by Brian Keene
She pulled out her cell phone to check the time, and realized that Terry Klein had been right when he said service was spotty in the forest. She had no signal beneath the trees. That meant she couldn’t call Ripple and find out where he was.
“Mr. Ripple?” she yelled. “Anybody here?”
Her voice seemed muted. It didn’t echo like it should have.
That’s weird, she thought. Maybe there’s something to all that folklore after all. Some kind of sound-dampening phenomena? I didn’t see anything about it in the research, though.
She continued down the path, deciding that she’d go a few more minutes before turning around and heading home. If she hadn’t found Ripple by then, she’d explain to her editor that he hadn’t shown up for the interview. Miles would be pissed, but he’d see it wasn’t her fault. Maybe she could call Ripple tomorrow and do a quick phone interview. Otherwise, the feature article would become a sidebar. At this point, Maria didn’t care. It had been a long day. All she wanted now was to go home, eat dinner, check her e-mail, and then relax in the bathtub. Maybe she’d read a little bit tonight before bed, or paint her toenails—not that anyone ever saw them.
Maybe she’d even give her mother a call.
Yeah, right. Staying out here in the woods all night was better than that.
She went down a gradual hill, passing by several more attractions. In the distance, just off the trail, she noticed a small shack. It was painted white and stood out in the darkness. Maria pointed the flashlight at it and stepped forward. As she did, the shack’s door flew open, banging against the side, and a figure lunged at her.
Maria screamed, dropping the flashlight.
The woods turned pitch black.
“So what’s the verdict, Rudy? You gonna let me open on time or what?”
The fire chief shrugged. “It’s hard to check everything in the dark, Ken. I can’t see shit out here.”
Frowning, Terry glanced at Ken, then back to the chief. Behind them, windblown tree branches skittered across the roof of the maze house. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
Ken sighed. “Are you serious?”
“Well, yeah,” Rudy said. “I can’t inspect if I can’t see.”
“Goddamn it. Then why the hell did you want to do this tonight? Why not wait until morning?”
“It’s the only free time I had,” Rudy explained, holding up his hands. “I’m a busy man. You think I just sit around in the fire house, jerking off to midget porn and waiting for a call?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do.”
“Well, fuck you.”
Both men stared at each other for a moment. Then they both laughed. After a second, Terry joined in. Rudy reached out and squeezed Ken’s shoulder.
“Had you going for a minute there, didn’t I?”
“Hell, no,” Ken said. “But seriously, are we cool?”
Rudy nodded, smiling. “You’re fine, Ken. I hereby give the Ghost Walk my official seal of approval. I’ll sign off first thing in the morning—let the township office know so they can file the paperwork.”
“That won’t hold us up, will it?”
“No. The paperwork is just a formality. Like I said earlier, just make sure you have fire extinguishers stationed every hundred yards, and that all of your volunteers know where they are and how to operate them. Other than that, I don’t see any major problems.”
“Terry will pick them up tomorrow.”
“Sure will,” Terry said. “That’s on my list for tomorrow, along with making sure the portable toilets get delivered. Anything else you can think of, Rudy?”
“Just what I said earlier. You guys can’t have a Carve Your Own Pumpkin tent for the kids. I think it’s a sweet idea, but we can’t have a bunch of elementary school kids running around with knives.”
Ken nodded. “But the apple bobbing tent is okay?”
“Sure,” Rudy said. “Just make sure it’s supervised.”
“Anything else?” Terry asked.
“No. I think that’s it. You guys have done a good job here. Seriously. You should be proud, Ken.”
“Thanks, Rudy.” Ken’s voice grew soft. “That means a lot to us. In truth, I couldn’t have put this together without Terry’s help.”
“It was your idea,” Terry said. “You’re the brains. I’m just the brawn.”
“I just wish Deena could see it, you know?”
Rudy put his hand on Ken’s shoulder. “Maybe she does, man. Maybe she does.”
“Yeah.”
They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Terry broke it by clearing his throat.
“That reporter is still waiting,” he reminded Ken. “Maria something-or-other.”
“Nasr,” Ken said.
Terry shrugged. “We ought to get back up there. She’s probably pissed.”
“I’ll make it up to her.” Ken stifled a yawn.
“You okay?” Terry asked.
Ken nodded. “Just tired. Seems like the last few weeks I’ve frigging lived in these woods.”
“It will be worth it,” Terry said.
“Damn straight,” Rudy agreed. “I can’t wait to see this place filled with people. You guys think you’re tired now, you better get a good night’s sleep while you can. In a few days, you’ll be busier than ever.”
“You’re a ray of fucking sunshine, Rudy. You know that?”
“That’s why you love me.”
“Any other words of wisdom you want to lay on us, Captain Obvious?”
“Your face is about as ugly as Terry’s ass.”
Ken blinked. “Nothing’s that ugly.”
Chuckling, the three men began hiking back up the trail. They were almost to the out house attraction when they heard a woman’s scream. It pierced the night, echoing through the trees. Startled, Ken dropped his flashlight. They halted, glancing around in confusion while Ken fumbled for the light.
