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Chapter Seventeen
"How do you know we can trust her?" John asked Bobby for what must have been the twentieth time in so many minutes as he stalked back and forth in the small expanse of the motel room they were staying at. He swung to glare at Bobby, anger and frustration welling inside of him, making it hard to breathe let alone think. "She could be lying."
"Seemed like she was tellin' the truth." Bobby removed his baseball cap, brushed his fingers through his hair, then replaced his cap as he took a seat on the closer of the two beds. "Looked real afraid of those boys playin' pool. An' I'm guessin' they have Sam an' Dean, an' without her help I'm thinkin' we're not gonna find 'em in time."
Frustration quickly turned to seething rage, and on the next pass of the room, John slammed his fist into the drywall, busting out a large hole in it. Flecks of green paint floated silently to the ground to blend into the multicolored shag rug as he abruptly turned back to face Bobby."So, she didn't even give you a hint where my boys are?"
"Think we'd still be sittin' here discussin' it if she had?" Bobby muttered in exasperation. "Said to meet her tomorrow at ten a.m. sharp, not a minute later, an' she'd tell ya everything." He eyed John for a moment, then his gaze strayed to settle on the hole in the wall. Just by the way Bobby couldn't hold eye contact with him and the saddened expression on his face, John knew his longtime friend was deliberately keeping something from him, and understood that whatever it was, it must have been pretty bad.
"Alright, out with it." John crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes on Bobby. "I've known you for too long not to know when you're tryin' your damnedest to keep somethin' from me."
Bobby was silent for a moment as he scrubbed his hand through his scruffy beard, and then heaved a weary sigh. "She said Sam didn't think you'd come. He didn't think you cared, an' he's in real bad shape. An' I gathered from the way she said it . . . well, from the tone in her voice, I think he might be dyin'." He glanced up at John, and then hastily lowered his head once more, unshed tears brimming in his eyes. "Coulda misunderstood her though," he quickly added for John's benefit.
John's breath caught in his throat, his gut clenching painfully at the thought that Sam might die, and he hadn't even bothered to answer his youngest son's desperate phone calls. Rubbing the moisture from his eyes, John's gaze strayed to his duffle full of weapons, and then to the salt trails that lined both the front door and window, and his heart sank a little further.
He'd done everything in his power to teach his boys how to protect themselves from supernatural threats, but he's failed miserably on teaching them that ordinary people could pose an even more dangerous threat. And he should have known better. Should have realized that the evil in the hearts of men had been the direct cause of most vengeful spirits. Happy, joyous people didn't turn into vengeful spirits . . . no, they moved on to hopefully a better place. No, it was the sick and twisted that stayed bound to earth, reeking havoc on the unsuspecting. Murderers and psychopaths and every social deviant in between, walked the earth in either human form or ghostly presence, and John had dwelt far too long on the later, and was now being rewarded for his vigilance. Sadly he realized that if his boys died, the blame would be solely on his shoulders. And the burden, weighing down on him like the weight of the world, was more than he could bear.
"Sam's gonna be okay. Gon-na get my boys back, and they're both gonna be fine," John stated with a firm, determined set of his jaw. Although the slight hitch in his voice belied his fears, and spoke volumes to anyone who really knew him, and unfortunately for him, Bobby knew him pretty damn well.
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
John stood in front of the mirror, fumbling with his tie, his fingers trembling so badly, he couldn't manage to make a proper knot. His stomach curdled at the idea of wearing the dark blue suit that he'd worn at Mary's funeral for his meeting with Billy, but it was the only one he owned. For a man who definitely believed in dire omens, the thought of wearing this particular suit screamed of terrible things to come, and his throat constricted painfully as tears filled his eyes.
"It's quarter of ten, John," Bobby's gruff voice broke John out of his thought, and reminded him that he had to remain strong for his boys. "You better get goin'. An' when you get back, we'll gather the others, an' start goin' over a plan."
John gave a curt nod, finished tying his tie to the best of his ability, and then headed for the door. At the entrance, he swung back to stare at Bobby, hoping to see some assurance in his friend's eyes, but saw the same look of despair that he knew mirrored his own. "They're gonna be okay," he said with a small, weak smile.
"Yer damn right, they are," Bobby said, and feigned a smile, although it quick faded to a thoughtful frown. "They're Winchesters. An' there ain't nobody who can keep a Winchester down."
"Thanks, Bobby." John walked out the door and headed for his truck, all-the-while praying that his friend was right.
