~o0o~
Found
Chapter Nine
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Dean struggled on, wading through the resistance of the chest deep water, one slow motion step at a time. His right boot landed on something soft and slippery, instead of the expected sucking mud or grasping roots. The slippery something, understandably, was not too happy and it shot off at speed. Dean lost his footing and went down, submerged in the brown water for the second time that night. He came up spluttering and choking and cursing, emerging to the sound of a young girl shrieking.
He caught hold of a creeper and pulled himself upright. The girl in the sundress was standing on the fallen trunk of a large tree. In the gloom of the swamp her transparent figure emitted a pale glow, the tangle of twigs and leaves behind her visible through the pattern of her dress. Dean was almost relieved to see her. Here at least was something he was used to dealing with, something supernatural.
She shrieked again, the unearthly wailing of the dead, pointing down into the water where something large thrashed.
Dean caught a glimpse of a bulbous snout, a flash of a denim covered leg. His heart clenched. He surged forward, dragging a branch free of the tangle of debris around the fallen trunk. He smashed it at the water; there was a sinuous, powerful movement beneath the surface that flicked him aside as though he weighed no more than a floating leaf. He staggered backwards, his legs floating up out of his control. By the time he regained his feet, his own floundering was the only movement in the water.
"Sam! Sam!"
He waded around, groping frantically beneath the surface, lurching through the pattern of moonlight and shadow. There was nothing. No feel of cloth or limbs. Just water and roots. The swamp was eerily silent around him, everything momentarily stilled by the recent presence of the large predator. The ghost watched him for a moment, then faded away.
He was starting to panic, his shouts spiralling out of control. He tripped, slipped off a submerged log and took in a lungful of water. He came up spluttering, with the idea forming in his head that, if Sam was gone, it would be better to just give up and drown. His lungs had other plans and he was coughing and whooping involuntarily for air when he heard a voice coming from the shadows by the fallen trunk.
"Dean? Dean! I'm over here. Calm down!"
Sam waded clumsily into view, his face white and shocked in the moonlight. He grabbed hold of Dean's shoulders, gave him a little shake.
"Dude! Breathe man, just breathe. Calm down."
Dean grasped at his brother's arms, digging his fingers into the material of his shirt and the flesh beneath. He choked, snatching gasps of air as his heart hammered uncontrollably.
"Crap. Dean, calm down. I'm okay! Look at me, I'm fine."
Sam steadied him, rubbing at his upper arms.
"I saw a leg, thought it was you Sammy…"
"No. No." Sam's voice was sad. "I guess it was Verne? It looked like his boots, what I saw of them."
"I heard a shot, you…"
"Just a flesh wound, only nicked my leg. I'm okay. Really. But we need to get out of here."
Dean nodded, gulping. "Yeah. Yeah. Get outta here."
He drew away from Sam's grasp, painfully aware that his brother would be able to feel the shaking of terror and reaction shuddering through his frame. It was embarrassing enough that Sam had just witnessed him floundering around in the water.
He pulled himself together with an effort. "Flesh wound? Sit up on the trunk, lemme see."
Sam hoisted himself up gingerly and put out his leg for his brother to inspect, watching him with a pensive expression. The sight and sound of Dean's raw desperation had been shocking; Sam had a sick feeling he'd just witnessed his brother coming unravelled.
The bullet had torn a strip of flesh out of Sam's thigh. It was bleeding sluggishly, the blood dark in the moonlight. Dean peeled off the ripped remains of his shirt and fixed a makeshift bandage.
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From his vantage point on top of the fallen trunk, Sam had a good view of the open channel of water. He grabbed his brother's shoulder, pointing out into the channel. Martin's empty boat was drifting slowly past.
Dean was gone in a flurry of limbs, scrambling away over the last few obstacles. The boat slipped slowly sideways in the sluggish current, the moonlight reflecting back off its metal skin as Dean struck out across the deeper water, small splashes marking his passage as he swam.
The current was faster than it looked and Dean was absurdly grateful when his fingers finally fastened on the hard, metal lip of the boat. The events of the last 24 hours, hell the events of the last couple of months, had taken their toll on his stamina.
He hauled himself aboard, landing in a soggy heap in the bottom of the boat, where he allowed himself the luxury of four deep breaths before pushing himself upright. The engine started at the first pull and he angled the boat into the trees. Sam was waiting at the edge of the deep water and flopped ungracefully into the boat, biting back a groan as his thigh connected with a metal thwart.
Dean flicked the lamps on low beam and opened the engine up a little, heading up the channel. He had no idea where they were going but anywhere away from the cabin where they'd been held captive seemed like a good idea.
There was noise of fumbling behind him as Sam went through the contents of the locker, pulling out a First Aid kit, a couple of bottles of water and a small flashlight. He twisted the lid off one of the bottles, drank thirstily and passed the bottle up to his brother.
