Wendigo

Chapter 17

Sara awoke with a start. She looked around frantically, feeling as if someone or something had hit her in the face. Sara could feel the sensation of where the impact had been on her forehead just above her eyebrow. When Sara sat up, still in her sleeping bag, she heard something fall to the floor. The journal was lying beside her. She touched the book and felt warm.

“Um, does this mean you want me to finish reading this now?” Sara asked, glancing around the cabin. “I promise. I am going to finish reading the journal in the morning. I will not leave here until I have read all of it and I know what happened to both of you. Can I go back to sleep, gentlemen, please? I promise I am not having any bad dreams. I was actually in the middle of a really nice dream that had my husband in it. So what do you say? Jim? Herschel? Can I go back to sleep? Please?”

Sara sat quietly, still in her sleeping bag, waiting for something to happen. She was met with silence. She let out a sigh of relief as she lay down and snuggled back into her sleeping bag. As she lay there, the lightstick hanging from the ceiling began to move again. Sara watched it as it began to make the slow circular arcs, the same as before she had gone to bed.

Sara sighed, this time in frustration, and then said, “Okay, okay, I get it. I will finish reading the journal now.”

Sara crawled out of her sleeping bag, picked up the journal, and placed it back on the table. She sat down and checked the time on her phone. It was barely three o’clock in the morning. Sara shook her head as she resigned herself to the fact she would be starting her day much earlier than she had planned.

Sara began to rummage in her backpack for another pouch of her dehydrated food rations. The one she pulled out first was beef stew. Sara wrinkled her nose as her stomach did a flip at the thought of eating anything that contained meat. She continued to look until she found another package of macaroni and cheese.

“Don’t worry, gentlemen,” Sara said as she stood. “I promise you that I will finish reading the journal. I just need to get more water and start my food cooking before I go back to reading again.”

Sara felt a little silly for announcing what she was doing and apologizing to two men who had been dead for nearly one hundred fifty years. She picked up her flashlight and the cast iron Dutch oven that she had been using to collect water and went to the door. She untied the door and looked out to see the deer still bedded down under the tarp.

“Alright, Ted,” Sara said to the deer. “I need to get water. Please don’t drink it, knock over the pot, or tear down the tarp. Okay?”

The deer blinked and squinted in the beam of her flashlight. The buck let out a soft huff as he looked at Sara.

“Okay, good. Thank you, buddy,” Sara replied to him.

Sara positioned the pot so that the steady rain landing on the tarp would be funneled into it. After watching for a moment to ensure the water was flowing the way it should, she stepped back into the cabin and tied the door, leaving it open a c***k.

Sara could hear the sound of the rainwater flowing into the iron pot as she walked back to the table and sat down. The sound was almost musical to her in her drowsy state. It began to lull her to sleep, causing her head to bob and waking her up with a jerk.

“I need coffee,” Sara said to herself.

Sara knew the pot of water was not full. That meant her first cup would have to be made with water from her bottle and would be room temperature. At that point, she did not care. She was even considering eating a spoonful of the instant coffee directly from the jar if it would give her the jolt of caffeine she needed to wake up.

“You know what? I am going to do this the easy way,” Sara said.

Sara picked up the jar of instant coffee and began to spoon it into her bottle of water. She shook the bottle vigorously and took a taste. She wrinkled her nose and added more of the coffee crystals to the bottle. Sara took another sip and smacked her lips, followed by several long swigs.

“Well, I’ve had worse,” Sara said, satisfied with her concoction. “After reading what you gentlemen went through, I am not sure I will ever complain about anything I have to eat or drink for the rest of my life.”

Sara went to the door, untied it, and picked up the pot of water. She pushed the door closed with her foot before taking the pot to her camp stove to heat it. Sara settled back down at the table and picked up the journal as she waited for the water to heat. She found where she had left off and continued reading.

December 30, 1879

I broke through the drift with the stove poker to find there is still snow falling today, but it has changed. The flakes are heavy and wet. I can hear the plop as they land. Oh, how I pray that means it is warming and the snow will stop. I know praying is a futile effort, yet I still do it. I think it is more out of habit than belief.

