The Winchester Boys and the Tremors of Doom - Chapter 5
As a primary producer, Carlos Massina was eligible to get conditional road registration for his ATVs, which meant they had been modified to include both horns and headlights. When the walkie at Sam’s belt squawked, he hit the horn, flashed his lights and slowed to a stop. Angel, who had been in the lead, circled back and parked beside Sam, and Noah and Blake pulled up behind him.
“Cahill?” Sam said into the walkie. “Is that you?”
“Yeah. It’s me,’ the man hesitated. “Neither your brother nor Virgil are here yet. And…we saw…we thought we saw…there was this god-awful shriek and then…” Cahill’s swallow was audible, even through the walkie, “we’re almost a mile away, but it looked like some kinda big anaconda.”
“Hijo de la chingada,” Angel muttered. “It’s a minhocão, I swear to God.”
“Is that Angel I can hear cussing?” Dodger broke in, his voice thick with disapproval.
Angel was unapologetic. “You’d cuss too if you’d seen what we saw.”
“We’ll check it out,” Sam interrupted. “Whereabouts were they?”
Cahill gave them directions, and Angel nodded and went to take the lead again. Sam put a hand to his arm. “Hold up,” he said. “We don’t know what we’re heading into here, but we should at least try to be prepared before we go charging in.”
Sam turned to Noah and Blake who were idling behind them in the Jeep. “You guys ever heard anything about anaconda in these parts?”
“Minhocão,” Angel hissed.
Noah shook his head. “Nothing. Not about anaconda or minhocão. Blake got on the radio to the office, reported the death and asked them to look into the local history, myths, legends and so on.”
Sam looked at Blake. “They’re gonna get back to me,” Blake said.
Sam nodded. “You got anything that could be used as a weapon?”
“Got a rifle in the back,” Blake said. “Other than that,” he frowned. “We got some tools and equipment, but nothing that could do any damage to something big enough to rip a man in two.”
“We’ve got a box of flares,” Noah said. “That could be enough to scare it off. Most animals aren’t fond of fire.”
~~~
Ronnie struggled, crying out against the hand clasped firmly over his mouth, but Dean refused to relent. “Stop,” he whispered harshly. “You draw attention to yourself, you’re gonna get us both killed.” The worm moved, knocking the Jeep over, searching for any bits of Virgil it might have missed. Dean swallowed down the bile that rose up in his throat, even as he was, his mind clicked into planning mode. They couldn’t stay. Not if they were to have any hope of surviving. But where could they go? The rocky outcrop that could serve as protection was too far. They’d never make it without some kind of distraction. Any trees near enough to reach were too low to the ground. They’d already seen that thing bring the mass of its body straight out of the ground. If they ran for it, that thing would track them through their vibrations, but he had to get Ronnie to safety. That was the priority. He wondered briefly about the horses. Would Blossom make it back to town alright or was she destined to become worm-fodder? “Okay,” he said in Ronnie’s ear, voice low, “here’s what we’re gonna do. On the count of three, we’re gonna stand up real slow-like.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“You can. I’m gonna help you. Look,” Dean said, pointing towards the wreckage that was Virgil’s Jeep. “It’s preoccupied right now and we’re going to take advantage of that fact. Real slow, we’re just gonna climb to our feet and stand real still, alright?”
Ronnie nodded once and on the mark, stood up with the fluency only youth could allow. He twisted his upper body and offered Dean his hand, and in the next moment, Dean was on his feet too. They stood perfectly still and yet much too close for comfort, waiting with bated breath to see if the worm would notice.
It did not. Instead, it sank, retreating slowly back into the earth.
“It’s over,” Ronnie said on a sigh of relief. “Can we get out of here, now?”
“Nah, kid. It’s not over. Didn’t you ever watch horror movies? The monster always comes back.”
Without taking a step, Dean reached down and retrieved a rock from the ground. He bounced it in his hand, feeling its weight and deciding that it was heavy enough to do the trick. He brought his arm back and baseball threw the stone out across the gaping hole in the ground. It smacked the wrecked Jeep with a twang and then landed with a heavy thud in the loose dirt.
Dean began to count silently on his fingers, one, two…the beast surged up, attacking the Jeep again.
“Jesus Christ,” Ronnie whispered through his shaking hands. “What are we gonna do?”
Dean swept down and picked up a second and third stone from the ground. “I’m going to distract it, and you’re gonna run like hell. That’s what we’re gonna do.”
Ronnie shook his head fervently. “Run for it? Running's not a plan! Running's what you do, once a plan fails! Besides, I can’t leave yo-”
“You can and you will. You run. You don’t stop. You don’t turn around…no matter what you hear. You got me? The most important thing is that we get you to high rocky ground.”
