Lake of Nightmares

By Russ Meidinger

A creature, a spirit, known in Algonquian mythology as a Windigo; it is said to have been spawned from someone who indulged in the eating of human flesh, even during times of survival. In Canadian folklore, this is described as a balance in nature and the spirit is believed to have the ability to possess and corrupt a human being.
A remote and unnamed mountain lake in the Canadian Rocky Mountains, far from the beaten path.
A young man with a haunted past and a unique sense of adventure... he is determined to locate this lake as he searches for trophy cutthroat trout and solitude.
The young man's solo backpacking fishing trip turns into an intense fight for survival and a chilling struggle to retain his sanity when he discovers the dark and disturbing secret the lake hides, just below its calm and pristine surface.
Join him on his adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mirador Publishing
• Release date: Jul 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781910105962

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Lake Of Nightmares

A Windigo Story

By

Russ Meidinger

First Published by Mirador Publishing at Smashwords

Copyright 2017 by Russ Meidinger

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All right reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without permission of the publishers or author. Excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

First edition: 2017

Any reference to real names and places are purely fictional and are constructs of the author. Any offence the references produce is unintentional and in no way reflect the reality of any locations involved.

A copy of this work is available though the British Library.

IBSN : 978-1-910105-96-2

I wish to dedicate this book to Susan Gail Aman.

She taught me to follow my dreams and was my best friend.

The Algonquian people of Canada believe those who indulge in the eating of human flesh, even in terms of survival, could transform into a beast or spirit. Often described in Algonquian mythology as a balance of nature, this beast or spirit is believed to have the ability to possess a human being and is known as a Windigo.

CHAPTER 1

DANNY

It’s the month of March 1962 on a frozen Canadian prairie lake. The gently rolling hills go on for miles in the open landscape, blanketed in a soft snowy cover with rough patches of gray sagebrush breaking the smooth outline. The sheer flatness of the frozen lake stretches itself sinuously for miles in the basin of these rolling hills. A gust of wind picks up, sending loose snow particles skating along the shoreline. The sound is like someone crinkling tinfoil paper. Amidst all the white snow and cold gray landscape, right at the lakes frozen edge, appears a small green patch. New life is awakening from its winter dormancy. It’s not quite spring, but something is eager to re-enter this world prematurely. A skinny green stem sprouts up from the cold snow in the warmth of the morning sun. Its sepals slowly open like a banana peel, and newborn yellow flower petals stretch themselves outward awkwardly to meet the sun. The cold winter wind bends and wilts the petals, trying its best to destroy the flower’s will and determination, but it remains strong and retains its shape. It’s persistent and holds its ground. In the background a small ice fishing party is on the lake. Father and son. The boy is twelve years old.

Are you warm enough, Danny? the father asks.

Yes, Dad. The boy is lying. He’s scared of revealing any sign of weakness in front of his father. His feet are tingling from the cold, fingers are so numb he can barely hold onto his fishing rod. They’re sitting on lawn chairs out on the ice. Their car is parked safely on shore thirty yards away. It’s a beautiful march day, sunny with a slight warming spring wind in the air. Danny keeps shifting his position in the chair. He’s wiggling his toes around, hidden safely within his winter boots. Trying his best to keep his body warm and hoping his father doesn’t notice this.

I sure wish the fish were biting, the father says, it sure beats sitting at home though. He jigs away with his fishing rod. The eight inch hole through the ice, the red and white spoon dancing off the bottom of the lake bed stirs up loose pieces of sand and debris. The commotion fails to capture the attention of any fish on this day. Looking over at his son with a slight frown, he’s a bit worried. Sometimes he wonders if his son even likes these outdoor adventures he takes him on. Maybe he only comes along to spend time with his him? Maybe he would rather be at home where it’s warm? He was never that way with his own father. His own love of the outdoors was quite obvious even at his son’s age. If he remembers correctly, he was always begging his father to take him hunting and fishing. His face was always stuffed in a sportsman’s magazine, field and stream or outdoor life. Was forever dreaming of an outdoor adventure, always wanting his father to buy him the latest fishing rod or hunting rifle. Danny always has his face planted in a comic book and he never talks about the outdoors. He’s usually so quiet and reserved. If you’re getting bored, Danny, or cold, we can head for home, he asks.

