Chapter 66: Jim Onteoras — 1985 Totems and Skinwalkers

Jim leaves the library. Outside, the day is fresh and green, but he is unaware. He climbs into the back of his old blue pick-up truck and sits there dazed and motionless. Dust from the road blows across his windshield, exposing lines drawn by an invisible finger of roses and silhouettes of flying birds.

Jim shakes his head, trying to wipe mind clear of vision and memory, trying to forget an unseen voice, a vanquished people and a vanished love. He turns on his rusty wipers, blurring the images but not recollection. He begins to drive slowly homeward.

He parks his pick-up and wanders to the barn. Half-finished coyotes, wingless crows and legless wolves lie on the work bench right where Jim has left them.