“But I can help. I can fight.”
“Fight what? Did you not see that thing? Listen. Listen to me,” Dean emphasized when Ronnie turned stubbornly away. “You have a family at home to take care of. That is your main concern; getting home to them. Now, I’m gonna lead it away from you and when I tell you to, you pedal your ass as fast as you can, that-a-way,”
Ronnie looked off towards the rocky outcrop and glanced back at Dean, worry creasing his brow.
“You’ll make it. Trust me. I’m gonna keep Big Chief here off of ya, okay? You get to Cahill. He’s up there with Luke. You get there and you hold up with them until help arrives.”
“Okay.”
“And if you find my brother, you tell him to haul ass back here. Quick.” Dean stooped and grabbed up a few more large rocks, carefully lowering them into the sling he’d made of his tshirt. “Alright, you ready? Don’t run until I say.”
“I won’t,” Ronnie promised.
With a nod of approval, Dean lobbed the first rock into the air, landing it on the far side of the hole, several feet beyond the Jeep wreckage. The earth groaned; dirt and rock vibrating around their feet as the creature moved, but it did not breach the surface. Dean cocked his head and frowned.
“I’m going this way,” Dean said, pointing off toward the hole. “Gonna draw it away from you. Every step I take, you’re gonna take one, going that way. We move when it moves. Got it?”
He didn’t wait for an answer; just pulled back and let a series of rocks sail, each one a bit further off. The Worm followed, moving slowly as though it was stalking the deep thuds of rock falling into the rust colored soil. And every time the Worm moved, Dean and Ronnie did too; taking advantage of the distraction. Dean worked his way around the exterior of the hole, putting as much space between himself and Ronnie as he could, because when he put his plan into action, Ronnie was going to need that distance if he was going to get clear of the danger.
Every painfully careful step Dean took was timed just right so that it would coincide with the Worm’s own movements. Every rock thrown moved the Worm further away from Ronnie, until the kid was at the bottom of a short, brush covered hill. It was now or never. Dean gathered his wits, met Ronnie’s worried look and took a deep breath. He raised three fingers into the air and began the countdown. 3 - 2 - “Run!”
Ronnie took off, clambering up and over the gentle slope; out of sight, and Dean ran the opposite direction, making sure his heavy footfalls would draw the beast’s attention towards him and away from the younger man. The Worm rounded immediately; ignoring the rocks Dean was still throwing and instead zeroing in on Dean’s own rhythmic movements. The plan was working; going exactly as planned except for one minor detail. The Worm was following at a surprisingly lazy pace.
It should have made Dean wary. Should have triggered warning bells, but all it did was lull him into a false sense of security. He ran and the Worm stayed on course for twenty feet or better, until suddenly it wasn’t there anymore.
Dean skidded to a stop and waited with his arms and legs outstretched, ready to bolt. He held his breath and looked around him for ‘Worm sign’, but there was none. No earthquake-like tremor underfoot, no vibrating rock, no dirt crumbling away from the raised mound, nothing.
“What are you up to?” he wondered aloud. Somewhere along the line the Worm had stopped pursuing him, and now Dean just couldn’t be sure where it was. He took a tentative step and then another when the first didn’t bring the monster to the surface. Looking around, Dean rolled his eyes. Chloride was to the west. An entire town of innocent people; couldn’t go west. And scrubland spanned the southern horizon, dotted by uneven, rocky soil and knee high brush that would trip him up and slow him down, miles of desert and no safety in sight. “Yeah, this was a bad idea.”
He needed to get himself somewhere safe too; somewhere he could regroup. He’d sent Ronnie to the foothills and Cahill. There he’d be protected. And the hill over which Ronnie had fled was at least 300 yards behind him; a good head start for the kid and a step in the right direction. That was where safety lay-in the rocky foothills of the Cerbat Mountains. Dean put a hand to his brow and wiped at the sheen of sweat that threatened to run into his eyes and squinted back the way he’d just come. Maybe he should just make a run for it? Maybe the Worm had really gone. Maybe it was full. Maybe it had a piece of Virgil stuck in its teeth and wanted to go home and floss before it ate again. Maybe Dean was getting sunstroke. He inclined his head to one side. Why was there suddenly a mist of fine orange powder hovering above the ground?
Dean had barely finished the thought when the earth around him shuddered, causing him to lose his footing. The ground gave way, and he fell, crashing chest first into the rough dirt, his hands scrambling for purchase. He grabbed hold of the nearest tree, tugging himself back onto solid ground just as the Worm rose up from its tunnel. Holding tight to the narrow trunk, Dean yanked his Colt out of his waistband with his free hand, turned and fired the .45 straight into the head of the emerging Worm. It reared up, screeching in pain-or anger, Dean couldn’t tell which-and exposed its softer, more vulnerable throat. Dean fired three more shots and felt satisfaction watching the bullets tear through the unprotected flesh, splattering blood and tissue across the sand.
