AN: I owe each and every reader an apology for how long it took to get this chapter done when it is usually much shorter than that. I am truly sorry.
If you are familiar with my area of the world, you may have heard that there are only two seasons: winter and construction. But that leaves out a short but very busy one: canning season. And I, with my typical lack of restraint, decided to can ALL OF THE THINGS this year. (The good news is that in the case of an apocalyptic event, we will have edible food for a looooooong time.) Again, my apologies. Chapters will probably continue to come out a bit slower than usual for a few weeks as a bit more canning happens. We are also running into the time that I will need to start moving some of my plants indoors, then planting bulbs, so I'll do my best with writing, but it still may be slower than usual. But then, as Ned Stark might say, winter is coming, and the speed of my writing will probably pick up when the weather here turns to general suckage.
Janice was once again a fabulous beta, and there were an awful lot of errors for her to find and correct in this one. I'm glad for her help!
* * *
The four lapsae surrounded Sam, studying him. They were nightmarish creatures. Their bodies were almost human, but excessively lean with too many muscles and sinews, easily visible under taut skin. Their hands and feet were long claws or talons. A large flap of skin ran under their arms, down their sides, and down the outsides of their legs, not really wings, but more like what a flying squirrel had that allowed it to glide. Their ears looked like normal human ears at the bottom, but then stretched thin and long to taper to a point just above the crown of their heads. Their irises and pupils were too large, and oblong in shape. Their noses were nearly flat and their mouths full of pointed teeth, the top and bottom canines extra long, and they drooled constantly.
Majestic creatures? Sure.
A big male stopped right in front of Sam, who stared back defiantly. Blood was running down his arms from his efforts to free himself, but he hadn't made any real progress. He was trapped, facing a crazy amalgamation of Batman and Edward Scissorshands, an analogy that made him think of his brother. He just hoped Dean was safe. Worry for him made Sam even angrier.
"Come –" he started to taunt, just wanting the weird standoff over one way or another, but got distracted as he got a real look at the face of the creature facing him. If he looked past its inhuman features, it looked strangely familiar. It looked like Chet and his brother Archie. "Shit," Sam breathed. Not just a family affair in that they protected the lapsae...they were related to one. "Shit," he said again, thinking through the ramifications of this.
Possibilities ran roughshod through his mind. Were lapsae shifters of some kind? No, that didn't feel right – the creatures in front of him were feral, with only animal cunning in their eyes, not human-like intelligence. Could Chet and Archie be half human, half lapsae? It was a sickening thought, because it was unlikely that a human would willingly sleep with such a monster, much less more than once. No, the most plausible explanation was that humans could be turned into lapsae, the same way they could be turned into a vampire or a werewolf. And Chet and Archie's...brother? Son-slash-nephew? Father? had been turned, so they'd dedicated themselves to protecting him and keeping him secret.
Sam hadn't been thinking for very long, but he was still a little surprised that none of the monsters had attacked yet. He knew they bled their victims – easy to do with those foot-long claws – and he was a sitting duck. Instead, the Chet-lookalike was still studying him intently while the others waited with clear impatience. A different one stepped a little closer, nostrils flaring and hand-type appendages flexing. Without looking away from Sam, the first lapsae backhanded it away. The one that had been struck backed off even though it was even larger than the one still staring at Sam. The latter was some type of leader, then.
Sam quickly cataloged the four creatures and gave them names in his head to keep the apart. Leader guy was Hannibal. The hungry one, which had a nasty scar on its chest, was B.A. The taller female, who was even rangier than the rest, he dubbed Face, since she looked the most human and was therefore the least freaky-looking. The last, who was the smallest at only maybe 5' 4", which hopped around like a rabbit with ADHD, he designated as Murdoch.
He nearly had his uncasted arm free when Hannibal struck out with a single claw. Sam had been watching for something of the kind and leaned back and kicked out to deflect the blow. The tip of the index finger (index claw?) still just caught his jaw. The cut wasn't deep, but blood flowed freely. Ignoring Sam's continued struggles and swearing, the lapsae licked the blood off its claw.
The other monsters growled excitedly at the sight of the blood and moved in close, Murdoch managing to claw Sam lightly through his shirt right over his ribs.
