Ghosts of Manitowish Waters

by G. M. Moore

  Cain harrumphed at the peacefulness of the camp. The men carried on as if they hadn’t a care in the world. No one stood watch. No one stood guard. Of course not, he snorted. Why would they? The remote camp was accessible only by ATV, the main road miles away. One rugged, overgrown path was the only way in or out. They don’t think they have anything—or anyone—to worry about he thought, then smiled slyly. But they’re wrong.

  The wind picked up, carrying a sharp chill through the dark woods that hid Cain from view, but he didn’t feel it. Nerves kept his internal radiator running on high. An oversized black hoodie covered his head and face, showing only high cheekbones flushed red with color and breath that floated out like smoke with every anxious exhale. He had been restlessly watching the camp waiting for an opportunity to sneak in, snatch the fawn, and get out of there—quick. He had his ATV hidden in the woods just off the path about a half-mile away. Once the camp cleared, he’d sneak in for the fawn and then run like hell for the ATV. That was the plan, but with those men lingering outside he couldn’t do anything but stay hidden in the woods and wait for his chance.

  Then, unexpectedly, the young poacher he and Tess had seen earlier burst out the cabin’s front door, shouting as he bound down the stairs. Cain’s body tensed with anticipation. This could be his chance. His gaze intensified as he scanned the camp, watching the poachers—all of them—drop what they were doing and move with what looked like urgency. One of the men went into the main cabin while the other three hopped on ATVs. The hum of revving engines echoed back to the teen and, within seconds, Cain watched the vehicles speed away, leaving only flying dirt behind.

  The camp was finally empty.

  Cain took a long, deep breath and closed his eyes. This is it, he told himself, puffing the breath out in one quick exhale. He reached under the collar of his hoodie and his eyes flew open as he felt his bare neck.

  The Megis necklace was gone!

  Cain patted his chest and back, frantically searching for it as questions fired through his mind: How? When? Where? He quickly scanned the ground, pushing at the moist leaves, acorns, and twigs, hoping—praying—he’d spy one of the white shells, but he saw nothing.

  Cain moaned, throwing his head back in silent anguish. The Ojibwe, especially members of the Midewiwin, revered Megis shells. They were sacred. My we-eh is going to kill me, he whined as he continued to search the ground. Cain wasn’t 100 percent sure he believed all the Indian lore his godfather preached, but he wanted to know it, to learn it. His father was Ojibwe, but his mother was not. To please her, his father had turned from the Indian ways shortly after Cain’s birth and name-giving ceremony where his we-eh was chosen. His father started climbing the corporate ladder and never looked back. Unknown to Cain and his parents, his we-eh had been watching and waiting. As soon as Cain turned eleven, the old Mide made himself known and would not be turned away. Cain’s mother didn’t like that her son even had a we-eh, much less that Cain now spent every free minute with him. Neither one of his parents understood how lost Cain felt. Maybe everything would change after high school, but within those confining walls he didn’t fit in anywhere, with anyone. He was a half-breed, and as soon as he was old enough to understand what that meant he made it his mission to know everything he could about his Ojibwe heritage—whether his parents liked it or not.

  The Megis necklace was supposed to help Cain on his journey—to guide him and protect him. Whether he believed in its powers completely or not, losing it couldn’t be a good thing. He was certain of that. It’s probably some sort of bad omen, a sign my journey is cursed or something, Cain groaned as he patted himself down again. Dejected, the teen dropped his head, silently scolding himself when the necklace still did not surface.

  Cain slowly glanced over his shoulder at the empty camp. He knew he couldn’t blow this chance. Necklace or no necklace, he had to move—now. OK. OK, OK, he chanted, gathering his nerve. Then, with one resolute nod, he pushed off the oak and into a staggered run through the woods. The hood of his sweatshirt slipped back and off his head as he made his way to the camp’s edge, hurdling over fallen trees and slipping through tangled branches as he went. He stopped, resting his hands on his knees, a few yards from the rickety, plank shed where the albino fawn was being held. Eagle-eyed, the seventeen-year-old scanned the camp and the surrounding woods. He saw no one. He searched the windows of the main cabin. No movement there. He cocked his head, straining to hear the hum of an engine, but instead heard only the twitter of birds. All clear, he thought. Cain lowered his head and stared at the ground for a moment. This is it. I either go for it now or turn back. Without another thought, Cain lifted his head and sprinted toward the shed.

