Wendigo

by Vaughn C. Hardacker

  Earl rubbed his throbbing arm and stared open-mouthed at his grandson. He realized that Dwain was right. He didn’t know who—or what—the boy had become. “Dwain, what has happened to you?”

  Dwain looked over his shoulder at Earl. “I got free.”

  “Free? We always let you do whatever you wanted, within reason anyways.”

  “Well, ain’t none of you got any say no more.”

  “Where you going?”

  “To him.”

  Before Earl could say anything more, Dwain left the cabin. Earl ran to the door and flung it open. Dwain was nowhere to be seen.

  52

  As John Bear slowly followed the tracks he was amazed at the vastness of the cave’s interior. He hadn’t known such a place existed in Maine. He passed by a small chamber on his left and heard a grunt in the darkness. His nose told him more than his eyes—bear. The last thing he wanted to do was to disturb a hibernating bear. He moved beyond the small grotto where the sow was, taking great care to do so quietly.

  Past the bear cave, the light diminished to a treacherous gloom. John retrieved his Maglite from his pack and shined it around the subterrane. The narrow entrance had opened up and exposed an open cavern from which a warren of smaller caves disappeared into the darkness. John’s first thought was that he’d stumbled upon an abandoned mine. But he’d never heard of anything this big—but then it wouldn’t be the first time that a mine had been abandoned and then all knowledge of it erased. He panned his light around the ground and saw no evidence of the Wendigo in the rocky, packed soil. He shined the light beam in all directions as he slowly advanced deeper into the labyrinth. Suddenly, the futility of his actions registered; the very same light that made it possible for him to see where he was going broadcast his location to the Wendigo—if it was in fact in the cave.

  Once again he stared into the cavern. John realized that he was not equipped to explore the deep recesses of the cavern; he needed more men and equipment. He turned to backtrack his way out when he caught movement between him and one of the grotto’s tunnels and the pervasive smell of grave rot filled the cavern. He concentrated the light in that direction and raised the rifle with his free hand. He detected movement again and then the Wendigo stepped into the light beam.

  _____________

  Dwain scrambled over a slope of snow-covered loose shale. Several times he’d slid backward as the loose rocks shifted under his feet and he’d had to crawl forward on hands and knees. Once he’d entertained thoughts of quitting the quest and returning to the camp below. Then he sensed that he was close, which gave him incentive to continue on.

  He saw the dark opening and knew it was the entrance to the cavern where he was waiting. He quickly approached the opening, dropped to his knees, and crawled inside.

  _____________

  John dropped his Maglite and fired a shot at it. The rifle’s sharp crack echoed through the cavern and the flash from the barrel lit the interior like a flashbulb. Realizing that the rifle put him at the disadvantage of not having a light source, he placed it on the ground, took out his service pistol, and retrieved the Maglite.

  He shined the light in the direction where he’d fired, hoping to see its body lying there, but it was not. John scanned the cavern again, trying to locate his quarry. He was sweating heavily and not sure whether it was due to heat or fear. He shook his head, trying to shake off the sweat that threatened to get in his eyes and ruin his vision. He began to slowly circle the cavern, staying close to the wall. He heard a grunt behind him and spun the light in that direction. The bear stood, outside of the hibernation den, and when John’s light hit its eyes they shined like red lasers in the black face. Suddenly the animal spun around and bellowed a pulsing roar at something or someone behind it that had it spooked.

  John suddenly felt like a kernel of corn in a grinding mill. He had the Wendigo in front of him and the irritated bear behind him. He turned his light back and saw someone move on the other side of the bear. He dropped to one knee, to steady his aim, and sighted at the bear.

  _____________

  Dwain saw the bear and stood still. Under any other set of circumstances he’d shout and wave his hands and feel confident that the animal would run in the opposite direction. However in this situation he knew there was no such option. He knew that the smart thing to do would be to retreat and hope that it would return to its den and hibernation. But he was here, Dwain knew it; he sensed his presence.

