It was a decent sized group of people who were clustered together beside the trailhead in the pre-dawn. All around them were dense pine forests and towering above them were high mountains that rose and disappeared into the clouds. Everyone wore thick coats and gloves against the winter chill. The more experienced among them also wore hats and snow pants. Puffs of warm breath rose above them all but never remained long. A few people in the waiting crowd stamped their feet periodically to keep the cold from seeping up through their shoes. The guides walked among them, handing out itineraries and hiking packs. No one spoke much.

“Alright,” Seran, the lead guide, called out once the last set of gear was unloaded from the bus they’d rode in. “Your itinerary should tell you which group you’ve been assigned to. It’s all color coded to match your guides coat so if your itinerary is blue, just look for the guide in the blue coat.”

Seran gave them all a moment to look down at their itinerary and then back up to where the guides were all standing. She’d run these Ghost Walks long enough that the pauses were second nature to her now.

“You’ll need to stay with your guide since each group will be going to a different campsite. If you get mixed up, don’t worry, we’re not that far apart from one another and we can get you all sorted out if needed but that will mean you might miss out on some of the activities while we get you to where you need to be.”

Orientation was both the least exciting part of the whole trip as well as the most important. There was always a few people who wouldn’t pay attention and then wind up in some sort of trouble, though rarely was it anything serious. As she gave her usual run down of Do’s and Don’t’s, Seran kept a careful eye out for anyone who looked as though they weren’t listening so she could draw them back into the orientation.

“Remember,” Seran said as her speech began to wind down, “we are in the mountains, in winter, on a Ghost Walk. Getting lost, developing frostbite, and a whole bunch of unpleasant things can happen to you if you don’t respect Mother Nature. So stay close to your group, follow your guides instructions, and above all, have a great time!”

Seran and the rest of the guides all gave out a cheer and began clapping which got a number of the tourists to do the same. The next several minutes were busy with people sorting themselves into their groups and adjusting the straps on their packs. Seran moved between the different groups, checking in and making sure everything was running smoothly and as soon as a group was ready she sent them off down the trail.

For the first mile or so everyone kept to the same trail. Then, one by one, the groups split off on one side trail or another. The trails themselves were kept relatively clear of snow, being plowed after each snowfall. There hadn’t been much snow yet this year and so the snowbanks on either side of the trail were barely waist height.

Seran didn’t lead a group and so once the last guide had taken their group down the final branch in the trail, she continued on up the mountain side, towards the lodge where she could oversee the various groups. The guides all had radios and the camps were outfitted with a direct line to the lodge in case their radios weren’t working. Over the course of the following week that they were out there a few activities would be held at the lodge and it was Seran’s job to make sure everything was ready for them.

The lodge itself was a decent sized structure. It had a half dozen bedrooms with rows of bunkbeds so that, in case of prolonged bad weather or some other unexpected event, everyone could take shelter there. The lodge also had a couple of large rooms as well as a decent sized kitchen. Folding tables and chairs filled various closets that were built in strategic locations throughout the lodge for ease of setting up and taking down for events.

The best thing about the lodge, in Seran’s opinion, was the view. The main deck of the lodge looked out over the campsites and she could see the pricks of light that marked each one. On clear days she could see them all going about their activities, whether it was setting up camp or going on hikes. Of course, the real reason people came was for the nightly Ghost Walks.

There were few places as haunted as these mountains. For decades, people had avoided this place because of it but Seran and her business partners had seen an opportunity where others only saw fear. It was funny how people seemed to lose so much of their fear as soon as seeing a ghost was billed as part of the experience. Of course there were risks involved but as long as people stuck to the rules and stayed with their guides they weren’t in any more danger than they would have been during any other camping trip.

Seran and the others had learned early on to ease the people into the Ghost Walks. Go on a short hike the first night, see a couple ghosts, and then go back to camp. Most of the ghosts tended to stay in certain areas and so it wasn’t very hard to avoid the more sensational ghosts those first couple of nights. Once they were acclimated to the silent, drifting ghosts, then the guides would begin leading their groups to the more energetic, more frightening ghosts, capping the week off with the final hike through some of the most terrifying parts of the Ghost Walk.

“Seran,” a voice crackled over the radio, “this is camp six.”

She had been leaning out over the deck railing, watching the activity down below when the call came and she was a bit startled by it. Usually things were quiet that first day.

“Seran here, go ahead camp six.”

“I’ve got a couple here who seem determined to go on a hike this morning, with or without a guide.”

Seran frowned. It wasn’t unheard of for people to want to go out early, or to strike out on their own, but those people usually didn’t speak up until the second or third day, usually because they were bored of the milder hikes and wanted something like a real scare, though sometimes it was because they didn’t think the ghosts were all that scary and simply wanted to go on a hike and enjoy the natural beauty on their own.

“No one goes out without a guide,” Seran stated, not because the guide needed reminding but because she knew the couple who were wanting to go out on their own would be listening in.

“I told them,” the guide replied, “and I can’t just leave everyone else here alone to take these two sight seeing.”

“Agreed,” Seran replied. This was all a well rehearsed conversation that all of the guides knew and kept ready for situations like this. “Once camp is set you could see if everyone else wants to go on a day hike, but otherwise stick to the itinerary.”

There was a pause and Seran waited for the guide to respond. When the radio crackled on next, however, it wasn’t the guide who spoke.

“Look,” the unfamiliar voice said, “I know you have to have your rules and all that, but our tent is up, we’re not interested in the group activities on the itinerary, and we’re more than happy to forego whatever breakfast or lunch you all have planned for us. We’ll be fine with just our granola bars, okay.”

