Ken beamed. Blinking away tears, he watched them disappear into the shadows and waited for the screams to start.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The O’Bannon family—Liam, Connie, and their sons, Connor and Alex—had been looking forward to the Ghost Walk for the last two weeks, ever since they’d heard an ad for it on the radio. At ten and thirteen, respectively, both Connor and Alex were into scary video games and movies. Liam had been the same way as a boy, except that he’d been into horror comic books and movies. He’d never outgrown that infatuation, and he hoped his sons never would either. Connie wasn’t a fan of anything scary—be it comics, video games, movies, or books. She preferred the Lifetime Channel and A&E, and books by Nora Roberts and Nicholas Sparks. The closest she came to horror was the occasional Sherrilyn Kenyon novel. But she was a big fan of her family spending time together, and if this was what it took, then that was okay.
Liam had taken the afternoon off work so that they could arrive early. After sitting in the unexpected traffic jam and finally finding a parking spot, they’d made a beeline for the ticket booth, spying a chance to be among the first in line. While everyone else stopped on the midway, Liam purchased four tickets and they took their places, just inches from the stanchion—with nobody waiting ahead of them. While Liam and the boys held the spot, Connie had gone to a nearby stand and got them slices of pizza and cups of soda. Then they waited patiently for the fun to begin.
The hayride had been fun, if a little too short. So far, it had been Connie’s favorite part of the evening. Liam had put his arm around her when they sat down on a bale. She’d snuggled up against him. He was warm and the evening was chilly. She’d closed her eyes and smiled, remembering how it had been before the boys. Connor and Alex had bounced up and down impatiently, anxious to reach the trail.
And when they did, Connie’s fun ended and the boys’ and Liam’s began. They’d laughed at the various scenic locations along the path—the pterodactyl’s nest, a guillotine, and a reproduction of a windmill from some horror movie that the three of them recognized and Connie didn’t. They’d elbowed each other and shouted in excitement at each stop while Connie recoiled in disgust. Worse was the people in costumes who hid along the trail at random intervals. Some of the costumed monsters jumped out in front of them. Others waited until the O’Bannons had moved past. A man with a chainsaw and a face like a leather sack had chased her twenty yards up the trail while Liam and the boys howled. Somehow, the people hiding along the path seemed to know she was an easy target. Sometimes they acted alone and a few times they had teamed up, trapping the family between them. During one prolonged period of this, Connie had been trapped between Jason Voorhees and Freddy Krueger. She screamed while her husband and children laughed. When it was over, Connie had laughed with them.
It was a good evening.
They just couldn’t believe how dark it had gotten already—so early in the evening.
The O’Bannon family, for the most part, loved monsters and ghosts.
But it was their real-life ghosts that threatened to tear them apart.
When Connie was pregnant with Alex, Liam had cheated on her with a temporary worker from his office. The girl, Tasha, had left two weeks later, assigned to the next job. She’d e-mailed him once since then, to tell him she was pregnant and getting an abortion. He’d responded, but Tasha hadn’t answered. He’d never seen her again—but the guilt remained. Both for what he’d done to Connie and what he’d done to Tasha.
During her final year of college, Connie had been unfortunately saddled with a manic-depressive roommate named Celeste. While Connie enjoyed all that her final year had to offer, Celeste usually sat in the room with the lights turned off, listening to Depeche Mode—or, as Connie called them Depressed Mood—and getting high. Once a week, Celeste would threaten to kill herself, but after a half-dozen false alarms, Connie and her friends chalked it up to cries for attention, and ignored her further threats to do the same. Until the night when Celeste did it. Connie had been going to a party. Celeste had begged her to stay and talk. Said she was feeling low. Connie had left anyway, telling Celeste to just get some sleep. Instead, Celeste had sliced her wrists open, straight down, palm to elbow. She’d bled out on the bathroom floor, her blood congealing on the tiles before anyone found her. Connie had never forgiven herself for not staying. For not listening. For not being a friend.
Even at their young age, Connor and Alex had ghosts, as well.
Two years ago, Connor had shot a bird out of a tree with his BB gun. When he walked up to it, he heard frightened chirping above his head. The bird had been a mother, and her four babies trembled in their nest, cold and hungry and scared. Connor felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t know what to do. The babies wouldn’t stop squawking. So he knocked the nest out of the tree and killed them, too. That night, he hadn’t eaten dinner. His stomach hurt too badly.
Although his family didn’t know it, Alex was a thief. He stole his brother’s toys, change from the jar on top of his father’s dresser, and bills from his mother’s purse. He stole at school, at church, and even last year at summer camp. At his bravest moment, he’d stolen a video game from a neighbor’s yard sale. He liked how it made him feel. Liked the illicit thrill. But late at night, he worried what would happen if he ever got caught.
These were the ghosts they kept from each other—their most private, secret torments. This was what kept them apart, even on nights like this when they thought they were happy and having fun and loved.
Eventually, they entered the maze house. It was pitch-black inside. The boys led the way, stretching out their arms and touching the walls with their fingertips. Connie and Liam followed behind. In the darkness, Liam playfully squeezed her butt. Connie elbowed him in the stomach. They moved slowly, feeling their way along, and hitting many dead ends. Backtracking, they eventually found their way to the center of the building. A flashing strobe light hung from the ceiling. The entire room had been painted in a black and white checkerboard pattern—the floor, all four walls, and the ceiling. As they crossed the room, the O’Bannons marveled at the effect. It appeared as if they were moving in slow motion. It made Connie dizzy. She reached for the wall to steady herself, and noticed that the wall had eyes. And a mouth.
The mouth was grinning.
Shrieking, Connie jumped backward, hiding behind Liam. As they watched, a figure detached from the wall and moved toward them. It was another Ghost Walk volunteer. His clothing had the same checkerboard pattern as the rest of the room. Even his exposed skin—his hands and face—had been painted in the same fashion. Connie smiled in smug satisfaction as the boys and even Liam fled, screaming.
They plunged down another dark hallway, and were back to feeling their way through the impenetrable gloom. Eventually, they reached the maze house’s exit and emerged back into the night. This part of the trail had been strung with twinkling orange lights. They reflected off the white lines on each side of the path. After pausing to laugh about their encounter, the family moved along. Behind them, they heard another group screaming as they encountered the checkered man.
