Vaguely, Lenny heard the boys behind him scream in terror but then he fell to the ground in a faint. Yet even as he fell, he saw the monster reach out its two arms and seize hold of the three teenagers. As his dazzled eyes started to fade into death’s blind sleep, Lenny watched as the monster drew each of the boys close to its flame-filled maw and chomped their heads off with a loud crunch.
With a screech that filled the woods—setting whatever wildlife that lingered fleeing in haste —the monster threw the teenagers’ still gushing, headless bodies down in the blood-spattered snow and leaned over the dwarf. Lenny stared up at it in a dumb stupor.
He found himself thinking, Now that I’m dying, I might as well study the monster that devoured my enemies and is about to devour me…
Instead, words formed in his mind… no, not words, as much as thoughts and images. Will you be strong and tall like me? the beast asked.
Lenny, not knowing what else to do, nodded.
The creature reached its long, slimy hand down to caress Lenny’s cheek. The smell of putrid, rotting flesh filled the dwarf’s nostrils and he saw that every inch of the creature’s body was raw with seeping sores.
It asked, Will you throw off the shackles of this ruined flesh and travel with me as companion… or shall you perish?
Lenny couldn’t grasp what the creature was really asking but he had lived so long in pain, peril, hardship and suffering, the thought of respite brought a smile to his lips. He grinned and said, “Yes! Yes, I will! Please…”
The eyes of the beast glowed even brighter and then Lenny felt the monster’s fingers on his chest. Heat, at first blessed and then as hot and painful as hellfire, filled his body and he screamed so loud his vocal chords ripped apart.
Finally, Lenny Turnbull convulsed on the snow and died. After a moment, monstrous arms lifted him high into the air and carried him to the top of a jagged, lonely peak where he would, eventually, become other.
*
Days passed, and then weeks. Months turned into years as Lenny’s transition into an immortal predator took place. The monster that changed him came and went, intent upon its own prerogatives. But sometimes, when it remembered, it would check on the dwarf, mildly interested in the process of becoming Wendigo but mostly driven by its own need for companionship.
Lenny’s mortal body had long since become unrecognizable; the dwarf now resembled a boulder cast within a sea of lava. Red molten waves of fire moved across the boulder’s surface, smoke and flames spurted outward, occasionally filling the monster’s vast cave with the odor of brimstone.
The dwarf dreamed. Sometimes his dreams were filled with lust for human death… the rendering of limbs, the sweet taste of blood, and the delectable power that filled his soul when hearing the death cry of those beings. These were the dreams that finally broke the stone that, for decades, had encased his mortal remains.
But sometimes his dreams were that of the little dwarf named Lenny Turnbull and those dreams were tender—he remembered the kindness that had been shown him, as well as the fury and scorn. He knew now that humans were frail and frightened beings; not all bad and not all good but somewhere in between. And he was able to differentiate and forgive those people who had done him ill.
He recalled Mayor Wallings who had paid his way to New Orleans, and the giant, Tom Kidwell. He recalled the kindness of Auntie Min, the sweet face of Martha, and the stern generosity of the animal trainer named Hildy.
As the years passed, however, the monster that had been passed on to him through the lonely touch of another such as he took precedence. Bloodlust replaced forgiveness; the need to kill and maim subsumed what tender humanity was left of Lenny’s soul.
Thirty years later, in the winter of 1877, the large stone cooled and broke apart like an ungodly egg. From within the shards a form uncurled itself and sat up with a low growl.
It looked about in wonder—first at the long, long legs on its own body and next at its sinewy but slimy arms. It blinked its huge glowing eyes and saw the world through a red haze.
It gazed for a moment upon another beast that was much like it; staring from across the cave and looking down, it felt its own heart, icy and aching.
And, finally, it screamed… both in ecstasy and in horror of what it had become.
Part Two
Chance
The man who meets a monster
Must look to his heart.
