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THE DWELLER IN BIG MISTY
Page 2 (conclusion)
Most of the people of the village were gathered in an open-air longhouse. Pete walked over to the gathering and stood next to a woman, who did not seem to be aware of him. Like the other women, she wore a full, ankle-length skirt, a full blouse with long sleeves, and a cape around her shoulders. Her clothing was banded with bright colors, and the cloth was heavily beaded.
There was a trial of some kind going on, and Pete could somehow observe the proceedings while he remained unseen. He could also understand what they were saying, even though they were speaking in the Seminole tongue. He saw that the trial was coming to an end, and the chief was passing judgment on the accused.
"Nightwalker, you have used your sorcery to cause the death of Beartooth. Before he died, Beartooth told of how he had learned of your plot to kill me--merely because I opposed your advances on my granddaughter. I live only because your able apprentice, Redhawk, countered your spell to kill me. Redhawk shall be rewarded by replacing you as head shaman of my tribe.
"You, Nightwalker, shall be banished from the tribe and left to wander in the great forest. Your bones shall not rest in our sacred burial ground. Your spirit must dwell in the great forest forever."
Nightwalker stood and raised both arms. "You have passed judgment on me--now hear my curse." He pointed to one of the men standing with the chief, whom Pete recognized as the man who led him out of the swamp.
"Redhawk, you have learned well," said Nightwalker. "Your medicine has become equal to mine, and so I cannot bring harm to you, nor to those under your protection. But I curse your descendants. So long as my spirit wanders the forest, I shall not permit those of your blood to enter there. Fishing and hunting in the forest will be denied to them. Should any of your blood enter my domain, I will become Oloka, The Dreadful One. I will destroy them. They will know fear and terror, and they will die a horrible death."
Abruptly, the light faded to darkness, and the forest reappeared. The village and all its inhabitants vanished. All, that is except his guide, whom he now knew as Redhawk. Redhawk stood facing him.
"How...I mean...what was that about?" Pete stammered.
"I know you have many questions'" Redhawk said, "but I have too little time. Please listen carefully to what I have to say, for when I go, I cannot return.
"You are my descendant. Your grandfather was my grandson. Because you are of my blood, you are in great danger. The spirit of Nightwalker has already sensed your presence in the forest, and he has become Oloka.
"Oloka is a werebeast. It takes form and becomes one with a spirit when it is summoned. It has become one with the spirit of Nightwalker. Oloka is strong and powerful, but its weapon is fear. It draws its strength from its victim's fear, and therefore must terrorize its victim before it kills. It sends fear into the heart of its victim, and when its victim is frozen with fear it attacks. The murdered hunter you saw had time to use his weapons, but was too numb with fear to fight.
"Oloka searches for you now, and it will find you. But you can defeat it if you do not allow fear to take hold. If you kill it, you will nullify the curse of Nightwalker forever. But remember--if you allow fear to take hold you will no longer be able to resist it. Be prepared for an onslaught of fear, and fight it with all the will you can muster. Remember what I have told you. Farewell, my time is gone."
With that, Redhawk vanished.
Pete was now alone. What would he do now? Should he wait here or move on? Redhawk had said that Oloka was coming closer, so maybe it would be wise to move on. But to where? Maybe he would walk right into Oloka's hands. He decided to stay put.
It was a cloudless sky, and the moon was bright. The forest here was fairly thin, and enough moonlight filtered through the trees so that he could see his surroundings fairly well. At least nothing could sneak up on him--if he remained alert.
With darkness, the mosquitoes came out. He heard the whine of a mosquito near his ear and felt a bite on his arm. He pulled a small container of repellant from his pocket and smeared it on the exposed parts of his body. He pocketed the repellant, and his hand went for the .38 on his hip. He felt reassured as his hand grasped the handle of the weapon.
But it dawned on him that the beast had paralyzed an armed man with fear and then killed him. It had also killed the wild pig and a powerful bear. What good would his little .38 be against such a creature? He began to feel vulnerable, and once again he was fighting panic.
