79. I Believe the Children Are Our Future

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INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT

ALLIANCE, NEBRASKA

A young woman, Amber, watched a movie on television. A hairbrush sat on top of the TV. Amber leaned forward and took the brush, brushing her hair while she watched. She heard something and turned around. She put the brush back and got up to look around.

"Jimmy?" Amber called.

Amber walked a little further and slid a closet open—she was wearing plastic nails—to reveal a boy, Jimmy, unmoving and covered in something red that looked like blood.

Amber sighed. "I told you to go to bed."

Jimmy answered with minimal movement, "I can't. I'm dead."

Amber leaned down to touch the red stuff. "What is this—ketchup? Gross!"

Jimmy got up. "Ow! You're mean."

"Yeah, that's what your parents pay me for—to be mean." She put a hand on Jimmy's shoulder, pushing him along. He was wearing a headband with arrow halves on either side. "Bed—now!"

"Okay, okay. Just wait."

Amber let go. Jimmy turned around, took off the headband, and said, "Wait. I'll go to bed if you let me touch your boob."

Amber sighed, shoving Jimmy along. "Oh! Go!"

Amber watched Jimmy climb the stairs, then went back to the movie. She heard barking and turned off the TV; the barking continued. Amber went to the window and moved the curtains to look out.

EXT. HOUSE – NIGHT

INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT

There was nothing but static on the TV. A man and woman, Jimmy's parents, walked past the window and into the house. Amber was lying on her side on the sofa, seemingly asleep.

"I'll, uh, take Amber home," Jimmy's father said. "Don't wait up."

The mother, Francine, went upstairs. The father shut off the TV and went to the back of the sofa.

"Amber," Jimmy's father called, getting no response. "Amber." Still no response. "Amber?"

The father leaned down to touch Amber and felt something squelch. He turned on the light and looked at the liquid on his fingers: blood. The father rolled Amber onto her back. There was a hole in her skull that showed her brain.

"Francine!"

INT. MORGUE – DAY

Dean, holding Kit's hand, and Sam, wearing suits and dresses, held up FBI badges.

"Agents Page and Plant, FBI," Dean said. "Pardon the little girl."

"Gentlemen. Little lady," the doctor greeted. "What brings you by?"

"We need to see Amber Freer's body," Sam replied.

"Really? What for?"

"The police report said something clawed through her skull?" Dean said in a questioning tone.

"You didn't read the autopsy report that I emailed out this morning?"

"W-we had, uh, server issues," Sam lied.

The doctor walked away. Dean and Sam followed. Kit ran after them. The doctor opened one of the freezers and pulled out the slab with Amber's body. He tossed back the sheet from her head.

"When they brought her in, we thought she was attacked by a wolf or something," the doctor told them.

"Or something," Dean said, shielding Kit's eyes.

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