A Superior Death

“How did you guys get here?” A

“Pizza Dave brought us over in the Loon and dropped us off,” Tinker told her. “He was on his way to Thunder Bay on a pizza run.”

Taking an NPS boat forty miles across open water to get pizza: it was a firing offense. A

“He’s promised not to offer Ally cigars,” Tinker assured her. A

Before the first marshmallow had melted off the stick and fallen into the ashes, A

Tinker showed A

Tinker handled the little animal as if it still lived. A

For some reason-maybe the eccentric clothes or the childlike love of ritual magic-A

“That reminds me,” A

“No,” Damien replied and the inflection implied that no one needed to. He and Ally shared a bench at the picnic table. They’d shoved aside all the condiments, and played some gambling game involving pebbles and elbows of dried macaroni. Oscar looked on.

“The Windigo,” Damien intoned.

Mentally, A

“What’s a Windigo?” Ally demanded.

“Shall I tell you a story?” Damien asked the child.

“A scary one,” Ally insisted.

“I’ll tell the scariest kind of all-the true kind,” he promised.

“I don’t know…” Christina began.

“Please,” Ally begged.

Damien waited. Chris sighed. “The Windigo,” Damien began. With proper flourishes and a creditable French accent, he told Algernon Blackwood’s classic tale of the Windigo, the ca

“That was a long time ago,” Damien finished. “Things have changed. There are no more voyageurs, hardly any Indians. But the Windigo is still here, still all around us. Anywhere men hunger for what they ca

Chris applauded. Tinker beamed: she’d heard the story before. Damien told it at evening programs. Ally was transfixed.

Alison’s eyes were a little too round for A

“What happened, Damien?” Ally asked to hear him talk. The name Do

“She was eaten by her husband, Scotty,” Damien explained. “With pickle relish.”

Ally squealed with delight. “Was Scotty a Windigo?”

“Yes.”

Christina said: “Oh for heaven’s sake!”

Tinker crumbled chocolate into a split banana.

Oscar was unmoved.

“I did talk with Scotty,” A

“Scotty said.” Damien pursed his lips. Obviously that carried no weight with him. “And the case of relish?”

“Didn’t ask,” A

“Ah.”

“Roberta Ingles?” Christina sounded mildly alarmed.

“I don’t know her last name,” A

“When did this happen-the disk?” The concern was still on Christina’s face.

“Why?” A

“Because I went bicycling with Bertie Sunday. She was fine then.”

“Bertie is Roberta, Do

“Yes. She told me to say hi if I saw Do

“Oh Jesus,” A

“What is it, A

“De

“They won’t find it,” Damien said and he tapped the Durkee relish jar significantly.

“And Scotty never left the island,” Tinker added.

“Did you…” A

“Some. Scotty’s been kind of short with us ever since he ate Do

“Sort of spiritual indigestion?” A

“He’d been kind of nasty to Damien a time or two. But when we heard he’d gone to Houghton for a few days, we thought it would be safe to go through his garbage for recyclables.”

“You know it’s illegal?” A

“It’s a greater crime to let resources and energy go to waste,” Damien said earnestly and A

“Okay. So you went through his trash and…”

“For recyclables,” Christina reiterated.

“For recyclables. And…”

“We found a flier that had come in on Saturday’s Ranger Three-we know because everybody got one that day. There was a TV di

If it was supposed to be empty, A

“Aunt A

“Right. Did you see Scotty?” A

Tinker and Damien shook their heads.

“He could be hurt or sick. He’s prime heart attack material,” A

“We never thought…” Tinker began and she looked so stricken A

A

“It wouldn’t be that big a loss,” A

In a few minutes Tinker had recovered herself but the picnic was over.

As soon as they’d landed at Amygdaloid, A