by Brian Keene
Soon, there would be no lights at all. They’d be snuffed out, consumed by the living darkness.
The back roads gave way to main roads. She did the speed limit and obeyed all traffic laws. She drove in silence, staring straight ahead. She did not turn on the radio or Sam’s iPod. When her cell phone rang, she ignored it. She had no family or friends now. She was part of something bigger and greater.
Eventually, she reached Route 30. She drove east, crossing the Susquehanna River and into Lancaster County. She took the first exit off the highway and cruised through the bucolic riverside town of Columbia, passing antique shops, beauty salons, small cafes, and used bookstores. The streets were relatively empty.
At the other side of town, she pulled into the parking lot of a Safeway grocery store and parked the car at the far end, away from the overhead lights. Most of the spaces were full—cars, trucks, and a few Amish buggies. Rhonda turned off the car and headlights, exited the vehicle, locked the doors, and walked away. She stared straight ahead. Her stride had purpose. She passed by a mother pushing both a shopping cart and a baby stroller. The baby began to cry. The mother hushed her child. Rhonda felt their fear. It was made stronger by the fact that neither human knew why they were afraid.
The last hint of the sun disappeared below the horizon and darkness engulfed the town. Rhonda slipped into the shadows. Consumed with their own lives and agendas, nobody else in the parking lot even noticed her.
Except for one person.
Levi Stoltzfus was putting his grocery bags in the back of his buggy when he saw the girl. She was young and pretty, dressed immodestly and wearing dark sunglasses at night. But that wasn’t why he noticed her.
Her aura was what attracted his attention. It was black.
All human beings have auras. Levi had been able to see them since birth, and his father and grandfather had taught him how to read them. Their colors varied, encompassing the entire spectrum. A trained eye could tell if a person was healthy or sick, happy or sad, just by noting the color of their aura. Different colors meant different things. But auras were never black. At least, not human auras.
Black meant something else.
His horse, Dee, whinnied nervously as the girl passed near them. Pointedly turning his attention away from the young woman, Levi patted the animal’s neck and stroked its mane, whispering soothing words of assurance that only the horse could hear.
“Easy now, Dee. I feel it, too. Calm down. This too shall pass.”
Her footsteps echoed on the blacktop. His free hand drifted to his coat, patting the bulge over his left breast. A battered copy of The Long Lost Friend lay snuggled in his inner pocket. It had been his father’s, and his father’s before him. The front page of the book held the following inscription: Whoever carries this book with him is safe from all his enemies, visible or invisible; and whoever has this book with him cannot die without the holy corpse of Jesus Christ, nor be drowned in any water, nor burn up in any fire, nor can any unjust sentence be passed upon him.
Levi had never had reason to doubt it, except for maybe the last part—the bit about unjust sentences. His excommunication from his church and professed faith still chafed at his pride, even after all these years. It had cost him everything—his love, his friends, his community. He didn’t like being an outsider, didn’t like being alone. Who would? But still, it was God’s will, and a small cross to bear, all things considered.
As his father, Amos, used to say when he thought no one else was listening, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch or a charismatic evangelical Christian to live.”
Dee stomped her hooves and whinnied again. The air grew colder as the girl passed by. Across the parking lot, a baby shrieked. Dogs barked somewhere in the night. Levi mouthed a silent prayer:
“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.”
The young woman stopped a few yards away from him. Levi stole a quick glance at her. The girl turned her head toward him. Levi saw his reflection in her sunglasses. Dispensing with pretense, he continued out loud, his voice barely a whisper, issuing a challenge of sorts.
“Enoch and Elias, the two prophets, were never imprisoned, nor bound, nor beaten, and came out of their power. Thus, no one of my enemies must be able to injure or attack me in my body or my life, in the name of God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Ut nemo in sense tentat, descendere nemo. At pre cedenti spectatur mantica tergo.”