I am cooking a large piece of flesh. The thought of eating nauseates me, and still, I crave it. I cannot explain the urge and need I have to consume more and more of it. Even if I am not becoming a wendigo, I have already become a monster.

After I eat, I will dig more firewood out from under this blasted snow. I need to keep the fire going as hot as I can. I feel so cold, and there is no reason for it. I have been burning the fire extra hot, yet it feels like there is no heat at all. Getting out of this infernal cabin will be my only salvation.

December 30, 1879

Second entry. I have dug out snow and packed it around Jim. I swear, he looks healthier than I do right now. Leave it to me to look worse than a dead man. Jim would be laughing at me right now. I can hear it in my head. I think he is laughing at me. He knows what I am going through.

I was able to bring in quite a bit of firewood. I gave up on trying to stack it as I brought it in and just tossed it inside and let it land where it may. I figure as long as I can get to the door, the table, and my bed and the wood isn’t close enough to the stove to catch on fire, it doesn’t matter much now.

My shoulder is hurting something fierce again. I did not think I did much to aggravate it, but I must have. I am waiting on my willow bark tea to be ready. Maybe after I drink that, it will feel better. If it does get better, I need to dig more snow to pack on Jim and bring more wood inside.

December 30, 1879

Third entry. I keep eating the flesh. I want to stop, and I can’t. I have eaten all that I cooked this morning. The hunger that I have is nearly as painful as my shoulder and joints. If I eat as much as my body craves, I might have the strength to get us out of here, and my shoulder might heal better.

I no longer care about the taste of the flesh. I want it so much that it does not matter. I am no longer using the spices Jim showed me as they are not needed. I am cooking more flesh now. I keep cooking more and more each time, and I eat all of it with no satisfaction of my hunger.

Maybe after I eat, I will feel a little better, and then I will get back to work. If I can work enough, I might be able to keep my mind off of the craving and hunger pains.

December 30, 1879

Fourth entry. It is raining. I have never been so happy to see rain in my life. There is rain and a light, warm wind out of the south. If this melts the snow or even melts part of it, it might make me believe in a higher power once more.

It has not been raining long, and I can already see a difference in the amount of snow on the ground. For the first time since this snow began to fall, I feel like I might actually be able to get us out of this cabin. I feel a glimmer of hope, which I have not had in a very long time.

Oh my, Sarah, I wish I could leave this cabin and walk straight into your arms. I miss those days. I have never wanted them more than I do now. I long for you and to hold you. There is a part of me that thinks about not leaving this cabin and joining you. I have thought of that more than I care to admit.

December 30, 1879

Fifth entry. It is dark outside, but I can see the rain is melting the snow much faster than I had expected. It has melted several inches already. This is our salvation. This is how we will get out of this cabin. I might survive long enough to bury Jim as I promised and to set the traps and snares for food.

December 30, 1879

Sixth entry. I can hear the rain on the roof. I have never been so happy to hear that sound. There are other sounds in the storm. I can hear thunder in the distance and other noises. The howls and screams of those monsters in the forest are mixed with it. I do not care. As long as the rain melts this confounded snow, Hell can send all of its creations to this place tonight.

December 30, 1879

Seventh entry. I tried to sleep, but my dreams were not only invaded by the wendigo but those monsters I hear at night in the deep forest and that thing that skulks about the cabin. I did not even know what they looked like, and yet they were in my mind, violating my sleep.

I would rather they take me in my sleep than for them to torture me in this way. I wish Jim would return to my dreams. The real Jim. The Jim, who is my friend and brother. The Jim who died because of me and his desire to help me. I will never be able to make up for what I have done to Jim. I will always carry the guilt of his loss with me.

Sara marked her spot in the book and closed it with a sigh. Reading Herschel’s mental and physical agony was wearing on her. She closed her eyes and thought of how Herschel had made his promise to Jim, and she was determined to keep the promise she made to both of the men.

