1.15
Hibbing, Minnesota. Smallish. Kind of cute. Lots of missing people. And the bar is packed. Which is actually a good thing because no one has noticed me in here.
I'm having a coke, Sam's having a beer, Dean is getting something else to drink. Sam's looking through the local newspaper. Of course. And I'm flipping through Dad's journal. I accidentally kick Sam under the table. Again.
"Can you stop that, Jane?" says Sam.
"Sorry," I say.
"What are you doing?"
"The floor here is disgusting, I don't want my new shoes to be covered in god knows what."
Sam huffs. "I'm not your footstool."
I shrug. "Could be….huh," I say, noticing the same town name in the journal as where we're at.
"What?"
"Hibbing, Minnesota."
"I know where we are."
"No," I say, pointing to the journal. "Dad has stuff in here about it."
"Really?" Sam asks. "What does it say?"
"Missing people. Phantom attacker folklore… people saying a dark figure comes out at night, takes people, vanishes into thin air."
"Huh…" Sam takes the journal from me.
"Hey!"
"I'm reading."
"I can read to, you know."
Sam reads the page and then slides it back to me.
"Thank you," I say, annoyed. Dean comes back with beer and starts playing darts next to our table.
Sam goes back to the newspaper.
"So, local police have now ruled out foul play," says Sam. "Apparently, there are worse signs of a struggle."
"Well, they could be right, it could just be a kidnapping," says Dean. "Maybe this isn't our kind of gig."
"Yeah, maybe not. Except for this—Dad marked the area, Dean."
Dean comes over and I show Dean Dad's journal.
"Possible hunting grounds of a phantom attacker."
"Why would he even do that?"
"He found a lot of local folklore about a dark figure that comes out at night, takes people, and disappears," I say.
"He found this too," says Sam. "This county has more missing persons per capita than anywhere else in the state."
"That is weird," says Dean.
"Yeah."
"Don't phantom attackers usually snatch people from their beds? Jenkins was taken from a parking lot."
"Well, there are all kinds. You know, Springhill Jacks, phantom gassers," says Sam.
"Taking people outside is probably easier too," I say.
"They take people anywhere, anytime. Look, Dean, I don't know if this is our kind of gig either."
"Yeah, you're right, we should ask around more tomorrow," says Dean.
"Right," says Sam and he takes out his wallet. "I saw a motel about five miles back."
"Whoa, whoa, easy. Let's have another round."
"We should get an early start."
"Yeah, you really know how to have fun, don't you, Grandma? Alright, I'll meet you outside, I gotta take a leak." Dean grabs his jacket from behind me.
"Hey!" I say as he launches me forward.
Dean grins and heads to the bathroom. Sam picks up the stuff and I give him Dad's journal. Sam and I go outside to the car.
"You hear that?" he asks as we reach the car.
"Hear what?"
Sam frowns. He puts the journal on the trunk and pulls out a flashlight from his coat and bends down under the car. I hear a hiss.
"Whoa!" Sam says and laughs a little.
I laugh too. "A cat?"
"Yeah."
I laugh at him. "Didn't know you scared so easy, Sammy."
"Ha ha," he says flatly. His face changes, shock, anger. But I don't have time to see why because everything goes black.
Dean comes out the bar and walks to the car. Neither Sam or Jane are there. But Dad's journal is on the hood. He opens the door. They're not there either. What the hell? Dean checks the entire carpark. Twice. People come out of the bar and goes up to a couple.
"Hey, you guys been outside, around here in the last hour or so?" They shake their heads and keep walking. "Sam! Jane!" He looks around, but what can he do? "Sammy! Janie!" Dean notices a surveillance camera and walks into the middle of the road. Nothing. "Sam. Jane."
Dean goes to the Sheriff's Department as soon as he can in the morning. He finds a deputy, Kathleen, who asks for his ID.
"So, what can we do for you, Officer Washington?" she asks.
"I'm working missing persons."
"I didn't know the Jenkins case was being covered by the state police."
