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THIRTEEN
Abandoned Warehouse
Chicklow, Connecticut
Saturday, October 7, 2006
7:20 PM
The sun was beginning to sink on the horizon as Taylor sped after the black truck she had finally caught up to. It had taken her nearly twenty minutes to find it on the labyrinth of streets leading out of Willow, past West Hartford, and toward Farmington, but had eventually spotted the intimidating vehicle blazing out of town on the empty Meadow Road heading for Chicklow.
As she trailed behind Amy's father, Taylor shot glances to her friend in the passenger seat, noticing that she looked a combination of bothered and upset. Though Taylor had a feeling both of those had been brought on by the suggestion that the two of them trail behind John Winchester to find out where he was going, something Amy obviously didn't want to do, she couldn't help but sense that there was more to the story other than that, almost as if there was some internal thought that was bothering the girl. While they drove, Taylor attempted to coax it out of her, but Amy wouldn't budge, instead remaining silent and distant on the other side of the car, staring out at the passing trees through the window to her right.
In all honesty, Taylor was beginning to be glad this thing was coming to a close, or so she had a feeling it was. With the ups and downs and overall roadblocks that the case had encountered, she was already tired of having to deal with what was happening. At first, she had thought it interesting, looking into creatures and learning about them, discovering where they lived and how to get rid of them, but applying that knowledge when it came to hunting something down was more difficult than the theory provided. Sitting in her dorm room, reading about how beheading is the only way to kill a vampire or spirits could be put to rest by salting and burning their bones was one thing, but going out and actually utilizing that knowledge was another. Truthfully, this had become more difficult than it was worth, and Taylor wasn't exactly jumping to rush into another situation like this—right thing to do or not.
For some reason, though, Taylor blamed her change in mind on Amy and her lack of enthusiasm from the get-go. From the very start, the girl had been hesitant and wishy-washy, changing her mind about whether or not she wanted to help at every step of the process. Having to deal with her was just about as difficult as having to deal with the creature they were hunting down, which seemed about as frustrating to narrow in on as trying to sort through whatever Amy might be thinking. However, Taylor knew she couldn't entirely blame her friend. Amy had chosen to help under the impression that she was making a decision that would benefit people, despite the fact that doing so would cause her to miss classes and her ever-important rehearsals. She was doing a good thing, and even though she kept switching her stance, she had stuck by it in the end.
Unfortunately, there was something more than just her friend's fluctuating thoughts that bothered Taylor, though she kept them on the backburner. The reason, which she would never admit to anyone, that she was becoming less and less excited about diving into doing this regularly was because of what it was doing to her. After only two days, Taylor had managed to get arrested, steal a car, and cheat a second rental place into giving her a loner by dressing provocatively to compensate for the fake ID she had used—one she normally kept stashed in her dorm room. Though the identification was at least three years old with an obvious pseudonym printed across it, and had been made when she was still under the legal drinking age, Taylor had always been too scared to chance its authenticity. Ultimately, with her back against the wall, she had no choice but to try it. Knowing that rental dealers had to check driving records before loaning out a vehicle, Taylor did all she could to distract the guy behind the counter, causing him to forget a few steps of the same procedure Taylor had gone through at Enterprise. Donning the most form-fitting clothes she owned, and actually taking a shower for the first time in the past two days, Taylor had primped herself before heading over, bending against the counter to flash her cleavage at the attendant whenever he made a move to use the computer.
Rolling her shoulders back and shaking her head in shame, Taylor frowned at herself as she kept her distance behind the black GMC truck, instead tuning into the music Amy had taken a break from staring aimlessly outward in order to put on. Though the station playing on the provided XM service wasn't exactly what Taylor would choose listen to while chasing down supernatural beings and tailing behind an otherwise stranger, the melancholy sounds of Death Cab for Cutie seemed to spread a thoughtful calm over the inside of the car, making it seem almost as though they were having a pensive moment leading up to what was undoubtedly going to become a fight. As Amy gazed out the window while the song switched to "I Will Follow You into the Dark", Taylor could tell the meditative sense that the music was providing was taking an effect on her friend, with her eyes fluttering shut every few minutes before she jerked herself awake.
