Dean tossed and turned for the better part of two hours. But it didn't matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get to sleep. It didn't help that the room was quiet - too quiet - which only accentuated the fact that Sammy wasn't there. Usually he fell asleep listening to the sound of his brother's rhythmic breathing as he slept somewhere nearby. And while they had been staying in this motel, the two of them had been sharing a bed. And as Dean lay alone on their bed, he regretfully realized that he had been constantly bickering about it from the moment they moved in. He was always on Sammy's case about taking too much room, moving around too much, hogging the blankets, stealing his pillow and basically just being a pain in the ass.
But now Dean realized just how much he missed his brother.
Deciding that he simply wasn't going to fall asleep, Dean flipped onto his back and put his hands behind his head. He glanced over at his father's bed, thankful that the man was sleeping. If he knew that Dean hadn't slept a wink during the past two hours, there was no way in hell he'd ever let him go on this hunt.
Dean stared up at the ceiling, mulling over the things they had learned. The deputy told them that there were thirteen of them - but he hadn't included the mayor and his wife - which upped the total to fifteen. And that was providing that he hadn't "forgotten" to mention anyone else. Dean thought his father should have pushed the man harder for more names, instead of just taking his word for it; after all, he'd omitted names once so what was to stopping him from doing it again. Unless his father knew something that he hadn't bothered to share with anyone else. And that was entirely possible. And more than probable seeing as it was his father; he usually adhered to the need-to-know theory.
But, supposing the information was accurate, that still left them ten creatures to deal with. Three against ten. Not the best odds, especially when you considered their opponents. The Aswang were more perverse and reprehensible than any creature they had ever encountered before. They looked, acted and spoke like humans. And they could do everything a human being could do.
Which included firing weapons.
At least at night they didn't have that option.
But Dean understood why his father wanted to rescue Sammy during the day. The creatures couldn't eat in human form, which meant that they'd be less likely to tear his brother to pieces if things weren't going well for them. They still preferred a fresh kill over something that had been dead for any length of time.
But what he didn't understand was why his father wanted to wait so long. He could appreciate the fact that the Aswangs were simply using Sammy as bait and that there was a real possibility they'd hurt him in order to keep them at arms length until sundown. But that was going to be true whether they went in now or at 3:00 p.m. And wasn't the plan to kill all of them anyway? So waiting didn't make sense. It would be better to go in now and get it over with. And have plenty of time to spare. At least in Dean's humble opinion.
Dean sighed. He just couldn't understand his father's reasoning. No matter how he looked at it.
"Come on, Sport. You really gotta get some sleep," uttered John wearily.
Dean turned onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow before he responded, "I wish I could, Dad. But I can't. I've tried. I just can't get to sleep knowing Sammy's out there and needs our help."
"Well, you'd help him a lot more by getting some sleep to so you can actually make it through this fight without passing out. You've already had a tough week. And it's gonna get a lot tougher before it's over."
"I know that, Dad but I just can't stop thinkin' about Sammy. And then my mind starts racing and I can't fall asleep."
"Well, you better figure out some way to get to sleep. Because I wasn't kidding when I said you wouldn't be coming if you don't get some rest. I can't be worrying about what might happen to you while I'm in the middle of this fight. I'm gonna have my hands full enough and I just can't afford to be distracted. I need to focus entirely on what I'm doing. And, if you're involved, I need to know that you're gonna be where you're supposed to be, doin' what you're supposed to be doin'. I can't have any doubts lingering in the back of my mind about you losing consciousness again. Can you understand that?"
"Yes Sir."
"Good. Then you better get some sleep if you want to come along."
Dean lay back down, turning his back to his father and staring at the wall. There was no point arguing with the man; he just wasn't going to win. He never did. He might as well just pretend that he was sleeping. If he just lay still enough his father wouldn't be able to tell the difference and then he'd stop threatening to make him stay at the motel. Dean glanced discreetly at his watch. It was 11:45 a.m. Still over three hours to go. And his father probably wouldn't get up much before 2:00 in order to get everything ready. Dean sighed and closed his eyes.
How was he going to survive the next two hours?
"Dean. Wake up."
Dean fought to open his eyes. He couldn't remember falling asleep and he blinked a few times to shake off the remaining fatigue. And he regretfully realized that he was more tired than he had been all week. He lay on the bed, trying desperately to work up the energy to actually get up. He glanced at his watch: 2:00
"Dean. Get up. We have things to do."
