by Jeff Strand
* * *
Christopher lay on his bed on top of the blankets, still in his work clothes. Maybe that's how he'd spend Halloween weekend: lie in bed, stare at the ceiling, and count the time in quarter-second intervals until Mr. Tylerson saw fit to reveal his fate.
His mother had told him weeks ago not to make any plans for this weekend, insisting that she had "an amazing, wonderful, thrilling surprise" that he'd just looooove, but Christopher didn't feel up to anything more amazing, wonderful, and thrilling than lying here and getting in a lot of quality moping-around time.
The phone rang. He briefly considered letting it go to voice mail, but his mom wasn't big on leaving messages and would keep calling until a live person answered.
"Hello?" he answered, still lying flat.
"Christopher? You sound mopey."
"I'm not mopey."
"Good. Are you ready for your surprise?"
"Yeah."
"That didn't sound very enthusiastic. Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine. I'm just tired."
"Too tired for...The Haunted Forest Tour?"
Christopher immediately sat up. "What?"
"Oooh, now you're not so mopey, are you?"
"You got tickets to the Haunted Forest Tour?"
"Not just the Haunted Forest Tour. The Halloween Haunted Forest Tour. It's the deepest any tour group has ever gone into the forest."
"Are you kidding? How'd you get those? I thought they weren't available to the general public."
"What makes you think I'm the general public?"
"Seriously, how'd you get them?"
"I won them. Did you know that at one point The Texas Chainsaw Massacre was going to be called Headcheese?"
"No."
"I did. That's how I got the tickets."
"How are we going to get there?"
"Well, since I'm not up for a twenty-three-hour drive, I bought us plane tickets. Our flight leaves tomorrow at seven. Sorry you don't get to sleep in."
Christopher couldn't believe this. He'd been interested in the Haunted Forest Tour ever since it opened a year ago. Screw Mr. Tylerson and his We'll discuss this on Monday crap. Screw lying around wallowing in self-pity. He'd worry about his potential for becoming an unemployed loser after the tour.
"How much were the plane tickets?" he asked.
"None of your business."
"Then let me pay for the hotel."
"How about you finally pay back that fifty cents you borrowed when you were six?"
"Never!"
"I'm paying for everything," she assured him. "The downside is that you have to spend an entire weekend with your mother. It'll be fun. You need some fun in your life."
You couldn't be more right. "Well, thanks!"
"So what were you moping about? Bad day at work?"
"Eh, the usual. Just waiting for the aspirin to kick in."
"I won't keep you, honey. Hurry up and get packed. We've got a great weekend ahead of us!"
"Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate this."
"That's what mothers are for. Happy Halloween!"
Christopher hung up the phone. Wow. His mom had actually made everything all better.
He got up and went to his closet. He would've done a load of laundry if he'd known he was leaving town for the weekend, but he could scavenge something wearable.
Four years ago, scientists were beyond baffled by the events at Cromay, New Mexico. An entire forest sprouted out of nowhere, engulfing the desert town and killing a presumed two hundred and seventy-three people. The tales shared by those who escaped were unbelievable, but yet difficult to contradict considering that there was now a forest out in the desert that hadn't been there the day before.
Christopher and his ex-wife, Samantha, had watched the nightly news with fascination. Rescue teams went into the forest to search for survivors and never returned. The forest was too thick to explore from overhead, but news crews in helicopters were able to capture footage of eerie glows within the trees.
Mark J. Cardin, Jr., a hotshot reporter for Fox News, was grabbed by...something while doing a live newscast. Something big. His blood covered the camera lens, making it difficult to figure out exactly what happened after that, but neither Mark nor his cameraman ever returned.
"The Haunted Forest" continued to make nightly headlines. There was a lot of debate over whether it was truly "haunted" or merely populated by unidentified creatures, but the name stuck. The Internet was filled with conspiracy theories, the most common of which was that the United States government had developed a high-tech tree growth hormone that had gotten out of control, and that the creatures in the forest were being bred as super-soldiers.
