Welcome to the Jungle
Chapter Two
The flashlight cast eerie shadows in the trees, creating movement where there wasn't any, making the shadows seem even darker than they were. Dean plowed into the stand of trees, not paying attention to anything but the soft sound of his brother's ragged breathing. He'd zeroed in on the sound and was crashing through the bushes to reach his brother. "Sam!" he called again. His brother's comment that he was in trouble had inspired blind panic in Dean. Sam knew better than to say something like that unless it was serious, and judging from the pained gasps filtering through the dark trees, it was serious. "Sam!"
"Here."
Dean pointed the flashlight in the direction of his brother's voice and froze for half a second as the light played over Sam. His brother was pressed against a large boulder, what looked like a small tree casting a dark stripe across Sam's body. Dean ran. Sam's hands were around the sapling, arms straining to keep it from driving the sharpened point deeper into his shoulder.
"Hang on," Dean said, dropping the flashlight.
"Yeah," Sam said, arms visibly straining and sweat pouring from his face. Blood was welling up where the tree was pressing into his body.
Dean grabbed the tree and tried to pull it out of Sam's shoulder. It moved a little and Sam cried out in pain. "Okay, let me try something different. As soon as it moves, you roll." Sam nodded and Dean crouched down and got under the tree. "Ready? One, two, three." He pushed up and the sapling moved. Sam rolled to the side. Dean dropped out from under the tree and the sapling crashed into the rock with terrifying force.
Dean grabbed Sam and turned him over, reaching for the flashlight with one hand. "Sam?" he said as he brought the light to bear on Sam's shoulder. "Not bad, Sammy."
"You always say that," Sam said with a pained smile.
"Let's get you back to camp." Dean hauled his brother up and pulled his arm over his shoulder. He felt Sam take a breath to protest the extra help. "Sam?" Dean said sternly and his brother's breath was exhaled in a soft sigh. Dean maneuvered them back into the shelter and set Sam down beside the fire before grabbing the first-aid kit. Sam had pulled his jacket and shirt off by the time Dean turned back to him.
It was an ugly wound. It could have been a lot worse. Dean shone the light to get a better look. Bits of bark and dirt had been pressed deep into the hole. He smiled at Sam. His brother smiled back and shook his head. Okay, I won't say it's nothing, Sammy. "I think I should wash it out, I'm going to boil some water." Dean pulled out a pot and poured water into the pan and put it in the fire. He waited for it to boil before adding some salt.
"This will sting, right?" Sam said with a half smile.
"That's what they always say at the ER. This will sting." Dean pulled a sterile sponge out of the first-aid kit. "Remember that time you were, what, about fifteen and you had that stick through your foot?"
Sam closed his eyes as Dean started to pour the water over the wound. "And you tried to pull it out, but it hurt and I couldn't hold still."
"Yeah, and so I took you to that clinic next to the hotel." Dean continued pouring the water into the wound, hoping to float out all the dirt and bark. Sam was trembling, his teeth were clenched. "Sorry."
"It's okay," Sam said, grinding his teeth together. "They took me back to the exam room and the doctor came in with what looked like pliers, said it would sting a little and started tugging on the stick. Damn."
"Sorry," Dean repeated. "Almost done."
Sam nodded and smiled a little. "I was trying not to scream…"
"You were screaming."
"I was trying not to scream and the doctor was pulling on the thing and you were holding me down."
"I was trying not to deck the doc." Dean said as he poured the last of the water over the wound and began dabbing at it with the sponge.
"Yeah." Sam sighed as Dean finished with the water. "But he got it out."
"He did," Dean said, absently, remembering trying to hold Sam down as a particularly brutal doctor pulled the stick from his brother's foot. "Just pulled it right out." Without numbing the foot or anything.
"I might have screamed a little." Sam smiled at him.
"I might have hit the doctor a little." Dean smiled back.
"How bad is it?" Sam asked.
"Not as bad as I thought," Dean said truthfully.
"Bad?" Sam craned his neck trying to get a good look at the wound in his shoulder.
"A little. It's deep." Dean carefully bandaged the wound. "I think I got everything out of it, Sammy."
"Thanks," Sam leaned back against the rock wall with a sigh. Dean got up and dug a shirt out of Sam's pack and brought it back to his brother. Sam smiled as he tried to get it on, his left arm wasn't working well and Dean helped him in the end. After Sam's jacket was tucked around him Dean handed him more Tylenol.