Ignoring him, the girl walked on. Dee calmed down after she was past them. Levi kept petting the horse, watching her go. Darkness swirled around her, blacker than the surrounding night. Levi shivered. He suddenly felt very cold. His stomach clenched and his breath caught in his throat.
Something was very wrong with the girl. She wasn’t human. Well, she had been at one time—recently, judging by her appearance. But no more. Now, she was something else. Not evil. Levi had faced evil many times, had seen it reflected in both human and inhuman beings. The girl wasn’t satanic. He was sure of it. If she had been, she would have responded to his challenge. This was something else, something beyond the Judeo-Christian pantheon or any of the world’s other major religions. Whatever the girl was—possessed, otherworldly projection, or pan-dimensional manifestation—she wasn’t evil. Her presence went beyond evil. He sensed it. Saw it in the girl’s aura. In the way she’d ignored his prayer.
Levi had some experience in such matters.
The Lord had put him here, that much was certain. God had sent him to the Safeway for groceries tonight so that their paths would cross. So that he would recognize the threat. This was his calling. His birthright. His curse.
He sighed. It was still a long ride home, and there was much to do once he got there. Levi rented a small, one-story house in Marietta. His neighbors pretty much left him alone, whispering quietly to each other about “the nice Amish man next door.” Levi found that mildly irritating. He’d tried explaining to them over and over that he was no longer Amish, but they still insisted on referring to him as such. Maybe it was because he still preferred the long beard of his former people, or perhaps because he still adhered to their plain dress code: black pants and shoes, a white, button-down shirt, suspenders, and a black dress coat, topped off with a wide-brimmed straw hat. Or because he drove a horse and buggy rather than a gas-guzzling SUV.
The rental property had a two-car garage out back. One half had been converted into a stable for Dee; Levi had turned the other section into a woodshop. During the week, he made various goods—coat and spoon racks, plaques, lawn ornaments, and other knickknacks—and sold them every Saturday at the local antiques market. It was an honest, decent living. The Lord provided. But Levi also had another, more secret occupation.
He worked powwow, as his father had, and his father before him. Patients, mostly the elderly who remembered the old ways, or the poor who couldn’t afford the more modern methods, came to him seeking treatments for various ailments and maladies. He dealt with everything from the common cold to arthritis. Occasionally, he’d be called upon for more serious matters: stopping bleeding or mending a broken bone. He usually saw two or three patients a month—not nearly as many as his father had tended to when he was alive—but, modern age, modern sensibilities. People didn’t need his help anymore. They didn’t even need doctors. Modern man had the Internet—a font of medical knowledge. The first thing Levi had done when he left the congregation was purchase a computer and dial-up Internet service. He hoped the Lord would grant him enough money to get a cable modem, but so far, none had been forthcoming. Levi loved the Internet. It symbolized all that was right and wrong with mankind. He found it fascinating. And useful to his trade. Many times, he’d exchanged notes and information with others around the world—faith healers, witch doctors, warlocks, shamans, hougans. Their differences in beliefs
didn’t matter. They all answered to a higher purpose, and they all had something in common. They were outsiders, Levi and the others.
Despite his knowledge, Levi’s abilities had limits. There were no herbs or ingredients to combat cancer, for example. Only prayer could cure that, and the Lord didn’t seem inclined to oblige. Levi had experienced failures. They haunted him. But so far, his successes had far outweighed his failures. Yet there were times when he was charged with doing more than helping the sick or curing livestock.
This was one of those times.
“Thy will be done, Lord. Thy will be done. Although I wish you’d have let me get my ice cream and milk home before you called on me. They’ll go bad sitting out here. And I’ve still got to feed Crowley. Wouldn’t do to let him starve, unless you plan on sending him some manna.”
Dee neighed in agreement. Or maybe dis plea sure. Levi couldn’t be sure.