"Oh, no. No, there's someone else. Someone else's. Actually, it's my cousins. We were having a few last night at this bar down by the highway. And I haven't seen either of them since."
"Do your cousins have a drinking problem?"
"Well Jane is twelve. So no. But Sam? Two beers and he's doin' karaoke. No, he wasn't drunk. He was taken. They both were."
"You take your 12-year-old cousin to a bar often?"
Dean smiles. "There's uh…not much option for her around here. We were just on babysitting duty anyway. I sear, nothing bad."
Kathleen nods. "All right. What're their names?"
"Winchester. Sam and Jane Winchester."
"Like the rifle?"
"Like the rifle."
Kathleen types and brings up Sam's police record. She reads the page, she clicks Dean's name and brings up his record.
"Samuel Winchester…Jane Winchester…So, you know that their brother, Dean Winchester, died in St. Louis. And, uh, was suspected of murder."
"Yeah, Dean. Kind of the black sheep of the family. Handsome, though."
"Uh-huh." She types more and more search results comes up. "Well, he's not showing up in any current field reports. And let's check Jane." She types again. "No undeclared minors anywhere either."
"Oh, I already have a lead. I saw a surveillance camera by the highway."
"Uh-huh. The county traffic cam?"
"Right. Yeah. I'm thinking the camera picked up whatever took them. Or, whoever."
"Well, I have access to the traffic cam footage down at the county works department, but—well, anyhow, let's do this the right way." Katheleen gets up and gets some paperwork. "Why don't you fill out a missing persons report and sit tight over here?" Kathleen hands Dean a clipboard.
"Office, look, uh, Sam and Jane, they're family. I kind of, I kind of look out for the kids. You gotta let me go with you."
"I'm sorry I can't do that."
"Well, tell me something. Your county has its fair share of missing persons. Any of 'em come back?" Kathleen says nothing. "Sam and Jane are my responsibility. And they're coming back. I'm bringing them back."
I wake up to something up my nose. I jerk. I reach for my nose. It's hay. I pull it away and sit up.
"Janie?"
"Sam?" I look around. I'm in a cage. A cage? "What the hell?"
"Yeah I know."
I find Sam. Our cages are attached to one another. He's sitting, looking at me.
"Are you okay?" Sam asks.
My head throbs. "Fine," I say. "Kind of. My head is killing me. What took us?"
"No idea, all I saw grab you was a hand before I was out cold."
"Great…"
"Yeah."
Sam grabs hold on the bars above him and tries to kick on the door of his cage. I hear a groan.
"What was that?" I ask.
"You're alive," Sam says, looking across from his cage. I follow his gaze. Another cage. A man inside. "Hey, you okay?"
"Does it look like I'm doing okay?" asks the man.
"Where are we?"
"I don't know. The country, I think. Smells like the country."
"You're Alvin Jenkins, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"I was looking for you."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Well, no offense, but this is a piss-poor rescue."
"It's not our fault," I say.
"Holy shit," says Alvin.
"What?" Sam and I ask.
"She's a kid. They took a kid?"
"I guess so," I say.
"Our brother's out there right now, too. He's looking for us. So—"
"So, he's not gonna find us. We're in the middle of nowhere," says Alvin. "Waiting for them to come back and do God-knows-what to us."
"What are they? Have you seen them?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Whatever's got us, what'd they look like?"
"See for yourself."
The door opens and two things come in. Wait, no. Two guys. Just two guys with hats. One goes to Alvin's cage and kicks it. Another goes to the middle of the room and puts a key in, turns it. One of them throws a plate of food into the cage. The guy turns the key again and they leave.
"I'll be damned," says Sam. "They're just people."
"Yeah. What'd you expect?"
"How often do they feed you?"
"Once a day. And they use that thing over there to open the cage."
"And that's the only time you see them?"
"So far. But I'm waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
"Ned Beatty time, man."
"Not sure that's the best idea," I say.
"I think that's the least of your worries right now," says Sam.
"Oh yeah?" asks Alvin.
