Windigo roared again as the eagle swooped in for another attack. It gave me a quick look of intense hatred before retreating into the woods.
The eagle, satisfied, flew to the top of the barn. There it watched us, clinging to the roof with its sharp claws.
“What the hell, man?” asked Terry, who was nearly doubled over in fear. “What the hell was that?”
“That was the Windigo,” I said breathlessly, slapping my friend on his broad back.
Terry nodded and we both stood wordlessly as we caught our breath and tried to make sense of our situation. I looked back to the eagle and gave it a silent thank you. There was no doubt that it had saved Terry’s life. I was glad to see that it continued to watch over us.
“How are we supposed to beat something like that?” Terry asked. “How do we fight a monster?”
I found that I had no answer for that.
The fire blazed in the barrel, but there was no more fuel to add. I looked at the nearby woods which was full of dead-fall. I knew better than to risk going after any. The run had caused me to work up a sweat and I suddenly found myself cold and wet. I shivered as I stood over the fire and I held my hands very close to the flames. Snowflakes began to swirl on the wind as the light slowly drained from the brooding sky. I wondered about that; how long had we been here? Surely, it couldn’t have been more than a few hours, but the darkening sky was telling me different. Terry must’ve noticed this, too.
“This can’t be good,” he said.
I shook my head as the snowstorm intensified. From deep in the woods there came a sound of terrible laughter. I wanted to run, but where would I run to?
“Tell me about what happened.” I said to Terry, wanting to change the subject. “Did you ever apologize to Doug for stealing the money?”
Terry stiffened at the question. He looked at me for a long moment before speaking. “Of course I did. I apologized every day for ten long years. I wrote him letters, begging for forgiveness. He came to visit me on the inside and he did forgive me. What about you, Billy? Can you forgive me?”
I paused for a second, trying to choose the right words. Terry must’ve taken it the wrong way.
“What do you know about a gambling addiction? Huh? Have you ever woke up and found yourself sitting at a slot machine with a pocket-full of ATM receipts and not a nickel to your name? Have you ever lost your family because of an addiction? I was married, Billy, and we were expecting a child. Sophie left me and I never heard from her again. Still, I couldn’t stop myself. I was working for the highway department and pulling down some good money, but I pissed it all away on those damned machines. Go ahead and judge me if that makes you feel better, Mr. High and Mighty.”
I pointed a finger at Terry and tried to remain calm as I spoke. “I know all about gambling addictions,” I said. “I went through a living hell because my wife was bitten by the gambling bug. We lost everything and then some. I divorced her because of it. No, Terry, I know exactly what you’re talking about. I just want to know one thing…”
“Yeah, well what’s that?”
“I want to know if you’re clean.”
Terry gave me a hard look, but then he smiled broadly. “Clean? Are you kidding me? You are looking at the new and improved Terry Blackbird. At the halfway house they let me go to Gamblers Anonymous five days a week and I plan on speaking at the area schools. I’m trying to put my life back together, man. I’m getting there, one day at a time.”
“That’s good,” I said. “I’m very happy to hear that.” And I meant it. I could see in Terry’s face the pride he felt about his new way of life. He was bucking the system because the casino was a huge moneymaker for the Band. The casinos were both the best thing that had happened on the reservations and the worst.
A sound rumbled from the direction of the barn and both Terry and I were startled by it. A single headlight shone through the gathering gloom and it slowly made its way in our direction. I immediately recognized this as a snowmobile and I turned to face Terry.
“Odd Whitefeather?” he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. Who else could it have been? I returned my gaze to the approaching sled and watched it approach the fire. The sleek machine stopped just a few feet away and the helmeted driver killed the engine. The snowmobile was towing a small sleigh which was loaded high with split oak. The driver removed his helmet and sure enough, it was Odd Whitefeather. His long white hair spilled out from inside the helmet and he smiled.
“I thought you might like some more wood,” he said.
“Yeah,” said Terry. “Thanks.” He then walked to the sleigh and chose a couple of chunks to add to our dwindling fire.
