Wendigo

Chapter 15

Sara marked her place in the journal, downed the rest of her coffee, and stood to make a fresh cup. The squeak of her chair on the floor was met with a snort outside the door. Sara started laughing at the buck who had become the self-appointed guardian of the cabin door.

“I hear you, Ted, I hear you,” Sara called out to the deer. “I am not supposed to feed you, so quit asking. And don’t you have deer things to be doing, like finding a nice dry place to sleep tonight?”

Another snort and the grating of antlers on the door was the response.

“You are so weird,” Sara muttered, barely above a whisper.

After dipping a cup of hot water from the pot on her camp stove, Sara returned to the table, sat, and looked at her cup. She had thought she wanted coffee, but now she wanted something different. Sara began to dig in her backpack until she found one of the instant cocoa packets. Chocolate was just what she needed.

Sara sat absently stirring her cup as she thought about everything that had happened since she had decided to take her disastrous hiking trip. First, her husband had a work emergency and was not able to go with her. That was followed by what started out as a beautiful excursion, which quickly went downhill when the rain started. Ted, the white-tail deer, rammed her and knocked her down the embankment, leading to her sustaining what were fortunately minor injuries and the discovery of the cabin. Finally, all of that was topped by her taking shelter in the ancient dwelling and finding the journal of the man who had built it. It was beyond anything she could have possibly imagined when she had scheduled the time off from work.

Sara shook her head as she looked at the journal on the table in front of her. Being in the cabin would be much worse if she had not found that book. At least the journal gave her something to do and made her feel connected to the men who had lived there decades earlier. She picked up the book and continued to read.

December 24, 1879

It is Christmas Eve, and I have never felt so alone. I woke up to utter silence. This cabin has never felt more like a tomb than when I was lying in bed in the pre-dawn stillness.

Jim came to me in my sleep again. He looked like himself this time. He was also very insistent that I keep eating his flesh so I can bury him as I promised. I will never be able to put into words how much it hurts me to desecrate him in that way. The worst part is, I know I must continue to do it until I can get us out of this cabin.

I am cooking a piece of flesh now. After I eat, I will go back to the firewood outside the cabin and work on getting us out of this situation. I feel like I am the reason we are here now, and I have to be the one to get us out.

I have not bothered to open the door yet and see what has happened to the work I did yesterday. With the profound quiet, either the wind was still, and everything is as I left it or the wind and snow came again last night while I slept, and we are altogether buried once more. I will find out after I eat breakfast.

December 24, 1879

Second entry. It looks like the weather was in my favor for a change. The snow I cleared was just the way I left it yesterday. Through the opening at the top of the snowdrift, I can see a bright blue sky.

It might be me, but it feels a little warmer today than it has been. I hope that it is and that it continues to get warmer. I know it is December, and the chances of the weather being warm enough to melt the snow are slim to none. I can still hope for a warm wind or rain to melt at least some of the snow.

Now that I have rested a little, I am going to get back to digging snow. I need to pack it around Jim to keep him as cold as possible. It would be easier to do if I didn’t have to keep the fire so hot because of how deep the snow is and those things stalking about at night.

December 24, 1879

Third entry. I stopped to have lunch and rest for a while. My busted shoulder is hurting something fierce, and so are my joints. I am drinking a big cup of the willow bark tea, and I will have to wait for it to work before I can start again.

I cooked enough flesh and fry bread this morning that I have some left now for lunch. The spices help the taste more than I can say. It makes it far less distasteful until I think of what it is. I do my best to void that if I can, but those thoughts creep in no matter what I do.

Something strange happened this morning after I ate. I felt as if I had not eaten anything. I had even eaten more than I have been because of the work I need to do. I have been absolutely famished all day. I am hoping that will subside after I have lunch. If it doesn’t, I might need to force myself to eat more. I might feel that way because I am moving more and working harder than I have been. I hope that is why.