"Okay, Dad. I'm comin'. Just wakin' up, that's all," replied Dean sullenly as he swung his legs off the bed and sat up.
"I already let you sleep longer than I should have," stated John. "But I figured you needed the sleep more than I needed the help gathering the weapons. But now you gotta get a move on. Because I wanna be outta here in fifteen minutes."
"Fifteen minutes? I thought we weren't meeting the sheriff until three?"
"We aren't. But I wanna swing by Ricker Street first."
That was all Dean needed to hear to get up. Five minutes later he had joined his father outside at the back of his truck.
John scrutinized his eldest son. "You feelin' okay?"
"Never better."
"Ya know," replied John not at all convinced by his son's response, "I've warned you before about lyin' to me."
Dean didn't even bother to respond. And John didn't pursue the matter.
"We're not playing games on this hunt. There's no rock salt. Just bullets." Indicating a cluster of seven guns separated into three piles, he elaborated, "These guns are all loaded. And I've divided up the extra bullets" He pointed to the pile containing three guns and a stack of spare bullets. "You take those."
Noting that the other two piles contained only two guns each, Dean asked uncertainly, "How come I get three?"
"Because one's for Sammy."
"I'm going in for Sammy?"
"Yep."
"Not that I don't want to, but...why am I goin'?"
"Because they'll be expecting me to do it myself. So I'm sending you in instead."
"Cool."
"No, Dean. It's not cool. It's dangerous. Because, in all likelihood, you're gonna have to square off against Rennick. And Sammy's gonna be with you. So you need to be extremely vigilant."
"Yes Sir," replied Dean keenly; now he understood why his father had been so insistent that he get some rest.
John turned and looked sternly at his eldest son. "Your only objective is to go in, get Sammy and get the hell outta there. If Rennick tries to stop you, kill him. But don't go lookin' for him. You're to focus solely on getting Sammy outta there safely. Anyone else happens to cross your path, shoot them too. But I don't want you stopping to hunt down anyone else. You get Sammy and you come right back here. And both of you are stay here. You got that?"
"Yes Sir."
"I mean it, Dean. No leaving Sammy alone this time. And no gettin' him in any more danger either. You come back here and stay locked in the room. And you don't leave until I get back. That's an order. Understood?"
"Yes Sir."
"Good," stated John abruptly. "Now, we gotta go. You're gonna drive your car to the movie theatre and leave it there for now. We'll go to Ricker Street together. After we're done casing the neighborhood, we'll double-back for your car before we meet up with Sheriff Durham."
Dean nodded while he hastily grabbed the three guns his father had assigned to him. He strapped one to his right leg, tucked one into the waistband of his jeans and put the third one into his jacket pocket, removing his keys at the same time. Then he got in his car and followed his father's truck out of the parking lot.
They drove cautiously through town, keeping a watchful eye out for anyone who might be trailing them. Or for any sign of anyone they would recognize as an Aswang. But the drive was uneventful and they rendezvoused as planned at the movie theatre. Dean parked the Impala and hurriedly jumped into his father's truck.
As Dean swung the passenger door shut, John pulled away and they drove in silence toward their destination; each of them wrapped up in their own thoughts. As they approached the tiny subdivision that was home to their current foes, John slowed the truck and meandered casually through the streets that led to Ricker Street. He wanted to ensure that he was familiar with the street-plan of the entire subdivision in order to ascertain both his strategy and that of his opponents.
He wasn't overly worried about having to confront them too far away from their own houses, figuring that they wouldn't stray too far from Ricker Street because they wouldn't want to alert their unsuspecting neighbors to what was going on. Or to what they really were either. Because their plan would be to fend them off until nightfall when they could begin their assailment in their bestial forms.
Likewise, John really didn't want to get anyone else involved. Not only would it endanger more human lives, he was also sure the townspeople would be quick to rally together in order to aid and protect their elected officials. Because as long as they remained in human form, they would elicit support from their neighbors. And even after dark, the truth would be too outlandish for people to accept.