  A light shined in his direction. Dwain knew it had to be a human. He wouldn’t have need of a flashlight to see in the darkness.

  Dwain looked around for something to use as a weapon and saw a stone twice the size of his fist. Without taking his eyes from the bear, he squatted down and picked up the rock.

  _____________

  John Bear moved to his right, hoping to get a better angle, one which minimized the risk of hitting the person behind it should he have to shoot the bear. He stumbled over a rock and fell, losing his grip on the flashlight. Before he could regain the light and his feet, the bear emitted another pulsing roar and then a dark shape appeared before it. John immediately knew from its size that it was the Wendigo.

  The Wendigo met the bear with such force as to drive the bear back a step. The startled animal retaliated with a mighty swing of his right paw. In the beam of the flashlight, John saw the Wendigo stagger back a step, regain his balance, and rush the bear again. This time the bear was fully awake and in defensive mode. It crashed with the Wendigo, wrapped its forelegs around its torso, and raked its back with its long, curved claws. The Wendigo strained and forced its way out of the bear hug, its back ripped open and blood flowing down it. It drove its talons into the bear’s chest and the beast bellowed in pain. It swiped again, this time sweeping its sharp claws across the Wendigo’s face. It pushed forward and the Wendigo fell onto its back with the wounded, angry black bear on top.

  The bear jumped up and down on the Wendigo’s chest, smashing into its flesh so hard that blood flew into the darkness. The Wendigo drove its long claws deep into the bear’s soft underbelly. The bear drove its hind feet into the Wendigo’s stomach and kicked backward, eviscerating him.

  All fight went out of the Wendigo, but it shoved its hand deeper into the bear’s gut before releasing its grip and settling back onto the ground. The eviscerated beast pounced and reached forward trying to bite its enemy’s head, but before it could do so it collapsed in a bloody heap. John was certain the bear was dead and hoped the same was true of the Wendigo.

  As if it read his thoughts, the Wendigo rose to a crouch. In the dim light, John could see its eyes; they seemed to be floating around in bowls of blood. John raised his Sig Sauer P226 and aimed it between the eyes.

  The Wendigo opened its mouth to roar, but before it could emit its debilitating thunder, John fired twice. The two silver .357-caliber bullets flew true and entered the front of the Wendigo’s head, blowing the back off as they exited.

  He turned his attention to the bear, which lay on her side. In the narrow beam of light John could see the damage she had absorbed during the fight. A spark of life remained in the sow and she snarled at John.

  John stayed back and watched her crawl into the den. Even though mortally wounded, she growled, defending her cubs to her death. Keeping an eye on her, John cautiously moved along the wall opposite the den. All the while, he watched the hibernation den; one never knew what a badly wounded animal would do—especially one whose only exit was through you.

  Reaching the Wendigo, John took a cursory glance at it. The enraged sow had opened its thorax and abdomen and the internal organs were torn and ruptured. The area was rank with the smell of blood, half-digested intestinal matter, and feces.

  John moved the light to see its head. The back of the huge skull was open and looked like it had fallen ten stories onto a concrete slab. Nothing, not even a Wendigo, could survive that much damage.

  John shined the light inside the den and saw the bear lying on he
r side. Her eyes shined in the light and her side heaved up and down with each of her labored breaths. Her three cubs, so young their eyes were not open, scrambled toward her to suckle. He heard a noise and turned to see Dwain staring at the Wendigo’s body.

  The boy looked at John and in the dim light, John thought that he looked like a normal, if tall for his age, teenage boy. Shock was written on Dwain’s face. He had a bewildered look as he scanned his immediate location. The boy didn’t have to say anything for John to understand that he was wondering how he’d gotten here. Whatever spell the Wendigo had over him was gone—or so John hoped it was.

  “Dwain,” John said.

  The boy was staring at the eviscerated body and didn’t reply.

  “Dwain,” John said louder and with a more forceful tone.

  The boy’s head snapped up and he looked at the warden.