Hannibal dropped his mouth open – literally, it looked like the jaw unhinged to give him a larger bite – and roared so loudly that it made Sam's ears ring. At the same time, a flap of skin from the back of his head that Sam hadn't even noticed unfurled to halo around him, not unlike a frilled lizard, though it rose up above his head, too. The display made the other three monsters literally tumble backwards out of reach, and Sam was reminded of a gorilla beating the ground or a bull lowering its head and pawing at the ground. It was a clear "I'm in charge."
Wondering if the prize of leadership was first rights to eat him, Sam watched with all his muscles tensed up. He might be hanging like a side of beef, but he wasn't going to sit there docilely while he was being eaten.
But instead of attacking overtly, Hannibal made a hissing noise and spit something at Sam. It wasn't spitting the way most creatures would spit. It came from the back of his throat while his mouth stayed wide open. Sam flinched out of the way as much as possible, but Hannibal just followed the movement and made sure the viscous white fluid covered one side of his neck and up onto his jaw.
Apparently pleased with the results, the lapsae pulled its strange halo back in and closed its mouth, then turned away. It gave a grunt and wave of a claw, calling the others to follow. Sam stared as they walked away from him, trying to work out what had just happened. The liquid was starting to sting and burn, and he tried to wipe as much as possible onto his shoulder, mostly unsuccessfully. He noticed the smallest, "Murdoch," was looking back at him as if reluctant to leave, licking the claw that had Sam's blood on it. Then they had moved into the darkness where he couldn't see them.
Sam didn't wait to work harder at freeing himself, though blood was trickling down his arm now. He didn't trust his reprieve and fully intended to be gone before any lapsae or humans (aside from Dean) came back. He was soon able to rotate the wrist back and forth. Then he heard the softest clicking sound, almost like a dog's nails on a hard floor, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He sped up his motions, unconcerned with the way he was tearing his skin.
Murdoch slithered into view, panting and drooling. He would've sworn she was smiling, smug at having Sam all to herself. "Your, uh, leader guy won't be happy if you touch me, I bet," Sam said to her on the off chance she could understand him...and cared what he had to say. She didn't even slow, sidling toward him until she was within reach.
Sam kicked out as she took a swipe, deflecting it harmlessly to the side. The swinging of his body pulled his good hand free of the ropes and he couldn't help but cry out as his body weight briefly hung from his broken arm. Murdoch took advantage of his distraction and swiped again, this time cutting the inside of his thigh just above the knee.
Sam could tell the cut was quite deep. He kicked the lapsae in the chest to give himself a little space and reached up to free his right arm. He got it loose just as the now furious lapsae came back at him. Since he didn't have time to dodge the claws, he dove toward her. They crashed together, chest to chest, and went crashing to the ground locked together. Sam managed to grab her right wrist and trap her left arm against the side of her body by wrapping his right arm around her in a kind of hug. Sam was about twice her size, but she had unnatural strength and it was all he could do just to keep her from cutting him to ribbons.
They rolled back and forth, neither able to fully get the upper hand. Sam could feel the blood soaking his pant leg and worried that soon he would start to get light-headed. And though he could use his longer limbs to keep them rolling every time she started to gain ground, she was clearly the stronger of the two. Once she remembered that she could use her teeth and clawed feet, he was toast.
A stone came loose from the cave floor from Sam kicking off but he didn't hear it land. It gave him an idea about where they were in the cave – and a kind of crazy idea about how to come out of the fight alive.
The next time Murdoch really started them rolling, Sam not only didn't push back, he turned into the roll so they went tumbling across the hard floor. Risking getting his jugular slashed, he gave a quick glance over his shoulder. When he gauged the timing right, Sam suddenly pushed the lapsae up and out with both his arms and legs, at the same time throwing his own weight the other direction – away from the cliff edge.
It worked almost perfectly. With a howl, the lapsae went soaring over the cliff edge, her connection to Sam broken. Almost. As Murdoch flailed, two long finger claws hooked into Sam's shirt right at the button line. The lapsae's weight rolled Sam toward her, allowing her to grab his shoulder with the other hand. So when the lapsae fell off the cliff, Sam went with her.
They crashed almost immediately into a shelf maybe ten feet down into the fissure, Sam luckily on top. As he'd hoped, she hadn't had a chance to slow herself with her "wings" before hitting down. Of course, he hadn't intended to be with her.