No let’s stay till we catch dinner, he replies. Just one fish, he just wants to catch at least one to show mom. He wants to prove to her that he can be an outdoorsmen like his father. The bobber, he stares intently at it, focusing on it. Eight feet below a shiner minnow is suspended on a treble hook. It sits motionless, its scent is broadcasted around it, but doesn’t attract the attention of any northern pike either on this day. In his mind, Danny visualizes a large pike approaching his bait. It strolls up to the minnow slowly, calculating its attack. It’s staring at it now, just a few inches away, relishing the scent, ready to strike. Danny keeps glaring at the bobber, imagining it bobbing and twitching in the water. Willing it to move, to come to life... but nothing.

The father stirs in his seat and sighs. He’s wearing a blue, fur hooded parka, and pulls out a knife from the pocket. Always has to carry it with him wherever he goes. It’s a Schrade Old Timer folding knife. He looks at it, studies it for a moment and then puts it away again.

Danny notices this... he always seems to have this knife with him, even at home. He’s never seen his father use it for anything, it’s almost like a keepsake of sorts. If it’s supposed to be a good luck charm, it sure does nothing for fishing.

Do you still have the grocery list mom gave you this morning? the father asks, You know, the one just in case we don’t catch any fish for supper. The same one I said we wouldn’t need. His father laughs, trying his best to cheer up his son.

Danny reaches into his coat pocket and brings out a piece of paper. Suddenly a gust of wind picks up and sends it flying out of his hand. The paper sails away further out of reach on the ice. Sorry, Dad he cries out.

Shit, his father says as he jumps out of his seat, wait here I’ll grab it. The grocery list dances in the air caught up in a current, it’s taunting and teasing him. Finally the wind dies down and it settles to the ice forty yards away, further out on the ice in deeper water. His father is walking briskly, afraid of the wind picking up again. It feels so good to stretch his legs after sitting so long. Each step pulls slightly on his tight hamstrings, loosening and freeing the knots that were gifted from the lawn chair. He’s concentrating on the piece of paper now, fixated on its location, the wind could return just before he gets there. It always does, it’s like a little game the wind likes to play on you. Just as you bend down to grab something, the wind picks it up again and sends it away just out of your reach. Not this time he’s thinking as he approaches the paper. It’s just sitting there, waiting for him as he gets closer, it’s just itching for the wind to return.

Something shifts at his feet. He stops in his tracks and looks down at the ice. It’s snow-covered and hiding what lies below. He’s thinking it’s nothing to worry about. The ice cracks all the time when he’s out fishing, it usually does when there’s a temperature change. It’s spring, he can feel a slight breeze warming his cheek. Kicking at the snow with his boots, he exposes the ice condition below. It reveals itself to the assault, it’s gray in color and slightly mottled. A gentle gust of wind picks up, sliding the piece of paper further away along the ice... of course. He starts towards the paper again, this time intent on a retrieval. The sound of thunder blasts out shaking his feet. The vibrations explode from the ice and tingle up his spine. But it’s not thunder, it’s the ice cracking. Stopping in his tracks, he’s scared to move. He’s heard this sound before, but never felt it like this. Never this loud, never this angry.

Danny hears the thunderous cracking noise and is alarmed. Dad what was that? he cries out.

The father slowly turns around while he keeps his eyes planted to his feet. Trying to keep all his movements slow now. He has to be careful, must not disturb the ice any further. He can hear drums pounding. Then he can feel them pounding, it’s his heartbeat. Danny, just stay where you are, he says.

Dad what’s wrong? he asks with a trembling voice.

