Where Nightmares Ride

by R A Baxter

  The frog poked its head up from behind a rock, then stood and walked to Jack. It pushed aside a fern with its little walking stick and stared at Jack with a bewildered expression on its face.

  “I’m sorry, Katie!” Jack sat up and yelled as loud as he could, hoping she could hear him within the mountain. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you. I shouldn’t have talked you into coming with me. I’m sorry for everything.”

  “Screaming is not pleasant,” the frog said.

  “Get out of here!” Jack grabbed the nearest rock and hurled it at him.

  The bullfrog squealed and leapt out of the stone’s path, then dived into a clump of ferns next to a wide tree stump.

  “Your density is far more than physical, my friend. You want to know why birds-who-eat-dead-animals circle in the sky above us? Clearly, they’re waiting for us to die of old age, sitting here talking to Katies who aren’t there. I beseech you to becalm yourself such that we may recommence our journey in a more civilized manner.”

  Jack nabbed a nearby rock and threw it at the frog, but it ricocheted off the tree stump and crashed against an aspen.

  “It’s no surprise to me that this mountain abhors you,” the frog said. “Is this Katie of yours this irritating?”

  Jack reached for another rock, but thought for a moment, and dropped it.

  He grinned and jumped to his feet. “You could be right. Maybe the mountain doesn’t like her.” He hiked down the trail at a brisk pace.

  The bullfrog leaped after him from its hiding place, hopping to keep up. “Is this hasty pace necessary?”

  “I have to hurry. If the mountain doesn’t like my friends, it might’ve pushed them out somewhere, same as it did with me. Look for impressions in the ground.”

  Jack scurried along the mountainside trail, the frog leaping behind him. He scanned the mountain for openings and the ground for depressions. He rushed past a cluster of young aspens and wondered at some of the leaves floating in the air, taking their assigned places on the trees without actually being connected to them.

  “I beg you to please slow down, if you don’t mind.” The frog took a heavy breath between every few words. “Running is not conducive to conversation.”

  “Just answer me one thing.” Jack stopped and stared at the frog. “Are you an illusion? Am I just imagining you’re here?”

  The frog rolled his eyes. “What nonsense is this? I assure you, my friend, I existed long before you came along.” He looked down at one of Jack’s footprints. “Your tracks are deep. You eat too much.”

  Jack shook his head and began jogging at an even faster pace but slowed to a brisk step a few hundred feet later. His chest ached, and he couldn’t muster the energy to keep running.

  The frog grinned with contentment at the slower pace. “This is a short shrub. I could easily leap over it, but I choose to go around it. Leaping is very distracting when one is talking, you know. Those bushes are not short; thus, the leaping option is not applicable. Ah, this is a rock. This is another rock. Rock. Rock. Another rock. I find there are numerous rocks on my walks. That rhymes, you know—rocks and walks. I’d not advise you to look below rocks. Snakes, you know.”

  “Do you ever stop talking?”

  “Doy. In what world does a frog-who-walks-and-talks stop talking?”

  They didn’t tread much farther before Jack came across two sets of footprints that matched the depth of his own. He darted to them and bent down for a closer look.

  “Ha ha! They’re okay! They escaped.” The tracks led off the trail into a meadow and then over the crest of a nearby hill, into the thick lodgepole pine forest.

  “Your friends didn’t care to wait for you, I see. I don’t recommend wandering off the trail as your friends have. Mountain lions, you know. Shall we continue on the trail?”

  “They’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

  Jack fixed his eyes on the girls’ footprints and turned off the trail, his legs brushing against tall meadow grass. “I don’t know why they chose to wander off the trail. They must not have known where to look for me.”

  “Surely they assumed you dissipated. Happens every day, you know. As for myself, I only leave the trail when there’s danger in my path.”

  Katie stopped at an embankment that overlooked a narrow, gurgling stream sandwiched between rocky soil dotted with tufts of green grass. She searched for crows on the pine-filled horizon, glancing up at the yellowish-gray sky and noting how depressed it made her feel.

