Supernatural Fresh Meat

FIFTY-FOUR




“Is he gone?” Jimmy asked from the vent.

Dean blinked, unable to do anything else.

“Oh, damn. He got you, too.”

He pulled himself out a little farther, and now Dean could see his shoulders and head. The black hoodie was ripped, the hood pulled down to reveal Jimmy’s shortly cropped blond hair.

“Listen, that stuff wears off. It just takes time, and he may have bitten you more than once, but play it cool. If he’s distracted, he might not remember to bite you again before you get your body back.”

Dean stared at Jimmy.

“I’m going to try to dig myself out. Get help. I don’t think I can fight him on my own. If I can’t get out, I’ll come back and try to get the jump on him somehow.”

He shimmied back into the hole, leaving Dean alone and wondering what the hell he was going to do.

Cold began to creep around Dean. He still wore his parka and warm layers beneath, but the wall he leaned against felt unbearably cold. He guessed that on the other side of it, snow pressed in. He tried to imagine the scene from above. Was any part of the lodge still visible? How much snow had buried them?

His mind felt fuzzy. The desire to sleep pressed in on him, his dry eyes longing to close for a while, but he couldn’t let himself drift into unconsciousness.

Somewhere, far away down the corridors and in another devastated room, Dean heard a woman’s voice. “Is anyone alive in here?”

It was Susan. Maybe she had dug down. Maybe she was with rescuers. Hope filled him.

“My leg is trapped. Can someone help me?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Damn it!

“Hello?”

Dean willed her to be quiet.

“Can someone come help me?”

Shut up, shut up, shut up, he pleaded with her silently, because someone is coming.