Wendigo

Chapter14

Sara sat at the table picking the raisins out of her bag of trail mix as she snacked on it and made a little pile of the fruit. The thought of having a heavy meal or anything with meat in it made her stomach do somersaults. She picked a few more raisins out of the bag before raking all of them into the palm of her hand. Sara got up and headed for the door to give them to the deer, whom she called Ted as a treat.

“Are you there, Ted?” Sara asked before she peeked out the door.

Sara was greeted with the customary snort as the deer continued to lie against the cabin door.

She laughed, “Of course you’re there. Where else would you be?”

Sara gently held her hand out to the deer through the c***k in the door. The buck happily and quickly nibbled the raisins from her hand, tickling her as he did.

“You are such a good boy. I wish I could take you home with me,” Sara told him.

The deer responded by flicking his ears and nuzzling her hand, raking his antlers against the cabin in the process.

Sara laughed, “And that, my friend, is why I can’t take you home. You would never fit in my car, and with those antlers, I can’t see anything good happening to my house.”

Sara went back to the table and sat down. Picking up the journal again, she turned it in her hands several times, looking closely at the leather cover. Sara was thinking about the hardships the man who wrote it had gone through and how heartbroken he was as he wrote. Sara opened the journal to the place where she had left off and continued reading.

December 21, 1879

I sit here at this table, staring at my plate. I have prepared another piece of flesh and plenty of fry bread. I have not been able to bring myself to take a bite of the flesh yet. The mere thought of doing that again makes me want to retch.

I know there is no other option but to eat it if I want to keep going. Why did I have to make that promise to Jim? If I had not done that, I would not think twice about letting that fire go out and having the cold take me. I wonder if he would forgive me if I did. I think he would come to me and haunt me until I either built the fire back up and ate or torture me in the afterlife with his never-ending complaining about me breaking the promise.

December 21, 1879

Second entry. I broke down and ate more flesh. I did it the same way I did last night. I cut it into tiny bits and ate each one with a bite of bread to hide as much of the flavor as I could.

The strangest part of it is that I feel like I need to eat more, even though I hate it. I do not understand why I feel that way. Maybe the stories Jim told me of the wendigo are true, and that is why I want to eat it when I hate it.

I did not even check the snow today. I can hear the wind blowing. That will either pile the drifts back up after I clear it or bring more. It is a futile effort to try to dig out, and I know that. I am going to wait until I can no longer hear the howling of the wind before I check the snow. Perhaps God will smile on me and blow some of this snow off the cabin and away from the door. It would be the first time he has.

December 21, 1879

Third entry. My Sarah, what am I becoming? I detest the taste of the flesh, yet I feel the need to eat it. Like it is some kind of unearthly urge to consume it. I do not understand what is happening.

I can almost hear Jim’s voice in my head, telling me that I need to eat to stay alive and do what I need to do. To keep the promise that I made to him and to make it out of the forest in the spring.

The silence in this cabin is nearly maddening. I can hear the wind if it is blowing hard, and I can hear the howls and stomps of the monsters outside. Other than that, the snow has sealed this place like a tomb.

December 21, 1879

Fourth entry. I had another piece of flesh. I keep trying to think of ways to hide the flavor of it. I will keep making bread as long as I have flour.

I will only eat as much as I have to so that I can keep up enough strength to dig out firewood beside the cabin door and get out of here when it comes time. I need to go out and get more wood now if I can.

My shoulder is sore from hitting it when I slipped. That just made everything worse. I thought it was finally starting to get a little better, and then I have to go and do that. At least after this long, I am getting used to working with only one good arm.

I think I will have some willow bark tea before I try to dig out the sticks of wood. If it does what it had been, that will help take the edge off the pain if I move wrong or bump it again.

December 21, 1879

Fifth entry. I tried to sleep. What little rest I did get after I got the wood was fitful and filled with screams and strange shapes and shadows running about the trees I saw in my nightmare. It has been a long time since I have had dreams like that one.

I have a headache, and I am not feeling well for some reason. The last thing I need is to get sick on top of being injured and trapped by this infernal blizzard. If I do, I fear that will be the end of me, and there will be nothing I can do about it.

December 21, 1879

Sixth entry. There is a sound outside like nothing I have ever heard. It sounds like someone is moaning only much, much louder than what any human could ever be capable of. There is no way that another person could be out there in this weather. I have not seen another living soul who resided outside of this cabin in years unless I was in town, selling hides and stocking up on supplies.

I cannot sleep. The noise has me on edge and is making my head hurt even more. I have to question if I am being punished. Punished for things that I did years ago, what I have done to Jim, and for things that I may do in the future.

