Tastes Like Trophies
Thanks so much for the kind reviews and I am sorry as can be if I missed replying to anyone, but the site says the darn reviews don't exist…
And for those of you wondering what in the heck the title means, hopefully this will give you some idea.
Chapter Four
"Where are we supposed to go?" Sam said. "This is a walled garden. He's locked us in."
"I'm thinking!" Dean shot back.
Once again there were no lights on the lawn, and here there weren't even ground lights to illuminate the exterior of the house. Using the dim light coming through the panes of glass in the door and the windows above, they both looked around the garden, trying to see through the darkness for another way out.
Smedley had chosen his trap well. There were no first floor windows looking into the garden and the manager himself was blocking the door.
"Whatever you're going to do, you'd better do it fast," Sam urged. The tiger was within only a few feet of them, backing them into the corner created by the house and the garden wall.
"Over the wall, Sam," Dean said, simultaneously hoisting a concrete vase sitting near them and heaving it at the animal. The vase caught the possessed shrub in the flank and knocked it sideways. The tiger roared angrily, but neither of them waited to see any more. Dean gave Sam a leg up, then followed, both scrambling up the eight foot wall using the vines covering it to climb.
Sam reached the top of the wall and laid himself out across the top, turning to help his brother up. A hissing near his hand stopped him. He snatched his hand back as he realized the vine was actually slithering toward him across the top of the wall. Great. It wasn't just the tiger. Sam quickly grabbed another piece of vine, first making certain it too wasn't hissing, and ripped it loose. Using the branch he slid it beneath the 'snake' and flung it over Dean's head into the walled garden.
Sam heard a stifled cry and looked down to see Dean was caught, his calf in the tiger's leafy mouth. The tiger shook its head back and forth like a dog worrying a bone trying to wrest Dean from the wall. Dean awkwardly used his other foot and kicked the tiger in the face. The animal snarled, but released him. Sam reached down, grabbed Dean by the arm and bodily dragged him up and over the top.
They both landed heavily on the other side. Dean grunted and leaned against the wall, taking his weight off of his leg. "I know it's just a shrub," he said, his face tight with pain, "but it sure felt like teeth."
"You all right?" His brother's jeans below the knee were stained with blood, but Sam couldn't tell how much damage had actually been done.
"Are you kidding?" Dean shouted angrily. "I paid a fortune for this place and they just tried to kill us! I haven't even done anything to piss them off yet!"
"A preemptive strike?" Sam suggested.
"Dude, shut up."
They both froze at a snuffling sound close by. Carefully they turned to look out over the lawn. "Are we taking bets on whether anything else out here has something against us?" Dean asked lowly.
The snuffling grew louder and something low and leafy charged them, racing out of the darkness.
"Boar," Sam shouted, already bracing to run.
"There," Dean pointed toward a bench sitting back against the wall only a few feet from them. They ran toward it and the boar veered, still aiming directly at them. Grabbing the bench together, they turned it over. The edge of the bench caught the boar across the back, pinning the shrub in place. The boar squealed and grunted angrily, trying to free itself, but was trapped.
"We've got to get inside," Dean said, breathing heavily and favoring his injured leg.
"You gonna make it?"
"No choice, really," his brother answered.
It made Sam's heart ache to know that was how Dean saw almost everything in his life. No choice. It had to be done so he would do it. He would fight and work and struggle, no matter the cost to himself. And while Sam bridled beneath the constraints, Dean doggedly worked to his own hurt, never complaining. It was so much a part of his character, he wouldn't know how to change it if he wanted to.
They edged along the wall, trying to find the closest door. Rounding the corner of the building they frightened a small group of deer-like topiary that had apparently been grazing. They ran in a herd away from the house. Sam gasped when another animal, a wolf or hyena or coyote, waded into the herd and brought one of the smaller ones down.
"There are a bear and a lion around here too," Dean whispered. "Who knows what else."
Finally they came to a door, although it too was locked. For whatever reason, Smedley had fully intended for them to be dinner tonight. Dean quickly pulled his sleeve down over his hand and broke out a pane of glass. He reached around to unlock it and they hurried inside.
Smedley was waiting for them with a gun. "I really do need you to go back outside."
"Are you nuts?" Dean shouted, ignoring the gun and sinking into the closest chair, though his eyes never left the hotel manager.
"We're not going back out there!" Sam added. Certainly not when Dean was hurt and the sharks could scent the blood in the water.
"You may not believe me," Smedley said, his voice calm and level, "but I am trying to save lives."
"You're saving lives by feeding us to the wolves?" Dean asked incredulously.
"Exactly so."
"You care to explain that?" he bit out.
"I am the manager here and thus am privileged with certain responsibilities."
"Killing the guests?" Sam raised an eyebrow.
He saw Dean lean forward to inspect his leg. His brother grimaced slightly and then sat back, purposely smearing the blood on his hands all over the expensively upholstered chair he was sitting in.
"My job is to protect this hotel, its employees and its patrons," Smedley said, his tone still infuriatingly calm, though he angrily eyed Dean and the stain he was making all over the chair. "I searched your bags while you were being interviewed by the police. I had to know what you are. You see, Mr. Huntington killed a great many animals. Not all of them took it kindly."
"You knew the bushes would turn into an episode of 'When Animals Attack,'" Dean stated.
"This has happened before," Smedley said, "and I know how to take care of it."
Sam frowned. "I didn't find anything in my research. There haven't been any other deaths."
"As I said, I take care of it."
"You cover up murders," Dean said flatly.
"Rather I pick up after murderers," he narrowed his eyes, "like you two."
"You wanna try that again?" Dean said, getting to his feet, fury overriding the damage to his leg. The look on his face was incredulous, but underneath it Sam could see just the barest hint of recognition. As if deep down, his brother feared it might be true. That glimpse alone was enough to make Sam want to wring the manager's neck for making Dean even think such a thing.
"This has only happened twice before. Each time a hunter came to this place... Not a casual hunter who goes out and shoots a deer and enjoys a bit of venison pie... No. A professional. A hunter. A killer. And both times the animals woke."
"They killed people," Sam said, already knowing the answer.
"Yes."
"Let me guess… headless," Dean sighed.
"Huntington kept his trophies. The heads are hanging on the Game Room walls. The animals are returning the favor."
"How do we stop it?" Sam asked.
"The same way a killer is always stopped," Smedley said, his voice deadly calm. "A bigger predator comes along. Huntington was killed by a lion. The other two hunters who came here… It ended when the animals had their trophy."
"Why don't you just cut down all the shrubs?" Dean demanded. "Or at least quit trimming animals out of them."
"You don't understand," the manager said. "We don't have a gardener. The shrubs grow that way. It's my job to keep them from killing anyone else. And since you two caused this disaster, you are the ones who have to end it. The sacrificial lambs, as it were."
Smedley raised the gun and, as if he knew the only thing that would force Dean to move, pointed the weapon directly at Sam's chest. "Now, I'm really going to have to ask you gentlemen to step back outside."
A little heavy on the exposition side… Forgive me… Had to be done…