Windigo Soul Read online

  Windigo Soul

  By Robert Brumm

  Second Edition ~ Version 1.0

  Copyright 2012, 2014

  Robert Brumm ~ DeadPixel Publications

  www.robertbrumm.com

  www.deadpixelpublications.com

  This book is intended to be read by adults and may be unsuitable for readers under 17.

  Contains indecent language and descriptions of graphic violence.

  A Quick Note From the Author:

  I published Windigo Soul in early 2012. It’s considered a novella (fancy name for a short book) at around 34,000 words. At the time, I was relieved to finally click that “publish” button and get on with my life. I don’t know about other writers, but by the time I’m finished writing a book, I’m so sick the manuscript, characters, and world I’ve created, I never want to think about it again.

  As the months slipped by, Windigo Soul sold pretty well and most of the reviews were favorable. Other than the constant comparisons to Solyent Green*, something bugged me. I started to feel guilty. I admitted to myself that W.S. was a novella because I wimped out and cut the story short only so I could publish it and move onto something else. A few books under my belt later, I decided to do something about it.

  In late 2013 I dusted off the old manuscript and started re-writing it from scratch. I took away some old stuff, added a bunch of new stuff, and earned the right to drop the “la” from my novella. Although it’s still relatively short, what you’re about to read now clocks in at over 61,000 words. My main goal was to provide a proper ending and spend more time developing the world and people I introduced in the original.

  If you read the first edition, I hope you agree what you are about to read is a vast improvement when you’ve finished. If this is your first time, I hope you enjoy it.

  ~Robert

  *I can honestly say I’d never even heard of Soylent Green when I originally wrote this book. After the third or fourth comparison, I finally borrowed the DVD from the library to see what all the hub-bub was about. IT’S PEOPLE!

  Dedicated to my girl with the broken beans and a heart of gold. Again.

  He is the human who is transformed into a cannibalistic monster by tasting human flesh in time of starvation. His fearsomeness comes from his very closeness to humans. The Windigo is the embodiment of the hidden, terrifying temptation within them to turn to eating other humans when no other food is to be had.

  Algonquian Indian Legend

  Chapter 1

  The clock in the living room sounded two times and he sighed in frustration. It had been such a long day but it wasn’t nearly long enough. He’d run out of days. It was two hours past midnight on the fourteenth of May. Two hours into his sixtieth birthday. His final birthday.

  He let out another long sigh and rolled over on his side, pulling the damp sheet away from his sticky skin. The dark outline of his wife’s body beside him remained motionless and her steady breathing continued. He almost reached out to squeeze her shoulder, to wake her up so he didn’t have to face his insomnia alone, but he let her sleep.

  Hank quietly slipped out of bed and wandered into the living room, pulling a t-shirt over his head along the way. He pulled open the picture window curtains allowing the dim light from the street below into his home. He placed his palm on the pane of glass, clean on his side, filthy on the other, and looked down to the street. By his recollection, it had been well over six months since the landlord had the exterior windows cleaned. The build-up of grime and dirt relentlessly attacking the outside of the building left his living room window almost as cloudy as the frosted shower door down the hall.

  He unlatched the window and pushed it open, the hinges groaning the whole way from years of neglect. Hank held his breath and glanced back at the dark bedroom, waiting to see if the noise woke Peg. Letting in the outside air, even for a minute, would send her into a panic. But Hank had to risk it. The apartment suddenly felt oppressive. His desire to breathe in the night air, overwhelming.

  He leaned out the window and took a deep breath, covering his mouth and attempting to quiet a cough as the air burned his lungs. It had been unseasonably hot over the last few days and the air quality was the worst it had been in months. On most evenings it seemed a little cleaner and easier to breathe than during the daytime, but when it was this hot, there didn’t seem to be too much of a difference.

  Hank watched as an affluent young couple crossed the street below, dressed in bright designer clothes, complete with matching face masks. They walked with light steps and light voices, laughing and holding hands as they rounded the corner and continued on to wherever it was young couples went after midnight.

  He turned his gaze upwards to the sky, hoping by some miracle he’d get a glimpse of the stars or at least the moon. It would have been nice to at least see the moon on his final night, but the usual dirty haze hung over the city like a filthy blanket. Hank closed the window and shut the curtains.

  He rubbed his eyes and coughed into his hands, paying for the few seconds of unfiltered air, as he made his way to the kitchen. The faucet gauge reported just enough water left from the daily ration for a small glass. He waited as the final drops tapered off into the cup before taking a sip and reached for his tablet on the counter.

  Hank pinched the cracked bezel in just the right spot, allowing whatever dodgy connection of wires beneath the plastic to make contact and light up the display. As usual, the desire to buy a new one crossed his mind before the grim realization took hold and he remembered he wouldn’t need it.

  He flipped to his in box and read the notice for what must have been the hundredth time since it arrived last week.