Nothing’s wrong. The ice is just a little weak right here so I’m coming back your way. Don’t worry. He starts slowly moving back towards Danny, back to the safer ice. One little step at a time, no quick movements. Be as light as a feather, no sudden movements. Keeping his head down, he watches the ice beneath him as he walks. Focusing on his boots as he tries to tiptoe his way quietly along. There’s a thunderous cracking noise... the ice explodes beneath his feet sending him falling into the bitterly cold water. There’s darkness and intense burning. The water burns his skin and eyes like a roaring fire. He can’t see, his eyes no longer work. His feet suddenly hit something and he realizes it’s the lake bottom. A bright light is sensed above and instinctively he swims towards it. Must reach the light.

Dad! Danny cries in anguish. Running towards his father now on numb legs. His whole world is falling before his eyes.

He reaches the opening in the ice, head is above water now. The cold water is so shocking his entire body feels disabled, so helpless and disoriented. Panic sets in and he’s flailing his arms fiercely to brace something. Must find an anchor, something solid to hold onto! He manages to find the edge of the ice and holds himself in place. Holding onto the edge, holding onto his life.

Danny’s running towards him crying and wailing profusely now. Dad, dad he cries out.

He can just make out a dark shadow running and screeching towards him as his eyes start to focus once again. Stay where you are, he tries to yell out, but it’s more of a gasp as water spits from his mouth. His breathing is erratic now, his pulse is racing. He has to get out of the water, pull himself onto the ice.

Danny comes to a stop as ordered. He’s whimpering and crying, the tears spilling like a cold hard rain. Feels so helpless, so utterly confused. Nobody else is around to help. Terrified seeing his father so vulnerable. Scanning the lake shore, he’s desperately searching for someone... anyone. Nobody is here, he’s all alone. Alone and afraid. He doesn’t know what to do! Danny needs his father to tell him what to do. He just stands there, twenty yards from his father, vibrating and leaking away... waiting for him to do something.

His father lies on his stomach, horizontal in the water, and tries to kick his way onto the ice. Thrashing and kicking with his legs to propel himself. Pulls with his arms, but the ice is too slippery, he just keeps falling back into the water. He looks like a helpless baby seal trying to beach itself. He stops kicking, he’s getting too weak. Stops pulling with his arms, it’s too slippery. His muscles are cramping and balling up into knots as he clutches the edge of the ice. Lactic acid courses through his veins, contracting everything in its path. His heavy soaked parka, it’s like a straight-jacket, he can barely move. The knife! He can use it as an anchor on the ice. It might be enough to pull himself out of the water, pull himself to safety. Fighting the parka, he reaches into his coat pocket. His hands are trembling now, the bones rattling. He thinks he finds the folding knife in his pocket, his fingers are so numb, but something hard bites back. Gripping it hard, his knuckles too numb to crack, he brings it above water. He must open the blade. Glaring at the knife in his right hand, it’s bouncing around like a popcorn kernel. His hands are shaking uncontrollably now.

Danny’s just watching, he still doesn’t know what to do. Completely in shock now. His entire body struggling to breathe and comprehend as he shakes and wails away. Finally he moves slowly towards his father to help. He wants to do something... anything.

His body is breaking down. He can’t control the muscles in his hands. Can’t open the knife blade. All he can do is look at it as it bobs around. His brain sends a signal to his hand to react, to open the blade... but he’s too cold, too numb. All his body can do is shiver. That’s all it wants to do, it’s just trying to keep warm. There’s a shadow approaching. Dan, he tries to yell out, but it’s more of a whimper, a plea.

He stops again at the sound of his father’s words. The weakness in his voice, the desperation. It terrifies Danny to hear this.

Dan... there’s a bundle of rope in the trunk of the car. Keys in the ignition. Get the rope. You have to try to pull me out.

