Supernatural Fresh Meat

FOUR




Together they crept toward the sound of the woman’s cries. Dean gripped the flamethrower, finger on the trigger. As they neared a dense cluster of trees, the cry suddenly stopped, cut off. Either the creature had just finished her off or there was no woman at all. They listened, pausing. Bobby studied the ground, pointing to more brush with broken branches. Up in the trees, a fresh break had caused a branch to fall. They listened. The reassuring hiss from the blue flame at the tip of the flamethrower was the only sound.

Bobby walked to the fallen branch, then studied the trees above for movement or sign.

“Anything?” Sam asked.

Bobby frowned. “This whole area is riddled with old mines. Thing could be holed up somewhere, right beneath our feet.”

Sam looked down. “That’s a reassuring thought.”

A crack of a branch brought their attention up. Dean saw a blur of movement, leaping from tree to tree, but it was too fast to make out. He aimed the flamethrower up, but the thing was gone before he could fire. He wasn’t exactly excited about the thought of setting the forest alight, either. He had to be careful. As careful as he could be and not end up dead, anyway.

Twenty feet away, high in the branches of a ponderosa, the thing moved again, circling. Bobby poised to throw the cocktail and instinctively the three formed a protective ring, backs to each other.

“When it comes down it’s going to come in fast and furious,” Bobby told them. “Brace yourselves.”

Then the attack came. Dean felt claws slice into his chest as a blur of movement streaked by him. He fired the flamethrower, but it missed its target. He spun around, moving away from Sam and Bobby. Another hit struck him on the back of his head and he went down. Blood streamed into his eye as he staggered to his feet. He heard Bobby cry out and saw Sam fly through the air and slam into a tree. Something growled, wet and hot, next to his ear, and he slammed his fist backward, meeting something fleshy and cold.

Dean brought up the flamethrower. He was going to gank this sucker. Sam wasn’t moving, leaning against the tree with his head sagging. Dean couldn’t even see Bobby. For a moment he feared that the thing had grabbed Bobby and taken to the trees. He heard Bobby shout and looked up, seeing his friend dangling from the wendigo’s arm. Bobby thrashed around, hands closing around the stock of the rifle slung on his back.

How damn strong could it be?

“Bobby!” Dean yelled.

Bobby wriggled the rifle around to the front of his jacket. His finger laced through the trigger and a deafening shot rang out. The bullet tore through the wendigo’s face. Bobby fell, crashing through branches and landing with a thud in a cluster of bushes.

Shrieking, the wendigo leapt down on top of him, claws raised. Another cacophonous boom rang through the forest and the wendigo staggered backward, shotgun pellets embedded in its chest. Sam had recovered and stood to the left, shotgun poised for another round.

Dean saw his chance and ran forward, firing the flamethrower. Bobby groaned and rolled free of the bush. The edge of the fire touched the wendigo’s arm and it howled, moving so fast that Dean could no longer see it. The blur moved into the dense trees, the cry on the wind fading as it ran away.

“It’s getting away!” Sam yelled.

“I see that!” Dean called back. He looked to Bobby, who wasn’t going to be jumping up any time soon to track the wendigo before the trail went cold. “And unless you got something that moves a hell of a lot faster than we do, we won’t catch up.”

Bobby crawled away from the burning bushes. Some of the pine needles were starting to catch and the fire spread. Dean flung down the flamethrower and rushed to his friend, dragging him clear of the flames.

“Damn wendigo messed up my ribs,” Bobby grumbled.

Sam started stamping out the flames and Dean joined him, kicking dirt onto the fire. The pine needles caught unbelievably fast, and Dean took off his coat and started swatting at them.

They were so engrossed in stopping the fire that they didn’t hear the person approach from behind them. Dean heard the cock of a handgun and a voice yelled, “Just what the hell are you boys doing?”

Dean spun around to find himself looking down the barrel of a .38.