Waiting for Harvey (The Spirits of Maine) (11 page)

*

Christmas had definitely passed, I knew it with certainty.  I didn’t know the day of the month or the day of the week, but I knew that December was gone.  I noticed that the hours of daylight had increased by minutes each day.  I guessed that the shortest day of the year had been almost a month earlier.  It was likely the middle of January. 

The weather improved somewhat and I ventured out for another wild turkey.  I needed to bring back the largest game I could get with the birdshot.  I would convince him that I meant to stay.  Early in the morning, I would take only what could be carried without raising suspicions.  I would take out the ATV and carry the shotgun.  I planned to go to the Lamoureaux Brothers work site first, to search for more fuel.  Then I would find my way to the main road.

Feeling more hopeful, I ate gluttonously that evening.  I was content, but there was no excitement over the escape I had planned.  I could not allow the emotion to ruin it.  With my belly full, I stretched out on the couch and read my book until I fell asleep.  I slept better than I had since I first arrived at the cabin.  

In the morning, I woke feeling rested.  Whistling cheerfully, I enjoyed a breakfast of turkey, canned corn, and kidney beans.  I didn’t dare pack food to take with me so I would need to eat well before I left.  Inside my head, I laughed at how I was outsmarting him at last.  He would never suspect what my plan was until I was too far away for him to reach me.  I would be beyond his influence and too far for the coyotes to stalk me.

With the woodstove banked well, I grabbed the shotgun and made a big production of preparing to go out hunting for a tasty pheasant or quail.  I complained that I didn’t want to go out in the cold.  I grumbled about being worried that the weather would turn again and I might run short on food.  Talking louder than I needed to, I proposed a plan to make my own jerky from the pheasant and some of the remaining turkey.  I was secretly thrilled by my superior intellect and cunning.

Bundled against the cold morning, I marched out to the shed.  I rolled the ATV out and I was eventually able to start it.  It sputtered and threatened to stall, but the low rumble didn’t fail.  Excitedly, I jumped onto the seat gunned the engine.  Wearing a Cheshire cat smile, I released the brake and rolled along the animal trail.

Just a few feet along the path the tires spun.  I looked back, realizing for the first time that the tread on the tires was not designed for driving on snow and ice, it was meant for dirt roads.  They weren’t intended to turn on the smooth surface.  My smile vanished as I rocked the machine and eased it forward. 

Frustrated by the repeated delays, I reached the fallen tree at last.  The snow that had drifted against it looked like a ramp.  I debated trying to use the makeshift ramp to launch the ATV over it, but I reconsidered and eased around the far end of it. 

On the other side of the massive dead tree, the left rear tire dipped low.  Stuck again, I jumped up and down, trying to free it.  The back tires continued to spin with no forward movement.  For several minutes, I worked to free it with no luck.  At last, I climbed down and moved to the front of the machine.  My efforts seemed only to make the situation worse.

My slow trip along the trail had wasted valuable fuel.  The time spent trying to maneuver around the end of the tree and up onto the road again, had squandered more of the gas.  I began to worry that I wouldn’t be able to make it all the way to the Lamoureaux Brothers job site again.  I would never find the main road without the ATV.

Anxiously, I shut off the motor and moved down behind it.  An hour passed as I worked to free it only to have it slip off the edge again.  My coat snagged on a branch of the dead tree, tearing a jagged hole where the insulated lining poked through.  At last the ATV was on level ground again.  I turned the key and the engine protested.  With curses flowing, it sputtered and faltered then stuttered some more.  It started, but the vibration grew stronger.  I didn’t feel good about it.

Moving at a snail’s pace, I travelled along the dirt road, a simple fire lane cut through the woods.  The excitement I felt when I left the cabin had been replaced by trepidation.  The ATV hesitated again as it rolled over a snow covered patch of ice.  I studied the gas gauge as I rocked it loose and moved forward.  Suddenly the motor stalled.

