Cecil desperately tried to call for help, but could only wheeze. The forest seemed to spin and his heartbeat was very loud in his ears. Sam grabbed his wrist, hard. The boy’s fingers felt like burning ice.
“Want to see your brother again, Cecil?” Sam asked him. “Come along. We’ll show him to you. But first, you’ll have to do something for us.”
“I feel better,” Maria said. “Seriously, you can let go now. I’m fine.”
Levi released her hand. He’d been pinching the skin between the thumb and index finger on her right hand.
“Are you still light-headed?”
“No. Honestly, I’m okay. Just sweaty and thirsty. My senses are coming back again. Whatever you did, it worked. What was that anyway? Acupressure?”
He nodded. “Something like that. It wasn’t magic, though, if that’s what you’re thinking. A lot of what I do—a lot of powwow in general—has no basis in magical theory and discipline. It’s just herbs and prayer.”
“But you’re not just practicing powwow. You admitted as much yourself.”
“No,” Levi admitted. “I’m not. Some of the places the Lord has led me over the years—well, let’s just say that powwow wouldn’t have been effective. I’ve had to use other methods.”
“But doesn’t that fly in the face of God?”
“Not if I’m using those methods to further His will.”
They were sitting in Levi’s buggy, which was still positioned at the rear of the parking lot. He’d led Maria there after she regained consciousness, so that she could lay down. Her car didn’t have enough space for that, and despite the time of year, it had been hot and stifling inside the vehicle. The buggy sat beneath several trees, and it was better for her to be in the shade rather than the sun. Maria laid down on the long, wide bench at the front of the buggy. Once he’d gotten her situated, Levi crossed the street to the local gas station, bought her a bottle of water, and then hurried back. While Maria sipped the water, he’d applied slight pressure to her hand until her dizziness and nausea passed.
“Do you…” he hesitated. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“I don’t know,” Maria admitted. “I mean, it’s not every day that you hear…whatever that was.”
“Oh, God—or Allah, as you think of Him—speaks to us every day. We just don’t listen.”
“But not like this.”
“No,” Levi agreed. “Not like this. Not in a long time. These days, there are no burning bushes or voices from the mountaintop.”
Maria breathed a heavy sigh. “Part of me still thinks it was a trick. Maybe you got to my recorder earlier or something—except I know that’s not true.”
“I promise you that I did nothing of the sort.”
“And part of me believes it really happened. That G…” She paused. “That
whoever
…somebody left a message.”
“I can’t sway your belief one way or the other, Maria. All I ask is that you believe what I’ve told you. For anything other than that, you’ll have to look to your own heart.”
“Listen, I’m sorry about my behavior earlier. I don’t think you’re some psycho killer or Amish rapist or anything like that. At least, not anymore. And yes, some things have happened that I can’t explain. But I just don’t know what to think yet. I’m overwhelmed and exhausted. I got no sleep last night. I was already in a bad mood and then all this…this
weirdness
started up. I just need to chill for a bit. I need to take a step back and think about things. I can’t just totally, one hundred percent accept on blind faith that Allah spoke to me through my voice recorder. I want to. I really do. But I need to think about it more. Call it my journalistic side.”
“Fair enough.”
“But I do want to help you. I just don’t know what you need from me.”
“Simply having you involved is enough. Certain numbers have power. Six and seven. Nine. Twelve and thirteen. Twenty-two. Six hundred and sixty-seven, the number of the Beast.”
“I thought it was six-six-six?”
“No, that was another thing scholars got wrong.”
“Lost in translation, huh?”
“Something like that. But there
is
power in numbers. Twelve disciples, for example. Jesus picked twelve for a reason. Or consider the universal belief in the unluckiness associated with the number thirteen, regardless of the culture. Three is considered a very lucky number. Not as powerful as seven, but still very good.”
“How is three a lucky number? There weren’t three disciples.”
“No, but there were three Stooges. No cosmic evil could stand against Moe, Larry and the original Curly.”
It took Maria a moment to realize that he was joking. They both chuckled.
“You, me, and Adam Senft make three,” Levi said. “Those are good odds.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.” He took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Thank you for helping me, Maria.”
She returned the gesture and then he released her hand.
“But let’s be honest,” Maria said. “Helping you is helping myself. We both want to talk to Adam Senft and neither of us has time to go through the official channels. So my reason for helping you make that happen isn’t exactly charitable.”
