Wendigo Psychosis

Chapter 1

She held her gun steady, pointing directly at my chest.

Look, I’m not going to hurt you, I said slowly, both hands held up to emphasize my words.  I just want to talk.

Like Hell, the woman snarled.  She held her gun firmly, but her hands were shaking and she was… crying?  "You bastards tore my daughter apart, and ate her."

Oh.  That explained the hostility.  But why hadn’t she shot me yet, if she despised Wendigos so much?  I thought for a moment, glancing around and counting my downed dogs.  One, two, three.... And how many shots had she missed?  Her gun was empty.

She was bluffing.

Look, I said, making no move toward her.  "I didn’t do any of that.  If you haven’t noticed, I am a mostly rational specimen of monstrously mutated humanity.  You don’t need to shoot me."

Rational?!  None of you are rational.  You’re starving monsters only looking for the next innocent person you can eat.

I tilted my head in a ‘sort of’ manner of agreement, my hands still raised placatingly.  "Most, yes, and I will admit that I am very hungry, but if I haven’t eaten you yet, you can be pretty sure I won’t in the next ten minutes."

I saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes, then a hardening of her expression.  Right, her life probably didn’t matter as much as her daughter’s death.  I thought for a moment that she was going to rush and attack me, regardless of her empty gun.

You couldn’t fight me off even if I did want to eat you, I added quickly, not with an empty gun.

She faltered, her hands finally lowering just a bit.  Her expression shifted to hopelessness in the face of something she knew she wouldn’t be able to change, or even avenge.

I can help you, you know, I said calmly, still making no move toward her.  Find the ones who did it, that is.  I can help you get revenge on the ones who killed her.

My words were met with a frown.  Why?

Because I find the lack of control in my brethren to be rather… nauseating.

A Wendigo with a conscience?

If you want to call it that.

Why me?

Because she had information no one else I could get to had.  Because otherwise you’ll try and hunt me down as a local menace, and I would rather not be bothered.

What’s to say I won’t kill you as soon as we’ve dealt with those other bastards?

I shrugged.  Eh, that’s your choice.  After a fight like that, you might have to.  I might be too hungry to control myself.

She grunted, finally lowering the gun.  You swear you’re gonna take me to the ones who killed my daughter?

It’ll take some research to figure out a way to get to them, but yeah, I’ll help you get revenge for your daughter.

And what do you get in return?  I’m not stupid enough to believe you’re just doing this out of the good of your frozen heart.

I smiled, lowering my hands.  It won’t be much.  I need help getting some information I can’t reach.

Evidently the sight of my smile, tight grayish skin stretched across too-sharp teeth, wasn’t terribly reassuring, because she paled for a moment before steeling herself and nodding.

Glad that’s settled, I said.  Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go adopt a new dog and eat, before I lose control of myself.  I’ll contact you in the next… twenty-four hours or so, and we can settle on an actual agreement.

Eat? she repeated, raising a brow, her gaze hardening again.  The dog?

What?  No, the dog’s for companionship, since you shot these three.  Dog flesh doesn’t sate the hunger, anyway.  Not that anything did for very long.  I’ll find someone already dead or dying, don’t worry.  There are plenty of them.

It wasn’t wise for one of my kind to walk the streets in daylight, or at any time there were normal humans around.  They tended to panic or react violently to a Wendigo’s presence, and while individually they didn’t pose much of a threat, in a mob they were more than capable of handling us.

The ironic thing was, we were, every one of us, once one of them.  But that didn’t matter.  We were their predators now, and humans were our prey.

I took back-streets and alleys as I traveled through the city.  The weather was cold.  It often was these days, except during the very height of summer, and even then the temperatures weren’t much more than warm.  A light snow was falling, helping to limit vision just a bit.  I didn’t mind the cold, or the snow.  I barely felt the cold, and the snow obscured me from view.

The confrontation with Amica left me ravenous.  I was always hungry, but after activity like that, chasing someone down and dodging bullets, that hunger rose to a ravening, barely-controlled level.  Another reason to avoid the main streets.  The smell of so many warm, living, human bodies could shatter my self-control.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a poor, tortured, angst-ridden monster fighting against my nature for the sake of my lost humanity.  I’m just more practical than most of my brethren.  Losing control and eating humans in public was a wonderful way to get yourself killed.  I liked living.  I wanted to keep doing so.

The snow dampened sound, but not so much that I didn’t hear the coughing coming from an alley as I passed.

I paused, listening closely.  Moving deliberately to avoid crunching the snow, I stalked down the alley, toward the source of the sound.

There was an old man there, caught in a rather violent coughing fit.  It was a fairly common sight.  Poor Normals would turn out their elders, freeing up their own meager resources and hopefully appeasing the Wendigos lurking outside.

I didn’t mind.  It kept my hunger under control and kept me from having to hunt down healthy Normals.  Although it did seem a little hypocritical that they called me a monster, then turned around and turned out their own like that.

The old man got over his coughing fit, wheezing a bit as he tried to catch his breath.

