WENDIGO, GOING, GONE

WENDIGO, GOING, GONE
by Adrian Ludens

“Mr. Ziebart? I’m Jacqueline Swift. Feel free to call me Lin. I’m one of the resident directors here at Great Lakes Funeral and Cremation Services.”

She shook hands with her final client of the afternoon.

“One of my assistants, Josephine Fiddler, is attending to other business. Other than Josie, we have the place to ourselves. You are my last appointment of the day, but don’t feel like we are in a hurry. I am happy to provide as much information as possible regarding our services and can answer any questions you might have. Please have a seat.”

She indicated the chair opposite her. The man, Bob Ziebart, seated himself. He had purple crescents under his eyes and a disheveled head of brown hair. His off-the-rack suit was rumpled. Ziebart glanced at the arrangement room’s ceiling, the understated artwork that hung on the walls, the vases of fragrant flowers, and finally, the floor. He looked everywhere except at the woman who would help prepare his deceased wife’s funereal arrangements. Lin had grown used to it. Many clients, men especially, expected to meet with a man. One dressed in a tasteful dark suit, hair silvering at the temples, perhaps the third generation of a family-run business. Lin knew about family traditions; hers went back more generations than she could count.

“Just to share a little about my background,” Lin said. “I’ve been in the business since I turned twenty-two. I started at a crematory. Before long, I realized I wanted to do more to help the families and to help the decedents.” She paused, gauging the man’s reaction. His eyes darted, caught hers for an instant, and then he returned his gaze to the floor. She continued. “We strive to give the person what they wanted in death, even if it was never possible for them to get everything they wanted in life.”

“That’s a beautiful sentiment,” Ziebart murmured. “But she hated the idea of being buried in a casket, lavish or otherwise.”

“We pride ourselves in offering more contemporary options, and a healthier grieving experience. Death is natural and shouldn’t have such a stigma—”

A muffled crash—the sound of a cadaver gurney tipping over—came from the next room and Lin paused. For the first time, her client was looking at her and holding her gaze. “What was that?” he asked.

That, Lin thought, sounds like my reckless assistant letting her hunger get the best of her. Aloud, she said, “It was probably a gurney bumping against the wall. Nothing to worry about.”

Lin gave the man her most reassuring smile and continued with the topic at hand. “While we do offer traditional embalming and funerals, green funerals are rapidly gaining in popularity. They’re aimed at making burials low-impact on the environment, and you can be assured your loved one will return to the earth naturally without any embalming chemicals or invasive procedures.”

The man began to turn his head but caught himself and looked down into his lap. Lin understood; he was about to defer to his wife, ask her what she preferred—and then he’d remembered.

“If your wife enjoyed the outdoors and loved nature, she might appreciate that option. We offer decomposable wicker caskets and biodegradable shrouds.”

Ziebart seemed distracted. He hunched his shoulders and crossed his arms. “Is it cold in here? I feel a sudden chill.”

Lin allowed herself an inward sigh. Unlike the antlers or hairy bodies, this was an aspect of the folklore that held a basis of fact. A sudden, unseasonable chill signaled the presence those like her, especially when feeding. To say nothing of the foul stench, Lin mentally added. It was why her kind had begun infiltrating the business of death; it was the perfect place to hide in plain sight. She had clouded her client’s mind, but her assistant wasn’t shielding herself at all. Reckless.

“We’re adjacent to a refrigerated area. If Josie is working in there and inadvertently left the door open, it can create quite a draft.” Lin forced a smile. “We can relocate if you like?” She lifted the final word to reframe her offer as a question, but the man shook his head.

“No, no. I’m fine.” He took a deep breath. “I think I’m just beating around the bush. This isn’t the type of conversation one enjoys having.”

“I understand completely,” Lin said. “Are you leaning more toward a green burial, then?”

“My wife didn’t know that was an option.” Ziebart paused, seeming to contemplate. “She always like the quote about ‘ashes to ashes, dust to dust.’”

