Supernatural Fresh Meat

THIRTY-FIVE




Dean startled awake to a thunderous roar. He sat up in bed, unsure for a moment where he was. For a second he thought he’d fallen asleep in the car next to a freight train yard. Something loud was approaching. He propped his elbow behind him, his heart thumping wildly. Then he remembered where he was, in the bedroom of the cabin in the Tahoe National Forest. Exhaustion had claimed him some time in the early hours.

The roar grew louder, reminding him of the cacophony of funnel clouds he’d seen in Kansas. He swung his legs to the ground and peered up through the window above the bed. Only white swirled there.

He stood up, moving to the window and staring out. The higher viewpoint didn’t offer anything else. Only white fog met his eyes.

“Grace?” he called, walking quickly into the main room.

She wasn’t on the couch where he’d left her. The quilt over the broken window had billowed out, blowing over the chair.

He pulled on his boots and moved to the door. Outside, the roar intensified. He found the door unlocked and swung it open just as the ground began to shake. He gripped the doorjamb with both hands as the cabin started to vibrate and shudder. He could make out the vague, hazy outline of trees in the swirling white. The snow on the ground quaked and jumped, breaking into chunks that cracked and shifted. The vibrations moved up through his boots into his legs and torso until he could feel the tremors through his whole body, a deep thrumming at his core.

He scanned for the ranger, not seeing anything but the storm.

“Grace!” he shouted above the din.

Suddenly, the shaking stopped. The roar was instantly replaced with a hiss that faded to silence. Dean strained his ears. All he could hear was the quiet musical tinkle of snowflakes cascading down around him.

“Grace!” he shouted again.

There was crunching in the snow, and a second later she came running around the side of the cabin, breathless. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, and she bent over, catching her breath.

“What was that?” Dean asked.

She pointed up and behind her, toward the obscured mountain slopes above them. She swallowed, her throat sounding dry. “Avalanche!” she said between gasps. “A huge one!” She shook her head, hands on her knees. “Thought it was going to arc this way and take us out!” She stood up, looking back. “As it is, it barely missed us. I’ve never heard one that huge.” She stared around her. “And it’s still snowing.”

Dean stepped aside as she moved into the warm cabin. She stripped out of her jacket and hat, tossing her gloves onto the couch.

“We can’t stay here, Dean. Another avalanche and we could easily be buried.”

He shut the door, then moved to the fireplace. Grace had evidently piled more logs on the fire before she went out.

“Someone built this cabin in an avalanche path?” he asked incredulously.

She shook her head. “No. It was probably fine for decades. But for a second the clouds parted, and I could see that one just took out a swath of the forest that was protecting this cabin. We couldn’t withstand another one, and they can come in swarms.”

Dean thought of Bobby and Sam. He suspected they were on the way back with the weapon. If they left now, they could hike out, avoid the avalanche, and get the weapon.

“I have to get back to my car.”

She put her hands on her hips, still laboring to breathe. “No—you can’t do that. You’d be walking right across the foot of the avalanche path. In fact…” She pulled out her map as her words trailed off. She spread it out on the coffee table and gestured him over. “I did some place finding out there. When the clouds parted for just a couple of minutes, it was long enough for me to see that we’re at the bottom of this escarpment here.” She pointed to a steep cliff on the map. “If you hike out to your car,” she trailed her finger along the path he would take, “you’re not just crossing this avalanche zone, but three more.” She met his gaze. “Dean, there’s a good chance you simply wouldn’t make it. And with it continuing to snow like this, the danger is just going to get worse.”

Dean felt his stomach sink. He had to reach Bobby and Sam.

“We can’t stay here, either.”

“Right.” Grace moved her finger to the symbol of a downhill skier on the map. “I think we should head for the Tahoe Summit Ski Resort. They’ve got to know about the avalanche danger, and the avalanche patrol might be able to do a controlled slide we won’t get caught in. That’ll release the pressure and we’d be able to hike safely across the avalanche zones.”

Dean studied the map. The ski resort lay six miles from where they were, and up one thousand vertical feet.

“Why would we be safer going there, crossing this area, instead of back toward the car?”

She pointed out the trail they would use. “It’s up and across some very dense forest. We’d be a lot safer doing that trek than trying to get out and crossing large open spaces. The ski resort will have electricity, food, water, emergency supplies, and a medic.”

Dean considered it. With electricity, he’d be able to recharge his phone and call Bobby and Sam. A ski resort also meant roads going up to it, and maybe they could reach him that way.

He looked at Grace, still concerned, but leaning her way. “If there really is such a high avalanche danger, how do you know if the resort will still be open? Wouldn’t they have evacuated it?”

“They would have evacuated the guests, but not the skeleton crew. The avalanche control team and the mountain manager will still be up there, as will members of the ski patrol.”

Dean looked back at the map. The lines of contour appeared tiny and simple on the paper, but he knew from his trek yesterday that walking six miles in thigh-deep snow would be exhausting and take a ridiculously long time. Trying to do that with an injured leg, like Jason, would be nearly impossible. He worried the hunter might not have made it out alive, even without the aswang hunting them.

Heading to the resort was their best bet. “Let’s do it.”

“Okay.” Grace folded up the map and stowed it back in her bag, then started to suit up again.

“I’m going to look for an outbuilding with supplies.”

“I saw one when I was out there trying to get my bearings. Head around back.”

Dean slung on his coat and left the cabin. A few feet from the door, he sank up to his waist. Each step was an effort, as he had to extract his legs and swing them over the top of the snow. Fifty feet behind the cabin stood a small shed. Dean hadn’t seen it at all in the whiteout the day before. He pushed through the white powder and reached the door. Thankfully it swung inward, or he’d have to shovel the whole thing out. He lifted the latch and pushed it open. Inside were two inner tubes, an old-fashioned sled, four pairs of cross-country skis with poles, and four pairs of snowshoes. He breathed a huge sigh of relief. Six miles would have been hell without snowshoes. This was starting to look possible.

He grabbed the pair that were about the right length for his height and sat down on the dusty floor of the shed next to the sled. Quickly he lashed the snowshoes on, grateful he’d found them.

While he sat there, he unloaded his rifle and .45. Carefully he dipped each bullet in the spice concoction. Since it had made the aswang’s skin bubble, maybe he’d be able to get some inside the creature this way. He reloaded the anointed ammunition back into the guns, and put the extras into his parka pocket.

When he left the shed, he stepped up into the mound of snow, finding the going infinitely easier. He walked along the surface, sinking just slightly into the soft, powdery snow.

He gazed around him. Smoke curled from the cabin’s chimney. Above the roof, mist gathered, creeping slowly through the forest. He looked up in the direction of the slope where Grace had seen the avalanche. He couldn’t see anything but clouds there, obscuring the peaks.

A wind kicked up, swirling snow in front of him and blinding him for a second. Then it whirled away, and suddenly he could see the whole extent of the mountain slope above them.

Dean had never seen a swath cut by an avalanche before, but now he found himself staring at the raw power of nature. A staggeringly huge mass of disturbed snow wound down the entire mountain, splintered tree trunks sticking out at odd angles. It had cut a track for itself hundreds of feet wide.

He understood what Grace had tried to explain; only a small patch of protective forest stood between the cabin and the massive destruction of the avalanche. That tiny patch of trees would not survive the next big rumble of snow.

They had to get out of there now.