Supernatural Fresh Meat - By Alice Henderson Page 0,96
and have ‘no trespassing’ signs posted all over the entrance.”
“I’m leaning your way, Sam.”
Bobby pulled out his map. They clustered around it, finding the wendigo’s mine, the spot where the hunter’s buddies had found the blood pool, the area where Sam and Dean had first been attacked by the aswang, then the approximate location of the cabin where Dean had found the eggs.
“Grace said she was tracking those bear poachers near Silverado Ridge before they vanished,” Dean added. He pointed to it on the map.
Sam scanned for a nearby mine symbol. Sure enough, one stood in the middle of the activity.
“That’s our spot,” Bobby said.
Sam found their current location. “So, about a mile and a half due east.”
He reached into his pocket, pulling out the stingray whip.
They walked steadily, not saying anything to each other.
Dean seemed quiet. Sam knew it must have eaten him up, being so helpless while the aswang fed. He’d always had a thing about feeling useless. But Dean was strong. Even though he and Bobby worried Dean’s head wasn’t in the game, Sam was sure that in the end Dean would always fight, and would fight with everything in him.
They trudged through the snow, covering the mile and a half in little more than half an hour. Stopping in a dense cluster of trees, they spotted the mine entrance some hundred feet away, set into a face of rock. Rusty bars covered the entrance in an attempt to keep out curious explorers. A sign read, “Danger. Unsafe Mine. Stay Out. Stay Alive.” But the gate had long ago been compromised, the bars wrenched away along the bottom, leaving plenty of room to come and go.
Sam held the whip coiled in one hand, while Dean and Bobby gripped knives soaked in spices. Taking off their snowshoes, they left them by the entrance. Then they stepped through the bars, ducking under the rusty metal. Darkness enveloped them as they entered the old mine. A rank gust of methane assaulted Sam’s senses.
“No bullets,” Bobby warned them unnecessarily.
Switching on headlamps, they studied the dirt on the mine floor. A mess of recent footprints disturbed the soil there, some bare, some booted. Bobby pointed out a set of bare feet with claws that lay on top of the others. Sam nodded and they followed them.
Aside from the beams of their headlamps, darkness closed in on them as they turned the first corner. Blood had seeped into the floor in places, red and fresh.
Dean sniffed the air. “I can smell the same sizzling meat smell I did in the lodge. He’s in here.”
They followed the footprints, turning several corners and then descending down a long shaft. The smell of methane grew stronger. An ancient electrical line ran along the ceiling, rusted hooks holding the cables in place by the supporting beams.
At the end of the long tunnel, three forks branched off. Bobby investigated each one, then chose the middle way. It dipped farther underground, taking them deeper and deeper into the mine. Fresh blood continued to dot the soil. Dirt stirred up as they walked, drifting in motes in the glow of their headlamps. The tunnel led them to a wide space where the mine walls had been worked in antiquity. An old mine car stood there, some pieces of ore still sitting in it.
Bobby held up a fist to signal for them to stop. He searched the floor, finding the set of bare feet again and motioning them forward.
Sam strained to hear any sound at all. Sometimes a gust of foul wind blew through the mine, but other than that ghostly rush of air, it was silent.
They walked through a narrow opening into another tunnel which angled off to the right, dipping still lower. The scent of methane was now so strong that Sam felt like he was walking in a sewer. He gripped the whip handle, trying to strain the smell through his teeth. It didn’t work.
At the next junction they continued right, following the tracks. A long, low wail echoed eerily down the mine tunnel. Instantly, the three froze, listening. It came again.
“That him?” Sam whispered to Dean.
Dean listened, then furrowed his brow. “Hard to say.”
“Well, it’s someone,” Bobby said. “Let’s go.”
They followed the sound, keeping track of the blood and footprints. They led in the same direction.
Sam could hear water trickling from one of the tunnels. The sound bounced erratically off the walls, throwing off which direction it lay in. The low moan echoed again, drifting down the