The Origin (The Sighting #2)

by Christopher Coleman

  He looked back at Kitchi, making sure he was still asleep, and then stood and walked toward the water, searching. The creature had risen from the sea when he was last here with Nootau, but it had not stayed there. It had followed the boys to the sound, hunted them, finally settling on the panicking Nootau.

  But had it stayed in the sound or retreated to the ocean? It was a question he hadn’t considered until this moment, now with his thoughts clear in the tranquility of the barrier island, far away from the distrustful eyes of the natives and the equally frightened ones of his countrymen.

  Samuel knew his life here in this new world wouldn’t reach the days of his manhood. And it wasn’t to do with any demon animal from beneath the sea. Things were too fragile here. There was too much darkness. Darkness not only in the hearts of the men that passed by him every day, both native and domestic, but literal darkness as well. When night fell on the colony, it was as if a black shell had been placed over its top. It was suffocating. Portending of bleakness, death.

  But not on this night. On this night, Samuel was in the arms of the Great Western Ocean, a full moon above him, the light and stars of the dark heavens beaming down upon him, signaling for him to summon his god, to let live the myth of these ancient people and make it his own. There were opportunities tonight. And they were his alone.

  Samuel closed his eyes and breathed in the cool air, and then stooped at the shoreline, filling his cupped hands with the salty water of the sea and splashing his face with it. He smoothed back his long, shaggy brown hair and then stood and turned back to the dunes, his eyes narrow with hate and hunger. He could see only the dark outlines of the sea grass, but he knew within the cover of it was a sleeping cripple who was ready for sacrifice.

  Samuel stalked back to the dunes but did not stop at the sleeping Kitchi. Instead, he retraced his steps back down to the sound and the awaiting canoe, which, this time, he had made sure to secure well up on the beach, pulling it far enough so the hull was well buried in the dry sand, far from the greedy waters of the sound.

  He stepped inside and reached beneath the stern seat until his fingers touched the thick twine of rope. He gathered the coil and trekked back to the dune until he was standing over the helpless Indian beneath him.

  Samuel rolled Kitchi to his stomach and then grabbed his left arm, swinging it behind the man’s back. He repeated the same motion with his right hand until both were resting on his back, the tips of Kitchi’s index fingers touching. Kitchi grunted once and shifted his shoulders, but he didn’t wake.

  Next, Samuel grabbed one end of the thick rope and began to wrap it around Kitchi’s wrists, making several passes, pulling it tight with each revolution until it was four or five layers thick. He then tied the rope off with a bowline knot and stood quickly, satisfied with the procedure and efficiency of his work.

  Kitchi raised his face from the sandy dune. “What are you..? No.” It didn’t take long for the Algonquin to figure out what was happening. “You cannot do this, Samuel. You are visitors to our land.” His voice was calm, but there was desperation attached to every word. “We have welcomed you. And I have spared you from death by keeping this secret I know of you.”

  Samuel heard every word but felt not the slightest pull of persuasion. Instead, he stooped low in front of Kitchi and grabbed him at the ankles, one in each hand, and then began to drag him off the slope of the dune and toward the beach.

  Kitchi’s tied hands were creating a bit of drag in the sand, and Samuel realized now that he should have tied them in front of his body instead of at his back. But it didn’t much matter; there wasn’t far to go. Forty paces maybe. That should be plenty of distance for him to both witness the approach of the beast and take in all its power and ferocity. Of course, Samuel had to be sure not to give the prize up too early and cheat himself of the vision. The advance of the monster on the beach was as magnificent as the kill itself, and this anticipation brought tears to his eyes.

  “Okay, Samuel, I will make this deal with you.” Kitchi spoke with a clear head now, temperately. “You take me back to the dune and you let me see the Croatoan as you have promised.” He paused. “And for that, I will give to you Jania. You like Jania, yes? I have that power within my family. In my village. I can ensure she is yours. You like the girls now, yes?”

