Chapter 12.2

December 16, 1879

Second entry. The wind is blowing hard. I am hoping that it will help uncover the cabin or melt the snow. I am no longer worried about getting out of this place to get food. I need to do what is right by Jim and bury him as quickly as I can.

I am so tired. I need to sleep. I think that is what I will do. I will sleep for a while. I hope that if I sleep, I won’t think of Jim lying in his bed and the stillness that has enveloped this cabin.

December 16, 1879

Third entry. I slept long and hard. I think it is well after sunset. It is difficult to tell.

The fire was almost out, and the cabin had cooled enough that I could see my breath. I almost thought about letting the fire die and being taken by the cold. Then I thought about Jim, and I could not do that. I have to honor him and bury him the way I promised.

I have now built up the fire and put the last of the food in the pot to cook, with the exception of the meager amounts of flour and salt I have left. If that runs out before I can get out of this cabin, I am not sure I can do what Jim told me to do. The thought of consuming my brother makes me want to retch.

Sarah, this is the first time I can say I am truly frightened. I had always hoped we would be able to get out of this cabin and get food. Now that Jim is gone, that hope is waning to nothing. He was my hope of our salvation. That hope is gone, and I am utterly alone. 

My love, the thought of being forced to desecrate my brother’s body in order to survive, crushes my soul. I know what he said to me, but I also know it is a vile act, no matter the reason.

I am trying to reconcile my fate, but it is so difficult. I made the choice to come here after I lost you and Timothy. It was my choice to do this and to bring Jim on to help me. My choices are what have caused this, and I must make the right choices now and do my best to make amends. 

Soon I will try to break through the snow at the doorway. I want to at least be able to see the sky, so I know what the weather is doing. Now I have to guess by the sound of the wind, which is not very accurate. It is probably closer to right than trying to guess Missouri weather by the sound, but I still need better than a guess.

December 16, 1879

Fourth entry. I was just breaking through the snow with the stove poker and could see a little patch of stars when I heard that thing stomping toward the cabin. I wish that blasted thing would do whatever it is planning to do to us and get it over with. 

I can hear it walking on the roof now. Those slow, measured footsteps as it clods about. I stoked the fire nice and hot, so if it grabs a hold of the stovepipe, it will be in for a nasty surprise. 

I want to know what it is. Something inside me needs to know, yet I am afraid to find out. I think there are things in this world we are not ever intended to meet, and that thing is one of them. These woods belong to that abomination, and after this year, if I survive it, it can have this place. After some of the things Jim told me, I believe even more that there are things out there that we are not supposed to know about.

December16, 1879

Fifth entry. Scratching at the top of the door and roof woke me up. It sounded like something was trying to dig its way in to get at us. I don’t know what it was, but I do know it was big. The scratches were long and deep. It sounded like it could drag its claws halfway across the roof in one swipe.

My stomach is growling. I am so conflicted as to what to do. I need to eat as little as possible and conserve my food. At the same time, I must eat and keep up my strength so I can dig us out of here and keep my promise to Jim of burying him.

With my busted shoulder, getting out of here will take a lot out of me. The pain drains my energy fast, and I have to rest often. It will take me a long time to do all of the digging and packing to make the opening and steps to get us both out of here.

I am going to eat a bit of soup, then lay down and try to go back to sleep. I need to get to work as early as I can. Sarah. I hope that you are watching over me and helping me as I do this. I need your help to make it out of this alive.

December 17, 1879

I woke up early and ate breakfast. I did not want to eat, but I have to, so I have the strength to work at clearing the snow. There is so much snow. We need a warm rain to help get us out of this cabin before it becomes a tomb for both of us.

I did open the door and check the sky before I ate. That thing on the roof last night opened the space against the door and the small opening I had at the top of the snow by a good few feet. It also left scratch marks on the wooden door. I wonder if it is trying to help us or hurt us. Either way, as long as the door is secure, it can do what it wants to the snow outside our door. The more digging and packing it does, the less I have to do.

December 17, 1879

Second entry. I can only work for ten minutes at the most before I have to stop and rest. The willow bark tea is helping to take the edge off my pain, but it is still wearing on me. Only being able to use one arm is making it even harder to work.

I can hear Jim’s voice in my head scolding me for not taking it easy and for not eating more so I can keep up my strength. I know what my option is when I finish that pot of soup on the stove if I cannot get us out of this infernal cabin. The thought of that turns my stomach sour. 

I am going to get back to work on the snow. There is nothing else for me to do other than sit in the silence of this place.

December 17, 1879

Third entry. I stopped trying to clear the snow. It is nearly dark, and more is falling. We will never get out of here. If we do make it out of this cabin, it will be at the spring thaw, and that is months from now. 

I sit here looking at the dwindling pot of soup on the stove and what meager rations we still have. It is not going to last much longer, maybe a day or two at the most. After that, if I want to eat, I will have to do the unthinkable. I am doing my best to steel myself to do that if needed. I keep reminding myself of what Jim said to me. About how he said I should not fear the wendigo and to eat him if I must to survive. My reluctance is not out of fear but revulsion at the thought.

 It didn’t feel as cold today, so maybe we will get lucky, and it will bring rain, not snow. A warm rain is what we need. I think that will be what I pray for tonight when I go to bed, a warm rain. That would also soften the ground so I could bury Jim. I need to do that. I promised him. I have to keep that promise.

Sara marked her spot in the book and put it down. She began to rub her temples and forehead. Her head was starting to pound for some reason. She began to stretch her neck, turning it to the side. There was a deep pop within her spine, sending a wave of dizziness through her. Sara was so dizzy that she was glad to be sitting when it happened.

Sara sat nearly motionless until the dizziness passed. Her head was still hurt, so she took two acetaminophen tablets, washing them down with what was left of her coffee. She nibbled at her trail mix, sipped her water, and waited for the pain to subside before she continued reading the journal.  After a few minutes, Sara decided to lie down, hoping that sleep would help with the pain.