The sound it made was ear piercing; angry and annoyed, not critically injured like Dean had hoped. It tossed its head from side to side in an attempt to shake off the sting of Dean’s bullets, and Dean was left with no reaction time as the big black head swung down like a club and knocked him end over end across the desert floor.
Get up. Get up. Get up. Get Up! Over and over, Get up! Blood pumped through his ears; pounding out a heavy and insistent rhythm, urging him into action, but Dean couldn’t pull himself up to his feet. He hurt all over and his head swam so much that he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes for fear of the world tipping over into vertigo. He tried to raise his head; tried to push himself up from the ground and do what it was his muddled brain was demanding: Get Up and RUN before that thing eats you! But it was useless. He was useless. He flopped over on his back and groaned, the whole left side of his body alight with pain from the dual collision-the Worm hitting him and then him hitting the rough ground. And when he touched a particularly tender place above his elbow, his hand came away tacky with blood.
Dean felt the earth vibrate beneath him. Get up! He felt sand and dirt and gravel shower lightly around him. Get up! He felt a shadow drape over him, and he raised his uninjured arm to defend against the attack. Immediately his hand was grabbed. Hot and slick and rough, it pulled a yelp out of Dean’s throat, and then pulled him up off his back.
“Dean! Get up!”
“Sammy?” Dean’s eyes popped open and the world spun, but only long enough for Dean to get his bearings. Sam looked down on him from above, and it was then that Dean realized that he was lying on the hill; his feet pointed up and his head pointed down.
Sam tightened his grip and wrapped his long fingers around Dean’s wrist, urging his brother up. “We gotta go, Dean.”
Dean let Sam pull him to his feet and he quickly clambered on to the back of the quad; his chest pressing solidly against his brother’s back as they peeled off, back up the hill. “Where is it?”
“Close,” Sam squinted against the wind and shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun and scanned the area for any sign of the creature. “I scared it off with a flare, but it didn’t go far. Here, take these. We’re probably gonna need them again.” Sam passed a gunny sack over his shoulder.
Dean peered into the bag and found a plethora of handmade flares. He eyed them appreciatively for a moment and then frowned. “These things worked against the Mohave Death Worm?” Dean questioned, skeptically. “I mean, you have seen this thing, right? It’s huge. What’s a little flare gonna do against it?”
“Kept you from getting eaten, didn’t it? Dude, what were you even thinking? Trying to out run it. Reckless.”
“I was trying to get the kid to…Ronnie! Have you seen him?”
“Scrawny kid? Dark hair, about nineteen or so? Angel picked him up.”
“Thank God.” They cleared the hill and were met by a Jeep carrying two men Dean hadn’t seen before, and a second quad that pulled up alongside them with Ronnie riding double behind a boy Dean assumed was Angel. “You alright, kid? Dean called out.
“Yeah. You?”
The ground rumbled beneath them, shaking the moving vehicles noticeably as a fine dust rose up around them.
“I’ll be a helluva lot better when we can get out of this sand encrusted nightmare. Sammy, get us outta here!”
“Get ready,” Sam shouted back at him, pouring the speed on, and then looking back at the younger men and giving Angel a commanding look.
Dean untangled his fingers from the gear rack where he was holding on for dear life, and dug into the bag of flares. Across from him, Ronnie was doing the same. They each removed the caps of several flares and prepared to strike them.
The other ATV gave a sudden lurch, jostling its riders and eliciting twin shouts from the younger men. Ronnie stuck the first flare and dropped it over the side of the vehicle right as the Worm breached the surface. The flare bounced harmlessly off the Worm’s armor plated head.
“Get under it,” Dean yelled, touching the roughly shaved column of his own throat. “The top is protected. Gotta go for the soft underbelly.”
Ronnie stuck a second flare and dumped it over the side. This time the flaming stick hit its mark. The Worm screeched and slammed its head sidelong into Angel’s ATV, knocking the machine on its side and throwing the boys onto the ground. The Worm dove back into the earth, a low, pained complaint resounding from the hole it left behind.
“You boys okay?” Sam asked, pulling up next to them. Angel waved him off and both boys scrambled to their feet and lifted the 4wheeler; the machine rocking back onto its wheels.
Blake and Noah joined a moment later; Blake leaning out the window of his door. “This isn’t working,” he admitted. “We need another plan and quick cuz that thing won’t be gone for long.”
“I’ll do it,” Dean volunteered, climbing off the back of Sam’s quad.
Sam’s head swung around quickly, his eyes going wide and harsh. “You’ll do what?”
