Five of a Kind 3/6
“Stakeouts suck.”
Adam rolled his eyes. Dean had been grumbling ever since they arrived, even though he got to stay in the car, listening to the police scanner, while Adam and Sam circled Lower Van Norman Lake on foot. They had their cells on speaker, and every fifteen minutes they would shine their flashlights so the others could see. Adam raised his phone to his mouth. “Don’t know what you’re complaining about. You’re not the one out here scoping out Godzilla’s lair.”
“Possible lair,” Sam corrected.
Adam couldn’t see much in the darkness, but he figured Sam was on the rise across the lake.
“Yeah, well, you’re not the ones sitting around with nothing to eat but day old potato chips,” Dean countered petulantly.
Adam shook his head. “Wanna switch places?”
There was a pause. “No.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“It’s been fifteen minutes, smartass. Where’s your light?” Dean griped back.
“I’m talking to you on the phone!”
“You know the rules. Lights!” Dean ordered from the car. He sounded annoyed, but it was probably just an act.
John Winchester had never been around enough for Adam to see his disciplinarian side, but Sam had filled him in, and he knew Dean had inherited that tone of voice and the tendency to give orders. It didn’t bother him too much, even though he knew he was the bottom rung on their little chain of command. At least when they were hunting.
Sighing loudly into his phone, Adam lifted his flashlight and shined it back and forth, lighthouse style. He could see Sam doing the same on the far side of the lake, and Dean flashing the Impala’s headlights.
Adam walked in silence for the next few minutes. It was unnervingly quiet, but the usual collection of night insects were chirping away, so he was reasonably certain there weren’t any large predators out there with them.
He hoped that rule still applied when it came to giant lizard things. Adam shifted his shoulder just to feel the strap on his hunting rifle and reassure himself.
A few yards farther, he stopped and stepped up onto the edge of the concrete retaining wall. The quarter moon peeking through the clouds and the ambient glow of the city lights allowed him to see the smooth, dark surface of the reservoir, and much of the surrounding land. Quietly, Adam sank into a crouch and went still, letting himself blend into the surroundings.
He and Sam were both dressed in black. They didn’t want to stand out too much with the surroundings in case something really was there, and they weren’t keen on being spotted from the nearby highway walking around with loaded weapons. After a long moment, Adam clicked his flashlight back on and swept it low across the ground and along the edge of the water.
There weren’t any tracks even remotely like the ones they’d found at the last scene. In fact, aside from a few human footprints and what might have been a coyote print, the ground was barely disturbed. Still something felt off about their search.
Well, something else felt off about their search. He kept getting the sense that his brothers weren’t very happy about being there, working the job. They were professionals, of course, they took the danger seriously, but Adam kept seeing reluctance on Sam’s face when the other didn’t think he was looking. Dean was harder to judge, but Adam suspected the same was true for him. He knew that his siblings had had a hard time the past few years-and the encounter with that demonic monster back in North Carolina had rattled Sam-but he had hoped after their stint south of the border that getting back into a hunt might invigorate them. The opposite seemed to be happening.
If he’d known how his brothers felt, he wouldn’t have jumped at Bobby’s request so eagerly. So far, he’d kept his observations to himself, but Adam feared that Sam and Dean weren’t seeing things the way he was, and he wasn’t sure where that left them. His phone crackled. He buried his musings and focused on why they were out there.
“Adam?” Sam asked, speaking low. “You okay over there?”
He lifted his phone and kept his voice down, too. “Yeah, I’m here. I just stopped to look around.”
“See something?” Dean cut in, sounding almost hopeful.
“No, that’s just it. I, uh, I don’t know how you guys would describe this, but…I’m just not feeling it here.”
“Not feeling what?” Sam asked.
Adam sighed softly. “You know, that feeling you get on a hunt when you’re getting close to something?”
“Sure it’s not gas?” Dean quipped.
“No, it’s not gas.” Adam smirked. “I’m not Sam.”
“Hey!” Sam protested, offended.
“Whatever it is,” Adam continued quickly, cutting off any further protest, “I’m just not getting it. I think we’re on the wrong track.”
There was a pause. After a minute or so, Sam spoke again. “I gotta tell you, Dean, I think I’m with Adam on this one. Hell, I’m not sure this water’s even deep enough to hide a lizard-dinosaur-whatever.”