The Haunted Forest eventually faded from the news headlines until a year ago, when H.F. Enterprises announced the Haunted Forest Tour. They'd installed track that, while it didn't go deep into the forest, did circle the entire perimeter. The trams were reinforced and, according to the advertisements, "impervious to damage by any creature or ghost."
The tours were a smash hit, making countless millions of dollars for H.F. Enterprises. Any type of photography or video recording was strictly forbidden, but tour patrons reported sightings of all manner of bizarre and frightening creatures. One elderly woman died of a heart attack when a fanged creature scraped at the window next to her seat. The resulting lawsuit was settled out of court. But beyond that, H.F. Enterprises proudly boasted of its "100% safety record! Nobody has ever been eaten on one of our tours, and nobody ever will!"
Christopher had really wanted to go, but that was right around the time of his divorce. There was no infidelity or any other single destructive event involved. Rather, it was twelve years of gradually accumulating annoyance with each other that finally exploded. Samantha flew to California to "find herself," while Christopher worked, watched television, and ignored his mother's advice to go out and try to meet people.
Then H.F. Enterprises had announced the newest incarnation of the Haunted Forest Tour. This one cut right through the center of the forest, with "shocking sights that will absolutely blow your mind!" The tour was set to open on Halloween, and he hadn't realized that it was possible for non-millionaires to get tickets.
Christopher was almost giddy.
Scratch that. He was completely giddy.
* * *
He was slightly less giddy when the alarm went off at four-thirty. Even during one of his sixteen-hour days at Novellon, he got to sleep in later than this. But a hot shower and Godzilla-sized cup of coffee put him back in an excited frame of mind.
His mother stood outside waiting for him as he pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex. Mindy Brummit looked at least ten years younger than her real age of fifty-seven. In fact, the only time Christopher had seen his mother looking her true age was at his father's funeral.
He parked and got out of the car. Not surprisingly, she'd packed three large suitcases for a two-day trip.
He gave her a tight hug. "You know, they only let you check two pieces of luggage."
"Two each. How many suitcases did you bring?"
"One."
"See? Problem solved."
Christopher unlocked the trunk. His mother had curly red hair that she insisted was her natural color. Of course, she'd insisted that last month's brunette shade was her natural color, along with the bleached blonde look of last year. She wore a blue and green Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and sunglasses, a strong contrast to the slacks and white dress shirt that Christopher was wearing.
"At least you didn't wear a tie," she said, reaching up to adjust his collar.
Though she was a small woman, she was anything but frail. Christopher often joked that she could beat the crap out of him in a bar fight, but he secretly wasn't entirely certain that it was a joke. She worked full time as a receptionist at a law firm, and devoted her spare time to gardening, gourmet cooking, pottery, bicycling, swimming, "power-knitting" (racing against her friends to complete a sweater in the faste
st time), and karate.
How'd she end up with such a boring son? he wondered.
He put her suitcases—which weighed approximately eight thousand pounds each, or so he told her—in the back of the car, and they left for the airport.
"Thanks, Mom," he said. "I really appreciate this."
"Remember that when it's time for my nursing home. I want the place where they don't harvest your internal organs in the middle of the night. At least not the important ones."
"Gotcha."
"Are you ready to be scared out of your wits?"
"Absolutely!"
CHAPTER TWO
The air was crisp, with just a hint of autumn that would probably fade away as the sun rose higher. It was a perfect day for a picnic. Less perfect for a terrifying tour through a monster-ridden forest, but that was okay. Mark Harper knew that the tourists would still get their money's worth, big-time. They always did.
The people arriving on the tour bus all looked excited, even the older ones. After all, how often did you get a chance to see monsters in a safe environment? Or any environment? Though Mark's involvement with H.F. Enterprises was entirely on the scientific research end, rather than the spook show end, he thoroughly enjoyed the idea of the Haunted Forest Tour and occasionally took a ride himself just to see their reactions.
A large banner read "Welcome to the First Annual Haunted Forest Halloween Tour" in bright orange letters on a slime-green field. The official logo of H.F. Enterprises was on each corner of the banner, as if anyone would suddenly forget where they were.
