Five Days of the Ghost (12 page)

Tuesday Afternoon:
Chiefs' Island

We got to the town docks at about noon. John had his back pack on, Noah was carrying his electronic gear in his bigger pack, and I had three boxes of cigars.

Noah had on his black denim cut-offs and a black T-shirt that had a picture of a plate with knife and fork on either side of it and EAT THE RICH in big white letters on top. John wore long pants and a long-sleeved shirt. He was convinced we'd be attacked by mosquitoes once we got to Chiefs' Island and he wanted to be prepared. I was wearing my track suit again. I was hot, but if we found Chief Copegog it would get cold fast.

We were going to use Noah's uncle's little aluminum fishing boat, but Noah's uncle didn't know that. Noah had come up with the idea. He said the boat could get us to the island in ten minutes.

We left Skinny Minnie all set up in the front yard, sprawled in a lounge, with a pitcher of synthetic juice, a giant bag of cheese twists, two paperback novels, a scandal mag, and John's boom box. Her wiry body glistened with suntan oil. When I told her we were going for a walk she just grunted and turned a page.

“There's the boat, down at the end of the dock,” said Noah.

The little boat bobbed in the waves that rolled against the dock from a passing cabin cruiser. We stepped down into it and Noah hooked up the black gas hose to the motor and squeezed the bulb on the hose. Then he pulled out the choke and yanked on the starter cord. The little motor coughed a little, then started roaring.

John and I untied the ropes and we were on our way.

It was pretty hot out and a lot of boats were on the lake. Kids were water skiing, kicking up rooster tails behind the skis. A few canoes were slipping along. We chugged past the park where old Sammy Dee was perched on his hunk of stone.

When we got to Chiefs' Island we landed at a different spot. John thought we should try to get to shore without anyone seeing us, so we sneaked into a little bay and turned off the motor and waited until things were quiet. Then we got out and waded in to shore. It was harder to pull the boat up than it was to beach our rowboat because of the motor, but it was no big deal.

“Come on, let's go,” I said as soon as we had the boat out of sight in the trees.

“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses,” John answered.” We gotta get our gear.”

He dug the bug dope out of his pack and tossed it to me.

“Better put lots on, Miss Impatience. Bugs'll be thick today.”

While I smeared the dope on, Noah was getting his gear ready. He hung the voice recorder around his neck and switched it on. He mumbled into the recorder while he got the video camera ready.

“Noah, how come you brought that again? It didn't work before.”

He looked at me through the camera lens. “You never know. We got Kenny—or at least his hand—on video. So maybe Chief Copegog can let himself appear if he wants. This is new ground we're breaking here. None of the stuff I've read about the supernatural mentions video.”

“Well, how about the cross? Want me to carry it?”

“Didn't bring it this time.”

“How come?”

“I don't know. I didn't think we'd need it.”

Finally we were ready. “Let's get going,” I said.

“No, wait.” Noah looked embarrassed. “I forgot to put on any mosquito lotion.”

I groaned. Noah took off all his gear and stood there with it piled at his feet as he rubbed on the dope. Then he slung the equipment onto his body again and we started out.

Once we got moving it only took about twenty minutes to get to the graveyard.

It was hot in the clearing. The sun beat down on the gravestones and the long grass was dry and wilty. The leaves on the birches hung down, tired-looking. There was no breeze.

Chief Copegog was nowhere to be seen.

I heard John swear under his breath, so I knew he was as disappointed as I was. He let his pack slip off his back onto the ground and leaned on the gravestone with the new letters carved into it.

“You think it's too early?” he said. “I mean, maybe he doesn't like the bright sun.”

“Search me,” said Noah. “I got an idea, though. Karen, toss me one of those cigars.” He handed the camera to John. John started photographing everything. And I mean everything—the sky, his feet, everything.

I did what Noah asked. He pulled the thin red tape on the top of the box and stripped off the cellophane. He stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans. He opened the box and drew out a fat brown cigar. It was wrapped in cellophane, too.

