Brian Keene - Ghost Walk

She looked for Levi’s buggy as she stepped onto the sidewalk, but didn’t see it. Was he here yet? Although she didn’t know much about his personal life, he struck her as the type of person who’d be punctual. Still, there was no sign of the buggy—or of Dee. Levi couldn’t have been stupid enough to park it at the psychiatric hospital, could he? That would surely attract unwelcome attention.

She still had no idea what he intended to do. “Open the door”? Did that mean they were breaking in? Did he know a back entrance, perhaps unguarded and unlocked? No, that was impossible. She was sure that whatever Levi’s plan was, it involved some form of magic. That’s why he’d been so secretive and vague. He was probably worried it would sound far-fetched to her, despite everything else that had happened today.

Maria shook her head in disbelief. What a day it had been. This morning, the world had looked very much the same as it always had; now, things were different. She still didn’t totally believe in powwow or magic or sorcery or whatever Levi wanted to call it, but neither could she remain skeptical any longer.

She yawned, wishing she’d brought along another cup of coffee. The earlier rejuvenating effects of the hot shower and caffeine were starting to wear off. Worse, she doubted there would be time for sleep anytime soon. If Levi actually got them a sit-down with Senft, she’d have to transcribe her rough notes while they were still fresh in her head. It would probably be another long night.

Maria approached the hospital from the rear, cutting behind a dentist’s office and then across a vacant field. She moved safely under the cover of darkness. There was a thick cloud cover sliding over the moon, and although the psychiatric hospital’s parking lot had sodium lights, their radiance didn’t reach beyond the lot itself. She crept through the underbrush, alert, pulse throbbing in her throat.

It was so murky that she didn’t even see Levi until he spoke.

“You made it.”

Maria yelped, barely biting back a scream.

Levi shushed her. He was hiding in a thicket of vines and small trees, concealed in shadow. The only thing she could see clearly was his hat, silhouetted against a brief ray of moonlight.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Maria gasped, crouching down beside him and trying to catch her breath. “You scared the hell out of me, Levi.”

“Language. I may not be Amish anymore, but that doesn’t mean I approve of or enjoy hearing you take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t have surprised me like that.”

“I apologize. But if I, as you said, scared the Hell out of you, then that’s a good thing. The purer we are, the better our chances of defeating this.”

Maria bristled. “Are you saying I’m not pure?”

He didn’t respond. Maria peered closer and realized that he was grinning.

“You’re just messing with me again, aren’t you, Levi?”

“Yes. Just playing off your words. Sorry about that. But in truth, purity does add strength to our fight. And by purity, I don’t mean being a goody two-shoes. I’m just talking about a healthy body, mind, and spirit. Righ teousness. A sense of self-assuredness and confidence. Making the universe revolve around you—understanding that you are the focal point of all that occurs.”

“That doesn’t sound like purity.”

“But it is, in a sense. Being pure in thoughts and deeds means never second-guessing or doubting them. Knowing that what you’re doing is right and having the determination to see it through. That’s the kind of purity I’m talking about.”

Maria nodded in fake understanding and decided to change the subject. “So where’s Dee?”

“I left her stabled at home. I thought the buggy might attract too much attention at this time of night.”

The clouds parted again, revealing the moon. Light spilled into the thicket. In front of the building, out on the street, a car drove by, bass-heavy music reverberating from the speakers.

“So how did you get here, then?” Maria asked.

Levi smiled. “By other means. Did you get any sleep?”

“No. How about you?”

“I meditated for a bit, but you can’t really call that sleep. Mostly, I just read. Studied. Prepared.”

“Like cramming for an exam?”

Levi shrugged. “I guess. I don’t know for sure. I never had to do that.”

“Amish have schools, too. You never had to stay up late studying for tests?”

“There was no time. We had chores to do. If we got a chance to sleep, then we took it.”

They fell silent for a moment, watching the building. Although a few lights burned, most of the windows were dark. There was no signs of activity or movement.

“Seriously,” Maria whispered. “How did you get here?”

“I told you—by other means of transportation.”

“Magic?”

“No. A taxi cab. I had the driver drop me off several blocks from here and then I walked. I forgot my deodorant, so you might not want to get too close. How about you?”

“I parked a few blocks away, too. But I remembered to put on my deodorant.”

“Now you’re messing with me .”

“Hey, turnabout is fair play. And besides, we’re a team. Remember?”

“That we are. Are you ready?”

Maria shrugged. “I guess.”

Levi took a deep breath, held it, and then exhaled.

“Before we go any farther,” he said, “I have to say something. Regardless of whether you believe or not, you must do as I say from this point on. If you question or falter, it could be very dangerous for us both. Okay?”

“We’re not going to kill a chicken or anything like that, are we?”

“Not for this ritual, no.”

“Okay, then we’re agreed.”

“Good. That’s a relief. We’re going to open a doorway tonight. Remember when I told you that there were ways to enter the Labyrinth and cross space and time, like Nelson LeHorn did?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, this is something different. We don’t want to travel to another world or dimension. We want to transport someone from one point to another right here. On our Earth. To do that, we’re going to create a shortcut—a temporary hole in the Labyrinth’s fabric. That’s not really what it is, but it’s the easiest way to explain it. In any case, we must be quick and sure and cautious. And very, very careful.”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t want anything else using the doorway. And because we don’t want it getting wider or becoming permanent. That would be very bad.”

Levi’s demeanor had changed. He seemed more solemn. Finished speaking, he reached behind a thorny bush and pulled out a wicker basket.

“Are we having a picnic?” Maria whispered.

Levi lifted a finger to his lips, silencing her. His eyes conveyed seriousness. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a compass. After consulting it, he nodded. Then he glanced upward.

“Good,” he said. “We’re facing north and there are no tree limbs hanging directly over our heads. We can begin.”

Maria watched as Levi opened the wicker basket and pulled out a container of salt. She recognized the brand; the same kind was in her kitchen cupboard. Levi poured the salt all around them in a circle, emptying the container. Then he sat down cross-legged in the center of the circle and indicated that she should do the same. Her joints popped as she followed.

“Whatever happens,” he told her, “do not go beyond this circle. This is important. Don’t reach beyond it. Don’t stretch beyond it, not even the tip of your toe. Don’t even spit beyond it. Nothing must break the circle. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Nodding, he reached into the wicker basket again and pulled out a red cloth. He spread the fabric out on the ground in front of them, smoothing the wrinkles with his palms. Then he pulled more items out of the basket: a small copper bowl, four red candles, a chrome cigarette lighter, a broken, collectible silver spoon with a sharp, jagged edge, and a small bottle of shampoo—the kind usually offered as an amenity at hotels. Maria started to make a joke, but then thought better of it. Levi lined up each of the items on the cloth, placing the candles at four different positions—north, south, east and west. He sat the copper bowl directly in front of him and then picked up the tiny shampoo bottle. When he unscrewed the lid, Maria smelled a pleasant, aromatic scent—some type of oil, rather than shampoo. She tried to place it, but couldn’t. It smelled a bit like sandalwood, but heavier, more musty. Levi poured the oil into the bowl, careful not to spill any. The bouquet grew stronger, filling the air around them. He screwed the cap back on the bottle and placed it inside the basket. He retrieved one final item from the basket: a piece of white paper with strange symbols and a series of letters drawn on it. Maria tried to read the words, but they were nonsensical—strings of vowels with no consonants, and vice versa. He laid the paper directly above the bowl of oil. Then he lit each candle and bowed his head. Maria did the same. When he spoke again, in a strong, authoritative tone, she wasn’t sure he was talking to her.