Wendigo

Chapter 3

The sharp c***k of thunder startled Sara awake as it shook the cabin. She could hear the rain pelting the roof and walls as it whipped in the whistling wind. She winced as she rolled over to try to go back to sleep. When she was on her side, she caught a glimpse of something that had not been there earlier. The journal she had found and placed on the table was now on the floor beside her.

Sara grabbed her flashlight as she sat bolt upright and began shining it around the tiny cabin. The door was still tightly closed and barricaded with the chair she had used. Nothing was out of place except the journal; she was still alone.

Sara’s heart was pounding, and she was now wide awake with no hope of more sleep. She began to run things through her head, and she was absolutely positive that the journal had been on the table when she had gone to bed. There was no logical explanation for how it ended up beside her sleeping bag.

She sat staring at the book for a few minutes before finally leaving her sleeping bag. She stood, studying the journal, eventually picking it up. Startled, Sara threw the book onto the table, looking around wide-eyed. The journal felt warm to her touch as if someone had been holding it before she picked it up.

“Herschel?” Sara questioned with a wavering voice. “Are you trying to tell me to read what you wrote?”

The sound of something shifting on one of the shelves made Sara jump and turn suddenly, sending pain shooting through her side and back, causing her to drop to her knees.

“Stupid deer,” Sara sputtered. “I think I’ll take up hunting just for you.”

Sara inched her way off the floor and onto the chair at the table. She lit the candle and then checked the time on her phone. It read three-thirty in the morning. Sara let out an involuntary groan as she took a bite of trail mix and opened the bottle of pain medication. When she picked up her last bottle of water, she groaned again. The bottle was less than half full. That meant she would need to collect water in some way that would not injure her further.

“Well, if I’m going to be awake, I might as well have breakfast and start reading,” Sara muttered.

She gingerly stood and took her pot of leftovers to where her camp stove was set up. When the lasagna was heating, she returned to the table, sat down, and opened the journal. In the faint light of the candle and dimming lightstick in the corner, it was difficult to read the faded script. She pulled another lightstick from her pack, broke it, and shook it to activate the light. She squinted at the brightness, wrinkling her nose, as it made her eyes water and head pound.

Sara used her flashlight to look around the cabin, trying to find a place to hang the chemical light so it would illuminate the entire building. After a few minutes of searching, she saw a small metal hook embedded in the center of the ceiling and a few along the walls. Sara quickly ran a piece of paracord through the end of the light stick, fashioned a slip knot, and hung it from the ceiling hook. She was pleasantly surprised at it being similar to a sixty-watt light bulb in intensity and effect.

Sara smiled and said, “Good thing I packed a lot of those.”

Sara’s leg was starting to throb after standing only a couple of minutes. She looked at the second chair being used to barricade the door. She needed to elevate her leg, and that chair or the table were the only options. She used another piece of paracord to lash the door to a hook beside it. From the location, she assumed that is why the hook was secured into the wall. When she finished, she pulled the chair over to the table, positioned it so that she could sit at the table, and prop her leg on the second chair. That was just what she needed to get comfortable and start reading the journal.

Sara sat with the book on the table in front of her. She was conflicted about reading it. That journal contained the private thoughts and information of a complete stranger. She had already invaded his home and looked through his meager belongings. Now, she was contemplating intruding into what could be the most personal thing she had ever read. Despite the conflict, Sara’s curiosity about the man, Herschel Allen, won out. She opened the fragile old journal and began to read.

September 21, 1879

Winter is setting in early this year. We set our trap lines yesterday and woke up to find them all buried under a foot of snow. Each trap we were able to find and dig out of the snow was empty. This year is not starting off well. To make enough for the rest of the year, we need those traps to catch what they are set for. At least this year, I am not alone in my endeavors.

The partner I took on, Jim Smith, has been a great asset, even though we have only just begun. Being Ojibwa, he knows this area and knows very well how to look for signs, hunt, and trap. He is a good man, and I feel he will be a good friend.

Sara paused in her reading and looked toward the back of the cabin, where she believed beds had been on either side of the old, rusted cast-iron stove. She could almost picture the two men lying in their beds sleeping. She smiled a little as she went back to the journal.

September 26, 1879

Today was a better day. We had something in every trap we set. Jim took the lead and set them yesterday, saying he knew what he was doing. Sure enough, he did. If this good fortune continues, we will be set for the next year. The snow that fell a few days ago has almost melted now. Thankfully, it just seemed to be a spit of snow and not here to stay yet.

