Brian Keene - Ghost Walk

The sun rose over the burned-out remains of LeHorn’s Hollow, but its light didn’t penetrate the forest. Wisps of shadows swirled between the trees in place of the morning fog. The remnants of the stone circle were obscured by darkness. It flowed from the seven vacant holes where the sigils had been, forming a pulsating ball ten feet above the forest floor. Tentacles of darkness crept forward from the sphere, searching the hollow for living things. They encountered a few green shoots, buried beneath the thick layer of ashes, and quickly drained them. The fledgling vegetation turned brown and brittle.

Now that all of the sigils had been removed, Nodens no longer required slaves. Thus, they’d been discarded.

Terry’s and Tom’s remains lay nearby. Their eyes were open, staring at nothing. Their mouths gaped, frozen in eternal horror. Their fingers had curled, clawlike, in death. They’d been emptied. Sucked dry. Their bodies were just desiccated husks, as brittle as the burned tree trunks around them. Cecil, Russ, Tina, and the coyote were in even worse condition. Each occasional breeze that blew through the area stirred more and more of them up into the air, spreading their ashes amongst the rest of the debris. Of Rich, Sam, and Rhonda—there was nothing left, not even dust.

The floating black sphere continued to pulse and swell. Nodens gathered strength. When its feelers reached the limits of their exploration, they returned to the mass. With each passing hour, more of it seeped into the world, spreading farther into the forest, lapping at the vegetation and feasting off their energy.

Come midnight, the walls would shatter and it would surge forward, an unstoppable tide of living darkness, consuming everything in its path until there was nothing left.

Levi waited until he heard Maria’s breathing turn shallow and rhythmic. Then he tiptoed across the floor and shut the door to her bedroom. After double-checking to make sure Adam was also sleeping soundly, Levi crept into Maria’s office, opened the curtains and let the sunlight stream in through the window. Sighing, he closed his eyes and held out his hands, palms up, bathing in the luxuriant warmth. After a few minutes, he sat down cross-legged on the floor. The sun’s rays danced across his face. Levi removed his hat, closed his eyes again, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

It was eight o’clock in the morning. Night would come quickly today.

Before he began his studies in earnest, Levi decided to take an extra precaution. Just reading certain passages of the Daemonolateria could invoke things that had no business in this world. It was dangerous—adding Nodens to the recipe was simply playing with fire. Prevention was in order.

He prayed out loud, quiet but fervent, reciting from memory a benediction against enemies, sickness, and misfortune that his father had taught him.

“The blessing which came from heaven, from God the Father, when the true living Son was born, be with me at all times. The holy cross of God, on which He suffered His bitter torments, bless me today and forever. The three holy nails which were driven through the holy hands and feet of Jesus Christ, bless me today and forever. The spear by which His holy side was pierced and opened, protect me now today and forever. May the blood of Christ and the Holy Spirit protect me from my enemies, and from everything which might be injurious to my body and my soul. Bless me, oh you five holy wounds in order that all my enemies may be driven before me and bound and banished. All those that hate you must be silent before me, and they may not inflict the least injury upon me, or my house, or my premises. And likewise, all those who intend attacking and wounding me either spiritually or physically shall be defenseless, weak, and conquered. The cross of Christ be with me. The cross of Christ overcomes all water and every fire. The cross of Christ overcomes all weapons. The cross of Christ is a perfect sign and blessing to my soul. Now I pray that the holy corpse of Christ bless me against all evil things, words, and works.”

When he was finished, Levi fell silent again. Outside the window, a bird chirped. He heard a leaf blower hum to life somewhere nearby. Still solemn, he made the sign of the cross four times, to the north, south, east and west. Then he took a deep breath. From this point on, he’d be dealing with methods and benedictions that were decidedly different and far older than the one he’d just recited.

He pulled out the pages from the Daemonolateria and unfolded them. He read each one carefully, focusing on one in particular. He began memorizing it, committing the ritual to memory. He needed to be exact. One miscalculation or an incorrectly pronounced word, and he could fail. In truth, he might fail anyway. There were no guarantees with an entity of this magnitude. His only chance was to confront it before it was completely freed. But these pages, and the items currently locked inside Maria’s car, should even the odds.

And Adam Senft, as well—the most important ingredient of all.

After several hours of study, Levi folded up the papers again and returned them to his pocket. Then, slipping into a meditative trance, he began to prepare for what needed to be done. The sun was warm on his skin, but inside, he was cold.

In the darkness behind his eyes, shapes moved, twisting and floating. He heard the faint voices of the damned.

Concentrating, Levi ignored the ghosts and prayed.

“Son of a bitch. You’ve got to be shitting me!”

“I wish I was, Ken, but I ain’t. The generator just won’t start. Don’t know what the hell is wrong with it. I’ve tried everything.”

Biting his lip in frustration, Ken breathed through his nose, feeling his blood pressure rise. It was just after one in the afternoon, and the Ghost Walk swarmed with people—volunteers, vendors, delivery personnel, community officials, and a handful of people from the media. They bustled about like ants, busy with a hundred different tasks, all of which apparently needed Ken’s input or approval. It had started the moment he’d arrived. Before he’d even got out of his truck, he’d been besieged by two delivery drivers and a half dozen early volunteers, each voicing a different concern and needing an immediate answer. Now, several hours later, it showed no signs of abating. If anything, the demands for his time and attention were getting worse.

Dennis can’t find his mask. Neil can’t find the keys to the storage trailer. The deliveryman can’t find a pen so I can sign the bill of lading for these fucking pumpkins. Lisa needs a hammer. Jerry needs a hand setting up. Arlene needs help finding her hiding spot along the trail. Stephanie has to leave early. Greg won’t get here until later. Diana’s ice-cream truck got a flat. The french fry stand doesn’t have electricity. The pterodactyl isn’t working. Bayer lost his saw and needs another. Tessa needs some petty cash to buy a wig. Doug hurt his thumb and needs to have it looked at .

“And I need an Advil,” Ken muttered. “Or a beer. Or both.”

“What’s that, Mr. Ripple?”

Blinking, Ken focused on the man. He couldn’t even remember the guy’s name.

“Nothing,” Ken apologized. “Just a little distracted. Look, I don’t know a lot about generators. But obviously, we’re going to need it fixed by tonight. Or else we need a replacement. Either way, we don’t have much time. What are you driving…I’m sorry?”

“Craig.”

“Craig. Sorry. Got a lot of names to remember. What are you driving?”

“I got a truck.”

“Great! Tell you what. Do you know where Harvey’s Rent All is?”

Craig nodded. “Over near the hospital.”