Below the banner were stacks of T-shirts, posters, coffee mugs, snow globes, monster-shaped candy, Christmas tree ornaments, ball caps, key chains, jewelry, watches, press-on tattoos, ties, sunglasses, refrigerator magnets, monster masks, and countless other examples of overpriced crap available for your purchasing ecstasy. Mark Harper had tried the Haunted Forest taffy once. Once.
Behind the banner and the displays of souvenirs was the actual office of H.F. Enterprises, a four-story affair. The large windows were reflective and cast back slightly distorted images of the various people who walked in front of them as well as the cerulean sky and just a few puffy white clouds. The forest itself, about half a mile away, was a dark, jagged shadow along the lowest edge of the glass.
Mark looked at his own reflection in the glass and straightened his tie. He also finger-combed his hair because, as always, he wanted to look his best for the woman walking up the stairs behind him.
Hannah Chambers was not his lover. She was his co-worker and damned good at her job. Mark was a happily married man who just happened to think—in a purely platonic, non-sleazy manner—that his co-worker was one of the sexiest women alive. He did not speak of these things with her, or with his wife Chloe. That would be bad. Extremely bad.
He loved Chloe and would never be unfaithful to her.
Unless he ever got really, really drunk or accidentally swallowed a few Viagra tablets and even then, the only way he would ever go through with it was if Hannah put him in a situation where he absolutely couldn't refuse. Perhaps it was a matter of life or death, or possibly somebody's honor was at stake, or maybe she was under such incredible stress that if she didn't find a release she'd have a heart attack, and he couldn't very well let somebody this important to the workings of H.F. Enterprises have a heart attack...
Mostly they just flirted, and then Mark did his best not to think of the situations in which he would willingly cheat on his wife with his peer. He could only count a few of them (if you included only broad generalities), which wasn't so bad. And he'd probably never go through with them even if those situations presented themselves, because he was happily married. To Chloe. The love of his life.
It was best that way, really, but he still always wanted to make sure he looked his best for Hannah.
He turned away from the window before she could see him looking at himself and smiled as she moved past a crowd of tourists. There was a little tyke begging his mom for an I Survived The Halloween Haunted Forest Tour T-shirt, complete with a smiling one-eyed ghoul illustration. There were no smiling one-eyed ghouls in the Haunted Forest, of course. Not as far as Mark knew at any rate, and if anyone would know, it would be him or Hannah. It was their jobs to know.
Hannah moved closer and smiled. "Can you believe this crowd?"
"Can you believe how many of them are buying the taffy?"
She laughed and rolled her blue eyes, flipping her blond hair back from her forehead. She wore a little makeup, but only a little. She didn't need it. She also didn't necessarily need all of those clothes, since she would look perfectly stylish and professional in only a-
Chloe. He made himself remember his wife and look away from Hannah before he could stare at her ample chest. Chloe had a great body too. Just in a different way. Really.
The problem with Hannah was that she was just as smart and witty as she was attractive. Mark's infatuation was totally understandable, and totally within the bounds of what was acceptable in a morally sound marriage. Though it would have been easier if Hannah had a big leaking wart on her nose.
Hannah stood up a little straighter, and that was enough warning for Mark. Two seconds later, he saw Booth coming in their direction. Most of the big guys at the H.F. Enterprises preferred to go by their first names, but Martin Booth preferred to go by "Booth." Not Mr. Booth. Just Booth.
"How are ya, guys?" Booth smiled as he walked past, looking spry and happy. His dark hair was perfect, and the matching mustache and goatee were trimmed close to his face. That he was happy was a relief, because Mark had seen the man angry, and it was enough to create a whole row of ulcers.
"Couldn't be much better." Mark smiled and tried to look relaxed. Booth owned the company, yet had little to do with the actual running of it. In fact, Mark rarely saw the man. Seeing him out here, acting all chipper, was just plain weird.
