by Vic Ghidalia
This time it was the real man, though incredibly and horribly shrunken. On his face was no expression of any kind whatever - fear, welcome, or recognition. He did not seem to know who it was that embraced him, or who it was that fed, warmed and spoke to him the words of comfort and relief. Forlorn and broken beyond all reach of human aid, the little man did meekly as he was bidden. The "something" that had constituted him "individual" had vanished for ever.
In some ways it was more terribly moving than anything they had yet seen - that idiot smile as he drew wads of coarse moss from his swollen cheeks and told them that he was "a damned moss eater"; the continued vomiting of even the simplest food; and, worst of all, the piteous and childish voice of complaint in which he told them that his feet pained him - "burn like fire" - which was natural enough when Dr. Cathcart examined them and found that both were dreadfully frozen. Beneath the eyes there were faint indications of recent bleeding.
The details of how he survived the prolonged exposure, of where he had been, or of how he covered the great distance from one camp to the other, including an immense detour of the lake on foot since he had no canoe - all this remains unknown. His memory had vanished completely. And before the end of the winter whose beginning witnessed this strange occurrence, Defago, bereft of mind, memory and soul, had gone with it. He lingered only a few weeks.
And what Punk was able to contribute to the story throws no further light upon it. He was cleaning fish by the lake shore about five o'clock in the evening - an hour, that is, before the search party returned - when he saw this shadow of the guide picking its way weakly into camp. In advance of him, he declares, came the faint whiff of a certain singular odor.
That same instant old Punk started for home. He covered the entire journey of three days as only Indian blood could have covered it. The terror of a whole race drove him. He knew what it all meant. Defago had "seen the Wendigo."
ABOUT THE EDITORS:
Vic Ghidalia, a graduate of Pace College, is on the public relations staff of a communications corporation. A collector of supernatural and science fiction stories, he has edited many science fiction anthologies.
Roger Elwood is an author and anthologist specializing in science fiction who has compiled more than 44 anthologies. He has written numerous science fiction stories and other articles for various magazines.
This is their fifth anthology as co-editors.
The Beast That Crouches Just Beyond The Light
In every man's imagination lurks that dreadful shape - the beast that is more horrifying, more dangerous than any animal. To most people it is just a nightmare, a dream from which they awake to realize the terrors are all in the mind.
But there are some who do not awake....
