Chapter 13.2

December 19, 1879

I once again lost all progress I had made in my attempts to leave this cabin. The winds packed the snow tight against the door. It is so hard that I will have to chisel the snow out in chunks. The one good part of that is that I might be able to clear an opening in the snow above the door and then throw these lumps of snow out and away from the cabin. 

If the snow is nice and solid, it will not be blowing around and covering up the work I do. This might be our saving grace and allow us to escape the blasted cabin. I am going to have a bit of breakfast and then get to work. 

December 19, 1879

Second entry. I broke through the top of the snow to see enormous flakes falling. They are the size of the palm of my hand. They will pile up quickly, and it could mean several feet of new snow. If that happens, there will be absolutely no digging out of here. 

I am almost entirely out of firewood inside this place. I have to dig out the wood beside the cabin. At least with that, I can start right beside the door and work out a piece at a time until I have enough inside and drying to last for a while. That will also help me dig out the doorway and maybe even get out of here.

December 19, 1879

Third entry. I am only able to get a few sticks of wood loose and inside before I have to rest. The weight of the snow is much more than I had expected. It is hard work, and I must eat to keep up my strength to do it. The pot of soup I have on the stove might last until tomorrow if I continue to eat it sparingly. After that, if I cannot get us out of here, I must resort to the unthinkable.

My dear Sarah, how do I commit such an atrocity? I know I was told to do it, yet I am not sure I will be able to bring myself to commit such an act. I have no doubt that you would want me to do anything necessary to survive, the same as Jim told me. I want to stay to carry out the last promise I made to Jim and bury him the way he asked. The mere thought of what I may have to do makes me wretch, so I am not sure how I will be able to do it.

December 19, 1879

Fourth entry. The pain I am in is almost unbearable. While I was pulling a stick of firewood loose, I lost my footing and slammed my busted shoulder into the doorframe. The pain has eased a little, but it puts an end to my collecting wood for the rest of the day. 

I feel very defeated right now. Once again, I could see I was making a little progress, and then something happened to derail that. 

I will add some wood to the fire, drink some more willow bark tea, and then lie down. I hope I can get a little sleep, but to be honest, I will be happy if I can just lie still and rest for a while.

December 19, 1879

Fifth entry. I woke up to find the wind has picked up again. I can hear it blowing even with the thick blanket of snow. At least tonight, all I hear is the wind and not those abominable creatures outside.

My stomach is growling. That is the only time I will eat now. I have done my best to make the food last, but it is nearly gone. I have enough soup for the morning to have with fry bread. The bread is what I have been eating the most of. I have a piece of it and a few bites of the soup. 

Tomorrow will be the day I have to decide what I am going to do. That gives me another night to sleep on it and make that choice. I know what I should do, but I have that conflict about it. After tomorrow, I will not have much of a choice. I either do it, or I starve.

December 20, 1879

I made fry bread this morning and had a few bites of soup. I still have enough soup to go with the leftover bread for lunch. That will be the end of it. Later today, I have to prepare to cut some meat off my brother. Even if I have to wait for the snow to melt, I still need to be alive to bury him as I promised. 

The thought of butchering and preparing another human being as if they are an animal is an utterly repugnant thought no matter the circumstances. It is something that had never crossed my mind before. I feel like a criminal for thinking of it now.

I have been keeping snow packed on and around Jim. My thought is that it will keep him in a better state if I can keep him as cold as possible. I have seen cold used before to help preserve someone until they could be buried. I pray it works now.

December 20, 1879

Second entry. I cut a small piece of flesh from Jim’s thigh, gagging the entire time I cut. The stench of the blood was so pungent it was nearly overpowering.  I put the flesh in a pot filled with snow to keep it usable until I cook it. I don’t know when that will be.

I sit here staring at the pot, repulsed by what is in it and what I have done. The more I think about it, the more I wish the wendigo is real and that it would come and take me before I am forced to eat a single bite. I know that if I take even one bite, it will make me a monster. It will not take an evil entity to do that. 

December 20, 1879

Third entry. I cooked the meat. It is sitting on my plate here on the table in front of me. I am eating the fry bread and looking at it while I write this. 

My Sarah, I know what I must do, yet I cannot bear the thought at this moment. Perhaps if I am hungrier, I will be able to force myself to do it. 

I think of you and think about how being with you and our precious Timothy is all I truly want in this life. That is all I have ever wanted, for us to be a family. If not here, it will be when we are again together in Heaven. That is where I know the both of you are. I am not sure that is where I will go, but I hope God will forgive me for what I have done and what I may be forced to do now.

December 20, 1879

Fourth entry. I woke up with a start. Jim came to me in my dream and yelled at me. He scolded me for not eating the flesh yet and for wanting to give up. He told me that I am being foolish for not doing what I have to do to make it out of this cabin alive. He reminded me that I promised to bury him as soon as I could. I told him I would keep my promise.

The strangest part of all of it is, I do not even remember falling asleep or even being very tired. I feel like Jim’s spirit is here in this cabin watching over me. I’m sure he is also laughing at me quite often. 

December 20, 1879

Fifth entry. I did what Jim told me to do. I ate the flesh. I had to put little bits of it with big bites of fry bread to be able to do it. It was vile, a horrible taste. It was strong, like chewing on a copper penny, along with the flavor of meat. It is not anything that I will ever have a taste for. I have eaten many things over the years, and this is like nothing I have ever tasted before and something I wish I had never tasted. I dread needing to do this again and again until I can clear enough snow to get out of this place, or worse, until the snow melts. 

Sarah, I cannot tell you how much I wish that Jim and I could trade places. I would be with you, and he would be strong enough to do what needs to be done here. I still feel guilty about his death, and I think I always will. 

I am going to bed for now. I have to tend the fire first to make sure it lasts the night. At least tonight, I don’t hear those creatures battling outside the cabin. It would be asking too much for them to have killed each other in battle. I am sure they will be back eventually.

Sara sat thinking about what she had just read. She had read descriptions of what human flesh tasted like from people who were forced to consume it to survive and criminals. The description Herschel gave was similar to many she had read.

She glanced at a bag of beef jerky sitting on the table near her. Her stomach instantly turned, and she began salivating as she tried to keep her trail mix down. She had no doubt that meat would be excluded from her diet for some time to come.