December 22, 1879

I am exhausted. I slept little last night due to the noises in the dark. Those sounds, my God, those sounds. They kept getting louder and echoed off everything. The snow should have muffled them, but it felt like it made them louder still.

I have never experienced anything quite like that before. I remember the sounds during the war, and I think last night might have been worse. At least during the war, I knew what was screaming and moaning. I have no idea what was making the racket that went on last night.

I still need to eat this morning. I have no appetite, especially since I know part of what I must eat. The vile nature of what I am doing makes me feel that I am more of a monster than what was outside the cabin during the night.

December 22, 1879

Second entry. I forced myself to eat more flesh. After I cooked it, I minced it and mixed it into the fry bread dough before cooking that. I added a lot of salt and pepper to the dough, and all of that combined did make it slightly more palatable. It was still horrendous to eat it. I think this time, it was more of the thought of where it came from than the flavor. The taste was still not something I enjoyed. It was, however, tolerable.

After I had eaten, I proceeded to dig more firewood out of the snow against the cabin. Even with virtually no sleep, I still had the strength to do it, to my surprise. That strength did not last long, so I am resting for a while and will go back to it soon.

December 22, 1879

Third entry. I was elated when I broke through the snow and saw blue sky while digging out the firewood. That joy did not last. As I continued to dig, I began to hear the stomping of that thing that comes around the cabin at night.

I am barricaded inside the cabin, that is both my blessing and my curse. That thing is walking around on the roof again. I don’t know what it is or why it is here. It has only ever been here at night. It makes no sense for it to change its pattern and be here during the day when it is only out at night.

For a short while, I felt brave. I stood in the doorway, looking up through the opening in the snow. I was hoping to see a glimpse of something that would tell me what it is. It did not take long for common sense to take over, and that is when I came inside and secured the door. I don’t know what I was thinking when I was watching for it. I wouldn’t be able to fight anything as enormous as it sounds, even if I were uninjured.

I think I will lie down and rest while that thing is roaming about the roof. If I do, I will be able to get more done when that thing leaves. If it leaves. It seems like it has been here more than not recently.

December 22, 1879

Fourth entry. Jim came to me in my sleep again. This dream was unsettling. Jim did not look like himself. He was gaunt and pale, almost gray. His hair was loose and disheveled. Each time he opened his mouth, that moan I heard in the woods came out of him. This was not the Jim I knew. It was not my brother.

I need more sleep, but I do not want to close my eyes. I do not want to have another dream about Jim like I had. I do not want to see him that way. I must sleep. I will lie down and wait for what happens.

December 22, 1879

Fifth entry. I am awake again. I am not sure I had even fallen asleep yet when something hit the chimney, shaking the stovepipe all the way down to the stove. I made sure the fire was good and hot before I laid down, so whatever hit it got burned, or at least it was uncomfortable for it. At least, I hope so.

I did not dream of Jim again, which makes me happy. I never thought I would say that. I miss him so much, and the first dreams I had of him made me feel better. They made me feel as if he was still with me, watching over me like he did. The last one I had did the opposite. It was terrifying, and I never want to have another one like that again.

I am going to try again to sleep. If the monster on the roof and the nightmares hold off, I might be able to get some rest. I need rest more than I need food right now.

December 23, 1879

Jim came to me in another dream this morning, and this time he was himself. He told me to pay no attention to the alternate version of him because that is the wendigo putting things in my head. He said he knows I am strong enough to resist it and to continue doing what I have to do to survive until I can get out of this cabin.

In the dream, Jim also told me about something he had hidden from me and had intended to give me before he died. That son of a gun said he had a bag with spices of some kind in it hidden in his pack. He told me to use them on his flesh to make it easier to eat. I looked in his bag, and sure enough, there was a leather pouch with a few small glass jars in it. Each one had a different spice in it. Jim is still watching after me, even from the grave.

December 23, 1879

Second entry. I did what Jim told me to do and cooked the flesh using the spices he had hidden. It did make it easier to eat, which is good. I do not know how much longer the flour will last. Being able to make less bread to choke down the flesh will mean the food will last longer.

I will be bringing in more firewood in a few minutes. I am letting my breakfast settle for a bit before I start work again. I am packing the snow and trying to clear steps to get out of here as I uncover the wood.

I feel like I am in a snow cave as I work. The drifts on and around the cabin are well over my head now. I can break through right above my head at the doorway with the stove poker, just enough to see the sky and know if it is cloudy, sunny, day, or night. Other than that, I can only dig and pack the snow in small sections, and only having one arm I can use makes it very slow going.