"I'm going to make some coffee," Dean said, grabbing the coffee pot. His hands were shaking. Close, twice today. Too damn close. What the hell is going on? "Do you want to lie down in the tent?" Dean asked, glancing over at Sam.
"Can I just sleep by the fire with you?" Sam said softly. Dean looked up at his brother, Sam's face was pale, he was frowning a little in pain.
"Sure, let me get your stuff." Dean dragged the sleeping bag out and put the pad down by the fire before helping Sam get settled. After he was done he poured them both coffee, adding hot cocoa to the cups before sitting down beside Sam. "Do you need something more for pain?" Dean was hesitant about giving his brother something stronger than just the Tylenol. He had some narcotics in the kit and the shoulder had to hurt, but there was still the earlier head wound to worry about.
"Not right now," Sam said. "This is good."
"Camp mocha," Dean said with a smile. "My own invention."
"I'm sure a lot of people add hot chocolate to their coffee, Dean," Sam chided.
"Maybe, but I'm taking credit for it." Dean grinned as he leaned against the wall. The .45 was laying beside his right hand and the rifle was across his lap.
"Next time you should come with me." Sam's voice was rueful. "Privacy or not."
"What happened?" Dean asked after a long moment of silence.
"I was walking out of there and something snagged my foot. I tugged on it about the same instant I thought it could be a trap. Whatever it was snapped down on me. I tried to hold it off."
"Yeah," Dean sighed. "So back to the question—sasquatches learned to do that when?"
"I don't think they set traps Dean. That's more like a, I don't know, a wendigo? But no…" Sam was thoughtful. "Hunters? Survivalists? I think we are back to that."
"But why? Some fruitcake is out booby trapping the wilderness?"
"Where people are disappearing?" Sam added.
"You think it's related?" Dean looked at his brother. "Hunting the sasquatch?"
Sam nodded slowly. "Could be. The trap I triggered earlier, if you fell, like I did, it wasn't fatal. This one too, if you were fairly tall…" He ginned at Dean. "It wounded, it would have pinned me, but it wouldn't have killed me. Of course if I were shorter…"
"Ha, ha, Sammy." Dean nudged him carefully with his shoulder. "So you think they are traps to wound or maim, but not to kill for some reason?"
"Leave the sasquatch alive?" Sam said. Dean could see the wheels turning in his brother's mind as he thought about it. "Could be."
"Maybe they are trying to protect themselves…or…stop them from whatever they are doing? You know jungle traps, like in 'The Green Berets' or something."
"Yeah." Sam sighed. "I think I need to sleep."
"Yep." Dean took the cup from his brother's hand. Sam lay down and was asleep before Dean finished his coffee.
He poured himself another cup and edged out of the fire light a little, letting his eyes adjust to the dark beyond their shelter. Dean had to admit to himself he was happy Sam had decided to sleep by the fire, he could keep an eye on him better there. A branch snapped in the darkness. Dean held his breath, listening. Something was moving through the trees where Sam had been hurt. A shift in the wind brought a musky smell to Dean. Deer, or maybe elk. Definitely animal, definitely moving on four legs. He walked to the edge of the shelter, down by the pictographs, to look out into the dark. Dean caught the movement as the deer walked through the trees, ghosting silently along except for that one snapped twig.
Dean walked back to the fire, threw another branch on it and checked on Sam. His brother was shivering a little. Dean unzipped his sleeping bag and tossed it over Sam before pacing back to the far side if the shelter again. It's going to be a long night. What's going on? Crazy sasquatch hunters? That's all I need. Amateurs. He sighed. They can screw something up faster than anything. Dean walked back to the other side, checked on Sam and poured the last of the coffee into his cup. After a final trip around the shelter he sat down by Sam, close enough to benefit from the warmth of the fire, far enough away to let his eyes stay adjusted to the dark.
Dean sighed and looked over at his brother. The fire was lighting Sam's face, Dean could see that his cheeks were a little red. From the fire, I hope. Not fever. It should be too early for fever. As he watched the light playing on his brother's face he smiled. It was a gentle, affectionate smile, one he would never show his brother when he was awake. He would tease me about the chick flick look for, hmm, knowing Sammy? The rest of my life and beyond.
