Anthony Ballard walked swiftly along the tight confines of the draw leading to the valley proper.

Sumac and brush covered the floor of the draw and clung to the walls where dirt had found a perch. This late in the season, the Sumac had taken on a blood-red hue, a natural signal to avoid the plant or end up in a hospital with a nasty infection. He was amazed by the diversity of the American continent. From the heat and humidity in the south to the dry deserts, from the mountains to the vast woods, America had everything for climate and scenery.

He pushed plants aside and continued his hard pace. It was time to check on the progress of his crew. They had loaded the valley with dozens of ‘traps,’ a word lovingly used to describe the effects that were triggered by the contestants.

There were other variations of triggering mechanisms used by the effects crew. Some required the crew to have a man stationed in the vicinity to launch the effect, while others triggered remotely. This was an art they had created over the life of the show. During the first season, the art had been primitive; strings to pull an open door shut, or a hidden light to make a fog glow. Now they were so good at the work that Anthony suspected he would do just fine making haunted house attractions around the country when the show folded.

The draw was just over a quarter of a mile long, with concrete guard towers spaced every hundred feet. The military had placed a security effort here that was almost as intense as the security of England for the Royal family. No enemy spy could have gotten into this factory without dying in the effort. Still, the excessive security seemed like overkill, even if placed during a time of war.

The walls of the draw folded back, and the valley was open to Anthony. Far ahead, a figure disappeared into the trees. It was the psychic. Anthony snorted derision. Dolan was a nice enough man, but his job seemed useless. As if the man was good for anything; they had yet to encounter a genuine ghost or see anything more dangerous than wood rot.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

The flume effect of the explosion had piled debris in the restrictive opening of the draw. A wealth of steel rail tangled in masonry and wood. Some of it was recognizable as fabricated, like the support bed of a flat car that had twisted during flight. A huge iron cylinder trailing pipes could have been a boiler. He stepped on a window frame touched with moss and edged his way past the wreckage.

Setting a trap here would have the contestants reacting too soon to the valley; they aimed instead for the ruined buildings to the far end of the valley and the rail yards. The bunkers were off limits, by Anthony’s way of thinking. Certainly, the Americans had emptied the bunkers of any ammunition placed during production, but it was not a good idea to risk stepping on a corroded shell misplaced by some half-awake worker.

They had loaded the rail yard with motion detectors, triggering portable recordings. When the contestant stepped in the right place, a train whistle would sound out and a holographic locomotive, make an appearance to goose a reaction. With luck, the contestants would never pinpoint the location of the speakers, herded about the site like cattle to the sounds the show staff had recorded earlier in the day.

Pressure plates in the ruined buildings, at key locations where the contestants would have to step, would start holographic projectors, giving a quick glimpse of a free floating ghost or some other invention of their overactive minds. Other manner of visitations included small hoses connected to pressurized containers that sprayed moisture laden air providing a convenient mist. The number of devices they had come up with was staggering and the selection of gags extensive. The trick was to not use the same device too many times so the audience would not clue in to the deception.

Anthony whistled a spirited rendition of Beethoven’s Fifth symphony as he walked. Paid handsomely for the services he rendered was icing on the cake. He loved his job.

He worked his way north to the site of the initial explosion.