A/N I wrote part of this while waiting in line at the 2016 Chicago Supernatural Convention. So, blame any mistakes on the appearance of Jared, Jensen, and Mark Sheppard. They distracted me.
.o0o.
Once again Delmonico sat with a beer in one hand, surrounded by bar-flies. This time it was New Mexico, at the only rest stop for over a hundred miles (part bar, restaurant, convenience store, gas station, and motel.) Anyone traveling from Texas to California ended up stopping here, whether it was for a bathroom break or a decent night's sleep in air conditioning. And nearly everyone who stopped ended up telling a few good-old fashioned ghost stories. The proprietor was a cantankerous old piece of leather, but that was all part of his charm.
Another summer break sabbatical, another road trip to collect her stories.
The desert was always a good place to hear ghost stories about lost travelers who never made it home, who died of thirst lost in the heat. The proprietor, named Josiah, refused to be drawn into any discussion about her stock in trade but didn't run her off when she got someone else going. Probably because she was spending a lot of money at his place Josiah introduced her to a couple of his friends: old gummers who loved telling stories. Earl was at least eighty, with white fluff contrasting strongly with his dark tan. Walt was a few years younger than his friend and still had some pepper left in his beard.
Some of the stories were worth recording, mostly ghost stories. She liked the idea of the Old Indian curse on the area that makes it impossible for anything to prosper. Because bad location wasn't explanation enough. Historically, even the local Native American Tribes avoided the area as inhospitable. Minimal water sources ensure minimal population growth. But a good myth often explained what was already happening.
Less interesting from a folklorist's perspective was the was also one where giant, burrowing worms eat people and livestock. According to the gummers, those worms can feel vibrations in the ground from miles away. If you feel one coming, just hold still and they thing can't find you anymore. Delmonico was pretty sure that was the plot from a Kevin Bacon movie.
This latest one was making her wonder if they were serious or pulling her leg. Somewhere, in the back of her head, she heard five monster hunters voting Fact or Crap.
"It had lived around here for as long as I can remember," Earl explained. "Not all the time, but every six or seven years, I think. The Thirsty starts to live up to its name, crawls out of whatever cave or hole it lives in and starts scooping up folks."
"Yes-sir-ee-bob!" Walt agreed. "Generations of poe-lice knowed that the Thirsty was out drinking ever so often, but never could do nothin' to stop it! Alls they can do is bring in them dried out corn husks that used to be people and notify next of kin."
"Dried out corn husks?" Delmonico asked, hoping for some clarification. The teacher part of her had to be reminded that now was not an appropriate time for a grammar lesson.
"Yep," Earl nodded. "Highway patrol or park rangers will start finding dried out mummified corpses lying around. Usually whole families."
"Poe-lice always say 'car trouble' and that them families try walking for help 'fore they die and dry in the desert," Walt snorted in derision. "I'm-a telling you, missy, the only thing causin' them cars any trouble is the Thirsty running 'em off the road!"
"Runs 'em off the road, and drinks down all the water in 'em." Earl added.
"Ever seen it?" Delmonico asked.
"Nah, no'un ever sees it but them's about to get drank." Walt shuddered and threw back what was left of his beer.
"And the Thirsty wouldn't want these two, anyway." Josiah broke into the conversation to hand off another longneck to each of his friends. "They are both too pickled in beer and whiskey to be good drinking water."
All three men had a good laugh about that one.
Josiah added a bottle of water for the lady, having already figured out she wasn't much of a drinker. Or to make her the tastier option for the Thirsty. One of the two. "Its getting late, boys. Either this is your last one, or you two are bunking in the shed again. What'll it be?"
Before either could answer, a car's big engine rumbled up to the front; its tires making the service bell ding in announcement. A car door opened with a loud creak and a man's deep voice boomed out, "Hello! Somebody call for an ambulance! We got some injured people here!"
The door kicked open and Delmonico assumed the owner of the voice strode in, with an unconscious child in his arms. Two adults flung themselves out of the car and glued themselves to the booming-voiced man, or rather the child in his arms; both of them had been crying.
Behind him, a small flock of people began to clown-car out of the vehicle, ten or more of them. A few were limping and most were clearly exhausted; the largest, most mobile of the group was helping them but even he had a cut across his forehead and blood dripping down his face. Delmonico couldn't figure out how so many fit in a vehicle meant for six, but at the moment her attention was elsewhere.
Booming-voice lay the child down and turned to lock eyes with Josiah. "Ambulance?" he demanded.
Josiah was already on the phone, giving the location and asking for just that.
Earl commented, "Son, we're a good forty minutes from the nearest hospital out here."