December 24, 1879

Fourth entry. I had to quit working for the day. My shoulder just won’t let me keep going today. Why does it never seem to fail? The weather finally cooperates, and my body won’t. Times like this make me remember how old I am and that I am no longer a young man.

I had another cup of willow tea and a bit of fry bread to eat. I hope that will help with the pain. I need sleep, and I will not get any unless this pain eases.

December 24, 1879

Fifth entry. Jim woke me up. He once again came to me in my dreams. He was his usual self, hounding me about needing to eat and take care of myself. That lasted quite a while. We talked and joked like we always did. Then he changed.

I watched as his skin became gray and pulled tight across his bones. His lips were ragged and drawn against his teeth. He looked as if he had lost all of his muscle. He was nearly a skeleton with skin on it.

It was not only his appearance that changed. He was no longer my brother. He said vile and nasty things to me and began to moan and shriek in ways that no human can. I don’t want to think about why I am having these dreams. I only wish they would stop. I enjoy Jim coming to me in sleep, but not the monster he becomes or that pretends to be him.

December 25, 1879

It is Christmas Day. This used to be one of my favorite days. Now, it is just empty and lonely. No matter how hot I make the fire today, I still feel cold, as if my bones are made of ice. Perhaps that is the isolation and loneliness reaching my soul.

Sarah, my love, you were the reason I loved Christmas so much. The way your face would light up at the sight of decorations and when I would give you your gifts. You were always happy, even in lean times when I could only give you one little gift that I made because we had no money. You never complained. You knew that it always came from a place of love.

I remember our last Christmas together. You were carrying our sweet Timothy. I had never seen you so beautiful. I had bought you those two dresses. One that you could wear then, and one for after you delivered our precious baby boy. You had to stop what we were doing and put on that new dress right then. I remember how your eyes shined when you wore that color of blue. They were like two sapphires. I think that was the last time I was truly happy. It was only a short few weeks later when I lost you both.

My shoulder feels a little better today, so it will be another workday for me with no celebration, which agrees with me. I have nothing to celebrate. I know I am supposed to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ on this day. That seems pointless to me. I don’t feel much like celebrating someone who abandoned me many years ago. This year, even more so.

I need to eat and have more willow bark tea before I start on the snow. I am trying to make my flour last, so I will only make a little fry bread for each meal and eat more flesh. The thought is repulsive, but there is no choice. To keep my promise, I have to.

December 25, 1879

Second entry. I ate, and I still feel hungry. Even while I was eating, I felt more ravenous with every bite I took. Maybe this is my punishment for not celebrating Christmas today. Perhaps, Jim was right when he talked about the wendigo.

Sarah, my love, what Jim told me about the wendigo I was able to disregard, but now, I question if he was telling me the truth. I was not sure I wanted to recount what he told me. Now, I am sure that I need to tell what he said.

Jim said that the wendigo is an evil spirit that takes over a person when they eat human flesh. He told me that when it takes hold of you, you change. You crave the flesh more with each bite you take. You are never satiated, no matter how much you consume. As you keep eating, you grow in size yet become thin and emaciated, gluttonous yet ravenous. Your skin becomes pale and ashen, then gray. You become inhuman over time as the wendigo fully takes hold of you.

Sarah, I had not thought much about it when Jim had told me that story, but now I do. What if he was telling the truth, and that is my destiny now? What if I am to become a monster? Yet Jim comes to me in my dreams and tells me to not worry about that. Do I trust him now? I have always trusted him, and he has taken care of me since the day we met. I am so confused.

I am exhausted. The pain I have is keeping me from resting even when I sleep. Maybe I should not work today. Sleeping today might be the best idea for me. If I take a break for the day, hopefully, I will feel better tomorrow.

December 25, 1879

Third entry. Pain and hunger woke me. I am cooking more flesh as I drink willow bark tea to help ease the pain. I am hurting all over. My busted shoulder is the worst, but everything hurts. My joints and hands are so bad I can barely hold my cup of tea. If this is God’s way of punishing me, I wish he would end me and get it over with.