“Nevertheless, it is still appreciated.”
At the front of the buggy, Dee whinnied.
Levi smiled. “And Dee appreciates it, too.”
“She’s a beautiful horse. Have you had her long?”
“Since she was a foal. She comes from an old line. Her family has aided my family for a very long time. She’s my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
Dee snorted and then looked away. Her tail flicked back and forth in agitation.
“And she never lets me forget it,” Levi said.
“I always wanted a horse when I was a little girl.”
“Your parents wouldn’t buy you one?”
“We lived in the Jersey suburbs. There was nowhere to keep one.”
“I can’t imagine growing up like that, with no livestock or wide-open fields to play in.”
“Yeah. It’s definitely two different worlds. Do you have any other animals?”
He nodded. “An old hound dog named Crowley.”
“Crowley and Dee—odd names. How did you come up with them?”
He hesitated before answering. “I named them after Aleister Crowley and John Dee.”
“Oh.” Maria nodded in affirmation, but privately, she wondered who they were. She vaguely recognized the names, but that was all. She didn’t want to appear stupid, so she tried to change the subject. She held out her water bottle. “You want a sip?”
“No thank you,” he declined, waving his hand. “As I said, I’m fasting. I can drink water, but only at specific times. So I’ll have to wait.”
“Must be tough.”
“It is.”
They sat in silence for a moment. While Maria finished her water, Levi bowed his head, folded his hands in his lap, and closed his eyes. His breathing grew shallow. She wasn’t sure if he was praying or just resting, but decided not to disturb him in either case. Instead, to occupy herself, she looked around the buggy’s floor. It was messy. Levi had road maps, emergency flares, a flashlight, assorted wrenches and screwdrivers, a pack of tissues, and even an empty soda cup from a fast-food restaurant. The buggy contained everything a regular vehicle would have. She considered this. Levi had said he was no longer Amish, so it shouldn’t be that surprising, and yet, Maria couldn’t help but be amazed. She was surrounded by hints of normalcy from someone who was anything but normal. She was no longer wary of him. She’d been honest with him about that. He wasn’t crazy, at least, not in a violent, harmful way. She liked to think she had a pretty good sense for such things. Eccentric, certainly, but not crazy. The buggy’s interior seemed to reinforce that.
A car pulled into the parking lot and drove slowly past them. The driver glanced their way. His gaze lingered on them for a moment. Then he drove on, finding an empty space several rows away. She saw brake lights flash. A moment later, the driver got out of the car and pointed his key ring at it. The car’s alarm system chirped. The man looked at the buggy one more time and then walked toward the building.
For a few seconds, Maria felt paranoid. The driver had seemed awfully interested in them. Technically, she was trespassing. The parking lot was private property, and she’d been asked to leave by the staff. How would she explain her presence here, if discovered? But after she’d thought about it, she decided her fears were unjustified. The guy was probably just looking at Dee. Or maybe he’d recently moved to Central Pennsylvania from Mary land, as had thousands of other residents seeking a break from higher taxes. He might be unaccustomed to seeing an Amish buggy. After all, they were far less common in York than they were in Lancaster.
Before she could consider it more, Levi opened his eyes and sat up straight. Maria drained the last drop of water from her bottle.
“All set?” he asked.
She nodded. “I feel much better, thanks. Where should I put this bottle?”
“Just throw it in the back. I’ll get rid of it later.”
She tossed it over her shoulder and turned back to him. “So, what do we do now?”
“Well, first of all, we should probably get out of here before we attract attention.”
He grabbed the reins and flicked them. Dee trotted forward on command. The buggy started to roll.
“Where are we going?” Maria asked.
“I’ve got to get a few things. If you want to catch a nap or get something to eat, now would be a good time. We’ve got several hours to kill.”
He pulled alongside her car. “You should probably move your car, as well.”
“What’s the plan?”
Levi shrugged. “Like I said, you’ve got some free time. I’ve got to go home and retrieve a few things we’ll need. We’ll meet back here after dark. See that line of trees behind the hospital?”
Maria nodded.
“We’ll meet there,” Levi said. “Let’s say ten o’clock. It should be dark enough by then.”
“It’ll be dark by six or seven.”
“But the facility will have quieted down by ten, as well. The night shift will be on hand.”
