Seven Bridges Road

XIX. Bloodlust

The Impala zoomed up a two-lane, driven by Dean. He was in a good mood, grooving along to the music.

"Whoo!" Dean cried. "Listen to her purr! Have you ever heard anything so sweet?"

Sam glanced at his brother. "You know, if you two, want to get a room, just let us know, Dean."

"Oh, don't listen to him, baby, he doesn't understand us," Dean said.

"You're in a good mood," Sam noted.

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"No reason."

"Got my car, got a case, things are looking up."

"Wow. You hear a couple of severed heads and a pile of dead bodies and you're Mister Sunshine."

"How far to Red Lodge?"

"Uh, about another three hundred miles."

"Good." Dean floored it.

They reached Red Lodge and entered. The three entered the lodge and a sheriff with an impressive mustache began talking to them; they were posing as reporters.

"The murder investigation is ongoing, and that's all I can share with the press at this time," the sheriff said.

"Sure, sure, we understand that, but just for the record, you found the first, uh, head last week, correct?" Sam questioned.

"Mm-hmm."

"Okay, and the other, a uh, Christina Flanigan-"

"That was two days ago. Is there-" a young woman knocked on the door and pointed at her watch. "Oh. Sorry boys, young lady, time's up, we're done here."

"One last question-"

"Yeah, what about the cattle?" Dean asked.

The sheriff frowned. "Excuse me?"

"You know, the cows found dead, split open, drained... over a dozen cases."

"What about them?"

Johanna raised a brow. "So you don't think there's a connection?"

"Connection... with..."

"First cattle mutilations, now two murders? Kind of sounds like ritual stuff."

"You know, like Satanic cult ritual stuff?" Dean added.

The sheriff laughed. "You -- you're not kidding."

"No."

"Those cows aren't being mutilated. You wanna know how I know?"

"How?" Sam asked.

"Because there's no such thing as cattle mutilation. Cow drops, leave it in the sun, within 48-hours the bloat will split it open so clean it's just about surgical. The bodily fluids fall down into the ground and get soaked up because that's what gravity does. But, hey, it could be Satan. What newspaper did you say you work for?"

"World Weekly News..." Dean said.

"Weekly World News," Sam corrected.

"World-"

"Weekly World-"

"Weekly... I'm new."

"Get out of my office," the sheriff ordered.

As soon as they exited, Johanna looked at Dean. "Really? We worked on that."

Dean shot her a look. "I had to sell it. I think I did pretty well."