“You know, I got a theory,” he said as he unwrapped the cigar. “In our society we like wrapping better than what comes in it. I mean, look at—”

“Come
on
, Noah, get
on
with it!” I cut in.

“Okay, okay,” he said, lighting the cigar.

His face screwed up as he puffed a few times. The foul-smelling smoke rolled out of his mouth and sort of floated around us. The sunlight seemed to light it up, a blue-grey layer. it looked pretty and smelled terrible. We waited for a few minutes, looking around, peering into the quiet forest. We saw nothing and heard only birds.

“Where's the wind when we need it?” John said.

“I guess this isn't our day,” Noah sighed. “Let's put the gear away, John. Might as well save the batteries.”

Noah put the cigar down on the gravestone and shrugged off his pack. While he and John put the gear into the pack I picked up the cigar and put the end in my mouth. I puffed hard. A horrible, bitter taste filled my mouth as the blue-grey smoke floated around my head and I started to cough like crazy. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I felt dizzy.

“Figured it was you kids.”

I don't know what surprised me more—the rough, faraway voice—I knew right away whose it was—or the sudden cold. I mean, it was
instant
.

I waved the smoke away, trying to see. Sure enough, Chief Copegog was standing behind John and Noah.

He had on the same skin pants and vest, and his medicine bag dangled from his waist. His fierce eyes seemed to bore right through me, but he was smiling, his eyes almost closed. I wasn't scared.

“I—we—were afraid you wouldn't be here,” I said.

“Here all the time,” he answered. “Never wander far from this place.”

“What did you say, Karen?” John said.

“Hey! It's cold,” Noah said excitedly. “Feel it? He must be close.”

Noah and John began to look around. John turned on the camera and panned back and forth.

“Did you smell the cigar smoke?” I asked.

“Yep. Knew you were here anyway, though.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess you did.”

“Karen, what are you
talking
about?” John sounded scared. He lowered the camera.

I shifted my eyes to the boys. John was staring at me with his mouth open and Noah kept looking back and forth between John and me, looking really confused.

“Can you let them see you?” I asked him.

“Don't really want to talk to them.”

“Please,” I said. “John's my brother and Noah's my friend.”

“Noah, we gotta get her out of here. I think she's flipped her lid. I knew we shouldn't have—”

“Wait. There's something weird going on, man. Can't you feel the cold?”

“Yeah, I can. Sure I can,” John answered. “But—”

“I think he's here.” Noah interrupted. Then to me he said, “Karen, can you see him?”

“He's here, Noah.”

“You still got lots troubles, don't you girl?” said the Chief. He walked between the boys and came up to me and held out his hand. The palm was creased and wrinkled like tough leather. I knew what he wanted. I gave him the cigar. He took a long, deep drag and the smoke poured from his nostrils.

“You kids, you're pretty kind,” he said as he hiked himself up onto the gravestone. “Yep, you're good kids.”

“He's
where
?” John cried out. Then, “I see him!”

“Me, too!” said Noah. “Hi, Chief Copegog.”

The Chief nodded to the boys and took another puff.

“Um,” Noah began, “how come you didn't appear to all of us at once?”

The Chief shrugged and looked off into the trees. I was afraid when he did that. Every other time he'd done that he'd disappeared. I figured I'd better get down to why I had come.

“Chief Copegog,” I began, and my voice creaked. I cleared my throat and started again. “Chief Copegog, I came here to talk to you about something that's very important and you're the only one who can help me.”

“Yep, you got troubles all right. Too many troubles for little girl like you.”

I had a thought. “Did you … before … did you have any kids?”

He took the cigar out of his mouth and some of the fierce spookiness disappeared from his eyes.

“Had lots of kids,” he said in a low voice. “All gone now.”

“Where?” I said. “Where did they go?”

“Karen,” John broke in, “that's a stupid quest—”

I shushed him. I could hear Noah rustling around in his pack as I said, “Can you tell me?”

Chief Copegog looked at me. I could see the sadness in his face, like last time. I imagined him as a grandpa sitting beside a fire, surrounded by five or six fat little kids shrieking and playing.

