Author's Note: Coming up on the end now but still a bit more to go. Thanks so much to Hasmik Aharonyan, new21writer, mic19671967, Colby's girl, PsychoPicasso, Supernaturalfreak, Eliza Ghost, GoForTehGig, and snseriesfan for their awesome reviews. Your support has been wonderful.
Chapter Eleven: The Final Confrontation
Dean followed the directions that Liz had given to him all the way to the outskirts of the town. Once there, it was impossible to miss the abandoned factory that he'd been told about, even in the dark. He checked the time. It was just past eight o'clock. He still had over twenty-four hours to stop the Harvester and there was a good chance that the fugly bastard was hiding out here. It was the last place that met all of the requirements. Dean got out of the Impala and grabbed his machete. This was going to end now.
The hunter let himself into the old factory. It smelled horrible and offered no light. Dean needed to keep his weapon at the ready, so he held the flashlight in his injured left hand. It hurt to grasp the object, but he needed the light and the machete so he figured he'd just have to suck it up.
There was a lot of equipment and large machinery that had been left behind when the place had closed down. There were no signs with a company name and Dean didn't recognize anything in the factory so he had no clue what it was that used to be made here. But that didn't really matter.
The large main area was devoid of life, so Dean decided to check the offices. There was one right off of the room that he was in. Dean opened the door and glanced around. An empty desk, a file cabinet, a pot that once held a plant, and a girly calendar. Nothing that indicated an evil creature had ever been there. A glance across the room at the calendar made him wish that his brother were here so that he could make some sort of perverted comment to annoy and disgust the younger man.
Dean left the office and checked the four different storage rooms only to find that they hadn't been occupied for a long time. He then walked up the rickety metal stair case to the catwalk above. The metal walkway led to several more offices. The hunter stepped carefully, mindful of what happened the last time he walked across a dilapidated floor. He was still limping slightly because of it. Dean tried not to think about how he was going to manage to fight the Harvester and win with all the injuries he'd acquired during this job.
Dean checked the offices one at a time. It took forever but he finally managed to clear the entire level. Which only left the basement. He opened the basement door and slowly descended into the completely dark area. The beam from his flashlight swept from side to side as he attempted to look around. He was in a huge open room filled with boxes, crates, and old rusty file cabinets. Dean saw no demonic symbols painted in blood, candles, or any other signs that a ritual was about to take place. He'd struck out yet again and this had been his last lead.
"Damn it!" Dean kicked one of the file cabinets in anger. It collapsed in on itself with a loud crash. He stomped back up the stairs and slammed out the front door. He was almost back to the Impala when he heard his phone ring.
"What?" He growled into the speaker.
"Well, I take it ya haven't found the Harvester of Souls yet."
"Bobby, I'm not in the mood. I just wasted the whole day and don't know where to go next."
"Well then, you ain't gonna like what I got to tell ya. You got just a couple hours left if ya wanna gank the thing in time to save yer brother."
"What the hell are you talking about, Bobby? Tomorrow's Halloween. Not today."
"Yeah, but tomorrow starts in just two hours. All the coma victims in the past always checked out early Halloween mornin', long before the sun came up. The ritual probably takes place just after midnight."
Dean felt like he'd just been punched in the gut. He struggled to breathe through the panic that threatened to surface. But after a moment, he won the battle over his emotions, just as he'd done for most of his life. He needed to be clear headed and panicking wouldn't help.
"I need more information, Bobby. Checking out large empty spaces isn't working. Have you found out anything else about the ritual?"
"Not really. All the Harvester needs is candles and blood. Lots of blood."
"Well then, it'll need to get the blood from somewhere. It doesn't look like the bastard collected it from its former victims, so maybe it'll be out trying to find more targets. Does it say if the blood needs to be fresh?"
"That's the weird part. Most rituals require fresh blood but this specifically calls for chilled blood."
"Chilled? What, is the Harvester gonna have a cocktail party or something?"
"I'm just tellin' ya what I read."
"Chilled… well, that means he'll have needed to collect it already. But I don't recall hearing about any other deaths…" Dean tried to piece together the clues. "And he'd need electricity so that he could run a fridge or something… Wait! I got it! Thanks Bobby." Dean hung up the phone and climbed into the Impala.
He started the car up and took off at break neck speeds, praying that he wouldn't get pulled over. He ran every light he could and completely ignored stop signs. At one point Dean swerved around a car that was going a mere fifteen miles above the speed limit and almost collided head on with a minivan. Only his quick reflexes allowed him to jump the curb and drive over a well manicured lawn. But he reached his destination in record time.
