Goodbye Benny

"BRAINS . . . BRAINS . . . BRAINS"

Benny repeated the phrase in a mechanical groan, his emotionless solid-black eyes contrasting with the rapacious hunger spelt out on his face.

Ethan was at a loss for further words. His best buddy was as beyond reason as Ethan had been a couple nights before! What the heck were they going to do with Benny, deep in the forest, trying to eat their brains? Was this a temporary thing, so long as Benny was under the influence of the Wendigo? Or would it last as long as the counterfeit curse?

And . . . grrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Couldn't Ethan's own cursed instincts . . . constantly foisted on him and foreign to his natural way of thinking . . . give him a five-minute break? Why was it that growling was the hardest thing not to do?

Ethan looked helplessly at Sarah as the four retreated from the plodding, stumbling Benny.

"We have to beat him up, and tie him up" said Sarah, sympathetically. "It's just lucky he moves slow."

Benny took this moment to trip off the railway embarkment and roll down into some bushes.

"If he doesn't beat himself up first" said Erica. "Even as a zombie he's a loser."

"You might be . . . I dunno . . . nice for a change" complained Rory, who had pulled his life sabre from his scabbard, and was brandishing it in front of him. "We're talking about our best bud!"

"Forget Erica" said Ethan acidly, who had with difficulty restrained himself from saying anything harsher. "We have to make sure we catch Benny without hurting him, or letting him bite us. He may be contagious. We may have joked about it but I don't need to be the world's first combination-counterfeit-zombie-werewolf."

Benny slowly climbed up the embarkment, groaning. Not from pain, as it was a low embarkment and a soft landing along the side of the cut.

"Just zombie-movie-style groaning" Rory observed.

Ethan now pulled out his retractable light sabre. Although it wouldn't hurt Benny, it would help keep him away and stop him from biting.

"I guess . . . in modern zombie movies . . . this is why they're usually only a threat in numbers" said Ethan.

"But, uh, who's going to beat him up?" said Rory.

"Me" said Sarah resignedly. "And not for the first time."

But at that moment, their slow, grudging retreat was leading them up to the dead snowmobiler. And that led to another problem.

A crashing noise from immediately behind the teens showed they faced a much greater threat.

The dead snowmobiler stood up and kicked his snowmobile off the railbed into some stones . . . in such a way that the gasoline poured from the engine (sending the smell of gasoline to mix with the rotting stench the Wendigo had left).

The snowmobiler also groaned, and much faster than Benny, grabbed at the four. His eyes, deep in the skin-covered skull, weren't black but eerily open wide and unblinking.

Along with Erica, Sarah and Roy stumbled down the embankment and against the slope of the steep hill leading up from the cut to the rest of the forest.

Zombie Benny looked blankly down the embankment, before being sent tumbling down again as a casualty of Ethan's fight with the snowmobiler.

"What's Ethan doing?" said Sarah.

"Werewolf instincts" said Erica casually. "He has to take the fight himself, if it's that close to him. He can't wimp out and let you protect him."

Ethan's sunglasses had gone flying, and yellow-eyed he was in a struggle with the burly yet skeletal snowmobiler. Instinct counted for much in this fight, and Ethan held the dead man at bay.

"He shouldn't be up there alone" said Sarah. "I'll . . . ."

"Brains" interrupted Benny. "Brains . . . brains!"

"Let's see about Benny" said Sarah, resignedly. "Rory, get that tree branch, it's short and doesn't look too heavy."

Sarah, Rory and Erica lifted a old fallen limb. A well aimed karate chop by Sarah kept Benny down, and the tree limb on Benny's feet did the rest.

Benny again tried to rise, but didn't realize that he had to take the branch off his ankle first.

"Dude, you can't think can you?" said Rory, sympathetically.

"Brains . . . brains" Benny continued to groan.

"You're giving me a migraine" sneered Erica. "Brains! Brains! That's why I hate zombies. You never see a zombie in Dusk."

