Supernatural Fresh Meat

TWENTY-TWO




The bell rang above Sam’s head as he exited Johennie’s shop, a bag full of spices tucked under one arm. He also now had the stingray barb and the hemp and twine for the whip.

In the west, a glow was still visible above the horizon, though the sun had now set. The deep blue of the sky there blended into night in the east.

He was halfway to Bobby’s van when a splitting pain erupted in the back of his head. He crashed down hard, thinking at the last minute that he couldn’t land on the bag. He twisted, landing on his back.

As the blinding pain surged forward, forcing his eyes shut, Sam struggled to get his bearings. Vaguely aware of a VW Rabbit parked beside him, he slid the bag under it.

Gripping the back of his head with one hand, he tried to rise. Warm stickiness met his cradling fingers. He forced his eyes open in time to see a two-by-two come swinging down for a second strike. Instinctively, he rolled on the asphalt, the wood hitting the street instead of his face.

Fight-or-flight adrenaline forced his brain to focus. Sam shook his head and got his bearings. He was on the street. Someone just clubbed him with a board. He reached out, steadying himself against the Rabbit. There was blood from his head wound on his hand.

The man with the two-by-two swam into focus above him as Sam got to his knees. He was a scrawny bastard with faded jeans and a worn leather jacket. His scuffed boots cried army surplus. When Sam met his eyes, he saw a familiar reflective glint; a flash of silver he’d seen before. Vampire.

As his head cleared, he heard the crunch of boots on gravel and glanced to his left in time to see a pair of brown cowboy boots draw nearer.

Leather Jacket swung the board again and this time Sam caught it. He pushed it forward with all his strength, throwing the vampire back against a parked truck. The attacker lost his grip and Sam swung the board around in an arc, hitting Cowboy Boots in the head with a sickening crack.

Blood streamed down the vampire’s face. Sam had broken his nose for sure. He heard a rough voice behind him yell, “Grab him!” and whirled around to see three more vampires approaching cautiously.

Damn it. He had no immediate way to do them any real damage. If he could get to Bobby’s van, he could use the machete to decapitate them. None of the other vampire stereotypes worked—no crosses, no stakes through the heart, even the sun didn’t hurt them more than causing a bad sunburn.

Sam lunged out with the two-by-two and the trio backed off. But already he could hear Leather Jacket getting to his feet and closing in behind him. Sam took a gamble and ran for Bobby’s van.

As blood trickled down his back, he fished in his pocket for the keys and pulled them out. He knew he’d left the spices under the Rabbit, but would just have to come back for them or he’d be dead. He was badly outnumbered. He heard Leather Jacket laugh in a cocky way as he struggled to unlock the door with slick, blood-soaked hands.

“Having trouble there, Winchester?” the vampire gloated, moving closer. Sam wanted to punch him in his smug, blood-sucking face.

Instead, he put all his effort into getting into the van, then locked the door. The vampires closed in around him, pounding on the glass. Then suddenly a cacophonous shot rang out.

Leather Jacket laughed arrogantly again, and Sam heard him yell, “That pea shooter isn’t going to do much to kill us, grandpa.”

Sam got the van started and backed up in the direction of the gunshot. He heard a satisfying thump as he hit one of the vampires. The others kept pounding on the glass, running alongside him.

Johennie stood in the doorway to his shop, a sawed-off shotgun in his hands. “Maybe not, you ghoulish son of a bitch, but it’ll hurt like hell.”

He unloaded a round point-blank into Leather Jacket’s face. The vampire howled, bringing his hands up. Johennie fired a third round into another vampire’s chest.

Sam pulled up level with the store. “Get in!” he called out.

Johennie rushed up to the passenger door and hopped in. They roared off down the road, Sam swerving to hit two of the vampires who’d been slamming their fists against the glass.

“That was a close one!” Johennie said. “What the hell were those things?”

“Vampires.”

“Vampires? I thought they were just the concoction of Polidori and Stoker.”

“Most of them have been wiped out, but there are still nests of them here and there.”

Odysseus gave a long, low whistle. “I’ll be damned.”

Sam turned down the highway toward Point Reyes Station.

“Where we heading?”

“Back to Marta’s. Those vamps were lying in wait for me back there. They knew my name. This feels like a setup. We’ve got to warn Bobby.”

Odysseus opened the breech of his shotgun and reloaded it. Then he snapped it back together. “I’m game.”

“I see that.”

As Sam entered the town of Point Reyes Station, he could see an orange glow on the horizon, but this time it wasn’t the sunset. By the time he turned onto the little street that led to Marta’s restaurant, he could see the source.

The Pelican’s Nest was on fire.