John drove leisurely through the well-kept streets until he came to Ricker Street. He stopped the truck without bothering to turn onto the street and sat staring down the deceptively ordinary cul-de-sac. It was a rather unremarkable street with bland, commonplace houses; not really where you'd expect the well-to-do town officials to live. But, knowing the truth about the street's occupants, John wasn't at all surprised. After all, these weren't humans trying to impress other humans; they were creatures trying only to blend into their environment. They simply didn't possess the unsavory human traits of greed and conceit.
John was pleased to discover that Ricker Street was actually on the outer edge of the subdivision. Whether the town just hadn't expanded past this point or the mayor had vetoed any further development beyond this street was unclear. But it didn't really matter and as far was John was concerned it was something he could use to his advantage during the day. But he also knew it would be an entirely different story once night fell because the Aswang would be able to hide in the dense foliage. But, in human form, the vegetation wouldn't help them nearly as much.
But it would provide excellent coverage for Dean to gain access to Rennick's house. As well as a perfect escape route.
Ricker Street was a typical modern dead-end with houses spaced evenly apart on both sides of the road ending in wide circular turnabout so cars could turn around to go back down the street. And, of course the house at the far end in the middle of the turnabout belonged to Mayor Rennick.
Glancing quickly at Dean, John motioned toward the mayor's house, "That's Rennick's. You'll be able to get to it through those woods. And once you get Sammy, you can cut through them to make your escape."
"So all I really have to do is find a safe place to leave my car," replied Dean as he carefully scouted the edge of the blanketed woods.
"And I'm going to leave you to do that on your own. I don't want to drive around much more. I'm sure our presence hasn't gone unnoticed. And I don't want to give them any leads as to what we're planning to do."
"Not a problem, Dad. I can do this."
"I know you can, Dean. That's why I'm letting you do it. I'm counting on you. And so is Sammy."
John put the truck into gear and quickly drove Dean back to the movie theatre to get the Impala. He waited while Dean got into his vehicle and started it before he drove off toward the sheriff's station.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
From his seat at the far end of the table, he was able to maintain an unobstructed view of the entire street. And, even though he was presiding over this useless meeting, his attention was actually focused elsewhere. Outside to be exact. Because he was vigilantly watching for the hunter.
He knew that it was only a matter of time before the hunter showed. He was more than a little surprised that he hadn't arrived before now. But one thing he had learned in his dealings with humans was that they were a highly unpredictable species. And, seeing as this human was so dissimilar to any other human he had ever before encountered, he guessed that he really shouldn't be that surprised. After all, he knew he would come. That much was certain. He simply wasn't going to leave his youngest offspring in their clutches. Because he knew the fate that would await him.
And that was what was causing the current squabble at the table. The others were bickering when they should kill the boy. Most of them wanted to dispense with him now, but he knew that waiting was the most prudent option. Because there were still too many hours of daylight remaining.
And because the hunter had yet to show his face.
He had momentarily entertained the idea of killing the child before the hunter arrived. But then he had thought better of it. Simply because the hunter possessed both skill and intelligence. And if they prematurely killed the boy it was entirely possible that they would lose a valuable bargaining chip. Should it happen to come down to that.
So he had decided that the child would remain alive.
For now.
Besides, there were other matters to attend to. Completing their strategy was the most urgent. And, although the others thought they were playing a vital role, the truth was far different. Because all he really needed them for was a diversion. Something to exhaust the hunter and deplete his ammunition.
The hunter would have to make it past all of the others first. Before he made it to him. Or to his son. And although it was possible that he could succeed in doing that, the likelihood was miniscule at best. Oh, he would certainly kill a few of the others. Because what battle was ever without casualties? But they were all expendable. And replaceable. There were others that could easily take their places. And ingrain themselves into the human's society just as these ones had done.
The most important thing was that he survive. He had to. In order to maintain his dominance in the community. Both that of his own species and of the humans. All of his hard work couldn't go to waste.
Because this was still the perfect hunting ground.
And he wasn't about to let that tiresome hunter ruin it all.
Just as the final preparations were being carefully construed, he finally caught a glimpse of the hunter. Sitting in his vehicle at the very end of the street. Looking down the street towards them. And not even bothering to try to remain unseen.
He wondered if perhaps the hunter was taking this a little too flippantly. Maybe the hunter was smarter than he was giving him credit for. But he dismissed that idea as quickly as it had come to him.
