Greed, Myth and Desert

Greed, Myth and Desert(Rae) I didn’t have the best childhood. My father had been a lonely man, and it would often be just me, him and his friend Edward, through most of my upbringing. His friend Edward had found success with his deep roots in the oil industry, and acquired a chain of gas stations over Texas, after the death of his father. He was the one who employed my father, and although he won’t admit, I know he was the one who overworked him to death. Even though I must stay with him now, that bastard knows he only keeps me sheltered through my father’s dying wish. Often comparing my incompetence at the work place to my father, this man had lost any ounce of respect he had for anyone after acquiring such wealth.

“Jim, we’ve got land to claim, NOW.” Looks like no breakfast again, I heard his bellow from the room across and got out of bed in an instant, entering the back of his prized black Rolls Royce. The silver streams of rain bounced back from the glass I peered out of, it was beautiful sight, seeing the desert landscape get its rare rainfall. My attempts to catch up on lost sleep were cut short by the sharp braking of the vehicle when we had arrived at our destination.

“Don’t expect to be here tomorrow.” he muttered to the new adolescent driver, obviously unimpressed by his driving.
“Sir, there was a creature on the…” Nodding towards the now barren road, he was interrupted by Sir John’s harsh words.
“Save the bullshit for the Indians.” He chuckled loudly to himself, slapping me hard on the shoulder, prompting me to laugh. As transparent as my act was, the truth was, I too saw something peculiar. A faint fuzz of light flashing across the road at astonishing speeds. As if trying to avoid every last raindrop.
“You think I’m paying you to dilly dally?” He asked with his chubby, pale face in front of mine. His white, waxed moustache almost pointed sharp enough to cut me, as he turned furiously towards the man standing in his path. I stepped out the car to accompany him as he spoke with the man of Native origin. He stood before a cream, rocky mess of clay and rock, what I could only assume to be some sort of burial site, or a place close to the man’s history. He strode forward with commitment in his eyes. Pointing as if scolding a child, he said –
“You cannot do this Edward, this is sacred ground…”
“That’s Sir John to you, Chief.” I recognised the man, Chief, was a good friend of my late father, they worked on an institute to teach children about the Natives together. Hence I didn’t appreciate Sir John’s hostility towards him. The adamant, tanned man gave me a hopeful glance, before casting his finger out towards me.
“This boy’s father promised me you wouldn’t touch this site ever again, it holds many memories we use to educate townsfolk of our ancestors.”
“This Boy’s father is dead now, and so are your ancestors, last time I checked, you have no legal attachment to these ruins either,” he paused softly, like a comedian about to deliver the punchline “and oh that’s right, I do!”

I tried my best to resist the urge to shout back at the big, blubbering ball of meat that spoke all this garbage, but I couldn’t hold it back. I was about to snap, then suddenly, my attempted shout was overshadowed by the industrial clank of machinery that grew behind me.

“And unless you want to join them Chief, I sincerely request you move out of the way.” He said giving a hand signal to the man behind the ruins, who mounted a huge beast of a vehicle. A menacing yellow steamroller treaded slowly towards the site, taking small, destructive, cyclical steps towards the site. Crushing the small clumps of rocks that lay before it, as if they were never there, before it even arrived at the scene. Perhaps to show Sir John’s overwhelming upper hand in this situation. Helpless, I saw the behemoth progress to the site itself and reduce the ruins and remains of history to nothing more than desert sand and rubble. Carried by the ominous wind, it blew past the Chiefs face, who proceeded to clutch it in his hands, raising it to his dry, brown face. The mass of dirt was dampened by the tears that rolled down his eyes, disguised in the rain. It was too late now. The Chief also knew this. The Chief’s face of sorrow remoulded into one of pure wrath and hatred. His eyes pierced the thick atmosphere and saw through the sandy air, to meet the eyes of Sir John, who grabbed me by the arm and threw me into the car.

“We’ve got work to do Jim.” He was scared, I could smell it, I’ve never seen the man so petrified, it was some consolation to me after the remark he uttered about my father, but I myself felt uneasy. As the car drove away from the newly acquired land, I could’ve sworn I saw that same silvery fuzz of light behind us. It was enough to make me ponder what it was, but I pardoned it as a bird trying to escape the rain that was now dying down.

About 40 minutes later we arrived at the gas station, I took up my usual station at the counter of the store, and tried to forget about this morning. Sir John strutted in through the doors in his lavish white suite and hat, often boasting about the purity of his clothes. Occasionally bragging about his gold plated spurs, which he used to do nothing, and studded silver belt buckle, which also did nothing around the circumference of his belly.

“I don’t pay you to day dream, look presentable, and if anyone asks for me, I’m in the back.” He seemed to be back to his usual self fast, only such a self-centred man could easily forget the effect of his action on others. Oh well, I thought, missing the rain that had made the day more gorgeous than it usually was around these parts.

I jumped up after I heard the ringer on the door, notifying me a customer had just entered. As usual, it was just Dr Stevens, coming to pay for his fuel from outside. We went through the usual greetings. But before he left, he said how he'd seen a car crash behind because of an animal or something on the road.

