John eased up on the gas as he approached Ricker Street to let the sheriff's cruiser catch up to him. It was imperative that they arrive together. They had to ensure that the Aswangs' focus was directed entirely on them so that Dean's arrival in the subdivision went unnoticed. Because that was a vital part of their plan.
John glanced at his watch: 3:50 p.m. Time to begin their assault.
John pounded his foot down heavily on the gas pedal, instantly accelerating the truck as he turned sharply onto Ricker Street. The increased momentum threw the truck into a violent tailspin as it skidded around the corner before John slammed on the brakes, lurching the truck to an abrupt halt diagonally across the road with its front wheels pressed tightly to the curb. And while the truck was still rocking viciously on its wheels, Sheriff Durham duplicated John's maneuvers, careening his cruiser to a screeching stop just inches from the truck's back bumper so that the two vehicles were essentially blocking Ricker Street off from the rest of the subdivision.
And that was exactly what they wanted.
Simultaneously exiting their vehicles, John and Sheriff Durham emerged with their weapons drawn. After briefly establishing eye contact, they turned around to face the proposed battleground, both of them standing steadfastly behind the vehicular barricade as they scanned the street for any signs that their flamboyant arrival had elicited a reaction from their enemy. And within seconds a flurry of activity could be seen in the vicinity around Rennick's house. Still, neither John nor the sheriff moved; both of them intent on maintaining their current position. Because they were biding their time.
And enticing their enemy to come to them.
Because they knew they would. The Aswang would seek them out because that was their nature; they were predators. Predators that weren't content to play a waiting game. Not now that their prey was within reach. Now they would have no restraint. No willpower. Because they wanted their prey. And they wanted it now.
That was the big difference between hunters and predators.
And John and the sheriff were hunters.
Hunters who were content to wait. Because waiting was all part of their plan. They intended to wait for however long it took their enemy to draw near. Because they were buying time. Time that was desperately needed for Dean to get Sam to safety. Time they would use to dissuade their foes and keep them at bay without actually doing anything to cause them concern.
And while they were toying with them, John and the sheriff would wield guns loaded with ordinary, everyday buckshot; there was no point wasting their silver bullets until the real battle commenced. So until then, regular bullets would suffice. Just while they kept their enemy distracted. Kept them occupied. Diverted their attention away from Dean. And lead them to believe that they were depleting their valuable ammunition.
So they watched and waited as the Aswang moved closer; ducking and dodging behind houses and around bushes and fences while they ventured toward them. They had no doubt been deployed under Rennick's orders. But these creatures weren't accustomed to stalking their prey while they were in human form. Nor were they used to hunting during the day. And their inexperience in both aspects showed. Their inept approach was about as clandestine as a herd of elephants parading across a barren desert. And if the circumstances hadn't been as serious as they were, their bumbling advancement would have been laughable. Their constrained footsteps and hushed whispers could easily be overheard, making it more than obvious that this was anything but a conventional hunt for them.
As the Aswang reached their designated positions, an eerie silence befell the entire area. It was almost as if some sort of impasse had been reached. But it was only the calm before the storm. An uncanny calm that was permanently interrupted when, from the corner of his eye, John glimpsed an almost indiscernible, split-second flash of light coming from the hedges just off to his left. At the same time, a loud, unmistakable blast of gunfire emanated from the other side of the road, irrevocably breaking the artificial tranquility that had momentarily surrounded them
John wrenched his body quickly to the left, skillfully firing into the bushes where he had witnessed the short-lived flash. Caught off-guard by John's unprovoked actions, the would-be saboteur leapt haphazardly from the shrubbery to a more secure location behind the house, dropping his weapon in his flight. Which proved to John once again just how cowardly the Aswang really were.
