Supernatural Fresh Meat - By Alice Henderson Page 0,21
to be over the Oregon border by tomorrow morning.”
Bobby shook hands with Sam and Dean, then with Jason. It was always hard to say goodbye. For as long as Sam could remember, Bobby had pretty much been their second father, and in some ways a more attendant father than John had been. They all said goodbye to Jason, who waved at the door of the bar and went out to his truck.
Before he left, Bobby told them about a possible rakshasa in Utah that warranted checking out.
After they finished their drinks and ate, Sam and Dean headed out, too. While Dean slept in the passenger seat, Sam drove eastward across Nevada. The sun rose ahead of him, bathing the green and brown landscape in gold. Sharp mountain ridges rose in the distance. On all sides of him, there were no signs of civilization except the road. He passed another car only occasionally.
They slept over on the Utah/Nevada border in a classy little joint decorated with fishing regalia. Where the heck people fished in this thirsty country, Sam had no idea.
The next day they continued into Utah, Dean still sleeping most of the time in the passenger seat after his brush with blood loss.
Sam’s cell phone jangled in his jacket pocket. He fished it out. “Yes?”
“It’s Bobby.”
“What’s up?”
“You boys see the morning news?”
“No, we pretty much just left our motel.”
“There’s been another disappearance in the Tahoe National Forest.”
“What?”
“Deer hunter kissed his wife goodbye at five a.m. yesterday to meet his friends at a hunting camp in the forest. He never arrived. His buddies found a pool of blood and their friend’s rifle. Said they heard something fast, up in the trees.”
“You’re kidding me!”
“Nope.”
“That’s after we wasted the wendigo. Think there’s a second one?”
“Must be,” Bobby said. “Maybe another Donner Party survivor.”
“How could we have missed that?”
“I don’t know. We were a little distracted, what with Dean on the edge of passing into oblivion.”
“Good point.”
Dean stirred, yawned, and straightened up. “What’s up?”
“There was another killing in the Tahoe National Forest this morning.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope.”
To Bobby Sam said, “We’ve got to get back there.”
“Already on my way.”
“We’re turning around now.”
Sam slowed and pulled a U-turn on the highway.
ELEVEN
The Winchesters made fast time, arriving in Truckee in the late afternoon. Bobby was waiting at the Java Joint Cafe, an old 1930s diner. He’d arrived in town earlier and posed as an F.B.I. agent to get access to the police reports.
Sam and Dean slid into the booth opposite him. Bobby was eating the biggest chicken pot pie Sam had ever seen. He slid a topographic map over to them.
“I’ve marked the spot where the hunters found their friend’s rifle and the pool of blood,” he said in a quiet voice.
The waitress came over, all cheer. “Anything to drink?”
They placed their orders and Bobby continued when she left. “I say we hike out near this spot, stake it out. Something doesn’t feel right to me. My gut’s got more to say than the town gossip at a church bingo night.”
Dean slid the map over to Sam. He studied it for a few minutes. “This area isn’t far from the Donner Lake camp where the emigrants over-wintered. You really think it’s another wendigo?”
“It would be odd,” Bobby said, “them being so close. From everything I’ve read, wendigos are solitary.”
“Should we call Jason?” Sam asked.
Bobby shook his head. “You saw that guy limping. He was this close to collapsing the whole time we were out.”
Dean nodded. “Dude needs time to recover.”
Sam eyed him. “You’re not doing so hot, either.”
“A little pale’s a lot different from broken ribs and a messed up leg.” Dean regarded his brother with waning patience.
“A little pale? Dean, you almost died.”
“I’m fine.” He brushed off Sam’s concern, shifting his weight in the seat and staring out the far window.
“When you boys are done holding each other’s hand, we need to find out some more information. You got your suits?”
Sam nodded. They had the customary black suits and ties tucked away in the car’s trunk.
“Head over to Fish and Game and see if any other big puddles of blood have turned up in the last year or so. Maybe we can figure out where this thing hangs out.”
“Maybe the wendigos were related in life, and that’s why they occupy the same territory,” Sam suggested, thinking about the Donner Party.
“What do you mean?” Dean asked.
“Well, maybe they were part of the same family, people who stuck together through the whole Donner Party ordeal.”