Among Us: A Supernatural Novel written by Carver Edlund

Roadside Assistance

The Impala's rear wheels spun, sounding like a rope whizzing through a pulley. The back of the car jumped but the front end stayed put. The passenger door creaked.

"No good," Sam reported. He flopped into his seat, his hair and shoulders clumped with white, his hands and face red. He wrestled a moment with the grave-digging shovel before wedging it behind his seat. "We're stuck."

Dean released the gas pedal and let out the breath he'd been holding on a heartfelt, "Son of a bitch." He rested his forehead against the steering wheel. Hot air from the dash vents washed over his hands and ruffled his hair.

Think, think, think, he told himself. As if the flood hadn't been bad enough! They'd escaped that with the help of some speedy sandbagging and traffic direction by the fire department, but the snow had swooped down on them not far out of downtown. Rear-wheel drive was meant for flat stretches of blacktop, for opening the big block and letting her roar, for leaving everyone else in the dust, not this wet, sticky, slippery nonsense. The last ten miles had been a battle, and his baby had lost. So, what now?

Get out and push? He watched as Sam whipped an extra t-shirt out of his bag to dry his hair, his shins propped on the dash to get closer to the heat. Even if they could dig the Impala out, they couldn't push it all the way up to the park. The snowfall, if anything, was getting heavier.

Tire chains? They'd never needed them. An oversight he vowed to fix yesterday.

Walk? He squinted out the windshield at the wintry scene. The hills, the trees, the scrub, and the road had gone as still as a black and white photo, laden with a coating of snow. Closer, horizontal wind drove snowflakes so sharp-edged they sounded like sand as they blew against the car.

Walking was out. Two miles in that, without proper winter gear, and they'd be a pair of huntersicles.

The divining charms? He felt in his pocket for the rough little necklace. Even Sam hadn't found an instruction manual, hypothetical or otherwise, anywhere online. Worse, they'd been unable to reach their dad's old friend, Bobby Singer, who might have been able to unearth something in his library of lore. Bad weather here at the foot of the Rockies had strangled cell signal within an inch of its life. As far as the brothers were concerned, the charms were just a bunch of bones and pebbles on a string.

Dean left the necklace where it was, snugged up with Lemara's wristband, and massaged his forehead. Castiel was somewhere up there, trying to stop the breaking of the seal all by himself. It wasn't right. He and Sam should be there!

What, then? What could they do?

Think!

"Cherries," Sam said, his head pressed to the window so he could peer through the snow- and ice-flecked glass.

Dean craned around. A Chevy Tahoe, emblazoned with the Morrison County Police Department shield and splattered with snow and mud, nosed in behind the Impala. Its lightbar flashed in the gloom. No siren, which was a good sign. The driver angled the Tahoe so that its push bumper lined up with the Impala's rear bumper, but he stopped short of making contact and flipped on his hazards. After a moment of half-glimpsed activity, the driver's door swung open.

She, Dean realized, as the cop hopped over the packed ice and snow of their tire tracks, bundled in a puffy black jacket, holding a Maglite up by her shoulder. She rapped on the window with a gloved knuckle.

..::~*~::..

The dull red heating elements of old-fashioned space heaters and the dim yellow of candlelight touched upon the half-seen cords of the unplugged work lights and the piles of broken furniture. Kittney stood in a swelter of anxiety, one arm locked across her middle, the other hand at her mouth. The blend of black, red, and yellow made her think of Hell. She chewed savagely on her thumbnail until she tasted iron. A sliver of nail ripped away and stuck to her tongue. She spat it out, irritated with herself for fearing one silly angel. She should fear her master. If she failed to break this seal after all her boasting . . .