His eyes might deny the horror
And his mind abhor
The mystical lore
Of evil incarnate
On this Earthly plane…
But still…
It is the heart’s claim
To which the monster
Will appeal
The heart of a good man
Which will heal ~
Chapter Eight
1908
Back in the Army
Chance stuck a finger under his sky-blue, stand-up collar and scratched at the newly-pinned insignia decorating his dress uniform. He also stifled a sigh. It was an almost unheard of honor to be promoted to captain without ever once engaging troops in actual battle, but it also spoke volumes to the rumors that had been circulating lately… that the United States of America was gearing up for war.
Too many things were happening in Europe to be ignored by the U.S.; things that to Chance’s mind signaled the fact that a full-scale campaign might be imminent. William the Second of Germany seemed hell-bent on ruling all of Europe much to the dismay of Russia, France and Britain, all of which had recently signed an accord called the Triple Entente in order to thwart the German ruler’s ambitions.
His territorial designs did not end in Europe, however, but extended to the east as well. He had recently meddled in the affairs of the Ottoman Empire and had managed to ruin relations between Austria and Hungary; he had even ruffled the royal feathers of the Moroccan Empire.
Nothing serious enough had happened quite yet to entice America to join the fray but Chance did not doubt that, if push came to shove and if the Triple Entente asked, America would be obligated to cross the briny sea and join guns with their allies against further German expansionism.
It was the reason he had just been re-commissioned into active service in the Army. The military was puffing its chest, both figuratively and literally, in preparation of war. The problem, though, was that he had just gotten married.
Two weeks earlier, both he and his father Matthew had been married in a joint ceremony on the Imes’ ranch. After many long and lonely years, Matthew had found a woman who could fill the empty place his first wife, Iris, had left behind when she was murdered.
Annie Thurston was a news reporter, a fierce and loyal friend, and now Chance’s stepmother. Although he would never forget or stop loving his own mother, he thought that Annie was a fine woman—attractive, strong, intelligent—and, more importantly, just the balm needed to heal the rift in his father’s heart.
His own new wife—Hannah—was the sweetest, bravest, smartest, most beautiful girl in the world… at least in his mind. He had met the young woman earlier this spring while he and his father were investigating a rash of murders and claim-jumps around the Wallace, Idaho mining district.
At first, Chance thought she was a male. And rightly so since she was introduced as a young man known as Hans Lindsay who wore filthy boy’s clothing and had her glossy black hair pinned up under an ever-present slouch hat. But time had revealed the truth and, with time, their mutual love had blossomed.
Now, only two weeks after their wedding night and all the joys the marriage bed had to offer, he was being called up on active duty. Honestly, I am as much of a patriot as the next fella but the timing couldn’t be worse, he thought with a grimace as he buttoned up his blue pants.
“Are you ready, Captain?” the young man who had just been promoted to first lieutenant called out to him.
“Yes, I’ll be out in a moment,” Chance replied from the officer’s latrine at Fort George Wright in S
pokane Falls.
He had been notified by telephone that he was to report to the fort at 1:00 today. When Chance had responded “Yes, sir!” to the officer’s order, Matthew had looked up from his desk in watchful alarm as Annie stopped working on her own notes and studied the faces of both her husband and stepson.
As soon as he hung up and sat down, Matthew had said, “Well, it’s true then.”
Chance answered, “Nothing has been announced yet, Pa, but I think you’re right.”
In a rare burst of temper, Matthew tossed his pen onto the pile of loose papers on his desktop, spilling the inkpot that sat open next to the leather blotter. Without a word, Annie grabbed an already ink-soaked rag to wipe up the mess.
Glancing at the lovely brown-haired woman who bent over his desk with a patient smile on her face, Matthew muttered, “Oh! I am sorry, dear. I wasn’t thinking…”
Annie grinned. “Well, you were thinking all right, but not about your paperwork!” She added, “I think we could use some tea…,” and stepped out of the room. Matthew watched her leave, then turned to face his son.
