42

Larry Murphy’s House, Lyndon Station, Maine

John and Murphy stood on the front porch, studying the indentations in the snow. John glanced up to the sky and said, “You followed the tracks?”

Murphy nodded his head. “They go back into the woods about fifty feet or so. I couldn’t tell which way he came from nor which direction he went.”

“At the rate it’s snowin’ we’ll never find out.”

Murphy turned to the entrance to his small house. “Coffee’s ready. You want some?”

“Yeah, not much else to do.”

They entered the small house and John sat at the small table in the center of the common room. Murphy had sectioned the room by arranging the kitchen furniture in one corner and the living room in another. The bedroom and bath were the only other rooms in the house. John felt at home in Murphy’s house and wished that he had a similar place. Maybe, he thought, I’ll build a small place like this for myself and get out of the apartment in Ashland.

Murphy walked to the kitchen area and filled two mugs with coffee and returned to the table. “You got any type of plan in mind?” he asked John.

John looked past Murphy at the falling snow, which had increased in intensity. “Nope, the way the snow is comin’ down his tracks will be gone in an hour, if not less.”

“So we wait for him to show himself again?”

“That’s basically the plan. Although, it may be wise to keep an eye on the Dowd place. Condor seems to have developed some sort of bond with Dwain.”

“You think we should head on out there?” Murphy asked.

“I have to report to Lieutenant Michaud,” John said. “Tell you what, let’s drive into Fort Kent and fill the lieutenant in. First thing in the morning we’ll go to Dowd Settlement.”

_____________

The North Maine Woods, Near Dowd Settlement

The Wendigo walked through the deep snow and leafless bushes. He was aware that everyone north of Bangor was probably looking for him and as a result he was hypervigilant. A gust of wind swept through the trees creating a white whirlwind of snow that cascaded down, coating his head and shoulders until he resembled a white statue. He shrugged and set a course for Dowd Settlement. He glanced up through the pines and leafless deciduous trees while trying to determine the sun’s position above the low-hanging overcast that covered the area. Experience told him there was more snow in the offing—all the better to hide any sign of his passing.

Upon arriving at Dowd Settlement he stood back from the edge of the woods and studied the barn through the falling snow. He looked over his shoulder at the steep incline behind him. If he was caught, his best avenue of escape would be that way, to the top of the beech tree–covered ridge. He squatted behind some evergreen trees and waited for darkness.

Darkness chased the light away and the Wendigo left the trees that concealed him from the sight of anyone who would casually scan the woods. Two steps brought him to the edge of the trees. The world was a monochrome tapestry, white snow and black buildings and terrain. It was a world in which he was at ease. He scanned the open field and then stepped out into it.

He was halfway to the barn when he heard the whine of approaching snowmobiles. He turned toward the sound and saw one machine round the left corner of the barn and head directly at him. He looked toward the right and saw another sled appear from that direction. There was a sharp crack as a bullet passed through his side. He’d walked into a trap! He spun and fled toward the safety of the woods.

The Wendigo’s long legs served him well. He glided through the snow, but the increasing cacophony from the sleds told him that they were closing fast. There was a loud snap of a bullet breaking the sound barrier. He broke left, ran two strides, and then went right, hoping to throw the shooter off.

He was almost to the trees when he heard one of the sleds immediately behind him. He turned, emitted a thunderous roar and backhanded the rider, throwing him from his seat. His first instinct was to carry the still figure with him, but reconsidered when another bullet snapped past his head. He spun around and bolted into the safety of the woods.

_____________

Earl Dowd stopped his sled and ran to see how badly Louis was hurt. When he reached his son, Louis was sitting up and holding his head, the remnants of his helmet in his hand. Earl squatted beside him and asked. “You okay?”

“I ain’t dead or crippled if that’s what you’re askin’.”

Earl turned his head and looked at the track in the snow where the giant had fled.

“We goin’ after him?” Louis asked.

“Not by ourselves.” Earl stood up and offered his hand to his son. “Let’s get back to the house. I want to check you out, then we’re gonna form a posse. I want every male Dowd armed and on a sled within the hour.”

He helped his son onto his sled and they turned and raced back to the house. An hour later a convoy consisting of eight men—all armed with high-powered rifles, formed up in the Dowd dooryard, and set out in pursuit.