Smirking as she placed her stare back on the highway, Taylor watched as John drifted off to the side of the road and slowed to follow him, stalling behind a group of trees that dropped off at the point in which he had turned. Noticing that a stretch of gravel lead to an abandoned house sitting a half mile from the street, Taylor inched the car closer to see around the brush, keeping her foot firmly on the brake. Beside her, Amy perked up and leaned against the dash to watch as John exited his truck outside of the building, the home looking as though it had been left to rot nearly fifty years ago. Passing through what had once been a front door and was now a boarded up gap, John disappeared inside, his hand gripping a silver gun that glinted in the fading daylight.
"Should we—" Taylor began, only to snap her mouth shut as John appeared a moment later, hopping back inside his truck and taking off. "Never mind."
Reversing the blue Hyundai into a shaded part of the shoulder, Taylor waited for the truck to rumble past and head in the direction it had previously been pointed. Pausing a few seconds, Taylor switched back into drive and continued her pursuit, wondering if John was going to check inside of every deserted house along the stretch of highway they were on. Though there didn't seem to be many, just landscapes of dried yellow grass, it was possible that the man was going to head in and out of each abandoned building between where they were currently traveling and Burlington. Knowing that it was better to be thorough, especially when dealing with something that dwelled in such places, Taylor shrugged to herself, not bothered by the idea of waiting for Amy's father to rush into a building and come out again. However, as soon as something seemed odd, Taylor was going inside as well, not giving a damn whether or not Amy and her dad had told her that this wasn't her business.
As the truck pulled off the road again, Taylor did the same as before, lying in wait in the bushes not far from where the brick home sitting discarded was positioned. While John headed in and out again, Taylor reversed further than the first time before following the man's lead westward, glancing at Amy as a troubled look came over her face. Narrowing her eyes, Amy honed in on what appeared to be a vacant factory sitting down the road, most likely the place John was headed next. Suddenly, the more her friend kept her eyes on the building, the more a sense of static electricity began to rise in the car, almost as if the overhead power lines were emitting too much energy.
Sitting rigidly, Amy kept her eyes fixed as John's truck barreled in front of them. "That's where we need to go."
John tried to suppress an irritated groan as he glanced in his rearview mirror, spotting that damn blue Hyundai behind him once more. It had been following him for the past hour, keeping a distance that was neither covert enough to be considered coincidental nor close enough to be considered tailgating. Even after he had pulled off the road twice, it was still behind him, but John knew for a fact that it was there for a reason—one he had strictly ordered against outside of the West Hartford police station.
As he drove past towns leading through Connecticut, John equally divided his attention between glancing at the car behind him and watching for deserted buildings that might be home to the criatura. Finding two so far that had been nothing but an abandoned mess of dust and splintered wood, John had been resolute to find the dwelling of the thing he desperately wanted to put down. At this point, between being trailed by Amelia and her friend in that blue excuse for a vehicle and the gnawing feeling in his gut that told him to put this one behind him as soon as possible, John was ready to get this over and done with. As soon as he did, he would be able to get back to what he had been doing before this job had aroused his suspicions: watching after his kids and tracking down the Colt, his one chance at kicking the demon's bucket once and for all.
Heading down the highway leading toward Chicklow and Burlington, or so he recalled from the map tacked to the wall of his motel room, John spotted a steel industrial building that caught his attention and sent his senses into high alert. As he neared the large, rusted factory, quickening his pace to get closer faster, John had a feeling that this would be where he would find what he was looking for. As long as those girls behind him didn't get in the way, he could gank the creature in question and get on with his normal routine of digging up things the demons didn't want him to find. That was, however, if his gut feeling was right—which, more often than not, usually was.
