Windigo Soul Read online

  Hank struggled to capture a solid memory of what happened before he woke up. He had no idea where he was, and for some reason couldn’t remember how he’d been injured. Fuzzy memories intertwined with each other, becoming clear for a second before fading away.

  The door opened and a man walked in wearing a huge smile. “Morning sunshine! Finally awake, huh? Sounds like things were a little iffy for a while, but once you got some blood in you, the doc said you’d pull through just fine.” He rubbed the inside of arm. “I even gave a pint or two myself. Least I could do.”

  “Maz?”

  “In the flesh. How are you feeling, Hank? I heard you shout out from the next room. Leg hurting?”

  Hank’s heart sank as memories suddenly flooded in. Mike. Peg. Hendricks. And here he was again, waking up in an empty room being greeted by Sam Mazanghetti. Khaki uniform and all. “Oh, God,” he whispered.

  Maz leaned forward. “What’s wrong? I called for Doc Jasper. He should be here any minute.”

  “Where are we?”

  Maz looked around the bedroom. “The tattered old sign out front says it used to be The Clear Lake Lodge. Clear Lake isn’t much more than a festering mud puddle, and the lodge looks like a healthy breeze might knock it over any second. But the folks running the show think it’s a safe enough place to hide out for now.”

  James Grayson entered the room after a quick knock on the door frame. “There he is! How are you feeling, Old-timer? Glad to see you awake.”

  “What happened?” Hank asked.

  “Thanks to you folks, I’m outside for the first time in twenty-three years,” Maz said. “I have to admit I’m so scared I almost soil myself every day, but it feels good to be alive. I’m going to enjoy it while I still can.”

  “We did it, Hank,” Grayson said. “No retiree will ever step foot in that damn place ever again. As a worker or a resource. They might try to rebuild, but it’ll be glowing with radiation for years, so I doubt it.”

  “Oh!” Maz snapped his fingers. “Almost forgot, there’s somebody else who’s just dying to talk to you. Be right back.” Maz zipped out of the room. Hank turned to Grayson for an explanation but he only smiled at Hank and said nothing. A moment later, Maz opened the door again and entered with another visitor.

  “Hello, Hank.” His wife approached the bed and gently kissed him on the forehead. It took a moment before Hank could finally form the words to greet Peg back.

  Chapter 39

  The Eastern sky started to lighten as dawn approached and he wasn’t exactly sure how much farther he needed to walk. It still wasn’t light enough to read the tattered old map stuffed in his pocket so he just put his head down and kept pushing. He noticed the outline of a road sign ahead but it was still too dark to read that either.

  Sanderson reached behind him with his good arm and blindly fished around in his backpack for the bottle of ibuprofen. He found it and shook out four into his hand. He popped them in his mouth and washed them down with a sip of water from his last bottle. Just half-full. Or half-empty, depending on how you looked at it. Sanderson didn’t have a preference either way, but he did know he’d be in trouble if he arrived at the rendezvous and nobody was there to greet him. He didn’t feel particularly optimistic about finding more fresh water around these parts so perhaps the bottle was half-empty.

  As he got closer to the road sign, the faded and blistered white letters started to come into view. WILSON 2. STRATFORD 10. Finally some good news. After walking this far, two miles was nothing. He was almost there. Wilson, with its iconic forty-foot tall fiberglass cow statue. The perfect landmark to meet another party by.

  Getting out of the city was challenging, but not impossible. He’d ridden bus and rail, changing routes and transferring as much as was practical to the outer suburbs. From there, he’d offered his last twenty to a truck driver heading north in exchange for smuggling him through the security checkpoint in the back of the truck. Sanderson hadn’t exactly trusted the driver but he didn’t have much choice. Going through the checkpoint on foot was out of the question and trying to slip through the wire was too dangerous, even at night.

  As the truck crept farther up the queue, Sanderson crawled forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder with the muzzle of his Glock. He’d made it clear that just in case the twenty bucks wasn’t enough incentive to keep his mouth shut, Sanderson would have the gun pointed at him the whole time. Even the slightest sign of him ratting Sanderson out would result in a bullet to the back.