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Inside the entrance of the bank, John stood for a moment, surveying the place for possible threats and possible means of escape should a problem arise. There were several people milling around, some filling out bank drafts, others speaking to tellers, or waiting to speak with bank officials, and those who were just there waiting for their friends or family to finish their business transactions. His gut feeling clearly told him that none of these people posed any sort of real threat to him, so he strode confidently to the half-moon shaped desk in the middle of the lobby, and cleared his throat to gather the receptionist's attention.
The pretty, petite middle-aged woman glanced up at him and smiled. "How can I help you, sir?" she asked, her dark brown-eyed gaze travel over the length of him appreciatively.
"I'd like to speak to Billy Carter about a loan she turned down," John replied in very businesslike manner.
"Just one second, sir, I'll check to see if she's busy at the moment." The receptionist picked up the phone, and dialed Billy's extension, and waited a few moments before Billy answered. "Hi, Billy, there's a man here who would like to speak to you about a loan you turned down . . .yes . . . Uh huh, sure, I'll send him right in." She hung up the phone, and then returned her attention to John. She gestured to a door off to the right, and smiled. "Billy said she wasn't busy at the moment, and that you could go right in."
"Thanks."
Without waiting for any further invitation than that, John strode over to Billy's office, gave a quick rap on the door, and not bothering to wait for a response he entered. The young woman, who couldn't have been more than twenty three or four, stood to greet him. The first thing he noticed was that although she appeared outwardly confident, dressed in a classy business suit, soft black hair framing her delicate face in a stylish manner, she was trembling. She extended her right hand, and his vision strayed to the bandage that covered the left one, and then returned his attention to her. When he failed to shake her hand, she let it drop back to her side, and took her seat once more, motioning for him to sit down.
"Where are my boys," he said in a hard, no nonsense manner, not about to mince words with her. His eyes narrowed on her, a deep scowl furrowing his brow, and saw her shift uncomfortably in her seat.
"Mr.," she began only to hesitated, waiting for him to fill in the blank.
"John."
"John," she said, with a small, awkward smile. "Sam really needs you. He's in bad shape, an' I'm not sure how much longer . . . well, what I'm tryin' to say is that I'm doing my best to keep him from . . . I'm sorry," she muttered, lowering her head.
John swallowed hard, hearing the sincere desperation in her voice. She was trying to help his boys, and John was ashamed that he was treating her like the enemy. "An' Dean."
"Not real sure. The Father keeps them at separate compounds, an' I've been with Sam. He really needs you," she stated again, making it very clear to John how dire the situation truly was.
"H-how bad is he?"
"Did my best to stitch up the wounds in his back, but I'm not a doctor, and he really needs a doctor." Tears gathered in her sparkling blue eyes, and then fell unabashedly down her cheeks. She wiped them aside, and tried her best to smile bravely at John. "Don't want him to die . . . but I can't save him by myself."
"Where are they?" John asked again, more insistently.
"You know where Conkle's Hollow is?"
"Heard of it."
"It's off of Big Pine Road," she quickly supplied. "Well, about twenty miles east of there, you come a dirt road, no name marker on it." She paused, taking a deep breath as she took several pieces of paper out of her desk. "The road is overgrown with weeds, so it's kinda hard to spot, even during the day. You follow that road down about ten miles before you come to the first of the Father's two compounds."
"Why does he have two of them?" John asked as he watched her sketch a diagram of the first compound, detailing living quarters, bunkers, lookout posts, where weapons were kept, and finally where he would find Sam.
"One's smaller," she swallowed hard, a small cry escaping her lips, "for th-those who are not to be made members of the family."
"For those he plans on killing." John gave a curt nod in understanding. "And Sam's there."
"Yeah. He's there." Billy drew a fence line around the property, and at several points she marked them with X's. "Guards are stationed in these areas, and change shifts every four to five hours during the day and night." She then drew a circle around one area that didn't seem to be very well protected. "This spot backs up to a wooded area, and there's kind of a deep ravine running the length of it. It's hard to get to, but not impossible."
"And this Father guy doesn't think it poses a threat to leave it unguarded?"
Billy arched a delicate brow as she stared at the map of the compound. "Well, he does have two men make a general sweep of the area every six hours or so, but no, he doesn't think it poses much of a threat."
"How many men are in the compound at any given time?" John asked as he studied the map, taking mental notes, a plan already formulating in his mind. All he needed to do was break in and get to the weapons shed undetected, and he was certain he could get to Sam.
"No more than ten to fifteen."
"An' when they change guard, do the men stay there or go to the other compound?"