“Okay. And then what?”
“Then, we meet with Adam Senft.”
“But how?”
“Simple,” he said. “We just open the door and let him walk through it.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Russ and Tina Farnsworth finished lashing together a stack of dried cornstalks and then stood back to admire their handiwork. The air was cool in the shade between the trees, but their clothes were soaked with sweat. They’d worked hard all morning on last-minute preparations. The visit from the police, and the subsequent delay while they were questioned, had set their schedule back an hour, and now they rushed to complete everything.
“I wish some of the others would get here,” Russ complained. “Seems like we’re doing all the work.”
“Wait until tonight,” Tina said, wiping her hands on her jeans. “We’ll take a break while everyone else busts their ass. We’ve earned it.”
“Yeah.” Russ fished a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and lit up. “Still, it seems quiet today. Hard to believe tomorrow is opening night.”
“I know.”
“Wonder what happened with those kids?”
“Rhonda and Sam? They probably just skipped town. Ran away together.”
“Maybe,” Russ said. “Or maybe something else happened to them.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. You see stuff on the news all the time. Boyfriend kills the girlfriend, buries her in the woods, and then tries to run. Like that Scott Peterson guy.”
“You think Sam killed Rhonda? I don’t know, Russ. Isn’t that a little far-fetched? I mean, sure, he had some anger issues. We saw that here, while he was working. He could be hotheaded and arrogant, and sometimes he was belligerent to Ken and Terry, but that doesn’t make him a killer. I never heard that he beat her or anything like that.”
“Yeah, but who really knows these days? Look at all those people that got murdered right here in these woods a few years ago.”
“They were a witch cult, Russ.”
“Well, still. You wait and see. I bet you she’s buried right out here in these woods.”
“Terry said that Ken saw her leave last night, you dork. They found Sam’s car in a grocery store parking lot across the river.”
“You never know, Tina.” He took a deep drag off his cigarette and smiled. “You just never know.”
“I know one thing,” Tina said. “You promised me you’d quit those things.”
“Don’t start that again. I’m going to. On New Year’s day.”
“That’s three months from now.”
“Well, I can’t just quit cold turkey. Got to wean myself off them.”
Grinning, she playfully smacked him. He reached around and tapped her ass.
“Love you,” Russ said.
“I love you, too.”
Russ and Tina had been married for twenty-eight years. Graduating the same year but from rival high schools, they’d met in Ocean City, Maryland, during Senior Weekend and had been together ever since. They’d had two wonderful children together, owned a nice home nestled deep in a secluded valley in Red Lion, and had no major debt. They stayed involved with their community. Decorated their house for Christmas and Halloween. Kept their lawn mowed. Were kind to their neighbors. Bought Girl Scout cookies every year. Life was perfect. They were happy and still in love. They shared everything.
Still, they had their ghosts, unknown to each other.
When her mother was in the final stages of Alzheimer’s disease, Tina had faced a tough decision. The assisted care home her mother was in was expensive, and her mother’s money had run out. Russ and Tina didn’t have the funds to keep her there, not even with a second mortgage. Although her mother’s mind was gone, her body was still in fine shape. The doctors said she might live for several more years. Tina cried as she pressed the pillow over her mother’s face and held it there. She did it with love. When her mother was gone, she leaned over and gently kissed her cheek one last time.
Russ had a gambling addiction, bordering on obsession. There were weekend trips to Atlantic City, long hours spent at the off track betting parlor on Route 30, and many late nights spent online at various gambling sites. The problem—and his debts—both grew to enormous proportions. He’d eventually broken free, put it behind him after months of secretive counseling without Tina or his family’s knowledge. But he had to hit bottom before he got the help—bottom being burglarizing his own home and pawning Tina’s jewelry, including her great-grandmother’s diamond ring, just to satisfy his debts. He’d called the police and reported it as a break-in. Russ had watched enough cop shows to know how to make it look like a real robbery. The regional cops never suspected otherwise. But when Russ saw the pain that he’d caused his wife, and the fears he’d stoked in his family—fears that their home was no longer safe—he’d shed the habit once and for all. Sadly, shedding the guilt was much more difficult.
Hand in hand, they double-checked the cornstalks one more time.
“Perfect,” Russ said. “No way will people see behind them as they walk down through here.”