  “Keep moving,” Avard said.

  Katie winced at the jab of Avard’s gun between her shoulder blades. “Stop it! We’re doing what you asked!” She waited for Clara to hop down from the embankment, then stepped down herself and reached for the bare branch of a fallen lodgepole. She gasped when the branch crumbled in her hand, forcing her to grab onto Clara to regain her balance. Her feet splashed in the stream and she laughed with Clara at the unexpected airy sensation.

  “The water feels like cold fog from a dry ice machine,” Katie said.

  “But it looks just like normal water!” Clara bent down and filled her cupped hands with water, letting it trickle through her fingers.

  “I said keep moving!” Avard jumped from the bank and shoved Clara, forcing her to stand up. He then turned to Katie. “Don’t think I won’t shoot you.”

  “It won’t matter if you shoot us,” Katie said. “You can’t hurt us here.”

  “You don’t know a thing about this place! Let me assure you, miss, bullets still hurt like a bear, and if you be ghosts, I know exactly how to obliterate you. You uppity kids think you know everything, but yer father didn’t tell you nothing. He was always one of the few Intershroud big shots I could stand, but I’m dead now and I won’t let nothing stand between me and my revenge. So, you best just stop protectin’ yer little buddy and tell me where he went. Then I’ll let you go.”

  “I told you, we don’t know what happened to him! He’s probably hurt. The ground just lifted him up and took him away. I kept expecting it to do the same to us.”

  “The mountain took him away cause he’s a durned fool! He kept breaking chunks of stone off its walls until it had enough and spit him out. But that don’t mean he’s dead. I won’t rest ’til I see his rotting body. I’ll hold on ’til the end of time if that’s what it takes. It’s just a matter of time, so you might as well tell me where he is!”

  “We don’t know!” Katie shouted.

  “Then keep moving. I figure them Ghost Knights’ll help me if you can’t.” He waved his gun, signaling her and Clara to continue forward. Katie crossed the stream and helped Clara climb up the embankment on the other side. Together, they climbed up a low hill covered in tall green grass.

  Clara looked at Avard. “Why are there medieval knights riding around in the middle of Montana?”

  “Good gravy kid, would you want to stay in one location for five centuries? Some of them Ghost Knights is five hundred, maybe even a thousand years old. They’s ghosts who lost their chance for revenge. They was robbed of the opportunity in their own day, so they been roaming the world for centuries, helping other ghosts get their revenge. That’s what I’m gonna ask them to do for me.”

  “They looked so terrifying,” Clara said.

  “They look how they choose to look, a form that inspires fear and matches the darkness of their hearts.”

  Katie altered her path around a low cluster of scrub oak and stopped to wait for Clara to catch up. “What’s the point in wasting away centuries of time, fixated on something someone did to them centuries ago? They’re stupid to be so obsessed with revenge.”

  “What do you know about it? It’s easy fer you to criticize them when nobody’s robbed you of yer life! Imagine if you was me, just following orders, chasing down foolish teenagers hiding in a dangerous old mine, and one of them starts waving fire next to some explosives. You try to steal it away from the durn fool, and he shoves yer head against a rock and knocks you out cold. You find yersel
f dreamin’, wondering what just happened, ’til you sense yer life draining away. Yer standing there terrified, knowing yer livin’ body ain’t there no more. It’s gone. You feel the desperation of yer soul, struggling to pass on to the next life.

  “Except, then you remember the explosives. You remember the little punk with the fire. You realize he set off them explosives. He killed you! He killed you in cold blood! It fills yer whole being with rage. How dare he kill me! How dare he take my life! I mustered up all the force of my being to yank my soul into this world, to keep myself alive long enough to get my revenge.

  “That’s what it was like for them Ghost Knights. Vengeance is their only reason for existing. They lived too long to satisfy their hunger, but it ain’t too late for me. I’ll have justice!”

  Katie trembled at the hatred in his eyes. “How do know all this? You act like you’ve been here before, like you’ve died before.”

