Field of Deans – chpt 2.
by: sifi.
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"...and you came out and he was gone?" County Sheriff Steve Hynze asked peering over his sunglasses at John.
"Yeah..." John nodded then pointed to the glass beads that were all that was left of the passenger window, "That's right..."
"And why did you leave him in the car?" he asked.
John winced, the officer's question the same one his conscience had been screaming since he emerged from the mini-mart with Sam in his arms to find his car window smashed and his cherished first born gone.
"Sammy was getting fussy... we're just starting with the potty training and he said he had to go... Dean was in the car listening to his tapes, the doors were locked..."
"I do good?" Sam nodded petting John's near-beard.
"Yeah Sammy... you did good..." John half-choked, pressing his forehead to his baby's temple.
"... you didn't argue? Nothing that would maybe make him try to run away and make it look like someone snatched him?"
Fury snapped inside John Winchester, as he held his littlest one, with suddenly wide misty eyes and a fist that leaped into his mouth, snugly to him while he pointed into the passenger seat where cubes of safety glass glinted in the daylight, "That's my SON's BLOOD! and the window is broken INWARD! If you can't do something to help me find my boy then get on your god damned radio and get someone here who can!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. The fury and volume of his voice brought his baby's head tightly to his chest to help drown out the painful sound.
"Daddy?" Sam sniffed rubbing his face against John's rough stubble, drying the tears that were creeping from his eyes. "Wan' Dee..." he huffed, his mouth bowed downward and trembling.
"Me too baby... me too..." John soothed stroking his little boy's back and demanding that his heart settle and his head remain clear. He had to stay clear for the sake of his boy, for ALL their sakes.
"Alright alright... I understand Mr. Winchester..."
"DO you!?" he demanded, "My boy is out there somewhere with God only knows WHAT... happening to him, in God only knows WHATs... what kind of person's hands! He's SIX YEARS OLD for God's sake! He's not... he's... it's NOT safe out there!" his voice broke on the last, the tears he'd tried so hard to dam slid forth into the crevasses of his cheeks where his little one's tiny hand pushed them away.
God I can't believe how I screwed up! I shouldn't have bothered with the cops! I should've just... I should've... bastards! he held Sam firmly to his chest, his tired little boy alternating between frightening alertness that kept him scanning the area, and the tiredness of a two year old boy whose been on the road with his dad and big brother for two days solid only to find his big brother missing.
"Mr. Winchester, come with me please..." another man, this one stuck in fashion non-sense of late seventies ushered him into the mini-mart, into a back room where a surveillance tape was flickering on pause.
One of the mini-mart clerks sat at the console. When the plain clothes detective nodded at him, the video started moving forward, a static shot that covered only the pay phone, a bank of propane tanks, and the car, the only movement a faint gray bobbing head swaying to some inaudible music in the passenger seat of John's shining black impala.
"DEEEAANN!" Sam squealed reaching toward the monitor.
"That IS your son Dean Mr. Winchester?" the cop asked.
"Yeah, that's him," John nodded holding his baby close.
At the far edge of the camera a thick plume of opaque white moved into the frame, rolling toward the impala.
"What the hell is that?" John asked breathlessly, his eyes moving from the cop to the clerk and back again.
"Looks like smoke..." the detective frowned.
"Were there any reports of a fire nearby?" John demanded of the clerk, a young boy with teased and oversprayed hair, black nail polish and pristine complexion that was a left turn from what would have been expected at his age.
The boy shook his head, "Nothing I've heard."
"Do folks around here burn rubbish? No accidents? ANYTHING that would... merit that quantity of smoke?!" John demanded, his desperation thickening the air.
Accidents... heh... this isn't the time, "Sorry mister..." the kid shook his head, his expression sincere as they all turned their attention back to the screen, their eyes riveted on the slow progress of the cloud of white as it approached the passenger side of the car, the young boy within only now noticing the rolling opacity. They watched the window roll all the way up, they watched his hands slap down on the locks for his door and the one behind him, then they watched the white envelop the car.
They sat for several tense seconds until the white that had obscured the screen began to creep off the other side, leaving behind the impala as John had found it, the passenger window smashed and his first born son gone.
"Dude it's like that movie 'The Fog'..." the clerk muttered, clearly amazed at the prospect of watching a movie come to life in his little corner of the world, until he caught sight of the superhuman scowl that burned on John Winchesters' face. "Sorry... but it kinda is...or that other one..." he stopped, NOT NOW dumbass...later.
