Lost

“Don’t eat that.”

Ashley jumped away as the cold words slithered up her arm and into her ears. She darted her head around to find the source of the voice, to no avail. It took a few moments before she realized that she didn’t remember hearing the words. No, she felt them like a chilling breeze slipping into her mind.

She stepped away from the bright mushroom, perched tantalizingly on a rotten tree stump. Ashley had learned about ghosts, much in the same way she’d learned about ‘stop, drop, and roll’, quicksand, and how to spot a poisonous snake. In repeated rhymes, tall tales, and movies that all blended in an unverifiable mix of fact and fiction.

Ashley creased her forehead, struggling to piece together half-remembered warnings and lessons she received as a child, yet never used.

Ghosts were the lingering memories of the deceased, that bit of scientific je-ne-sais-quoi that made life more than just a series of complicated chemical reactions. Strong emotions bound these souls to the places, objects, and beings that killed them.

But much as they are in life, people are fallible. A ghost could lash out against innocents they believe had killed them. Whisper madness into the hearts of the vulnerable, spiteful of the living. Push someone to their death for a chance at companionship.

Hunger twisted Ashely’s stomach into knots, trying to squeeze the last bits of nutrients from her body. She hadn’t eaten for five days, and she was lost in this godforsaken forest. An impromptu encounter with a grizzly bear sent her tumbling down a hill and into the wilderness. She considered herself lucky she wasn’t haunting the grizzly.

Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. Plenty more people have died in the city than in the middle of nowhere, she reasoned. She’d never run into one personally! Sure, a friend of a friend told her once or twice about a close encounter with a ghost. What were the chances she’d run into a ghost now, of all times, when she was hungry, thirsty, lost, at the end of her rope? Ashley reached for the mushroom again.

“Hey! What did I say? Don’t eat that!”

A stick flew out of nowhere and batted her hand away from the succulent mushroom. Ashley yiped and backed away.

“If you’re suicidal, there are better ways. Cliffs, wolves, bears, a noose…those are quicker and more painless.”

This wasn’t her imagination. Moving stuff around was already the sign of a strong ghost, but one this self-aware meant it must have been quite powerful. Ashley felt her vision fuzz around the edges as she backed away further. What did she do to deserve this? Lost in a forest haunted by a powerful spirit.

“Woah lady. Chill out. You don’t have to off yourself if you don’t want to. Just try to avoid the killer here, it ain’t a portabella.”

“I, uh…” The young woman felt the blood leave her face. Did it want her to starve? Or did it actually want to help her? How was she supposed to ask? Maybe start with the basics? “Um…Oh, spirit! What is thy name?!”

“Lady, I died in ’09. Not 1709, just 2009. No need to do the theatrics those huffy globs of expired ectoplasm are so fond of.” The wind rustled in the leaves like chittering laughter. “Call me Jeffrey.”

Ashley felt more at ease. Not much, mind you, but there’s a gulf of difference between speaking with a ghost dead in this century from one a long while ago. Sort of like talking to your manager or your CEO. From the way Jeff talked, he seemed like one of the cooler managers.

“Well, uh…hi Jeff.” Ashley waved. “I’m Ashley. I went camping and now I’m lost. My canteen ran out of water a day ago and I’m very hungry.” Her stomach growled as if to punctuate her statement.

“Nice to meet you, Ashley. I can’t help you with the food because, hey, the mushrooms will cause you to have a very slow and painful death. But I can lead you to a nearby river. A cave too, if you need shelter.”

Another stick stood at attention at Ashley’s feet. She stared at it, mouth agape, as it tumbled end over end in circles around her before spiraling off into the forest. The other option being continuing blindly into the forest, Ashely calmed her nerves and followed.

The stick tumbled up hills, rolled down winding slopes, bounced between tight-knit trees and arrived before a clearing. Ashley heard the trickling before she saw the sparkling waves. She rushed through the underbrush, nearly tripping on the rounded stones to reach the clear water. As she fell to her knees and dunked her head in the river, a small part of her warned it may still be Jeff ‘s trap.

Ashley drowned the doubts in hearty gulps of fresh water.