Dean pushed his way past Angel and climbed into the saddle of the ATV and tested the ignition. The machine flared back to life and Dean nodded in approval.
“What the Hell do you think you’re doing, Dean?”
“I’m gonna need this,” Dean answered, tugging forcefully at the sleeve of his little brother’s overshirt. “I lost mine somewhere back that direction.”
“Whatever you’re thinking,” Sam argued, removing his shirt, “it’s a bad idea.” He handed the shirt over anyway and complained when Dean tore one of the sleeves off.
“Here. You better hold on to the rest. You never know, we might need it.”
Ronnie stepped between the brothers, his arms crossed over his narrow chest, and “Stop sidestepping his questions and tell us the plan,” the boy demanded. “Cuz I want in.”
“No. You’re gonna get in that Jeep, you and Cheech over here,” Dean thumbed over his shoulder at Angel who scowled in return, “and you’re gonna hightail it the Hell out of here.”
“I can help.”
“Yes you can, but not here. What I got in mind isn’t gonna kill this sonuvabitch, it’s only gonna scare it away and give us some time to regroup. So…regroup.” He unscrewed the lock-cap on the ATV’s gas tank and began feeding Sam’s sleeve down through the opening.
“You’re crazy,” Ronnie shook his head in dismay.
Dean smirked. “So I’ve been told. Now go. Where’s the nearest place?”
“Town is closest,” Angel answered, moving quickly away from the deathtrap Dean was creating.
Sam shook his head. “No, don’t go there. Head to Massina’s. We don’t wanna draw this thing towards town. Too many innocent people.”
Angel nodded in agreement. He climbed into the Jeep and set to giving Blake directions.
“You too,” Dean said, giving Ronnie a push towards the truck.
“Fine,” the boy answered, stepping up on the running board, “but if you get killed-”
“Kid, I’m too pretty to die.” He turned his eyes on Blake and said, “You give us a five second head start and then you gun it towards the Massina farm, capisce?” Blake nodded.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Sam asked, leaning into Dean’s side.
Dean shrugged nonchalantly, his mouth turning down. “Probably not.” He reached into his jeans pocket and fished out a plain silver zippo, testing the flint. “So much for shore leave, huh Sammy?”
“Yeah,” Sam chuckled, and then turned serious. “Let’s go hunt this bitch.”
Dean’s face lit up in a bright smile. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
He finished his preparations quickly, removing his belt and looping it around the throttle, while Sam kept a steady lookout for the Worm. “Anything?” Dean asked without looking up from his work.
“No. Not yet-wait. Yes. There,” Sam pointed off towards the hills. Dean shielded his eyes from the sun and looked. There in the pale shadows of the mountains, a cloud of orange dust rose and fell in a slow, wide circle like a saucer teetering precariously on a pole. “What is it…pacing?” Sam guessed.
“Waiting. And none too patiently, by the looks of it.” Dean grinned, his cheeks rounding out his face until he looked like an eager fourteen-year-old. “Wanna go give it Hell?”
Sam wrinkled his nose and tucked his chin, hiding his smile. He didn’t like to openly admit that he enjoyed hunting with his brother from time to time, but something new and unusual like this brought his inner geek to the surface fast and his blood was pumping with enthusiasm to get started. He turned the ignition key and the quad leapt to life, equally excited for the hunt.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
“Five seconds, okay?” Dean directed at Blake. The man nodded and put his Jeep into gear and began counting as soon as the Winchesters pulled away.
“It’s on the move,” Sam shouted across to Dean, and sure enough the cloud of dust had stopped its rotation and was moving quickly at the brothers. The Worm chewed through the earth, dirt and rock flying up in its wake. “You know, you’re only gonna get one chance at this,” he warned.
“One chance is all I need, little brother.” Dean pulled the belt tight around the throttle lever and tested its security.
“Eighty feet!”
“Steering is squirrelly. Gonna have t’stay with it. Can’t lose our opportunity.” He pulled the lighter out of his front shirt pocket and thumbed over the flint wheel. The Zippo sparked but didn’t light.
“Forty feet, Dean. Do it now!”
“I know,” Dean growled, striking the flint again and again.
“Dean!”
“Son. Of. A - Got it!” He touched the flame to the ragged end of Sam’s shirt sleeve, making sure the gas-soaked material caught, and then he dove from the vehicle, rolling across the sand.
Sam pulled up beside him, reaching out for Dean’s hand and pulling his brother up and onto the quad behind him. Together they watched the second vehicle veer to the left. “It’s not gonna go for it.”
“It’ll go,” Dean assured confidently. “It’ll go.”
The Worm veered right and zeroed in on the moving target, rising to the surface, its jaws open wide, diving in for the kill just as the ATV ignited in a ball of flames.
