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“Don’t worry. I’m too sick to engage in anything carnal. Speaking of being one, you cannot stay inside me, or you’ll sap all my psychic energy, and I’ll black out. I can see you and speak with you outside my body.”

“Will you make a vow to help me return to my loved ones if I release you?”

“I do.”

“Do not leave me here any longer, Archimedes Kee.”

“I promise. Now, please…” I was too queasy to finish that line. Henry pulled back out of me. It felt as if someone was reaching into you, gathering up your guts, and then yanking them out. A shudder ran over me. One of pure relief as the headache began to lessen immediately. The nausea eased. My eyes peeled open slowly to find Henry, ax in hand, standing before me. His aura was incredibly strong despite his length of time as a ghost. He’d been wandering these woods for many, many years. Some wraiths tended to just fizzle out over time from melancholy. This man had taken his sadness and churned it into a buttery paste of determination. Go him.

“Thank you, Henry,” I whispered, my head lolling to the side to rest on Phil’s strong shoulder. The smell of liquor was strong. “Henry is gone. Phil, I’m going to rest for just a second. Henry has sapped my Qi so bad…”

“Okay, rest. I’ll keep the boogeyman away.” That was the last I heard from Phil for a moment. Or ten. Or perhaps thirty. I came awake with a soft moan, for the lingering headache was not easing up much since my boyfriend was singing some silly song right in my ear.

He reeked of liquor. I brought my head up slowly, pleased he’d re-doused us with hidebehind repellent when he broke into another stanza. And not softly either.

“Phil, hey, can you tone it down? I think I’m still suffering psychic drain. What are you singing?”

“Henny the eighth for Henny the ghost,” Phil responded with a tiny giggle. My head came up from his shoulder gingerly so I could get a clear look at him. Even in the shadows of the headlights, he was a stunning man. Also, given how goofily he met my look, he was not exactly sober. “Henny the eight is a lumberjack who jacks lumber.” He tittered. I rolled a shoulder to ease some of the aches of what would surely be a bruise from my impact with the fender then plucked the now empty bottle of baijiu from Phil’s hand. “Phil, tell me you did not just power slam this whole bottle of baijiu!”

“No, goofy Gus. I sprinkled some on us then power slammed the rest after you got ghosted nap. A ghosted nap.” He snorted. “Ghosted. Not like me when my parents turned away from me. Hey! Give that back!” He yanked the bottle from my hand. I let it go. “I deserve to be painless for a change! Don’t judge me!”

“I’m not judging you, baby.” Inside, I kind of was, but externally I wasn’t. “I know it’s been a hard day or two for you, but drinking won’t make your problems go away. They’ll still be there when you’re sober, and you’ll have a killer headache to deal with as well.”

“Don’t care.” He tipped his head back as he dangled the bottle over his open mouth. One lone drizzle followed by a single drop fell into his mouth. Disappointed, his face reminding me of a child denied another cookie, he lobbed the bottle through Henry then belched. “Stupid bottle is empty. Man, this sucks. Why is we even here in the woods?”

“To clear a camp of ghosts,” I answered, gently pushing to my feet, the ground feeling a little spongy as my head spun for a moment. Grabbing the fender, I let the vertigo pass before trying to help my boyfriend to his feet. There was no way I was hoisting his big ass from the ferns and dirt. Whenever I took his hand to tug it, it just slipped free as he mumbled about bottles with no sore gums. For such a big man, my guy was a lightweight. “Phil, baby, we have a ghost here who vows to help us out. All I need for you to do is stand up, and we’ll go find some service, or a cabin, or something to hide in until morning.” I turned to look at Henry. “Does the hidebehind hunt during the day?”

“Hidebehind. Aye, that is what it does. I was taken at dusk when the shadows grow longer. There was still daylight, but it was meager. I have seen it take others. Never in bright sun.”

“Makes sense. Gives it more places to hide.” I turned my attention back to Phil, who was now admiring me with a goofy smile.