"Yeah."
"What do you think they want, then?"
Sam starts pulling on something above his cage. "Depends on who they are."
"They're a bunch of psycho hillbilly rednecks, if you ask me. Looking for love in all the wrong places."
"Sounds about right by the look of them," I say.
Sam keeps pulling. I can see it from the edge of my cage. A metal coil. Could be the power. Maybe.
"Who are you, kid?" Alvin asks me.
"Jane," I say.
"Well Jane, I hope you've come to terms with your short life."
I say nothing.
"Because we probably ain't getting out here."
"My brother will come," I say.
"Uh huh."
"Leave her alone," says Sam.
"What's it to you?" asks Alvin.
"She's my little sister."
Alvin laughs. "How nice for you. You get to die together."
"Well aren't you a glass half full," I say.
Sam keeps pulling.
"What's your name again?" Alvin asks Sam.
"It's Sam," says Sam.
"Why don't you give it up, Sammy, there's no way out."
"Don't call me…Sammy," he groans and the metal coil thing falls down. Something clatters onto the floor.
"What is it?" asks Alvin.
Sam looks at it. "It's a bracket."
"Well, thank God, a bracket. Now we've got them, huh?"
Alvin's cage unlocks and opens. "Must've been a short…" he says, he climbs out of his cage. "Maybe you knocked something loose."
"I don't think so…" I say.
"I think you should get back in there, Jenkins," says Sam.
"What?" asked Alvin.
"This isn't right."
"Don't you wanna get out of here?"
"Yeah. But that was too easy."
"Look, I'm gonna get out of here, and I'm gonna send help, okay, don't worry."
"No, I'm serious. Jenkins—this might be a trap."
"I think Sam's right," I say.
"Bye Sammy. Bye Janie," says Alvin and he leaves.
"Jenkins!" calls Sam.
Alvin's cage slams shut.
"Well that's not good at all," I say.
"No…" says Sam.
We sit in silence for a while.
"Maybe he got away?" I ask quietly.
"Maybe…" Sam says. He comes to lean against the side of the cage that I'm resting on. "But I doubt it."
I nod and lean my head on the cage, where Sam is. It's only a few minutes later we hear a blood curdling scream. Barley twenty minutes later two guys come in with a woman, they lock her in Alvin's cage. Well, I guess now it's her cage.
"Where are they getting these people?" I ask when the creeps have gone.
Sam shakes his head. "I don't know."
The woman wakes up with a groan.
"You alright?" Sam asks her.
"Are you Sam Winchester?" she asks.
"Yeah."
"Your, uh, your cousin's looking for you. And your sister?"
"Here," I say.
"Oh good," she says.
"Thank God," says Sam. "Where is he?"
"I, uh—I cuffed him to my car."
Sam sighs.
"Great," I say.
The door opens. Oh crap. Can't they just leave us alone?
"Sam?"
It's Dean.
"Jane?" he looks into my cage. "Are you guys hurt?"
"No," says Sam.
"No," I say.
"Damn it's good to see you guys."
"How did you get out of the cuffs?" asks the woman.
Dean turns to her in her cage. "Oh I know a trick or two. Alright." He comes to the door of my cage. "Oh these locks look like they're gonna be a bitch."
"Well, there's some kind of automatic control right there," says Sam.
"Have you seen 'em?"
"Yeah. Dude, they're just people."
"And they jumped you? Must be getting a little rusty there, kiddo. Jane I get, but you-"
"Hey!" I yell. "That's not fair."
"Sorry Janie but you're like half Sam's size," says Dean. He goes to the panel. "What do they want?"
"I don't know," says Sam. "They let Jenkins go, but that was some sort of trap. It doesn't make any sense to me."
"Well, that's the point. You know, with our usual playmates, there's rules, there's patterns. But with people, they're just crazy."
"See anything else out there?"
"Uh, he has about a dozen junked cars hidden out back. Plates from all over, so I'm thinking when they take someone, they take their car, too."
"Did you see a black Mustang out there? About ten years old?" asks the woman.
