Ghost Walk by Brian Keene

her hand instead.
    There were about a dozen other cars parked in the field. Maria turned off her headlights and got out of the car. The man with the flashlight approached, smiling. As he drew closer, she was able to make out more details. He was in his late thirties or early forties. A few days’ worth of whis kers covered his pale face. His red flannel shirt fit tightly over a middle-aged gut. He also wore a hunting jacket, dirty jeans, and a Mack Truck ball cap. Thin, brown hair jutted out from beneath the hat’s brim.
    “Howdy,” he said, pointing the flashlight at the ground. “You the lady from the paper?”
    Nodding, Maria stuck out her hand. “I sure am. Hi. Maria Nasr.”
    “Pleased to meet you.” He shook her hand.
    “You must be Ken Ripple?”
    “Sorry, no. I’m his friend, Terry Klein. I’m sort of a second-in-command here, I guess.”
    “Oh. Where’s Mr. Ripple?”
    “He’ll be along in a minute. Rudy Snyder, the Winters town fire chief, wanted to inspect some things real quick. He showed up late. Said this was the only time he could do it, and we can’t open up without his blessing.”
    “I see.”
    “So Ken’s with him. He sent me up here to make sure you knew. Shouldn’t be too long.”
    “Okay.” Maria quickly recovered from her initial surprise. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small notebook and pen. “Well, while we’re waiting, since you’re involved with the construction here, would you mind if I asked you a few questions about the Ghost Walk?”
    “I think you’d better wait for Ken. No offense.”
    “None taken. They were just general questions, really. What you think of Ken’s idea and things like that. What people can expect. You know, a chance to talk it up?”
    “Sure, but no thanks. Like I said, you’d better wait for Ken. He’ll do the talking.”
    Maria decided to try changing the conversation. “Do you happen to know if the staff photographer from the newspaper showed up? He was supposed to take some pictures to accompany the feature article.”
    “Yeah, he was here earlier. Took some shots of Ken and a few of the volunteers. Then he walked the trail and took a bunch more. You ask me, he took too many. No way they’ll use all those photographs. Seems like a waste of film—and money.”
    “I guess you don’t care much for the media?”
    “Not really.” His whiskered cheeks turned red. “I’m sorry. Does it show?”
    Maria grinned. “Just a little.”
    “Sorry about that.” Terry shrugged. “It just seems to me like they’re doing our country a disservice. You know? CNN or FOX News, it’s all the same bullshit. None of them really report on anything that matters anymore. There’s no news on the news. They just give screen time to a bunch of talking heads who only further whatever agenda is important to them. They let these clowns in Washington dictate the news, rather than going out and finding it.”
    “Actually, I agree with you. Cable news services are businesses, and these days advertising dollars and ratings come first. But what about the newspapers?”
    Terry laughed. “Shit. Who has time to read the paper these days? I’m lucky if I get a chance to read American Rifleman from cover to cover every month. I don’t bother with the newspapers anymore. Nobody does.”
    Maria was speechless. Part of her wanted to laugh and another part wanted to scream in frustration.
    “And besides,” Terry continued, “you guys are a business, too. You’ve got advertisers, just like the networks. Instead of ratings, you have to worry about circulation.”
    “Perhaps. But I’d like to think we try to do better.”
    Still chuckling, Terry said, “I’ll go and fetch Ken for you. I’d call his cell, but the coverage is shit down there in the woods. You okay waiting here by yourself?”
    “Sure. It’s not Halloween yet. I’ll be fine.” She grinned.
    Terry turned and walked away. Maria leaned against the hood of her car and watched him