Dead North: Canadian Zombie Fiction

by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

  “Christopher, listen to me.”

  He didn’t look at me, but I continued anyway. “The forest is alive with death. I come out here to run and – well, bite, and gnaw, and chew. I confess. I bit you out there in the woods.”

  “You bit me?” he asked.

  Another crash outside frightened us both, and we leapt atop the table. I stood ready to do battle, while he balanced like a stork. “If any of the critters outside that door get in here you will be eaten. You’re pulsing with life. They’ll tear you apart and there will be nothing left of you, my woodland friend.”

  “I’d rather it go that way,” he said.

  “No! No, you don’t know what you’re saying. I’m sorry I bit you, but there was nothing left alive in the forest for me to bite. I couldn’t stop myself from stalking you. Okay, that’s not entirely true. Dr. Bruno says I can stop myself. Yet, consistently, my choice has been to turn every creature in these woods, and the very worst are the deer. They’re horrid. They’re savage.”

  “Whatever,” he said. All hope gone from his voice. Then the two zombears crashed through the door. Baby zombear clambered in over the window frame.

  ∆ ∆ ∆

  It was over pretty quickly. Papa bear hadn’t left any traces of the young man. Christopher would never be back, except as a steaming pile somewhere in the woods. Papa wouldn’t even let Baby bear have a bone. Mama bear tried to clean up, but it was too messy; she only made it worse. It wouldn’t take much time for everyone to get hungry again in these hundreds of acres of woods…and didn’t Christopher say he’d lost his pet? I licked my lips. I’d have to go find it. I was pretty sure I saw a new movie cast and crew out there shooting in the woods, a story about Little Red Riding Hood. Just thinking about her skipping alone along the trail made me drool. She needed a friend.

  Once upon a time the three bears lived in Little-Daughter’s woods and then worked for the movie industry, that is, until Baby bear bit me. Okay, that’s not entirely true. If the three bears hadn’t frightened me by waking me from my deep, deep slumber, not with a kiss, but a growl, I probably would not have chomped down on Baby bear first.

  THE LAST KATAJJAQ

  Carrie-Lea Côté

  Wiping the sweat from my brow, I smiled warmly at the woman standing opposite me. Sweat streamed down her face and she was smiling broadly too. The rest of my family and village sat in a circle around us, pounding their boots on the ground in a show of appreciation for the round of katajjaq my mother and I had just performed.

  Breathless, I smiled wider as my mother clasped my arms and rubbed the tip of her nose to mine. Her eyes were shining with pride.

  “You did very well, my little Kanguyak. You kept up so well this time!” She smiled wider and I couldn’t help but blush.

  It was hard to keep up with the Elders when singing, but with all the practice over the long winter, I was ready to perform for the Spring Ceremony. With a last squeeze on my arm, my mother turned to embrace my father briefly before moving to talk to Qilaq, our Medicine Woman. Our Angatkut.

  With spring fully here, we had a busy season ahead of us. Mother wanted to make sure that Qilaq’s needs were noted, and supplies gathered for her ceremonies and medicines.

  I fetched a drink and stood near the tent door, still getting my breath back and enjoying the breeze that came in. Sipping my water from a bone cup, I felt at peace watching the happy milling of people in the multiple-hide tent we set up for larger gatherings.

  Distracted as I was, I didn’t hear my eldest sister Chulyin come up behind me with my brother Uyarak in tow. I was suddenly shoved gently from behind. Turning quickly, so as not to scuff my new slippers, I saw her laughing face.

  “You did good! So good in fact, I think you get to be the big sister now. Enjoy.” Grabbing my hand, she put Uyarak’s into it, and moved off quickly. I wrinkled my nose at her, and knew for sure that she would be running off to sneak some quiet time with her sweetheart, Nauja. I was also willing to bet that by the end of the spring he would be asking my father for her hand in marriage.