“You’re so pretty,” Phil whispered and puckered his lips.

I smooched him quickly. Henry made a sound of distaste but said nothing. Wise spirit. Without me, he was doomed to linger in these woods. Truth be told, he still might, but we’d cross that ghostly logger with an ax later.

“Thanks. You are too. Can you stand for me? I’ll kiss you if you stand up.”

Phil, always up for a cuddle and a kiss, stood up. Giggling madly, he pulled me into his chest and kissed me sloppily. When the kiss ended, he patted my cheek before releasing me. “I’m up! Let’s go find a service cabin. For service. I wish we had a bloodhound. Did you know they can smell things really good?”

He staggered forward, lurched to the side, and then fumbled back to where he had started. This was going to be a long walk back to the main road. Propping my boyfriend against the still-open door of the truck, I gathered our equipment, found a flashlight, and turned it on. I cut the engine, and for some silly reason, locked things up. As if someone were going to come and drive the old gal off. This vehicle was going nowhere, and there was nothing to steal inside the cab unless you were into cold stromboli. Thinking that over, I snapped up the food we’d bought for Klinger to eat later. Jamming it into a Lions duffel, I handed Phil the flashlight while I hoisted bags of cameras, batteries, and clothes onto my shoulders.

“Your beau is corned,” Henry stated. “He should be sobered up. There are cabins within a mile. Easy walking down the road but being in the open is a danger. I was took while chopping down a tree along the logging path we’d cut through with horses and sweat. Never saw nor heard the beast. Seen it take several others over the years since I was took. Mostly men here working or folk passing through before the children arrived. Bad mistake bringing young ones into these dark woods. Easy prey.”

“Easy as a grown man with an ax,” I mumbled under my breath. Phil sniggered. With the headlights now off, it was dark. Not just regular dark. As SpongeBob once said, it was advanced darkness. Phil tripped over to me, took the gear with ease, and then started walking away. “Phil, dude!”

I ran up to him, took him by the arm, and turned to find Henry had already moved ahead of us, long-handled ax on his ghostly shoulder.

“We need to stay together,” I whispered, scanning the thick forest with a bright beam from our flashlight. Nothing. The woods were alive with insects just emerging from long winter sleeps. Tiny scurries of small forest animals could be heard but nothing that sounded like imminent death. “

“Because we love each other,” Phil slurred slightly, looping an arm over my shoulder.

“Yes, that is exactly why.” I steered my boyfriend through the trees to the overgrown road, following Henry deeper into the forest. The chirrup of crickets grew loud then would soften and still when we neared where the tiny insects hid. Keeping Phil from tumbling off the road back into the woods was a full-time job. We rounded a tight bend, saplings with new buds that had grown up in the road slowing us down. Tire lanes were evident as the trees opened up to show us a large redwood arch over a rutted road. Phil and I paused to gaze up at the arch. What were once probably brightly painted letters in sunshine yellow were now pale, sickly mustard. Many were dangling by one screw.

“Arch! Arch! Do you see the name!? The L is gone!! It says Camp Minnow Minge. Minge!” Phil doubled over in glee, laughing heartily. “Minge! Minge. Arch, it says minge!” He howled in mirth. Henry stopped just inside the arch, glaring at us, while I nodded at my man. “Minge. Too funny! Arch, do you know what minge means?!”

“I do,” I said, wishing the senator could see this. Being spiteful about how this outing was going, I shined the light on the sign, dug out my phone, and took a picture. Another beam joined the one from my flashlight. Looking to the left, Phil had his camera out and resting on his shoulder. His beam wavered terribly. Well, the senator wanted this escapade filmed. Guess he was getting his wish, not that he probably always didn’t get his way. Rich people generally did.

“Hey, Dad, you have minge on your signage! That’s a word that means vagina. What do you think of that, Dad? Vagina signs are so funny because you’re a bigoted ass. Oh shit, my light went wonky. I tripped over my own—ack!”