Chapter 17.1

Wendigo Chapter 17

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-part 1

Sara awoke with a start. She looked around frantically, feeling as if someone or something had hit her in the face. She 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 light stick 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 that 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 kept looking 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 nearly one hundred and 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 it 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 crack. 

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, 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. She 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 it 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 also by 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.

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