Adam heard Dean hum thoughtfully through the speaker. “Well, let’s give it time. Maybe the thing is already out…eating. We might still catch it on the way back, if this is the place.”
Sam and Adam agreed.
“Both of you find a place to settle in and wait. Try to keep out of sight if you can.”
“All right. There’s a big concrete…pier thing over here. I’ll head for that,” Sam called back.
Adam saw a large square drain cutout about twenty feet from where he crouched. “There’s a drain on this side. I’ll be next to it.”
“I’ll…stay here, with the day-old chips,” Dean answered, sounding as though he already regretted his plan.
Adam grinned as he jogged over and knelt down near the drain opening. Settling in, he felt a drop of rain land on his forehead.
“This is going to be a long night...” he groaned softly.
<<<<<< >>>>>>
Granada Hills Youth Recreation Center
Tanisha Russel slammed the door of her Camry and yanked her jacket over her head. Her son Tim had been home from the softball game for three hours, but had only just remembered leaving his book bag in the dugout at the rec. Naturally, his homework for the next day was inside it, and of course, it had to be raining.
“My day can’t get any freakin’ worse!” she yelled to no one. She was alone at the field, and glared in the direction of the bleachers that flanked one of the smaller ball fields. Tim had last been sitting with his friend Alan and a few of the other team members, and all Tanisha knew was that it was at this field, over where the hot dog stand had been set up. All of the vending areas had been folded up and moved out, so maybe that’d make her search a little easier. Hopefully.
Of all days for this to be happening, it had to be today! She had to be at work early in the morning for one of their painfully boring security lectures. At least I can sleep through it….
The bag was nowhere around the bleachers. She could just barely see under them, even with the bright banks of field lights still on overhead. Grumbling, she edged past the fence and walked around behind, trying to steer clear of the deepest of the growing mud puddles. She smirked grimly to herself as she searched. The weatherman had been wrong again. They weren’t supposed to have rain until the weekend, but it had been pouring for almost two hours and showed no sign of letting up.
“Ah ha!” Tanisha cried, spotting the missing bag at last. It was nestled between a fence post and one of the thick metal supports for the scoreboard. She headed for it, stopping only briefly to curse when she stepped into a deep puddle, splashing mud up onto her shoes. Picking the bag up and shaking some water off of it, Tanisha turned and headed back toward the parking lot, only to stop in her tracks.
Five men were standing between her and the car, all wearing some kind of utility coveralls. Tanisha could just make out their faces in the glow of the field lights. They all seemed to be identical. Quintuplets? Never seen any in person. She couldn’t see their expressions clearly, but they were all staring directly at her. She smiled nervously. Maybe they worked there and thought she was stealing something.
“My son left his bag,” she called, struggling to keep her jacket over her head as the wind picked up and rain started hitting her face.
The men didn’t answer, just stared.
Tanisha began feeling uneasy, and slowly started walking in the direction of the parking lot, keeping to her right and trying to put one of the fences or a building between her and the strangely silent men.
She made it about a dozen feet when they started moving toward her. Their appearance seemed to blur, then distort as they moved, before finally changing completely.
For a moment, Tanisha could only stare at what she was seeing, then she screamed and bolted in the opposite direction, away from her car. Then she felt a wave of intense heat pass over her body.
<<<<<< >>>>>>
It had been raining for three hours. Dean flipped on the Impala’s windshield wipers to clear his view, feeling a nagging sense of guilt. He should have called this stakeout off. There was no sense in Sam and Adam getting drenched when clearly no creature-dragon, Gamera, or otherwise-was camping out at the lake. Better to head back to the motel and regroup than sit there and suffer all night.
His siblings hadn’t complained much, even though there was no cover around the lake’s artificial edges. Dean knew they had to be soaked. He’d considered rolling down his window earlier, as an act of solidarity, but he’d just detailed his baby’s interior…they’d understand why he decided against it.
Well, Sam would. Adam might, but Dean wasn’t sure. Better just not to mention it.
He was about to pick up his cell and call his brothers in when the police scanner crackled to life on the passenger seat. Dean almost ignored it, as there had been a lot of accident calls since the rain started, but he listened for a moment to be sure.
“Calling any unit in the Granada Hills area. We have a reported 904 at the rec center at 13100 Balboa Boulevard. Repeat, we have report of 904 at the rec at 13100 Balboa. Respond.”