He needed to face this—whatever it was. Defeat it. But to do that, he needed its name. He needed to know what he was fighting. All power stemmed from naming. And the only way to discover the girl’s identity was to follow her. She was on foot and hadn’t gone far. He still sensed her, although distant. She was heading west, toward the river. He couldn’t follow her with the buggy. There was no telling how far she would travel, and Dee was already tired. Also, if she crossed the river, he’d have to use the bridge. Such an undertaking was dangerous. Tractor trailers barreled across the two-lane bridge at seventy miles an hour. If he was in front of them, they’d never be able to stop in time. He couldn’t do the Lord’s work if he was dead.
Even as he considered his options, he felt the girl’s presence getting farther away. If he followed on foot, he might lose her. Already, her aura was fading. No, there was only one way to follow her.
And he didn’t like it. He loathed it, in fact. It had been a long time since he’d done it, but now, it was a necessary evil. There was no other way.
Levi was afraid of flying. Afraid of heights. He had a fear of gravity.
“Thy will be done…”
He ran back into the grocery store and asked the manager if somebody could keep an eye on his horse and buggy. Levi explained that he had an important errand to run. The manager eyed the clock on the wall and pointed out that they closed in two hours. Unblinking, Levi stared him in the eye, made a slight motion with his finger and asked if the night shift would be willing to watch it for him. It was very important. Sighing, the manager agreed. Levi thanked him and left the store.
On his way back to the buggy, Levi rummaged through his pockets and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed his closest neighbor, Sterling Myers. The older man answered on the third ring. He sounded drunk. Southern rock music played in the background.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Sterling. This is Levi Stoltzfus. I hope I’m not disturbing you?”
“Hey, Levi. What’s up? I was just sitting here watching some stupid reality show. People singing. Don’t know why the wife likes this stuff.”
Levi silently agreed. When he’d finally gotten his first opportunity to watch television, he’d been underwhelmed. It wasn’t a tool of the devil. It was a tool of stupidity.
“Kids out trick-or-treating,” Sterling continued. “Don’t know why the township doesn’t wait and have that on Halloween night, but what the hell. At least the house is quiet. Anyway, enough about that. How’s it going?”
“Well,” Levi said. “Not too good, Sterling. I need a big favor.”
“Sure. What’s that?”
“I’m going to be late getting home tonight. Something’s come up. I was wondering if you could feed my dog, Crowley? He’s tied out back.”
“Yeah, I can do that. You know, those are weird names for your animals. Crowley and Dee. What’s the deal with that?”
“Old friends of the family. A long time ago.”
“I had a dog named Shithead, once.”
“Sterling, I have to get going.”
“No problem, Levi. I’ll take care of the dog. You got a key to the house hidden somewhere?”
Levi’s heart hammered in his chest. Sterling couldn’t enter the house without Levi being there. That would invite disaster.
“No,” he said, speaking carefully. “His food is in the garage. It’s unlocked. There’s no need to go inside the house at all. And Crowley has the dog house to go into if it rains, so he’ll be fine.”
“Okay. No problem.”
There was a burst of static and then Sterling came back again.
“You on your cell phone?” he asked.
“Yes,” Levi said. “I’m sorry about that. The network coverage is spotty in this area.”
“Let me ask you something, Levi.”
Levi rolled his eyes, anticipating what was coming next. He didn’t have time for this. Not tonight.
“What’s that, Sterling?”
“If you’re Amish, then how come you can use a cell phone?”
Levi sighed. “I’ve told you before, Sterling. I’m not Amish anymore. I use a cell phone for the same reason everybody else uses a cell phone: because it’s a lot more practical than a carrier pigeon.”
“Yeah,” Sterling cackled. “You got that right! Still, I hate the things. Wife has one, but I don’t. I think they’re just evil.”
“Perhaps,” Levi agreed. “But they are a necessary evil. Sometimes a little evil is necessary to achieve a greater good.”
Levi cut Sterling off in midreply and thanked him again, then hung up. He slipped the cell phone back into his pocket.
He did not smile.
There was nothing funny about what he had to do next. But it was necessary.