I stopped trying to be quiet and simply walked toward him.  He wasn’t going to run.  He spotted me, starting with surprise and fear.  Spurred on by his helplessness, I stopped holding back my hunger and rushed forward.

The hunger never really goes away.  That’s our curse.  The prevailing theory was that it was a chemical drive, that our brains were constantly emitting a hunger signal and never a satiated.  I had seen Wendigos in such a frenzy of hunger that they literally ate until their stomach burst.  Usually that only occurred after an extended period of starvation, but it did happen.

The hunger does quiet to a tolerable level, but only with human flesh.  Meat from other creatures could take away the worst of the drive, but not nearly so much as human, and a diet only of other meat would lead a Wendigo to a slow decline into hunger insanity.  That was a fate I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Blood remained caked under my fingernails, but I did manage to otherwise get myself cleaned up using the mostly-undisturbed snow surrounding me.

My next task was to find a new dog.  Dogs made excellent companions.  Loyal, trainable, and wonderful hunters, they made life much easier.  I had been rather fond of the three Amica had killed, but I couldn’t spare the time to mourn them.  A new dog would help me maintain my territory and my hunting grounds.

I had an understanding with a few local animal shelters.  Over the past several years, as the weather turned perpetually colder and life became harder, such places found themselves increasingly overrun, with ever-fewer resources to care for the animals they acquired.  There were a few in the city that would allow me to come by every now and then and adopt a few dogs.  The Normals running the shelters obviously didn’t like me, but I brought the dogs back to say hello often enough that I had convinced them that I didn’t just eat the canines as soon as I adopted them.

Unfortunately, even if I didn’t eat them, most of my dogs didn’t live more than a year or two at most, and more often only lived a couple of months.  It was a hard life.  There were angry mothers seeking revenge for their daughters that might shoot them.  But, I provided for them the best I could, and they weren’t unhappy while they were with me.  In fact, they were better cared for with me than they would be at the under-supplied animal shelters.

Once I finished with that, I would go meet with Amica.  I knew where she lived; I had been keeping track of her, and a few other people, for years.  I needed to identify someone who could help me find my brother, and so far, Amica was my best bet.

I wasn’t involved in her daughter’s death.  That had been a pack of Wendigos whose territory was near mine and encompassed Amica’s house and her daughter’s school. Their attack had actually been fairly big news; it was the first time such a large group of Wendigos had been witnessed working together.  It was a bold attack, and resulted in quite a few deaths.  Most of the deaths had been Normals, and mostly children at that.  Apparently that pack had a liking for tender flesh.  There were a few other schools in their territory, and over time, none of them had gone un-attacked.

Personally, I thought it was stupid to go after children.  Those children hadn’t done anything, and killing so many of them would undermine the breeding population and bring undue attention to yourself.  Despite a Wendigo’s superior strength, stamina, and constitution, we could still be killed, and we needed the Normals for our own survival.

I paused outside the animal shelter, turning and looking along the street in either direction.  This part of the city was never busy at this time of the day, and there didn’t seem to be anyone about.  Good.  I didn’t really want to deal with some suburban mom getting her son a puppy while I was in there.

Walking in, I smiled at the receptionist, who visibly blanched at my expression.  I wasn’t surprised.  A Wendigo’s smile isn’t exactly reassuring.

Don’t worry, I said, I’m not here to eat anyone.  I have an agreement with your boss.  Is Mrs. Blanchette in?

The receptionist stared at me for several long moments, and I was starting to wonder if I had put her in a permanent freeze state when she finally nodded slowly and picked up her phone.  She entered a number, barely daring to look away from me.  I leaned against the wall, waiting.

Mrs. Blanchette? the receptionist said, her voice shaking.  There’s a… a Wen… a Wendigo here.  He says he has an agreement with you?

She was silent for a moment, then addressed me.  Are you Jason? she asked.

I nodded.

Yes, it’s Jason, she said into the phone.  She nodded at something the other person said, then hung up.  Ok, she said to me, you can, uh, go back.

Standing and moving to a door beside her desk, she unlocked it, then took several steps back as I approached, nodded at her pleasantly, and went through to the back of the shelter.

The back smelled strongly of animal.  Even to a Normal’s nose it would be unpleasant, but to me it was nearly overwhelming.  I likely wouldn’t be here long, though, and could tolerate it for as long as I needed to.

I walked down the hallway, past side rooms lined with cages of smaller animals, to the back, where there were larger rooms lined with kennels.  A few dogs barked as I passed, but most of them simply cowered.

I was met in the back by a short woman.  Her medium-brown hair went down to her chin, and was styled to curl under in a little bob.  She wore an over-sized green t-shirt and jeans, both of which were stained by long interaction with animals.

Jason, she greeted me, nodding.  Her gaze was locked on me, not leaving me for a second.  She didn’t trust me, which was only reasonable.

Katelyn, I returned.  You’re looking well.

You’re not, she replied.  Have you been getting in fights again?

Had I been killing people, she meant.

Only the one, and she’s still alive.  I’m meeting her later, actually, to discuss some business.  She.... also shot my dogs.