  “Course I ain’t never died before! You don’t gotta die to come here. What do you think the Intershroud’s all about? They teach you all you need to know about this place. Can’t say I like their methods, but Intershroud done learned me things most people never imagined could be true. Had you stuck with the program, you’d be knowing how to deal with ghosts and nightmares, too.”

  Katie felt too confused to seek anymore answers. She continued up the hill, tall lodgepoles rising into her view with each step. She soon reached the top and surveyed a shallow valley of pines interspersed with open, yellow meadows. Three deer bowed their heads in a distant field, feeding amidst the trees.

  “I don’t see anyone,” Katie said. “This is pointless. We have no idea where Jack went, and you don’t need us to find him. We’re all ghosts anyway. What does it matter? You can’t kill people who are already dead.”

  Avard stepped up to the hilltop and searched the valley, then looked at Katie. “I’m not so sure you is dead. You sure don’t seem bent on vengeance.”

  Clara looked at Avard. “But, there was an explosion. We couldn’t have survived.”

  Avard shook his head. “I admit, I’m confused myself. Most ghosts don’t never go far from their haunts. When they pull their soul into this world, they create a door between this place and the material world. I know a lot about it, on account of Intershroud sent me on a lot of missions to make deals with them, back in the day. Lynch was always experimenting with their haunts, trying to transfer things into the material world.

  “It got easier when we came across some of them Ghost Knights. Them guys found ways to abandon their haunts, and they teach their tricks to other ghosts. So, we was able to use their abandoned haunts. I don’t think I made a haunt when I died, though. My guess is, it’s ’cause there was already a ghost haunting there.”

  “What do you mean?” Katie looked Avard in the eyes. “What ghost?”

  He looked at her with a confused expression on his face. “You don’t know? That rubble back in the mine, it was caused by an explosion years ago, a few weeks before Camp Farley opened. That rubble is where yer sister died.”

  A cool breeze brushed through the evergreens, carrying a subtle, but pleasant, scent.

  “Ah, the aroma of pine. Delightful, don’t you think?” The frog stood in Jack’s path and stared up at him.

  “Sure. Whatever.” Jack barely heard what the frog had said. “That’s strange.”

  “What? Pine? I cannot say I agree with you, my friend. The scent of pine is common in these parts. Nothing strange about it.”

  “No, I mean the tracks. Look at them.”

  The frog hopped to a set of impressions in a patch of dirt on the path and squatted, his bulging eyes hovering an inch from the ground. “I see what you mean. They’re wearing shoes.” The frog looked up and grinned. “Why anyone would do that is beyond me.”

  “No, dummy, don’t you see? There’re three sets of tracks and two of them are a lot deeper than the other. Someone’s with them.”

  “Or perhaps the light-footed one was chasing them. Happens to me all the time.”

  “The lighter ones overlap the others, and they’re a man’s shoes. We need to find them, fast.” Jack eased around the frog and walked at a quick pace, the frog either walking or hopping beside him.

  “Now this is a nice round stone.” The frog hopped over it. “Whoa, almost walked into this sapling here. Fine tree that will make some day. Ah, here is a twig. Rather resembles my walking stick, don’t you think?”

  “You don’t have to talk every single second of the day, in case you don’t know.”

  “Yes, but why confine one’s adventures to the prison of one’s own mind when one could so easily share them and bring delight to one’s companions? Whoops! Must mind my feet. Almost collided with that clump of grass.”

  “‘Bringing delight,’ so that’s what you’re doing?”

  “No need to thank me. Goes straight to my head, you know.”

  Jack wagged his head. He stopped at the peak of a low hill to observe the undulating pine tree forest. A yellow warbler darted from a nearby tree and hovered in front of his face, like a hummingbird. Wherever Jack moved his gaze, the bird darted back into view. “Knock it off!” He swiped at it several times, but it always fluttered out of the way.