  They made it through the checkpoint just fine, but John realized the threat was a bad move when the driver pulled over just a mile down the road. He insisted that unless Sanderson had more money to spend, that was as far as he was taking him. Sanderson considered shooting the driver anyway and just taking the truck, but only for a second. His days of murdering innocent civilians were over.

  From that point it was on foot for almost sixty miles. He rested in an abandoned gas station off the exit ramp and moved out after dark. Ten hours of walking the first night and now pushing twelve the next. Although he was in good shape, he’d had little to eat and his energy was low. His feet hurt, his arm hurt, and a headache was settling in. Probably the early signs of dehydration. He could hear the bottle of water sloshing in his bag, tempting him. It reminded him of his short time on the run with Hank. It wasn’t that long ago, but already seemed like years. He felt like he’d lived a whole lifetime in just the last couple of weeks.

  Something rustled in the brush by the side of the road, snapping Sanderson out of his day dreaming and sending his hand for the Glock. He relaxed a bit. Just something small and furry, searching for something to eat before dawn. The wildlife in the area was practically non-existent but that shouldn’t have been surprising. It was a virtual desert these days and even if water wasn’t a problem, most of the vegetation had dried up and died years ago anyway. Kill off the plant eaters and the meat eaters would follow.

  Sanderson picked up his pace as the town of Wilson grew closer. He was curious to see the abandoned town. Not because of the giant cow, but because it would be the first standing village he would see since the last one, almost forty miles ago. Long before he’d been born, the State bombed and razed entire cities and towns in the north after herding the citizens to the cities in the south. The justification for such acts was concentrating resources and services in one area to be more efficient. A way to spread the wealth over a smaller and more manageable area. Sort of like having the whole family hole up in one room to keep warm when the power goes out in a blizzard. It was just another means of control, of course. With their old town burned to the ground there was nothing for the citizens to go back to once life in the big city didn’t pan out. Sanderson shook his head at the billions they must’ve wasted on such madness.

  Little burgs like Wilson, Stratford, and beyond, were spared since they’d been abandoned and left to ruin years earlier. Besides, the average citizen had no knowledge of the small towns and woods to the north so there was little threat of them getting repopulated anyway.

  He looked up after side-stepping a particularly large crevice in the old highway and finally saw it. Although much of the paint was faded or peeled off, the giant white cow stood out next to the gray horizon beyond. It was standing guard out front of the Wilson Cafe as it had been for the last seventy years, long after the last customer had left. John pulled the gun from his pocket and held it loosely at his side as he crossed the crumbling parking lot. The morning was eerily quiet and his footsteps seemed to echo for miles.

  Sanderson peered through the grimy window next to a sign proclaiming Best Fried Chicken East of the Mississip! and saw nothing but a dark and dusty dining room.

  Other than meeting up near the restaurant after the assault on Windigo and “kidnapping” Sara, he held no other information to go on. He had no idea where everyone would go next. This was intentional, just in case one of them ended up in the interrogation room, but that didn’t make him feel any better no
w.

  He walked to the front of the restaurant and got a clear view of the main road leading into Wilson and the buildings beyond.

  He called out and heard nothing in return. “Dammit,” he muttered to himself. He looked around for any sort of sign or signal. Even something as simple as a small arrow formed out of pebbles or something, but he didn’t have his hopes up. Any message to him could also be found by the State and he knew Grayson wasn’t that stupid.

  “Looking for somebody, Brother?” a voice boomed from above.

  Sanderson spun around and pointed the Glock skyward. Holden Grayson stood on the edge of the roof of the Wilson Cafe, an assault rifle resting in his hands and a smile on his face. John lowered the gun. “I could’ve shot you, ya know.”

  “Shoot your only ride out of here? Now that wouldn’t be very smart. You look like shit, John.”

  “Morning to you too, asshole.”

  Holden grinned and jabbed his thumb behind him. “Meet me around back so we can get the hell out of here.”