“Chance, I might be able to persuade the commanding officer that I need you here at home working for the agency. Also, you are my only son. Even the War Department is loath to sacrifice a man’s only son to the vagaries of battle.”
Chance put his brandy on the side table and counted to three as he felt the heat of anger rising on his face. He didn’t want to argue with Matthew but he would not let his father keep him from doing his patriotic duty. They had fought about this more than once. Although he adored him, his pa had taken steps in the past which had prevented Chance from fighting for his country’s liberty and he would not allow that to happen again.
“You will not call the general, Father… not this time. If I am to be called up for active duty, you will oblige me not to interfere. I know you don’t like war. Neither do I, but I am honor-bound to serve my country if they ask it of me.” Despite his best intentions, he heard the sharpness in his voice and wished it away.
Looking over at Matthew who sat staring morosely at the flames flickering in the fireplace, Chance saw that his eyes were moist with unshed tears. He upended his brandy-glass and got up from his chair to stand next to Matthew.
Putting a hand on his father’s shoulder, Chance said, “Listen, Pa… I have to go to the fort tomorrow and I’ll find out what’s in store for me. Until then, let’s try not to worry about it or fight over what hasn’t happened yet, okay?”
Now, studying the new insignia on his collar in the mirror above the sink, Chance could just imagine his father’s reaction. Captains in the U.S. Army fought… period.
At this point in time, he was only expected to run drills on the triangular parade grounds of the fort three days a week and serve as messenger boy for the command post’s many military missives, as needed. The message was clear, however: Get ready, Chance Wilcox, the Army needs you and you will serve whether you want to or not.
He stepped out into the hall and followed the lieutenant outside onto the new parade grounds. It was remarkable to see so many Negro faces doing standard drills; this was now home to the Buffalo soldiers formerly known as Company M of the 24th Infantry.
The citizens of Spokane had put up quite a fuss when the Negro soldiers first arrived but the general in charge was having none of their nonsense and, in response to their ingrained prejudice, had set up the soldiers to do much of the population’s dirty work.
They fought fires, cleaned up the city’s garbage, hosted musical parades, and kept the citizens of the city safe from outside hostilities. Now the Negro forces were much beloved and cherished by the community as important civic servants.
Chance walked along the edge of the grounds, saluting many soldiers who spied his rank and came to an abrupt halt to honor a highly-ranked officer; he was making his way toward his automobile with the lieutenant dogging his heels, reciting orders from a list in his hands.
“Did you get all that, sir?”
“Yes, Lieutenant, although there wasn’t that much to get. Basically, show up here next Tuesday for parade drills and a briefing. Right?”
“Yes, sir. 8:00 a.m. sharp, sir!” the young man said.
“Right. Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll see you then,” Chance replied, got in his pa’s car, and drove away.
Chapter Nine
A Terrible Encounter
He arrived back home by 5:00 p.m. and was relieved to find his father in a better mood and fairly calm at the news of his sudden promotion. For his part, Matthew knew that, barring an immediate call to war, Chance was not going anywhere at present but was only expected to be an Army runabout. He could live with that.
Matthew and Annie were scheduled to have dinner with the Spokane mayor and a number of city officials later on that evening. Frank Lobey, the Spokane County sheriff, was fixing to retire and this fancy dinner meeting was yet another lure designed to entice Matthew Wilcox into filling Lobey’s vacant position.
Matthew had remained steadfast in his desire to stay out of public office but he was beginning to reconsider. How on earth could he run a private detective agency by himself? It was almost unfeasible. For one thing, more than one set of legs and ears were needed to gather intelligence. Sure, he had his junior assistant, Chen Li, but the boy was still too young and green to be an effective investigator.
Annie volunteered but Matthew had already lost one wife to violent criminals—he wasn’t about to sacrifice another no matter how game she was.