He got up silently and started another pot of coffee, as it cooked on the fire he finished off the hash. The smell of coffee blended with the scent of the forest and he sighed. I would never admit this to anyone, but I missed this. I missed being out in the woods. I've hated camping for so long because of…He stopped himself, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. I almost lost Sam. I blamed camping. Then with the wendigo, well that didn't go well. The coffee had finished and he poured another cup for himself before sitting back down beside his brother. He pulled the sleeping bag a little more over Sam's shoulder, brushing his brother's forehead to make sure he wasn't overly warm.
Dean leaned against the rock and looked out into the night. He saw something else moving out there, small. A sudden yip identified the creature. Coyote. Sipping his coffee he let the quiet fill him, listening to the soft sounds of the night and the wind whispering through the leafless aspen trees sounding like running water. Dean sighed. Yep, missed this. Hated this. He looked over at Sam. Traps. Who and why? Dean shifted, his hand dropping to the gun lying beside him.
The night gradually got quieter as the creatures of evening disappeared and the creatures of the dark of night had not yet begun to hunt. Off in the distance Dean heard an odd coughing bark. Dredging up a memory, he thought it might be a bear. Something about the grunting cough sounded familiar.
He froze. He'd heard it before.
Past
The fire was popping and cracking. The sun had set, but the forest wasn't dark yet, the light bark of the aspen and cottonwoods seemed brighter in the evening light. The wind was blowing gently and over the sounds of the wind, the merry babbling of a stream filled the small campsite. Dean was humming as he cooked dinner. Sam had wandered down to the stream to fill the coffee pot. Dean kept an eye on his brother. At nearly seventeen Sam had still not quite learned to be graceful with his height, and Dean had to keep himself from laughing as his brother caught a large foot on a root on his way back to camp.
"Didn't spill, good job, Sammy," he grinned at his brother, knowing what was coming.
"Sam. It's Sam, Dean."
"Right." Dean checked the trout in the pan. "Dinner's served, Sammy." His brother rolled his eyes. He put the food on plates and sat down beside Sam, their backs against a large fallen tree. Dean had chosen the site partially because of the tree, the prevailing wind blew from that direction and the huge trunk blocked some of the breeze.
"When do we meet up with dad?" Sam asked a little wistfully.
"Still a couple of days." Dean smiled. He was enjoying the freedom the trip was providing and was not looking forward to meeting up with their father just yet either. "I've missed camping."
"Me, too." Sam smiled at him. "Although I found out in school? Most people go camping just to camp."
"Not to hunt?" Dean grinned.
"Well, at least not to hunt what we hunt."
"We aren't hunting that hard, Sam." It was true. Over the last five days he and his brother had spent most of their time fishing and wandering along the trails looking for signs of what had caused the disappearance of eight hikers, but John had taken the area where most of the disappearances had occurred and sent Sam and Dean up a smaller valley.
"We aren't are we?" Sam put his empty plate down.
"Nope." Dean grabbed his brother's plate and got them each more food. "Tomorrow I thought we'd head up that side trail we spotted today."
"Sounds good. I'll take first watch tonight." Sam always volunteered, even though he knew he had no choice. Dean took the graveyard watch. Sam had bucked against the arrangements when they first started out, but he was resigned to the assignment now.
"Good." Dean stood and stretched. "I'll be back." He walked out of camp and a little upwind. After he had finished he wandered down to the stream to rinse his hands. Evening was fading into night, the long twilight nearly gone. A deer looked at him curiously from the other side of the stream. Dean smiled, waiting for it to catch his scent and run. He could hear a coyote yipping off to his left, the sound joined by another as they started their evening hunt.
As he stood to head back to camp something caught his eye. A large footprint was pressed into the dried mud by the stream. He pulled his flashlight out of his pocket to get a better look at it. "Sam?"
"Yeah?" his brother answered immediately.
"You see this footprint down here?" Dean called back.
He heard Sam approaching. "What footprint?" Sam stopped beside him. "No, I missed that. I was a little further upstream."
"What do you think? Sasquatch?"
"It's big enough," Sam said, squatting down to get a better look at it.
"Unless you were running barefoot through the mud."
"Ha, ha, Dean." Sam stood. "Could that be what's taking the hikers?"
"Maybe. Whatever it is, we take extra pains with watch tonight. No dozing," he said sternly as they walked back to the camp.
"I don't. I read," Sam snapped.
"Right. At least you have the decency to carry your own books." Dean looked at him. "You going to be okay?"
"I don't think tonight will be different from the last five, Dean." Sam dug his book out of his pack and settled down beside the fire with the shotgun beside him.
"Wake me at one." Dean crawled into the tent and was asleep before his brother answered.
