The Haunted Traveler December 2017 Edition

was driving for hours without a break today, and I’m exhausted.”
Gideon nodded with an understanding that showed through the beard and shades.
“To never feel the joy of remaining still, I say is a curse,” he attested.
“Exactly,” Scott agreed. “Truth be told, this is my first business trip, and I’m totally in
over my head. I even let my phone die. I mean, that’s not me. I don’t do that. And now
my boss is probably calling right now, asking if the contract’s signed. So yeah, thanks
again. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t stop.”
Ax barked its loudest bark yet.
Gideon scratched under his chin. “He says you say ‘thank you’ too much. You
shouldn’t be so thankful.”
Ax barked again, nearly foaming at the mouth. Gideon again glanced at him in the
rearview mirror. “You sure, buddy?”
Ax answered with his loudest bark yet, a prolonged howl, a demon’s bugle call.
Gideon nodded. “You got it.”
Scott didn’t move a muscle or make a sound. He felt Gideon glance at him, but didn’t
meet the glance and allowed silence to fester. After Ax’s barking, the silence felt nice.
The smell of burnt toast firmly caught in his nostrils, Scott felt his heart thump as he
spotted a flash of green up ahead. As they approached, the headlight showed a highway
sign. His heart stopped.
BRANTLEY, it read at the very top, with NEXT EXIT underneath. About fifty years
behind the sign lay an off-ramp that led into the dark, forested unknown.
Scott didn’t even have time to pretend to feel hopeful as the highway sign and offramp
zipped right by them. Gideon kept the truck on a straight course, his hands locked
on the wheel and his right foot pushing down instead of letting up.
“Hey, I think you missed the exit,” Scott said in the strongest tone he could summon,
nodding back over his shoulder.
Gideon shook his head as if it were nothing.
“Don’t worry, kid,” he said. “You said you wanted to buy some land, right? Well we
have the best plot of land you could hope for.”
Fuck that. Scott’s hand slowly moved closer toward the door handle. Can I jump out?
“Thanks,” Scott replied, “but I’m going to have to ask you to drop me off.”
Gideon shook his head again. “I’m not the one you have to ask.”
Jump out now. Scott grabbed the door handle and pulled, but it didn’t budge. He lost all
feeling, as if his blood stopped flowing. He understood being trapped and outnumbered,
having survived a mugging when he lived in Brooklyn. But he never smelled burnt toast
in that mugging. Scott slowly turned to face the dog.
“Ax…sir,” he started slowly, handling each word like a live grenade, “may I please be
let out?”
Ax replied with his vicious bark.
“He wants to know why you want out,” Gideon interpreted. “After all, if it’s land
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