"Most go back to the main compound, that's where their sleeping quarters are located."
"So every four to five hours, the main gate," he gestured to the area on the map that indicated the front entrance, "is open for some length of time?"
Billy nodded, and then pointed to the lookout posts that flanked either side of it. "There is one man stationed in each of these towers for eight hour spans throughout the day. When anyone leaves the compound, one of their jobs is to make sure no captive is trying to escape by means of hiding in the vehicles."
"So then at some point during the day the towers are left empty. How about where the weapons are stored, an' what kind of weapons do they have?"
Billy bit pensively at her lower lip, her eyes narrowing as she tried to recall all the details. "There's just the regular guard." She tapped the tip of her pencil on a spot near the weapons shed and marked it. "Right here, there's a landmine. Father said that if anyone ever breeched the inner walls, they'd never make it to the weapons. You'll be able to recognize where it is by a patch of purple wild flowers growing around it."
John gave a nod, mentally making note of that. "An' the weapons?"
"Pretty much anything you could imagine. Father said we are at war with the world, and we needed to be prepared for anything. Guns, grenades, high-powered rifles, explosives, you name it, and it's there."
"Okay." he glanced over the map once more, and then looked up at Billy. "How about the other compound?"
"From where the first one is located, the road winds around and then veers off to the right. You follow it for about ten to fifteen miles and you come to the second compound." Again, Billy began to sketch the larger of the two compounds, making notes of living quarters, bathing areas, several outbuildings, two separate weapons sheds, several lookout towers, a building where they ate, and finally the underground bunkers where he would find Dean. Billy again drew X's where guards would be stationed, and John's stomach clenched realizing how difficult it would be to get to his older son.
"How many people live in this compound," he asked, trying to sound confident, but heard the tremble in his own voice, and knew Billy must have heard it as well.
"There's about thirty to forty men, and about another forty to fifty women."
"Any areas of the wall left unguarded?" he asked, but already knew the answer as he peered down the map littered with X's.
"No," Billy said with a single shake of her head. "However," she made a wide sweep of the expanse of the wall with her index finger, "this entire area is surrounded by a forest, and in several areas, the walls have been weakened by overgrown roots. In this spot," she jabbed her finger to a location on the far side of the barricade, "the wall has begun to crumble, and hasn't been repaired yet. If you can manage to draw the guards out of the compound there, you may be able to enter from that spot." She quickly marked the area as a reminder. "From there it's about twenty feet to the first weapon's shed."
"Same kind of weapons inside?"
"Yeah. If you can go in at night, there's a building here." She hastily marked the spot. "Inside you'll find different types of drugs that can be used to subdue the people who are asleep before they have a chance to realize what's going on."
"Same number of guards at night as during the day?"
"Maybe two or three more. A guard every thirty feet or so."
John studied the compound carefully, his mind wandering over all the details Billy had added as she sketched. To get to the people inside, he needed to cut them off from power. Darkness would be his advantage against his enemy. "Is there a generator anywhere in the compound?"
"Yeah, we have a backup incase the power goes out."
"Is there anyway you could disable it?"
"I can try," Billy pointed to a spot near where Dean was being held captive, and drew a circle around it. "They keep it here." She pointed to two other locations. "The main power lines come in here and here. If the power is cut to them, it usually takes a good ten minutes for the generator to kick in after that. And it only lights the main living quarters and two of the outbuildings. The flood lights are left totally without power."
"So if the main power supply went out, there would be a ten minute leeway to get in and get to the weapons, undetected," John remarked as a plan started to take shape in his mind. He was about to ask her another question when her phone rang.
"I have to take this," she said, casting an apologetic look in John's direction. "It'll just take a sec." Billy picked up the phone, and smiled. "Hello, First National Bank of America, Billy Carter, speaking." Billy was silent for a moment, and then she blanched considerably, her hand trembling as it tightened around the phone. "My Father's here?" She was quiet again as she looked to John, her eyes rounding in fear. "Can you tell him that I am just finishing up with a client and will be right out . . . okay, thanks." She hung up, and then quickly rolled up the maps and handed them to John. "You have to leave . . . you have to leave now."
"Alright." John hesitated, sensing how truly terrified she was, and his heart went out to her. She was risking everything to save his boys, and he hadn't even realized how much danger he was placing her in until this moment. "You gonna be okay? I mean, I'll stay if you think . . . if you think he might try and hurt you."
"I'll be okay." She feigned a fake smile for his benefit, although it didn't quite reach the depths of her eyes, and he knew she was lying.
