Disclaimer: If you recognize it from Supernatural I don't own it. I'm just playing with it!
Hunted
John Winchester is hunted by more then just demons.
Chapter Twenty Eight
It was early morning before John was able to leave the scene of the latest demon attack. He drove the fifteen miles to New Castle the closest town with a motel. Once again the demon had escaped him and destroyed another family. The demon had not seen him, but he suspected it knew he'd been there trying to stop it. That meant it knew he was in the area and he needed to be more careful.
He dropped his bags on the first bed in his seedy looking motel room. Then he salted the door and windows before taking a shower to rid himself of the smell of ashes and burning flesh that lingered on his clothes, skin and hair. The only thing he hated worse then that smell, was the demon. The memories that smell brought to him were horrible recollections of the night Mary had perished.
Finishing his shower John dropped onto the bed and fell into an exhausted and fitful sleep. His dreams were filled with death and flames and when he woke later in the day he was only slightly more rested then when he had fallen asleep.
Using the laptop John searched the web for any stories on last night's fire and found only a short blurb posted on one of the local news station's web sites. No details other than the fact that four people had died in a house fire. It didn't even mention that it was a six month old girl, a four year old boy and their parents. Credit was given to the officer for rescuing the teenaged girls and no mention was made of him, which was exactly what he had requested.
Next John researched the Ozborne family but found nothing significant. Nothing that he could find about the family or the child gave him any indication of what would attract the demon to them. If he could figure out why the demon was choosing its victims then he might be able to save the families by getting them away to a place he could protect before the demon attacked.
When he finished his research he had no new information but he could not leave yet. While he was pretty sure it was the demon that had killed the family he wanted confirmation. He had never gotten close enough to the bedroom to see what happened and needed to make sure it wasn't some kind of ruse or an accidental fire. He would spend the next two or three nights prowling the area where the remaining children lived and doing his utmost to keep them safe.
He closed the laptop. There was nothing more he could do right now so he decided to get something to eat. This time he used considerably more caution before opening the door and stepping over the salt line. He pushed aside the curtains of the window and looked outside. Nothing drew his attention so he opened the door looked around and stepped out to his truck. He would use this method every time he left a secured location from this point on. It would not do his children or anyone else any good if he was dead or captured.
After he ate John returned to the motel room and decided to at least look into the situation at the Park Bobby had mentioned. After all he did owe the man for all his help lately and besides it would give him something to do during the day. Opening the laptop he used google to search for McConnells Mill State Park and came up with several entries. He checked out their main web site to familiarize himself with the park.
The park itself encompassed over 2500 acres of the Slippery Rock Creek Gorge. The scenic park was filled with waterfalls, rugged hiking trails, a whitewater creek and an old logging mill built sometime in the 1800's. The combination of rough terrain, damp slippery rocks, varying degrees of white water rapids and steep cliffs has resulted in many serious injuries and deaths in the past. There have been many reports of ghosts and spirits in the area.
One of the more common stories is about an old mill worker who worked there. He always walked the same path to work carrying his lunch in a box and a lantern. Rumor is the man died because of a malfunction in the equipment. The spirit of the man can be seen walking down the hill to the mill and entering it. Once he goes into the mill a light appears screams can be heard coming from the mill.
There is also the spirit of a caretaker that lived on the property from the early 1930's until his death is also seen from time to time. He has been known to chase people away.
Then there's a girl that died in auto accident on the covered bridge that crosses Slippery Rock Creek beside the mill. Stories say she appears in your rear view mirror but when you turn around and look but she's never there and disappears from the mirror.
None of these would have attracted Bobby's attention though. It had to be something much more recent and much more deadly to peak his interest, so John continued looking. His search eventually brought him to the story that had come to the notice of his friend.
Two weeks ago Martha Staples, a park employee, had been working late. She was alone in the old mill building. At around eight o'clock other workers in the area heard her terrified screams coming from the building. By the time they arrived she was dead. Her mangled and dismembered body was torn into pieces and tossed across the floor of the mill. Written in the woman's own blood on the floor was "8:00". Every piece of her body was recovered except for one hand. The article also mentioned something similar having occurred in the mill over twenty years ago.
John continued to dig and found reports of more deaths going back into the early 1900's. Closing the laptop he decided he would need to check the older county records to see if the deaths went back even further. Tomorrow he would go to the local library and see what he could find out. Then if necessary he'd check the public records out at the county office.
John wondered at the message written in blood. Why eight o'clock? The time was obviously some how significant. It would probably be important to destroying whatever was butchering people in the mill. Only some of stories he'd read concerning the earlier deaths mentioned the time but all of those indicated the time of death at or around eight in the evening.
John set the alarm and lay down on the bed. He drifted off to sleep and this time his sleep was peaceful and undisturbed. He woke a few moments before the alarm went off, cleaned and prepared his weapons then left the motel. He arrived back at Plantersville just before dark. When he stopped at the only gas station to fill the truck he found the officer from the night before was also at the station.
The man had a very small patrol area so John wasn't surprised to run into him again. In fact he was hoping he would. He wanted to find out if the man knew the results of the fire departments investigation.
"John," the officer said shaking his hand. "How are you doing?"
"Better," John replied. "I wanted to apologize for giving you a hard time yesterday."
"Hey," the man said. "I understand. I wanted to save them too."