Booth patted his shoulder. "Glad to hear it. Big day today, yes indeed. Should be interesting to see what everyone has to say about the new extended tour."
Mark and Hannah had both traveled the new route several times and were still impressed by it. Hannah nodded emphatically, and Mark noticed Booth's eyes checking her out. He managed to avoid bristling at the visual undressing. First, it wasn't his concern, since he was a happily married man who was completely devoted to his wife Chloe and would never cheat, and second, Hannah would probably club him over the head if he acted like a teenaged boyfriend around her.
Booth smiled again, obviously enjoying the mental image he had drawn up of Hannah's nakedness. Mark wondered how closely it matched his own. And how closely his own image matched the real one. "Well, I'm gonna go make sure everything's set up properly," Booth told them. "You guys be on your best behavior, okay? The press is swarming this place. Oh, and Happy Halloween."
He headed on his way without waiting for a response.
Mark watched him go and from the corner of his eye he saw Hannah watching as well. Her eyes weren't aimed at the back of his head, but substantially lower.
She caught him looking and smiled. "What?" She blushed a little. "He's got a nice butt."
"Can't say I ever noticed."
"It's firm and shapely and probably inflexible to the touch, just the way I like them." Hannah punched him playfully in the arm. "Anyway, let's get inside. It's lecture time again!"
* * *
“Can I have one, Aunt Jean?”
Tommy Walker looked up at his aunt and put on his most effective wide-eyed expression. It didn’t take much work, because he already had wide eyes and a face that bordered on pretty. At least that was what his uncle always said. His uncle always said weird things like that. Aunt Jean said it was because he worked in Hollywood and liked to find new ways to look at things. Mommy always said it was because Uncle Perry was a pervert.
He had no idea what a pervert was, and Mommy wouldn’t tell him, but he figured it had to be something funny, because Mommy always laughed when she said it.
He liked hearing Mommy laugh. It didn’t happen all that often.
Aunt Jean looked at the Day-Glo shirt in his hands and shook her head, but she was smiling when she did it. It seemed like there were a zillion things he wanted at the stands around them, from the neat shirts to the candy and even the books with pictures. He was in six-year-old heaven.
“Maybe when we’re done with the tour, okay, honey?”
Tommy frowned. He already knew enough of his aunt’s code to understand that meant he wasn’t going to get the shirt.
Uncle Perry was nearby on his phone, talking to somebody in a loud, angry voice. Tommy knew that he was working on a deal, and it was supposed to have been finished two weeks ago, but things hadn't worked out right. Tommy didn't completely understand what was going on, but Uncle Perry was pretty mad about it, and Aunt Jean was mad that he was talking on the phone during their vacation.
He hoped that Uncle Perry's deal didn't make them miss the tram. He wanted to see the monsters. Real ones, not like the ones in Harry Potter. He was a little scared, but Aunt Jean was there with him and she always protected him. Even when Mommy and Daddy yelled at each other, it was Aunt Jean who came over to take him to her place to sleep for the night. He spent a lot of time with his aunt.
Sometimes Uncle Perry was there, too, but a lot of times he was out of town and making movies. Tommy set down the T-shirt and pointed to the candy bars.
“Can I have one of those?”
Aunt Jean looked at the array of Haunted Forest Tour confections and sighed. “Okay, but just one. We have lunch after the tour and we don’t want to spoil it.”
Uncle Perry closed up his phone and walked back over to them. "Stupid. Stupid, stupid people. God, I hate stupid people."
"Did he back out?"
"He's trying to. Stupid idiot moron jerk."
As Aunt Jean sighed, Tommy tried not to pout. He definitely wasn't going to get a T-shirt after the tour.
* * *
Mark stood at the podium and watched Hannah as she stacked her papers together. She brought the same papers with her every time they did the lecture, but she never referred to them. He sometimes suspected they were there strictly for show and merely contained half-finished Sudoku puzzles, but either way, watching her shuffle them around and then put them back into a neat stack was always fun. Her body had the most interesting way of shaking when it came time to get the messy heap into an orderly shape.