While John dealt successfully with that prospective assailant, Sheriff Durham sought out the location of the gunman on the opposite side of the road. And it didn't take him long to find him; crouched on the far side of a house on the right-hand side of the street, preparing to shoot again. But, before he had a chance to get a second shot off, Sheriff Durham fired back at him. Panic quickly washed over the man's face as the bullet narrowly missed his shoulder. But, it had been a calculated move on Sheriff Durham's part as he had purposely shot wide and it was only for that reason that the gunman escaped with his life.
And just as he discharged his weapon, the sheriff pinpointed another shooter targeting him from behind a fence. Pivoting quickly toward him, Sheriff Durham fired off a single shot that nicked the astonished man's gun, causing him to drop it and leaving him defenseless and vulnerable. Sheriff Durham fired again and the man retreated behind the fence and out of sight.
Meanwhile John was engaged in a good old-fashioned gunfight against numerous opponents, which had begun only moments after he had dispensed of the gunman in the bushes. An ill-aimed shot had blasted past him from further up the cul-de-sac. And as John tried to ferret out this new adversary, a second shot whizzed past him from a completely different angle. Glancing quickly in the direction from which that shot had come, John immediately spotted the exposed shooter standing in the driveway of the second house up the street. With all the dexterity of a seasoned professional, John whipped his arm around and fired at him, providing the initial gunman with an open and uncontested shot at him.
But John immediately swung his arm back toward that gunman, shooting continuously. The barrage of bullets splaying towards him distracted John's nemesis and he lost his focus, resulting in his next shot going astray. But just as John leveled his gun on the man and pulled the trigger, a hail of gunfire rained down on him from a second storey window in a nearby house. Ducking hurriedly behind the truck, John extracted the now-spent cartridge from his pistol and replaced it with a new one while Sheriff Durham spun around and opened fire on the snipers, expertly warding them off with a rapid-fire onslaught of bullets.
Still crouched behind the truck, John glanced up just in time to see another gunman zeroing in on the sheriff's back. John promptly hoisted his pistol and fired. His shot hit the assailant on the shoulder and he momentarily staggered backwards. When he regained his balance, he glanced at his injured shoulder before he once again took aim at the two humans behind the truck. Knowing that the man had discovered that the bullets they were using weren't fatal to him, John made a spur-of-the-moment decision and grabbed the gun from the waistband of his jeans. As he hastily fired at his opponent, John hurled himself onto the ground to avoid being hit by the returning gunshot.
But the rival gunman wasn't nearly as insightful and the bullet from John's gun struck him squarely in the chest, immediately beginning its caustic decimation of its victim. With the silver bullet mercilessly eating away at his body, the unfortunate assailant realized his inevitable plight and dropped his gun to clutch desperately at his torso. But there was nothing he could do to stop the bullet from painfully lacerating his insides and his agony ended only when he finally burst into a million little pieces.
A momentary lapse in fighting occurred immediately after the annihilation of the first victim of this war as the stark reality of the situation burned into all the combatants' minds. This wasn't a game; they were playing for keeps. And it was a fight to the finish. But as expected, the ceasefire didn't last and within seconds the air was once again filled with the heavy reverberation of gunfire.
But the lull had lasted just long enough for John to stand up and he swiftly joined Sheriff Durham in the newly reinstated battle. The sheriff had successfully quashed the assault from the window, but the gunman at the far end of the street had remained unchallenged and had fired off a few sporadic shots at the sheriff. But his aim was faulty due not only to the distance involved but also because he had never before been involved in this type of battle. Nor had he ever brandished a weapon of any kind either.
But John's hadn't forgotten about him and, as he rose to his feet, he spied the gunman in the distance and immediately opened fired. The shot missed its target just as John had intended but it hadn't been far enough off the mark to be deemed ineffective. Because as the bullet zipped past him, the humanoid Aswang reeled backwards before he too turned tail and ran.