Thick clouds glided over the moon, engulfing it. The night grew darker.
CHAPTER SIX
Maria drove from York City to the site of the Ghost Walk. Urban row homes, ethnic restaurants, liquor stores, and pawnshops gave way to deserted industrial parks and factories, followed by the excesses of suburban sprawl, and then wide-open expanses of countryside. Along the way, she got lost on the back roads and had to turn around twice. Before leaving, she’d gone online and printed out directions; unfortunately, those directions landed her in the middle of nowhere. She’d never had to travel to the rural parts ofYork County before. It was a little scary after dark—just trees and shadows and darkened houses. Several of the porches held garishly carved jack-o’-lanterns. Their eyes and mouths flickered with an orange glow as candles burned inside them. Other than the pumpkins, the houses seemed deserted. No lamps or television lights. She passed only a handful of other cars. It was like she’d driven back through time. This part of the county seemed divorced from the rest of civilization. She felt like an astronaut exploring a different planet. In locales like this, it was easy to understand why primitive man had been so afraid of the dark.
The radio was on. Warm 103, the local easy listening station, played softly in the background. Whoever programmed the station relied heavily on songs from the sixties, seventies, and eighties—almost as if elevator music had died after 1989. Maria hated the selection, but for some reason the only other channel she could pick up in this remote area featured a preacher screaming at his audience. She tried again, scanning the dial, but found more of the same.
“Luke tells us, in chapter twenty-three, verses forty-four and forty-five, that there was a darkness over all the earth and the sun was darkened and the veil of the temple was torn in the midst. DARKNESS, brothers and sisters! It engulfs the world.”
“That’s wonderful news.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm.
“And in that darkness,” the sermon continued, “only the light of the Lord can shine. All other lights will be snuffed like a candle flame. Only the Lord’s light shall prevail. Can I get an amen?”
There was a chorus of amens, and then the preacher continued.
“Great,” Maria said. “My choices are hellfire and brimstone or Whitney Houston and The Righteous Brothers.”
Sighing, Maria tu
rned off the radio and drove in silence. She found it preferable to the preaching. Although she considered herself a spiritual person, Maria had little patience for organized religion or its spokespeople. At her father’s insistence, she’d been raised in the Islamic faith, albeit a watered-down Western version. She didn’t know what she was anymore. She disliked the agnostic label and she didn’t consider herself an atheist, but she didn’t believe in the Muslim, Christian, or Jewish versions of God, either. She’d always felt that God, if He or She existed, was probably more of a personal, singular deity—a God that was specific to the believer’s current needs rather than beholden to the dictates of an entire world. A personal Jesus, just like in the Depeche Mode song, or an instant karma, like John Lennon had sung about. She’d never told her parents this. If she did, she’d never hear the end of it. While neither of them were particularly religious behind closed doors, they were all about keeping up appearances—doing what was expected of them by the community and their peers. They expected the same of Maria. It wouldn’t do for the Nasrs’ only child to be labeled a nonbeliever, especially in times like this, when Islam was so misunderstood by so many others. She was supposed to embrace her Jordanian father’s Muslim heritage, not turn away from it—even if she didn’t truly believe.
Her attention was drawn to something black and red lying in the road. Her headlights flashed off it. Her nose wrinkled at the sharp, pungent smell of a skunk. She swerved around the dead animal and sped up.
Eventually, Maria found some roadside signs for the Ghost Walk. Simple and crude—block letters and crooked arrows spray-painted onto cheap plywood: GHOST WALK—3 MILES. Following them, she turned onto another winding road, then off the road and into a massive field. The terrain was bumpy. She bounced up and down in the seat. Her teeth clacked together.
“Jesus…”
Fragile wisps of fog swirled in her headlight beams. A paunchy man with a flashlight appeared, waving her in and directing her to the parking area. Maria smiled and nodded, indicating that she understood. Then she realized that he probably couldn’t see her in the dark, so she waved her hand instead.