After all, he was only a human.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
John turned into the parking lot behind the sheriff's station and parked directly behind the building. As he prepared to exit the vehicle Dean pulled the Impala into the spot beside him and they proceeded into the station together.
John walked through the front door and he was somewhat surprised to see a female deputy sitting behind the desk. As they approached the desk the officer looked up and informed them that the sheriff was expecting them and they could go ahead into his office. With a slight smile intended to convey his thanks, John walked past the deputy and headed toward the sheriff's office with Dean following close behind.
Seeing them approach, Sheriff Durham motioned for them to enter his office before they had a chance to knock on his closed door. John walked in first and held the door open for Dean before he shut it again in order to maintain some privacy. Both Winchesters took seats across from the sheriff.
"That deputy?" asked John, his concern evident regarding her real identity.
"She's my niece," replied the sheriff, not feeling the need to elaborate further.
Satisfied by the sheriff's answer, John turned the conversation to the matter at hand.
"Dean and I just came from Ricker Street and I think we'll be able to use its isolation to our advantage. Dean will be able to go through the woods to get to Rennick's house while we mount our offensive from the street. That'll also provide cover for Dean while he goes in to get Sammy."
"Dean's going in for your other son?" asked the sheriff. "Wouldn't it be a better idea for you to do it?"
"No. Simply because that's what they'll be expecting. And they're gonna assume that we'll all arrive together so I'm hoping that, when they realize that Dean isn't with us, they'll think I decided against having him involved."
"You don't think that's a bit of a stretch?"
"Not really. They've already got Sammy so when we show up without Dean, they'll assume I don't want to risk his safety too. Remember, they're not human so they're not gonna think like we do. In fact, they're more apt to conclude that we'll act just like they would. And they're gonna be very confident in their ability to outwit and overpower us, believing that we know that too. So when they notice there's only two of us, it'll mistakenly boost their confidence. And cause them to let their guard down a bit."
"You figure they'll focus all their attention on us which will leave Dean free to sneak in from the back way."
"Exactly."
"But, isn't that forcing Dean to deal with Rennick?"
"I can handle him," injected Dean confidently, "He's only one guy."
"Yeah, I realize that," conceded the sheriff reluctantly, "But I doubt he's a lightweight in any category. He's managed to successfully infiltrate himself into our society and been able to pass himself off as human - for quite a few years too. And he's gotta hold an equivalent level of power within his own species. Which can't have happened without some sort of conflict or confrontation. He's certainly not gonna be a pushover."
Although Dean realized that the sheriff was probably only concerned for his wellbeing, he was still somewhat offended by the man's apparent lack of confidence in him and his ability. But he did try to keep the irritation out of his voice when he replied, "I have done this before, you know. It's not my first time."
Before Sheriff Durham could respond, John commenced, "As soon as Rennick sees us, he'll give the signal for the rest of them to come out and head us off. And he'll be watching to see what happens. If he feels we're making too much headway against the rest of them, he'll start to think about bringing Sammy out to stop us. He'll try to use him to hold us off until nightfall. But, as long as we simply maintain our position without actually appearing to be overtaking them, Rennick will be content to sit back and watch. And when we do begin to attack in earnest, Dean will have already gotten Sammy to safety."
"But what if he's keeping your son with him and decides to parade him out in front of us before Dean's even had a chance to get in?"
"Well, if that's his plan, then he'll definitely be focused entirely on the battle. He won't be anticipating Dean's involvement at all. And, therefore, won't be expecting him to sneak up behind him. So it would be entirely possible that Dean would be able to kill him without Rennick even knowing he's there."
"You don't think he'll keep another Aswang with him? Just in case he thinks this type of scenario might play out?"
"No. It simply won't occur to him."
"How can you be so sure about all of this?"
"Because of our previous encounters with them. All their attempts to stop us have been extremely straightforward. They come up with a plan and when it doesn't work, they regroup and formulate another one. They've never had any sort of backup plan. The first attack on Dean was completely solitary. Then they had three of them ambush me at Brewer Park while another one attacked Dean here in one of your cells. And your deputy, who was an Aswang, didn't even stick around to help out his buddy just in case something went wrong. Their attacks on us this morning showed little more foresight. They only had one Aswang cover each of us. And that was after they already knew we could thwart them. But they still think they can outsmart us. They're not going to start thinking differently now."