  When he reached the structure, Cain crouched low and slowly crept along a sidewall to the front. He paused at the corner, searching the grounds again, before moving quickly to the door and slipping quietly inside. He found himself standing among stacks of firewood streaked with rays of fading sunlight that seeped in through cracks in the wood plank walls. Cain stood still, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, when a ghostly white blur suddenly shot across the room. He quickly took a step back toward the door, slipped on something squishy, and landed butt first on the floor. He waited, his body on alert, until a tiny white fawn not more than two feet tall came into focus. Cain breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled. The very thing he had come to rescue had spooked him. What a hero I am, he scoffed, then groaned as he realized he had slipped on deer poop.

  The fawn studied Cain, its ears twitching nervously. Then it cocked its head to one side as if in doubt.

  “I know, I know,” Cain whispered apologetically, pushing up to his knees and brushing off his backside.“But I’m all you’ve got.”

  Not wanting to frighten the animal as it had frightened him, Cain slowly leaned forward. He reached out one hand, moving it steadily closer to the fawn. A surprised smile lit up his face when the deer suddenly pranced in place, sniffed, then licked his outstretched hand. Cain muttered in astonishment. It was as if the animal knew why he was there. Mindful of the animal’s now bandaged wound, the teen gently scooped the fawn up in his arms and tucked him under his oversized sweatshirt. The fawn struggled briefly in Cain’s grip before finding the sweatshirt’s collar opening and pushing his head through it. The animal’s cold, wet nose hit Cain in the chin as the sweatshirt’s already frayed seams popped and ripped wider.

  “Nice. We good now?” Cain asked as the fidgeting fawn finally settled in, its head coming to rest on his shoulder.

  Cain slowly opened the shed door just a crack and peeked out. The poacher camp was still quiet. He had only one thing to worry about: the man up in the main cabin. If he spotted Cain, it was all over. With eyes constantly scanning the building for movement, Cain slipped out the door. He turned the corner, quickly and quietly retracing his path along the sidewall, and in less than a minute disappeared into the surrounding woods.

  Heart pounding, Cain raced through the woods with the fawn tucked under his sweatshirt and nestled in his arms. He thought of nothing but making it to the ATV he had hidden for his getaway. Branches slashed at his face and thorny brush snagged his clothes as he ran. A misty drizzle began to fall making the forest floor slick, but Cain never slowed, never looked back. With no arms for balance, roots became his enemy. Their knotted snares threatened to send him careening to the ground at every step. But still he did not stop. Finally, seven minutes into his run, he spotted the ATV. His heart leaped. He had made it, but he knew he wasn’t home free yet.

  Cain saw only a blur of bark and evergreen needles as he made his final sprint to the ATV. He had it ready and rigged to transport the fawn with a lidded wicker basket filled with straw and an old blanket attached to the rear rack. At the moment, the basket also held his helmet, but he didn’t think to bother with that now; his nerves were too frayed, his mind too focused on getting out of there. He hurriedly placed the small fawn in the rect
angular basket, tucked him in tight with the blanket, and closed the attached lid. He grabbed the ATV’s handlebars, dug his feet into the ground, and pushed until the vehicle began to move. He steered it out of its hiding place, struggling against its weight as he guided it through the clustered woods. As soon as the vehicle’s grill met the path out, Cain mounted the seat with one hop and fired up the engine. He stood for a moment as the engine revved, looking left and right down the path, before hitting the gas and taking off.