I can smell the flesh cooking. It repulses me, yet I crave it. Why do I want it so? Am I losing my mind? Going mad because of my situation? I have seen men go crazy for far less.

Oh, Sarah, what a sad excuse for a holiday today is. I love you, and I miss you. I love and miss our baby boy even though he never took a single breath. I can still see his perfect face as I held him in my arm and your hand in mine as you slipped away from me.

I know the pain and fatigue are making me more melancholy than I would typically be. After I eat, I will drink more willow bark tea and try to sleep more. I need to find relief soon, or I fear I will not make it long enough to dig us out of this cabin.

December 25, 1879

Fourth entry. I slept for several hours and awoke in less pain. I cannot express the relief I have for receiving a break from the pain and fatigue. I have never felt anything like it. Even my bones were tired. Maybe everything that has happened since the first is finally catching up to me. Lord knows it has been more than ten men would go through in that length of time.

I ate and had more willow tea when I woke up. This time I feel full from my meal. The melancholy must be the problem or at least part of it. Knowing that will make me better able to deal with it.

Sarah, my dear, I remember how your death affected me. Losing Jim and my injured shoulder are affecting me nearly the same. I never would have thought I would be going through all of this again. As I sit here, my heart aches, and I feel empty.

I think I will try to bring in more firewood now that I feel a little better. I need to bring in more snow to pack around Jim anyway. I also need to bring some snow in to melt for drinking water. I am going through a lot of water making this confounded tea. At least it helps ease the pain some.

December 25, 1879

Fifth entry. I worked until I tired out, and it was nearly dark. I began to hear noises from deep in the forest that I have never heard before. I wish I knew what it was. It would put my mind at ease if I could identify the animal making that racket. If it is an animal. It must be an animal.

This season there have been so many strange things in the forest that I have never seen or heard before. I have so many questions about what they are, where they came from, and why they are here. I doubt any of them will be answered any time soon. I find it strange that it all started happening after Jim came here. It is like they were drawn to him. Maybe it is because of his connection his people have to the land.

That thing is stomping toward the cabin again. I can feel it getting closer. I have secured the door, and I will add more wood to the fire to heat the stovepipe. That will at least keep it from messing with the pipe, which is one of the things that is keeping me alive.

December 25, 1879

Sixth entry. In the silence of this place, I can hear that abomination breathing at the top of the door as if it is on the roof looking over the edge at the doorway. I can feel it waiting for me to open the door so it can grab me. I should be safe in this cabin, yet I feel like I am being hunted by something.

I am sitting here as quietly as I can. I don’t even want to breathe. I feel like if it hears me, it will tear its way into this cabin after us. Even though I have my rifle, I doubt it would do any good in defending us against that thing.

December 26, 1879

I woke up famished this morning. I am going to claim that is because of all the work I did yesterday and going to bed without eating. I do not want to give that silly wendigo legend any more life than it already has. I have moments of weakness when I think it might be true, but I know it is all hogwash. Nothing like that has ever existed, and it never will.

I slept reasonably well last night. I woke up and felt rested for a change. I am still hurting, but not like I was yesterday. It looks like I was right about simply needing more rest.

My breakfast is almost finished cooking. After I eat, I will get back to work on the snow. I am only working with one arm, but I am making fairly good time with getting the steps dug out and packed. It is slower than when Jim was doing it. Then again, I would still be slower than Jim, even with two good arms. That man worked circles around me.

December 26, 1879

Second entry. I had to stop and rest. If things continue the way they are, I might be able to get us out of here in the next couple of days. That thought is such a relief and weight off of me. That also means I will be able to hunt and get more food.