  Jania was almost seventeen and quite beautiful, and Samuel knew that her marriage had been arranged for many years, as was custom for the native girls. Kitchi was a troublemaker in the colony, that was true, but Samuel knew he didn’t have the power to call off marriages, much less make new arrangements involving the children of colonists. It was an absurd attempt.

  Besides, Samuel would have been far more interested in a deal for Jania’s sister, Sokwa, who was the same age as Samuel, and with whom he had shared a classroom for a time last month. She had been in love with Nootau, Samuel was sure of that, but she was kind to Samuel, and he fantasized about marrying her one day.

  But there were no deals to be struck on this day or any other. There was only one subject he gave his mind to anymore. One thing that consumed him wholly. The Croatoan.

  Samuel dragged Kitchi further onto the beach, turning his head every few paces, measuring the landscape to ensure he left the correct distance between the water, Kitchi, and the dunes. It was all perfect. There was no need for Samuel to dig a hole or even sever the man’s feet. He was incapacitated, and nature had done the work for him.

  “It is an intriguing offer, Kitchi, but not one I am interested in.”

  “You tell me, then,” Kitchi retorted quickly. “You make the deal.”

  Samuel stopped for a moment, considering this challenge. He knew there was no way he would allow Kitchi to ever leave the beach alive, regardless of whether or not the black beast came, but perhaps he could extract something additional from the man, something that had been weighing on Samuel since the moment Nootau had spoken of it.

  And who was Kitchi to deny him what he asked? He was, at the moment, a living example of vulnerability. “Okay, Kitchi,” Samuel said, dropping the man’s legs to the sand. “Perhaps there is a deal to be struck.”

  Kitchi’s eyes were wide and hopeful. He licked his lips and nodded. “Yes! Yes, anything.”

  “I want to hear the story from the beginning. The full story.”

  “What story?”

  “The story of the Croatoan. The story you told to Nootau.”

  Kitchi closed his eyes regretfully. “It is a story now that I wish I had never known.”

  Samuel gave a sad smile at this statement, realizing how different everything would be at this moment. His friend Nootau would still be alive, and Samuel would be home resting in his bed, preparing for another day of chores, pining for some future moment when his father would return to the colony.

  This thought of his father suddenly sobered Samuel. What would happen when he returned? Would the colony still be here? Would war have broken out and all of the colonists savagely murdered and scalped by the natives?

  It was more likely that they would all have starved by that point, but it all came to the same conclusion.

  Samuel focused back on Kitchi, his eyes signaling that he was waiting for an answer to his proposition.

  “I know only of the story as told to me by my grandfather.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That story I told to Nootau, much of it was told in the style of allegory, as it was told to me. It was a ghost story for children.”

  “But...”

  “I always knew the tale was true, I could see it in my grandfather’s eyes. Of course, he sprinkled the tale with exaggerations, hoping to mislead me from the truth, but I always knew it had happened. Though...” Kitchi now wore a look of pleading, uncertainty.

  “What is it?

  “If you are looking for the origin, Samuel, for the secret to summon and control the Croatoan, that I do not know. But I know of one who may.”

  Samuel didn’t recognize the tactic of his
prisoner at first, but it came to him within a few seconds. Kitchi was smart, smarter than Samuel—Samuel had no delusions about that—and he was creating value in himself for survival. It was now Samuel’s purpose to learn if Kitchi was bluffing. “Who knows this tale if not you?”

  “She is a half-day’s walk from here, on the far side of the island.”

  “Where exactly?”

  Kitchi smiled and cocked his head. “Well, that detail must be an addendum to our deal, Samuel.”

  “Perhaps I don’t believe you, Kitchi. In fact, I’m sure I don’t.”

  “I could easily make up a story, Samuel,” Kitchi shot back, “tell you an invented origin of the Croatoan that would be a true myth. Give you some ancient incantation to speak into the water that would bring the creature to you each time you spoke the words to the crashing waves. I could do these things and you would never know whether it was truth or lie. But I wish to know the truth as you do. I yearn for it, now that I know for a fact it is real.”