  “Go outside, there’s nothing for you in here.” He waited for a few seconds and when Dwain remained in place, he said, “Go on now, get outta here. I’ve got something to do, then I’ll meet you, and we can go down the mountain together.”

  The boy turned and, after a couple of faltering steps, ran toward the grotto’s entrance.

  John turned to the Wendigo.

  _____________

  Base Camp

  It was dark when John and Dwain reached the base camp at the warden’s cabin. They stepped out of the woods and saw that several fires were burning around the open area where a number of arctic-capable tents were erected. Earl and Louis Dowd stood in front of one, drinking coffee from metal cups. Dwain looked at his grandfather and uncle and seemed hesitant. John placed a hand on the back of his shoulder and said, “Go to your people. Everything will work out—when it comes to family, there is nothing that can’t be resolved with a simple heartfelt I’m sorry and a thank you.”

  Dwain looked at him, his eyes beseeching him to help. “You don’t need me boy. It’s your folks you need—now go.”

  John stood still, hoping he’d been correct in what he’d said, until Dwain reached his uncles. When Earl grabbed him and hugged him, John knew it was going to be all right and turned toward the cabin. Michaud stood on the porch, his hands on his hips. “Well?” the lieutenant said. “Did you get it?”

  “It’s no longer a problem.”

  Michaud nodded and beckoned for John to enter the cabin. Once inside John dropped his pack beside the door and before saying anything, poured a cup of coffee. When he returned to the table, Michaud asked, “I take it he’s dead.”

  John nodded.

  “You kill him?”

  “Not yet.”

  “What do you mean not yet?”

  John walked to his backpack, opened it, and took something out. He placed the wrapped bundle on the table and unveiled what appeared to be a human heart—only it was made of ice.

  “What the fuck is that?”

  “Wendigos have a heart of ice. If you don’t destroy it they will resurrect….”

  John picked up the ice heart, walked to the woodstove and opened it. He opened the damper until the fire was as close to a raging inferno as the old metal stove could handle. He tossed the heart into the fire. The stove began to pulse and vibrate and there was a howl loud enough to shake the windows and be heard for miles. Flames belched out of the stove and then there was a loud noise as if something had passed by at an incredible speed. Within seconds there was an urgent banging at the door. John opened it and Earl Dowd stood on the steps. “What was that?” he asked. “The whole cabin shook and the inside lit up like it was on fire—then there was a loud fuckin’ noise and then this jet of steam shot out of the chimney—reminded me of a steam train climbing a grade—and then …” Earl snapped his fingers “… just like that, everything returned to normal.”

  “I stoked the fire,” John said.

  “What you stoke it with, jet fuel?” Earl said. His face turned serious and he said, “Dwain told me that the Wendigo’s dead….”

  John looked at the stove and replied, “He is now.”

  “Where’s the body?”

  “In a cave near the summit; I’ll collect it in the morning. You can come along if you like.”

  “I just might do that,” Earl said.

  53

  Dowd Settlement: Four Months Later

  John Bear and Laura Wells sat in front of the huge hearth, drinking a hot beverage, and talking in low voices. “I want to do an article on the family, how they’re dealing with the deaths, Dwain’s kidnapping—everything.”

  John smiled at her. “Sounds as if you’re going to ride this horse to the finish line.”

  She stared at the fire for a few moments. “My paper has bought the Aroostook County Tribune….”

  “Really.”

  “I’ve grown to like it up here and I’m considering requesting a transfer to Caribou.”

  He turned to face her. “Isn’t that a step down, career-wise?”

  “Living in a city isn’t all that great….”

  “Do you think you will be able to survive in a town where the most upscale store is a dollar store?”

  She smiled. “It’s only a two-and-a-half-hour drive to the mall in Bangor.”

  “And,” he said with a smile, “only a twenty minute drive to my place in Ashland.”

  “Is that so? The thought never crossed my mind.”

  Their discussion was cut short by the entrance of Amy and Earl Dowd. They sat in easy chairs so that the foursome created a half circle. Once he was settled, Earl said, “John, Laura, thank you for coming.”