"Well, I certainly hope you're right," stated the sheriff, "Because I'm still a bit apprehensive about this entire plan."
"I expect you to be," admitted John. "I'd be more worried if you weren't."
"I suppose I should find that comforting," replied the sheriff.
John grinned. Then he finished detailing his plan, telling Dean that he wanted him to go back to the motel when he left the sheriff's station. If Rennick had anyone watching them, they'd be sure to see him leave and draw the assumption that John was making him stay out of the fight. And even if they followed him to verify where he was going, as soon as they determined that he'd gone back to the safety of the motel room, they'd be in a hurry to get back to Ricker Street in order to aid the others.
John and the sheriff would leave the station and head directly to Ricker Street; but they weren't going to initiate a confrontation right away. They'd drive slowly around the neighborhood, taking extra time to traverse Ricker Street to give their enemy ample time to monitor their movements. That would also enable Dean to drive across town before they engaged the Aswang. All John intended to do for the better part of the first hour was to stave off their enemy; they weren't going to kill more than one or two of them during that time. He wanted to lull them into a false sense of security as well as ensuring that Rennick felt confident in securing a victory.
At precisely 4:25 p.m. John and the sheriff were going to begin the legitimate offensive against the Aswang and, as soon as he heard the increase in the onslaught, Dean was to use that opportunity to get into Rennick's house as quickly as he could. John was giving him twenty minutes to get in, get Sammy and get the hell out of there. That was all the time they could spare.
John sternly reminded Dean yet again that as soon as he got Sammy out of the house, he was to go back to the motel. No heroics. And no showboating. Get Sammy to safety. That was it; that was all. John and the sheriff would take care of the remaining Aswangs. He reiterated to Dean the importance of the order and it stated firmly that it was nonnegotiable. No matter what happened. And there'd be a severe reprimand should he choose to ignore it.
Dean nodded. He'd already made more than a few mistakes where his brother was concerned since they'd moved to this town and he wasn't about to do it again. Besides, they'd fought similar battles with just the three of them; having Sheriff Durham on their side was a definite plus. And it made Dean a little less apprehensive about leaving his father to fight the Aswang without his involvement.
With their strategy effectively mapped out, the time had finally come to put their plan into action. It was 3:20 p.m. Which left them with just over two hours before dark fell. Plenty of time to achieve their goal.
After the three men had synchronized their watches, John looked at Dean and tilted his head in the direction of the door. "Get going."
No sooner were the words out of his father's mouth before Dean shot up and dashed out the door. He'd been itching to get going ever since they'd discovered that Sammy was missing and now that the time was finally here, he wasn't about to waste any more time sitting around. Especially seeing as he had to drive back to the motel first.
John and the sheriff watched him go before they too got up to leave. As they walked out to the main reception desk, the sheriff stopped to talk to the deputy on duty. He told her that he had some important business to take care of and under no circumstances was he to be disturbed or contacted. She was to disregard all calls or requests for police assistance regarding any type of disturbance or unusual activity near Meadow Creek subdivision, informing the caller politely they were aware of it and that it was official police business.
In response to the bewildered look she threw him, he told her that he was involved in a state-wide operation involving various law enforcement agencies and he simply wasn't at liberty to discuss it further. The confused deputy threw John a quick look, wondering what government agency he might work for. But she wisely refrained from asking any more questions.
Just as John and the sheriff turned to leave, the front door swung open and both men were more than a little peeved to see Greg Leavey walk into the station, blocking their exit.
"Greg," greeted the disgruntled sheriff with a sigh, "What are you doing here?"
Glancing quickly at John, the deputy-mayor answered, "I came down here to see if you've found my car yet?"
"Not yet. But there's an APB on it."
"That's all you've done? You haven't followed up on the leads I gave you?"
Sheriff Durham also glanced at John before he addressed the question, "None of it panned out."
"Nothing at all?" asked Greg Leavey unconvinced.
"That's what I said," snapped Sheriff Durham staring harshly at the deputy-mayor as if daring him to say anything else.
Undeterred by the sheriff's punitive gaze, Greg Leavey stared at John and continued, "Well, seeing as I'm here, I think I'd like to go ahead and have you press those charges against Mr. Winchester here."
"What charges would those be, Greg?" responded a very exasperated sheriff.