"But how are we going to take him with us?" said Sarah. "And where's Ethan?"

Ethan was still in a struggle with his intractable foe. Under ordinary circumstances, the man could have beat Ethan black and blue . . . but he was reduced to a skeleton, while Ethan was reduced to having the instincts and protections of a unnatural predator.

The snowmobiler mostly used a lumbering punch; it often missed but it just as often hit Ethan sending him onto the railroad bed with an angry growl on the teen's part. This would have been a serious problem, had it not been for the fact that Ethan was resilient now to everything but silver.

Ethan's premier move was a type of side-swipe punch, delivered with he kept his teeth bared. That worked better as a werewolf than as a human being, where it looked a little dumb. Yet, it was as powerful as the snowmobiler's punches. It staggered the snowmobiler each time . . . but he was resilient, if dead, and he didn't fall.

Unlike during his fight with Malcolm, Ethan's mind was now consumed by anger and instinct. There were three reasons for this. The first was that the dead snowmobiler was a much more dangerous enemy than the invisible (and greedy) teen. The second reason was that in the days that had gone by, the curse had reached it full strength . . . do whatever Ethan could to work against it. The third problem? The place; deep in the fog-bound boreal forest it took very little for werewolf instinct to come on top.

The next punch connected with Ethan, again sending him sprawling to the ground. But this time, in getting up, he accidentally thumbed the water gun filled with holy water. The cold air had meant condensation had formed along the outside of water gun, but the operation of natural forces didn't in any way impede the blessing upon it.

Good again, was stronger than evil.

The water had the happy effect of bringing Ethan back to his full senses.

"That's the difference" Ethan said to himself, "Of not having your soul cursed. And actually being in my own natural body, even if I'm bruised and, well, werewolf-ized. Even a man who's pure at heart, and says his prayers at night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the Autumn moon shines bright."

Ethan then spoke to his dead opponent.

"But . . . what's happened to you? You were dead a few minutes ago? And you don't even understand what I'm saying . . . do you? You may have been a jock, but I'm betting you were more a Tom Towers . . . even David Stochowski . . . than a Bill Vanlake kind of guy? It takes a real fracking creep to beat up somebody you meet in the middle of the forest! I'm betting you weren't that type of creep!"

Ethan ducked another punch, but nearly ran into Sarah atop the embankment while he was retrieving his light sabre.

"Be careful" warned Ethan. "This man can kill with those Superman punches of his."

"I think I can handle him" said Sarah, not in a bragging voice but in a thoughtful way. "He acts like a zombie."

"I think the poor guy is a zombie" said Ethan, as the two slowly retreated toward the Dodge Challenger. "And not a counterfeit, like Benny. Someone . . . Stephanie I bet . . . is using his body as an puppet. He's an old-school, un-dead slave. A reanimated corpse. He's clumbsy, but he's not interested in brains."

Ethan used his light sabre to keep the zombie away. The zombie misinterpreted it to be an actual sword and stayed back.

"So his soul's gone?" said Rory as he climbed up the embankment.

"As gone as those of the animals Benny brought back to life" said Ethan. "Only this man isn't demon-possessed."

"So we can use holy water on him?" said Rory.

Rory, without waiting for a reply, took that as an invitation to spray the zombie with holy water. But not being demon-possessed, it didn't do much to the snowmobiler besides stall him in his tracks.

"That's his actual body" said Ethan. "It won't dissolve a real person even if his soul's moved on."

"No, but it stopped him for now" said Sarah.

Sarah gave the snowmobiler's zombie a karate kick that sent him down the embankment, albeit the opposite one from Benny. Ethan and Rory scrambled down the short hill after her, and helped her move a much heavier log.

"That's cool" said Rory, relieved. "I hoped the old shoot-the-zombie-in-the-head rule wasn't going to be in play."

"That would be tough" agreed Ethan, adding wryly. "Especially since we don't have an actual gun."

"Are you finished with the zombie yet?" complained Erica, from up the hill.

