50

Del’s Place

Laura Wells was surprised to see the bar at Del’s Place was full of local men, all listening intently to Del, who stood behind the bar and looked like a judge holding court. She walked to the door between the dining room and the bar, leaned against the door jamb, and listened.

“What in hell is goin’ on up at Rocky Mountain?” Bill Kelly shouted to be heard over the chatter.

“You guys shut your pie holes and I’ll tell you what I know,” Del raised his voice and the din ceased. He placed his hands on the edge of the bar and leaned forward. “A couple of the Dowd boys were in the store early yesterday afternoon. They told me that Earl and a bunch of his kin had cornered the killer, up at Rocky Mountain.”

“They get him?” asked Phil O’Connor.

“I’m gettin’ to that.” Del was obviously enjoying his role as being the man in the know. “To get to the point, no. As a matter of fact Cullen Dowd got killed.”

A rumble rolled through the room as everyone began talking at once.

Del raised his hands and shouted for quiet. “I ain’t done yet.” When the room quieted down he continued, “John Bear and Murph caught up with the Dowds and took charge. They camped up at the warden cabin on the mountain—that night Galen Dowd got killed.”

Again a fervor of protest filled the crowd. “What the hell are they doin’ ’bout this?” O’Connor shouted, taking on the role of spokesman for the group.

Del ignored him. “You boys …” He noticed Laura standing in the threshold of the door to the dining room and nodded. “You folks may have noticed all the cops and wardens that were here this mornin’—well, I heard on the scanner that one of the wardens was killed yesterday afternoon.”

Again everyone began talking at once. Laura felt her knees go weak. A warden dead! She felt a stab of fear. She raised her voice and, in a tone she hoped sounded like a dispassionate reporter and not a scared significant other, asked, “Did you hear which warden?”

“Nope, but there’s cops of every sort up there.” Del waited a second for his words to sink in and then added, “no matter which warden it was I don’t think the killer will be coming down from that mountain alive …”

Laura didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. She darted out of the building, jumped into her SUV, and headed for Dowd Settlement.

_____________

Dowd Settlement

The lights were on when Laura turned into the yard at Dowd Settlement. She pulled up in front of the main house and shut off her motor. Amy walked onto the porch as Laura exited her vehicle and stood with her arms wrapped around her torso, looking haggard and worn in the harsh illumination of the spotlights that lit the area. She stared at Laura for a second, looking like she was at a loss for words, and then said, “You heard?”

“Yes. I’m so sorry—”

Amy turned as if to brush off Laura’s words. “Come on in. I can’t stay out long, Granddad’s taking this hard. Whatever this goddamned thing is, it will be the ruin of our family.”

The sudden transition from twenty below zero to the super-heated atmosphere of the house was like walking into a wall, and Laura immediately took off her heavy parka and placed it over the back of one of the recliner chairs that faced the raging fire in the large stone hearth. She sat and turned to Amy. “How are you handling this?”

“I’ll be all right. You want some coffee?”

“That’ll be great.”

Amy turned toward the kitchen.

While Amy got the coffee, Laura sat, bent forward with her arms resting on her knees, staring at the wood fire. The flames mesmerized her and she thought about the dead warden and tried to imagine how she’d handle it if it was John. The sap in one of the logs boiled to steam and snapped when the log burst open. She jumped and broke away from her reverie.

Amy placed a serving tray on the small coffee table that sat between the couch and the hearth and then sat on the opposite end of the couch. “You all right?”

Laura realized that Amy must have seen her jump when the log burst open and said, “Yes. I just got lost inside my head for a moment.”

“You take it black, right?” Amy asked.

“Yes.” Laura looked Amy in the eye. “I should be serving you.”

“No, I need to have something to do or I’ll completely lose it.”

“Have you heard which warden was—?”

“Killed? No, I haven’t. In fact all I know is what Alton told me he heard on his scanner. The wardens and the cops know that many of us have them, so they’re very careful what they say over their radios.”

Laura nodded that she understood. “Which of your relatives—”

“My nephews, Cullen and Galen.”

“How many of your people are left out there?”

Amy paused for a second appearing to hold a roll call in her head.” My father, Earl, my brother, Louis, and my cousin Kane are there. Buster wants to join up with them, but he’s still laid up from the last time they chased it.”

“Do you know that the hunt has grown? They’ve called in people from every level of law enforcement.”

Amy grew pensive. “I heard that on the scanner. But I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.”

“Oh?”

“That bastard will know about them and be on his toes. A single man who knows his way around the woods will have a better chance of finding him—especially if it doesn’t know it’s being hunted.” She stared at her hands for a few moments. “At least that’s what I think.”

Laura gave thought to what Amy had said and she had to agree with her. However she didn’t like the idea. The only man capable of tracking it was John—if he was alive.

The front door opened and a young woman entered. “Amy, any word about Dwain?”

“No,”

“He’s been gone for two days now and not a sign of him.”

“What’s that, you say?”

The three women turned to see Linwood Dowd helping his grandson Buster down the stairs that led up to the second floor. The bandages wrapping Buster’s chest were visible through the open buttons of his heavy wool shirt. Linwood’s face was red with anger and once he had his grandson off the stairs he released Buster’s arm and his voice rose as he asked, “Why in hell hasn’t anyone told us?”

Amy’s face reddened, but stood her ground and absorbed her father’s anger. “Granddad, don’t be getting yourself all worked up, it ain’t good for you.”

“Nothin’s good for me … at my age a man’s livin’ on borrowed time anyways. Now what’s this about Dwain?”

“He took off again—we didn’t want you and Buster to get all upset, so me’n Dad decided to keep it quiet.”

“You checked everywhere?”

“Me’n Alton looked ever’wheres and he ain’t nowhere to be found.”