  Chapter 40

  Sanderson drained the entire bottle of water Holden gave him and sat back in the seat with a groan.

  “You had me worried for a while there,” Holden said. He slammed the car door shut and fished the keys out of his pocket. “The old man was considering giving up on you but I volunteered to stay behind for another few days just in case you made it.”

  “Sara okay?”

  “She’s fine.” Holden’s smile faded. “She was overjoyed to see her parents again, but…man, it’s none of my business, but you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do.”

  Sanderson sighed. “Don’t I know it. I’m just glad she’s safe.”

  Holden started up the car and the radio came to life, weak and static-filled, but audible.

  “…for about four hours while local authorities investigated the crash. No survivors have been found yet. Fire fighters are still struggling to contain wild fires to the North today even after emergency crews from other sectors arrived to help earlier this week. In a statement released late last night, Department of Defense spokesperson Madeline James confirmed the blaze started after an F-34 bomber from Fort Klamath Air Force base accidentally released nuclear ordinance during a training exercise. Fortunately, the explosion and spreading fire that followed, occurred in a remote and uninhabitable area. James assured all citizens that they are perfectly safe and there is no cause for concern at this time.

  “In a related story, State officials have confirmed the video recently released by the terrorist organization known as the People’s Libertarian Militia, is indeed one hundred percent fake after careful analysis of the footage. The PLM took credit for the explosion in the North by claiming they destroyed a secret power plant run by retirees over the age of sixty.

  “Vice Chancellor Albinger dismissed the PLM as quote, ‘dangerous right-wing radicals,’ and added the recent blackouts have nothing to do with the destruction of a fictional power plant. ‘Several power lines were destroyed due to the training accident,’ Albinger said. ‘Crews are working around the clock to restore service as soon as possible. As far as those videos are concerned, the good citizens of the State are too smart to be fooled by a few gray wigs and special effects. The only thing these clips show is how desperate the PLM has gotten. I can assure you, they know their time is short and they’ll soon face justice for the crimes they’ve committed against the good people of the State.’”

  Holden switched off the radio as he pulled out into the road. “They know how to spin it, that’s for sure.”

  Sanderson cracked the seal on another bottle of water and took a sip. “Think it did any good?”

  “That’s up to my dad, not me,” Holden shrugged. “But I saw the video before we sent it out. It’s good. Real good. You can be sure some people will take it at face value even if most of the lemmings will believe it’s a fake just because big brother said so.”

  “So where we headed?” Sanderson looked out the window at what was left of downtown Wilson. It looked like half the town burned to the ground years ago. Not by the State’s bombs, but probably by something as simple as a bolt of lightning.

  “Couple hours’ north. We’re hunkered down at an old lodge for now.”

  “Great.” Sanderson crossed his arms and tried to get comfortable. “Wake me up when we get there.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Hey, Holden? Thanks. For everything.”

  Holden looked at him and opened his mouth to say something but shut it when he saw Sanderson was serious. He nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  Chapter 41

  Two Months Later

  Hank rubbed up against the rough bark of the tree he’d been leaning against, scratching an itch in the middle of his back. He swung the rifle he’d been holding over his shoulder and rubbed his hands together. The days were getting shorter and cooler and he regretted not grabbing a pair of gloves before leaving camp earlier that afternoon.

  Movement in the trees ahead. His pulse quickened as he grabbed the rifle by the strap and held it up against his shoulder. He glassed the area through the scope where he thought he saw something just seconds earlier. Hank glanced to the man on his right flank, one hundred yards away further up the ridge. He looked bored, sitting on a fallen tree and staring off into the woods. The guy on Hank’s left flank was standing, but looked just as relaxed. It was a safe bet neither of them saw anything. There was no way for Hank to communicate with them besides shouting. That was out of the question since it would give away their position.