“What the hell was that?” Rudy gasped.
“That reporter,” Terry said. “It’s got to be her. Maybe she’s hurt.”
“Come on!”
Ken dashed up the trail, his footsteps pounding in the darkness. Terry and the fire chief ran after him. Another scream rang out.
“Hello,” Ken shouted. “We’re coming!”
“Miss Nasr?” Terry cried. “Is that you? Sound off!”
Wincing, Rudy stayed silent and concentrated on breathing. He reminded himself for the hundredth time since turning forty that he needed to get in shape.
As the three men charged forward, the screams abruptly stopped.
“Who’s there?” A woman’s voice.
“It’s Ken Ripple. I’ve got Terry Klein and Rudy Snyder with me. Is that you, Miss Nasr?”
“Yes.”
“Are you okay?”
“There’s someone hiding in this fucking out house! He ducked back inside.”
Ken and Terry glanced at each other. Terry snickered.
“It works,” Ken whispered. Then he called out to Maria, “It’s okay, Miss Nasr. Just stay where you are. It’s a dummy. You triggered it when you walked by.”
“What?”
“Oh, shit,” Terry muttered. “She sounds pissed off. Hope she’s not the suing type. Last thing we need is a bullshit lawsuit.”
“It’s a Ghost Walk,” Ken said. “What the hell does she expect?”
Rudy nodded in agreement. “It is supposed to be scary.”
They reached Maria a moment later. She stood just off the path, amidst heavy undergrowth. She stepped out onto the trail as they approached.
“You okay?” Ken asked.
Maria turned away from his flashlight beam, shielding her eyes. “You mind not shining that thing in my face?”
“Sorry.” Ken switched his flashlight off. “I’m Ken Ripple. This is Rudy Snyder, Winterstown’s fire chief. And you’ve already met Terry.”
Maria nodded at Rudy and Terry and shook hands with Ken.
“Nice to meet you—finally. What t
he hell just happened?”
“Well, you see Miss Nasr—”
“Maria. Please.”
“Okay, Maria. There’s a pressure switch buried just under the path. When people step on it, the switch sends a signal to the out house. The door flies open and a dummy jumps out. Then it resets again.”
“You were our first victim,” Terry joked. “Scared you good, huh?”
Maria glared at him. Then her expression softened.
“If you want me to be honest, I think I may have peed my pants a little. And I broke my flashlight. Dropped it when the dummy popped out.”
Ken grinned. “Can I use that as an endorsement?”
“That depends. Are you still going to let me interview you tonight?”
“After making you wait and then scaring you? Sure. I haven’t eaten since lunch. You hungry?”
Maria arched an eyebrow. “I could eat. I spent most of the day doing research.”
“How about we conduct the interview at the Round the Clock Diner? My treat.”
“Mr. Ripple, you’ve got a deal.”
“Call me Ken. Please.”
Maria smiled.
The four walked out of the woods together. The darkness closed behind them.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Levi’s body remained on the ground, lying hidden between the Dumpsters behind the grocery store. The stick was still clutched in his hands, touching his nose and groin. The rest of him, his astral self, soared above the parking lot, rocketing higher with each passing second.
When he was eight years old, Levi had ignored his father’s warnings and climbed to the top of the family grain silo. He’d done it to show his brother, Matthew, and their friend, Elias, that he wasn’t afraid. But he had been. Levi had stopped halfway up the ladder, unable to proceed and too terrified to climb back down. He’d remained there, whimpering, clinging to the iron rungs, his eyes squeezed shut, until his father climbed up and rescued him.
He looked down now and remembered that day. All of his old fears came rushing up to meet him.
Levi screamed soundlessly.
The ground got farther away.
Get control…
He focused, forcing himself to halt, rather than fly. His speedy ascent stopped. Gently, slowly, he glided downward until he was hovering just over Columbia’s roofs and treetops. He looked in all directions, seeking the girl and trying not to focus on the ground. He noticed signs of her passing—dogs barking, children crying in their beds, birds fallen from tree limbs—but not the girl herself. Willing himself forward, Levi followed the carnage left in her wake. Distracted, he floated higher again. If he didn’t focus on staying anchored when he flew, he’d continue to rise. To stay tethered to his body, he needed to concentrate.
The cross of Christ be with me; the cross of Christ overcomes all water and every fire and all heights.
He risked another glance below, and immediately regretted it. His butt puckered and his stomach fluttered.
So far up …
Levi was always amazed at the sensations during flight. He was nothing more than an astral projection. He didn’t have a stomach right now, but he felt it just the same. Felt the fear making it clench. He didn’t have eyes or a nose or ears. They remained behind with the rest of his body. And yet, the senses remained; sight, smell, and hearing still functioned in this psychic form, sharper than they were in his physical body. Levi didn’t know how or why. The only person who could have explained it to him satisfactorily was his father, and Amos had passed away long before Levi attempted his first flight. He was sure there were other folks who had theories. New-Agers. But nothing annoyed Levi more than New Age mystics, except for maybe Evangelicals. Both were hypocrites and cons—wolves dressed in sheep’s clothing. Part of the problem disguised as the solution. So Levi had never sought out help from the crystal-worshipping, herbal supplement crowd. Not that they would have welcomed him anyway. Even among the fringe, Levi was alone.