“Ye-ah!!!” Dean shouted, pumping his first. He wrapped an arm around his brother and patted Sam’s chest enthusiastically. “Hell yeah! Come on, Let’s go catch up with the others.”
Master Post / Next
“Cahill?” Sam said into the walkie. “Is that you?”
“Yeah. It’s me,’ the man hesitated. “Neither your brother nor Virgil are here yet. And…we saw…we thought we saw…there was this god-awful shriek and then…” Cahill’s swallow was audible, even through the walkie, “we’re almost a mile away, but it looked like some kinda big anaconda.”
“Hijo de la chingada,” Angel muttered. “It’s a minhocão, I swear to God.”
“Is that Angel I can hear cussing?” Dodger broke in, his voice thick with disapproval.
Angel was unapologetic. “You’d cuss too if you’d seen what we saw.”
“We’ll check it out,” Sam interrupted. “Whereabouts were they?”
Cahill gave them directions, and Angel nodded and went to take the lead again. Sam put a hand to his arm. “Hold up,” he said. “We don’t know what we’re heading into here, but we should at least try to be prepared before we go charging in.”
Sam turned to Noah and Blake who were idling behind them in the Jeep. “You guys ever heard anything about anaconda in these parts?”
“Minhocão,” Angel hissed.
Noah shook his head. “Nothing. Not about anaconda or minhocão. Blake got on the radio to the office, reported the death and asked them to look into the local history, myths, legends and so on.”
Sam looked at Blake. “They’re gonna get back to me,” Blake said.
Sam nodded. “You got anything that could be used as a weapon?”
“Got a rifle in the back,” Blake said. “Other than that,” he frowned. “We got some tools and equipment, but nothing that could do any damage to something big enough to rip a man in two.”
“We’ve got a box of flares,” Noah said. “That could be enough to scare it off. Most animals aren’t fond of fire.”
~~~
Ronnie struggled, crying out against the hand clasped firmly over his mouth, but Dean refused to relent. “Stop,” he whispered harshly. “You draw attention to yourself, you’re gonna get us both killed.” The worm moved, knocking the Jeep over, searching for any bits of Virgil it might have missed. Dean swallowed down the bile that rose up in his throat, even as he was, his mind clicked into planning mode. They couldn’t stay. Not if they were to have any hope of surviving. But where could they go? The rocky outcrop that could serve as protection was too far. They’d never make it without some kind of distraction. Any trees near enough to reach were too low to the ground. They’d already seen that thing bring the mass of its body straight out of the ground. If they ran for it, that thing would track them through their vibrations, but he had to get Ronnie to safety. That was the priority. He wondered briefly about the horses. Would Blossom make it back to town alright or was she destined to become worm-fodder? “Okay,” he said in Ronnie’s ear, voice low, “here’s what we’re gonna do. On the count of three, we’re gonna stand up real slow-like.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“You can. I’m gonna help you. Look,” Dean said, pointing towards the wreckage that was Virgil’s Jeep. “It’s preoccupied right now and we’re going to take advantage of that fact. Real slow, we’re just gonna climb to our feet and stand real still, alright?”
Ronnie nodded once and on the mark, stood up with the fluency only youth could allow. He twisted his upper body and offered Dean his hand, and in the next moment, Dean was on his feet too. They stood perfectly still and yet much too close for comfort, waiting with bated breath to see if the worm would notice.
It did not. Instead, it sank, retreating slowly back into the earth.
“It’s over,” Ronnie said on a sigh of relief. “Can we get out of here, now?”
“Nah, kid. It’s not over. Didn’t you ever watch horror movies? The monster always comes back.”
Without taking a step, Dean reached down and retrieved a rock from the ground. He bounced it in his hand, feeling its weight and deciding that it was heavy enough to do the trick. He brought his arm back and baseball threw the stone out across the gaping hole in the ground. It smacked the wrecked Jeep with a twang and then landed with a heavy thud in the loose dirt.
Dean began to count silently on his fingers, one, two…the beast surged up, attacking the Jeep again.
“Jesus Christ,” Ronnie whispered through his shaking hands. “What are we gonna do?”
Dean swept down and picked up a second and third stone from the ground. “I’m going to distract it, and you’re gonna run like hell. That’s what we’re gonna do.”
Ronnie shook his head fervently. “Run for it? Running's not a plan! Running's what you do, once a plan fails! Besides, I can’t leave yo-”
“You can and you will. You run. You don’t stop. You don’t turn around…no matter what you hear. You got me? The most important thing is that we get you to high rocky ground.”
“But I can help. I can fight.”