Seran’s frown only deepened. It was against policy for a guide to allow any of the tourists to use the radio unless it was an emergency and judging from the tone in the speakers voice, Seran suspected they had simply taken the radio away from the guide.

“The rules are in place for everyone’s protection,” Seran stated in a controlled voice. “It’s never advisable for guests to venture out on their own. Kindly return the radio to your guide, and understand that if you still choose to go out against our recommendation that you will be in breach of the Code of Conduct form you signed. As such, you will be responsible for yourself and any consequences that come of your actions.”

“Yeah, fine,” was the response.

Seran waited a moment longer and when the radio crackled again it was the guides voice again.

“Sorry about that Seran,” they said.

“It’s fine,” Seran replied. “Take care of the rest of your group.”

“Understood.”

Seran retrieved her binoculars and then began scanning the trails around camp six until she spotted the couple. They appeared to be taking photographs, pointing to things in the trees, and generally acting like they were on just another hiking trail. Unfortunately for them, the trail they’d chosen was one of the few paths that, while still maintained and kept clear of snow, was rarely taken because of the risks involved. Only the most stalwart of groups were ever taken on those trails.

She pulled out her radio once again and twiddled one of the knobs so she would broadcast to all of the radios.

“Guides, be advised there is a fog advisory in effect.”

There wasn’t any actual fog, but Seran and the others had learned early on that they needed a way to communicate certain warnings without worrying the tourists. In the case of a fog advisory, it meant that no one was to leave camp until further notice. Not even if there were calls for help.

She went back to watching the couple as they made their way further along the trail. Soon they would pass out of her sight and disappear into the trees. With luck, they’d be left alone and return to camp in an hour or so feeling smug but otherwise unharmed. There wasn’t much else she could do, though, and so she set an hour timer to remind herself to check in with camp six to see if they had returned or not.

It had been a couple weeks since the last group was up here and so Seran was kept busy cleaning up piles of dead bugs in the windowsills, dusting off the flat surfaces and laying out the rugs, tables, and chairs that would be needed. Each time her hour timer went off she would check in with camp six, and always the reply was the same.

“Still not back, Seran.”

Sunset was always early this time of year and as the sky outside darkened, Seran began to brace herself for the inevitable and uncomfortable conversation she would need to have with the hikers next of kin. No one stayed out in the woods this long, not without things going very badly. Sure enough, as the sun and darkness began to take hold of the foothills, the piercing shrill note of an emergency whistle began to sound. Seran pulled out her radio and once again broadcast her fog advisory to the camps.

Down below, Seran knew the guides would be assuring the tourists that everything was under control, that a search team was out there, and not to worry. They would be staying in camp that night because of the potential fog and also not wanting to get in the way of the search and rescue party.

The whistle blew pretty regularly at first. Then it came every few minutes. By the time it stopped all together it was well past midnight.

“All guides to the lodge,” Seran sent out over the radio.

Within a half an hour, the guides were all gathered. They were quiet but alert as Seran lead them back outside and down the mountain to the trail she’d seen the couple go out on. The few people in camp six who saw Seran and the guides go by asked after the missing couple but Seran just told them to go back into their tents and get some sleep. She assured them that the couple had been found but they hadn’t been able to get them yet. She left it vague since she generally tried to avoid telling outright lies.

She and the guides made their way along the trail, quietly and with practiced steps. The ghosts knew them all by now, and most of them showed something akin to respect for Seran and the guides, letting them pass through without being harassed. The less-trodden paths were a bit riskier, though, since the ghosts had less opportunity to get to know them. However, this night they seemed content with their prize of the two hikers from earlier in the day.

Judging from the whistles, Seran suspected that the couple had made it to a spot known as the lightning tree. It was an old, dead tree, though no one knew if it had ever actually been struck by lightning. It was a massive tree, though, with dozens of thick branches starting down near the base and going all the way up. In the night it had a faint glow about it and if you looked carefully you could see the shadows cast from that light, moving as if there were people sitting in the tree. Most people found the tree to be an oddity and nothing more, but for a select few, it was like a light drawing in insects. They fell into a sort of stupor and would try to climb into its boughs. They’d sit there for hours, days sometimes, before suddenly coming awake in terror. Regardless of their terror, however, they would never climb down from the tree on their own. They’d scream or blow on whistles, all the while slowly fading away until they were nothing more than just another shadow in the tree. Early on Seran had tried to pull people from the tree but no amount of earthly strength could ever pry them off the bough once they’d sat down.

Sure enough, when they reached the Lightning Tree, they found two packs resting against its trunk. There were a few granola bar wrappers littering the ground but no other sign of the couple. Seran and the guides gathered those things up and then took a longer route back up to the lodge so as to avoid being seen by anyone in camp six.

Back at the lodge they stowed the camp gear in a closet. The guides then returned to their camps. In the morning they’d bring their groups up to the lodge and Seran would announce what had happened. Some people would certainly demand to be taken back home, others would want refunds, and so on. It was all a bit of a headache but one that Seran had faced before. If anything, these sorts of events tended to produce a boom in business for the next couple of months since the mystique of missing hikers would be fresh in the public mind.

It was a well known fact that people sometimes went missing during a Ghost Walk, and it was the very first thing Seran and everyone else always stressed to those who came here. Follow the rules and you’ll have a great time. Break them and you’ll risk being added to the list of known ghosts that may be seen.