I turned the key to off then attempted to start it again when I heard the first whisper.  The wind had stilled and my blood ran cold.  The sound of dozens of hushed voices swept through the trees.  I heard the faint whispers of men, women, and children.  Snow fell from pine boughs here and there as if the sound frightened the evergreens too.

The volume increased and took on the cadence of a song, a mournful song of grief and misery.  I let go of the key and sat still on the seat.  It felt as if the temperature had just dropped 40° degrees.  I shivered and pulled my gloves on.  A strange wind stirred along the surface of the road.  It whirled through the weighted boughs, churning more snow up into the air.

In a flash, I was sitting in the middle of a peculiar blizzard.  The scent of wood smoke and freshly cut pine circled my head.  The wind didn’t touch me it simply whirled around me, spinning faster.  Yet as it spun wildly it could not drown out the whispers.

“Don’t go! Don’t go! Don’t go!”

“I waited for you, Erik.”

“Don’t go!”

“You called me into the cabin.”

“Don’t desert me, Erik.”

“Come home to the cabin.”

“Don’t go!  Don’t go!”

Dozens of different voices called to me, talking over each other.  I sat terrified as the crazy storm spun around me.  Abruptly, the wind died.  The snow settled again, and the air cleared.  The whispers faded high in the tops of the tallest pines.  Shocked by the display I’d witnessed, I looked to my left and right.  I feared what might come next. 

The clouds parted and the sun warmed my face.  Desperately, I wanted to believe that I had imagined the magic, but the evidence lay all around me.  An inch or more of fresh snow covered everything around me, yet none had touched me or the ATV.  An intense debate began in my head.  Should I continue on my way or return to the cabin?  Did I dare risk defying something so powerful?

My deliberation ended when I saw the coyotes at the end of the fire lane.  Three coyotes sat side by side.  I watched fixedly as they stared at me, no more than 200 feet away.  To reach the next road, I would need to pass them.  I knew they wouldn’t allow that. 

With my stomach clenching and my heart thumping crazily, I touched the key with my gloved fingers.  The faint click sounded and two of the coyotes stood.  The largest of them sat in the middle and bared his teeth.  I removed the key from the ignition and closed my eyes.  Slowly, I exhaled and opened them again.  The coyotes had moved to a spot only 100 feet from me.

I raised both hands with palms forward and climbed off the machine.  I removed the straps that held the shotgun in place.  The birdshot would not be lethal for the coyotes, but it would frighten them away.  I leveled it and aimed toward the largest of the three canines.  It stared back at me and offered a low growl.  I pumped the shotgun and the coyote tilted his head back.  He released a spine-chilling howl into the air and the others chimed in.

Along the tree line, snow shivered in the air, and several more coyotes stepped up onto the road.  They sat unnaturally, watching me calmly.  Warily, I shouldered the rifle and wrestled with the ATV to turn it around.  When it faced the fallen tree again, I looked back at the pack of coyotes.  They remained as still as statues. 

The roar of the motor shattered the silence.  I walked beside the machine until I reached the tree that blocked the road.  Carefully, I steered it around the end and up onto the trail beyond it.  Slowly, I eased the ATV forward, looking back frequently.  I saw no sign that the coyotes had followed, but I knew they would be travelling through the woods.  They didn’t need the game trail.

When I reached the clearing, puffs of wood smoke were spreading out above the chimney.  If I didn’t know better, I might mistake it for the home of a sweet little old woman.  But I knew better.  There would be no scent of warm gingerbread in that cabin.  There were no delicate lace doilies or freshly brewed tea with honey and lemon.  Misery and grief lived in there, and everyone knows that misery loves company.

*

I slammed the front door and kicked off my boots.  I was frightened and angry, as well.  While struggling with the stuck ATV, snow worked down into my boots.  It melted there and my thick wool socks were saturated.  They made a slapping sound against the wood floor as I crossed the room to the woodstove.  I pulled the door open and shoved a thick log in. 