“Fight what? Did you not see that thing? Listen. Listen to me,” Dean emphasized when Ronnie turned stubbornly away. “You have a family at home to take care of. That is your main concern; getting home to them. Now, I’m gonna lead it away from you and when I tell you to, you pedal your ass as fast as you can, that-a-way,”
Ronnie looked off towards the rocky outcrop and glanced back at Dean, worry creasing his brow.
“You’ll make it. Trust me. I’m gonna keep Big Chief here off of ya, okay? You get to Cahill. He’s up there with Luke. You get there and you hold up with them until help arrives.”
“Okay.”
“And if you find my brother, you tell him to haul ass back here. Quick.” Dean stooped and grabbed up a few more large rocks, carefully lowering them into the sling he’d made of his tshirt. “Alright, you ready? Don’t run until I say.”
“I won’t,” Ronnie promised.
With a nod of approval, Dean lobbed the first rock into the air, landing it on the far side of the hole, several feet beyond the Jeep wreckage. The earth groaned; dirt and rock vibrating around their feet as the creature moved, but it did not breach the surface. Dean cocked his head and frowned.
“I’m going this way,” Dean said, pointing off toward the hole. “Gonna draw it away from you. Every step I take, you’re gonna take one, going that way. We move when it moves. Got it?”
He didn’t wait for an answer; just pulled back and let a series of rocks sail, each one a bit further off. The Worm followed, moving slowly as though it was stalking the deep thuds of rock falling into the rust colored soil. And every time the Worm moved, Dean and Ronnie did too; taking advantage of the distraction. Dean worked his way around the exterior of the hole, putting as much space between himself and Ronnie as he could, because when he put his plan into action, Ronnie was going to need that distance if he was going to get clear of the danger.
Every painfully careful step Dean took was timed just right so that it would coincide with the Worm’s own movements. Every rock thrown moved the Worm further away from Ronnie, until the kid was at the bottom of a short, brush covered hill. It was now or never. Dean gathered his wits, met Ronnie’s worried look and took a deep breath. He raised three fingers into the air and began the countdown. 3 - 2 - “Run!”
Ronnie took off, clambering up and over the gentle slope; out of sight, and Dean ran the opposite direction, making sure his heavy footfalls would draw the beast’s attention towards him and away from the younger man. The Worm rounded immediately; ignoring the rocks Dean was still throwing and instead zeroing in on Dean’s own rhythmic movements. The plan was working; going exactly as planned except for one minor detail. The Worm was following at a surprisingly lazy pace.
It should have made Dean wary. Should have triggered warning bells, but all it did was lull him into a false sense of security. He ran and the Worm stayed on course for twenty feet or better, until suddenly it wasn’t there anymore.
Dean skidded to a stop and waited with his arms and legs outstretched, ready to bolt. He held his breath and looked around him for ‘Worm sign’, but there was none. No earthquake-like tremor underfoot, no vibrating rock, no dirt crumbling away from the raised mound, nothing.
“What are you up to?” he wondered aloud. Somewhere along the line the Worm had stopped pursuing him, and now Dean just couldn’t be sure where it was. He took a tentative step and then another when the first didn’t bring the monster to the surface. Looking around, Dean rolled his eyes. Chloride was to the west. An entire town of innocent people; couldn’t go west. And scrubland spanned the southern horizon, dotted by uneven, rocky soil and knee high brush that would trip him up and slow him down, miles of desert and no safety in sight. “Yeah, this was a bad idea.”
He needed to get himself somewhere safe too; somewhere he could regroup. He’d sent Ronnie to the foothills and Cahill. There he’d be protected. And the hill over which Ronnie had fled was at least 300 yards behind him; a good head start for the kid and a step in the right direction. That was where safety lay-in the rocky foothills of the Cerbat Mountains. Dean put a hand to his brow and wiped at the sheen of sweat that threatened to run into his eyes and squinted back the way he’d just come. Maybe he should just make a run for it? Maybe the Worm had really gone. Maybe it was full. Maybe it had a piece of Virgil stuck in its teeth and wanted to go home and floss before it ate again. Maybe Dean was getting sunstroke. He inclined his head to one side. Why was there suddenly a mist of fine orange powder hovering above the ground?
Dean had barely finished the thought when the earth around him shuddered, causing him to lose his footing. The ground gave way, and he fell, crashing chest first into the rough dirt, his hands scrambling for purchase. He grabbed hold of the nearest tree, tugging himself back onto solid ground just as the Worm rose up from its tunnel. Holding tight to the narrow trunk, Dean yanked his Colt out of his waistband with his free hand, turned and fired the .45 straight into the head of the emerging Worm. It reared up, screeching in pain-or anger, Dean couldn’t tell which-and exposed its softer, more vulnerable throat. Dean fired three more shots and felt satisfaction watching the bullets tear through the unprotected flesh, splattering blood and tissue across the sand.