The snowmobiler, under the log, instead of struggling like Benny, returned to his lifeless, motionless state.

"I think so" said Sarah. "It's too bad we have to leave the poor guy."

"When Stephanie's gone, a search party will find him" said Ethan, sympathetically.

"They'll probably think he died in a accident" said Rory, as he looked at the log.

"It'll be better that way" said Sarah.

Ethan put his arm around her (he felt sorry himself, it had been awhile since he saw someone murdered by evil forces). Along with Rory, they climbed up to the rail-bed, again.

They joined Erica in looking down at Benny, still calling for brains.

"You can give him the snowmobilers brains" said Erica.

"No way" said Rory. "Benny'll kill us if he finds out we've let him eat human brains. Way worse than gulping down human blood."

"You know as well as I do that vampires don't gulp down human blood" said Erica, offended. "We . . . sucked."

Rory and Ethan looked stunned for a moment. Then the two burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Sarah, a bit reluctantly, joined in.

"I . . . wish Benny had heard that" said Ethan, as he continued to laugh. "You'd never live it down, Erica."

"That's not what I meant" said Erica, irritated at having looked stupid. In front of geeks, no less. "I . . . what's that?"

It took a good deal to frighten Erica. But she was suddenly speechless.

And everyone else . . . was "laugh-less."

The terrible rotting smell that was in the background had suddenly grown all the more pungent. And the mist thickened. In the background was silence. Even Benny's chorus of "brains, brains" had finally stopped.

Near the snowmobile, with a sound like that of a thunderclap, appeared a creature over ten feet tall.

The creature had the antlers of an enormous moose, and its head also resembled the lumbering animal. But it was a moose's skull with skiin pulled tightly over it, like that of the snowmobiler now lying dead. And the moose's snout was dominated by bloody lips covering fang coloured teeth. The body was more akin to that of a starved human with arms ending in claws that put a werewolf's to shame. The feet of the creature were the three pronged hooves that had left the enormouse prints from before.

The Windego gaped silently at its four enemies, from its glowing blood-red eyes.

And, in a move that (even in his fear) was all too familiar to Ethan, the Wendigo looked at Ethan as if it was he above all who was the bane of evil monsters everywhere.

As for the four of them, they had not yet seen anything that compared with this.

Erica screamed. Even Sarah screamed! And Erica screamed a second and third time for good measure.

Rory couldn't help it. He would have yelled a hoarse yell, like a sixteen-year old boy should. But there's a special fear that comes when confronting a ten-foot-plus demon in the northern woods. Humiliatingly, he screamed like a girl and turned red with shame afterwards.

Ethan couldn't help it either. He gave a series of barks and growls that he himself couldn't understand.

It was then that Ethan remembered his water gun. Again, touching the gun brought his mind back into good senses.

"R-Rorster" stammered Ethan, despite his fear. "Quit screaming. We're the only two armed."

Ethan was scared enough that he used Rory's favourite nicknames for himself - something Ethan almost never did.

Rory, still red-faced, didn't think how unusual this was. Rory, simply did as he was told, and pulled his water gun out of his scabbard.

Walking a few quavering steps toward the Wendigo, Ethan and Rory speechlessly gave aim.

With a cry none of them would forget, the demon retreated before the holy water. And wherever the water hit, the demon started to burst into bright red flames. The flames only appeared an instant, before they dissolved into the water.

But as a peripheral shot wasn't enough to destroy a vampire, it wasn't enough to entirely melt or burn the demon away. And aiming at the Windego with a water gun wasn't the same as, say, placing it in a movie theatre under sprinklers spraying out holy water.

Besides, Rory had used much of his ammunition on the snowmobiler. And although Ethan's left the Wendigo a legless entity, he himself was running out.

"We need some more water" said Ethan, in an unsteady voice.

"I'll get my soaker too" said Sarah. "And Erica's."

But as Sarah went to the Challenger, it was already too late.

"What's that?" said Erica.

