Graham Masterton - The Manitou

" I know, " he said. "There was something very important which the Dutch settlers had which the Indians didn't Something which threatened the Indians, and which they had never come across before, and couldn't fight."

"What was that?"

" Disease, " said Jack Hughes. "The Dutchmen brought all kinds of viruses that were unknown on the North American continent. Especially influenza viruses. Whole tribes were wiped out by European diseases, because they had no antibodies, and couldn't resist even the simplest colds and flu. And the medicine men couldn't help them, because they had no sorcery which could work against something they knew nothing at all about. Invisible, deadly, and quick. If you ask me, that's what Misquamacus was afraid of. The Dutch were destroying his tribe with a medicine he couldn't see or understand."

Singing Rock looked excited. "That's inspired, Dr. Hughes. That is really inspired."

"One thing, though," I interjected. "Surely Misquamacus would now be immune to influenza? If he's been born in anything like the way a normal baby is born, he would have gotten antibodies from Karen Tandy's bloodstream."

"No, I don't think so," said Dr. Hughes. "His nervous system was intertwined with Karen's, but their bloodstreams weren't connected in the same way that a fetus is connected to its mother. The energy he was drawing from her was electrical energy from her brain cells and spinal system. There was no actual intermingling in the usual physical sense."

"That means," said Singing Rock, "that we could give our medicine man a dose of the grippe. Or threaten to."

"Certainly," said Dr. Hughes. "Hold on just a moment."

He went to the wall telephone and dialed quickly.

"Put me through to Dr. Winsome," he said, when the switchboard answered.

Singing Rock took a look at the silent shape of Misquamacus, hunched and sinister on the floor of Karen Tandy's blood-smeared room. Somehow the thought of giving this creature the influenza didn't seem like a very effective answer. But, apart from Singing Rock's sorcery, we didn't have very much else to turn to.

"Dr. Winsome?" said Jack Hughes. "Look, I'm sorry to wake you up, but I have an urgent problem here, and I badly need some virus samples."

There was a pause while Dr. Hughes listened to the tinny voice on the other end of the phone.

"Yes, I know it's four o'clock in the morning, Dr. Winsome, but I wouldn't have called you if it hadn't been desperate. That's right. I need influenza virus. Well, how soon can you get down here?"

He listened some more, and then hung up the phone.

"Dr. Winsome is coming right away. He has enough influenza virus in his laboratory to bring down the whole population of Cleveland, Ohio."

"Maybe he ought to try it sometime," said Singing Rock, with unexpected humor.

It was now four-oh-five, and Misquamacus hadn't stirred. All four of us stayed in the corridor, keeping a close watch on his dark, troll-like body, although we were all exhausted by now, and the stench of Michael's corpse was almost overpowering.

"What's it like outside?" I asked Dr. Hughes.

"Cold. Snowing again," he told me. "I hope Dr. Winsome doesn't have any trouble getting here."

Another half hour passed. It would soon be dawn. We sat huddled on our chairs, wearily rubbing our eyes and smoking to keep ourselves awake. Only sheer nervous tension kept me from nodding off. I hadn't slept since Sunday night, and then I had only had four or five hours.

At four-forty-five, we heard a rustling noise from inside Karen Tandy's room. We looked up quickly. Misquamacus still had his eyes closed, but he appeared to be stirring. Singing Rock got to his feet and picked up his bones and powders.

"I think he's waking" he said. There was a shake in his voice. This time, he knew that the ancient wonder-worker would have almost all his sorcerer's powers restored. He stepped softly into Karen Tandy's room, and we followed him, and stood behind him to give him support.

Slowly, Misquamacus stretched his hard muscular arms, scarred with magical patterns. He raised his head, with his eyes still shut, so that it was facing directly at us.

"Is he awake?" whispered Jack Hughes.

"I don't know," said Singing Rock. "But he will be soon."

Suddenly, we heard a breathy noise from the bed. The blue-white lips of Karen Tandy's body seemed to be moving, and air was hissing in and out of them.

"She's still alive, " said Wolf.

"No," said Singing Rock. "Misquamacus is doing that. I think he's going to speak to us through her, like he did before. He's using her like a microphone, so that he can talk to us in our own language."

"But that's impossible, " protested Jack Hughes. "He's nowhere near her."

"It might be scientifically impossible," said Singing Rock quietly. "But this is not science. This is Indian magic."

We stood stock-still as deeper breaths began to hiss and gurgle from Karen Tandy's throat. Then she began to whisper to us, in a faint hollow voice that froze every nerve in my body.

"You — have — tried — to — defy — me — hisssss," breathed the voice. "You — have — hurt — me — and — I am — feeling — great — pain. I — intend — to — punish — you — for — that — sssssssss."

Her dead lungs collapsed, and her lips stopped quivering. We turned back to look at Misquamacus himself. His yellowy eyes suddenly opened, and stared at us with glittering malevolence. The same smile that had tightened his face when he appeared on the cherrywood table crossed his expression now.

Singing Rock started his incantations, and tapped his bones in a soft, knocking rhythm. But we could tell that his sorcery was nothing compared to that of Misquamacus, because the neon lights in the room began to flicker and fade, and within a few seconds we were plunged into complete darkness.

I stretched my arms out, trying to take a friendly hand, but I couldn't seem to reach anyone. I was terrified in case I touched the still-slimy face of Misquamacus.

"Don't move," hissed Singing Rock, with fright in his voice. "Don't anybody move."

But somebody or something was moving in the room, and it was shuffling toward us with a slow, irresistible gait.

Wolf struck his cigarette lighter, and turned the gas up full, and the tall yellow flame lit the room in a carousel of hideous shadows.

Misquamacus, with an animal grin on his glistening face, was still crouched within the medicine circle, but just in front of him, on the floor, the red and white powders that singing Rock had set down were shifting and sliding apart, like iron filings drawn away by a magnet.

"He's breaking it!" shouted Jack Hughes. "Singing Rock — for God's sake!"

Singing Rock took a step forward and stood right in front of Misquamacus — only a couple of feet away from the deformed medicine man, and with only the rapidly dispersing powders of the medicine circle between them.

He cast more powders at Misquamacus, and drew signs in the air with his bones, but Misquamacus simply twitched and flinched, as though he were batting away midges. From Karen Tandy on the bed, we heard a soft and hideous laugh, dying away in a bellows-like hiss.

The last of the medicine circle slithered away, and now there was nothing between us and the hell-bent Misquamacus. I didn't know whether to stay put or run, but I knew that Singing Rock needed all of us badly, to support his sorcery, and so I stayed where I was, tingling with fear.

The naked Misquamacus raised himself as tall as he could on his stunted legs, and spread his arms wide. Out of his own lips, in a harsh and guttural voice, came a long Indian incantation, repetitive and involved, and then with one bony hand he pointed across the room.