"Dammit!" Booming-voice swore before setting his shoulders and taking charge of the situation. He tossed a key ring to Earl. "In the trunk of the car there's a bag with a red cross on it. Bring it to me. You," he indicated Walt by simply looking at him hard. "Find me a bottle of distilled water and sugar. Ma'am," he turned his gaze to Delmonico. "Can you help or are you gonna pass out?"
The professor swallowed hard and she was sure she looked a little pale, but she lifted her chin. "I can help. I'll pass out later." Whatever had happened to these people, their rescuer didn't need one more patient to worry about.
Booming-voice smiled (and even amid the emergency she noticed it was a nice smile). "Good enough. This girl is severely dehydrated. I'm going to get an I.V. in her arm. You think you can find something to keep the fluids above her head? Otherwise someone will have to stand there holding it."
She nodded and took her marching orders like everyone else there. Earl was back in no time. Whoever Booming-voice was, he had a fully stocked emergency medicine bag that included needles and tubing. In no time at all, he had an I.V. rigged and the girl's coloring started to improve.
Meanwhile, the other large man had set up a triage. He had dug into the medical bag without asking, showing that the two men were together, and then started putting pressure bandages on people's wounds. He told one person, "That'll need some stitches, but it will hold until you get to a hospital. Just drink your water slowly and let me know if you start feeling dizzy."
Delmonico had the strangest suspicion that she should know him. But it was hard to make out his features under the grime and the gash over his eye that made part of his face swell.
Josiah flitted in and out dispensing bottles of water to all the survivors and he did so without complaint over the extra work or the cost. No desert dweller would refuse water to such a ragged group. Cynically, Delmonico wondered if he was keeping a running tab and would hand the bill over to someone later. She wondered what the state would do if he mailed them the invoice.
After a good ten minutes of calming down, Earl stood to look over the group. The reality that whatever had happened was behind them now filtered through the haze of fear. Mostly, everyone just looked tired. "Well I'll be damned. I will be damned. This is the first time I have ever heard of anyone coming back from being grabbed up by the Thirsty."
Delmonico stared at the old man. The Thirsty? Really? It was probably just a bad car accident, not a desert monster. But then, this was how urban legends got started and grew bigger. No one would ever convince old Earl that there wasn't something that goes bump out in that dry, hot night.
Booming-voice looked up at the old timer. "Is that what the locals called the thing?"
Delmonico's mouth fell open. Why was he encouraging this?
Earl nodded. "Drinks people dry."
Booming-voice snorted, "Not anymore. We ganked the sonnuva bitch."
"I- I still don't understand what happened," a woman admitted shakily. "That...thing, was-?"
The tall one doing triage reached out a hand a lay it on her shoulder, letting the human contact reassure her. "It's gone. Chances are you'll never see anything like that ever again."
The little girl with the I.V. sniffled, "But what if we do?"
Booming-voice knelt down at her side and handed her a business card. "Then you call us and we'll come back and gank that one, too," he told her.
The girl nodded seriously, and handed the card to her parents for safe-keeping.
Booming-voice nodded back, just as serious. A promise made and accepted. Then he stood to his full height to draw the attention of the room. "Okay everyone, we need to clear out of here before the police show up."
"You're leaving?!" a woman shrilled.
"It, the Thirsty, I guess, is very very dead. You're safe now," he reminded her. "Me and my brother don't mix too well with cops. They always try to blame us for what the monster did. So, yeah, we're leaving. But before we go, you all might want to get your stories straight."
"Our stories?" the girl's father demanded.
"Yep. Personally, I'd go with car accident and crazy cannibal cave dwellers; y'know, very 'The Hills Have Eyes' kinda thing. Then you were rescued by a random guy obsessed with finding the truth about his little sister's disappearance," he gestured to himself, "who vanished as soon as you were safe. See, that way, no one locks any of you up for a 72 hour psychiatric evaluation. 'Cuz everyone knows that monsters aren't real."
The father, probably a respectable businessman judging by his clothing choices, seemed taken aback by that line of thought. But he warmed to the idea quickly. No one wanted to be labeled 'crackpot' or have 'institutionalized after severe mental trauma' tacked onto their record.
Booming-voice could obviously follow the man's line of thought and nodded. "If everyone says the same thing, they'll believe you. No one who hasn't seen this crap wants to believe it. So. Car accident. Cannibal cave dwellers. Rescued by handsome and mysterious stranger. Can't find your way back to the caves to show the bodies and never want to again, anyway. Have a nice life."
Booming-voice and Triage nodded to Josiah and vanished out the front door.
Josiah turned to Delmonico."Well Professor, there's a Winchester story for your book."
Delmonico blinked stupidly, "What?"
"The Winchesters," he pointed at the doorway. Outside, a car's big engine turned over. "You wanted to know if I had any good Winchester stories for you. Well, you just got to see one in the making. Sorry I didn't have time to give you three proper introductions."