“Whose hiding place is this?”
“Doug’s. He’s going to be dressed as a werewolf. He’ll hide here and let folks walk by, unchallenged. Then, Shane’s going to be hiding a little way up the trail. Doug will creep out behind the last person in the group and follow them. Then, when Shane jumps out, Doug will scare them from the rear. It’s gonna be—”
Tina held up her hand, abruptly silencing him. Frowning, she tilted her head and listened.
“What’s wrong?” Russ asked.
“I heard something.”
“Russ? Tina? Somebody help me!”
Tina gasped. “That sounds like Rhonda!”
“Come on,” Russ urged. Still clasping her hand, he led Tina forward, off the trail and into the woods. Their quick pace turned into a run as Rhonda called out for them again. Low-hanging branches tugged at their clothes, and Russ almost tripped over a root jutting from the soil. They followed Rhonda’s shouts until they found her.
“Jesus,” Russ breathed. “She doesn’t look very good.”
Rhonda leaned against a tree. Her clothes were tattered and dirty. Her face and hands were caked with mud. Dried blood covered one cheek, directly beneath a shallow, untreated cut. The most shocking aspect of her appearance, however, was the tremendous amount of weight that she’d apparently lost in the last twelve hours. Her arms and legs were rail-thin. The flesh hung off them like sallow curtains. Her face was sunken. Much of her hair was missing, revealing raw, glistening red patches on her scalp.
Then she raised her head and they glimpsed her eyes: two black holes full of swirling darkness.
“Rhonda!” Tina ran to the sickened girl. “Are you okay, honey? What’s wrong?”
“I need help.”
“It will be okay,” Tina soothed, stepping closer. “Just calm down.”
“I’m glad you both found me. Is there anyone else with you?”
“No,” Russ said. “It’s just us. Everyone else is up in the field. What’s wrong with you, Rhonda? You look like you’ve been exposed to radiation or something.”
“Russ,” Tina snapped, glaring at him.
“I need help,” Rhonda repeated.
“We’ll get you some help,” Russ promised. “Can you tell us where Sam is? Do you know?”
Rhonda smiled. “Sure. I can tell you where he is. He’s right behind you.”
“What?”
Russ turned in time to see Sam and a man he didn’t recognize step out from behind a tree. Both men were obviously suffering from whatever malady Rhonda had. The stranger was especially gaunt, almost skeletal. Their eyes were like Rhonda’s. Russ held up his hands as the man pointed a deer rifle at him. Sam clutched a machete. Russ recognized the weapon. It belonged to Cecil Smeltzer, one of the volunteers for the Ghost Walk. The old man had been using it to cut undergrowth earlier this morning, between nursing cups of coffee. Russ suddenly realized that he hadn’t seen the old veteran since shortly after the cop had left.
“Hello, Russ,” Sam said.
Russ struggled to keep the alarm out of his voice. “What the hell’s going on here?”
Behind him, Tina whimpered. Russ whipped around again. Tina cowered against a tree trunk, flanked by Rhonda and Cecil. But that wasn’t what had her terrified. It was the coyote that stood in front of her, legs spread, haunches rigid, teeth bared. A low growl emanated from its chest. It turned briefly and glanced at Russ. The beast’s eyes were black, just like those of the humans. Although it wasn’t emaciated like the others, some of its fur was missing.
“Russ,” Tina sobbed. “Do something.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Russ whispered.
“No,” Cecil said. “Not even close.”
The old man’s eyes were black, but physically, he was in much better shape than the others.
“Cecil,” Russ pleaded, “that’s a coyote.”
“Once. Now it is us. Soon, you will be, too.”
“Come with us,” Rhonda commanded. “If you scream or try to run, Rich will shoot you.”
The coyote backed away, allowing Tina to step forward. She stumbled away from the tree, swooning. Russ hurried to catch her. They sank to their knees on the forest floor.
“What’s this all about?” Russ demanded. “This is crazy!”
“We need your help,” Rhonda explained, her voice calm.
“Help? What kind of help?”
Sam ran his thumb along the machete’s edge, drawing a thin bead of blood. He smiled as the blade parted flesh.
“We need you to move some rocks,” he said. “That’s all.”
Blood dribbled down the blade. Russ was mesmerized by it.
“Now get up.” The stranger, Rich, motioned with the rifle. “Follow us. We don’t have far to go.”