  Congratulations REED, HENRY. After a fulfilling life as a patriotic citizen of the State, your retirement has arrived. You are required by law to report to the Federal Department of Retirement Processing Unit, SECTOR 3, MIDWEST DIVISION, on MAY 14. 10:00 A.M. The United Federation of Nations thanks you in advanced for being prompt.

  The rest of the message went on in a slew of sugarcoated propaganda, trying to convince him of the great patriotic duty he was about to fulfill and the future generations he was saving. He drained the glass and turned to see Peg standing in the doorway.

  “Jesus!” The tablet slipped from his fingers and hit the floor despite Hank’s attempt to grab it in midair. He crouched down and turned it over, cursing under his breath at the spider web of cracks covering the entire glass display.

  Peg caught her breath and squatted to Hank’s level, her knees popping like firecrackers on the way down. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She reached for the device and pinched the familiar magic spot but the screen remained dark. “Is it broken for good this time?”

  “Looks like it.” Hank stood up with a groan. “We were past due for another one anyway. I pass a guy on the corner almost every day selling cheap knockoffs. They’re probably hot, but it would be stupid to buy a new one now.”

  Hank regretted what he said the second it slipped out, and studied Peg’s face for a reaction as she stood up. She was having a hard enough time facing his mortality as it was, and the last thing he intended to do was remind her of her own. She ran her hand absently over the cracked glass and nodded.

  Peg placed the tablet on the counter and dusted off her hands. “You’re thinking about tomorrow, aren’t you? Is that why you left me alone in bed?”

  “Nah,” Hank lied. “Just couldn’t sleep. It’s too damn hot.”

  “Maybe we should just stay up. Put on a pot of coffee and play some cards or something?”

  Hank pointed to the dim CFL bulb humming in the light fixture above. “What, and sit on the floor squinting at the cards?” The kitchen and bathroom were the only lighting circuits active after
nine o’clock. The latest mandate to hit in an attempt to save energy. “No, you need your sleep. Let’s go back to bed.”

  He took her hand and led her back to bed. They laid in silence for a moment before Hank turned to his wife. “Promise me you’ll move in with the kids, Peg. They said they’d be more than happy to have you. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about you buying stolen electronics on the street corner and sweating to death in this dump. You’ll be comfortable there.”

  Peg inhaled deeply through her nose and let out a long sigh. “Honey, please. We’ve been over this a dozen times. I’ll be just fine here by myself, and John and Sara are just a few blocks away. Besides, it’s just a couple of months before my time, too.”

  “It’s four months and I’d feel a lot better if I knew you weren’t alone at night.”

  “I don’t want to hear another word!” Peg flipped on her side and faced him. “I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.”

  Hank knew when to give up. Peg was a stubborn woman and he knew they could argue all night and it wouldn’t do any good. He nodded and gently placed his hand on her check, kissed her on the lips. His intended quick peck lingered into a deep kiss and he pulled her close. They made love and Hank fell into a dreamless sleep, still holding on to his wife. He opened his eyes as the living room clock finished chiming six times.

  Chapter 2

  It took them almost two hours to get to the federal building despite being at the bus stop early enough to take the round trip almost three times. The first two buses were full and the third was over twenty minutes late. There were exactly three empty seats left. Hank and Peg were lucky enough to sit together, their daughter Sara grabbed the last spot in the back.

  As Hank squeezed into the tight space between his wife and a woman unacquainted with clean laundry, he couldn’t help thinking of his family car as a young boy. It was one of the last hybrid electrics to roll off the assembly line – his father’s pride and joy. That was a few years before the economic crash and the war to follow. Soon, private car ownership was unheard of except for the quickly diminishing upper class, far removed from little Hank’s own family.

  The bus rolled over an exceptionally large pot hole, jarring the bus violently and causing more than one passenger to shout out in surprise. Hank could only imagine what it would be like to ride in a quiet car, just the three of them, making the trip from their flat to downtown in less than thirty minutes. Not that he was in a hurry to get there.

  Hank tried to turn around in his seat and get a glimpse of Sara in the back. He’d almost wished she hadn’t joined them, but she insisted. He tried to talk her out of it but Peg’s stubbornness not only passed down to his daughter but multiplied exponentially. His son-in-law John would have joined them as well, but he was out of town on a business trip. John was a big shot consultant at a computer firm and spent a lot of time on the road. He was never quite sure exactly what John did, but he provided a comfortable living for his daughter so Hank never asked too many questions.

  Like a lot of younger people, John carried about him an air of superiority mixed with equal part disdain for Hank’s generation. Seemed like most kids these days thought their shit smelled sweeter than the likes of him. He wondered what thoughts would be going through John’s head when it was his turn to get on the bus for downtown. Arrogant punk probably didn’t even think twice about it, as if it somehow it wouldn’t happen to him when the time came.

  Hank gave up trying to locate Sara and glanced around at the other passengers surrounding him. Even with their respirator masks covering most of their faces, he could still see the misery and hopelessness in their eyes. Even the younger kids who had almost convinced themselves their lives were worth living but were not doing a very good job of it. They looked tired. Tired of living in a filthy world no longer able to support its resource hungry inhabitants. Tired of a corrupt government that manipulated and lied, killing the spirit of the people it supposedly served.