I do not want to admit that the flesh has become more tolerable to me. I no longer mind the taste the way I did. Perhaps it is the spices that Jim told me about in my dream. Maybe I have just become used to the unusual flavor. The reason does not really matter as long as I am able to eat it and keep up my strength until I get out of here.

I am cooking more flesh now, and I am drinking the willow bark tea as I wait. I do not understand how I now find the flesh tolerable, and yet the tea is still so awful tasting to me. I have been drinking the tea for much longer and consuming it far more often than the repugnant flesh.

December 26, 1879

Third entry. I think God might finally be smiling on me. I am still making good time and what sky I can see is a bright, clear blue. If this weather holds, I might be able to at least haul myself out of here and set some traps and snares. The thought of a rabbit fills me with ecstasy. That is something I would have never thought.

As I sit here resting for a moment, I look at my hands, and they don’t look right. The color is off. They are very pale, even gray-tinged. My busted arm is still not working the way it should, but the other one is. It is not the cold causing it. If it were, I would feel it, and I’m not.

I have also lost weight. I am not surprised at that. I have not been eating much for nearly a month. I expect to lose a lot more weight by the time the spring thaw hits. I will be able to slow down the weight loss if I can get out and get some game of some kind.

December 26, 1879

Fourth entry. I have had to stop work on the snow and firewood for now, maybe for the rest of the day. I was prying at a stick of wood, and it came loose with two others. One of them hit me hard in the leg right at my knee. It is swelling up and turning blue. This was the last thing I needed to have happen now.

After I rest a little, I will cut off a big piece of flesh and cook it, so I don’t have to worry about cooking as often. I think I will start cutting a large hunk and cooking it in the morning so I don’t have to cook during the day. That should give me more time to rest when I am not working.

My sweet Sarah, I was thinking of you as I dug firewood out of the snow. I remembered the snowstorm that came our first winter together. I remember I had to dig our firewood out of the snow then, too. That two feet of snow was nothing like this but doing it now made that memory pop into my head.

I miss you, Sarah. You have no idea how much I still love you and our Timothy. There have been times in the last month that have made me wish I would leave this world so I can be with you both again. I would trade places with Jim in a heartbeat if I could, just to be with you again, even if it were only for a moment.

December 26, 1879

Fifth entry. I cooked a good pound of flesh. I devoured it all in one sitting, and I am starving. I feel like I have not eaten in days. Why? Why is this happening? I should be full and satisfied. Even gorged like a tick after eating that much, and yet I am famished. I do not understand.

I have more flesh cooking now. I hope that I feel this way because of all my work and merely working up an appetite. I am going to have a little fry bread with it. That seemed to help the last time I felt like this.

December 26, 1879

Sixth entry. I woke up to the sound of something screeching outside the cabin. It is another sound I do not recall ever hearing before. Why are these things attracted to this place? Not only the forest but to my tiny cabin. To what was my refuge.

Between the noise and my growling stomach, I have given up on sleep. I sit here and think about food and escaping this place. Food and the need to eat more is almost all consuming of my thoughts tonight. I just do not understand it.

The wendigo keeps invading my thoughts as well. The insatiable need for human flesh that it has. I think there is a better chance I am losing my mind than turning into a wendigo. Honestly, as I sit here and think, it could be either one.

The screeching has subsided for now. I am going to lie down and rest. Sleep might not come, but I can at least rest my weary bones in my bed. This silence in the cabin is deafening when I try to sleep. I had become so accustomed to hearing Jim breathe, that now, with that sound being gone, I have even more difficulty sleeping. It doesn’t matter. I still have to try.

Sara marked her place and closed the book. Her mind was racing over what she had read in the journal. Her emotions bounced from sadness as she read about Herschel’s late wife and son and the pain he still carried to worry at the prospect of Herschel losing his mind. Herschel was so divided between the thought of becoming a wendigo after being forced to cannibalize his friend and knowing he might be going insane. Sara tried to put herself in his place and felt nauseous at the thought.