What's up Doc? Chapter 2
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CHAPTER 2
"This doesn't look good." Sam pointed to flyers stapled to the fence they walked beside. They were 'Missing' posters. "That's Russel Toomey."
"The geek we're going to see?" Dean threw his arms up. "Well that's just awesome."
"Here. This is the address." Sam turned into a well-tended yard and saw a curtain twitch to the side and back as they approached. He was just reaching out to knock as the door opened. An older woman looked up at them. Graying hair hung over her sad face as she peered hopefully at them.
"Are you Detectives? Have you found my boy?" She asked in a watery voice.
Dean dug in his pocket and came out with his fake FBI badge, flashing it at her. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. We haven't found him."
"We need to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind." Sam said in a comforting tone, touched by the pain on this poor mothers' face.
She seemed to deflate as they watched and hung on to the door as if it was the only thing holding her up.
"Ma'am. How long has Russel been missing?" Dean asked and she sighed.
"Five days now." She straightened her dress nervously. "Russ was talking nonsense before he left about that Fort he's always digging around." She smiled sadly up at Dean. "Well, more nonsense than normal. He was saying how there was something going on at that fort and the cops had no clue. That people had gone missing and they didn't know." She wiped a tear from her eye. "I should have listened."
"Did Russel say what he meant?" Sam asked softly and she shook her head.
"No. Just that he was going to check it out and that when he had proof he'd be famous." She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, covering her face. "I'm sorry. That's all I know." She stepped back and closed the door on a sob.
"Okay, now I think I get why Dad wanted us here." Dean tucked his badge away as they left. "We need to get out to that Fort."
"Russel's right. If people are going missing out there, they're not being missed." Sam leaned on the Impala's roof as they reached it. "How do people vanish and no one notices?"
"Yeah and what did this kid find that got him all hot to go back out there?" Dean slid behind the wheel. "I think it's time we paid Fort Atkinson a visit."
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"This was a fort?" Dean pushed the driver side door shut and stood staring at the sod walls in front of them. "Seriously. A fort?" The brown, sod walls of the fort were no more than eight feet high, crumbling in places. The roofs of the few buildings still standing inside peeked over the walls as the sun began to set, bathing everything in an orange glow.
Sam chuckled. "Hey man, it was the 1800's. What do you want?"
"How about walls I can't jump over?" Dean smirked and went to the trunk, opening it and propping the hidden compartment open with a sawed off shotgun. "My money's on ghost." He pulled out salt; shotgun shells filled with rock salt and can of lighter fluid, putting all into the bag he held.
Sam took a silver knife from its clip and a flask of holy water, shotgun and loaded one of his pockets with more salt shells. "Let's not jump to conclusions. We don't know what the hell's going on in there."
"Well let's find out." Dean slammed the trunk shut and grinned.
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Fort Atkinson was eerily quiet as they walked beneath the gate. Dean gave a little jump and slapped the rolled timber overhead. "Wouldn't keep out a raccoon." He commented and Sam shook his head with a laugh. Inside the fort was a large open space. Several buildings surrounded it and the walls of the fort sat behind them. At the far end of the oblong diamond stood the largest building, a two story affair that Sam knew from his research held the Commander's office and infirmary.
"Hey." Dean nudged Sam's elbow and pointed. A beat up little motorcycle stood leaning against the side of the old jail to their left under the overhang of the roof. Sam strode to the bike while Dean raised his shotgun and headed for the Jail's door. He gave Sam a look and a nod and vanished inside. Sam easily translated the look to say 'I'm gonna clear the building. You check the bike and watch my back.' They had always had a gift for having whole conversations with just a glance, something that hadn't changed with Sam's time away at college.
Sam flipped open the saddlebag on the back of the bike. Inside was a bottle of water, a college ID with Russel Toomey's name and picture and a thick folder. This Sam pulled out but rather than look, he tucked it in the back of his jeans and went for the jail door, gun raised.
"Dean?" Sam called as he stepped from the late afternoon heat into the smothering stuffiness of the Jail. Sweat sprang out on his body. The sun streamed through the west facing windows, highlighting waves of dust as he moved through the empty room. There were two doors, one on either side leading to the back of the building and Sam heard nothing. "Dean?"
He moved quickly to the door on his right and led his way through with his gun, nerves on edge at the silence. It was one long room. He could see the other door from where he stood. Three cells lined the wall and Sam sprinted to the center cell. Dean lay sprawled inside on his back, shotgun on the floor beside him.
"Dean!" Sam pulled on the door and growled when it rattled, locked. "Dammit." He searched both rooms quickly but found no sign of a key. Sam knelt by the lock, staring at the gentle rise and fall of his brothers chest as he dug out his lockpicks. "Hang on, Dean."
He slid the picks into the lock and kept glancing about him, wary of attack. Whatever had taken down Dean had done so quickly and silently. He irritably wiped sweat sodden hair out of his eyes and resisted the urge to beat the lock. "Come on. Open." He gave a relieved sob when he heard the tumblers click into place and tore the door open, scrambling to Dean's side.