Dean got out of the driver's seat and shut the car door. Then he went to the trunk and pulled out a duffel bag. He emptied it out and then placed his machete inside. Tossing the bag over his shoulder, Dean closed the trunk and headed towards the entrance of the hospital.
The hospital obviously wasn't an abandoned space, but the basement would probably provide the Harvester with enough room for his ritual and there would be a large supply of chilled blood kept on hand. And it couldn't get much closer to the first four coma victims.
Dean walked into the main entrance and was heading to the elevators when a woman's voice called out to him.
"Excuse me sir, but visiting hours are over. You can come back tomorrow."
Dean turned to face an elderly woman that was sitting at the courtesy desk. He didn't want to risk flashing his badge in case she decided to get security involved. He'd have to think quick.
"I know it's late ma'am, but my wife is about to give birth and I don't want to miss it. I had to go back home and get her some of her things to make her more comfortable." He held up his bag. Dean hoped that the birthing area wasn't currently empty of patients. He also prayed that she wouldn't see the dried blood on his torn jeans.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Most people use the side door to enter into the maternity ward since it's much closer."
"I got a little turned around." Dean explained.
"Your first child, I take it? Don't worry, first timers are always nervous." She informed him with a smile. "Just go down that hall past the elevators and take a right. You'll see the signs from there."
"Thank you." Dean replied and then followed her instructions. He'd have to find another way down since there was no way she'd overlook him getting into the elevators now. He hadn't gone far when he saw a stairwell. After making sure there was no one around to notice, Dean slipped through the door.
There were steps leading both upstairs and down. The ones that Dean took had a sign announcing 'Basement Access, Authorized Hospital Personnel Only'. At the bottom was another door. Dean opened it as quietly as he could and entered a long bare hallway. The fist door he came to was marked 'storage room one'. A quick peek inside revealed a room filled with large cardboard boxes. Dean continued on. The next door was for storage room two. This room contained shelves stocked with medial supplies of all types. The third storage room was for linens. When the hunter came to the fourth door, he saw a hand written sign proclaiming 'Do Not Enter. Leaking Pipes Under Repair. Supplies Have Been Moved To Storage Room Six'. Dean was willing to bet money that this was the right place.
He pressed his ear up against the door and listened. After a moment he heard footsteps. A moment later came a familiar low gravelly voice chanting something in what sounded like a variation of Latin. Dean checked the time. Midnight was approaching but he still had time. This was probably some sort of pre-ritual crap. And there was no way that Dean was going to let the Harvest get to the actual ritual. By the echoing sound of the footsteps, the hunter figured that the room was a decent size and had been emptied of any supplies or shelves that had once occupied the space. Although every nerve in his body was screaming at him to throw the door open and rush in, Dean knew that he would have to play it smart if he wanted to survive the confrontation. His last fight with the Harvester had not turned out well and he was at a further disadvantage this time.
Dean pulled the machete from his bag and waited until he heard the footsteps right near the door. Then he turned the handle and flung himself through the door and right into the cloaked figure. Both went down in a tangle of limbs, but Dean made sure that he landed on top. Sharp pain radiated out from his previous wounds, but the hunter ignored them. Holding the machete in his left hand, he brought his right fist down to pound the creature's hideous face over and over. Dean knew he'd need to stun the monster if he wanted a chance to decapitate it. The Harvester's leathery burnt-orange skin split under its slit of an eye, and smelly orange goo ran from the wound. As he brought his fist down again, the creature opened its huge mouth and took a snap at Dean. He jerked his hand back but two of the teeth managed to scrape against the back of his hand.
"Ah! Crap! Dude, you better not have rabies, you fugly bastard."
The Harvester merely growled at him, obviously displeased that it had failed to bite the hunter's hand off. Dean switched the machete into his right hand and brought it down into the Harver's neck.
It went in deep, but not all the way through. The creature hissed at him, spitting the thick orange goo that was its blood. Dean leaned forward to push his weapon downwards but froze as he felt the creature's claws poke into his stomach, just barely breaking the skin. If he leaned forward further to complete the job, he'd end up gutted for sure. But if he backed off now, he might not get another chance to finish this once and for all. With no time left, Dean made his decision.
Author's Note Part Two: Cliffhanger! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Please take a moment and leave a review to let me know what you think. Thanks so much.