"Alright enough of the fantasy crap kid... how many other cameras are there?" the detective asked.
They went through the other tape that showed alternating views of the pumps, as well as half of the impala's trunk, during the same time frame, each of them noticing something off, but not quite able to pin it down until the clerk finally spoke up.
"...I don't see any of that smoke, or whatever it was..." he observed pointing at the right rear fender, looking first at the frowning cop then to the man who'd lost his son, the man who's scowl had sent a shudder through him. He wasn't sure exactly what it was he saw in the man's face, but it wasn't the same skepticism the police officer was demonstrating. Could it...nah...it's just a story... still...
"Could it be glare? A bad tape?..." John muttered though his questions sounded half hearted.
"We'll have one of our people go through the tapes, check the connections, check the cameras themselves... see if there's some kind of electrical interference or something..." the detective assured John with a hand on his shoulder, "Do you know where you're going to be staying yet Mr. Winchester?"
"The nearest motel I can find..." he grunted, pressing his mouth to Sammy's ear.
In moments the youngest Winchester squirmed and squealed and fussed reaching for the clerk and the console.
"Deeeaannn!" he howled again and again until the room was full of Sam's two year old voice growing more and more insistent.
"Okay, okay kid... here... I got a cousin about his age ... why don't you let me run the video back for him while you get the motel information together?" he offered, proving to be quite a different type of teen than the face he presented to the world.
"Would you mind?" John asked, wincing against his baby boy's cry for his big brother.
"No way dude... he just wants to see his big brother... don't cha kid?" he asked Sam directly.
Sammy stuck his fist into his mouth, nodding his head while he looked at the kid with wide hopeful eyes. He looked at John then held his hands out to the teenage boy.
"If he gets fussy we'll be right at the counter with the phone book," John nodded.
"Sure thing dude... uh mister..." he nodded rewinding the tape, his eyes on the door until Sam's dad and the police man left, "Hey little man... if you want I can make you a copy of this so you can see your brother later tonight..." he offered reaching for one of several blank tapes on a shelf, "You want that little guy?" he asked.
Sam took his fist out of his mouth and grinned, then leaned forward and kissed the boy on the cheek, "Dean!" he slapped the monitor, "do daddy too?" he asked.
The boy looked out the door toward the counter, his eyes catching sight of John looking back into the room and a slight nod that his little boy returned.
"Aaah so that's it isn't it?" the teen smiled wondering at just what he might have gotten himself caught up in. He honestly didn't have anything against cops, besides the small hassles that usually frustrated them to no end when it came to kids who dressed like him, but there was something about this guy and his kids, the way he'd looked at the smoke rolling toward the car. Yeah, the cops aren't going to be able to help this guy...wonder if I should tell him... nah, he thought quickly copying the 2.3 minutes of the car being swallowed and the smoke receding, then adding the alternating corresponding sequences of the pumps and the unobscured fender after it.
He snapped the hard plastic cover closed over the copy and handed it to John's youngest son just as he and the detective returned.
"For me?" Sam asked clutching the tape to his little belly while his eyes shined with hope.
"Sure kiddo...you can have that one... I gotta give these to this nice police man who's gonna help your pop find your brother okay?" he ruffled the brown mop of hair and smiled as Sam giggled. "Here you go mister... he just wanted to see his brother again," he handed Sam, clutching the VHS tape to his chest to John, then popped out both surveillance tapes and handed them over to the detective.
"Thanks," John smiled tightly, stress written deeply all over his face.
--
Blue light shone through the curtains of the motel room outlining John's black silhouette as he leaned back, bottle in hand, tipped high while white and gray flickered again as he rewound the tape.
A soft knock at the door resulted in the room falling quickly dark before a light came on and the haggard, stubbled face of one papa bear Winchester peered out from behind the cheap curtains.
Frowning in confusion he opened the door sizing up the kid from the gas station.
"How'd you know where I was?" he asked taking the boy by surprise.
"It's the only motel for like 20 miles or something... wasn't that hard... listen... oh hell nevermind... I don't know what the hell I'm doing here... sorry to bug you mister..." he grunted waving quickly and turning on his heel, heading for a silver early 70's Cougar.
"Hold on..." John huffed, "You came here for a reason..."