904. Dean frowned. Fire, I think.
Sam’s voice filtered through the cell phone speaker, interrupting his thoughts. “Hey, Dean, I’m thinking we should call it a night. Temp’s starting to drop.”
Dean smiled and lifted the phone to reply when the scanner crackled again.
“Base, this is Ramirez. I’m 10-97 at the rec. Looks like a 10-53. Send a bus.”
Dean frowned. “10-53” sounded familiar. They’d spent enough time around cops-and impersonating them-so a few of the codes stood out.
“Dean? You there?” Sam called again.
“He’s probably rocking out to Survivor, again.” Adam chimed in teasingly.
“Wait until you catch him lip-synching to Air Supply, then we’ll talk,” Sam countered.
Dean raised an eyebrow at that. It had only been that one time. Well, Sam had only caught him that one time. But he set aside his retort. “Hang on, guys.”
“Ramirez, base. Say again.”
“Base, we need a bus at the rec. One victim. Died in the fire-explosion, not sure what. Real mess out here.”
“Copy, Ramirez. Units en route.”
Dean pulled the road map from the backseat and checked for Balboa Boulevard, then lifted his cell phone. “Hey, guys, get back to the car. We might have something.”
It took only two minutes for Sam and Adam to come jogging his way from opposite sides of the reservoir. Dean rolled down his window as they approached. Sam stepped up to the door and held his jacket over his head, shielding them some from the rain. “What’s up?”
“Scanner picked up a police call,” Dean explained. “Someone was killed a few streets over. Burned. The cop couldn’t explain what caused it.”
Adam cast a glance over his shoulder warily. “You think it’s our lizard?”
“Only one way to find out,” Sam replied, already headed for the passenger-side door.
Dean held up his left hand to stop his brother.
“Hey, Sam? Sam!” He crooked his thumb, pointing over his shoulder toward the trunk. “Can you get the….?”
Sam stared blankly at him for a moment, then realization dawned on his face. “Seriously?”
“Well…” Dean shrugged.
“It’s raining, Dean!”
“I know, but….”
Sam sighed with aggravation. “Oh, my God. Adam, will you get those camping tarps out of the trunk? So we can cover the seats before we sit down.”
Adam’s gaze shifted from Sam to Dean, eyes narrowing. “Oh, nice man.”
Dean cringed. “I’m sorry! She’s clean, and you guys are really wet…”
With a groan, Adam turned and made for the rear of the car, shaking his hands in Dean’s direction and sending water spraying at his oldest brother. “You’re unbelievable, Dean.”
Dean turned his head to track Adam’s retreat. He grinned meekly. “That’s what she said.”
Sam and Adam replied together. “Shut up!”
<<<<<< >>>>>>
After dropping his brothers off at the motel room to dry off and warm up, Dean threw on his black suit and tie, grabbed his FBI badge, and headed for the new crime scene for a little recon. The police seemed to be writing the death off as accidental, judging by the reports they’d been listening to over the scanner. Security probably wouldn’t be too tight.
Indeed, when he turned the Impala into the rec center’s expansive parking lot, Dean saw only two police cruisers, an ambulance, and a fire engine. The lot ran the considerable length of the center’s ballfields, and the rain had let up, so he parked a discreet distance away and ambled up to the lines of yellow tape surrounding an area around the fence line. An officer frowned at him, but waved him through upon seeing his badge. A sergeant turned and intercepted him as he headed for the large, burned-out area near one of the squat, concrete buildings.
“Can I help you?”
Dean flashed his ID again. “Yeah, I’m Agent Welnick, FBI. Are you Sergeant…Ramirez?”
The cop looked at him askance. “Yeah.”
Dean smiled broadly. “Good, I was told to ask for you. My supervisor sent me out to lend a hand with this…well, whatever it is.”
Ramirez glanced over at the body, then back at Dean. “What’s the Bureau want with an accidental burning?”
“Uh, that’s a good question.” Dean stalled, thinking on his feet.
Ramirez waited expectantly.
Dean put on his most comradely smile. “Look, total honesty?”
Ramirez raised his eyebrows and nodded.
“I have no idea why I’m out here. We got a new boss at the Field Office, came in three weeks ago. He’s got his nose into everything. I think he’s bucking for promotion. He sent me out here to see what was goin’ on.”
Ramirez studied him a moment, then shrugged. “Sounds like a pain in the ass.”