After she filled her canteen, Ashley wondered why she hadn’t heard from Jeff since she got to the river. She traced her steps backwards until she found the bushes she’d torn from in her mad dash for water. Nestled between the stems and dark leaves, a fleshy brown protrusion sprouted from the earth.

Another mushroom. The same type she’d nearly eaten.

“You looked thirsty.” Jeff’s voice made her jump.

“Jesus!”

“No, Jeff.”

Ashley calmed her racing heart and wiped the hair out of her face. It was difficult to assign any emotion to the words unfurling inside her mind. Yet Jeff seemed to be pleasant, almost humorous with his words. Not wailing or spiteful as one would expect from the dead.

“You said there was a cave?”

“More of an outcropping. Some shelter is better than no shelter, eh?”

The lost camper was worried that he might lead her into the maw of another ravenous beast. True to his word, though, the disembodied voice and bouncing twig led her to a small dirt cliff face held into place by the roots of a long-overturned tree. Some storm had partially uprooted the tree, felling the mighty oak so that’s trunk lay against the ground. Yet it still lived, the younger branches twisting upwards in defiance of its fate. For the first time in days, Ashley felt a spark of hope.

Jeff was helpful for a dead guy. Before the sun set, he helped her find suitable branches and foliage to turn the refuge into a nest. He told her what plants poisonous, which ones were kept water out best, and which could make the most comfortable sleeping mat.

“How do you know all this?”

“I have time for myself. Plenty to observe. To listen.”

“I thought ghosts were more…unstable?” Ashley winced, fearing she’d hit a sore spot.

“I’m a ghost?!”

Ashley nearly dropped the bundle of sticks she was carrying.

“Kidding, kidding! You’re right, ghosts tend to have issues. I’ve met my fair share on both sides of ‘the road’.”

“What’s keeping you here then?”

“It’s a bit embarrassing.” He refused to elaborate.

Days passed. Jeff proved to be invaluable to Ashley. Not only was his knowledge integral to building shelter, he was keenly aware of the dangerous predators that roamed the locale. More importantly, the voice was a much needed companion for Ashley; her days alone had begun to affect her mind in strange ways. Seeing shadows flit out of her vision, hearing whispers at the edge of her awareness.

There were some days that Ashley wondered if she hadn’t already gone insane. That Jeff was just a voice in her head. The doubts faded away the more he spoke to her. A dumb joke when she went spear fishing, an off-handed comment about a particular animal, a story from his life.

Jeff was open in a lot of things. But he still refused to say what kept him there.

The days stretched into weeks. Jeff insisted Ashley stay in the area, explaining he couldn’t explore the entire forest and that his help would be needed to find other people.

“You aren’t the first person to get lost here.” Jeff admitted as Ashley walked through the branches of her oak tree, picking out broken sticks and dead leaves like a mother would out of a child’s hair. “You’re the fourth I’ve met.”

“Who were the others?”

Arthur was an older man who enjoyed hiking in the wilderness. He was the first person Jeff met after his demise, and was largely responsible with Jeff coming to terms with his death. Arthur had worked with ghosts before; once as a young teen for a real haunted house, and quite a few times when he was a librarian. He’d impressed upon Jeff an appreciation of nature that he’d kept to this day.

One day he left the forest and never came back.

“He could be lost. Or he’s forgotten where I was. Sigh.” Jeff didn’t need to breathe, though he’d admitted even vocalizing a sigh helped him feel better. “I don’t hold it against him. He wasn’t very detail oriented.”

Melanie was a skittish child. She’d scream and cry whenever Jeff tried to talk to her. He’d worked around it by communicating with sticks he’d shape into basic symbols. Her laughter made Jeff feel like he was alive again. She was his greatest post-mortem regret.

“She ate some berries. I thought they were safe.” The pauses between each of his words was heavy with a mixture of emotions Ashley could only guess at. “It ain’t fair.”