Meanwhile, Sheriff Durham had spotted another combatant lurking behind a tree midway up the street. Intent on simply intimidating him, the sheriff aimed at the tree and discharged his weapon. An earsplitting shot filled the air as the bullet penetrated the tree, startling the perpetrator standing behind it and, without even attempting to shoot back, the frightened being twirled around and raced back to the safety of the house. And as he ran, Sheriff Durham sprayed a continuous bombardment of bullets at the ground just behind his fleeing heels.
John's attention was now focused on a semi-concealed opponent hiding inside a garage. The gunman was obviously unaware that his position had been made and he was caught by surprise when a bullet torpedoed loudly into the side of the garage. But, unlike most of his fellow warriors, he actually managed to maintain his focus and retaliate with a well-aimed shot that just barely missed John's head. John had dodged the bullet by instinctively crouching behind the truck and as soon as it had soared harmlessly past him, he once again fired at his opponent; this time hitting him in the leg.
As the anguished man recoiled inside the garage, the shrill buzz of the alarm on John's watch sounded; its welcome resonation informing both John and the sheriff that it was now 4:25. And that meant that it was time to stop fooling around. Both men quickly discarded their current weapons in favor of more formidable firearms. Ones that would easily kill their opponents.
Praying that Dean had successfully made it into position, John cocked his gun, this time aiming accurately at the closest Aswang. And from the corner of his eye, he could see Sheriff Durham do the same.
It was time to end this war.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Dean crept through the disheveled undergrowth, cautiously making his way toward Ricker Street. He moved slowly and deliberately, listening intensely for any indication that he was being followed while he also watched fervently for any sign of movement. But the only discernible movement came from the leaves as the wind rustled quietly through them and the only sounds he heard were the distant echoes of gunfire. Gunfire that he knew came from the mock battle his father and the sheriff were staging against the Aswangs. A battle with the sole purpose of allowing him time to steal unnoticed through the woods until he reached the mayor's house.
Dean glanced at his watch: 4:18. He looked up and once again stared straight ahead into the dense thicket. He had no idea how close he was to his destination. But he only had seven minutes to get there. And hopefully leave himself with enough time to spare so that he could correctly ascertain the situation he was walking into. Find out if there was anyone left guarding Rennick's house. Or any other Aswangs in the area that he'd have to deal with before he went in for his brother.
And determine just how difficult it was actually going to be to breach the distance to Rennick's house and get inside.
Dean took a deep breath before he commenced his excursion through the overgrown vegetation. It wasn't long before he could see a break in the shadows; an erratic scattering of sunshine filtering in through the jumbled foliage. Taking care to remain vigilant, Dean moved stealthily toward the light until he came to the edge of the woods where he knelt down quietly behind a tree to ensure that he remained hidden from view.
Peering out amongst the sparse vegetation, Dean scrutinized the adjoining housing development in order to establish his exact location and determine how far he was from Rennick's backyard. Based on the perimeter of the woods as they gave way to manicured lawns, Dean reasoned that he was only about three houses away from the mayor's house.
Staying far enough inside the woods so that he wouldn't be seen, Dean traversed discretely toward his destination, remaining close enough to the edge of the woods that he could still see the houses. And be able to detect any Aswangs that might be lingering in the area. But, aside from the occasional glimpse of an Aswang that was either retreating from the gun fight or repositioning itself to re-enter the battle, there was nothing to cause him concern. And as much as Dean wanted to shoot every one of the enemy that he saw, he realized that doing so would only be detrimental to his goal. So Dean resisted shooting any of them, leaving them for his father and Sheriff Durham to deal with.
When he arrived at the mayor's backyard, Dean once again glanced at his watch. It was 4:24. And that only left him with one minute to complete an inspection of Rennick's backyard and determine how he was going to get into the house. Thankfully, the immediate area was devoid of activity with all their adversaries involved in the battle.
