Chapter 13.1

Sara woke up from her nap and stretched, breathing a sigh of relief that her headache was gone. She could hear the buck she called Ted snorting and banging at the door. She had closed the door and tied it shut while she slept. 

“I hear you! I hear you!” Sara yelled to the buck.

She got out of her sleeping bag and stumbled her way to the door, still groggy. She loosened the paracord and retied it before allowing the door to open. She did that as an added precaution in case it was not Ted outside.

Sara peeked through the crack in the door to see the deer standing at the doorway with rain dripping off his antlers. She shook her head at him.

Sara laughed, “You silly deer. Why don’t you go find a place that’s dry to hang out?”

Sara opened her mouth to say something else but was interrupted by her phone ringing. When she picked it up off the table, she saw it was her husband, Kevin, making her smile.

“Hello,” she chirped when she answered the phone.

“Hello, Babe. How are you doing? Sorry, I had to go earlier,” Kevin said.

“That’s okay. I know how things go. Everything will be calm, and then things hit the fan. It happens all the time at work for me.”

“I thought you would understand. Now, about my question. How are you doing?”

“I’m good now. Earlier I had a headache. I took something for it and took a nap. That seemed to be all I needed,” Sara told him.

“That’s a relief to hear,” Kevin said. “You know I’m worried about you, right? Especially with that crazed deer hanging around. Is he there now?”

Sara laughed and replied, “I know you are worried, and yes, the deer is here. You don’t need to worry about him. This morning I was petting him and fed him a granola bar.”

“Petting him?” Kevin asked incredulously.

“Yes. Relax; I have the door tied, so it is open a few inches to let fresh air in. The deer comes to the door and sticks his nose inside. It’s like he’s checking on me. Anyway, one of the times he stuck his nose in, I let him sniff me, and he started nuzzling my hand. That led to the petting and him getting a granola bar.”

“I feel like you are going to need an intervention to separate you from that deer when you get home,” Kevin laughed.

“Very funny. There is a better chance I will need therapy from reading the journal.”

“That one, I actually believe. Are you alright?” Kevin asked, softening his tone. “With the journal and everything?”

“Yeah, I think so. There isn’t much I can do about it now. It happened nearly a hundred and fifty years ago,” Sara sadly answered.

“I have an idea,” Kevin told her. “When you leave the cabin, pack up anything that might help us track down their families. We might not be able to help them, but we can at least help their families have some closure about what happened to them.”

“Really? You want to help me with this?”

“Of course. I would be inconsolable if you went missing, and I did not know what happened to you. I know it has been several generations since that journal was written, but I’m sure their families want answers if they can get them.”

Sara fought tears and said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, and so you know, I’m still worried about you.”

“I know you are,” Sara answered, turning to look at the door where Ted was making noise. “I am going to send you a picture of my door guard. Maybe that will make you feel better.”

Kevin laughed, “I doubt it.”

Sara quickly went to the door and peered out. The buck was lying against the door, looking at the opening as if waiting for her to return. Sara took a picture and sent it to her husband.

“It is on its way to you now,” she told Kevin.

“Just got it,” Kevin replied. “Wow, he is big, and he’s gorgeous. I think you’re right about him having been hand-raised. He looks healthy and well-fed, so I doubt there is anything wrong with him.”

“There is nothing wrong with him. His behavior and affinity for people is a little odd, that’s all.”

“Odd? That is one way of putting it.”

“What can I say?” Sara laughed. “I am a master at understating the obvious.”

“Babe, I have to go. Someone is standing at my door holding a stack of files, and they do not look happy. I’ll tell you bye, and I will talk to you later.”

“Bye, sweetheart,” Sara answered.

She hung up her phone and placed it back on the table. Sara sighed as she sat down.  There was again thunder in the distance, the low rumble vibrating through the cabin and her body. The thunder was aggravating Sara, leading her to pick up the old journal once again.

December 18, 1879

That abomination was here again last night. It was stomping around on the roof of the cabin and scratching anywhere it could find wood. The strange thing is, when I looked for marks on the door this morning, it had left none, even though I clearly heard it clawing at the door. It is becoming quite the enigma the way it acts. Sometimes it leaves gouges on the door, and other times it leaves no signs that it was here.

This morning I could have sworn I heard Jim say my name several times. I am beginning to think I am losing my mind a bit because of everything that has happened. Then again, it might be Jim trying to get my attention. He told me that his spirit could not rest unless he was buried immediately following his death, and I have not been able to do that. I hope he can forgive me if he is angry with me. I keep telling him that I will bury him as soon as it is humanly possible for me to do it.

After I have a little breakfast, I will go back to work on the snow. The one bright spot this morning is that it did not snow last night and cover everything I had done yesterday. If the wind stays calm and the snow does not return, I might make some good progress today. 

December 18, 1879

Second entry. The snow and wind moved back in. I can no longer see the sky. The wind is swirling the snow, both what is falling and what is on the ground, too much to see anything but white. I hate this. I take one step forward in progress, and the weather pushes me back two steps. It has filled everything I had dug out this morning and yesterday.  I am so frustrated by it that I do not know if I want to scream or cry. I am sure I will do a bit of both before this is over. I know I have already done a lot of crying.

I keep thinking about what food I have left. Even trying to conserve it, I only have enough in the pot to last until tomorrow. I have enough flour to make a little fry bread, but that is all. If I want to be able to carry out Jim’s final wishes, I will have to do what he instructed me to do. The thought is so repulsive, yet I feel there is no choice. 

December 18, 1879

Third entry. I have given up on trying to clear snow for the rest of the day. There is no point in it. Between the snow and wind, it is covering things up so fast that I can’t keep up with it. It is moments like this that I want to give up. If it weren’t for Jim, I would have. I have to keep that promise and bury him.

I made a little bit of fry bread to go with the soup. I am trying to make it last as long as I can. I keep thinking that maybe, with some luck, I will be able to get out of this cabin and not be forced to resort to the unthinkable. 

The silence in this cabin is maddening. At one point, I would have thought it was peaceful and relaxing. Now, all I can think about is how quiet it is without Jim here to tell me stories. I miss that, and I miss him. There are times when I think I hear his voice. He is saying a word or my name. I always look to see what he wants without thinking. After I have, I feel a pang of grief and loss that I have not felt since losing Sarah and Timothy. 

My Sarah, I came here so that I would never have to feel this way again. So that I could avoid the loss of others I love. I had no idea I would feel like this when I lost Jim. He was my brother. I feel that in my heart. It does not matter that we were not blood. We were brothers.

December 18, 1879

Fourth entry. I can hear the wind howling outside. There is something in it. It is carrying a low, deep moan. I don’t know if it is that thing that keeps stomping on the roof, but if the sound can be any judge of the size, it is massive. 

My thoughts keep going back to what Jim and I saw in the forest while we were trapping. That beast was not a wolf or bear but some amalgamation of both. Perhaps that is what the sound is I hear in the wind. 

I can tell that sleep will be sparse tonight. I can picture that monster along with the thing that stomps around the cabin, working together, tearing in to get to us.

December 18, 1879

Fifth entry. Dear God, what evil abominations have you sent to descend on this place? I can hear them screaming. The sounds are so unearthly that I would never believe they could exist if I were not experiencing them myself. 

It sounds as if the two monsters are battling one another. Howls and shrieks echo in the night and are carried on the wind. Only Satan himself could have created something that would make those sounds. I have heard every animal that should live in this forest and have listened to them for years. What I am hearing does not belong here. 

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