Ghost Walk

by Brian Keene

  Confused and frustrated, Maria threw her pen down on the note pad and sighed. Ramirez started crying again.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she said softly, trying to sound sympathetic.

  “You want to understand? You want to believe? Tell you what. Go on down there to the hollow and have a look around. Even now, with it all burned up. You don’t even have to go to the heart of it. Just walk around the woods for a bit. You’ll believe. And then you’ll have that belief sucked away, along with everything you’ve ever felt. Love. Hate. All your thoughts and emotions and feelings. It will suck them all away and leave you with just darkness inside.”

  “Mr. Ramirez, what about—”

  “Just darkness.”

  He hung up again. This time, Maria did not call him back.

  Depressed, she had the sudden urge to call her mother, but she resisted. Instead, she poured herself another cup of coffee and got ready for the night.

  “And over there,” Ken said, pointing to a part of the field where a makeshift stage had been constructed, “is where the bands will play. We’ll have a local rock band and a hip-hop group from Baltimore here tomorrow night for the afterparty. Subsequent nights will feature country, pop music, and the Red Lion High School marching band. We’ll also use the stage to make announcements and such to the crowds while they’re waiting to enter the trail.”

  He paused, surveying the assembled crowd of volunteer staff members. There were over fifty of them, along with private contractors, concession stand operators, a representative for the emergency medical specialists who would be on duty at the site, the farmers handling the hay rides, and dozens of others. He’d never spoken to a crowd this big before and he found it daunting. He’d never been much of a public speaker.

  There was still no sign of Cecil, Russ, or Tina. No Sam or Rhonda, either. He searched the crowd, trying to distinguish their faces. Instead, he saw Terry, who smiled at him from the front row, nodding in encouragement to go on.

  “Here’s how it will work,” Ken continued. “When they come in from the road, we’ll park them in the designated sections of the field. That’s where you folks parked tonight. We can hold up to five hundred vehicles at one time. Hopefully, we won’t run out of room—although that would be sort of nice, from a financial perspective.”

  The crowd laughed, filling Ken with more confidence.

  “Those of you on flag duty will collect your orange safety vests and flashlights tomorrow night. Then you’ll take your positions. You guys are lucky. You’re the only volunteers that get walkie-talkies, because radio and cell phone signals don’t work in the forest. So use them to stay in contact with each other. Figure out who has empty spaces and who’s full.

  “Over here,” he pointed, “is where we’ll have our concession stands and merchants. I see that some of you are set up already, which is good. The rest of you will want to get here early tomorrow, and take care of your preparations. We’re happy to have Bricker’s French Fries, Porky’s Barbeque, and other local vendors. I’m sure you’ve seen them at the state fair and local carnivals, so you know how good their food is. All you have to do is look at my waistline to know.”

  More polite laughter.

  “The Golgotha Lutheran Church Ladies’ Auxiliary will have a bake sale booth, and the VFW, American Legion, Knights of Columbus, and Lions Club will also be on hand. All of these groups have been kind enough to donate their profits to our cause, so please be sure to thank them. We’ll also have some games for the kids, along with a petting zoo and a dunk tank.”

  “Who gets in the dunk tank?” Tom shouted.

  “You do, Tom.” Raucous laughter greeted this. Ken grinned, amused. Shielding his eyes against the glare of multiple spotlights, he went on. “No, in all seriousness, we’ve got a fine slate of volunteers. The principals from Kennard-Dale, Red Lion, and Spring Grove High Schools have all volunteered, along with the chief of police for Windsor Township, the mayor of Wrightsville, and a few other elected officials. Again, all proceeds will go to the charity.”

  “That’s good,” a man called, “because I’ll spend a hundred bucks to drown the mayor!”

  Ken chuckled along with everyone else. When the commotion had subsided, he continued, the last of his nervousness fading.