Still on the girl’s trail, Levi picked up speed. He tried to ignore his fear of heights and focused instead on tracking his quarry. He swooped over more homes and apartments and quickly reached the waterfront. The area was dominated by a large, desolate-looking furniture factory. Like the rest of the town, the building had seen better days. Once the center of industry, it now appeared tired and run-down. Bucolic, just like the rest of Columbia’s citizens.
Beyond the factory lay the Susquehanna River, broad and swift and glittering in the moonlight. Its waters ran cold and deep, a little over half a mile wide. Twin bridges crossed the span. On the far shore were the ruins of a Civil War–era ferry crossing.
Levi’s attention was drawn to the center of the waterway. A patch of darkness spread out across the river’s surface, halfway between the Lancaster County shoreline and York County on the other side. In its center was the girl, like a rotten spot inside a cancerous tumor. The darkness was blacker than the night around it, engulfing everything in its path. It flowed from the girl like mist. The tendrils formed a cloud around her, extending from her body almost five feet in each direction. Her aura was brighter, now that he viewed it from his astral form. The darkness pulsed like a living thing as she swam across the river with jerky, spasmodic strokes. Levi watched her movements, convinced that this was further evidence of something supernatural. Even athletes tired when crossing the expanse. Many had drowned in this section over the years. And yet, the girl showed no signs of tiring.
Where are you going? And more importantly, who are you? What’s your name?
Levi drifted over the water, gradually slowing down again so that he could keep a safe distance and avoid detection. At the same time, he flew higher, lifting himself out of easy range in case the entity became aware of his presence and launched an attack.
Lord, he prayed, I am your servant and your sword. Guide my hand tonight as if it were your own. Though my methods might not all be yours, let their purpose be to thy glory.
He glanced down again, rather than ahead. The river seemed so far below. From this height, the water’s surface shined like glass. Moonlight flickered off the waves. The girl was a dark smudge.
And, he continued, if you’re so inclined, Lord, please don’t let me fall…
Maria took another sip of coffee.
“So you don’t believe in any of it at all? You don’t think Nelson LeHorn’s ghost still haunts the hollow?”
Her digital voice recorder lay between them on the tabletop, recording the conversation. Ken had seemed nervous of it at first, speaking in halting, self-aware sentences. But gradually, he’d relaxed, forgetting about the device altogether. The leftover remnants of their late dinner covered the rest of the table. Ken had ordered a hamburger and fries. Maria had ordered a grilled chicken salad. The waitress had done a good job of keeping their coffee cups filled.
Ken was apologetic at first, determined to make up for delaying their interview, and for the bad scare Maria had suffered. In return, Maria had remained clinical and distant, seeking only the facts. But as the evening went on, they both warmed to each other. Maria found Ken to be genuine and friendly. He liked her determined attitude and her playful sense of sarcasm. She’d been interviewing him for the last half hour, learning about the Ghost Walk, his deceased wife, and more.
Despite the late hour, the diner was crowded. Long-haul truckers sat at the front counter, reading newspapers and magazines or talking to each other. A group of boisterous college students occupied a large booth, playing an apparently high-stakes game of Magic: The Gathering. Even though it wasn’t yet Halloween, several of them were in costume. An elderly couple sat at a corner table, ignoring the others around them, sharing the comfortable silence that only longtime partners seemed to enjoy. A younger couple sat nearby, engaged in the type of small talk and forced conversation that indicated a first date. The sleepy-eyed waitress moved among them all, lost in her own thoughts, only coming out of her reverie long enough to ask if anyone would like dessert.
“No,
” Ken answered Maria’s question. “Not really. I mean, some weird things have happened there over the years. There’s no denying that. Folks have died. But that was from accidents or stupidity, mostly. Not because of ghosts or demons or shit like that. Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to curse.”
“That’s okay,” Maria said. “I can edit that out. So you don’t believe any of it?”
“Nope.”
“What about Patricia LeHorn’s murder? What do you think contributed to that?”
“Simple. Nelson LeHorn was a nut job. Just because he believed he was a witch, that doesn’t necessarily make him one. He murdered his wife because he was crazy, not because she’d actually slept with the devil.”
“How do you know for sure?”
Ken smiled. “Don’t tell me you believe this stuff?”
Maria shrugged. “Not really. But it’s my job to keep an open mind, right? Reporters are supposed to be analytical. Explore all options and find the truth.”
“If you say so. I don’t know. I never met a reporter before. I thought you were just writing up a little article on the Ghost Walk.”
“I am. But everyone in York County knows about LeHorn’s Hollow. And people love a good ghost story. It wouldn’t be much of an article if we didn’t mention this. I mean, that’s the whole reason you based your operation in those woods, right? To be near the hollow?”
“True.” Ken glanced down at the recorder and cleared his throat. “Well, you asked how I know LeHorn was crazy. It wasn’t a big secret or anything. My dad used to know him.”