They asked Chance if he wanted to join them for the evening but he said no, thank you. He planned on heading into North Idaho the following morning to see his wife, Hannah. Earlier this year, she had found a spot on her father’s land she was sure was rich with silver and maybe even gold.
Due to recompense from the wife of a criminal perpetrator in exchange for a more lenient jail sentence, Hannah’s father was able to buy some high-end drilling equipment, extra men to do the heavy lifting, and a team of oxen to haul what was most likely ore up out of a rocky ravine close to their home.
Hannah had left the Imes’ ranch a week after their wedding to oversee the new equipment start-up. She was due home on Monday but knowing he would be reporting for duty on Tuesday, Chance wanted to spend the weekend with her. She was another family member he knew would not be at all pleased with his promotion to captain.
Wishing his parents a good night, he set about packing for the trip into North Idaho, put his uniform away and went to bed early.
The next morning, Matthew was up early to wish his son a safe journey. He sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading a pile of papers that sat in front of his breakfast plate. Smiling, he looked up when Chance walked in and poured himself a cup.
“Good morning. Heading out so soon?” he asked as Chance sat down at the table.
“Yes,” Chance replied. “The first train leaves at 8:00 a.m. I wanted to do a little shopping in Spokane before I head into Idaho.”
Matthew grinned. “More wedding presents for the bride?”
Chance blushed. “Well, I did order a dressing gown for the wedding night which didn’t arrive in time. It’s in now, though, and I thought I’d surprise her with it. Mainly, I need to buy a few extra parts for the mining equipment and I promised to pick up a couple of barrels of oil.”
Matthew stared at his son’s face. “Does she know about your promotion yet?”
Chance shook his head. “No, I’ll tell her tonight. She’s not going to be happy about it.”
“I know,” Matthew replied. “Say, speaking of shopping, Annie and I got this for you last night.” He placed a small jewelry box in front of his son.
Frowning slightly, Chance removed the lid and stared at the custom gold and silver U.S. Army belt buckle twinkling up at him from the folds of cream-colored silk. Most officers, unless they were in actual combat, were encouraged to make the most of their dress uniforms. The War Department felt that “proper embellishment” showed
pride and honor to the service and made a good public impression.
Still, of all things, this present from his “anti-war” father was the least expected and, therefore, very special. “Th-thanks, Pa,” Chance said softly. “I really appreciate this.”
“Well, you can thank Annie for the idea. She wanted to show you how proud we are of you and I’m no good at knowing how to say stuff like that.”
Chance grinned. “It’s okay, Pa. I know you mean well.”
“Hmmm, well… I might not be so gracious when it comes time for you to ship out.”
Chance finished his coffee and said, “All right, I’d better get going if I’m going to make the train.”
“Do you want to borrow one of the newspaper’s automobiles once you reach Spokane?” Matthew asked.
“Nah. I’m going to ride from Wallace to the Lindsay’s house. Jacob is going to meet me at the train station with his wagon for the supplies but he has to stay the night. I’ll just go ahead on horseback.”
“Okay, well, be safe. It’ll be dark most of the way and I hear a winter storm might be moving in from the north.”
“I’ll be fine, Pa,” Chance assured his father and then ran back upstairs; he washed and put on a dress shirt. Then, after some consideration, he also replaced his old steel belt buckle with the new one his folks had purchased for him. It was a beautiful piece and, for some reason, gave him renewed confidence and pride in his promotion.
If nothing else, I’ll hold on to it for strength when I tell Hannah, he thought with a wry smile.
*
Later, after he picked up the goods his father-in-law needed and a lovely white lace nightgown he had ordered for his new bride, Chance boarded the train for Wallace. Two and a half hours later, he met Jacob Lindsay, helped load the oil and parts into the back of the man’s wagon, and lingered long enough to share a beer and dinner.
Heart of Ice (Deadman Series Book 6) Page 5