  “It wants you to look at it,” the frog said. He leaned his flimsy hand against Jack’s leg and panted. “It’s an attention hog, if you ask me.”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  The little bird chanced a brief glance at the frog just as Jack made a final effort to swat it away. He hardly felt its fragile body disappear against his swinging palm. Jack frowned and looked at his empty hand, then took a step back to avoid a sudden swarm of yellow birds scattering from the pines all around him. The frog moved in front of Jack and slowly shook his head, his arms folded.

  “I wasn’t trying to hurt it,” Jack said.

  The frog rolled his eyes. “Of course not. One never means to hurt something when one crushes it to oblivion with a swipe of one’s fast-moving fist.”

  Jack looked away and attempted to rest against the white trunk of an already-leaning ash tree, but instead it tipped over and its roots ripped from the ground, tossing clods of wet soil everywhere. Jack jumped aside and stared at the toppled tree, confused and afraid. He turned his gaze toward the frog. “Tell me what is going on! Why am I having all these hallucinations? None of this is real. Frogs don’t talk. Birds don’t vanish, and I’m not strong enough to topple a tree. I feel like I’m dreaming, but I know I’m awake. What’s happening?”

  The frog just stared at Jack, its eyes bulging and its wide mouth hanging open.

  “Oh, I see. Now that I actually want you to tell me something, you’re speechless.”

  The little frog frowned. “No need to insult me. If I understand you correctly, you’re saying nothing that is happening is really happening. By your most-unique mode of reasoning, therefore, what’s happening is nothing. Am I right?”

  Jack shook his head. “You’re worthless. Let’s get going.” He started off again and the frog hopped after him. He glanced down at the frog. “Can’t you tell me anything?”

  “Indeed, I can. I’m most adept at telling people things. You’re here. This is mountain-with-many-trees.”

  “And you’re frog-with-no-clue. You aren’t getting it. Here’s a few theories I’ve worked out. Someone transported me to another planet, and you’re some weird alien sent to test me.”

  The frog nodded. “Ah, yes, that makes sense to me. That’s it.”

  “I don’t know.” Jack shook his head. “Another planet wouldn’t look just like Flathead Forest. I recognize Ingalls Mountain over there to the west, and Ashley Mountain south of it. Maybe I slipped through a portal into a parallel dimension.”

  “Definitely.” The frog nodded. “No doubt in my mind, that’s the only sensible explanation.”

  Jack ducked below a low branch, then shook his head. “Nah, I’m not convinced. I don’t care what science says, there can’t be a dimens
ion where frogs walk around talking. This doesn’t even qualify as science fiction.”

  “True, true. ’Tisn’t wise to lend much credence to scientific mumbo jumbo. Parallel dimensions, indeed. Pure blather, preposterous drivel.”

  Jack took a deep breath. He could no longer ignore the only explanation that made any sense. He stopped and sat on a toppled tree trunk, tensing at the sound of the rotted wood cracking and sinking a little under his weight.

  “Tell me the truth, Frog. I died, didn’t I? I don’t feel like I’m dead. I’m starving. I’m tired. My feet hurt. But there’s no other explanation.” He slapped his pocket, hoping he’d find his lighter there, but there would be no flickering flame to comfort him today.

  The frog stood in front of him and leaned on his walking stick, a contemplative expression on his moist amphibious face. He nodded his head. “Yes, I believe you’ve hit the nail on the head this time, my friend. You’re most certainly dead. Dreadfully unfortunate, to be sure. But what can you do? So, it goes, as they say.”

  Jack stared down at the yellow wildflowers around his feet and frowned. “It’s not me I’m worried about. I shouldn’t have lit that fire around those explosives. I’m paying the price for my stupidity. And I took Clara and Katie with me. I killed them. They’ll never forgive me.” He pressed his face into his hands and surrendered to his emotions.

  After a few moments of silence from the frog, it spoke. “We must run. Something is coming.”

  Jack waved him off. “Go ahead. I don’t care anymore. I’m dead. They can’t do anything to me now.”

  “Gah! You humans have no survival instincts. No wonder you’re dead. I must go.” The frog dropped its stick and hopped away at lightning speed, making for the shadows among nearby scrub oaks.