The Winchester Code

Chapter 3 - Bleeding Feet and Big Jackets

Bleeding Feet and Big Jackets

Chapter 3

I woke up again when I hit my head. For a moment I thought I’d fallen out of bed, but it only took me a second to remember what had happened. Our house had burnt down. My family had died and now I was in the back of two suspicious men’s car!
“We can’t save everyone, Sammy.” I heard one of the men say.
The car smelled like smoke, but maybe that was just me. Beyond the smoke, I could smell men’s deodorant mixed with cologne.
I felt stiffer than I did the list time I woke, and each move made me want to cry in pain. The jacket felt nice covering me, and it hid me from the men in the front.
“I know we can’t save everyone, Dean.” Sam said to his partner. I remembered my dream. Sam was Mr Wyatt and Dean was Mr Hewitt. “But this time we couldn’t save anyone!”
I almost coughed. Sam and Dean… did they knew that this would happen?
“It’s ok, Sam.” Dean said, glancing up from the road.
“How?” Sam asked quietly. The pain in his voce tore at my heart. “How is this in any way ok?”
“You’re still alive.” Dean answered, putting his hand on Sam’s shoulder.
Silence stretched and I suppressed my coughing as much as I could. I breathed shallowly, although I doubt that would’ve been able to hear me over the humming of the engine.
Minutes passed by. I probably would’ve fallen asleep again if it wasn’t for the bumpy road.
“We’re coming to a town. There’s a motel up ahead. We’ll book a room.”
“We don’t need a room, Dean.” Sam sighed. “We can sleep in the car.”
“I’m tired.” Dean answered. “I want to sleep in a proper bed.”
Sam didn’t say anything.
More time passed and light started flashing through the window. We’d reached a town.
I couldn’t see any signs from my hiding point on the floor, but the road smoothed out and the car slowed.
Dean pulled the car into a parking lot. He turned off the engine and the two sat in silence for a moment before Dean left. I heard Sam grunt. I kept myself completely still, holding my breath in the utter silence.
I heard a tap on the rood and Sam jerked his head upwards. He sighed and left the car, slamming the door behind him. I counted to five before I allowed myself to hack and coughed at the grit lining my throat and lungs.
I picked myself up off the floor. I looked out the window and saw a brick building. A neon sign above the car read ‘Preston Motel’. The car park was deserted and the two men were nowhere in sight.
I carefully rearranged myself on the seat, pulling the heavy jacket over my shoulders.
Before I gave myself the chance to fall asleep again, I leaned over and moved myself to the front of the car. They could come back anytime! I opened the door and half tumbled out. I picked myself up and put the jacket on properly, shivering against the cool summer night. I stumbled forwards and shoved my hands in the pockets.
I drew them out quickly.
I wasn’t expecting anything to be in them.
I carefully put my hand into the left pocket. I drew out a mobile phone. I looked at the lock screen. A default sunset and the time flashed before me. 03:19.
I wondered if I would be able to get a bed in the motel?
I pocketed the phone and dug my hand in the other pocket.
I had no money, so decidedly not.
I clasped something smooth, metallic and cold. I pulled it out.
It was a blade.
It looked like a hunting knife, a bit smaller. The silver blade was clean, but blood had stuck to the inside of some strange carvings. One edge of the night was serrated and blood had caked next to the leather handle.
I knew those men were no good!
Who goes around carrying large knives in their pockets?
I walked stiffly out the car park.
Each step caused me some degree of pain. The burns still burned and the cuts from the window still felt like there was glass embedded in them. I was still coughing from the smoke and my chest still hurt with each breath.
I reached the motel door and thought about going inside. Before I could work up the courage, to open the door, a commotion inside stopped me.
The chances of the person being either Hewitt or Wyatt were rather high, and if either of them saw me in the oversized jacket, they would probably kill me. Literally!
I quickly ducked around the corner, a lone shard of thick glass jabbing into my bare foot. I bit my tongue to stop myself from cursing and watched Sam exit the motel.
He went to the car and looked around confused. I realised I’d forgotten to shut the car door.
He did a quick search of the car to see if anything was missing.
He came out the car and shrugged before getting in the driver’s seat and pulled out the car park.
I counted to ten and stepped out from the corner of the building. I took a deep breath and leaned down to check my aching foot.
I heard the motel door slam again while I was still leaning over my foot. The noise startled me and I stumbled backwards, losing my balance as I fell back behind the building. I hit my head on the brick wall and gasped, a little dazed.
“Damn it, Sam!” I heard Dean curse. I blinked a couple of times trying to clear my head. I leaned over and peeked out the corner of the building in time to see Dean walking through the car park and down the road in the same direction as Sam.
I watched him until he had walked out of site and I slowly stood up, using the wall for support. I leaned against the cold bricks as I regained my balance, then stepped out from the shadows. My foot was now screaming in pain, drowning out the pain shouting at me as my arms and legs bred from the grazes I had acquired from my plunge out the window. The burns from the fire are still burning and I long for a cold shower.
