there anyone else with you?”

“No,” Russ said. “It’s just us. Everyone else is up in the field. What’s wrong with you, Rhonda? You look like you’ve been exposed to radiation or something.”

“Russ,” Tina snapped, glaring at him.

“I need help,” Rhonda repeated.

“We’ll get you some help,” Russ promised. “Can you tell us where Sam is? Do you know?”

Rhonda smiled. “Sure. I can tell you where he is. He’s right behind you.”

“What?”

Russ turned in time to see Sam and a man he didn’t recognize step out from behind a tree. Both men were obviously suffering from whatever malady Rhonda had. The stranger was especially gaunt, almost skeletal. Their eyes were like Rhonda’s. Russ held up his hands as the man pointed a deer rifle at him. Sam clutched a machete. Russ recognized the weapon. It belonged to Cecil Smeltzer, one of the volunteers for the Ghost Walk. The old man had been using it to cut undergrowth earlier this morning, between nursing cups of coffee. Russ suddenly realized that he hadn’t seen the old veteran since shortly after the cop had left.

“Hello, Russ,” Sam said.

Russ struggled to keep the alarm out of his voice. “What the hell’s going on here?”

Behind him, Tina whimpered. Russ whipped around again. Tina cowered against a tree trunk, flanked by Rhonda and Cecil. But that wasn’t what had her terrified. It was the coyote that stood in front of her, legs spread, haunches rigid, teeth bared. A low growl emanated from its chest. It turned briefly and glanced at Russ. The beast’s eyes were black, just like those of the humans. Although it wasn’t emaciated like the others, some of its fur was missing.

“Russ,” Tina sobbed. “Do something.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Russ whispered.

“No,” Cecil said. “Not even close.”

The old man’s eyes were black, but physically, he was in much better shape than the others.

“Cecil,” Russ pleaded, “that’s a coyote.”