Supernatural Fresh Meat - By Alice Henderson Page 0,44
nearby gas station and Sam cleaned his head wound in the bathroom, wiping the blood from his face, neck, and hands as best he could. He removed his blood-splattered jacket. When he looked presentable, he emerged, getting back in the van. She told Bobby to turn down a few side streets and they ended up in front of a beautiful Victorian two-story house. A girl in her early teens sat on a porch swing, reading a book. She looked up as they parked.
“Aunt Marta?” she asked, standing up. “What happened?”
Marta did look bad, covered in soot and sweat. “The Nest caught on fire. But no one was hurt, honey.”
“Oh no! Will they be able to put it out?”
“We’re hoping.”
Her niece rushed to her and hugged her. “I’m so sorry.”
Marta turned to Bobby and Sam. “This is my niece, Aggie.”
Sam shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you. Sam.”
Bobby grinned, shaking her hand, too. “And I’m Bobby.”
“Nice to meet you.” She looked shell-shocked. “Are you sure there’s nothing we can do?”
Marta shook her head. “The fire department’s working on it now. We just have to wait.”
“I’ll get iced tea for everyone,” Aggie offered, and they all entered the house.
When she turned her back and walked away, Marta made a zipping motion across her lips and whispered, “Remember! Nada!”
Sam and Bobby nodded their understanding.
After Sam washed the grime off his face and hands properly with hot water and soap, he walked into the living room, where iced tea in tall, sweating glasses awaited. Aggie sat on the couch, bare feet tucked up under her. She was engrossed once again in the book.
“What are you reading?” Sam asked.
“This book for school. I was kind of dreading it at first, but it’s actually really good. It’s called Fahrenheit 451.”
Sam couldn’t help smiling. “That’s a great book.”
“Yeah, it really is, isn’t it? Kind of creepy, though. It’s supposed to be about some future dystopia, but it kind of feels like this could happen now.”
Bobby and Marta entered the room, and Sam could actually see their skin now all the soot was scrubbed away.
Marta lifted one of the iced-tea glasses and drained half of it in one go. She turned to Aggie. “We’ve got some stuff to do in the art studio. You going to be okay out here?”
Aggie nodded. “Sure.”
Bobby cleared his throat. “Did you see anyone prowling around tonight?”
Marta stomped on his foot, trying to make it look like an accident.
Aggie looked alarmed. “What?”
“It’s just that… the restaurant might have been arson. We want to be careful, that’s all.”
“No, I didn’t see anyone. But now I’m totally freaked out.”
Sam was quick to step in. “It’ll be okay. It might not have been arson at all. Bobby’s just a little paranoid.”
Aggie pursed her lips together. “Okay.”
Marta kissed the top of her head and motioned Sam and Bobby to follow her into the back of the house. At the rear of the property stood an artist’s studio with a locking door. Marta loved to make ceramics in her spare time, when she had any. She invited them into the room. A potter’s wheel stood in one corner, and shelves lined the walls, stacked with vases and saucers. Most hadn’t been glazed yet. Another door led to the back yard.
Sam regarded them appreciatively. “These are good.”
“Thanks. Maybe one day I’ll be able to finish one.” She turned to Bobby as he entered. “Lock the door.”
Against one wall stood a desk, and she moved to it, clearing it off. “We can work here.”
“This is perfect,” Bobby said. “Thanks again.”
“I’ll go get the stuff,” Sam offered, and left through the back door of the studio. As he stepped out into the cool of the night, Sam felt eyes watching him. He didn’t like this. The whole thing didn’t feel right. His gut told him that this was the eye of the storm, and that he had to stay vigilant.
TWENTY-FIVE
Dean started awake, unable to breathe. He panicked, opening his eyes wide, but seeing only white. Jerking upright, he flailed in his sleeping bag. Wet seeped through him. He twisted his arms and legs free and realized he was completely buried under a thick layer of snow. Wiping it from his face, he got his bearings. He was in the clearing where they’d made camp, and a serious storm had moved in. A fresh blanket of powdery snow covered everything. The dim glow of dawn illuminated the east.
Dean looked around for Jason, but didn’t see him. He got up, walking to where