  I sighed and looked down at Uyarak. “Did you enjoy the show, little brother?” Sweeping him up into my arms, I carried him over to where some food and drink were set up. It was mostly dried fare, and was small pickings, but it was shared by all. It was also a fitting display, because it served as a reminder of how close we were to our first fishing trip of the year. I always loved the fresh roe from the fish we netted.

  “Kanguyak did good! I liked! Uya want to sing too.” He clapped his chubby little hands together and squirmed in my grip.

  I laughed and put him down beside my youngest brother, Tattilgat. He was fast asleep this late in the evening. To keep Uyarak settled I handed him a strip of dried fish to chew. “You might be able when you’re older, Uyarak. But maybe you want to drum, like father?” Uyarak looked in the direction I pointed where our father sat with my uncle, then back to me.

  “No. Uya want sing!” He dropped his fish into his lap, took a deep breath and started to make a long series of garbling and grunting sounds. I shrugged and sat down beside him, content to let him fill the little area with his noise, just so long as it didn’t wake Tattilgat.

  He was more than happy to oblige.

  The next morning we were up early to prepare for a day of fishing. I’d like to say we were up before the sun, but it had neared the time of year where the sun never set. The best we got for darkness was around the spring, when the sun swung low and almost disappeared behind the horizon, but not quite. I had crawled from our caribou-hide tent and quickly did up my outer coat, pulling the hood over my head. There was a little bite of cold still left in the spring air.

  Mother handed me a piece of sealskin that was thickly lined with fat to chew on, while I helped to stretch out and untangle any knots in the sinew net.

  I wasn’t yet quite old enough to fish in deeper water with the three-pronged fishing spear, so I got to do the nets with the other children. Tattilgat and Uyarak played loudly in the rocks nearby; I made sure to keep an eye on them. Looking out to the exposed water edge, I saw my uncle showing Chulyin how to hold a spear.

  Chewing absently, I hummed while my practiced fingers found tangles and eased them straight. My mind was full of anticipation for the catch we hoped to get today.

  I was so absorbed that I almost jumped when one of the other women shouted a warning. I quickly dropped my net and scooped up Tattilgat, looking to where the other women and children were pointing. It wasn’t unusual for a starved polar bear to come hunting us this early in the year. I frowned and squinted at the lumbering shape emerging from the tundra, slowly coming towards us. Nets forgotten, a few of the women picked up nearby spears and a few braver children had rocks.

  I grabbed hold of Uyarak’s hand, and shifted Tattilgat on to my hip. I didn’t trust what I saw, and wanted to be able to run if I had to.

  The shambling thing looked like a man, standing on two unsteady legs, and its arms stretched out by its sides stiffly. Its clothing was like nothing I had ever seen before. There were parts of it covered with fur and leather, but these were stained and ripped. It looked almost like an animal had been chewing on it for the better part of a season. Also draped here and there was what looked like a shirt, but made with fish scales. Dull grey fish scales with holes in them. The thing took a step, halted, teetered a little, then took another step. Over and over. It moved like nothing natural, and from the fearful talk around me, that sentiment was felt by the others.

  What I assumed was hair stuck out in a matted and filth-riddled hood around the head. It looked almost yellow, like a well-tanned hide. Weirder still, the skin was a strange pale greyish-blue colour. Like dirty snow or ice.

  As I stood and stared, Uyarak pulled on my hand and made a fearful noise as he backed up. I shook my head and looked down at him; his little cheeks were streaked with tears.

  I looked back at the thing coming nearer to us. Its mouth opened and closed. Opened and closed like a la
nded fish. Its teeth clicking together sharply in the cold air each time its mouth closed.

  And then it moaned.

  A horrible, loud and guttural sound. The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up and I shivered.

  “An Evil Spirit! Grab the children and get away from here!” One of the women in the group broke the trance we were in, retreating as she shouted.

  The cry was taken up by the others around me, and wasting no time, I followed Uyarak’s insistent pull away from the shambling thing.