"You're sure?"
"Yeah."
They both stood and headed for the door. Billy opened it and was greeted by the sight of her Father with his hand poised on the door ready to knock.
"Morning Dawn." The Father smiled, and then kissed her lightly on the cheek. Dressed in an expensive dark blue business suit, he turned down his nose on John, a grimace of distaste settling on his features. "Morning," he quickly said as he turned back to Billy.
"Nice suit." John smirked as he touched the rich fabric of the Father's sleeve. "You know they bury men in these kinds of suits."
"Excuse me?" The Father quirked a brow in confusion.
"I'm a funeral director of sorts." John gave the man who had hurt his boys and was holding them captive a tight-lipped smile. "It's my job to help people find their final resting place . . . you know, burn 'em if necessary. It's hard work, but sometimes it has it's rewards."
"How nice for you." The Father looked John squarely in the eyes, his own narrowing slightly as if confused by something, and then asked, "Have we met before? You look vaguely familiar to me."
John raised a brow as his lips curled downward, and then he shook his head. "Not unless you've spent a lot of time in graveyards . . . don't see you as much of the graveyard type though, Mr. Carter."
"Dominic," the Father quickly supplied, "and no, I don't usually frequent cemeteries." He chuckled, the deep rich sound of it filling John with intense undeniable rage, and it took every bit of willpower John had not to rip the man's throat out with his bare hands.
"Huh, woulda thought a man your age would be thinkin' a lot about his own death."
"No, can't say that I worry that much about dying."
"So you've never wondered if it will it be quick and painless or slow and excruciatingly painful." John's hand clenched tightly around the maps he was holding, crumpling them, but other than that he remained outwardly calm, although seething rage was bubbling right below the surface.
"No, my children keep me young, Mr . . . ." Dominic's voice trailed off as he waited for John to supply his name.
"John."
Dominic gave a curt nod. "Do you have children, John?"
John hands trembled as he fought back the urge to slam them into the man's simpering face. "No, lost them when they were young."
"That's too bad," Dominic said as he lovingly caressed Billy's face, and she tried her best to give him her sweetest smile, although John could tell she was trembling. "A parent should never have to bury their own child."
"True," John gave Dawn a reassuring smile, and then returned his attention to Dominic, "you'll never know what you're truly capable of doing until you lose your children." The muscle in his right cheek jerked erratically as he gritted his teeth, anger almost overriding all reasonable thought. "Bet if someone hurt Billy, you'd probably hunt them down, cut them wide open and watch them bleed to death."
"Huh," Dominic smiled as he glanced in Billy's direction, and then he narrowed his eyes on John, all traces of humor gone. "I would probably do worse."
"I have no doubt you would." John glanced at his watch, knowing that if he stood there another moment longer, nothing would hold him back from killing the man right there on the spot. "I'm afraid I have another appointment. Meeting with some of my associates to plan our newest undertaking. Never like to go into anything unprepared for the worst."
"Very smart of you, John." Dominic crossed his arms, a smirking grin easing it way across his hawkish features. "Never wise to underestimate the possibility of the best laid plans going awry. The results could be quite disastrous."
"Never been one to leave things to chance, Dominic," John very nearly snarled, his eyes taking on a hardened glint. "Like to think I have all my bases covered before I go into any undertaking.
Turning away from Dominic, John focused all his attention on Billy. "Thank you for your time, Miss Carter." John extended his arm to Billy, and took her hand in his, squeezing it gently but reassuringly. "I really appreciate all your help on gettin' me the loan for my business venture. Means more to me than you'll ever know, an' I can't even begin to think of how to repay you for all you've done."
Billy reluctantly let go of John's hand as Dominic slid his arm around her waist in an overtly protective manner. "That's my job, John." She gave him her best smile, her clear blue eyes filling with hope that John would be able to save Sam, and John understood that she was also praying that he would save her as well, and he was determined not to fail her. "I just hope things will all go accordingly, and all existing matters will soon be dealt with."
"Not thinkin' that's gonna be a problem." He turned on his heel, ready to leave, and then swung back abruptly, an icy glare filling his dark eyes as his unbridled anger took hold. "Maybe I'll be seein' you again sometime soon, Dominic, an' we can discuss our children at length."
Dominic moved a step closer to Billy, partially standing in front of her as if trying to protect her from John. "I'd have to say that would be my pleasure, John."
"No, the pleasure will be all mine." Without waiting for Dominic to respond, John swung back around, and strode toward the front doors of the bank.