The lapsae screamed as her bones crunched on impact. Her body jerked to a sudden stop, but Sam kept rolling from their momentum. He grabbed frantically for a handhold of any kind, slicing his good hand open on her claws before getting a grip on her wrist. He held on as all of his weight was abruptly suspended from the deceptively small appendage. His legs slammed into the rock wall, and he wasn't prepared for the explosion of pain in his cut thigh.
Shock and pain loosened Sam's grip just as the lapsae screamed again and jerked her hand up. The combination was too much for him to keep hanging on and he plunged downward. Almost as soon as Sam registered he was falling, he struck something and everything went dark.
WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER
Dean's anger did not abate as he methodically, thoroughly searched the seemingly endless tors and aeries and tunnels above the Arke River. No, if anything it grew as he grew more and more frustrated. He was in excellent physical shape, but the constant climbing over boulders and up rocky hills and promontories began to wear on him. He paused and checked his watch, finding that he'd been looking for two hours already. He surveyed the distance he'd covered and how much was left and did some calculations.
Best guess, it would take him a week of doing nothing but searching just to look in every crevice and cave in this one little section of the crags. He had to be smarter about this, find something that confirmed he was even in the right area. Though his heart protested the move, he worked his way back down to the base of the rocky heights that made up the south bank of the river and stood and took a long look to get an overview of the entire area. With the sun at his back, he could see the entire span – a good mile across. For one second, he allowed despair and fear to wash over him. Then he saw something else – the sun glinting off something that was definitely not rock.
Dean's eyes widened for a split second before he dove to the ground. He held his breath for a long moment, but a shot never came. Dean climbed to his feet cautiously, looking around the side of the saguaro-shaped rock he'd hidden behind. He wasn't willing to risk getting his head blown off on the hope that it wasn't a gun sight that had caught the sun. He leaned out just far enough to see the slight reflection again. Though he watched for a few minutes, he didn't see anything move, nor did anyone cover or move whatever was causing the reflection. The birds didn't even stop singing. A true sniper might be able to sit perfectly still for that long, but then again, a true sniper wouldn't make the rookie mistake of holding a position that allowed for the scope reflection at all.
Though he knew that his handgun would only have half the range of any rifle that might be trained on him, Dean risked stepping out from his cover anyway, though he stayed in the shadow of the rock that had provided his cover. When nothing happened, he stepped farther out more confidently. He began to scrutinize the area around the mystery reflection for anything else that might be out of place.
There! Dean tipped his head and half squinted his eyes, trying to look at the rock face the way he'd look at one of those hidden picture things. Something about the way it looked below the glint was not quite normal. In fact, there was a definite direction to the way it slanted down, too evenly to be accidental. About a third of the way to the bottom, the slant changed direction, slightly resembling a switchback on a mountain road.
"Gotcha," Dean whispered, hoping beyond hope that he was right and definitely not thinking about what Sam might be going through at the hands of crazy townies with an inexplicable tendency for shanghaiing strangers.
He made his way to the boulder that sat guard at the base of the unnatural-looking rock as fast as he could over scree and uneven ground. When he walked around said boulder, he almost crowed in triumph. Tucked in its lee was a dark-windowed Ford Explorer like the one motel clerk Carl had described. Dean approached it carefully and found it locked. He peered inside but all he could tell was that there was nobody inside. He used the butt of his gun to break the driver's window and reached in to open the door.
The inside of the vehicle was considerably cleaner than the outside, though there was plenty of sand on the floor mats. The back row of seats had been removed and the carpet back there was crooked with one corner scrunched up, as if something had been dragged across it. Dean's eyes narrowed. Something heavy – like a body.
There was an army surplus-type duffel bag halfway under the middle seats, and Dean pulled it out on the off chance that it might have some kind of clues about who these people were. And, boy, were the contents interesting. There were several jerry-rigged tasers with the safeties bypassed to greatly increase their output, a nearly empty canister of tear gas, a couple of air horns, a pair of heavy, elbow-length leather gloves, some metallic cable, and an honest-to-Allan Quartermaine tranquilizer gun, complete with 2 vials of milky green liquid.
"Dr. Moreau starter kit?" he mumbled to himself, even more disturbed now than he had been before.