She went to the stove where her rainwater was now boiling. She turned off the gas flame and used her tin coffee cup to measure water into her cooking pot for her macaroni and cheese. She refilled her coffee cup with water before placing both on the table. She dumped the packet of freeze-dried pasta into the pot and stirred it. She sat down and sighed as she poured instant coffee into her cup and swirled it around. With her first sip, she could feel the comforting warmth and the caffeine enter her system.

“Oh, that’s better,” Sara said as she poured some of her cold coffee into the cup to cool it a little. She took another drink from the cup and murmured. “That’s even better.”

Sara drank her coffee as she waited for her noodles to reconstitute and be edible. She reached over to her cooking pot and stirred it occasionally, each time sampling a small bite to see if it was ready to eat. She was famished after eating mostly trail mix the day before.

Sara was finally content that the macaroni and cheese was ready to eat. She moved the cooking pot, set it in front of her, and began to eat directly from it. Sara was aware she was eating faster than she should have, but it did not matter to her. She wanted to get back to the journal. When she finished eating, she shoved the pot over to the side and picked up the journal at the same time. She quickly found her place in the book and continued reading where she had left off.

December 31, 1879

I did my best to not sleep last night, but I failed. Each time I would doze off, those monstrosities would invade my mind. I can still hear them now while I am awake. The sounds are never ending from them.

I am cooking more flesh. I am cooking as much as I can at one time now. It is supposed to last the day, and instead of that, my ravenous hunger makes me eat it all in a matter of a few hours. Then I must cook more.

I have not checked the snow yet this morning. I can still hear the rain tapping at the roof and now the walls of the cabin. That sound is like the chore bells of Heaven to me. We might finally be free of this place.

December 31, 1879

Second entry. Hallelujah, the snow is still melting. It is down a few feet from where it was last night when I last checked it. I am nearly in tears with relief at knowing I will be able to get us out of here unless, God forbid, this changes back to snow. For the first time in many days, I can see over the top of the drift in front of the cabin. I no longer feel like my home is a tomb.

I need to prepare what small traps and snares we still have in the cabin so I can set them as soon as I can climb over the drift in front of the door. I also need to wrap Jim and prepare him for burial. That will be the most challenging part of this for me. While he is still here in the cabin, I feel like he is still with me and watching over me. Laughing at me when I do something dumb.

I miss Jim’s stories. I wish he was sitting here telling me one of them as I get the traps ready. The stories he told me about things he did when he was a boy were my favorite. I would have loved to grow up the way he did. He knew everything about every plant, animal, and fish in this area. He was so kind and loved to share everything. Lord, I miss him.

My Sarah, I never thought I would miss anyone the way I miss you. I was wrong. I miss Jim as much as I miss you. In a few ways, maybe more. I feel guilty about that. I should never miss anyone more than I miss you.

I have held off eating more flesh for as long as I can. I am starving. I should not be, yet I am. I need to eat to settle this craving.

December 31, 1879

Third entry. I should not have eaten. I know I must if I am to have the strength to get us out of here tomorrow, but I am now more voracious than I have been to this point. I have never felt anything like this. It is consuming my every thought.

I am doing my best to focus on getting everything ready for our escape from this place and getting food tomorrow. My mind keeps going back to my hunger and lust for more flesh. It is an inhuman gluttony that is afflicting me.

My beautiful Sarah, I have longed to be with you since the day I lost you. At this moment, I would not want you to see me as I am. I have become as much a monstrosity as those beasts that have invaded this forest.

December 31, 1879

Fourth entry. It is nearly dark, and the rain and wind are continuing to melt the snow. I am completely flabbergasted at how fast it is melting. If it continues at this rate, there will be no snow left on the ground by morning.

I am planning how to do things tomorrow. I think I will go out and set the traps and snares first thing. After that, I will come back and take Jim out to bury him as I promised. I will look for a good place while I set the traps.

I have a place in mind that I need to check on for him before I lay him to rest there. It is close enough to the cabin that I can keep watch over his grave and tend to it as needed. It is a small clearing among a little grove of trees. When I have gone there, I have felt how serene and peaceful it is, and deer are often grazing there. I think he will like it there. I believe his soul will rest well there.