  One of the men ran from the edge of the water towards the creature, his spear held high and with intent. His steps faltered over the uneven and rocky ground, but his strike was true. He yelled as he drove his spear straight and deep into the chest of the creature, tearing flesh and cracking bones with a horrible wet noise. We could hear the wet ‘“thunk” from where we stood; his face was a grimace as he drove it deeper still. And suddenly Qilaq screamed.

  “Umiak! NO! It is a tuurngait! It will not die by a spear! Run! Run now! Umiak!”

  Umiak turned and looked towards us, as if deciding. He took his eyes off the creature too long, and it lurched towards him, grabbing him with hands whose fingers were nothing but sharp bone ends.

  We watched in frozen horror as the tuurngait’s mouth snapped as quickly as a bear’s, latching onto Umiak’s neck and tearing a great hunk of flesh away. The blood spurted strongly, pouring down the side of his neck in great gouts timed with his heartbeat.

  Umiak screamed and screamed and screamed.

  I quickly turned Uyarak’s face into my thigh and covered Tattilgat’s ears.

  The screaming increased as the tuurngait pulled Umiak tighter to its body. We could hear his bones breaking as it did, and then it took another large chunk from his body with another ripping bite. This time from his shoulder.

  Umiak flailed and knocked its feet out from under it, bringing them both to the rocky ground beneath.

  The hunters of the village stood ringed around the unarmed women and children, bone weapons ready, but really, everyone just stared in horror. No one sure how to even approach the writhing tangle that was the creature and Umiak.

  Qilaq kept screaming for us to stay back. It was hard to hear her over Umiak.

  He kept screaming and screaming, shriller and shriller each time the tuurngait’s head pulled back violently with another piece of his flesh in its jaws. His body jerked as he fought with all he had against the creature that was slowly and methodically eating him alive. As Umiak groped along the ground, his hand closed upon a rock. He brought that up in a hard swing, smashing it right into the temple of the bloodstained, yellow-haired creature. Caving its temple in. It bellowed loudly and flopped onto Umiak, twitching once, and then was still.

  Umiak’s thrashing stilled a heartbeat later, and his eyes stared into the sky, past pain now as his blood continued to sink into the cold rocky ground.

  I sobbed and held my brothers tighter. I heard Umiak’s mate scream, and was sure she would have run to him, but for Qilaq’s warning, and the hands of her family holding her back.

  She sobbed and cried his name over and over, and before long the rest of the village had taken up her note of grief.

  Our voices rose into the air to grieve the man who had slain the evil spirit.

  We milled about as a group around the fire in the Gathering Tent.

  It was quieter, and so very, very different from the gathering just the night before.

  Once Qilaq had deemed it safe for us to approach Umiak and the demon, Umiak’s family had cleaned, dressed and wrapped his body for burial.

  It lay covered with stones on a sledge far outside the village. His family would drag it out to the tundra to bury under a cairn in the morning when the sky was brighter.

  The tuurngait had been festooned with amulets of Qilaq’s making.

  Amulets to appease it.

  Amulets begging it to not continue its wrath among our people.

  And other amulets whose sole purpose was to beg the forgiveness of the Spirits that had sent the tuurngait in their anger.

  Once Qilaq had decided there were enough, it was weighted with rocks, wrapped in a hide, and pushed over the edge of a fishing boat to sink down into the icy depths of the ocean.

  Now the Elders argued what steps to take next.

  I had long ago given up on listening to the yelling of the village. So far removed from the normal, quiet and lengthy debates I was used to, this one raged and would not be reasoned with.

  I sat as far from the tent door as I could, my knees were drawn up and I rocked myself back and forth, wishing comfort, but unable to find it. My brothers were both cuddled in the embrace of my parents, and even Chulyin found comfort in Nauja’s arms. I was left on my own at the moment, and couldn’t remember feeling so alone in my life.

  The yelling had ceased to be original a while ago, and now the same things were yelled back and forth.

  “We should leave immediately! We obviously have done something to anger the Spirits, and shouldn’t stay here!”

