Heart of Ice

by Barbara Pietron

Chapter 11

  Mrs. Savoie's voice reverberated in Ice's head as he twisted the snowmobile's throttle and the machine jumped forward. "You're smarter than that." The words mocked him.

  He followed the trail behind the campground lodge which led to the lake's edge. Nik shifted on the seat behind him and Ice paused, making sure the medicine man was ready before they took off across the snow covered lake. From his vantage point, he could spot only one fishing shanty. A surge of trepidation burned in his chest—seasoned ice fishermen knew the lake conditions well.

  As Ice studied the panorama, a breeze scuttled across the lake, kicking up the top layer of snow and swirling it through the air like talcum powder. He liked to snowmobile, but he didn't own a machine and certainly wasn't an expert. If there were areas where the ice was likely to be the thinnest, he wasn't aware of them. To say he was nervous about being the driver was an understatement.

  The request had taken him off guard. They were in the back room of the campground lodge, donning their rented gear, when Nik asked Ice when he'd last driven a snowmobile. "About a month ago," Ice had said absently, stuffing his legs into snow pants.

  Accustomed to Nik taking the lead, Ice was stunned by his mentor's response. "You'd better drive then; it's been years for me." At the time, he was flattered by the man's unhesitant statement, but when they mounted the snowmobile, the gratification had been replaced by unease.

  Nik's gloved fist came into Ice's peripheral vision, the thumb pointing up. After giving the medicine man a second to replace his hand on the seat grip, Ice tweaked the gas and the machine slowly descended onto the frozen lake surface. A few yards from the shoreline, the path they were on disappeared in a mishmash of other tracks and windblown snow, so Ice blazed his own trail to Star Island.

  Because of the recent fluctuating temperatures, snow on the lake surface had melted and refrozen, leaving the terrain lumpy. Ice tried to maintain a speed of forty to forty-five miles per hour, but at times had to throttle back. The jarring vibrations of the roughest areas reminded him of driving over the washboard surface of a dirt road and he had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from slamming together. The wind gusted stronger out on the lake and Ice felt it push against them although little made it past his clothes.

  He'd been aiming at the southwestern tip of the island, but noticed a large area in his path where the frozen slush appeared banked. It may have once been a shoveled rink for ice skating or hockey, but Ice didn't like the looks of it so he adjusted his course. Avoiding the area completely, he didn’t pass close enough to determine what the site was.

  The ride didn't take long and Ice flexed his shoulders, feeling some of his tension ebb as they neared the shore of Star Island. Since they didn't know where Dale made landfall, Ice came in close to the southern shoreline and then cruised slowly, looking for fresh tracks leading off of the lake. The waterfront was populated with summer homes and Ice knew that under the snow, a nice strip of sandy beach lined the water's edge.

  Just as Nik tapped his shoulder and pointed, Ice also spied the telltale tread marks of a snowmobile which led ashore and between two homes. Rather than follow the trail, Ice passed the spot and continued to follow the shoreline. A few houses away, he cut in. He didn't know what Dale might be thinking, or if he'd be wary of followers, so Ice thought it best to proceed with caution.

  In the shelter between two houses, he stopped and flipped up the visor on his helmet. Nik did the same. "You think he's watching to see if anyone followed?"

  Ice shrugged. "Who knows? I thought there might be a chance. Do you think we should walk down there on foot? See which way he headed?"

  Nik looked at the nearly foot-deep snow and made a face. "Nah, let's just do a slow drive-by."

  Ice nodded and pushed his visor down. The roads on the island weren't cleared in winter, but the lack of trees and foliage marked their passage clearly. Furrows beneath the most recent snow showed where other snowmobilers had passed. Today, however, only one trail was fresh. Even though Ice's instincts told him to turn right and follow the new tracks, there was a slim chance they weren't made by the machine they sought, so Ice backtracked to the left.

  Four houses down, as he'd suspected, the path turned toward the water—it was the same track they'd seen as they passed by on the lake. Ice circled and was ready to accelerate back the way they'd come, when he felt Nik tap his shoulder. Twisting the throttle, he let the machine idle and reached for his visor, surprised when the medicine man dismounted.

  Nik examined the snowmobile tread leading in from the lake, poking a finger into the edge of the print, measuring the depth. Then he trudged to the back of their machine and stuck his finger in that track. He looked up at Ice. "The guy at Stony Point said the other snowmobile is identical to this one." Nik's raised visor exposed his eyes and nose, but Ice could see the lines of the man's frown extending from under his helmet. "But the track is roughly the same depth as ours."

  Ice at first didn't understand the older man's concern, thinking that if the machines were the same, of course their tracks would be the same, then he realized the significance of the medicine man's observation. Sure, the pattern would look identical, but the depth would vary by the amount of weight the machine carried. Dale's tracks should've been shallower than theirs. "So either it's not Dale, or he's carrying a heavy load," he concluded.

  "Or someone is with him," Nik added.

  Ice stared at his mentor, trying to fathom who Dale might take with him while avoiding the thought that they were following the wrong snowmobiler. Nik gazed back, his face void of expression, then swung his visor into place and climbed onto the seat behind Ice.

