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Back The Trickster Save as PDF
Chapters (74)
  1. The Trickster
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. Preface to the 20th anniversary edition
  6. Introduction
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. Keep Reading
  70. FURNACE
  71. Acknowledgements
  72. About the Author
  73. ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
  74. About the Publisher

Sam stood with his legs wide apart, panting uncontrollably, hands gripping the shaft of the shovel like a spear. His tear-filled eyes spilled their load and the salty moisture joined the mucus from his nostrils running into his wet open mouth.

There was perhaps a gap of three or four seconds between Katie opening the kitchen door and the beginning of her scream. But when it started, it shook her body like electricity, her arms waving and flailing at her sides as her mouth made that black oval of noise. She jerked as if shaken from behind, and the piercing intensity of her shrieking deafened him as he stood dumbly over the bloody mess, gripping his weapon.

Had she not been screaming she would have grabbed Billy as he pushed past her and fell to his knees in the gore. But Katie did not have the power in her body to raise a protective blocking arm. Billy knelt in the remains of his dog, the blackened blood seeping up the knees of his pants, and with an unflinching face he looked up at his father. The boy opened his mouth and from the back of his throat a tiny thin wail started that seemed to be unconnected with the calm expression in his eyes. It was the noise of a small creature being tortured. Hopeless, forlorn, unfathomable in its agony. Sam looked from face to face and the coil of rationality in him that was twisted seemingly beyond repair or recognition, snapped.

His big hands let the shovel fall as he turned slowly and walked towards the back door, opening it and feeling the cold air rush at him. Sam walked out into the night, and the kitchen door banged behind him like a pistol.

45

Calvin sat in the window of Rib Experience on Main Street, nursing his seventy-five cents coffee and watching the madness outside. The RCMP had blocked every road out of town, and the line of cars stranded in the snow poured out their exhaust into the freezing snow-filled air like angry animals bellowing to be freed.

The cops had been into the restaurant, asking everyone where they’d been and who they were. Of course they’d been real interested in Calvin, but the guy who interviewed him wouldn’t even remember he’d seen the old Indian by now. He would look in his notebook later and find a page of scribbles that didn’t remotely resemble the words he thought he’d been writing at the time.