  As Cain sped away, the tension that held his mind and body in a vise grip slowly eased. He grinned smugly as the ATV bumped and jerked its way along the path. His rescue plan had come off without a hitch. His we-eh would be proud—despite the lost necklace. Cain smiled at the thought, but then the smile thinned and his face turned forlorn. His godfather had dreamed about a journey at Cain’s birth and had given him the spirit name Maadaadizi, meaning he starts a journey, because of that dream. This was the journey he had been told about and anticipating since his eleventh birthday. Cain didn’t know it until just then, but on some level he had believed in all the ancient stories. This was his test by the spirits, his calling, and now that it was almost over, he was a little disappointed.

  This can’t be all it is, he thought. This can’t be all that the spirits want. There has to be more.

  The ATV hit a smooth patch and picked up speed. The early evening wind whipped through his dark hair, now damp from rain, as he struggled to make sense of it all. He had thought there would be more to his great journey: more excitement, more danger, more something. But what else could there be? Once he reached the main ATV trail—and he’d be there soon—all he had to do was make his way back home. The ATV trail system covered a large area, and chances of him running into any of the poachers were slim. Plus, with the rain and fading light, he needed to get out of the woods as soon as possible and use the main roads instead. Getting back to his godfather would be much safer and easier that way.

  Easier, he thought, perplexed. That’s just it. This is too easy. Uncertainty plaguing him, Cain glanced over his shoulder half expecting to see the one poacher he’d left back at the camp in hot pursuit; instead, he saw the pink nose and red eyes of the albino fawn peering at him from over the top of the basket. Cute little—the ATV suddenly bucked sharply, stopping Cain’s thoughts short and throwing him forward. His hands flew from the handlebars as he flipped over the front grill. The ground came at him quickly, and with one thud everything blurred, then faded into darkness.

  ****

  Out on the main ATV trail, about two miles from the poacher camp, Tess was having doubts of her own. The fifteen-year-old, under the cover of a green rain poncho, sat parked atop an ATV, searching the surrounding woods and path ahead for a sign that she was headed in the right direction. She was an experienced four-wheeler; she had either ridden or driven them with her father for as long as she could remember. He had taught her well, and she was confident in her ability to ride, but she was a long way from home with no real idea of where she was going. This was the Rocky Ridge Trail—Tess was sure of that, but that was all she was sure of.

  “What was I thinking?” she mused when her search of the area came up empty.

  She was familiar with the ATV and snowmobile trail system. But not in the dark, she reminded herself, peering apprehensively into woods already dim and shadowy. Her father had lectured her many times on the dangers of getting lost and here she was most likely about to do just that.

  I am going to be in soooo much trouble for this.

  She quickly pushed the thought way. It was too late to worry about that now. Tess turned her face up to the treetops. “Where is that eagle when I need him?” she quipped aloud.

  Then she saw it, a rocky outcropping framed against the hazy gray sky by a grouping of pine trees. The sand stone bluff was there plain as day, looming ahead like a grotesque tower. Her eyes narrowed, and she searched the sky half expecting to see an eagle glide by, but none appeared.

  Well, you wanted a sign, you got a sign, she told herself. The medicine man had said the path was near a bluff, and right there was a bluff. “OK, then,” she announced with resolve, gave the four-wheeler some gas, and headed in the direction of the bluff.

  A few minutes later she found herself at the mouth of an unmarked path. The ATV trail’s hard-packed soil already grooved with tread marks made it difficult to tell if anyone had used it recently or not. But here at the mouth of this path deep, sweeping grooves had kicked up a lot of fresh dirt. The tracks showed that a vehicle had recently skidded into the woods when making this turn.

  Maybe Cain? she thought. There was no way to be sure. Tess hesitated, uncertain of what to do next. If this was the path to the poacher camp, she now sat at the point of no return. As soon as she turned down the path, she was in it for better or for worse. The better would be finding and helping Cain, even though she knew he’d be less than pleased to see her. The worse would be finding the poachers. She had no idea what that would mean, but she did know what going home would mean: a face-off with a furious father. No, she thought. There’s no going back, not now. She felt a drop of rain on her face and held a hand out into the openness of the path.