  Ice took off at a mild pace, increasing speed gradually as they followed the fresh tail. The road followed the slight curve of the shoreline until it bent to the left at the southeast point of Star Island. As they approached the turn, a patch of color against the stark white of the snow caught Ice's eye and he advanced toward it cautiously. Before he drew up to the dark area, he could see that a wide swath of the snow-covered path had been disturbed. Feeling the medicine man shift in his seat, Ice stopped.

  Nik was off the machine in seconds, padding back and forth to inspect the area. "Looks like the other snowmobile tipped on its side here. Maybe he took the corner going too fast."

  Ice dismounted to join the medicine man as he examined the stained snow. Thinking of the blood he'd found in his Jeep, he hunched down for a closer look at the dark red blotch. He swallowed hard.

  Nik crouched next to him. "It's too purple to be blood."

  "What?" Ice's brain still insisted the spot was blood and a slight wave of nausea came over him as Nik scooped some snow into his palm and held it up to his nose.

  The medicine man cocked an eyebrow. "Smells like wine."

  To align reality with what his mind had conjured, Ice forced himself to lean forward and smell the dark red snow melting on Nik's gloved palm.

  It smelled like wine. He groaned. "This is a goose-chase Nik. Dale wouldn't take time to somehow scrounge up a bottle of wine to bring with him."

  "It's our only lead. We might as well follow it."

  Ice didn't comment. He got back on the snowmobile and waited for Nik to get situated. The couple of clues they'd come across so far lowered the possibility that they'd find Dale at the end of this trek. At this point, a couple sneaking off for a winter picnic seemed much more plausible.

  As they continued along the east shore of the island, Ice watched for a sign indicating portage to Lake Windigo. A few years back a friend, Lucas, had invited Ice to spend the weekend at his family's summer place situated on the east side of the south shore. Ice and Lucas decided they wanted to canoe on Lake Windigo. He remembered they'd paddled around the point and up the east shore to portage to the smaller lake. Lucas told him that the southern portage was closer to the house, but a much longer walk to Lake Windigo. Paddling the canoe was far easier than carrying it.

  If they were following Dale, Ice stil
l thought Lake Windigo might be what brought him to the island. He throttled back when he guessed they may be getting close, watching for a change in the line of trees. Just as he started to ask himself how he could've missed it, an indent in the forest on his left came into view. Ice slowed, and when he saw the east portage sign he stopped.

  Snowmobile tread marks ran down the narrow path leading to Lake Windigo. When Ice turned his head to the right, to see if the tracks crossed to Cass Lake, the path was covered with snow. However, the snowmobile imprint also continued in front of them. He tweaked the throttle and inched a bit closer to where the trails intersected.

  Looking forward, he could now see that the route ahead was marked by two snowmobiles. He followed the lines pressed into the snow, checking the progress of their original trail. He decided the machine that turned down the east portage trail had come from the opposite direction they were now headed; their trail continued straight ahead.

  Keeping one eye on the correct tracks while the other searched the way ahead made the going a little slower. Finally, as they veered slightly eastward toward O'Neil's Point, the other track broke off and headed west.

  Their new bearing gave Ice an idea of why Dale might come this way and he felt a little more hopeful that they weren't wasting their time out here. The northeastern point of Star Island was once the site of an Ojibwe village. The remains of wild rice storage pits were still somewhat visible there.

  Ice and Dale had heard a few stories about Great Cloud's ancestor, Ozawindib (Yellow Head), who led Henry R. Schoolcraft to the source of the Mississippi River in nearby Lake Itasca. Ozawindib lived in a village on Star Island. Great Cloud described the place as a group of wigwams surrounding a grassy spot where councils, dances, and Midewiwin ceremonies were held. Perhaps Dale hoped to engage some of the latent spirituality of the place and contact a deceased relative for advice and assistance with the Windigo curse.

  Ice saw a sign for Camp Unistar, a Unitarian Universalist summer camp, and a few minutes later, the road ended at the camp. As they climbed to the top of an embankment, Ice spotted a snowmobile abandoned at the corner of a rustic wooden building. He advanced warily and then turned off his machine.

  Trampled snow spread out in an irregular shape, nearly ten feet wide. A few footprints were visible, but most of the area was packed down with spots that had been gouged out to the dirt beneath the snow.

  Ice pulled his helmet off and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "What the heck happened here?"

  Nik's face appeared as he too, removed his helmet. Lines marked the medicine man's forehead as he surveyed the scene.

  "Look Nik, you were right," Ice said, pointing at the ground. "There are two people." He moved to where Nik stood near their snowmobile and examined the older man's footprints. Then he went back to where he'd been before. He pointed to a boot print. "This looks similar to yours." Then he gestured a little to the left. "But this almost looks like a… a barefoot footprint." He squatted to investigate further.

  Nik joined Ice and bent to look over his apprentice's shoulder.

  "Ah crap…" Ice muttered, an arrow of fear spreading heat through his guts. "Is it just me?" he said, peering up at Nik, "or are these toes… with…" He didn't want to say it or think it.

  The medicine man stood. "With claws? Yes. Unfortunately, I see them too."

  Ice grimaced. The other snowmobile was a twin to the one he'd driven here. "So it must've been Dale and Nesbitt on this machine," he murmured.

  "That's what it looks like," Nik agreed grimly. "And they had some kind of scuffle here. What we don't know is, who won?"

  If a man is to do something more than human, he must have more than human powers.

  Native American Proverb