"Get off my property!" Larry shouted.
Matt stood with his back pressed to the house staring at his feet. "I'm sorry. I told him the truth," he mumbled.
Dean sighed heavily. "I thought we had a plan, Matt. What happened to the plan?"
Sam jumped in, "We don't have time for this! Mr. Pike, you have to get your family out now. By sunrise, everyone on this land will be dead!"
Larry backed up a step, stretching an arm protectively across his son. "You're crazy! Stay away from my family. I'm calling the poli..." Larry trailed off as a buzzing hum, unmistakable but far too loud, rose in the distance.
Matt's eyes lifted over the heads of the arguing men, wide with fear. "oh no," he whispered.
Larry's voice shook, "What is that?"
An impossibly large black cloud was rising up from the trees, millions of insects lifting into the air.
Dean caught Larry's horrified gaze and stared him down. "You see, Larry, this isn't your property anymore." He jabbed a finger at the rapidly approaching swarm. "It's theirs."
Matt grabbed his father's shoulder, "We should get inside!"
"No!" Sam shouted, "We'll never last the night. We all have to go! We have to get off the Atoka land entirely!"
Larry pushed Matt at Sam as the first wave of bugs flooded the yard, pulling a ZapZapZap from the porch bug light. "Matt, get in the car."
"But Mom—"
"I'll get your mother!"
"Come on, Matt," Sam pulled the boy to the Impala and practically threw him into the back seat.
"JOANIE, we have to GO!" echoed from inside the house and soon (not soon enough for Dean, already swatting at bugs and cursing up a storm) Larry was rushing his confused wife out the door, down the steps, and into the car. Dean and Sam jumped into the front, everyone slamming doors.
It was too little, too late to keep the bugs out of the car. The inside was already a mess of crawling clinging insects, and the backseat was a slew of screams, swearing, and the crunch of squashed bugs.
Ignoring the chaos, Dean floored it and pulled away from the curb with a screech of tires.
"What is happening?!" wailed Joanie, frantically brushing bugs off her clothes, her skin, oh god they were in her hair.
"Squash 'em, Mom, squash 'em!"
"Aw, Christ, they're everywhere!"
"Sam, which way?!" demanded Dean, careening down the street and seeing the air under the street lights thicken with the swarm like a bizarre black snowstorm.
Sam fumbled the road map open and hurriedly located the neighborhood. "uuh LEFT! Then the first right and third left and follow the curvy road—"
Dean cut a corner across a pristine front lawn, tearing up the turf. "And then we'll be at the highway?"
"No, there's uh three more turns after that."
"What the hell?!"
"It's suburbia, man! What do you want me to do?"
Dean cursed as more and more bugs landed on the windshield, gradually blotting out his view.
"What is going on?!" yelled Larry from the back. "Bugs don't act like this!"
Sam leaned over the seats, giving an annoyed swipe at the bugs crawling up his neck, to explain fast. "There's a curse on this land to keep white settlers off of it and it triggers each May. If we get you far enough away, the curse should leave you alone."
"They're covering the windows," gasped Joanie.
"The swarm has completely caught up with us," confirmed Sam.
"Already? How fast can these bugs fly, anyway?" asked Dean.
"Dragonflies can fly up to 35 miles an hour, moth hawks can do 33—" rattled off Matt.
"And that's when they're not cursed," added Sam.
Dean was struggling to see anything through the shifting mass of bugs covering the windshield.
"Use the wipers," Sam suggested.
"That'll just smear them!"
The whole car jounced into the air, throwing the passengers around, as Dean slammed over speed bumps. "Dammit, I can't get up any speed here," he muttered furiously. "Stupid suburbs with their stupid curb appeal."
"Ow!" said Joanie, "One of them bit me. Oow! Hey, they're starting to bite!"
"Mom? Mom, let me see— Ah! Ow! Guys, they're biting."
"Hey, are you guys getting us out of here or what?! There's too many to squash them all!"
"Dean," Sam ground out, "think we can pick up the pace?"
Dean threw the car around another corner and suddenly smirked, "Now that's more like it. Hang on, everyone!" He gunned the engine and drove straight ahead.
"Dean? What are you doing?"
"No more speed bumps," Dean said as the Impala popped the curb and sailed into the golf course.
"Don't land us in a sandtrap," warned Sam.
Dean laughed and barely avoided a duck pond, "Who's driving, huh? Hey, where do I go after this?"
Larry leaned over the seat, his face covered in new red welts, "You're going to come out on Crescent Road. Take a right and the highway is right there!"
"Hell yeah!" Dean cheered as the speed of their passage started to clear the windshield.
The Impala cut deep tire tracks across the greens, flattened flags, and generally made a mess of the course, before bursting through a row of box hedges and finding the road again.
A cheer went up inside the car and Dean flattened the gas pedal to the floor, zooming through an empty red light and up onto the highway.
Layer after layer of bugs peeled off the speeding car, blown away until none were left. Inside, bugs dropped dead to the floor, first just a few, then all at once. The family in the back slumped in relief. Dean brushed dead bugs off his shoulders and Sam shook them out of his hair.
Larry hugged Joanie close, then looked at his son. "Look, Matt...I'm sorry I didn't believe you...almost got us all killed."
"Dad, it's ok," Matt said.
Larry opened an arm wide to Matt and he joined his parents in a tight hug.
Dean and Sam shared tired grins.
"You gonna let up on that gas pedal anytime soon?" Sam asked with a smirk.
Dean snorted, "Not likely."
The Impala's lights disappeared rapidly down the highway.