“Can’t you...help?” she asked, shoving the couch across the cabin.
The elder shrugged. “I’m not supposed to be here. Got caught in the wake of the demon.”
“The wen-wen-wen—”
“Wendigo. I think there’s refrigerator you can use for the back door.”
Mary moved to the rear. She cursed her husband, Mark, for bringing them to Middle-of-Nowhere, Manitoba, for reciting the incantation they’d found. Started cursing, realized he was cursed plenty, already. She positioned fridge just as the doorknob began rattling.
“Now?”
“We wait.”
“For?”
“Morning.” The elder leaned against the fireplace. “If the spirit hasn’t tasted human blood it will depart. Regardless, I’ll fade.”
They sat in near-darkness; only the gibbous moon illuminated the cabin. Occasionally, a forest creature cried in anguish. The elder explained that the Wendigo was unlikely to enter the cabin. Her husband’s spirit could fight off some of the demon’s cannibalistic tendencies. If it encountered a human outside, though....
“Can I light a fire?”
“The light will drive the demon inside. You’d have to kill your husband.”
Around 4:00 A.M., Mary thought she heard a semi-truck’s airhorn. The elder shrugged, noncommittally.
At 7:00 A.M. the elder began fading. “When he knocks...” was all he said before disappearing.
An hour later, Mark shouted, “Mary, open up.” His voice was raw.
“Are you alright?” she called.
Mark said “Mary” once. Then rattled the door. And rattled it. And rattled it.
No comments:
Post a Comment