“Cremation,” Lin said. “Certainly. We offer those services as well. We have a cremulator on the premises. Another opportunity for the families to be more involved—if they want to be involved, of course. Everyone’s comfort level is different, but I believe it helps the grieving process. You, and your wife’s friends and relatives, may choose to decorate her cremation container. If you have children or grandchildren, they can draw pictures, for instance. You can put flowers on top or tape notes to the side. Loved ones can write farewell messages on it… you get the idea.”

The man nodded. Another blow against the other side of the wall caused Lin to make a quick decision.

“I’ve given you a lot to think about,” she said, rising from her chair. “Here are brochures explaining each of the options we offer. I’ll give you a few minutes to think it over, and then I’ll be back to answer any questions you might have. Please excuse me for one moment.”

Lin exited the room and pulled the door closed behind her. She hurried a few paces down the hall and pushed open the door to the preparation room. What she saw appalled but did not surprise her.

Her assistant knelt on the floor, crouching over a cadaver. Josie felt her presence and looked up, her face and hair clotted with gore. She tried to appear apologetic, but Lin wasn’t buying it.

“Have you lost your mind?” Lin hissed. She clenched her hands into fists. “I have a client in the next room! We wait until nightfall to feast. This has always been the rule!”

“I’m sorry! I had a lapse in judgement,” Josie’s shoulders sagged. “I got back from a pickup at Regional Hospital, and they had seven new cadavers for us to take. I lost control. I’ll stop.”

“Damn right you will. Get that one on a drawer in the cold chamber,” she nodded in the direction of one of the large morgue refrigerators. “And wash your face; you look like beastly.”

She left the room and hurried back to her waiting client. Seven decedents in one trip? That’s got to be a record. She only had a moment to puzzle over this before turning the knob and reentering the arrangement room.

“I’m so sorry for the delay,” Lin gave the man a comforting pat on his shoulder and resumed her seat beside him. “Do you have any questions I can answer for you?”

“Well…” Tinges of pink brightened the man’s pale cheeks. “I’m thinking she’d like a green funeral, with a wicker casket, maybe. But how much is that going to cost?”

“In general, a traditional embalming and casket funeral will be the most expensive. Cremation will be the least expensive, with a cost differential of about a thousand dollars. Green burials end up somewhere in between. I’m happy to get you a specific cost breakdown which you can take home and examine. Then, when you’ve decided, we can meet again to discuss—”

A moan of anguish so loud it sounded like the roar of a wild animal drowned out her words. All color drained from Ziebart’s face. “I… I’d better go, uh, p-perhaps I’ve come at a b-bad time.” he finally managed.

Lin couldn’t blame him. An unpleasant chill emanated from the shared wall. The room reeked. Josie had obviously failed to keep her promise.

Lin set her jaw and rushed to the preparation room. If the man left while she was gone, so much the better. She threw open the door. “Josephine! I warned you—” The words died on her lips.

Bitter cold filled the room. Their exhalations crystallized in the air. Blood, scattered bones, and ragged lengths of hair covered the floor. Two gurneys had tipped on their sides. Even the walls were spattered with gore. Doors to multiple cold chamber slabs hung open like the mouths of shocked passersby. At the center of it all, gnawing on stringy remnants of meat from someone’s hipbone, sat Josie. Her assistant had completely given in to the Change.

Josie’s altered frame was gaunt to the point of emaciation. Ash gray skin pulled itself tightly over her bones. Josie’s eyes had receded deep in their sockets, where they glittered from within the shadowy darkness. Her sore-covered flesh gave off an odor of decay. Her bloody lips pulled back from her gore-clotted teeth in a threatening, possessive snarl.

Lin fought to maintain her composure, but her entire body trembled. With each cadaver Josie had devoured, her hunger had grown. That was their curse; to grow in proportion to their last meal so that one could never be full, never be satisfied. Gluttony was punished with starvation.

“Damn your greed, damn your lack of self-control,” Lin shouted. “And damn you!”

Josie responded by lifting the bone to her bloody maw and scraping off another bit of meat with her teeth.