Could it be that thing in the rain from before? No, there is no way it was something out of the ordinary, I’m sure there is a much more rational explanation for it all. I mean, animals and road accidents aren’t exactly rare, and my visibility could have easily been influenced by the rainfall.
I tried to shrug it off, but Dr Steven’s words really struck me, and stayed with me for the rest of that day.

THERE! Again I saw that flash! I knew it! Right outside the door, I could only make out its head!
“Where’s the bosssss?” it called. In a moment of relief and somewhat odd disappointment, I deduced ‘It’ was just the Chief. I could recognise that feathered head ornament from a mile away. This dismissed all of my suspicions, and I thought to myself again, it must be all the sleep I’m missing. I put my head in my hands in relief that it was just the Chief, proceeding to rub my eyes gently.
“He’s in the back Chief” I replied, sighing with a mix of emotions.
“Thankssss” he whispered in a raspy voice, as he treaded awkwardly around the store and went to the back office.
How could I be so dumb? Of course it was nothing.

The next 10 minutes were pretty uneventful, as I wondered quietly to myself if the Chief was alright, and that he probably just came to shout at the Boss and ask for compensation or whatever. It’s true he was close to my father, but it was not in my duty to step between the businesses of two adults, my father himself taught me that much. All I could do was pray silently that the Chief finds justice after such a cruel act from Sir John.

Then to my surprise, the Chief entered the store from the front door, he grabbed a packet of chocolates like he usually did for his children and placed them on the counter. Being a person who’s terrible at over the counter conversations, I asked,
“So how’d it go with the boss?” he shrugged back at me as if to ask what I was talking about, puzzled. I tried to ask again.
“You know, about him and the land this morning?”
“Still not one for small talk are you Jim?” he got me there, but I’m sure in the ten minutes that had passed after I directed him to the boss, he would remember. My thoughts were interrupted by an even more puzzling statement – “We both know the boss wouldn’t dare lay a hand on the land that your father promised he’d keep safe for us,” he paused and raised his brows “especially while I was away..”
Away? That’s right, how could I forget? Chief was visiting schools as a part of an institute to educate children on the Natives and mythology. It completely slipped my mind.
Then who was at the ruins this morning? I needed to know. My voice trembled a little as I asked the next few questions.
“You…just got back from there?” I began to sweat, awaiting the response.
“Yeah, would’ve been here faster if the kids didn’t keep asking about the Wendigo.” His tone changed slightly to a whisper.
“You mean the monster the Indians believed in?” I asked, watching the Chief pace towards the door and leave the store. “The one that hates the rainfall?” I persisted, sounding desperate to know.
“Oh yeah, they hate the rain, but personally I like to think of them as protectors of our people.” He said proudly as he continued “we believe them to be the spirits of the deceased, destined to a duty, and those with this duty are granted with great ability.” Intrigued, yet uneasy, I advanced the conversation with another question –
“Abilities? Like what?”
“Well Jim, that’s for another story, but do you want to know the most amazing trait they have?” He paced slowly over to the shop door, opening it halfway and putting one of his dry, sandaled feet out.
“What?” I asked sensing the abnormality of the situation, and dreading the answer.
“Why don’t you ask your father?” He shouted as he stepped outside the door and pointed behind me. Confused and somewhat angry, I spun slowly on the spot, facing the wall.
*BANG*
From which a big bulge of meat broke through, clad in a pure white suit. The now limp body of Sir John smashed the wall that joined the back office to the counter area of the store. It slid on the cold, tiled floor, leaving a crimson streak of entrails and blood behind it, masking the clear white floor and the purity of the garb it was once so proud of, in a layer of pure red liquid. I watched him writhe in agony for his final moments before settling in the opposite corner of the store, screaming, incoherent and deafening.

I looked back to get a glimpse of the monster that could have propelled him with such force, and I met a familiar face. Chief? No it couldn’t be, chief ran out the store only moments ago. It was a demon in his form, representing the copy perfectly apart from its unproportioned claw where a hand should’ve been. It spoke with an eminent hiss in its speech –
“The mossst fasssscinating trait of the Wendigo? Its ability to Ssssshape Ssshift…” it whispered in its familiar raspy voice, as its face reconstructed before to an even more intimate one…

Father is that you?

Too traumatised to speak, It all made sense now. What Chief said about a duty and the monster? It was the role of my late father to watch the land, and it was him at the ruins this morning, since Chief was at a trip. That means, I directed this now malevolent spirit to the Boss. was I to blame for his murder? No, this was not the time to think this. All I know is, what stood before me isn’t my father. I doubt it would leave a witness to this event, I needed to find a way out. FAST. It was hopeless, I tried moving my quivering legs but they wouldn’t. I tried make a fist from the courage I had left, but I couldn’t. I wanted to hit the creature, knowing I shouldn’t. The last thing I want to do was provoke it.

I saw the mask it wore of my father’s face, twist to the grin of a hellish demon, as it raised its claws around my head. It loved it, it was feeding on my fear. I was defeated by the paralysing effect its terror had on me, and the state of shock I was stuck in. It was too late now.

The last thing I felt was a familiar set of hands, once used to embrace me… now ripping the flesh from by bones…