Jim has been helping the time pass for me by telling me stories. Some of what he tells are things he did while he was still with his tribe and the things that his family has done over the years. Other stories are the legends that his people tell.

He told me one today about something he calls a mishipeshu or something like that. It is a big cat that lives in the water. It grabs people, pulls them under, and drowns them. He said it lives in the deepest parts of lakes and rivers and even guards their copper mines. It is one of the strangest things I have ever heard of. Even though it is, I can hardly wait for Jim to tell me more stories like that one.

I wish you were here, Sarah. You would like Jim, and I know without a doubt that he would adore you. You would enjoy his stories, and I know he would enjoy telling them to you.

Sara’s heart skipped a beat when she reached the end of the passage. She needed to know who Sarah was. She thought of the picture of the young bride she had found in the metal box.

October 1, 1879

The snow came again today. Working the trap lines was not an easy task. Every trap was buried. At least most had something in them this time. Jim seems to think this snow is just the start and that we will be getting a lot more soon. I hope he is wrong. I have never thought of myself as old, but today I felt every year of my age. The snow and cold made me hurt to the bone. The one solace I had was knowing this cabin and a warm stove were waiting for me. They are nothing compared to the warmth I felt when you waited for me, my dear Sarah, but they have to do. After I warm a bit more, me and Jim are going to split more wood and bring as much as we can into the cabin. The cedar logs keep the heat in well, which is a Godsend. I would not be able to do this another year if I had not built this cabin.

Sara got up from the table to remove her pot of lasagna from her camp stove. The questions she had about the Sarah in the journal were gnawing at her as she brought the steaming pot to the table and sat down again, letting her food cool as she returned to reading.

October 3, 1879

The snow is over knee-deep now. It has been falling off and on for the past three days. I worry if I will be able to last the whole winter here. I have never questioned it before. However, today, I had difficulty making it back to the cabin after we ran our trap lines. The pain my joints are causing me is making everything worse than it should be.

Jim made me drink some willow bark tea. The taste is vile, but it does help with the pain. He said he will go out and gather more willow soon to ensure that I can have the tea several times a day. He says his tribe has been using it for generations to help with a myriad of things, including arthritis and rheumatism. Some might call him a savage. I can attest that he is far more civilized than most educated men I know. I have no doubt that I can trust him with my life as he can trust me with his.

Sara placed the wrapper from her light stick in the journal to mark her place before closing it and pushing it to the side so she could eat. She found herself smiling as she thought of the comfort that willow bark tea brought Herschel. The tea contained the same chemicals as aspirin and would help his pain greatly. She found comfort that he was not alone and that Jim was taking care of him.

A thump and scraping sound on the side of the cabin caused Sara to jump and brought her out of her train of thought. The sounds continued along the side of the building until they were near the front corner. Sara’s heart was pounding as she stood and made her way to the door to listen more closely. After hearing nothing, she quietly untied the cord securing the door and opened it a c***k.

The morning's twilight was starting to show through the heavy clouds and rain that continued to pelt the forest. Sara peeked out the c***k in the door and saw the tip of an antler moving beside the cabin.

“Are you freaking kidding me?!” Sara exclaimed. “Ted? Is that you?”

She was greeted by the familiar snort of the white-tail buck that had been following her and was responsible for both her injuries and the discovery of the cabin. Sara shook her head as she closed the door and securely tied it shut again.

Sara made her way back to the table, dropped into the chair, and looked at her nearly empty water bottle. She checked the bandage on her leg and saw blood beginning to stain the gauze. Sara pulled the first aid kit out of her pack and changed the dressing as she thought of a way to collect more water without trying to hike to the stream the map showed was nearby. By the time she finished taking care of the laceration to her leg, she had come up with a plan to use her tarp to catch the rain and funnel it into a pot. The large cast iron Dutch oven that was sitting on the shelf would be perfect for water collection.

Before she went back to her breakfast or reading the journal, Sara took the dutch oven from the shelf and sat it outside in the rain to help clean it before she used it to collect water. When she did, she again caught sight of the deer skulking around in the undergrowth near the cabin. The deer was starting to both confuse and concern her with its actions.

Sara went back inside and began to wolf down her leftovers from dinner. As she did, she picked up her phone and saw the battery was almost dead. She had forgotten to plug it into a battery pack before going to bed the night before. She dug a charging pack out of her backpack and plugged it in before texting her husband, letting him know she was okay and that she needed to charge her phone before she called him. She also needed to finish eating and start collecting water before that call was made.