  “Awwwww, seriously,” she griped, as drizzle wetted her outstretched hand.

  She pulled the poncho’s hood over the helmet on her head and tucked in the ends of her yellow plaid scarf and long hair before tightening and tying the hood’s drawstrings under her chin. Then, exhaling apprehensively, she turned the ATV onto the mouth of the path. Nerves knotting in her stomach, she leaned into the handlebars as if in pain as the four-wheeler slowly rolled forward.

  Tess thought about strategy as she crept along the bumpy trail. She knew she’d have to ditch the ATV soon; she couldn’t sneak into the poacher camp on it. Not a chance of that. She really didn’t want to leave the vehicle—it meant safety to her—but she didn’t see another alternative. She really, really didn’t want to risk annoying Cain or put him in jeopardy by steamrolling into camp like the cavalry or something. She needed to find a spot to stow the vehicle and have it ready for a quick escape, but that, Tess thought, was going to be difficult. This path was very narrow, just wide enough for one four-wheeler to navigate. She flinched as a branch filled with wet pine needles swooshed across her face. And not very well maintained, she groaned. Then several yards into the woods, to Tess’s surprise, the trail widened and cleared. Just ahead she spotted the perfect place to pull the four-wheeler into the woods and hide it among a grouping of saplings and ferns.

  Tess made a half U-turn, then carefully began backing the vehicle off the path. She checked her progress, looking for obstacles over her left and right shoulders. Then, glancing down to the ground, right and—Tess inhaled sharply and squeezed the hand brake hard. She shut her eyes tightly as the ATV bucked up, and she kept them shut until the vehicle skidded to a stop. A pained grimace locked on her face as she opened one eye to look at the ground behind her. There, less than an inch from the rear tire, a metal spike stuck up about six inches out of the ground.

  Tess bowed her head and held it there a moment before opening both eyes and releasing her death grip on the break. When she lifted her head, Tess turned and studied the grassy path behind her. Her eyes fell to one spike, then another, then another. The teen shuddered. The path had been booby trapped. This spot was wider so four-wheelers could sweep to the outside, easily avoiding the trap. Easy if you knew there was a trap, Tess thought bitterly. She had heard of people setting booby traps to keep four-wheelers off private property. Some strung wires waist high across the path, some dug pits, and others, Tess now saw firsthand, laid crippling spikes. She looked uneasily down the misty path. She had no doubts now. This was definitely the path to poacherville. She needed to find Cain, and find him fast.

  Tess quickly maneuvered the ATV off the trail and safely into hiding before trudging her way through the wet woods. She stayed within a couple yards
of the path and under the cover of the spring foliage. The misty rain created a layer of fog across the forest floor and now, as far as Tess could see, what looked like steam rose from the ground. Shivering slightly, she moved deliberately and quietly through the woods until something on the path ahead caught her eye. She stopped short and dropped low, staying still for several minutes watching what she thought was another four-wheeler. She was too far away to make out what it was for sure, but she knew whatever it was, it wasn’t moving. A sense of foreboding swept over her as Tess crept closer to the object, arcing her path wider to flank it. As she closed in, she saw a lone ATV parked slightly askew on the path. That sense of foreboding grew stronger as she crept as close as she dared before quickly ducking under a group of felled trees. Under the cover of their branches, she studied the vehicle, her eyes sweeping the woods to the left and right. As her eyes moved back to the ATV they landed on something crumpled on the ground. Her brow wrinkled, then her eyes grew wide, and she stepped out of hiding.

  “Cain!” she cried out. She instantly knew it was him and, forgetting all caution, ran through the woods to his side. Tess dropped to her knees at his unmoving, twisted body. She hesitated for a moment before gently taking his shoulder and rolling him onto his back. As Cain’s head lolled toward her, she shrank back with a gasp, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

  Blood—a lot of it—oozed down the right side of his face.

  “Oh, no, no,” Tess cried, reaching out, then stopping, her hand hovering inches from his face. “Cain. Open your eyes. Come on.”