"It's Benny" said Ethan. "And . . . he's singing?"

"Oh, my feet, my feet of fire! My burning feet of fire!" Benny said, in a weird sing-song voice.

Benny, with a superhuman effort, flung the branch from atop his feet onto the old rail-bed. He scrambled up to where the feet of the Wendigo would have been.

"Hear this, Ethan" said Benny, staring through his black eyes. "And company!"

"And company?" said Rory.

"Rory, what did we say about concentrating!" retorted Ethan impatiently.

"Uh, yeah!" said Rory. "Dude, Benny, get away from there before it claws you!"

"I speak only for the Wendigo! As Algernon Blackwood could have told you, you have stumbled where the Wendigo has chosen to make his abode!" said Benny, in a purposefully mysterious tone. "You know what I mean, Ethan!"

"I know" said Ethan, bitterly. "But Kenora's a few hours away."

"I have been pushed further and further into the wilderness in the past two hundred years" Benny went on. "And made a fugitive in my own domain with the relentless pursuit of civilization. Railroad, the telegraph . . . ."

"The telegraph?" said Erica, emerging from her shock. "Where have you been!"

"Railroads . . . the telegraph . . . the motor car . . . radio . . . cottagers . . . hotels . . . RV's and Winnebagos . . . aeroplanes . . . all reduce my domain and my ability to bring death, disease, hunger and cannibalism on those I touch. But I still have my full powers in my reduced sphere. And you four who have maimed the powers of darkness in your own hometown will pay the price for infiltrating my domain and the witch who had contracted for my powers."

"Contracted for?" said Rory.

"Through Stephanie's deal with the devil, probably" said Sarah, with a grimace.

"I, the Windego, claim Benny Weir as my prize" said Benny. "You may leave my domain or continue to pursue Stephanie and face the brunt of her powers."

"What right do you have to take Benny?" said Ethan forcefully.

In spite of his fear, Ethan, followed by Rory, then Sarah (who had returned with the water guns) bravely . . . or stupidly . . . ran to Benny and the retreating Wendigo .

The Wendigo was bereft of his feet and legs, but with Benny in tow managed to float out of range of the water guns.

"Algenon Blackwood" said Benny once more. "And let me tell you, Werewolf, Leeblaine to you is a fate worse than death!"

And then both Benny and the Wendigo vanished into thin air!

"Who the heck . . . who the frack . . . is Algenon Blackwood!" said Rory angrily, as he looked about for any sign of Benny.

"A hundred years ago, Blackwood wrote a novel called The Wendigo" said Ethan, in a defeated tone. "In the story, two hunters take a guide and go on an expedition north of Rat Portage."

Ethan pinched his nose. He could barely stop himself from compulsively sniffing the air about him.

"I know that name, Rat Portage" said Rory.

"You would" said Erica.

"Nuh-uh!" said Rory. "It has nothing with me eating rats as a bloodsucker!"

"It's from when we went to the Hockey Hall of Fame" Ethan said wistfully, turning to Sarah. "Benny, Rory and me, we joked about Rat Portage. About the time the novel was written, years before there was an NHL, there was a hockey team called the Rat Portage Thistles that twice challenged Ottawa for the Stanley Cup."

"Rat Portage?" said Erica.

"They changed the name to Kenora" said Ethan. "That's when they became the champs. 1907, the Kenora Thistles."

"Kenora's only about four or five hours from here" Sarah said bitterly. "So we're right in Wendigo country."

Ethan put his light sabre and water gun back in his scabbard.

"In Blackwood's novel, the hunting party smells the Wendigo, and the guide is taken by the Wendigo. The last they hear of the guide he's talking about his feet of fire."

"Do they ever get him back?" asked Rory.

"The guide stumbles back into camp" said Ethan miserably. "Just to die right away . . . from hunger and the cold."

There was a minute's silence.

"Instead of standing around like losers" Sarah said. "Let's try to get to Stephanie before it's too late."