So Dean concentrated on the house itself. He judged that it was approximately twenty yards from the edge of the woods to the house. And Dean was confident that he'd be able to cover that distance without being seen. And although he didn't think he'd have any trouble breaking in through the backdoor, he knew it would be a much better idea to get in through a basement window. Because then he could search the basement for Sammy before he chanced wandering through the rest of the house. If he went in through the back door, he'd be forced to decide which way to go first. Upstairs or down. And that would mean that he'd have to retrace his steps one way or the other. Not only would that be a gigantic waste of time, it would also increase his chances of getting caught.
So Dean carried out a quick evaluation of the basement windows, estimating them to be about two feet tall and three feet wide. Which was plenty big enough for him to be able to crawl through. And he knew exactly which window he was going to access; the one furthest away from the backdoor. Because, chances were, that the backdoor was located in close proximity to the basement stairs, making that far window the furthest away. And any noise he made getting in the house would be muffled by the distance and less likely to travel up the stairs to the main floor where there was a good chance Rennick would hear it.
A quick glance at his watch confirmed what Dean already knew; that it was 4:25. And time to go get Sammy. So with a final sweeping look around, Dean bolted from the bushes and dashed toward the house. He breached the distance without incident and threw himself on the ground when he reached the house. He immediately rolled over, sweeping over the yard with his gun ready to shoot while he scanned the yard for any sign that he had been seen. But there was nothing out of the ordinary and nothing moved except the leaves in the trees. So Dean turned his attention back to the task at hand.
The window was locked. But that wasn't going to be a problem. Like most window locks, this one was designed to keep the elements out; not prevent someone from getting in. So Dean hastily grabbed the screwdriver out of his pocket and shoved it between the two panes of glass. He quickly looked over his shoulder again before he seized the screwdriver with both hands and, trying to be as quiet as possible, he cautiously pulled it towards him until he heard the brusque snap of the window lock as it broke.
Pleased that it had been a relatively cheap lock and hadn't generated an overabundance of noise, Dean marveled at how fast and easy it had been to pry the window open. It had taken him less than a minute. And required minimal effort. Obviously Rennick wasn't concerned about theft. But why would he be? He wasn't really human so all the things that humans collected and cherished wouldn't mean anything to him. So there wouldn't be any reason for him to worry about the security of his house.
With the lock broken, Dean slowly slid the window open. Then he guardedly poked his head inside to peer into the basement. But the interior was dark and he had to wait a moment for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light. And once they did, he noticed that there was little in the basement. It was unfinished and clutter-free; in fact, it appeared to be just one big empty room.
Not detecting any movement inside, Dean slowly lowered himself through the window and landed softly on the floor. Then he stealthily made his way to the basement stairs. When he reached the staircase, he turned around and pressed his back against the wall while he listened carefully for any sounds to indicate that his arrival had been detected. But nothing happened so he cautiously poked his head around the corner and looked up the stairs. With no sign of anyone nearby, Dean stole silently up the stairs, holding his gun firmly against his chest with both hands; ready to aim and shoot at the first sign of trouble.
As he made his way to the landing, Dean paused once again, waiting for any hint that Rennick may be lurking nearby but was only met with silence. So either Rennick hadn't heard him enter the house or he was so engrossed in the ensuing battle that he hadn't stirred from his vantage point. Dean looked hesitantly around the corner onto the main floor. At the top of the stairs was a short hallway that ending at the kitchen on the right and, on the left, just a few feet away was another staircase that led to the second storey. The hall continued on until it opened into a corridor that seemed to be the division between the living and dining rooms.
The sun shining in through a big front window cast an elongated shadow across the floor in the corridor. But it wasn't distorted enough to be unrecognizable. It was obviously the shadow of a person and Dean was certain that it was Rennick; he must be watching the ensuing battle from the security of his living room.
Dean stepped quietly onto the main-floor, keeping his back pressed firmly against the wall as he slunk down the hall. He kept his eyes glued to the shadow on the floor, anxiously watching for any indication that Rennick was going to head his way. But the shadow didn't move and he was able make it to the end of the hall without incident.