The snow I am digging out is either being put into the pots to melt for drinking water, or I am packing it around Jim to keep him cold. You would think that I would have already cleared out all of it by now, but the way the snow and wind keep going, it just fills everything I clear back up. It looks like I have never done a thing by the time it is done.

December 23, 1879

Third entry. When I came inside to rest from clearing snow, I put my head down on the table, and I must have dozed off. Jim came to me again and yelled at me to eat more. That I had to eat more if I want to survive. I tried to explain to him how difficult it is for me to do what he wants, but that made him angrier. I don’t think I ever saw him furious like that when he was alive. It is beyond disturbing to see him like that now. I miss his kind and peaceful demeanor.

When I woke up, I immediately cut off more flesh, and I am cooking it the way Jim told me. I don’t know what else to do. It seems like he is going to haunt my dreams until I have gotten us both out of this place. It is strange how, even though the dreams are sometimes disturbing, I find comfort in them. I know Jim is still here with me. I hope that does not change after I bury him. I might be selfish for feeling that way, but I want him to stay with me. I missed having a friend and a brother until I met him, and now I miss it again. Perhaps more acutely than I ever have.

Sara marked her spot in the journal and set it aside. She looked at the shelves and became curious. She grabbed her flashlight, walked over to them, and started looking in the boxes again. In the third wooden crate, Sara saw a small leather bag and smiled.

“Huh? Well, I wonder if that is the magical spice pouch.” Sara mused.

Sara picked it up and felt several items inside of it. She took it back to the table, carefully opened it, and dumped out the contents. Six small glass jars rolled out of the pouch and onto the table, each containing a small amount of ground plants or seeds.

“Jim, you sneaky son of a gun. No wonder Herschel could ever make anything he cooked taste the same as when you cooked it,” Sara said as she laughed.

Sara began to open each jar and sniff them. She was curious about the contents and what spices Jim had been so protective over for him to hide them from Herschel. As Sara smelled them, she became even more filled with questions. She did not recognize the aroma of any of the jars.

“Well, Jim, it looks like this will be a secret that you get to keep for now. I have no idea what these spices are,” Sara said.

Sara took the pouch back to the shelf and gently tucked it back into the wooden box where she had found it. She was chuckling to herself as she went back to the table and sat down.

Her grandmother was fiercely protective of recipes, treats, and secret concoctions that came out of her kitchen. When Sara’s birthday was celebrated months earlier at her mother’s home, her grandmother chased everyone out of the kitchen while she finished one of her famous dishes. Jim appeared to be the same way.

Sara thought about eating something before returning to reading and decided not to. As a trauma nurse, she was used to all manner of injuries and events bringing people into the emergency room. It had never phased her ability to eat. Reading the journal and what Herschel and Jim were going through made her lose her appetite.

Sara got up and made herself a cup of coffee before settling back in at the table. She picked up the journal and took a deep, slow breath in preparation for continuing to read. She gently opened the book back up to where she had left off.

December 23, 1879

Fourth entry. I went back to bringing in more firewood while the flesh cooked. I wasn’t at it very long before the wind kicked up, and I had to quit. The snow began blowing down into the opening I had made and right into my face, blinding me while I tried to work.

This confounded snow and wind are like nothing I have ever seen before. Even in all the years I have been trapping here in this forest, I have never seen its likes. I can hear the wind outside now.

Now, I sit at the table with the flesh on my plate, cooling until I can eat it. I still do not like it, but thanks to those spices and herbs Jim had hidden, it is far better than it was. It takes away that metallic taste of copper that was overpowering and so repulsive.

The flesh has cooled enough now that I can eat it. I will have my meal and then get back to the firewood. I will if the wind and snow allow it, that is.

December 23, 1879

Fifth entry. While I brought in wood and cleared snow, I began to hear howls off in the distance. At first, I thought they were from the wolves, and then I listened closer. It was something far more immense than a wolf. The howl was deep and resonating. I could feel it in my chest even at the distance away that it was. I fear it was that monstrosity that Jim and me saw in the forest while checking our traps.

I can still hear it while I sit here in the cabin with the door barred. It is keeping its distance which is some comfort, not much, but some. I don’t know if I will sleep tonight if that thing continues with its ungodly howls. I fear I won’t.

I am going to rest and eat a little while I wait for that thing to leave. It is getting close to dark, so I will be done for the day if it does not go soon. I guess I will know when it happens.

December 23, 1879

Sixth entry. The howling never stopped. I had given up on doing more work and had gone to bed. Then that abomination returned, stomping around outside and on the roof. It was stomping so hard that it made the lantern hanging from the ceiling swing back and forth. I want to know what it is, and yet, I do not.