  “We should stay and find out why the Spirits are so angry, and fix what has been done!”

  “Find out what happened!”

  “Leave!”

  “Stay!”

  “NO!”

  “YES!”

  It went on and on and yet never came closer to the end. Things were so unruly that even people who traditionally had very little say in the decision-making process were yelling.

  The quietest of the Elders was Qilaq. She sat there, smoking her pipe and looking at each member of the village evenly. Quietly.

  I used to feel warmth in me when she singled me out for her attentions, but tonight, it made me shiver that every so often her gaze lingered on me, and then started to roam again.

  I bit my lip and tried to make myself smaller as I wedged my body closer in between two of my cousins who continued to yell at the top of their lungs.

  It was madness in the tent, and several of the younger children had started to cry at this point.

  Finally, Qilaq stood up and cleared her throat. I watched in amazement as she was ignored and had to raise her hands above her head and call for attention before she was noticed.

  Such disrespect wasn’t even shown by children.

  “This is solving nothing, and is making everything else worse. Your voices have all been heard. Loudly. Repeatedly. And now I will ask that everyone except the Elders who help me in my Walking to leave. Take your children home and hang your worries outside your tents. I will talk with the Spirits tonight, and tomorrow we will discuss what I have learned.”

  It was a relief to my ears that the yelling had stopped, and a relief to my heart that Qilaq would talk with the Spirits. The faith we had in our Angatkut was absolute, and with a few parting grumbles, the people of our village slowly left the tent, family by family.

  I couldn’t scurry after my mother and father fast enough.

  The next morning started slowly. So few of us found sleep easily that night, except for my brothers. I was sure it was the same in other tents and families too. Mother and Father whispered most of the night, and I could hear Chulyin tossing in her furs. Sleep didn’t come to me easily, either. I kept worrying about what would happen to our village and our people if we had to leave our summer camp. Having enough time to store up food was a major concern in our short season.

  My mother came over to me and gave me a quick embrace before handing me a small strip of dried whale. I took it and looked up to her for an inkling of support. But she was too withdrawn into her own thoughts to notice me. Mechanically, I started to chew on the dried meat.

  Umiak’s father had gone to check on the body, ensuring that no animals had disturbed it while we slept.

  Of his mate, there was no sign that morning.

  I assumed she was still in her family tent.

  We didn’t mill around long before Qilaq came out of the Gathering Tent. She was heavily assisted by Buniq, the woman who wo
uld take her place when she went to join the Spirits.

  Qilaq looked tired. Exhausted even. Her skin had a grey pallor to it, and her eyes seemed to have shrunk back into her head, leaving the skin to hang in deep bags beneath them.

  I shifted my feet and wished I could have held on to my mother’s hand, but she was holding Tattilgat. I looked briefly to the rest of my family, and again, Father was holding on to Uyarak, and Chulyin was with Nauja.

  I sniffled a little and hugged myself, continuing to chew the whale meat.

  Qilaq coughed, still supported by Buniq, and everyone quieted immediately, intent on what she had learned as she Walked among the Spirits while we slept.

  “My children…What I learned, what I heard, while Walking last night. We cannot stay here—” A sudden murmuring rose from the crowd, and Buniq raised her hand for silence in Qilaq’s stead. She frowned her disapproval at the interruption. “As I was saying. We cannot stay here. There is no anger in our Spirits, and that was no tuurngait. The Spirits tell me that the thing who took our Umiak away from us is a creature that has no Name to the Other World, and cannot be stopped without heavy consequences. And there will be more of them.” As she paused to gather her words and a breath, an uneasy mumble started up among the families. They were scared.

  “We must leave this place and go farther north along the coast. We will meet up with Brother Tribes, and pass the warning on to them. If they take heed, it will be up to them, but our immediate concern will be getting food for the winter. I have learned that these creatures slow in the cold. That they will stop during the winter months, but beyond that I cannot See any more.” Qilaq sighed heavily and looked to each of us, her eyes bright with unshed tears.