“Was my fault,” he said so low I could hardly hear him. “That's why I got to pay.”

“How? Pay for what?”

“I got to lead the spirits from our territory to the Other Side. But me, I can't go that place. I got to keep doin' this until I paid.”

The cigar between his thick fingers burned forgotten as he stared into the trees. It was like he could see something out there. What did he mean? I thought. I couldn't fit it together and I was afraid to ask too much in case he left us again. I decided I had to try, though.

“Did you … did you have a daughter like me?”

He shifted his gaze from the trees to my face and coughed. His voice was thick when he answered.

“Had lots of kids,” he said again. “Two kids like you, ‘bout your age, maybe little younger. Girl and a boy. Born same time, same minute almost. Looked same. Them kids, they was my favourites. Special to the spirits, see? Because they was born same minute. Can't see them now, ‘cause I can't go the Other Side.”

Twins! Chief Copegog had had twin kids!

Behind me I heard John whisper, “Karen, ask him—”

“Please tell me some more,” I said softly. He looked into my eyes and seemed to make a decision. He hopped off the gravestone and for a second, panic hit me. I thought he was going to leave. But he just lowered himself to the ground, leaning back on the gravestone, and sat in its shadow with his legs crossed.

I sat down in front of him on the fresh earth, the same way. John sat on my right and Noah moved around and sat on my left. We formed a half circle in front of him with the gravestone behind. It was still very cold, but I noticed it wasn't as bad as before. It didn't seem to go
into
me.

When Chief Copegog began to talk his voice changed. Now it was softer, like wind in long grass. And there was a sort of rhythm to it, halfway between speaking and chanting.

“When my brother went to Other Side I became Chief. We lived all ‘round here, could go where we wanted, not like my peoples now. Had lotta problems, them days. Game and fish disappearing. Whites coming in more and more. Had to decide. Stay and live with Whites or go back north, northwest into the land where Whites didn't go so much.

“Lotta Elders wanted to go back. I thought, okay, be good for coupla years, then same problem. Some day we got to stop runnin'.

“So one time, I went to that place, York, to take good look at the White world. Travelled southeast long way by water until the big lake, then west. Terrible place, that York. Could smell it day before I finally got there. Full of ugly wood buildings—tall too. Big iron boats with black smoke comin' out, wagons with them big ugly horse animals, mud and smoke. People runnin' ‘round. Not goin' anywhere.”

Chief Copegog paused and puffed his cigar. It had gone out while he talked. Noah quickly struck a match and leaned forward to hold the flame to the end of the cigar.

It looked so strange—an old man wearing skin clothes and a headband and a medicine bag, having his cigar lit by a kid with worn cut-offs and a T-shirt, with the sides of his head buzzed and a cross dangling from his ear. Then it hit me. What was the big difference? I knew that Chippewa men used to decorate themselves and put stuff in their hair. John had lectured to me about all that enough times. Kids I knew did all that too. The decorations were different now, that was all.

The Chief smiled sadly at Noah and took a long drag on the cigar. Beside me, John began to whisper.

“York, that's what Toronto was called back then, Karen.” Then a strange look came over his face. He gulped and said, “And I think around that time the cholera—”

“I knew then when I saw that ugly place,” Chief Copegog went on, “no one could stop them Whites. Thought about it all the way back home. My mind, she was split in two. Hated that ugly York, but it showed me we couldn't stop them Whites. Decided I would try to get the Elders to go along with me. We had to stay and try to live with the Whites. Maybe we didn't hafta go the White men's way, but we had to live with ‘em.

“So we moved from this place to Narrows. Built some wood lodges like Whites had, built a school, a church.

“Trouble was, that sickness came. Many of the peoples was sick and many others went away into the hills north to get away from the sickness. All my family but me had the sickness.

“Lotta peoples died that time.” He stopped talking and stared into the trees. I realized then that when he looked away like that he was looking into the past, seeing all his kids and his wife sick, lying on beds in strange houses, close to death.