"Dean." Sam was shaking him.
"Go away, not time yet," he muttered.
"I heard something." The urgency in Sam's voice pulled Dean into instant awareness.
"What?" he said, sitting up and grabbing his gun, knowing Sam wouldn't wake him on a whim.
"Something's moving around out there." Sam backed out of the tent, Dean followed. "Something on two legs," he finished.
As he stood up from the tent he heard it. Something—someone he amended—was walking in the stand of cottonwoods by the street. The heavy footfalls were loud in the silence of the dark. Dean moved towards the sound, aware of Sam following. He turned to motion his brother back towards camp when Sam suddenly dove towards him. Dean hit the ground as a large thunk sounded over his head.
"What the hell, Sammy?" Dean shoved at his brother.
Sam rolled off him. "Are you okay?" Sam looked a little wild, fear making his face a white oval in the light of the fire.
"Sam?" Dean looked over his brother's shoulder. "What's that?"
"I saw it coming," Sam said.
Dean stood and walked to the log and looked at the…What is that? A spear? It looks like a spear…stuck in the log. "Thanks." He looked at his brother. Sam was visibly shaking. "I'm okay, Sam." Whatever had been in the trees was gone. Dean stepped out of the camp and stood listening for a long time, waiting to hear the snap of a branch or the intake of a breath. Nothing. The forest was silent except for the stream and an owl calling from a tree overhead. Dean walked back to the fire.
"I'm not going back to sleep after that, why don't you turn in?" Dean sat down at the edge of the firelight.
"I'll sleep out here, if it's okay," Sam said, dragging his sleeping bag to the fire.
"Sure," Dean said. Sam was snoring softly several minutes later. Dean sat and listened to the sounds of the night. The peace of the forest had stilled the shaking of his hands. What the hell is going on? Footprints and now spears? Maybe it's just some freak out hunting in the woods. "The Most Dangerous Game" or some shit like that. Great, all we need. Tomorrow we head out early. He'd been sitting by the fire for an hour when he heard something in the distance. It had a coughing sound, a bark to it. He thought it must be the hunting call of some animal, out in the night. He'd never heard it before.
Dawn finally came. Dean was dozing by the fire as the sun broke over the trees. Sam stirred beside him and Dean snapped his eyes open. "I'm awake," he said.
"Right," his brother said as he sat up.
"Let's get moving early, Sammy."
"Sam."
"I'll make coffee." Dean stood and headed towards the stream. There were new footprints on the path to the stream. The large footprint was joined by another nearly as big. Dean looked along the line of prints. After filling the pot he turned back towards camp. The footprints led into the stand of trees. How long were they out there? He was beginning to feel a little knot of tension at the back of his neck. Something was going on, something he didn't like.
Sam had bacon frying by the time he got back. Dean made coffee and they ate together in companionable silence. They broke camp half an hour later, packing up and heading up the valley. Dean noticed several of the large footprints as they walked. By noon the footprints had disappeared and the sense of tension had dissipated and he was amusing himself by teasing his brother. Sam was playing along and they were laughing as they moved along the trail.
Dean crested a small hill when a sound behind him stopped him dead in his tracks. He had turned and was running back towards Sam before his brain caught up with his body. "Sam!" The trail was empty. "SAM!"
The forest was quiet. No one answered the frantic call.
"SAMMY!"
Present
Sam shifted restlessly in his sleep. Dean reached over and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. Sam sighed. The first streaks of light were beginning to touch the eastern sky. Whatever made the barking cough hadn't come closer in the night and Dean had finally relaxed sometime about four. He'd been dozing off and on since then. Occasionally waking to check on Sam, always alert for an unfamiliar sound. He finally got up as the sun started climbing in the sky.
"Dean?"
"Hey, Sam, how're you feeling?" Dean said as he made coffee.
Sam sat up carefully. "My head hurts and my shoulder's a little sore."
"Yeah…breakfast?"
"Okay." Sam looked a little sheepish.
"What?"
"I need to, um…"
Dean grinned and picked up the rifle. "I'll be discreet," he said, laughing as Sam blushed. He followed his brother back towards the trees, looking for any sign of who had set the trap. After Sam gave him the all clear they walked back to where Sam had been caught the night before. Sam's face was white as he looked at the rock where he'd been pinned.