“Wendigo psychosis! My god! I always thought it was either just a metaphor or a convenient excuse for someone who’d gone mad with starvation.”

Appalled, Lin turned to look at the speaker. She hadn’t heard the grieving man’s approach. He looked past her, and surveyed the room, wide-eyed.

“Native American folklore has always fascinated me,” Ziebart said. Despite the carnage, his voice was calm. “I’ve studied it extensively, in fact. The police won’t understand. I should stay until they arrive. I can help explain. She shouldn’t have to face the death penalty if she genuinely believes she’s a Wendigo.”

“Windigoag.” Lin said. “Plural.”

Ziebart looked stricken. He took a fearful step backward.

“I’m sorry,” Lin said. She lunged.

+++

Lin sat alone in the office where the only illumination came from the city lights shining in through the window. She pondered the events that had transpired.

Seven new bodies. At once. Josie had looked at the sudden influx and seen a feast. She hadn’t been able to resist. Lin, who had learned how better to control her appetite, had brought down her lone victim with more regret than hunger.

The telephone on the desk rang, startling her from her reverie. She let the machine take the call. “This is Summerside Retirement Facility calling. We need to schedule a pickup at your earliest possible convenience…”

Lin rested her forehead on her fingertips and massaged her temples with her thumbs as the voice provided the particulars. Lin realized she’d have to call someone in; she didn’t trust Josie to make another run. The caller hung up. The phone immediately rang again.

“This is Regional Hospital. We have nine more deceased needing immediate retrieval…”

What the hell is going on out there? Lin frowned and gazed out the window, as if the night skyline would somehow provide the answers she sought.

Lin heard Josie moaning from down the hall. Her victims numbered seven; thus, her suffering was sevenfold. Josie deserved it for showing such a horrendous lack of restraint. She’d made a series of poor decisions today. Let her think on her misdeeds.

The telephone rang again. “Uh, hi, this is Good Shepherd Nursing Home. We have half a dozen deceased that we’d like you to pick up. Tonight, if possible. If you wait until morning, there will likely be several more. You have our address on file.”

Lin lurched from her seat. She left the office, sped past the arrangement room, and reached the preparation room, where she’d left Josie with strict instructions to clean every inch of the floor and walls. “This room better be spotless, because every drop of blood is evidence,” she had said. Lin had then taken several boxes filled with remains to the cremulator. The machine had been working on reducing bone, hair, and tissue to ashes ever since.

Now, in the doorway, Lin stopped short. Josie had done next to nothing. Instead, she sat on the floor, slumped against a wall. She turned her ghastly, emaciated face toward Lin and coughed. “I’m sick,” she said, in a timid, helpless voice.

“You ate too much,” Lin replied. “You know how the hunger grows.”

Josie shook her head and then coughed again. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “This is different. I’m sick.”

Lin felt her blood run cold—or colder than normal. “Josie, what did the paperwork say?”

Josie gave her a blank look. “I didn’t check.”

“You didn’t—” Lin’s rage boiled. “Seven new cadavers in one trip, and it didn’t occur to you to look to find out what had killed them?”

Her assistant made no reply, only stared down at her blood-sticky hands. She coughed again.

From the office came the shrill ringing of the telephone.

Lin considered. Something truly terrible was happening across the city. People were dying in alarming numbers. And instead of benefitting from this catastrophe, Lin and Josie were only going to suffer. They were responsible for eight missing persons. Tomorrow, the building would likely be teeming with law enforcement. We’ve finally found a way to survive, maybe even thrive, and now it’s all going to hell.

Lin’s frustration gave way to horror as the death rattle of Josie’s final breath broke the silence. Lin touched the door jamb, irresolute.

Wide-ranging emotions quarreled for supremacy within her. Lin mourned her Wendigo sister, but for a moment, she hated her too. That hatred quickly found a new focus. Humans, Lin seethed. Humans are the real problem, the real threat. They’ve unleased some new plague. Had she already contracted it? She shivered.

Lin felt weak. Her breaths came in gasps. She sank to the floor, put her face in her hands, and wept.

Down the hall, the phone began to ring.