Supernatural Fresh Meat - By Alice Henderson Page 0,77

snow. “Oh, Jesus.”

Susan started walking that way and Dean joined her. She stared ahead blankly, her face gone slack. When she reached Ambrose’s torso, she reached out and put one gloved hand on his. His jaw was broken and part of his scalp had been torn off. It dripped blood into the snow. She bent down to touch his face, and Dean placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Something churning in the avalanche must have torn through the back of his jacket, gouging long tears in the material. Blood seeped from the holes.

Dean bent closer, and saw that the skin beneath wasn’t torn. Puncture marks covered Ambrose’s lower back above the kidneys. He parted the rips in the jacket, seeing that Ambrose’s lungs had been sucked out through his ribs and past his spine. Dean drew in a sharp breath, glancing around for the aswang. His hand felt for the container of spices, and his fingers closed around it. He couldn’t believe it was actually still in his coat.

In the blinding snow, he could only see about forty feet out into the parking lot. The avalanche had stopped about twenty feet from where he stood, the cars on the far side blasted by the air mass, but not buried.

The scent of bile and urine blew around him on the wind. He pulled out his .45 with the spice-soaked bullets, ready to take a shot.

“Look what the avalanche did to him,” Susan said. “It tore him to pieces.”

Hank joined them. Don walked up beside them, solemnly taking in the view of their friend.

“All members of the ski patrol accounted for,” Hank said to Don.

Dean scanned around again, seeing another patch of blood in the snow about ten feet from Ambrose’s legs. He walked toward it. It stained the snow next to another light pole. When Dean reached it, he heard something scratch on the far side of the post. The post was wide, almost three feet, plenty of room to hide behind.

Dean lifted his gun, pointing it and circling. Standing on the opposite side was a familiar figure. His black hood was still pulled tightly around his face, but this time Dean could see him clearly. It was Jimmy from the Aces and Eights Saloon, the barkeep who’d been so eager to join them on the hunt. He clutched one hand to his upper arm, which streamed blood. The wound wasn’t from the avalanche, though. It was a gunshot wound, exactly where Dean had hit the person who’d been trailing him.

“Jimmy?” Dean said.

Jimmy’s eyes flashed reflectively. He opened his mouth, teeth growing long and sharp. Dean pulled out his Bowie knife from his hip sheath and Jimmy snarled at him, moving away from the pole. A sudden powerful blast of wind gusted down on top of them, throwing them off balance. It screamed over the top of the snow, sending up a blinding ground blizzard. Dean caught sight of Jimmy moving away, back toward the lodge. He staggered in the wind, running after him.

“We have to get inside!” he heard Don yell.

Voices shouted from the lodge, and as Dean ran, he saw Grace standing by the door, arguing with Jason. He towered over her, angrily pointing at her, and she stood defiantly shouting back.

Dean forced his exhausted body to run faster. Jimmy ran up to Grace and shoved Jason down hard in the snow. Then he brought his boot down on Jason’s head and grabbed Grace, forcing her through the doors into the lodge.

“Get inside! Get behind something solid!” Don was still shouting from somewhere ahead of Dean. Dean couldn’t make out where the mountain manager was.

Suddenly, running became almost impossible. The ground shook beneath him. The wind kicked up higher, swirling around him and obscuring the lodge.

He heard shouts and followed them. The grey hulk of the building swam up before him. Beneath his feet, the snow shifted, making it impossible to make headway.

“It’s released another one!” he heard Don yell. “Get inside!”

In the blinding snowstorm, Dean could see the ski patrol members running toward the lodge. He saw Susan’s red parka and focused on it in the gale. He tripped, realized he’d reached the stairs to the lodge, and bounded up them. Don stood at the door, ushering people inside.

“There’s no time!”

As Dean entered the ruins of the lodge, he spotted Jimmy dragging Grace through the employees-only door that led to the crew rooms below. He glanced around for Jason, but didn’t see him. Then he took off