  Samuel stayed silent, implying the next question with his eyes.

  “I can tell you she does not live in the village. Not in my village or your colony. She is on the western side of the island, to the south, across from the Big Island. She was banished there a lifetime ago from the tribe that gave name to the being we both seek.”

  “Why did she flee north to our island?”

  “She couldn’t stay on the island of the Croatoan, but she couldn’t come to our village either. My people would never have accepted her there. So she had no home there or here.”

  “I have never heard of such a woman,” Samuel said, feeling agitated that this news had somehow evaded him.

  “You and yours are strangers in this land, Samuel. There are few with white faces who know of her. And she makes little demonstration of her existence. There are many of my own people who don’t know of her either. And there is a chance she could be dead by now.”

  Samuel frowned at this last part, but accepted the overall theme of Kitchi’s story as true. At least for the moment. There was no doubt the man was a mason with words, so the chance remained he was attempting to fool Samuel. “How is it that you are sure she knows about it? About the god...the Croatoan?”

  Kitchi dipped his head and raised his eyebrows at the word ‘God,’ but did not explore it. Instead he only shrugged and said, “She is old. And, I am told, learned in the craft of witchery. Necromancy, perhaps. Ancient women such as this always know the dark stories of the land.”

  Samuel was truly intrigued now. “Told by who?”

  “What?”

  “You said you were told she held these powers. Who told you?”

  “My grandfather lived with these people when he was a boy. He knew the woman then, when she was a girl herself. He remembered her well and was still alive when she was banished to the western woods. It is how I know so much more than most about the woman.”

  “And you know where she lives? Where her house is?”

  Kitchi hesitated, and Samuel could see the man was measuring how much more he should tell without giving away his advantage. “I have never been to her shelter. But what I know of it, it is no house, but rather a cave. It is shrouded in the dark woods of the island, but I remember enough from what my Numohshomus told me that I’ve little doubt I could find her. There is much treachery on the western shores, particularly in the south, and there is little light to guide you there. But the shoreline caves can be—”

  The explosion from behind Samuel nearly knocked him from his feet and on top of Kitchi, and he felt the thick spray of water across his head and neck. He turned toward the ocean; there was only the emptiness of the water, but beyond the break of the waves he saw a giant ripple of foam.

  Samuel looked down to Kitchi, whose face looked as if it had been frozen in ice. Had he seen it? Samuel wondered. He felt the compulsion to ask but was too shaken to speak. Instead, he moved behind Kitchi, careful not to trip over the stranded man, and then Samuel slowly began to walk backward, keeping his eyes fixed on the shoreline all the while.

  It was happening.

  Not a sound came from Kitchi at first, but then, finally recognizing the finality of his circumstances and the intentions of Samuel, a thick blanket of panic enveloped him. “Samuel,” he croaked, his words dry and powerless, like those of a dying elder. “Samuel, you must help me! It was our deal!”

  But Samuel was lost in his own focus now, continuing to scan the ocean’s edge for the rise of the god. He was suddenly lightheaded with expectation and realized he wasn’t breathing and in danger of collapsing. He had an absent thought what a comedy it would be to fall victim to his own god this way, so overcome in the presence of his majesty that he lost consciousness and was then devoured by the animal. But if he were to die on this beach tonight, in that way, that would be as fitting and acceptable a way as any to pass.

  But Samuel steadied his breathing and fought off the dizziness, picking up the pace of his retreat to the dunes. The sun was not yet visible, but a red hue now painted the sky above the horizon, marking the beginning of morning.

  Kitchi continued his pleas, the words beginning hoarse and dry and then quickly evolving to full screams. Samuel’s only thought now was how perfectly the cries would act as a lure.

  Kitchi must have seen it, Samuel thought. Perhaps not the details of the form, but at least the bold strokes of the thing that had made the powerful splash. But Samuel could still see nothing other than the eerie stillness of the sea, and he hadn’t figured out how such a creature, large though it was, could make the sound that announced its appearance.