  “People can mill about in the concession area for as long as they like. We’ll have a row of portable toilets at the rear of the area. But to actually enter the Ghost Walk, they’ll have to line up at the ticket booth. We’ll have stanchions and ropes to keep the line orderly and to prevent folks from cutting in. Hopefully, we won’t have too much of that sort of thing. Our big concern is people sneaking in through the woods, and to counteract that, we’ll have spotters positioned at strategic points along the trail. Their job is two fold. As I said, they’ll watch for people who try to get in without paying. But they’re also there to protect you. They’ll be very easy to recognize—each of them will be wearing a baseball cap that says ‘Ghost Walk Staff’ in glow-in-the dark letters.”

  “Yeah,” a fat woman yelled, “but then the people sneaking in without paying can see them, too.”

  “Maybe,” Ken conceded, “but we’re more concerned with the safety of our staff and volunteers. So if any of you get into trouble—be it an unruly attendee or a bunch of kids messing things up or a medical emergency—find the nearest security spotter and let them know. They’ll get a message back up here to operations and we’ll help you out. As I said, communications are spotty in the woods, but we’ve got runners who will do that very thing—run messages back and forth all night long. They’ll also bring you coffee, hot chocolate, water, or spot you while you go on a bathroom break.”

  “What about beer?”

  Ken couldn’t see the speaker. They were hidden in the glare of the spotlights.

  “No alcohol,” he said. “We’re not going to let people in if they’re intoxicated, and we ask the same of our volunteers. You can drink all you want at the afterparty tomorrow night, though. Just make sure you’ve got a designated driver.”

  Ken paused, running over his mental checklist to find his place again.

  “Once they’ve bought their ticket and are cued up in line, the hay wagons will bring them down in groups of twelve, with five-minute breaks between groups. That will give all of you on the trail a chance to catch your breath, adjust your costumes, and things like that. It will also help cut down on congestion. As you’ll see when we do the walk-through here in a moment, the trail loops around. The exit is about fifty yards from the entrance. We’ll have wagons waiting there as well, ready to bring folks back. To walk the entire trail from beginning to end, including a stop at each attraction, will take the average person about forty-five minutes. So although we’re going to try to give you breaks in between groups, stay on your toes. I’m sure there will be stragglers.”

  His cell phone rang, but Ken ignored it.

  “A few thoughts on scaring people. Obviously, people who attend a haunted attraction like this enjoy being scared. But we want it to be fun for them, and we want to keep safety in mind. So absolutely under no circumstances should you touch an attendee. Scaring them is fine. Physical contact is not. And be mindful of who you’re scaring. If it’s a little kid, and they are obviously terrified—not in a good way, you know what I mean—then consider making them feel better. Maybe be funny instead, or act like you’re scared of them. Where’s Christopher Jones at?”

  “Here!”

  “Chris, you’re playing Leatherface, right?”

  “Hell, yeah!”

  “Make sure you take the chain off of your chainsaw. The last thing we need is you cutting somebody or tripping over a tree root and hurting yourself. Some of us here remember how you almost cut your finger off field-dressing that spike buck two years ago.”

  “You just had to bring that up, didn’t you, Ken?”

  “Well, we made fun of Tom earlier. Gotta spread the love, brother.”

  The throng laughed again, bu
t Ken could tell by watching the first few rows that they were getting restless. He decided to wrap things up and get on with the walk-through, before he lost them.

  “Okay!” He raised his voice a little, commanding their attention once more. “That’s about all I have. Any questions before we begin the walk?”

  A dozen hands shot up.

  Ken sighed. It was going to be a long night.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Maria parked at a twenty-four-hour convenience store about a block and a half away from the White Rose Mental Health Facility. This section of town was still relatively unscathed by crime and drugs, so she felt safe walking the distance. The sidewalks were clean and in good shape, free of cracks or holes. The streets were lined with sprawling elm trees and bright streetlights, and the old houses were neat and tidy, populated mostly by retirees or converted into professional offices for doctors and lawyers. Many of them were decorated for Halloween. Paper cutouts of witches and ghosts hung in the windows. Pumpkins sat on porches and stoops, carved in a wide array of designs—everything from smiley faces to demons to something that resembled Pac-Man. Some of the homes had dried cornstalks or varieties of squash and melons arranged in tasteful displays. One home even had strings of orange Christmas lights strung all over the exterior.

  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 an
d 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.