"Yeah, actually, I did. Your brother's? I'm sorry… Let's get you guys out of here, then we'll take care of those bastards. This thing takes a key. Key?"
"I don't know," says Sam.
"Alright, I better go find it."
"Hey, be careful."
"Yeah."
Dean leaves and we're all left like rats in cages.
"I'm Kathleen," the woman says after a while. "I'm a deputy. I was helping your cousin…brother. God knows who he is."
I nod. No one says anything. Someone comes in. It's not Dean. He goes to the panel.
"What are you doing?" asks Sam.
Sam's cage door unlocks and the man walks towards him and opens the door, aims a gun at Sam.
"Don't!" I yell.
"Hey!" yells Kathleen.
The man turns to me and Kathleen and Sam jumps on the guy. Sam easily gets the gun and his the guy in the face with it and the guy falls to the fall. Sam points the gun at him but it doesn't go off.
"Damn," says Sam.
Sam unlocks mine and Kathleen's cages. He comes over to mine as I'm crawling out and helps me up.
"They won't be far away," says Sam.
Kathleen and I nod.
Sam takes me with him and we hide behind a bale of hay. I've never been so still in my life. Sam mouths 'stay here' to me and he crawls away. I hear gun shots. Then a scuffle. I barely breathe. I keep expecting a face to appear above me. Someone yells. Sam? There's more firing, more scuffling. A thud. Cages locking.
"Jane?"
I look up to see Sam standing over me.
"You okay?" he asks, holding out a hand.
I take it and stand up. The man in the cage. Kathleen has a gun on an older man. "I'll watch this one," she says. "You guys go ahead."
Sam and I just stand there.
"Go ahead," she says.
Sam takes my arm and we leave the cage room. Sam hands me a crowbar, no idea where he got that from and makes me wait on the porch. Sam and Dean come out only a few minutes later. Dean looks definitely worse for wear.
"Dean!" I say, dropping the crowbar and hugging him.
I hear the breath leave him with an oof, but he hugs me back and we go down the stairs. Kathleen is walking towards us.
"Where's the girl?" she asks.
"Locked her in a closet," says Dean. "What about the dad?"
"Shot. Trying to escape."
No one says anything. So I figure we're all just pretending that didn't happen. Kathleen manages to find jacket with her walkie talkie. We start walking down the road that is the hillbillies' driveway.
"I think the car's at the police station," says Dean.
"So, state police and the FBI are gonna be here within the hour. They're gonna wanna talk to you. I suggest that you're both long gone by then," says Kathleen.
"Thanks. Hey, listen, I don't mean to press our luck, but we're kind of in the middle of nowhere. Think we could catch a ride?"
"Start walking. Duck if you see a squad car."
"Sounds great to me. Thanks," says Sam.
"Listen, uh….I'm sorry about your brother," says Dean.
"Thank you. It was really hard not knowing what happened to him. I thought it would be easier once I knew the truth—but it isn't really…Anyway, you should go."
We start walking down the road.
"Never do that again," Dean says.
"Do what?"
"Go missing like that."
"You were worried about me."
"All I'm saying is, either of you vanish like that again, I'm not looking for you."
"Sure you won't," says Sam.
"I'm not."
Sam and I laugh.
"So, you got sidelined by a thirteen-year-old girl, huh?" asks Sam.
"Oh, shut up," says Dean.
"Just saying, getting rusty there, kiddo."
"Shut up."
"I think we're all missing the big issue here," I say.
"Oh yeah?" says Dean. "What's that?"
"My new shoes are completely ruined."
Sam and Dean laugh.
"I'm serious!"
"I know, Munch, that's why we bought you two pairs, yeah?"
"What about this pair?"
"They can be your work shoes."
I elbow Dean in the side, and he trips off the road into the ditch, nearly completely losing his balance; arms flailing, legs kicking. It takes him several seconds to recover and catch up to us on the road.
Sam bursts out laughing. "And now a 12-year-old got you! Dude, you really are rusty."