The woman snorted.  "Should have put a bullet in you while she was at it, maybe teach you to be a bit more careful with your companions."

That’s not fair, I replied.  I take good care of my dogs.

Until they die.

We all die.

She huffed again, and turned away, starting down the row of kennels.  I followed.

We have a few dogs that may suit you, she said.  I haven’t been able to adopt them out due to temperament, but you seem to have a way with dogs, so they may like you.

I nodded along with her words, observing the kennels as we passed.  The dogs back here were mostly larger breeds, and that was what I always went for.  A small, yappy dog wouldn’t survive two days living with me.

We stopped at the last set of kennels, perpendicular to the rest, blocking in the end of the row.  In the kennel on the left was a large black mutt.  He looked like he was part German Shepherd, and probably had some sort of bulldog breed mixed in as well.  He looked solid, and long-furred enough to survive cold weather.  The kennel on the right held what looked suspiciously like a wolf-mix.  She was dark gray, with coldly intelligent eyes that followed my movements.  I looked at them both for a moment, and they looked back at me.  I think they’ll do, I told Katelyn.  Have you been able to do anything with them yet?

Just basic vetting.  They’ve both been fixed, and we made sure they had some basic shots.

Good.  That’ll be a few less things for me to have to worry about.

I approached the black male, and he lifted his head, posturing, a low half-growl rumbling in his throat.  I gently met his gaze and didn’t back away.  After several moments, he glanced away, lowering his head a bit.  I changed to a relaxed stance and told him what a good boy he was in a pleasant voice.  He seemed uncertain, but wagged the very tip of his tail just a bit.

I repeated the same with the female, though it took her longer to calm down and respond to praise.  I nodded to Katelyn, who unlocked their kennels.  We opened the doors, and as each of the dogs came rushing out, I snapped my fingers.  They stopped and looked at me, surprised.  I nodded and gave each of them a pat on the head.

Turning, I saw Katelyn watching the dogs warily, looking from them to me.  She saw me watching and cleared her throat.  I still haven’t found out how you get them to listen so quickly, she said, and turned, heading back to the front.

I followed.  They respond more to body language and tone than actual words, I replied, and they see me as more similar to them than to a human, which makes most of them curious and willing to listen.

Hmm.  Just take them and go.  I don’t want any trouble here.

Of course not, I agreed amicably.  I smiled toothily and nodded at her as I left, shooting the receptionist a smile as well.  She didn’t move from where she sat frozen at her desk while I went through the reception area.

My new companions and I headed out into the snowy evening.  The light snow had become thicker, further obscuring vision with large, heavy flakes.  The pile-up of snow would make transportation through the city difficult for many people, which would make hunting good for some of the more opportunistic Wendigos.

Glancing at the two dogs and calling for them to follow, I started to lope through the few inches of snow, back toward my house.  I would go see Amica in a few hours, but for now I was going to get to know these two.  They needed names.

Chapter 2

Shadow and Ash followed me through the city, two silent shadows flanking me, partly obscured by the falling snow.  We had been travelling for nearly twenty minutes, alone in the snow-bound city.

We were approaching my house, one in a row of old, decrepit buildings in what was once a moderately-bad neighborhood.  Now it was an empty one, except for me and the wild-life, most of which avoided me.

Much of the neighborhood moved South when the climate grew cold, and the rest left when I established the center of my territory here.  I would have been fine with them staying, it gave the area a sense of normalcy and helped me avoid unwanted attention from government or scientific authorities, but apparently the residents weren’t comfortable with a Wendigo living next door.

The two dogs were hesitant about coming inside with me, but after some encouragement, they cautiously slipped inside after me.  I shut the door and locked it behind us, though a dog-flap set into it would allow them to go out if they really wanted to.

There wasn’t much light filtering in from what lingered outside, so I lit a few candles around the main room.  The electricity had been shut off a few years prior, though I wasn’t particularly bothered.  The cold didn’t affect me as it did Normal humans, so long as I took care not to freeze entirely.

While the dogs sniffed around, getting to know the place, I went upstairs to retrieve my own gun and several rounds of ammunition. I hadn’t wanted to carry it the first time I met Amica, not wanting to give the entirely wrong impression.  Just being a Wendigo was bad enough, as evidenced by three dead dogs.

I gathered up a few other supplies, stowing them all in an old military backpack, the olive-colored canvas faded with age.  Shouldering that, I went back downstairs, whistling for the dogs.  They didn’t come right away, and I whistled again.  They came this time, curious, and I praised them for responding.

With them following, I headed back out into the snowy evening.

Amica’s house was quite a trek from mine.  It was in a different part of the city, in the territory of the pack who had killed her daughter.  I didn’t want to be spotted moving through it.  They probably wouldn’t harm me if they did see me; most Wendigos were alright with each other crossing territory lines… so long as there was no hunting in the other’s territory.  I wasn’t hunting, but I didn’t want to make the pack think that I was up to something.

I kept my eyes peeled as I moved, taking care to step quietly.  Shadow and Ash followed my