The sound it made was ear piercing; angry and annoyed, not critically injured like Dean had hoped. It tossed its head from side to side in an attempt to shake off the sting of Dean’s bullets, and Dean was left with no reaction time as the big black head swung down like a club and knocked him end over end across the desert floor.
Get up. Get up. Get up. Get Up! Over and over, Get up! Blood pumped through his ears; pounding out a heavy and insistent rhythm, urging him into action, but Dean couldn’t pull himself up to his feet. He hurt all over and his head swam so much that he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes for fear of the world tipping over into vertigo. He tried to raise his head; tried to push himself up from the ground and do what it was his muddled brain was demanding: Get Up and RUN before that thing eats you! But it was useless. He was useless. He flopped over on his back and groaned, the whole left side of his body alight with pain from the dual collision-the Worm hitting him and then him hitting the rough ground. And when he touched a particularly tender place above his elbow, his hand came away tacky with blood.
Dean felt the earth vibrate beneath him. Get up! He felt sand and dirt and gravel shower lightly around him. Get up! He felt a shadow drape over him, and he raised his uninjured arm to defend against the attack. Immediately his hand was grabbed. Hot and slick and rough, it pulled a yelp out of Dean’s throat, and then pulled him up off his back.
“Dean! Get up!”
“Sammy?” Dean’s eyes popped open and the world spun, but only long enough for Dean to get his bearings. Sam looked down on him from above, and it was then that Dean realized that he was lying on the hill; his feet pointed up and his head pointed down.
Sam tightened his grip and wrapped his long fingers around Dean’s wrist, urging his brother up. “We gotta go, Dean.”
Dean let Sam pull him to his feet and he quickly clambered on to the back of the quad; his chest pressing solidly against his brother’s back as they peeled off, back up the hill. “Where is it?”
“Close,” Sam squinted against the wind and shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun and scanned the area for any sign of the creature. “I scared it off with a flare, but it didn’t go far. Here, take these. We’re probably gonna need them again.” Sam passed a gunny sack over his shoulder.
Dean peered into the bag and found a plethora of handmade flares. He eyed them appreciatively for a moment and then frowned. “These things worked against the Mohave Death Worm?” Dean questioned, skeptically. “I mean, you have seen this thing, right? It’s huge. What’s a little flare gonna do against it?”
“Kept you from getting eaten, didn’t it? Dude, what were you even thinking? Trying to out run it. Reckless.”
“I was trying to get the kid to…Ronnie! Have you seen him?”
“Scrawny kid? Dark hair, about nineteen or so? Angel picked him up.”
“Thank God.” They cleared the hill and were met by a Jeep carrying two men Dean hadn’t seen before, and a second quad that pulled up alongside them with Ronnie riding double behind a boy Dean assumed was Angel. “You alright, kid? Dean called out.
“Yeah. You?”
The ground rumbled beneath them, shaking the moving vehicles noticeably as a fine dust rose up around them.
“I’ll be a helluva lot better when we can get out of this sand encrusted nightmare. Sammy, get us outta here!”
“Get ready,” Sam shouted back at him, pouring the speed on, and then looking back at the younger men and giving Angel a commanding look.
Dean untangled his fingers from the gear rack where he was holding on for dear life, and dug into the bag of flares. Across from him, Ronnie was doing the same. They each removed the caps of several flares and prepared to strike them.
The other ATV gave a sudden lurch, jostling its riders and eliciting twin shouts from the younger men. Ronnie stuck the first flare and dropped it over the side of the vehicle right as the Worm breached the surface. The flare bounced harmlessly off the Worm’s armor plated head.
“Get under it,” Dean yelled, touching the roughly shaved column of his own throat. “The top is protected. Gotta go for the soft underbelly.”
Ronnie stuck a second flare and dumped it over the side. This time the flaming stick hit its mark. The Worm screeched and slammed its head sidelong into Angel’s ATV, knocking the machine on its side and throwing the boys onto the ground. The Worm dove back into the earth, a low, pained complaint resounding from the hole it left behind.
“You boys okay?” Sam asked, pulling up next to them. Angel waved him off and both boys scrambled to their feet and lifted the 4wheeler; the machine rocking back onto its wheels.
Blake and Noah joined a moment later; Blake leaning out the window of his door. “This isn’t working,” he admitted. “We need another plan and quick cuz that thing won’t be gone for long.”
“I’ll do it,” Dean volunteered, climbing off the back of Sam’s quad.
Sam’s head swung around quickly, his eyes going wide and harsh. “You’ll do what?”
Dean pushed his way past Angel and climbed into the saddle of the ATV and tested the ignition. The machine flared back to life and Dean nodded in approval.
“What the Hell do you think you’re doing, Dean?”