Brent was a middle-aged man with graying hair and a permanent scowl. He came to the forest to run from something. His debts, a spurned lover, Jeff even liked to imagine he was trying to escape from the mafia. Whatever the case may have been, Brent had excised his past from himself, abandoning the chaos of civilization for a simple life of solitude. He ate little and talked even less, answering Jeff’s question with nods and grunts. Over time, the stern lines on his face softened into gentle wrinkles. He spoke more and more with Jeff about his ideas on mortality, the universe, and humanity’s destiny.

“He was so different in the last few years. I didn’t think anyone could change that much. One day he lay against a tree and refused to eat. He looked so peaceful.” A leaf twirled about above the fire Ashley had set, avoiding the licking flames and dancing away from sparks with supernatural accuracy. “His body is still there. Decomposing serenely. It’s a very quiet place.”

“Does anybody escape from this forest?” Ashley warmed her hands by the fire, the scent of roasting fish failing to keep her mind busy.

She shivered. The nights were getting colder.

“You will.”

The leaf settled into the fire, burning away into smoke and warmth.

“Four people came here since you died. This part of the forest has taken five lives. Soon six.” Ashley hugged her knees and poked at the embers with a branch.

“You will get out.”

“What about you, then?” Ashley stared into the whisps of smoke, daring them to form into the shape of the man she’d imagined had kept her company the last three weeks. “I know that you’re self-aware enough to appear.”

Ghosts could manifest as apparitions. These pale images would present the dead as they remembered themselves. Sometimes they held an ethereal beauty of life right before death. Most times, the ghost would see their bodies after they died, traumatic wounds and all.

The fire cracked open one of the larger logs.

“I’m a sight for sore eyes. You don’t want to see me before you go to bed.”

“Even the elephant man would be a welcome sight.”

“Ashley.” The voice begged for her attention. “Do you remember the mushroom? When we first met?”

Ashley nodded.

“That’s what killed me.”

What we know as mushrooms are only reproductive organs. Beneath the soil, spreading in every which direction, are thousands upon thousands of mycelium threads. A single fungus can spread for acres in soil, enriching it and connecting hundreds of root networks together. In effect, a fungal network can become a support system for an entire biome, nourishing plants and insects and fending off disease. Some fungi develop deadly poisons to protect themselves and the citizens of their soil-bound kingdom.

Only a fool would eat a mushroom they weren’t entirely sure was safe. It would take an arrogant fool to eat one despite warnings. One must be a proud, arrogant fool to ignore warnings, pretend nothing was wrong, and go deeper into the forest alone to empty their bowels.

“The last words my brother told me were ‘Don’t eat that.’ Of course, I ate it in secret to prove he was wrong. I wanted to hold it over his arrogant head. I spent the last few hours of my life in agony as I crapped myself. I was cursing him, this forest, and the damn mushroom to my last breath.”

Ashley opened and closed her mouth several times.

“You’re bound to the mushroom that killed you.”

“Once I was a mix of awful emotions. But as I watched my half-naked body decompose, the mushrooms sprouting, rupturing my bloated skin, all I felt was disgust and shame. My death wasn’t tragic or noble. It was pathetic. I was pathetic. I don’t want the only person getting out of here remembering me like that.”

“I’m not getting out.” Ashely squeezed herself tighter into a ball, the fading flames reflected in her dark eyes.

“Yes, you are.”

The young woman watched the fire she made flicker away into glowing embers, smoke whisps whirling beyond the canopy and into the stars. Ashley retreated to her nest that night without much hope.

Despite that, another log tossed itself into the dying embers.

The next morning, Ashley awoke before the sun could breach the canopy. Jeff was quiet. Yet…she heard movement. Barking dogs. Voices. Fearing she’d finally lost her mind, she pulled away the thatch covering the entrance of her nest. Her eyes widened.

“Hello?!” She called.

“We’ve found somebody!”

Things passed in a blur. Teams of people converged on her camp, bringing rations and wrapping her in blankets as they offered comforting words. Ashley answered their questions in a daze, her cheeks aching from her relieved smile. They insisted on putting her in a stretcher, and when they carried her away, Ashley could have sworn she saw a vague shape in the darkness from the nearby trees, right by a little brown mushroom.

It was waving at her.

“Thanks.” Ashley whispered.

“Told you.”