Standing as close to the end of the wall as he dared, Dean cautiously glanced into the living room. He could clearly see Rennick standing in the window with his back to him. And, although he couldn't see the entire room, Dean didn't think that Sammy was with him; he was willing to bet that he was probably locked in a bedroom upstairs.
During the entire time he had been in the house Dean hadn't heard any conversation. And if Sammy was anywhere near Rennick, Dean knew that his brother would have said something by now. Because Sammy would know that they were going to come for him. So, to make it as easy as possible to find him, Sammy would initiate a conversation.
And Rennick hadn't even turned around. So he wasn't concerned about his captive moving. Which also indicated that Sammy wasn't with him.
After quickly glancing into the dining room, Dean inched his way back to the stairs; his attention never veering from the shadow on the ground until he lost sight of it as he slowly and quietly edged his way up the stairs. When he reached the top, Dean quickly darted away from the staircase to avoid being seen should Rennick decide to abandon his post and venture into the hallway. Looking down the upstairs hall Dean immediately guessed which room Sammy would be in. And that would be the only room with a closed door.
Dean sidestepped down the hall, passing only one other bedroom on his way. But a quick inspection of that room confirmed that his brother wasn't there so Dean continued toward the closed door. Reaching it, Dean wasn't surprised to see that the privacy lock had been installed with the lock on this side of the door. It was obviously meant to keep something locked securely inside the room. And he was willing to bet that that something was Sammy.
Dean jumped across the hall, sliding his back against the wall beside the bedroom door. Scanning the locking mechanism, Dean was pleased to discover that it was going to be a cinch to unlock the door and get inside; all he had to do was turn the privacy bolt with his fingers. Then it was a simple turn of the doorknob and he'd be in.
Piece of cake.
Releasing the gun with his left hand, Dean pointed it down the hall in the direction of the stairs, prepared to shoot should Rennick emerge. He pinched the privacy bolt between his fingers and turned it slowly, taking extra care that it didn't make any noise as it unlocked. Then he gently grabbed hold of the doorknob, turning it slowly until it released the latch. When he had turned the knob as far as it would go, Dean warily eased the door open, sliding himself along with it. He opened it just far enough to slip inside before he swiftly darted into the room, spinning around in full circle behind the door.
He had no sooner entered the room when he caught sight of something moving behind him. Turning around quickly, Dean grabbed the attacker's upraised arm in one hand as he slammed the unknown figure into the wall, pinning him forcefully across the chest with his other arm.
"Dean? What are you doing here?"
"Got invited to dinner. What the hell do you think I'm doing here?" snipped Dean as he pushed his arm off his brother's chest and grabbed the lamp that Sam held in his upraised hand. Then glancing suspiciously between his brother and the lamp, he asked incredulously, "You were actually going to hit me with this?"
"I thought you might be someone else," stated Sam in annoyance as he grabbed his injured shoulder and massaged it with his hand.
Realizing that he had jarred his brother's shoulder when he slammed him against the wall, Dean uttered, "Sorry" before he put the lamp on the dresser and walked over to the window to peer outside.
"What's goin' on out there?" asked Sam, walking over to join him.
"Gunfight."
"Thanks Einstein. Like I hadn't figured that out already." When Dean didn't elaborate any further, Sam asked, "So whose house is this? And how'd you manage to find me?"
"Rennick's" replied Dean turning to face his brother. "And I can find you anywhere, Sammy. I have this little Sammy homing device installed in my brain. So just remember – you can run, but you can't hide. Not from your big brother."
Sam rolled his eyes but chose to ignore his brother's last comments, asking instead, "This is Rennick's house? As in Mayor Rennick?"
"Your powers of deduction are simply amazing, Sammy. In fact, you're a regular Sherlock Holmes," retorted Dean before he wandered over to the door and put his ear against it to listen for any noises in the hallway. "Now if you'd just stop trying to kill me, I might even admit that you're not half bad as a brother."
"How was I supposed to know it was you?"
