Supernatural Fresh Meat - By Alice Henderson Page 0,6
was fast and deadly, and Dean had to get his head together if he wasn’t going to end up as wendigo jerky.
He thrashed around, then sat up on the edge of the bed. He stood up and walked into the room’s small, dingy kitchen. He pulled out a bottle of whisky and a tumbler. Filling the glass halfway, Dean downed the contents. Then he filled it again and drank more slowly. He was tired of the world threatening to explode. Tired of seeing his brother suffer. He needed a goddamn day off. Hell, he needed a goddamn life off.
Sam stirred in his sleep again, groaning. His brow knitted together. Damn Castiel. If he hadn’t removed that mental wall, things would be a lot easier for his brother. They needed every break they could get. But once again Cas had betrayed them, and now Dean had to watch his brother suffer daily through those hellish visions.
He walked back to the bed and sat down, watching the shadows of trees move on the thin curtains. Finishing the rest of his drink, he lay back on the bed, trying to force his mind to go quiet.
The morning came too early, with Bobby knocking on the door. Dean’s head throbbed dully from the whisky last night and a lack of sleep.
They drove to the trailhead and geared up, loading their packs with ammunition, Molotov cocktail ingredients, food, and water. They slung rifles over their shoulders, and Bobby took the lead, searching for the first trace of the creature. Dean followed him, carrying the flamethrower, and Sam took up the rear, watching their backs. The forest was quiet, with a few birds singing in the trees and the wind sighing peacefully through the branches. But Dean knew it wouldn’t be long before they were fighting for their lives.
THREE
Storm clouds moved in. The air in the forest hung wet and cold, and the cloud layer descended as the morning wore on, drifting eerily through the trees. A few times Sam could see the peaks beyond when the clouds parted, but the mists would swirl again, covering the view.
The soft pine needles beneath their feet felt spongy and wet, and the scent of snow lingered in the air, though it was still too warm for any flakes to fall. Sam’s breath frosted as he watched for movement in the trees.
Ahead of him Bobby stopped and bent down, studying a broken branch on a manzanita bush. “Something big came through here,” he said. “But could have been a buck.”
“Or a rogue bear?” Dean asked.
Bobby threw him a wry smile and stood up again, continuing on. They walked in silence, and quiet clung to the forest. A few times Sam heard a distant woodpecker and the complaining trill of a squirrel.
They hiked for two hours, moving deeper into the Tahoe National Forest. As they passed into a small clearing, Sam thought he saw movement in the trees on the far side, a blur of motion too fast for him to lock on to. Wendigos liked to move in trees. His heart picked up its pace, and he braced himself for a sudden attack from above.
“You guys see that?” he asked, stopping.
Dean turned, following Sam’s gaze into the massive ponderosa pines in front of them. “No.”
“I thought I saw something.”
“Keep your eyes peeled,” Bobby said. “I think we might be getting close.”
Dean looked grim. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”
They moved slowly forward, Bobby studying the forest floor for any sign of prints or hair. He stooped again, studying a large human-shaped footprint in a patch of mud. “This is it.” He gazed up at the trees at the far edge of the clearing, leaning on his rifle. “Smell that?”
Sam whiffed the air. Decay.
Dean wrinkled his nose. “Well, that can’t be good.”
“Come on.” Bobby waved them forward, led by his nose.
They passed through the clearing, Sam watching the branches above as they entered the trees. The fresh scent of wet pine hung heavily there, but above it all was the sickly sweet smell of decomposition. They moved quietly through the trees, avoiding fallen twigs and stepping over sodden logs.
Bobby held up a fist, the signal to stop. He gestured toward a distant point, and Sam saw a ramshackle wooden structure leaning against a massive granite boulder.
Bobby knelt down and slung off his pack. He made up two Molotov cocktails and handed one to Sam. Then he stood up, motioning for Dean to skirt left with the flamethrower and for Sam