Russ got up and pulled Tina to her feet.
“Or what?” he challenged.
“Or we’ll kill you right here. The roots of this forest have drank much blood over the years. Yours will just be the latest to feed them.”
Ken pulled alongside one of the storage trailers that were parked at the edge of the field. He left the truck on while he got out to open the trailer door. The engine idled choppily. Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson rumbled from the truck’s speakers, singing about a good-hearted woman in love with a good-timing man. Ken had been a metal-head when he was in school, but as he got older, he found himself gravitating more toward the country music of the seventies. Listening to it reminded him of when he’d been a kid. His father had always liked Willie and Waylon, along with the other outlaws, Johnny Cash and Kris Kristofferson.
The song drifted across the field and into the forest. If anyone heard it, there was no indication. There were other cars parked near the entrance to the Ghost Walk: Russ and Tina’s SUV, Tom’s Dodge Charger, Cecil’s old pickup truck, and Terry’s Jeep. Jorge’s truck was absent. Ken swore, wondering if Jorge had made it back with the bags of lime he’d sent him for that morning. But despite the vehicles, there were no signs of activity. The forest was silent.
Ken checked his watch. He had two more hours before the other volunteers arrived for the walk-through and staff meeting—and a shitload of things to do before then.
Grumbling to himself, he began unloading the costumes and masks, putting them inside the trailer. The interior was full of items for the Ghost Walk: gas generators, extension cords, lights, tools, spools of rope and wire, plastic sheeting, landscape fencing, dry erase boards and markers, propane bottles, and numerous other odds and ends. He cleared a space for the costume boxes and sat them down. Finished, he exited the trailer and locked the door behind him. Waylon was now asking, “Are you sure Hank done it this way?”
Ken started to hum along, but his song turned to a shout when a hand fell on his shoulder. He spun around, fists raised, and almost punched Terry in the face.
“Jesus Christ,” Terry laughed, scampering backward. “Didn’t you hear me calling for you?”
“I didn’t hear shit,” Ken said.
“That’s because you play this honky-tonk bullshit too loud, man. Hell, Ken, you’re worse than my kid.”
“Your kid likes country music?”
“No. But he drives around with that rap music playing loud enough to shake the goddamn windows.”
Ken turned his truck off and shut the door. “Better?”
“Much. My ear drums thank you.”
“So where is everybody? Jorge make it back with that lime?”
“Yeah. We got it spread. Then him and Tom took off to get something to eat before the staff meeting. They took Jorge’s truck.”
“Where’s Tina and Russ and Cecil?”
Terry shrugged. “Don’t know. Tom was working with Cecil for a bit. And Russ and Tina were way back in the woods, near the spot where the trail loops around and starts heading back up here. I haven’t seen them for a while. Probably still down there.”
“I wish cell phone coverage worked down here,” Ken complained, not for the first time. “It would be a lot easier if we could communicate with walkie-talkies or something.”
Terry grinned. “Ken, do me a favor?”
“What’s that?”
“Take a deep breath and calm the fuck down. You’re worrying about everything, and you don’t need to. It’s fine. This is gonna go off without a hitch. Russ and Tina and even old Cecil are good people and hard workers. If they’re not here, then that means they’re busting their ass somewhere along the trail.”
“I know,” Ken agreed. “You’re right. It’s just…I’ve got this feeling. Like something is going to go wrong.”
“That’s just the jitters. Only thing that’s going to happen is we’re going to make a lot of money for charity starting tomorrow night.”
“Let’s hope so. Speaking of which…” Ken climbed back into his truck and grabbed a stack of newspapers. He exited the vehicle, smiling proudly. “Check it out.”
“That the article?” Terry took a copy from Ken and flipped it open.
“Front page of the local section, and then it continues on page four. And they’ve got a photo on the front page of the main section, too.”
Terry whistled. “Nice! And look there—she mentioned my name, too.”
“Yeah,” Ken replied, his tone dry. “Seeing your name in there will really sell tickets.”
“Fuck off.”
Laughing, they walked toward the entrance to the trail.
“I think we’ll have everybody gather right here,” Ken said. “That way, everybody can hear me. Then we’ll do the walkthrough.” He glanced up at the sky, and then added, “Might have to do it by flashlight. It’s getting darker already. Weird.”