Danny’s mind is racing... finally an order from his father! He now knows what to do to help, he has some direction. Turning to run, he trips on the ice and falls heavily. Scrambling back to his feet, he starts running to the car. Again he falls to the ice. Fuck! he curses, and gets up again and runs more carefully. His vision focused on the car now, the 1959 Impala is parked on shore. Reaching the car, he goes to the trunk, kicking up clouds of loose snow. The latch! Where’s the latch! Fumbling to find the latch, his eyes bulging wildly out of the sockets, but he only sees a keyhole. Then he remembers what his father said... Keys in the ignition. He runs to the driver’s side door, opens it and grabs the keys. Returning to the trunk, in horror he finds a chain loaded with ten keys. He’s in panic mode now, frantically trying each one. A metallic clanking rings out as he fumbles and wrestles with each one, scratching the paint on the trunk as he fights. Must get the rope for dad. He’s counting on me. Finally finding the right one, he opens the trunk, grabs the bundle of rope and runs out on the ice again. He sees his father still clinging to the edge of the ice, his two arms outstretched and quivering on the ice and his head above water. The soaked fur hood clinging to his head like a bandage. This is all he can see of him. Dad, dad he cries out as he runs towards him with the rope thrashing at his side.

Not too close, he whimpers to his son, keep your distance. His voice is hardly recognizable anymore. Unravel the rope and throw it to me.

Danny stops ten yards away, shaking now much like his father. The rope is coiled tight and tied securely together in the middle. He tries loosening the knot with his hands, but he’s too weak, it’s so tight. He starts crying as he fumbles with the rope.

His father is watching anxiously. Dan... you need to cut the knot. I will throw you my knife. Use the knife. He’s so weak now. His entire body feels so numb, he can’t feel anything. His breathing is becoming labored and sporadic. The knife’s still embedded in his right hand. He can’t feel it anymore, but he can see that he’s still holding it. His eyes are glued on it. With all his remaining strength, he stretches his right arm back and launches the folded knife towards his son.

It lands five feet from Danny who lunges at it and picks it up. He’s seen his father with this knife so many times yet this is the first time he’s held it. Managing to open the blade, he starts cutting viciously at the knot binding the rope. His hand slips and there’s a shearing pain as he slices into his left hand thumb. The cut is deep and spews blood onto the rope and reddens the surrounding snow. He represses the pain and goes back to cutting the knot. Danny manages to finally cut it, freeing the rope.

His father is helpless. Good going, Dan. Now unravel the rope and throw me one end. You’re doing just fine.

The words are so slurred Danny barely recognizes his father’s voice. Fumbling with the rope bundle, he manages to get it unraveled. Taking one end, he throws it to his father, but misses terribly. Fuck, he yells out. Quickly retrieving the rope he throws it again, but misses. He starts crying.

Son... bring me the rope. Just come about five yards from me and toss me one end. Walk very slow, be careful, his father says.

Danny does as he’s told and finally his father has his lifeline.

Good. Now see if you can pull me out, his father says. His voice is a little less slurred now, more hopeful. He clasps the rope with his hands. Everything feels so numb he has to look to make sure he has it in his hands. He holds on for dear life.

Danny backs up with the rope until he feels tension. He looks to his father... his face looks so pale now, it’s turning gray. His breathing is heard from here, it’s so labored, wheezing like an old man. His eyes look so desperate and scared, so glassy and pleading. He’s depending on you! Danny starts pulling on the rope. There’s snow cover on the ice and he’s wearing cleats on his boots, so he can at least anchor himself while he tries to pull his father free. There’s a chance, but he’s so young and weak. Danny digs his boot cleats deep into the snow and pulls with all his strength. All ninety pounds of him are straining and grinding against the rope while his father stretches himself out horizontally in the ice-cold water. Danny recalls playing tug of war back in gym class at school. Grab the rope hard and lean back. Pull with all your strength. Keep digging in with your feet and use the power in your legs to propel backwards. It’s working! He can feel the weight advancing. His father is halfway out of the water now. Danny continues to pull. He looks back to his father through teared and blurry eyes. His arms are fully extended as he clasps the rope, his eyes are closed tight, praying. His face is grimaced with gritted teeth as he holds onto the rope for dear life. The muscles in Danny’s arms and legs are starting to strain. There’s intense pain now as his muscles cramp and finally give out. Falling backwards onto the ice, he’s totally exhausted. His hands are too cramped now to grip the rope again.

He’s mostly out of the water now and safely onto the ice. Lying on his stomach, only his legs from the knees down are still in the