Climbing back out of the SUV, Dean looked up the well-disguised path up the side of the cliff that had caught his attention in the first place. Where there was dirt, he could easily make out tire tracks, their width indicating one or more small off-road vehicles like 4-wheelers. Looking harder, he found the cave where said vehicles had been stored; there were tire scuffs on the floor and a small oil spot that gave it away. The voids in the dust indicated that at least three had been parked there, possibly four, but it was empty now. It made sense since the path was too narrow for the SUV.
Dean, however, would have to walk. He made it all of 40 feet before something caught his eye. It was a long, thin wire stretched across the makeshift path at ankle height, and Dean came within an inch of stepping on it. He stopped and gave it a cursory inspection.
One side was anchored into a rock with a climbing piton. The other was attached to a few odds and ends cobbled together with more wire and hidden among rocks the size of Dean's head. He recognized its purpose immediately. It was a small incendiary device, placed to send the small rocks flying and probably free a much larger rock just up the slope.
At best, it would startle the person who triggered it and alert anyone nearby of their presence. At worst, it could be deadly. "Great," sighed Dean. "As if I didn't already know these are total psychopaths."
Watching for traps slowed him even further as he ascended. There were several. He gently unhooked a World War 2 era grenade from the clothesline that disappeared beneath the path and just avoided another tripwire, this one attached to a slab of metal holding back an avalanche of rocks, detritus, and even a few caltrops, complaining, "I don't know if I'm up against a grown-up Kevin McCallister or a group of Ewoks."
As he came around the hairpin turn two thirds of the way up the slope, Dean's boot slipped on the loose pebbles that had collected there, likely thrown by the off-road vehicles that traversed the path. He put a hand on the 12-foot-high rock that formed the bend of the "u" to regain his balance and heard a distant rattling like pots and pans striking together. He swore, immediately recognizing that he'd set off a rudimentary (but effective) warning system that someone was coming.
It was a bad place to be caught. The next section of the path was bounded by tall rock on the outside and by only the cliffside on the inside, meaning anyone up at the cave he was heading to would have a clear shot at him, and there was no kind of cover for next twenty feet or so. Having no desire to be a fish in a barrel and unwilling to take the more prudent option of retreating back around the corner, Dean took off on a dead run for the first handy outcropping big enough to conceal him. He was no slouch in the speed department and had good enough balance to keep traction on the loose gravel. Literally as he dove beneath his chosen rock shelf, he heard a high-pitched whine and something pinged off the rock behind his heel. His protection wasn't much larger than he was, but it was enough.
He was in exactly the situation he'd worried about when he'd first seen whatever was reflecting the sun up by the cave opening, and there wasn't much he could do about it.
Dean stayed motionless behind the jut of rock and waited, not trying to see the shooter just yet. He knew whoever was behind that shot would be watching for him to peek out. They were already set in place and knew exactly where he was. Besides, he would be looking up into the sun, putting him at even more of a disadvantage. Instead, he looked every direction he could see and pictured the slope above him in his head, trying to work out a way out of the damn sticky situation.
The options all sucked. There was nowhere to go that didn't require a way too long run without cover. Unless the guy with the rifle was totally incompetent or a storm trooper, Dean was going to get ventilated doing that.
"Throw out your weapons and come out right now and I promise I won't shoot," called a woman's voice calmly. "There's nowhere to go."
"Where's my brother, Linda?" Dean called back, furious all over again. "You know, the one who stepped in to help you at the bar."
"You have thirty seconds," she answered, cold as ice.
"Then what? You're going to shoot me through the rock? Or maybe come down here?" Dean called mockingly. He knew that there was no cell service anywhere nearby, so she couldn't call in someone from the bottom of the embankment to come up and catch him in crossfire and nobody from up top could come down without giving him a free shot at them. Sure, there was probably another way around, but it wouldn't be quick. "Or better yet, just wait. It'll be dark in a few hours." He wasn't as confident as he sounded, but he did have a few tricks up his sleeve that she didn't know about.
"I'm not alone," Linda responded. "And we will shoot you unless you give yourself up."
Dean snorted. "But if I do what you say, you'll just let me go, right? And I should trust a couple kidnappers?"
There was a pause, then Linda answered flatly, "Fine. Stay there." She whistled sharply three times.