He was already overcome with fear, and Oloka had not even found him yet. How could he, a teenaged city boy, possibly resist this thing that used fear as a weapon? He began to tremble and broke out in a cold sweat. Maybe the thing had already found him. Maybe it was hiding in the shadows and watching him.
His eyes searched the surrounding woods, but he saw no signs of a stalker. He forced himself to calm down, and gradually the panic subsided. He decided that it was time to start thinking of a way to resist this creature.
He heard somewhere that humor was the best way to overcome fear. But what would he do--tell himself jokes? Or maybe he could think of his favorite sitcom on TV. He discarded the idea as ridiculous; he would have to think of something else.
Suddenly, he heard noises in the surrounding woods. He looked around, but the open moonlit areas in the woods revealed nothing. Maybe it was an animal, but it was sure making a lot of noise. And then the noise stopped abruptly. After a moment of dead silence, he heard a loud crashing sound behind him and spun around. He was facing Oloka.
It was about twenty feet from him. It was a huge, scaly thing. Its shape was vaguely human and its face was frog-like. It displayed sharp teeth as it snarled at him, and its eyes seemed to bore through him.
He felt the icy probes of fear thrusting into his mind. But unlike the hunter, he'd been forewarned and knew what to expect. He tried to focus his mind on resisting, but almost immediately he felt his resistance begin to crumble. The creature was winning.
He sensed that the creature was toying with him, enjoying his feeble effort of resistance. It came closer; it was almost within an arm's length. It could reach out and touch him now, but according to Redhawk, it must immobilize its victim with fear before it attacked. But Pete knew that he was already near total immobilization--even now his hands were unable to raise and fire the .38.
Desperately, he searched his mind for a way to resist. He remembered humor, and oddly, one of his favorite fantasies came to mind: dreaming up ways to embarrass Mr. McNulty. McNulty was his next door neighbor, an ill-tempered old man who blamed Pete for everything bad that happened in the neighborhood.
Pete looked at the hideous face of Oloka and imagined it was the face of the cantankerous old man. He pictured himself holding a custard cream pie, ready to smash it into the old geezer's face. He could picture the surprise on old McNulty's face as the pie slammed into his sour puss.
The whole thing was so absurd that he giggled, nervously at first, and then exploded with half-hysterical, half-hilarious laughter. The icy probes of fear stopped, and the creature appeared confused.
Pete raised his hand, but it did not hold a custard cream pie. He fired several shots pointblank into the creature's face. It staggered back a few steps and fell. The beast struggled to its feet and faced him. Pete once again felt the icy probes of fear, but emptied the .38 into the creature's face before the creature could freeze him into inaction.
Once again the creature fell, and once again it struggled to regain its feet--but this time it failed. Its huge body quivered, and then it grew still. Pete watched as the prone creature transformed into the image of Nightwalker. The image of Nightwalker became a shapeless mist, and then vanished.
It was almost daylight now, and Pete set out to find his way out of the woods. His sense of direction, always poor, had inexplicably grown much sharper. He suspected that Redhawk was somehow responsible. He found the creek and followed it to the fallen log where he and Jodie crossed the stream.
He made his way to the campsite to find Jodie waiting there. He told Jodie of his night in the swamp, but omitted the part about Redhawk and Oloka.
Jodie explained that he, too, had found the body of the hunter. He figured that a wounded bear had killed the man. Right after finding the body, he heard a noise in the swamp. He climbed a tree in case it was the bear returning.
"When I started to climb down from the tree a limb broke and I fell. I must have took a good lick on the head 'cause I was out a good while. By the time I made it back to the campsite it was nearly dark. I waited 'til daylight, and I was gettin' ready to head back and organize a search party when you showed up."
"I'm just glad I found my way back," said Pete. "I guess I was lucky."
"Maybe the Seminole in you finally came out, ol' buddy."
"Could be you're right," said Pete.
***THE END***
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