asked.
She began with the curved needle, making tiny, neat stitches. Her brow furrowed. “I don’t think so. The other doctors might have. How did you say this happened?”
“Uh… some kind of hooked weapon,” Dean said quickly. They always went to great lengths to seem as plausible as possible, which usually wasn’t very easy.
“Well, this is bad. Are you up on your tetanus shots?”
“I think so,” Sam said.
“Well, I’m giving you another one just in case,” she told him.
She finished the row of stitches on Sam’s chest. An earlier X-ray had miraculously shown no damage to his collarbones. “I’m going to fill out a painkiller prescription for you and come back with your discharge papers.”
When she left the room, Dean whispered, “I’m amazed that thing was able to pick up a Jolly Green Giant like you.”
Outside the little examination area, Sam suddenly heard a familiar voice. “That’s Bobby,” he told Dean.
Dean popped his head out, seeing Bobby talking to an E.R. doctor. When they finished, Dean called him over.
Bobby stepped inside the blue curtain. “What are you two doing here?”
“We had a run in with a… thing,” Dean elucidated.
“A thing.”
“A flying thing. It had wings.”
“And claws.” Sam added.
Bobby frowned. “I think that man was its handiwork.”
“Naked sleepwalker guy?” Dean asked.
Bobby nodded. “He was full of organs. Other people’s organs. And the creepier part is that I think he was already dead when we found him.”
Dean grimaced. “You mean walking around dead?”
“Yep.”
Sam stood up from the exam table. “What could do that?”
Bobby set his mouth in a grim line. “That’s what we need to find out.”
SIXTEEN
At the Truckee Public Library, Sam pored over old newspaper articles on microfiche. Dean sat at the table behind him, going through the newspaper indexes.
“I have an eerie sense of déjà vu,” Dean said, not loving the research part. He’d been writing down the call numbers for different articles that looked promising, while Sam located them in the microfiche cabinets.
“If we can find other accounts, we might figure out what we’re dealing with.”
“My eyes are going blurry, and I’m getting motion sick watching you skim that microfiche.”
Sam stopped scrolling when he found the article Dean had written down the reference for. “Strange Corpse Found Containing Organs of Twelve Different People.” He skimmed the article. “Check this out. On Thanksgiving in 1992, missing hiker Michael Strathmore returned to his family as they sat down for the holiday meal. They welcomed him in, but he wouldn’t stand still, instead roaming all over the house. Finally he grew weak and collapsed. When they did an autopsy, they found the organs of twelve different people inside him.”
“Where did he disappear?”
“Near Donner Lake. And the body was covered with sealed puncture wounds.”
“That’s our guy.”
Sam read the rest of the article, hoping it might reference other similar instances. It didn’t.
“Anything helpful?” Dean asked.
“Nothing except we know this thing’s been here since at least ’92.”
Dean continued to look over the indices. When he exhausted the Sierra Tribune, he moved to the Sacramento Chronicle. “Here’s another one.” Dean wrote down the reference number and handed it to Sam.
After he retrieved the microfiche spool, Sam wound it through the machine. “Missing Aviator Found Dead With Puncture Wounds.” Sam read the article. “It’s about a prop plane pilot who crashed in the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas in 1964, out near Brantley Ridge. A huge search party turned up nothing. Then about a week later, he just strolled into the small town of Blue Canyon and walked the length of Main Street. He collapsed at the far end. The coroner determined that someone had filled him up with the organs of other people and that he’d died from septicemia.” Sam finished the article. “Yuck. Except the guy had no lungs or heart, so I don’t know how the coroner reached that conclusion. I think you’d die of that before septicemia.”
“Maybe he didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound crazy.”
“Keep looking. We’re on to something.”
Dean returned to the over-large blue index books of the Chronicle. After a few minutes, he said, “Got another one.”
Sam spooled it up. In 1932, a ranch hand in the Central Valley of California had disappeared just outside Sacramento. His body was found by gas company workers some twenty miles away. The medical examiner found the organs of fourteen different people sealed inside the corpse.
Dean leaned forward as Sam relayed the tale. “So, Sacramento, the foothills, Tahoe. This thing was moving east.”
Sam stood up from the microfiche machine. Moving to the shelf full