Dean opened his mouth to answer and a shadow crossed over him. He looked up and swore. Two lapsae were circling him like gigantic vultures. The larger one looked right at him and dove.
* * *
AN: Lots of references, thanks to Dean.
The names Sam gave the lapsae were the names of the four members of a fictional group of outlaws who help people who are being abused by the rich and/or powerful if no one else can help and if you can find them. (Think "Leverage" but with a lot of guns and schtick, and hero bad guys who are actually innocent.) They were in a tv show in the 1980's called "The A Team." There was a movie, too, though not until 2010 and with different actors.
The Arke River is fictional. I named it for the minor Greek goddess who is known as the "winged woman" as a bit of whimsy.
Allan Quartermaine is a big game hunter and the hero of a series of stories by H. Rider Haggard, the most famous of which is King Solomon's Mines.
Dr. Moreau is the main character of H. G. Wells' half science fiction, half horror novel The Island of Dr. Moreau. He performs terrible, cruel experiments on animals.
Kevin McCallister is the main character in the first couple of Home Alone movies. He deters would-be burglars with a bunch of makeshift traps.
The Ewoks are a race of beings in the movie Star Trek: Return of the Jedi. They fight the empire's soldiers with traps and guerrilla tactics.
Colby's girl: Yeah, I'm very mean to the poor Winchesters. I love how you characterized Dean in chapter 2: "introspective to dopey to mama bear to Dirty Harry" has got to be the best thing I've read today!
ncsupnatfan: Thank you! I love all of your questions because it lets me know how the story "appears" to readers. Sometimes I can get ahead of myself and forget that you don't know certain details because I never mentioned them or forget to answer some questions in the story just because I know the answers.
bagelcat1: I like the phrase "you can't reason someone out of something they didn't reason into." It seems apropos for the people in the story! Right about the keys. It's one of my notes to myself – to not forget them and leave them on the roof. It was the easiest way I could think of to keep the bad guys from being able to drive Baby away. LOL. Thank you for the kind words!
Trucklady53: Exactly! I think the lapsae aka mothmen are creepy too. Then I made them worse (IMO) with the flaring skin and spitting. Sorry you had to wait so long for this chapter! And then another cliffie or two...oh dear.
stedan: We pretty much got right into the danger with this one. I love your question about who's the real monster(s) in this situation. I'm not giving away anything more yet, but I like your speculation. :-)
Jenjoremy: LOL! I will keep trying to feed your need for Sam-in-danger and plenty of action!
muffinroo: OMG!!! That made me laugh so hard!
Natylop: Your English is just fine! My nephew is taking Spanish in school and was telling me all the words for the stuff I was canning since they're learning fruits and vegetables. (Literally the only one I could remember was naranjas, which wasn't one of the things I canned.) Sorry for a cliffhanger on the last chapter then such a long wait. And for two more cliffhangers here! I should be able to update faster now, though. Thanks for sticking with me.
Timelady: You certainly don't need to apologize to me – especially when I took so long to update. There will definitely be more explanation about why the people are protecting and helping the lapsae, promise. I mean, beyond just the fact that they're nuts. LOL
Kathy: You have the nicest things to say! Even when I leave you on the edge and then take a million years to update. I try not to recycle too many story lines and worry constantly that I'm getting boring or predictable, so I appreciate hearing from you so much about finding things unique and interesting.
Shazza: You aren't the only who said they liked Dean threatening that clerk! Of course, he put Sam in danger, and everyone knows that's a terrible life decision. I see that the Sydney Swans lost the final, and they're your team, right? I'm sorry – it stinks to get so close and not make it. I've kept up with the gardening, bringing a bunch of my herbs inside for the winter. I'll definitely miss having fresh veggies every day.
Chiiva: Sorry you had to wait so long! And then two more cliffhangers…
Anne: You are making me blush! You are really too kind. The technique comment is so appreciated, because I try to pay attention to what works and what doesn't. I did have a very nice weekend, but it was ridiculously busy because I'm a moron who goes overboard with what I think I can get done. (Half a bushel of pears? Why don't we do a whole bushel?) I hope you did too. Also, I love your description of Dean climbing out of the window looking like he just rolled out of bed. How can he be so cute and so dangerous at the same time? So very sorry for the long wait!