“I’m gonna need this,” Dean answered, tugging forcefully at the sleeve of his little brother’s overshirt. “I lost mine somewhere back that direction.”
“Whatever you’re thinking,” Sam argued, removing his shirt, “it’s a bad idea.” He handed the shirt over anyway and complained when Dean tore one of the sleeves off.
“Here. You better hold on to the rest. You never know, we might need it.”
Ronnie stepped between the brothers, his arms crossed over his narrow chest, and “Stop sidestepping his questions and tell us the plan,” the boy demanded. “Cuz I want in.”
“No. You’re gonna get in that Jeep, you and Cheech over here,” Dean thumbed over his shoulder at Angel who scowled in return, “and you’re gonna hightail it the Hell out of here.”
“I can help.”
“Yes you can, but not here. What I got in mind isn’t gonna kill this sonuvabitch, it’s only gonna scare it away and give us some time to regroup. So…regroup.” He unscrewed the lock-cap on the ATV’s gas tank and began feeding Sam’s sleeve down through the opening.
“You’re crazy,” Ronnie shook his head in dismay.
Dean smirked. “So I’ve been told. Now go. Where’s the nearest place?”
“Town is closest,” Angel answered, moving quickly away from the deathtrap Dean was creating.
Sam shook his head. “No, don’t go there. Head to Massina’s. We don’t wanna draw this thing towards town. Too many innocent people.”
Angel nodded in agreement. He climbed into the Jeep and set to giving Blake directions.
“You too,” Dean said, giving Ronnie a push towards the truck.
“Fine,” the boy answered, stepping up on the running board, “but if you get killed-”
“Kid, I’m too pretty to die.” He turned his eyes on Blake and said, “You give us a five second head start and then you gun it towards the Massina farm, capisce?” Blake nodded.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Sam asked, leaning into Dean’s side.
Dean shrugged nonchalantly, his mouth turning down. “Probably not.” He reached into his jeans pocket and fished out a plain silver zippo, testing the flint. “So much for shore leave, huh Sammy?”
“Yeah,” Sam chuckled, and then turned serious. “Let’s go hunt this bitch.”
Dean’s face lit up in a bright smile. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
He finished his preparations quickly, removing his belt and looping it around the throttle, while Sam kept a steady lookout for the Worm. “Anything?” Dean asked without looking up from his work.
“No. Not yet-wait. Yes. There,” Sam pointed off towards the hills. Dean shielded his eyes from the sun and looked. There in the pale shadows of the mountains, a cloud of orange dust rose and fell in a slow, wide circle like a saucer teetering precariously on a pole. “What is it…pacing?” Sam guessed.
“Waiting. And none too patiently, by the looks of it.” Dean grinned, his cheeks rounding out his face until he looked like an eager fourteen-year-old. “Wanna go give it Hell?”
Sam wrinkled his nose and tucked his chin, hiding his smile. He didn’t like to openly admit that he enjoyed hunting with his brother from time to time, but something new and unusual like this brought his inner geek to the surface fast and his blood was pumping with enthusiasm to get started. He turned the ignition key and the quad leapt to life, equally excited for the hunt.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
“Five seconds, okay?” Dean directed at Blake. The man nodded and put his Jeep into gear and began counting as soon as the Winchesters pulled away.
“It’s on the move,” Sam shouted across to Dean, and sure enough the cloud of dust had stopped its rotation and was moving quickly at the brothers. The Worm chewed through the earth, dirt and rock flying up in its wake. “You know, you’re only gonna get one chance at this,” he warned.
“One chance is all I need, little brother.” Dean pulled the belt tight around the throttle lever and tested its security.
“Eighty feet!”
“Steering is squirrelly. Gonna have t’stay with it. Can’t lose our opportunity.” He pulled the lighter out of his front shirt pocket and thumbed over the flint wheel. The Zippo sparked but didn’t light.
“Forty feet, Dean. Do it now!”
“I know,” Dean growled, striking the flint again and again.
“Dean!”
“Son. Of. A - Got it!” He touched the flame to the ragged end of Sam’s shirt sleeve, making sure the gas-soaked material caught, and then he dove from the vehicle, rolling across the sand.
Sam pulled up beside him, reaching out for Dean’s hand and pulling his brother up and onto the quad behind him. Together they watched the second vehicle veer to the left. “It’s not gonna go for it.”
“It’ll go,” Dean assured confidently. “It’ll go.”
The Worm veered right and zeroed in on the moving target, rising to the surface, its jaws open wide, diving in for the kill just as the ATV ignited in a ball of flames.
“Ye-ah!!!” Dean shouted, pumping his first. He wrapped an arm around his brother and patted Sam’s chest enthusiastically. “Hell yeah! Come on, Let’s go catch up with the others.”
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