"For the assault and battery. At the hospital."
The sheriff closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again he cast an annoyed look at the deputy-mayor and stated, "Greg, I really don't have time for this right now
"Are you willfully neglecting your duties, Bob? Or just protecting this thug?" queried the deputy-mayor with a nod of his head toward John.
"It's not me who needs protecting," input John acrimoniously.
"Did you just threaten me?" beseeched the deputy-mayor incredulously.
"I didn't hear anything resembling a threat," injected Sheriff Durham before John could answer. "Now look Greg, I'm kinda in the middle of something important right now. We can address the charges later."
"And run the risk of this hooligan and his low-life family leaving town? I don't think so."
By this point, John had had enough. Greg Leavey was still standing in the doorway, blocking their exit so John strode boldly up to him and announced menacingly, "I'd get outta my way if I were you."
"Well, that certainly sounded like a threat…wouldn't you agree, Bob?" retorted Mr. Leavey without moving an inch.
"Honestly, Greg…I didn't hear Mr. Winchester say anything," countered the sheriff as he walked around John and proceeded toward the door. "But, he's right. You should get outta the way."
With both the sheriff and John staring fiercely at him, Greg Leavey hesitantly took a step to the side. As the two men walked past him and exited the building he called after them, "You're gonna have to answer for this, Bob! It's not over! Not by a long shot!"
But neither John nor Sheriff Durham turned around or acknowledged him.
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Dean raced back to the motel; this plan was moving just a little too slow for his liking. He would have much preferred to have just headed back to Ricker Street. But he knew why he had to go back to the motel first.
He screeched the Impala to a stop right in front of the motel door and exited the vehicle with an exaggerated flourish, slamming the car door shut behind him. Then he proceeded into the motel in the same angry manner. Dean plopped himself down on the bed and looked at his watch. It was 3:35, giving him fifty minutes to get over to Ricker Street before he was to go in for his brother.
Dean knew he couldn't leave just yet; it would take him about fifteen minutes to drive across town. Even if it took him a few minutes to find an appropriate location to leave the Impala, he would still have too much time to spare. And that would mean that there was a greater chance he'd been seen. As much as he didn't want to, Dean knew he'd have to sit tight for at least another fifteen minutes.
So he grabbed the remote, swung his legs onto the bed, leaned back and turned on the TV. But no amount of channel surfing managed to ease his anxiety. Nor help the time pass. And there simply wasn't anything worth watching anyway. Finally, in total frustration, he turned it off. Tossing the remote onto the bed beside him, he closed his eyes, trying to will himself to relax.
But that also proved to be an exercise in futility.
Two minutes later, he was up and pacing impatiently around the room. And constantly looking at his watch.
3:42…
3:44…
3:45…
He sighed and sat down at the table by the window. He resisted the urge to pull the curtain back and see what was happened outside. If there was someone watching the room, he didn't want to give them any reason to think about sticking around. Instead, he folded his arms on the table and put his head down on top of them.
3:47…
Still a bit too early to leave. So he decided to complete a final check of his weapons before to help pass the time. He pulled the gun out of his pocket and checked the chamber: loaded with silver bullets just as his father had said. Then he repeated the procedure with the two remaining guns before he once again glanced at his watch.
3:51…
Finally.
Dean stood up and almost ran the measly few feet to the door. But he opened it cautiously, carefully checking for any sign that someone might be still be watching him. But there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary so he quickly strode out the door and jumped hurriedly into the Impala.
As he drove across town, Dean kept a vigilant eye out for anyone who might be following him. He even detoured through a few residential areas just to be sure. As he approached his destination, he intentionally veered away from Ricker Street, choosing instead to remain on the outer edge of the subdivision.
Dean glanced at his watch again: 4:06.
Perfect timing. He drove onto one of the backstreets closer to Ricker Street. He followed that street until he came to an adjoining one that also happened to border the forest, quickly determining it to be a good place for him to leave the car.
Dean parked the Impala at the far end of the street, as close as he could get to the wooded area. But he didn't get out of the car right away. He sat stoically in the vehicle, carefully scrutinizing the neighborhood for any sign of trouble. But it was amazingly quiet for a Saturday afternoon and his didn't see anything to cause him concern. So, with a relieved sigh, he got out of the Impala and dashed into the darkened thicket.