Linwood assisted Buster to a chair and then walked across the room and flopped into one of the easy chairs that fronted the hearth. “Gone off with that goddamned killer agin, ain’t he?”

“We don’t know that for certain,” Amy countered.

“Girl, you know as well as Buster and me do that Dwain ain’t been actin’ normal since we got him back from that crazy bastard—he’s gone off to find him and there ain’t no doubt about that.”

_____________

North Maine Woods, T17, R12

Dwain Dowd broke a trail through the deep snow. The walking would have been easier if he stayed on the woods roads but he wanted to avoid being seen by any people who might be hunting for him. There were snowmobile tracks everywhere and on several occasions a low-flying airplane passed overhead. He sensed his location and was determined to reach it before the men surrounding the mountains killed him.

The night sky was clear of clouds and the temperature plummeted to thirty below zero, but the boy was ambivalent to it. For all that the frozen environment affected him it may as well have been mid-July.

_____________

Rocky Mountain

The Wendigo remained near the top of the mountain, making sure that he stayed beneath the cover of the large evergreen trees that covered the lower slope. A short time ago he had heard something—a sound not of the forest—and had come to this side of the incline to investigate.

His eyesight was superior to that of a human and he was able to see in the darkness better than a man wearing a night-vision device. He found a place that allowed him to observe a game trail while remaining hidden. Men, he knew, were like water; they always took the path of least resistance. If they were coming to the summit, they’d most likely pass his hide.

He’d been squatting motionless for thirty minutes when he saw them coming from below. The lead gunman wore night-vision goggles and moved through the deep snow with an ease that told the Wendigo he was familiar with the woods.

The Wendigo waited for the searchers. He hadn’t seen the Indian warden, but was certain that if he wasn’t with them he was close by. All it took was patience and they would come to him.

_____________

John stayed back and watched the sniper in the point position creep slowly up the incline. The point’s attention was more on keeping on his feet than on observing the area around him. John’s head was turned, checking the positions of the rest of the team when he heard a brief shout. He turned in time to see the point man’s feet disappear into the snow-laden boughs of a large evergreen. A dark cloud surrounded the tree and a sound that resembled a thunder clap brought snow cascading around him. John quickly aimed his rifle up the slope, expecting an attack from the tree.

“What the fuck happened?” called a voice to John’s rear.

John turned to tell the trooper to shut up. Before he could speak there was another rumble of thunder and the Wendigo charged. Behind him, the terrified policeman dropped to the ground. John took his rifle off safe and pointed it at the dark cloud that raced down the slope. He aimed at the center of the cloud and fired. He knew he’d scored a hit when he was knocked off his feet by a primordial shriek that he was sure had punctured his ear drums. He ejected the spent cartridge and loaded a second silver bullet. In the dark it was almost impossible for him to discern anything. He wished he had a pair of night-vision goggles. He’d requested a pair when they’d set out, but was told they had only enough for the SWAT team members. He looked for the SWAT officer and couldn’t find him. John hoped that he was only lost in the dark and not taken by the Wendigo.

John slowly raised himself up into a crouch and began to slide backward, all the while keeping his profile below that of a fallen tree.

A shot rang out and John saw the remaining three SWAT snipers hiding behind trees. One of them pointed to a position directly in front of John. “I got a location on him,” the sniper called. He peered through his scope and stepped away from the tree for a clear shot. He didn’t get it off. As soon as he was in the open, the dark cloud enveloped him and he screamed. As fast as it had descended, the cloud receded up the slope. The SWAT officer was on his feet and staring at John. A large section of his neck had been ripped away, sending a stream of pulsing blood shooting from a severed carotid artery. His eyes were wide in disbelief and he toppled forward into the snow.

“Stay under cover!” John ordered the remaining two snipers.

John began to dig a small tunnel beneath the dead tree, hoping to create enough clearance for him to slide under and possibly get off a shot or two. “Keep me covered,” he called to the men behind him.

“Gotcha,” came the reply.

John burrowed under the tree and when he hit frozen ground, scooped out a fighting hole in the snow until he was under the fallen beech and had an opening on the far side. He took a moment to brush off his rifle and checking that all of its operational parts were free and clear of anything that may cause it to malfunction. He peered upward, ignoring his telescopic sight, which he believed was useless under the circumstances. The telescope attached to his rifle with a mount that allowed him to aim using the rifle’s sights. He waited, watching for any movement up the grade.

Suddenly the wind picked up, sending a gust of air so frigid that the trees on the slope cracked and split. The dark cloud disappeared into the night, driving a wall of drifting snow before it. Thunder rolled again and John raised his head. The Wendigo stood in front of a rock outcrop. John immediately shifted his aim and fired. The sound of his rifle fire was barely discernible against the crash of thunder and then the Wendigo was gone.

Afraid of being trapped in his impromptu hide, John scurried back out of the burrow. He crouched behind the tree and cursed when the air warmed and freezing rain engulfed the mountain, coating everything, man, beast, and flora, in a heavy layer of ice.

After several minutes, during which he became thoroughly soaked, John took a chance and stood up. The remaining members of the search party gathered around him. Everyone had their coats open and their rifles inside against their bodies, protecting them from the elements.

The sergeant in charge of the team blinked against the lashing rain. “What the fuck was that?”

“Our quarry.”

“Jesus, I’ve never seen anything like that in my life.”

“Let’s hope that you never see it again.”

“So I guess we carry our dead down to the camp.”

John looked around and shook his head. “You can look if you want.” John pointed upslope at the tree from which the Wendigo attacked. “but you won’t find him.” John stared into the black sky, the freezing rain hitting his face like frozen bee-bees. This is gonna make things tough. There’s gonna be a crust over everything and we’ll never get close to him.