"Yeah, I know. I just wish we'd gotten there a few minutes sooner."
"If we had, we may have saved them all. The fire department determined you were right John. It was an electrical fire."
"That's a shame," John said baiting the man. "When they start inside the walls it's got to be hard to tell until it's too late."
"See now, that's the strange thing," he replied taking the bait. "The fire didn't start in the wall."
"It didn't?" John said feinting surprise. "But I thought you said it was electrical."
"It was, but it started in the ceiling, not the walls," the officer said confirming for John that it was the demon that started the fire and killed the family.
John said, "So the kids and the mother, they probably died from smoke inhalation then."
"I don't know yet. We're still waiting on that report," the officer said shaking his head.
"Well," John said. "I hope, for their sakes that they did."
"Yeah, me too," said the officer. "You have a good evening. I need to get back on patrol. And John, thanks for your help last night."
"You're welcome," John replied and as the officer returned to his car John got in the truck. He looked at his watch. It was seven thirty. He decided to go checkout the mill where the girl had died. It was only a few minutes away.
The mill had been closed to the public since the death of Martha Staples. So, after crossing the covered bridge that led up to the old mill John parked down the road a bit from the building and carrying his weapons duffle bag he made his way stealthily up the road.
John made quick work of the lock on the door and let himself inside checking his watch. It was five minutes to eight. It took less than two minutes for John to find the room where she was killed. Evidently the police had not yet released the scene for clean up. The room had been used as a visitor information center. A long glass case filled with fossils and remnants of past decades doubled as a counter. The walls were filled with framed pictures of the mill and surrounding area some in black and white, some in color. Several stands containing brochures for other parks and attractions decorated two of the corners and a large antique grandfather clock decorated the other corner.
Blood stains were smeared the entire length of the floor. The walls, pictures, ceiling and counter had streaks of blood in obvious cast off patterns. There was hardly a spot in the room that wasn't stained dark with old dried blood. At the doorway where John stood was the message written on the floor, "8:00".
John moved to the center of the room and began a closer inspection. The sudden noise as the old grandfather clock sounding the first chime of 8:00 started John. He was chuckling at his own unease when a strange scarlet red light invaded the room and the mill door flew open.
Standing in the doorway stood the silhouette of a shadowy figure. "This night when the clock chimes 8:00, you shall meet a grisly fate," snarled the shadowy figure. He lifted his arm to reveal he had no hand, but only a bloody stump at the end of his wrist. Unsheathing a sword from beneath his cape with his remaining hand he raised it menacingly and moved towards the hunter.
John backed slowly away while he pulled the shotgun from his weapons bag. It was loaded with rock salt and while it wouldn't destroy the spirit that was advancing on him it would certainly slow the thing down. John pulled the trigger and the spirit vanished in a swirl of red ethereal smoke.
John decided it was time to depart the mill and make his presence scarce before the ghost returned. He went to the door but when he tried to open it he found nothing he did would make it budge. The clock chimed a second time and a haunting laughter filled the room as the spirit returned in striking distance with the sword which was already in mid stroke. John jumped back but was hindered by the closed door. He raised the shot gun again and pulled the trigger but not before he felt the sting of the blade as it sliced across his chest.
The spirit disappeared again but John wasn't taking chances this time. He moved to the center of the room where he would have maneuverability. He removed the spent casings from the shot gun and replaced them with two fresh salt laden shells as the clock chimed for the third time.
The ghost reappeared and again struck at John with the sword. This time John was more prepared and using the barrel of the shotgun he blocked the stroke of the sword but the power behind the blade sent him stumbling backwards. Again he shot the ghost with the rock salt.
John knew he couldn't keep this up much longer he was either going to run out of shells or the spirit was going to appear to close for him to defend himself. At the fourth Chime of the clock the ghost appeared and it struck. This time coming in low and sending a searing pain through John's leg as he pulled the trigger. Before he could reload the spirit was back and John was forced to use the barrel of the gun again to block the strike aimed at removing his head. The clock chimed for the fifth time.
The Spirit smiled gleefully as John was sent sailing backwards. He was barely able to get the gun up again in time to block the next strike. This time John was smashed into the grandfather clock that adorned the corner of the room as it chimed for the sixth time.
As John sagged against the clock he recalled the words of the spirit when it first arrived in the room. He blocked another strike by the ghost then turned. And as the clock chimed for the seventh time he smashed the butt of the gun into the face of the clock destroying it with one powerful blow. He turned quickly to once again face the evil spirit. But as the ghost struck down and the gun came up to block, the sword passed through the barrel of the gun and the spirit turned to blood red mist and disappeared from sight.
John waited but the spirit did not return. He looked at the old grandfather clock. It had stopped before the final chime of 8:00. A sign above the clock announced that it was the original clock from the mills first day and had recently been restored and repaired.
For a reason John would likely never know the spirit was bound to the clock. Intent on preventing another incident John dragged the old clock outside and as a precaution he poured salt on it prior burning to ashes and scattering them into the creek.
A/N Please read and review.
p.s. I am currently in West Palm Beach Florida and due to the impending hurricane I may not be able to post tomorrow's chapter. In fact if we loose electricity it may be a few days before I can post another chapter. So if I don't get the next chapter up as quick as I normally do please be patient I promise not to give up on this story until I have worked my way through the entire first season.