Pulling off and speeding toward the edifice colored a deep orange that covered the original steel, John stopped the car abruptly and reached for the gun he had placed in the passenger's seat. Checking the clip, out of habit more than anything else, he replaced it and hopped out of the cab of his truck, his senses raising from a hurried heartbeat to a pounding pulse. Calming himself as he entered through the cutout that had once been the front door, John held his gun poised as he headed inside, noticing that the interior of the factory was much darker than he had anticipated. Reaching into his coat pocket, John retrieved a small flashlight, holding it pointed in the direction of his weapon.
Walking slowly around the straw flooring, John made a complete sweep of the inside, checking every nook and cranny for evidence before making a trip down the basement stairs. Nine times out of ten, criatura were found underneath the floorboards, usually hiding in cellars and other places where light was unlikely to filter in. As he opened the door to the steps, a loud screech coming with the motion, the sound of a car idling outside caught John's attention, temporarily distracting him. Deciding to ignore it as he descended his way through the building, John was careful not to slip in the darkness, the stairs more slick than he had expected—probably due to the criatura trekking up and down. Though the creature could appear and disappear in puddles of water, it could only make long distance trips in that way, meaning that every other motion had to be done in the way of humans. For some reason, John had the feeling that the thing had climbed after an escaped child, finding small, muddy shoe prints on the steps beside where he walked.
Finally reaching the bottom, John passed his flashlight over the basement, noticing that it contained nothing more than a handful of wooden crates and yet more straw. Keeping quiet, John neared the closest crate, tapping on it with the butt of his flashlight and waiting for noise. Inside, the sound of quiet quivering answered him back. Glancing around the top of the container, John noticed air holes had been poked into the lid, though the rest of it was sealed shut with nails, almost as though someone had been getting ready to ship cargo. Eyeing the room for something to wedge the box open with, John spotted a slat of plywood resting against the wall. Grabbing it and shoving it as roughly as possible underneath a bent nail, John attempted to pry open the lid, only loosening it before something tore his focus away.
From behind, a pair of cold, slimy hands gripped John around the shoulders, yanking him away from what he was doing and tossing him into a wall across the room. Jumping to his feet, John pointed his gun and flashlight around the space, noticing that the creature the strong hands belonged to was gone, or had become nearly invisible in the darkness. Reappearing a moment later, the criatura rushed at John, which he quickly avoided, firing off a shot though he knew it would be of no use. As the creature's watery form exploded at the elbow, seeming to not affect it one way or another, it charged him again, knocking John into the wall once more and keeping him pinned there.
Suddenly, the sound of sneakered footsteps on the stairs took John's stare away from the thing fixing him in a chokehold against the slat of steel. Noticing that Amelia was heading down toward him, jumping the last few steps and landing ungracefully on her heels, he was a mix of relieved and furious. In the small light the stray flashlight provided, John could see that his daughter was narrowing in on the criatura, as though she would be able to rip it away from its current task. Stopping her short, John raised an arm to backhand the creature, sending it spiraling toward the ground. As he hit the straw underfoot after being dropped, John swallowed hard as he beckoned toward the crates, pawing at his sore neck.
"Get those kids out of here!"
Switching his attention back onto the fallen criatura, which had vanished again, John rushed for the flashlight and discarded gun, holding it at the ready for whenever the thing appeared. As he swept over the area containing Amelia and the crates, John narrowed his eyes as he saw her rip off the lids with ease, reaching inside to pull out the first kid and offering the small girl reassuring words before moving onto the next few holding cells. As the initial child remained in place, John watched as his daughter retrieved another kid from the last box at the very end, the other containers seemingly empty. Bending down in front of them, Amy spoke to both girls, leading them hand-in-hand toward the stairs and letting them go as the elementary-aged girls raced for the exit.
However, the small victory of freeing the victims was short-lived. As Amelia was about to cross the room, the criatura appeared again, heading for John, who seemed to be the bigger threat of the two. Letting out a savage roar, the creature rushed for him, though John already had his attack ready. Grabbing the thing's arm just as it was about to clothesline him, John flipped it onto its back, watching as it disappeared in a spray of water.
"Did you just—" Amelia began.
"No," John cut her off, staring at the spot the criatura had vanished, knowing exactly why it had done so. "But it's on the move. Come on. We need to hurry."