Dean took a quick swig, swilled his mouth and spat over the side, trying to rid himself of the gritty feel of swamp mud around his teeth. He swallowed a couple of mouthfuls and handed the bottle back to Sam.
"Pour the rest over your wound, dude. Wash some of that muck out."
Sam complied, gripping the small flashlight between his teeth. There was a pouch of antiseptic wash in the First Aid kit and so he sloshed some of that over the gash too, hissing through his teeth at the burn. He slapped on a quick dressing.
The trees on either side were thinning out now, giving way to shrub and the beginnings of the reed beds. Dean risked a glance at his brother, was glad to see he now had a proper dressing showing through the rip in his jeans. He noted the First Aid kit with approval.
"How's the leg?"
"It's okay." It wasn't feeling okay; it was throbbing and burning in time with Sam's pulse. It must have shown on his face because Dean looked at him with sympathy.
"Stings like a bitch, huh?"
Sam snorted, amused despite himself. "Yeah, yeah it does." His grin faded. "Are you okay?"
Dean waved off his concern and gestured at the First Aid kit. "Well-stocked boat. Where d'you think it came from?"
"It's Martin's." Sam's voice was tight. "He was out here, tried to pick me up. He led them away when I got hit; they'd have got me otherwise." He was hoping Martin hadn't paid for that bravery with his life. Dean looked shocked, rapidly reassessing his opinion of the rather nerdy looking wildlife expert.
"You saw the ghost?" Sam asked.
"Yeah. I saw her. Same girl that was hanging around the cabin." Dean felt a rush of relief; she was not a figment of his imagination after all.
"I think I know who she might be." Sam recalled a conversation during the long, easy hours of the wildlife tour.
"Martin told me about a kid, back in the 1940s. Her family were alligator hunters; they lived out here in the swamp. There was a big man-eater of a gator around back then and one day it took her, right from under her brother's nose. Family went a bit crazy after that, especially the brother. Spent his life killing as many gators as he could. He was pretty successful too. Ended up with so much meat the family opened the diner. Then the nature reserve expanded and the hunting here finished. Martin said the family were pissed. The diner still seems to be doing okay though."
Dean flicked a glance back in the general direction of the cabin where they'd been held prisoner. "What's the ghost got to do with those crazies?"
Sam shrugged. "I figure she's related. The brother died years ago but the family stayed around here and kept the diner going. I'm guessing the guys in the cabin are his descendants."
"Yeah, makes sense. She turned up at the hunter's cabin with 'em. They didn't seem to mind her being around."
"Dude, she's the one got me caught! She was stood out in the road; she didn't look like a ghost so I stopped." Sam shrugged again. "Guess she's helping them. Whatever it is they're doing…"
He caught a quick movement of Dean's hand; it was almost a warding off gesture. "What?"
In the narrow beam of the flashlight his brother looked nauseous. "Sam… what're they cooking now the hunting around here has been stopped?"
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Sam didn't get a chance to reply. The sound of a powerful engine being fired up came from the waterway on their left. Bright floodlights shone through the dividing reeds, dazzling them.
Cursing, Dean swung the boat into the deepest part of the channel and applied full power. They surged forwards. The larger boat smashed through the screen of reeds and powered after them. It was immediately apparent that, even running at full revs, Martin's boat was slower.
There were a few fast turns around the clumps of reeds, the boat heeling over as Dean threw her around the curves in the waterway. The channel began to open up; Sam caught a glimpse of distant lights, recognising the yellow of the lamp set over the nature reserve office. He glanced behind, they were not going to make it.
Seconds later the larger boat was upon them. There was no attempt to get them to stop. Blue Cap simply rammed them at speed, driving the thicker skin of the larger vessel into the side of Martin's boat.
Sam sprawled on his back in the bottom of the boat, grabbing at the boat hook as he landed. Dean was thrown sideways, slamming into the side of the boat with an audible crack and a pained grunt. For a moment, Sam thought his brother would fall overboard, but he rolled back, coming up to his feet with the First Aid box in his hand.
Only Blue Cap and one other man were in the boat. Sam didn't stop to identify him, thrusting the boat hook at the man's chest as forcefully as he could from his prone position. It was a lucky blow and the man, already off balance from the collision, staggered backwards and fell overboard.
Dean met Blue Cap face to face as he swung himself into Martin's boat. The First Aid kit came up in a vicious swing that took Blue Cap under the chin. He flopped backwards, landing across the boats. Dean immediately applied full power and they surged away; Blue Cap fell into the widening gap, grasping onto the side of his own boat.
The engine began to sputter and cough. Dean crouched over it, his arm pressed against his side as he swore softly, coaxing every rev he could out of the failing motor.
Sam tipped the First Aid kit out and began to bail with the box; water was gushing in through a tear in the metal skin. He wondered if the engine would fail first or if they would simply sink.
Behind them there was a ragged roar; spotlights swung in their direction. Blue Cap was in pursuit.
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Thank you all for reading! Many thanks for the reviews!
To be continued…