The air began to waver, as if it was intensely hot.  The scent of a summer thunderstorm filled the room.  I stood rooted to the floor with my eyes darting to the left and the right.  Something dark passed by the window.  It appeared as a shadow with no source.  The thing stopped, blocking the front door.

“What do you want from me?” I shrieked in terror.

“Don’t go,” I heard from behind me.  I whirled around, but there was no one there.

“Why are you torturing me?” I pleaded.

“No,” it argued.  “Yield!”

“Yield?  Do you mean I should give up and stay?” 

“You will remain.”

“I can’t stay.  I cannot!” I shouted at the front door.

“You called me here.  You will not desert me now.”

“What?  What are you talking about?  I didn’t call you!  You have the wrong guy!”

“Decades past… you did.”

It struck me like a slap across the face.  The OUIJA board!  John and Jimmy Flaherty pressed their fingers against the planchette with me.  Jimmy had asked questions.  But I was the one who called to the spirit.  In hopes of showing Jimmy to be a liar, I challenged it to come to the table and communicate with us.  I was a child of eight years old with no understanding of what it could mean.  I swallowed hard and sat on the arm of the couch.

“It was a children’s game,” I attempted to explain. 

“You called to me.  I came to you.”

“It was a misunderstanding,” I implored.

Minutes passed as I stared at the front door through the wavering airwaves.  My mind raced, desperately trying to concoct a persuasive argument.  If I could reason with him then I would be permitted to leave without further harassment.  It was literally a misunderstanding between two beings.  Surely I could make him understand that.   

“I am genuinely sorry that we… that we ummm… disturbed you from your rest.  We were children.  We only played a game.  There was no… no way for us to know…”

“I was not at rest.  Still I answered when you queried me.”

“It was an innocent children’s game.  You can’t expect me to stay here as some penalty for the naïve actions of children.”

“You will remain,” he repeated firmly.

“I can’t survive here!  Do you understand that?” I shouted, desperately.  “Food, medicine, people to talk to… I can’t stay here!”

“The forest will provide and you may talk with me.”

“Who are you?” I roared.  “Who are you to tell me I must stay here?  Go back where you came from spirit and leave me alone!  I will not stay in this vile place!”

Angrily, I stomped into the bathroom and banged the door shut.  I flipped the lid down and sat.  With my head in my hands I struggled with the conversation I had just experienced.  If he was determined to keep me from leaving, what hope could there be for an escape?  He was able to control the animals!  If he couldn’t hurt me, I knew they would.

Something tapped at the bathroom door.  Amazed that a ghost would knock at the door I looked up.  Couldn’t it give me privacy in the bathroom?  The feeling of being watched was unnerving.

“Let me be!” I called out and cringed, fearing retribution.

The noise stopped.  With only a tiny window in the bathroom, there was no risk that I would go far.  Even if the window was bigger, I knew his animal sentries were waiting outside.  I couldn’t hear them or see them, but I knew they were out there.  The coyotes would be waiting and likely other creatures, as well. 

The idea that he could enter the bathroom if he wanted to didn’t escape me.  He had extended a courtesy in rapping at the door.  I dismissed the idea, refusing to feel indebted for any politeness he might extend.  I would have been extremely grateful if he agreed to let me leave the cabin and the woods.  Yet that would not happen without some convincing.  It would take time, but I was confident that I would sway him.

I accepted that the situation was far beyond my control.  Grudgingly, I swallowed my pride and stalked out into the sitting area again.  I flopped on the couch and grabbed a book from the small side table.  I opened it and pretended to read as I considered what reasoning might change his thinking.

I couldn’t help but laugh when I realized that I was contemplating a negotiation with something that could not be seen.  Some might argue that it was a spirit or a ghost, while others might say it was purely a figment of my imagination or imminent insanity.  This was no simple concoction of my mind.  I believed he was some sort of spirit.  Calling it a ghost was difficult for me.  A natural spirit of the woods seemed less menacing somehow.