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Summary: Size matters not.

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Literature > HorrorbatzulgerFR151714,17544319,70111 Nov 0929 Jan 14Yes

Chapter Twelve

In my long and exciting career, I have met more than my share of odd, unusual, and downright lethal individuals. The winner for lethality has got to go to a gentleman by the name of John Sinclair. Sinclair, or Chant as he is more well known among the various three letter agencies and international law enforcement bureaus, is possibly the world's greatest assassin.

I first met him during a not very pleasant trip to Switzerland when everyone from the CIA to a ninja death cult were after his ass. Harper, Veil, Garth and myself 'assisted' Sinclair in killing all the folks that needed killing, saving the ones that needed saving, and pissing off the rest.

After that he went back to his hobby of conning international criminals and dirty government agencies out of cash, information, and international respect and then killing the ringleaders in amazingly, gratuitously bloody ways. Me, I collect stamps and good scotch.

Garth on receiving a Valhalla message called Chant for back-up, and since he was at loose ends, he said yes and that he would meet up with the rest in Minnesota. This is not necessarily good news you understand. Chant never deals with problems in half-measures.


Over at Alamo North we had no idea what kind of reinforcements were enroute. We were more concerned that whatever hoodoo kept this mound sanctified wasn't going to run out suddenly and leave us as catch of the day. Coyote's wound had stopped bleeding and Harper was rubbing his ears and telling him what a brave and strong killing machine he was. Dan was watching from the ground and I was still in my tree-top perch keeping an eye out for...well...anything really.

"Yo Mongo! Movement north!"

I turned in response to Dan's alert and saw a group of three of the things dragging a limp naked human out into view. Once they were sure we were watching, the three proceeded to eat their captive alive. We could clearly hear the screams and the cracking and crunching of bone and cartilage. Then the baby crying sounds started again.

"Mongo, what are those things?"

"I have no..." my voice trailed off. We are in sooo much trouble my love."

"More than we're already in? You figured it out didn't you."

"Partially I think. Those are wendigo."

"Isn't that like a Canadian thing?"

"Yeah Dan. I remember reading about a case back in the 1870's in Alberta. This trapper caught something called 'Wendigo Psychosis'. The desire to perform cannibalism even when there are plentiful food supplies. Wendigo were supposedly this boogieman that were created when a man performed cannibalism. The more a man ate human flesh, the more of a beast they became. Finally in form as well as mind."

"So what the hell are they doing here?"

"That's the part I haven't figured out yet. Give me some time."

"So those were people Robbie?"

"Yeah...when I was teaching a section on serial killer motivations, the ones that scared me the most were the cannibals."

"Doc, did you read any legends on what could kill these things?"

"Sorry Dan, I got nothing. I'm actually kind of amazed I knew what they were to be honest."

"Well," said my brilliant wife, "Coyote killed one by ripping out its throat, so they aren't indestructible, and they obviously have to feed, maybe they have to sleep too?" she scratched her chin. "And because they came from humans they probably are as smart or as dumb as the humans they were. That means they can be tricked..." her voice trailed off.

"Harper my dear, do you have a plan?"

"Not yet...not exactly. Let me sleep on it. They won't be coming closer otherwise they would have rushed us already. They need to kill us up close, so they can smell the blood. Like a rogue tiger."

"Alright dear, you get some rest. I'll take first watch."

"Thanks Robbie," she snuggled up next to Coyote and was out like a light.

"Dan, you get some rest too. I'll wake you in a couple of hours."

He nodded and stretched out on the ground, "Hey Mongo?"


"Is this the worst trouble you've been in?"

"I'm not sure...I'll tell you if we survive."

"I'm holding you to that. G'night."

"Night Dan," I climbed back up my trusty tree and returned to keeping watch.
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