I took some long steps towards the street light, hoping I could get a better look at myself.
I stepped under the lamps glow and slowly lifted my foot. I didn’t need to touch it to know that the red liquid oozing from the wound was blood. I’d left my bloody footprints through the whole car park. Blood spurted out in time with my heart beat.
“Shit.” I whispered to myself. What was I going to do?
“Excuse me miss?” I jumped and nearly tumbled over again. I regained my balance and looked up. It took a moment for me to focus enough to work out that the person was a middle-aged man. He had grey hair and a round belly. The street light made his shirt and pants a sickly green colour and ‘Preston Motel’ was stitched on the breast pocket. “Are you alright?”
A nametag was pinned under the motels emblem.
“Do you have a bandage,” I asked, squinting at the badge, “Brad?”
“A bandage won’t help those burns, love.” Brad answered. I narrowed me eyes, wondering how he could see my burns under the thick jacket. There were burns on my legs, but he wouldn’t be able to see them in the dim light.
“Oh fires are tragedies, aren’t they?” Brad took a step forward. I backed up, delving my hands into my pockets.
“How did you know?” I asked. Brad took another step forwards so he was close enough to grab me if I wasn’t quick. I tried to back up some more, but I ran into the lamp pole. My fingers found their target in the jacket pocket.
“You were supposed to die in that fire.” Brad continued. My mind flashed back to the inferno. “Mummy, daddy, Gracie and poor old Zaviana. All died in a tragic house fire.” I watched in horror as Brad’s eyes darkened and changed to complete black. He shrugged innocently. “No worries, you’ll die here.”
He leapt at me. Without thinking, I pulled the knife from my pocket and held it in front of me. I stabbed him in the shoulder as he flew towards me. I watched him fall to the ground, horrified. Something glowed under his skin and his opened mouth flashed as if lightening was striking his insides. Before I was on the ground, the man was dead.
“Oh god.” I said, my mind filling with thoughts of prison. I kneeled over him and reached my fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse that was there. He was dead. Cold, even.
“No. No.” I murmured as I gripped the knife. I give it a tug and it slipped from the dead man’s shoulder. I looked around. “Oh, god. Please, no!”
What should I do?
The street was quiet. I could be long gone before anyone found Brad.
I gripped the knife and wiped the blade on the sleeve of the too-big borrowed jacket.
I stood up and debated the best direction to flee. It would help if I knew where the hell I was.
I walked away from the man, shock keeping me from freaking out. I focused on the footpath. I put on foot in front of the other one. How did this happen? Where would I go? After all, I had no family to look after me.
Before I’d gotten out of the glow from the street light, I heard a gar rumbling down the road.
I froze. Surely they’d see the man.
It took me a moment from my feet to register the order my brain was sending them. RUN!
I took a couple of steps and nearly fell over.
Pain shot from all different points of my body. My fast run turned out to be more of a quick hobble. I turned back to the motel so I could hide behind its wall. I limped as fast as I could and felt the cars headlights brush over me as I ducked into position.
The car turned into the motel driveway.
No. I thought. Anyone but them!
The black Chevy Impala pulled up and Sam got out the car from the passenger seat. He walked straight over to the man lying on the footpath. Dean followed, looking around the car park. In the night light, I could just make out the silhouette of a gun in his hand. I suppressed a yelp as he turned in my direction. I shrunk closer to the wall, slowly sliding into a sitting position.
“Dean!” Sam called the other man. Dean walked over to him and I watched as the off-coloured street light made the men’s faces glow a sick yellow-green. They were arguing, but I couldn’t hear what it was about. I huddled my knees up to my chest and looked to the sky. The sun would be rising soon.
“That’s impossible!” I heard Dean shout. I looked at him and watched as he walked back to the car. “The knife is in the pocket of my jacket.”
Dean opened the car door and leaned inside. Sam had followed him back to the car.
A sick feeling settled in my stomach. The jacket, the knife; they were no longer in the car.
“Ah, Sammy.” Dean said, emerging from the vehicle. “It’s gone.”
Sam gave Dean a long look. “Did you take it inside?”
“No,” He answered angrily. “I left my jacket in the car!”
“You don’t think-”
“No.” Dean cut him off. “They would’ve only taken the knife.”
“Well what are we going to do?” Sam asked. Dean was silent for a moment. He turned to his brother with his hand out.
“Pass me your phone.”
“What?” Sam asked, “Dean-”
“Just do it!”
Sam dug into the pocket of his jeans. He passed his phone to Dean. Before I figured out what the smaller of the two men were up to, a distorted guitar solo started singing from the pocket of my borrowed jacket. Sam and Dean both looked in the direction of the sound. Dean passed the phone back to Sam and cocked his gun. I closed my eyes and put my hands over my ears. If I could block them out, maybe they’d go away.
I didn’t move until I felt a small bump against my shoulder.
I looked up slowly.
The phone in my pocket stopped ringing and I found myself staring down the barrel of a gun – literally.
“Who are you?” Dean demands. “And why are you wearing my jacket?”