  Hank exhaled and lowered the rifle. Probably nothing. He checked his watch as his stomach growled and he bent over in an attempt to stretch his sore hamstring. The bullet, courtesy of Lieutenant Hendricks, was removed and the wound healed just fine. But a low ache accompanied him most days and the colder weather wasn’t helping. At least the ringing in his right ear had finally faded and his hearing had returned to normal. Doctor Jasper said the ruptured ear drum would heal on its own after a few months and it turned out he was right. Hank wasn’t all that confident of the veterinarian’s diagnosis at the time, but the animal doc turned people doc had proved himself worthy many times since then. Still, he’d feel better if Jasper had an MD after his name as Sara’s due date grew closer.

  A sapling directly fifty yards in front of him moved, too sudden and violent to be caused by the wind. Hank raised his rifle again as a surge of adrenaline blocked out the ache in his leg and the cold in his bones. This was it. A second later, a man came into view behind the shaking reticle of his rifle scope. It was his son-in-law, John.

  “Crap,” Hank muttered to himself as he lowered the rifle. Men on either side of John, spaced twenty-five yard apart, came into view as they headed toward Hank and the other shooters holding the line. Another failed drive.

  Hank met John half-way, shaking his head in disappointment. “Nothing, huh?” John asked.

  “Nope. At this point, if a deer ran through I don’t even know if I’d want to shoot it. They could be at the point of extinction.”

  “Yeah, well so are we if we don’t get some fresh meat in camp,” John muttered. The hunters gathered in a loose formation and started the hike back to the camp. It would be dark soon and they were all tired, cold, and hungry.

  Camp was an old state park not too far from the lodge Hank woke up in. It was heavily wooded, remote, and primarily chosen by the group thanks to its old quarry lake that provided a source of water. The lake was a shadow of its former self, only about fifteen feet deep, but the cold fresh water it provided made the difficult chore of pumping it up the steep cliffs worth it. A couple of picnic shelters and an old museum used for shelter made it as good a place as any for the group to stay. Unfortunately, the hunting prospects weren’t panning out.

  The hunting party passed the sentry on the edge of camp and attracted the attention of Holden Grayson as he pulled a wagon full of firewood across the old picnic field. He dropped it and wiped his hands on the b
ack of his legs. “No luck?” he asked Hank and John as they approached.

  “Not a damn thing,” John said. “Not even a squirrel.” He nodded at the groups of people walking towards the old museum. “What’s going on?”

  “My dad wants everybody together for a meeting. You guys are just in time.”

  “What about?” Hank asked.

  “You got me,” Holden said. “But the old man loves a good speech. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” He picked up the wagon handle and pulled it in the direction of the museum.

  Hank spotted Peg and Sara walking together and he waved. Peg waved back before Sara said something to her and the pair split up. Peg headed their way as Sara walked to the museum alone. “So how’s it going with you two?” Hank asked his son-in-law.

  “She actually spoke to me the other day. I think I might be wearing her down.”

  “She’ll come around,” Hank said. “A baby needs both parents and I have a feeling it’ll bring the two of you back together.”

  John stopped and cleared the action on his rifle before pulling the magazine out. He didn’t like to have it loaded in camp. “I dunno. What if you found out your entire marriage to Peg was all one big lie? She was out assassinating innocent people instead of pulling network cables?” He watched as Sara slipped through the door of the museum and shook his head. “If my situation was reversed? I don’t know if I’d be able to forgive her.”

  “She’ll come around,” Hank said again. “It’ll take some time, but that’s what it takes to heal old wounds. It’s a cliche’ because it’s true. And don’t forget, without you she wouldn’t have gotten her family back. She hasn’t forgotten that.” Hank slapped John on the back. “And neither have I.”

  “Hey, guys!” Peg approached with a big smile on her face. Her cheeks were red from the cold and her silver hair peeked out from underneath her blue wool hat. She’d never been more beautiful. Hank hugged her and felt the stirrings of desire as he kissed her warm lips. He didn’t know if it was the near-death experience for the both of them or the excitement of being on the run together, but their libidos had been on overdrive ever since their reunion. Hank hadn’t seen so much action since his twenties. “No venison for dinner I suppose,” Peg said.