"Well, who else did you think it could be?"
"Maybe whoever brought me here."
"And this guy – whoever he might be - would just ease the door open slowly like that? Wouldn't it make more sense for him to just barge in?"
"I dunno. I didn't stop to psychoanalyze it," answered Sam heatedly.
"Well, maybe you should have. Especially with what's goin' on outside. You shoulda known it was Dad and me. And that we'd be coming to get you." Dean lifted his ear from the door as he pulled one of the spare guns from the waistband of his jeans and handed it to his brother. "Here. Take this."
"A gun?"
"No Stupid, it's a rattle. Just be careful where it's pointin' when you shake it. Of course it's a gun. You've seen one before, ya know. And I'm pretty sure you've even fired one on occassion."
"Shut up, Dean."
Dean slowed pulled the door open just wide enough to be able to peek down the hall and after he had satisfied himself that the hallway was indeed empty, he opened it wide enough to step through. Glancing back at Sam, he whispered, "Com' on" before he walked warily into the hallway.
Cautiously following his brother, Sam also sidled quietly down the hall until he caught up with Dean, who had stopped just shy of the top of the stairs and was discreetly peering down them.
Ascertaining that the coast was clear, Dean turned to look at Sammy. "Stay close," he ordered quietly as he gingerly stepped down onto the first stair.
They descended down the stairs, hesitating briefly between each step and keeping their guns poised and ready in front of them. Dean kept his eyes focused on the floor in front of the stairs in the event that a shadow should suddenly appear. But when he reached the bottom stair without incident, Dean paused and held up his left hand to signal Sam to stop. Then he cautiously glanced up and down the hallway as an extra safeguard before he took the final step onto the main floor.
Dean swung left with his gun still drawn, mindful that Rennick was somewhere in the house. But he saw nothing to indicate that the mayor was lying in wait for them so Dean motioned for Sam to proceed the rest of the way down the stairs. Sam focused his attention to the right as he stepped off the stairs and immediately noticed a doorway a short distance away.
"Backdoor," mouthed Dean, tilting his head in the direction of the stairwell.
Sam nodded to indicate that he understood what his brother wanted him to do and he slowly advanced toward the doorway, keeping his gun aimed steadily in front of him. Dean continued watching in the other direction as he walked backwards, making sure he stayed as close to his brother as possible. As Sam reached the open doorway, he chanced a look into the stairwell and noticed that there were four stairs ending at a small landing that housed the backdoor before the stairs veered sharply to the right as they continued into the basement.
By this time, Dean had backed up tightly to his brother and he gently touched Sam's arm with his elbow to get his attention. Sam leaned back from the doorway and nodded briefly to let Dean know that the stairwell was clear. Still backing up, Dean maneuvered around Sam until he was standing in the middle of the doorway. Then he slowly took a step down, still watchfully scanning the hallway as he motioned for Sam to join him.
Dean took another step down before he abandoned his scrutiny of the hallway and spun around quickly to check the basement stairs. As he did so, he put his arm out to stop Sam from stepping onto the landing before he had a chance to check it the remainder of the stairs. But the basement was in complete darkness and Dean had a hard time seeing down into it. Still, he couldn't detect any movement in the shadows and he hesitantly stepped onto the landing before he signaled for Sammy to join him.
Sam proceeded down the last two stairs and came up behind his brother who had turned and was now looking out the window in the backdoor to ascertain what danger - if any - was lurking outside. And while Dean did that, Sam instinctively spun around so that his back was to his brother in order to keep an eye on both the basement stairs and the back hallway.
With nothing outside to worry about, Dean cautiously opened the door, slowly stepping outside with it as he eased it open. When he had opened it far enough for Sam to squeeze out past him, Dean stopped and waited for his brother to quietly slip out the door. But nothing moved behind him so Dean glanced back to see what could possibly be holding his brother up. And as he looked behind him, his heart skipped a beat.
Sammy had disappeared.