Brian Keene - Ghost Walk

The hayride had been fun, if a little too short. So far, it had been Connie’s favorite part of the evening. Liam had put his arm around her when they sat down on a bale. She’d snuggled up against him. He was warm and the evening was chilly. She’d closed her eyes and smiled, remembering how it had been before the boys. Connor and Alex had bounced up and down impatiently, anxious to reach the trail.

And when they did, Connie’s fun ended and the boys’ and Liam’s began. They’d laughed at the various scenic locations along the path—the pterodactyl’s nest, a guillotine, and a reproduction of a windmill from some horror movie that the three of them recognized and Connie didn’t. They’d elbowed each other and shouted in excitement at each stop while Connie recoiled in disgust. Worse was the people in costumes who hid along the trail at random intervals. Some of the costumed monsters jumped out in front of them. Others waited until the O’Bannons had moved past. A man with a chainsaw and a face like a leather sack had chased her twenty yards up the trail while Liam and the boys howled. Somehow, the people hiding along the path seemed to know she was an easy target. Sometimes they acted alone and a few times they had teamed up, trapping the family between them. During one prolonged period of this, Connie had been trapped between Jason Voorhees and Freddy Krueger. She screamed while her husband and children laughed. When it was over, Connie had laughed with them.

It was a good evening.

They just couldn’t believe how dark it had gotten already—so early in the evening.

The O’Bannon family, for the most part, loved monsters and ghosts.

But it was their real-life ghosts that threatened to tear them apart.

When Connie was pregnant with Alex, Liam had cheated on her with a temporary worker from his office. The girl, Tasha, had left two weeks later, assigned to the next job. She’d e-mailed him once since then, to tell him she was pregnant and getting an abortion. He’d responded, but Tasha hadn’t answered. He’d never seen her again—but the guilt remained. Both for what he’d done to Connie and what he’d done to Tasha.

During her final year of college, Connie had been unfortunately saddled with a manic-depressive roommate named Celeste. While Connie enjoyed all that her final year had to offer, Celeste usually sat in the room with the lights turned off, listening to Depeche Mode—or, as Connie called them Depressed Mood—and getting high. Once a week, Celeste would threaten to kill herself, but after a half-dozen false alarms, Connie and her friends chalked it up to cries for attention, and ignored her further threats to do the same. Until the night when Celeste did it. Connie had been going to a party. Celeste had begged her to stay and talk. Said she was feeling low. Connie had left anyway, telling Celeste to just get some sleep. Instead, Celeste had sliced her wrists open, straight down, palm to elbow. She’d bled out on the bathroom floor, her blood congealing on the tiles before anyone found her. Connie had never forgiven herself for not staying. For not listening. For not being a friend.

Even at their young age, Connor and Alex had ghosts, as well.

Two years ago, Connor had shot a bird out of a tree with his BB gun. When he walked up to it, he heard frightened chirping above his head. The bird had been a mother, and her four babies trembled in their nest, cold and hungry and scared. Connor felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t know what to do. The babies wouldn’t stop squawking. So he knocked the nest out of the tree and killed them, too. That night, he hadn’t eaten dinner. His stomach hurt too badly.

Although his family didn’t know it, Alex was a thief. He stole his brother’s toys, change from the jar on top of his father’s dresser, and bills from his mother’s purse. He stole at school, at church, and even last year at summer camp. At his bravest moment, he’d stolen a video game from a neighbor’s yard sale. He liked how it made him feel. Liked the illicit thrill. But late at night, he worried what would happen if he ever got caught.

These were the ghosts they kept from each other—their most private, secret torments. This was what kept them apart, even on nights like this when they thought they were happy and having fun and loved.

Eventually, they entered the maze house. It was pitch-black inside. The boys led the way, stretching out their arms and touching the walls with their fingertips. Connie and Liam followed behind. In the darkness, Liam playfully squeezed her butt. Connie elbowed him in the stomach. They moved slowly, feeling their way along, and hitting many dead ends. Backtracking, they eventually found their way to the center of the building. A flashing strobe light hung from the ceiling. The entire room had been painted in a black and white checkerboard pattern—the floor, all four walls, and the ceiling. As they crossed the room, the O’Bannons marveled at the effect. It appeared as if they were moving in slow motion. It made Connie dizzy. She reached for the wall to steady herself, and noticed that the wall had eyes. And a mouth.

The mouth was grinning.

Shrieking, Connie jumped backward, hiding behind Liam. As they watched, a figure detached from the wall and moved toward them. It was another Ghost Walk volunteer. His clothing had the same checkerboard pattern as the rest of the room. Even his exposed skin—his hands and face—had been painted in the same fashion. Connie smiled in smug satisfaction as the boys and even Liam fled, screaming.

They plunged down another dark hallway, and were back to feeling their way through the impenetrable gloom. Eventually, they reached the maze house’s exit and emerged back into the night. This part of the trail had been strung with twinkling orange lights. They reflected off the white lines on each side of the path. After pausing to laugh about their encounter, the family moved along. Behind them, they heard another group screaming as they encountered the checkered man.

“That was awesome,” Liam said.

“Yeah,” Connor agreed. “Can we do it again?”

“There are people behind us, buddy. We have to keep moving. But maybe after we get to the end, we can go back through if the line isn’t too long.”

Both boys cheered. Connie groaned. They moved on. Connor and Alex ran ahead. Liam and Connie held hands.

Running footsteps pounded toward them. A man dressed like a werewolf rounded the corner, clutching his rubber mask in his hands. His eyes flashed terror.

“It’s my grandma,” he shouted, racing past them. “She’s down there!”

Liam reached for the fleeing man. “Is she hurt?”

The volunteer werewolf brushed by him, barely stopping.

“No, man. She ain’t hurt. She’s fucking dead! Has been for twenty years.”

He ran past them and disappeared into the woods.

“That guy was weird,” Connor said, staring in confusion.

“It’s just part of the show,” Liam said, trying to reassure his family. “It’s all an act.”

Connie frowned. “Well, I definitely don’t approve of his language.”

“Come on,” Alex urged. “Let’s keep going.”

More screams and laughter drifted out of the maze house as they started down the trail again. Curiously, there were now screams ahead of them, as well.

“I thought we were the first ones through,” Connor said.

“We are,” Liam assured him.

“So who’s screaming?”

“It’s just the people hiding up ahead. They’re trying to psyche us out.”

The trail sloped downhill and then began to curve around, heading in the other direction. Liam guessed they must be at the halfway point. The trail grew darker as they reached the bottom of the hill. The white lines on both sides of the path faded, as if eaten by the dark. It was colder here. Connie and the kids shivered. The string of orange lights flickered. The screams increased in pitch and intensity, and then abruptly ceased.