December 31, 1879

Fifth entry. I could no longer take the urges and hunger. I am cooking more flesh. I will be so relieved when I have Jim buried and can no longer consume him. I would rather starve than continue, but I give in to my weakness with him here in the cabin with me. If he is in the grave, I will not have a choice. That will be best for both of us.

I sit here contemplating if I should sleep tonight or not. If I do, I have no doubt that my dreams will be filled with those abominations, including the wendigo that takes Jim’s form once again. That thought makes me feel sick to my stomach. That monster pretending to be my brother and taking his form in my dreams shows how truly evil it is.

My body and mind are both weary. My eyelids are heavy, and it is taking what strength I have left to fight sleep. If I sleep, it will do me no good. I will feel the same as if I stay awake because of the blasted dreams tearing at what is left of my sanity. I will take the risk of going completely mad if it means I might rest tonight.

December 31, 1879

Sixth entry. Jim came to me in my dreams, the real Jim. We talked like we always have. I told him where I have planned to bury him, and he wholeheartedly approves. I apologized for not laying him to rest sooner, and he told me not to worry myself about it. That I have no power to control the weather, including a blizzard, no matter how much I may want to.

Jim told me he will keep the monster from invading my sleep tonight and for as long as he can. After he is buried, his spirit will be free, and he might not be able to protect me after that. I thanked him for anything he can do. Even if it is only one night to allow me to rest, I will be happy.

January 1, 1880

It is the first day of the new year, and I hope that it is an omen of what the year will bring. The sun is shining, and the snow has almost entirely melted. There are still some remains of drifts that wear extra deep, and that is all.

I have my day planned. I will eat before I go out and set the traps and snares. After that, I will come back here, eat again, and rest a bit. Then I will finish bundling Jim and then take him to where he will rest. The ground is frozen, so I will have to pile rocks on top of him to protect him. I will collect and place as many rocks as I can today, and each day, come back and add more. By the time I am done, I want him to be under a mountain, safe and protected.

I have more flesh cooked, and it should now be cool enough for me to eat. After breakfast, I will get started with everything. Today will be our salvation and escape from this place. I can feel that in my soul.

January 1, 1880

Second entry. I got all the snares and small traps set that I had here in the cabin. I am resting a bit, drinking some willow bark tea and eating before I take Jim to his final resting place. I am not sure how I feel about what I am about to do.

With Jim being in the cabin with me, it almost felt as if he was still here. Now that I have him wrapped in his shroud and I will be taking him to his grave, I am finally feeling that he is gone. I have shed more tears today than I have since he passed. My heart hurts for my brother. I will never get over losing him.

I keep looking at my hands and hope they will hold out for the task ahead of me. They are now gray, and the skin is tough and leathery. I have never seen anything quite like them. I know it is not from frostbite because I can still move them and feel everything. I have not looked, but I am sure my face has the same appearance. I keep telling myself that all I need is real food, and I will get better. After today, I will have what I need.

January 1, 1880

Third entry. I finally have Jim ready to go to his final resting place. It will be a bear of a time getting him to where I am taking him, only being able to use one arm. Jim will be laughing at me the entire time. I can feel it. He will be watching and laughing, offering me his advice and critiques as I go.

I am going to start now. I hope that when I return to this cabin, Jim will be interred, and I will have game that I succeeded in catching in the traps. The thought of fried rabbit has never sounded so good. I have to get started if I want to get back before dark.

Sara sat looking at the open book in her hands. She flipped through the rest of it, looking for more writing. Sara sat stunned. That had been the last passage in the journal. Her heart sank as she thought of what that meant. Herschel had never returned to the cabin as he had planned.

Sara began to cry as she closed the book. She needed to find where Jim was buried and do her best to find Herschel’s remains if she could. Locating the mound of rocks covering Jim would be relatively easy. Herschel would be another story. She knew enough to know that if he had died in the open, his body would have been scavenged and then the bones scattered by the animals.

Sara picked up her phone and sent a message to her husband. She asked him to look at satellite images and see if he could find a mound of dirt or stones near her location. She put the phone down and waited for her husband, Kevin, to answer.