"Dean…"
"Not good, is it?" Dean asked with what he hoped was a grin. It wasn't working well. Seeing the trap cause bile to rise in his throat as he considered how close he'd come to losing his brother. Sam might be right, it might have been meant to maim and not kill, but…How many more are there?
Sam was examining what was left of the tree. "It worked like a spring-loaded spear, almost." He turned to Dean. "Felt like it, too."
"Not funny." Dean said, grabbing his brother's arm and steering him back towards the campsite. "I was planning on staying here today and heading back tomorrow, but I think we should head back today, what do you think?" Dean said without taking a breath. Sam looked at him with a little frown. Just say you think we should go too, Sam. Come on.
"I think we should report the traps as soon as we can," Sam said, watching him.
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
"I'm sure that's what you thought," Sam said with a grin.
"What?"
"Nothing." Sam carefully lowered himself down by the fire. Dean watched him closely, noting the stiffness in his brother's movements. "I'm okay," Sam huffed.
"Right." Dean made breakfast and checked on the wounds in Sam's shoulder and the back of his head before breaking camp. Dean packed everything he could into his pack, shifting lightweight items to Sam's.
"I can carry my pack, Dean."
"I know, Sam, just making it a little easier." Dean helped Sam slide the pack over his right shoulder. Sam reached for the other strap, grimaced and let it fall back. "Ready?" Dean swung his pack up. The Henry Rifle was in his hand. For the first time since they'd come into the woods he'd left it assembled rather than demonstrating to Sam the waterproof nature of the gun. He handed Sam a walkie talkie.
"Do I really need this?" Sam said with a long suffering sigh.
"Of course you do, what're you thinking?" Dean said with a smirk. Sam rolled his eyes and looked at him. Dean waited until, with another sigh, Sam stepped in front of him.
They were heading down the trail they had come up the day before. The sun was out, there were birds in the trees, happily chirping as they chased bugs. The good mood that had been with Dean since they had come out into the forest began to reassert itself. He was humming a little under his breath as he walked down the trail. He saw Sam shaking his head. "What?"
"I thought you hated camping."
"I do." Dean laughed.
"I think you're going insane," Sam grumbled, then stopped. "What's that?" He pointed off the trail into a stand of trees.
Dean looked in the direction Sam was pointing. Something was lying off the trail. His brother started walking towards it before Dean could caution him to stop. He caught up with Sam and grabbed his arm. "Wait." Sam looked down at him with a frown. "Together."
Sam nodded and they moved towards the object lying under the trees. Sam had stopped and was looking down at it when Dean stopped beside him. It was a mound of blood and fur, a large hand lay upturned near the body, one huge foot was still attached to a butchered leg. Most of the flesh was missing from the creature, just the single hand, a foot and the massive head.
"Sasquatch?" Sam asked quietly.
"What's left of one, I think." Dean squatted down to get a better look at the body. "Butchered."
"Uh huh."
"No, I mean butchered, like an animal. Like for food," Dean said, standing and looking at his brother. Sam looked a little green. "Sammy?"
"Sorry, I…Sorry…" Sam dropped the pack and bolted away from the body. Dean heard him retching a few moments later. That's got to suck, head wound, shoulder wound, dead stinking body. Not good with breakfast.
Dean scouted around the body. There were several footprints leading away from the body. Two were bare feet, one large print looked like the bottom of a shoe, no tread, just the print of a foot that had been covered in something. He walked back over to the body, taking a closer look at it. The creature had definitely been butchered. He kicked it over. The remains of a wooden stake or spear were still lodged in the shoulder. Got caught in a trap. Okay, not sasquatches setting the traps. Unless it's a cannibal sasquatch. Hannibal the Cannibal Sasquatch? Probably not.
"Sam?" He stood up and glanced over in the direction Sam had run. He could hear the river. "Sam?" he called louder. "Sam!" He dropped his pack and grabbed the rifle, moving in the direction Sam had gone. "Sammy!"
"I'm okay," Sam said from off to his right. Dean veered in that direction and came to the top of a small incline, a game trail led down towards the river.
"Sam, are you down there?"
"Yeah, I tripped." His voice sounded a little odd to Dean. "I might have found another trap."
Dean ran down the hill a little faster than was safe. He had a round in the chamber of the gun and his finger hovering over the safety as he ran. "Sam?"
"Over here," Sam's voice sounded really off. The tone panicked Dean.
"Coming."
"I feel weird."
Dean broke through the bushes at the bottom of the trail. Oh my god. "Don't move."
"What?"
"Don't move."
To Be Continued