Dean chuckled, hiding his relief at the man’s acceptance. “You have no idea, man. He’s had us running our asses off ever since he got here.”
Ramirez snorted, motioning Dean to follow him to the scorched area. “I know what that’s like. We do the running, they sit on their asses and take the credit.”
Grunting in agreement, Dean nodded ahead. “I tell ya, as soon as a spot at Homeland Security comes open, I am outta there! So, what is all this?”
Ramirez shrugged again, stopping in front of a white sheet and pulling it up so Dean could see. A charred, almost unrecognizably human body rested on the ground. What was left of it, in any case. Most of the torso was missing, as was part of one arm and a foot.
“Eh, near as we can tell, a woman came out here, decided to have a smoke.” Ramirez pointed to a burned, partially melted woman’s purse. Among the spilled contents was a blackened pack of Morley’s. Then he guided Dean’s gaze up and past the body, where a mangled steel propane tank rested against the concrete wall of the concession building, hooked into what was left of a grill. “Apparently she didn’t notice the tank. Probably didn’t even know what hit her.”
“Mmm.” Dean grimaced. “Sucks to be her. She the only one?”
“So far as we can tell.”
Dean nodded, taking in the carnage. The body looked very similar to the ones they’d looked over in the morgue. He noticed injuries-the same kinds as on the other victims-along the woman’s midsection. Blood was splattered along the ground around her, coloring several of the deep, muddy puddles left by the rain.
Turning back to Ramirez, Dean gave a final nod. “All right. I’ve seen enough. I don’t think this is anything we need to get involved with.”
Ramirez smirked. “Good. Every time you guys come in, my boss starts a pissing contest with the Bureau.”
Dean laughed along with him, good-naturedly. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’m going to walk around so I can tell my boss I checked everything.”
“That’s fine. We’re just on clean-up now. Knock yourself out.” Ramirez waved him off.
Dean started moving down the fence line to the outskirts of the burn zone.
Ramirez called out again. “And, hey, good luck with that job hunt.”
Dean laughed. “Thank you!” He walked on, moving away from the cops. Ramirez and the others went back to work and seemed to ignore him entirely.
He walked toward the larger of the sports fields, at the eastern side of the massive lot. Mud mixed with grass, forming large puddles and marshy green land. He stuck to the grassy areas so as not to get his shoes filthy.
Dean was about to head back to the Impala when he noticed a depression in the mud where dirt met grass. Stepping over to it, with a cautious glance to make sure he wasn’t being watched-he wasn’t-Dean took a closer look. The depression was another huge, reptilian footprint. Turning to look in the direction the toes were pointing, he saw another print, several feet farther into the grass. The ground was soft from the soaking rain.
“Well, well, well…” Dean mused, following in the direction of the tracks. A regular pattern of footprints trailed along the grass and mud, roughly parallel to the edge of the asphalt parking lot. He counted a dozen clear prints and at least half as many more, indistinct ones. Judging by the gait, he guessed that whatever it was had two feet.
And a really long stride. The thing must be huge!
“Definitely Godzilla, not Gamera,” Dean muttered to himself. He was a considerable distance from the crime scene by then. It seemed the creature had left in that direction. Between the prints, he saw dark splotches of color, something staining the mud and grass. He knelt and yanked a long clump of weeds out of the ground. The stalks were stained with the same substance.
One thing any hunter worth his salt could spot-no matter the species-was blood. Dean looked back, and considered what Ramirez had shown him. The explosion of the propane tank might have injured…whatever it was they were hunting. He stood and continued walking.
If it bled, they could kill it.
Following along the same line, Dean soon came to the far end of the larger ball field. The parking lot ended with a worn, solid wood fence about ten more yards away. He crossed over the asphalt to the end of the wooden fence, and he stopped along a row of low bushes. In one place, the bushes were flattened and spread apart, and more blood stains dotted the asphalt.
Looking up beyond the glow of the field lights and in the darkness beyond, Dean could see a huge open area, and beyond that, a mass of girders and piping. It was hard to see in the gloom, but it looked like a water treatment plant.
Dean chewed his lower lip, taking in the sight. Water treatment… He turned and headed briskly back toward the Impala. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved his phone and pulled up the contacts list.
“Hey, Sammy,” Dean began as soon as the call connected. “I think we might have something here.”
TBC