The boy turned back, his eyes downcast while he scratched his head, "Yeeah... you're gonna think I'm nuts... I shouldn't have bugged you man..."
"It's about the fog isn't it?" John called, "It's not natural is it?"
A trickle of cold ran backwards up the boy's spine as he turned to face the hope in the older man's eyes. "I...who the hell are you man?" he asked returning to the doorstep.
"John Winchester... my boy's in trouble isn't he?" he asked stepping aside to usher the young man into his motel room, "Who're you?"
"Tommy Daykin," he offered his hand, fearlessly peering into the man's deep brown eyes, "... Look, I know what you're gonna say... it's just a freakin' ghost story... but I did some checking and the timing is right..." he nodded as John shut the door.
Tommy pressed 'Play' on the VCR John had hooked up to the TV in the room and nodded upon seeing the corner of the screen begin to fill with the rolling white they'd seen earlier.
"You want a drink?" John offered, raising his bottle of Jack.
"I'm seventeen..." Tommy shook his head.
"Beer?" John offered instead.
Again the boy shook his head, "Nah, I'm good thanks..." and sat beside the older man on the couch.
"So the timing is right for what?" John asked.
"If the stories are true you got two days left to find your son before you gotta wait till next year..." he offered.
John took a deep steadying breath, his eyes shot to the bedroom where it was evident his baby boy was sleeping. "Tell me..."
--
"Where're we going dad?" the recently dubbed Justin asked as his 'pa cranked over the engine on his beat up old ford then wiped his sweat soaked brow.
"Headin' into town to pick up some things for your ma at the store," Ray tussled the boy's dark blonde hair.
"And I get to come too?! Awesome!" he grinned making sure his belt was fastened securely.
"Sure do. Awesome huh? Don't ya mean cool?" Ray asked eyeing the boy curiously as he adjusted the shoulder strap of the belt.
"Sure," Justin grinned his tongue flicking to the half grown in front tooth he'd noticed in the mirror this afternoon, "Mom said there's a fair in town?" he asked as they bounced down the farm road that led to the paved main street half a mile away.
"Sure is and if we get our chores done before supper, and that includes showers and even behind the ears..." he teased flicking the boys' ear, making him shrug his head to the side and giggle, "... then maybe we can go and give you a chance to meet some of the kids you're gonna be going to school with in just a few weeks..."
"Really!?" Justin asked, his eyes wide, and bright enough to be called luminous, "I get to start school?"
"Sure you do... but don't go getting excited or anything... it's only half days..." Ray shot a happy smile to the boy.
"I know the alphabet all the way, and I can even write it! I think...can I pa?" he asked scratching his head, unsure of what exactly he did or didn't know.
"I dunno... let's see... I bet if you do you know the song for sure...wanna try?" he asked.
"Yeah..." Justin nodded.
"I'll start then just in case," he winked and started singing "A,B,C,D,..."
"E,F,G,... H, I, J, K..." the boy chimed in smiling happily,
"LMNOP..." Ray raced.
"Q,R,S... T, U, V..."
"W,X..."
"Y, Z!" Justin finished, bouncing on the seat, feeling every spring beneath the worn leather creaking but he didn't care, I KNOW something... and I KNOW that I know it! he clapped his hand against his knee just like a proper farmer.
"Can I see if I know all my numbers?" he asked.
"Sure y'can son... you go right ahead and count as high as you can!" Ray tussled his hair yet again, never in his life had he been happier. While he listened to the sounds of God's gift in the seat beside him counting, he pondered the fortune that had finally brought a child to him and his wife.
All the years of trying, and praying, and hoping... all the children they'd fostered, all the times they'd been turned down for adoptive privileges because their farm just wasn't able to produce enough to make a stable home and the good Lord had seen fit to put a child right into their hands, neither he nor Missy ever dreamed of such luck and yet here it was.
True, it was terrible that a boy so young already had so much to contend with, holes in his memory, some horrible shouting out nightmares about someone named Sam that he couldn't recall upon waking. The doctors had told Ray the nightmares would stop in time, then had clapped him on the back, congratulating him on how resilient children were, as if it were his doing. Ray Marshall didn't mind though, whatever it took to help his boy through this tough time, by hell or high water, he was up for the challenge! He and his Missy had waited far too long to let anything trouble their son!
--
tbc.
please R&R
Thanks.
sifi.