  “I should have come sooner,” Laura said.

  “Well, it is a long drive up,” Amy commented.

  A gust of wind rattled the front door and Earl looked out the window at the wind-driven rain that pounded the area. “Seems like my whole life it’s rained at every funeral.”

  “I was sorry to hear about Linwood’s passing,” John said.

  “He was never the same after what happened last winter,” Amy said.

  Earl turned to John. “There’s one thing about that whole deal that you still ain’t explained to me. What in hell did you throw in that stove that almost blew that cabin to hell?”

  “The Wendigo’s heart.”

  All three of his companions turned to John. “It’s heart?” Amy said. “Why on earth would you do that?”

  John knew that what he was about to tell them would be difficult for them to accept but he decided to take the risk. “It was a Wendigo.”

  “You’ve said that any number of times,” Earl commented.

  “Wendigos,” John explained, “are not human. They will inhabit and possess a human body, but they themselves are not human—they’re the most evil of all Algonquin manitous. Gods, if you will. They have many powers, among them the power of resurrection.”

  “Surely, you don’t believe such a thing exists?” Amy said.

  John replied, “Years ago, I asked that same question of my grandfather. He replied: No, but I saw his tracks once….”

  “Okay, let’s accept that such a thing exists, why did you burn its heart?” Earl inquired.

  “There’s only one way to kill one. You cut out its icy heart and burn it in a fire.”

  “Help me understand this,” Earl said. “You burned it’s heart in the fire?”

  “Yes. The next day when you and I returned to the cave and you saw its body, I had you take the bear cubs down the mountain.”

  “I wondered about that bear,” Earl said. “Why didn’t you bring the cubs down after the sow killed the Wendigo?”

  “She was still alive.”

  “Why didn’t you put it out of its misery?” Laura asked.

  “It had recently given birth to three cubs and at the time I was not able to bring them down, so I left them there where they could curl up beside their mother until I could get back. That night, Aurel Michaud contacted a biologist and a wildlife rescue shelter in Saint John. After I finished what I had to do, I brought the cubs down and sen
t them to the shelter.”

  Laura gazed at him. “John Bear, you are a man of many faces. On one hand you can cut up a human being with a chainsaw and then carry three newborn bear cubs to safety.”

  John chuckled. “Keep in mind that the bear is my totem … sort of like your guardian angels. It would be wrong for me to abandon them to starve. As for the Wendigo, we’ve already determined that even though it looked human, it was not.”

  “I been trying to figure out why you carried a chainsaw up to the cave.”

  John didn’t answer, he sat quiet with a knowing smile on his face.

  Laura, Amy, and Earl sat silent, obviously processing what he’d said and, John thought, wondering how much to believe.

  After several moments John said, “How’s Dwain doing?”

  “Fine,” Earl said, “he’s growin’ like a damn weed. Must be well over six and a half feet tall and strong as any three of us.”

  “Surprisingly,” Amy added, “he eats less than what it would take to keep a bird alive….”

  “Really?” John replied. “Is he around? I’d like to see him.”

  “You’ll get your chance. He should be at the funeral.” Earl looked at his watch. “Speakin’ of which, we better be goin.”

  They departed the house and were immediately drenched by the driving rain. John hunched over and took Laura by the arm as they walked into the gusting wind.

  Earl said, “The cemetery plot is over by the woods in the far corner of the clearing.”

  “We’ll follow in my truck,” John said.

  There was little conversation as they drove around the barn and followed Earl onto a muddy lane that meandered toward the tree line. The windshield wipers made a thumping noise as they tried to get ahead of the deluge. John and Laura stared straight ahead. The combination of the cold spring rain and their amassed body heat fogged the side windows of the truck and the defroster could barely keep the windshield clear enough for John to drive.

  As they approached the burial plot, John saw a yellow backhoe and a cluster of trucks, all indistinguishable from one another due to the coating of mud that each wore. June is a rainy month in far northern Maine and the ground was swampy from the accumulation of new water and the snowmelt of the past winter.