  He would never voice such opinions out loud, of course. At least half of the passengers on the bus would turn him in for sedition if they even suspected such thoughts occupied his mind. The State worked very hard at breeding an atmosphere of mistrust and betrayal amongst the people and it was worse than ever over the last few years.

  But no, Hank was just like everybody else. Hiding behind a false smile and convincing himself and those around him that things were on the mend. Good times were right around the corner, thanks to the State working hard to right the wrongs of previous generations.

  Now that the end was so close, what difference would it make? He could stick his head out the window of the bus and shout anti-establishment slogans all the way downtown. The worst they could do to him was just minutes away no matter what he did.

  The reason he didn’t was the same as it was for everybody else who kept their mouth shut. He had Peg and Sara to think about. Punishment for his crimes would simply transfer to them once his retirement went though.

  As the bus rounded the corner and the government district came into view outside the grimy windows, Hank was beginning to feel glad he was leaving it all behind. But he was also leaving behind his wife and daughter. They were the only pure things in his life. The only good. Peg would be joining him in a few months but Sara was only twenty-seven years old.

  Hank’s biggest regret in life was that he wouldn’t get a chance to meet his grandchild. Sara and John had received their permit almost two years ago but still hadn’t had any luck conceiving. They almost didn’t qualify, something about undesirable recessive gene mapping, but John was able to pull a few strings with the screening committee. A few months ago, cautious optimism turned to crushing disappointment when Sara miscarried. By law, that should have automatically revoked their permit, but John somehow had more strings to pull so they kept trying. Hank and Peg were too scared to ask too many questions. It seemed like the less they knew, the better off it would be for the family.

  Hank wondered if the miscarriage was a sign from God. Perhaps He finally knew better than to allow more babies into His failing world. Perhaps God wouldn’t be handing out new babies at all anymore.

  He turned his attention to Peg and the small shopping bag resting on her lap. “That’s it, huh?”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to see it?” she asked. “I really wish you would.”

  “Yeah, what the hell. Let’s see what you picked out.”

  Peg reached into the bag and pulled out the urn. It wasn’t as fancy as some of the more expensive ones he’d seen in store windows, but it was still pretty nice as far as urns go. Hank would’ve been happy with an old mason jar, but Peg had a sentimental streak. He could’ve argued over the needless expense, but he knew when to pick his battles.

  “I know it’s a peculiar design but the second I saw it I knew it was the right one.” Peg turned the urn in Hank’s hand so the design on the opposite side faced him. A cherub in mid-flight blew on a large horn, two doves on either side of it. A girl on the ground holding a basket of fruit looked up at the flying beings above her, a look of melancholy on her face. Kneeling in front of this girl was an older woman who apparently had dropped her fruit on the ground. She looked up to the girl as if to beg for forgiveness.

  “It’s different, that’s for sure.” Hank unscrewed the lid and ran his fingers across the smooth glaze on the inside of the vessel. He glanced up and locked eyes with a man across the aisle, probably a year or two younger than him. The man swallowed and quickly looked to the floor.

  The bus finally slowed to a creaking halt at their stop and they made their way through the crowd to the sidewalk. As they waited for Sara to join them, Hank coughed up a wad of phlegm, lifted his mask, and spit it into the street. He kept the mask perched on the top of his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Peg’s eyes widened as Hank stood there and watched Sara descend the bus stairs. “Aren’t you going to put your mask back on?”

  “It’s not that bad toda
y,” he lied. The truth was, he didn’t feel like wearing it anymore. The acrid air was sour and burned his nose and eyes but he didn’t care. Hank was sick of filtering everything. Sick of filtering the air so it was easier to breathe and sick of filtering his piss just to get another glass of water to drink when rations ran low. He was done with filtering.

  The Department of Retirement resided in the federal building downtown. Hank, Peg, and Sara walked the three blocks from the bus stop, watching as the number of homeless increased the closer they got to their destination. Hank wondered if they thought being closer to a government facility would increase the likeliness of handouts. Looking into their dirty faces only made him more depressed. He squeezed Peg’s hand harder and picked up the pace.

  Hank pressed the button at the security gate and spoke his name. After a moment a buzzer sounded and he pushed open the metal door, stepping aside as his wife and daughter passed. They walked through a meticulously landscaped and clean courtyard before reaching the large double doors on the face of the massive building.

  He’d only been to the federal building once before, when it was his father’s time. His mother died young of ovarian cancer so she never got a chance to fulfill her duty to the State. The pristine courtyard was exactly how Hank remembered it from over twenty years ago. Unchanging and unsympathetic to the plight surrounding it on the other side of the walls.

  They were greeted by two armed guards once they stepped inside. One remained at the door while the other walked with them to the reception desk. Their footsteps echoed through the large hall as they passed dozens of empty chairs lining the walls on both sides. A young woman barely out of her teens sat behind the counter and stared at her computer monitor. She didn’t look up as they approached. “Name?”