  Samuel thought back to the first time he saw the god with Nootau and recalled the calm following the crashing sound. And just as then, he could almost feel the presence of the beast approaching the beach. And he thought he detected a growing smell.

  “You will never find the woman!” Kitchi screamed now. “If you ever want to meet the Witch of the Western Shores, if you ever want to know where the beast comes from, I am the only one who can tell you?”

  This thought startled Samuel, and for the first time he considered the challenge of finding this woman on his own. He knew it would be nearly impossible, but he was no longer afraid of such an exploration. Not anymore. Not after tonight. He knew when he witnessed the ferocity a second time, he would never fear anything again.

  But that didn’t change the difficulty that lie ahead. He could find the western shores, he figured. He knew of the Big Island and the general direction of it. It wasn’t far; Samuel figured he could make it there in less than three hours. But how would he find the cave? And even if he accomplished that much, he would never be able to communicate with the woman. The natives in the colony had learned English over the years, as many of the colonists had learned the native tongue. This was a skill that was almost essential for survival. But this hermit woman from the Croatoan tribe would no more know Samuel’s language than he would hers.

  But all that was a problem for another day. Tonight, he would soak in the glorious killing of the struggling man before him.

  The light was improving, and Samuel could see Kitchi digging his fingers into the moist sand, trying hopelessly to pull himself up the slope. He looked like a crab whose back legs had been removed, instinctively looking for the safety of cover.

  But there was none to be found on the open beach, and even if there had been, Samuel would never let him reach it.

  Samuel knelt behind the tall grass now, sensing the imminence of the beast, reciting soft prayers to the wind.

  Within minutes, his prayers were answered.

  As if Samuel, himself, had summoned the vision, a wide, black dome breached the water, and seconds later the giant began its steady march to the beach.

  Chapter 15

  Danny felt the long fingers of the monster close loosely around his foot, and he could only watch in horror, helpless, his back pressed against the wall, the thick rope tied tightly around his arms and chest. He opened his mout
h to scream, and instead dry heaved, his tongue unfolding from his mouth like a fleshy carpet.

  He couldn’t see the body of the creature in the darkness of the cave opening—he could never see it in these dreams—it was only the clawed hand that appeared to him, glowing next to the fire that burned brightly beside him.

  The hand grabbed Danny’s foot and then the fingers crept slowly up to his ankle like a giant tarantula before finally gripping him above the heel. At that point, the creature began to pull Danny forward, sliding his back down the wall toward the wild, rapid snapping motion of its eager jaws.

  And that was always the point at which Danny awoke, just before his toes crossed the threshold of the beast’s black lips.

  He gasped and blasted his eyelids as far apart as they would go, and then whipped his head toward the nightstand, squinting at the clock. Only twelve minutes had passed since he’d last looked at it. This wasn’t surprising; Danny had been waking up before dawn for a few years now, so taking in the morning with leisure wasn’t going to come easily.

  He lay in bed and closed his eyes, reflecting on the dream once again. It didn’t come every night, but enough that it was becoming an item of anxiety at bedtime. And now, with the possibility that he had located the creature, he feared it would recur nightly from this day forward.

  He kept his eyes closed and soon felt the drift of sleep again. He let it take him, and a second later he heard the screams.

  For a moment, he thought they were coming from his psyche, and that he was picking up the dream at the point where he left off. But when he opened his eyes and the screams continued, he knew they were occurring in reality.

  Danny threw off the covers and swung his legs toward the floor and then sat on his bed and listened, not breathing. The screams were distant, as if coming from some old movie playing on a television in a far-off room. He got up and walked from his bedroom and then opened the door to the guest room that sat just to the right down the hall. For a moment, he wondered if, perhaps, Sam had gone in the room the other morning to watch a little television just before deciding to stay and torment him with her extended company. Maybe it had been on this whole time, and he was just now hearing it in the quiet of the morning.