"Dean?" There was a growing welt high on his forehead over his right eye and as Sam picked his head up gently he felt warm, wet blood in his hair. "Dean." Sam got his head and shoulders into his arms and gave him a shake. "Come on, big brother. Wake up, please?" Every moment Dean didn't wake drove panic deeper into his heart. "Wake up, Dean!" Sam adopted the stern tone their Dad used to use when, as boys, they'd oversleep as kids. "Get your lazy ass out of bed. Wake up! Now!"
Sam closed his eyes, dizzy with relief when Dean finally stirred and moaned softly. "That's it, Dean. Open your eyes."
"Guh…" Dean's eyes blinked open one at a time. Sam swallowed past the lump in his throat. The sun coming in through the high window onto Dean's face made it clear his pupils weren't reacting the way they should. "Sammy?" Dean scrunched his eyes closed, raising a shaking hand to his head. "Wha…"
"I don't know but we're outta here." Sam sat Dean up slowly.
"Whoa…wai…stop." Dean moaned and Sam held him still while Dean went through several shades of green, panting until the nausea passed. "Ok."
Sam scooped Dean's gun from the floor and pressed it into his hands. "Hold on to this." Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's chest and slowly pulled him to his feet. Dean swayed into Sam, his legs threatening to buckle and locked his knees to stay upright.
"Holy crap." Dean groaned, head spinning and was thankful for Sam's steady arms keeping him standing.
"Ok. Here we go. Help me out here." Sam urged Dean into a walk, slowly, carefully. He had his own shotgun firmly in hand, senses alert for whatever had attacked Dean but he wasn't taking any chances.
As they gained the open air again, both brothers jumped. In the building behind them, the cell doors slammed open and closed, clanging loudly in the silence of the Fort.
"I win." Dean said, smiling drunkenly. "Told ya…was a ghost."
Sam snorted and guided his brother back toward the gate as the sky darkened to dusk. As they passed beneath it with the comforting shape of the Impala beyond, it rattled. The gate above them shook. Sam all but carried Dean in a rush the last few feet to safety and it crashed to the ground behind them.
"Starting to get the feeling…we're not wanted." Dean said and gave a shaky laugh.
Sam said nothing, still consumed with worry. He poured Dean into the backseat so he could lay down and then floored it back to town. The fact that Dean said nothing about abusing his baby didn't help Sam's state of mind. A glance in the rearview mirror showed Dean's eyes closed, head lolling and Sam put the gas to the floor.
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"Your brother's going to be fine." The Doctor, who didn't look near old enough to be a Doctor, smiled up at Sam. "He's very lucky to have avoided a skull fracture." The clinic was small but thankfully boasted a portable X-ray.
"Can I see him?" Sam asked and the Doctor nodded.
"Of course. He'll be in and out for a while yet and we'll need to monitor him closely for the next twelve hours but the scans so far are clear." He pushed open a room door and waved Sam in.
"Thanks." Sam smiled and went quickly inside and to the bed. Dean lay pale and still. Sam took his hand and smiled wider as green eyes blinked up at him.
"Dude. You're holding my hand." Dean snickered. His head rolled slowly to the side and he was out again.
"Yep." Sam nodded and gave Dean's hand a comforting pat before pulling over a chair to sit watch on his big brother for a change.
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"Give me…the keys." Dean said again, dangerously and glared at Sam. "Little brother I will hurt you."
Sam chuckled and got in the driver's seat of the Impala. "You can hurt me all you want once your eyes stop crossing. You're concussed. You're not driving."
"Son of a…" Dean kicked the ground and held on to his pounding head; in no way happy that he knew Sam was right. He walked around to the passenger side and got in, glaring daggers at Sam. "You got my baby dirty. How fast were you going?"
Sam revved the engine and eased out of the clinic parking lot. He stared ahead, humor forgotten. "Fast enough to save your life." He said softly.
Dean opened his mouth and then closed it in surprise. "Well hell." He said finally. He had certainly risked life, limb and vehicular damage to save Sam in the past. Hard to be mad at the kid for having done it for him but… "You ever scratch my baby, even to save me…and I'll kill you."
This time Sam laughed. "Always know where your priorities lay."
"Where we going?" Dean asked, shifting his head around to find a comfortable position and failing.
"Motel. No more ghostbusting for you til that concussion's under control." Sam gave him a steely look Dean was used to seeing on his own face.
"Whatever man. Just get me back in one piece so we can go gank that thing." Dean smiled and closed his eyes. Though he tried, he still could not remember what had happened in the jail. His last clear memory was of walking under the gate with Sam and nothing else until Sam had woken him in the cell. That more than anything was making him uncomfortable. He didn't mind that he'd been knocked around but he liked to know the who and the how. The hole in his memory was just plain weird, never mind the Doctor said it was normal. It sucked.
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Russel Toomey screamed. He screamed again and again and begged for it to stop. He wished he had never come back to the fort. What he'd found he still couldn't believe, even as he watched it stalk toward him again, twisted grin on its ethereal face. It was dead, this man that was hurting him. He knew it and argued with himself about it round and round in his head and when the dead thing reached for him again, he screamed again and called for his mother.
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