“The snow,” said Odd Whitefeather, glancing up to the sky. “It is not a good sign. The Windigo is going to try to freeze us out.”
I nodded. With the snow had come bitterly cold temperatures, which seemed to be dropping by the minute. “What can we do?” I asked.
“Keep the fire going and pray to the Great Spirit for strength,” replied Odd Whitefeather. He was wearing the same snowmobile clothing as the Windigo had earlier and I stepped back as he got off of his machine. “Don’t worry,” he said. “This time it’s really me. The Windigo is much too smart to try the same ruse twice.”
“Just checking,” I said.
Odd Whitefeather began to say something when a loud crashing sound came from behind us. There was just enough light left in the sky for me to see the big barn fall in on itself. I held my hand to my mouth and stifled a scream. What I saw next to the barn was the giant form of an Indian Brave, dressed in buckskins, wild hair flying in the wind. The thing was nearly thirty feet tall and a great golden star was glowing on its forehead.
“Windigo,” whispered Odd Whitefeather.
“Oh shit,” said Terry.
“Oh shit is right,” replied Odd Whitefeather. “This is not good.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off the beast. I watched as it swatted at the ruined pile of timbers and sent them flying in the direction of the house. I began to back away towards the woods.
“Stay by the fire!” ordered Odd Whitefeather. “You’ll be dead if you don’t!”
The Windigo continued to destroy the barn and I hoped that our friend, the Eagle, had flown away before he began his assault. I could taste the fear in my mouth and I shivered because of it.
The Windigo stopped and turned to face us, holding his great hands on his hips in triumph. It then looked towards the house.
“Don’t,” pleaded Odd Whitefeather.
As if he’d heard the old man, the Windigo let out an explosive whoop and charged the little house. He pried up on the roof and tossed it up into the air like a garbage can lid. It sailed on the breeze before crashing onto the driveway. He then began to kick at the walls, knocking them over as if they were made of snow. Soon, there was nothing left but a pile of rubble.
“The son-of-a-bitch,” muttered Odd Whitefeather. “Now he’s really pissed me off.”
Somehow, I found some comfort in those words. I knew Odd Whitefeather was our only hope and I thought it was better that he now had a stake in this. Vengeance is a powerful motivator, and I hoped Odd Whitefeather could harvest it, old as he was.
I returned my gaze to the ruined homestead and found that the Windigo had vanished. I stuck my hands deep into the flames and prayed like I’d never prayed before.
We stood there by the fire in the driving snow and nobody said a word. Mostly, I was just scared out of my wits, but a part of me was very angry at the Windigo and I longed to kill it. I tried to hang onto that. I gazed out into the twilight and surveyed the carnage. There was a lone building standing on Odd Whitefeather’s homestead, the outhouse. I wondered which one of us would have to use it first.
After a long while, Terry said. “I’m gettin’ out of here, this is crazy.”
Odd Whitefeather nodded. “Go, fly away, Blackbird. Maybe you’d like to take my machine?”
Terry seemed to consider this for a m
oment. He looked at the new Polaris and then back to Odd Whitefeather. It was as if I wasn’t even there. “I could ride for help,” he said, buttoning the top button on the musty coat the old man had given him. He sat on the seat of the Polaris snowmobile. “I’ll bring back the cops; they’ll know what to do.”
“Sure,” said Odd Whitefeather, handing Terry the helmet. “That’s a good idea; go bring some policemen out here. Bring the army, Blackbird, they’ll know what to do. Wait, I forgot to tell you something, they’re not here. You and me and Billy, we’re the only ones here. Don’t you understand; we’re in the netherworld. We’re here to kill the Windigo and rescue your friend.”
Something inside of me snapped and I was suddenly climbing on the machine, behind Terry. “Let’s get the hell outta here, man,” I said. “I can’t do this.”
Odd Whitefeather looked at me with eyes that blazed in the firelight. “You,” he shouted at Terry, pointing a gloved finger in his face. “I can understand why a man like you would run. You have no honor. You have no pride. You’re a snake, that’s what you are. Go ahead and leave, I will fight this thing alone.” The cords were standing out in his
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