You Found Me |Sam Winchester| [2015 Wattys Winner]

47. Croatoan Crisis

47. Croatoan Crisis

Bobby had the best view of the warehouse from the parking spot he'd taken once we got there. Using binoculars, we watched as a yellow truck backed up to the loading dock. There were at least one or two others at other stations.

"Yup, they're loading up hotshots of Croatoan in the trucks," Bobby reported. I put the binoculars down, closing my eyes to make them not dry up. "Okay. First truck don't leave for an hour. We get in, we plant the c-four every twenty-five feet, then we pull the fire alarm."

"That truck is leaving," Cas pointed out. We all looked to see the one that had just pulled in was already on its way out.

"Balls!" Bobby hissed. "Okay, new plan."

Bobby explained the plan to us as we loaded up. Cas was going to take out the truck driver and stop the gate—because we knew once they knew something was up they'd try and shut us out. Once we'd slip through, we'd haul ass to the warehouse, find a way in, and then proceed with our normal plan.

This of course was if everything worked out in our favor.

As Cas ran off to do his part, Bobby, Sam, and I got into position, with me taking the rear. I still don't understand the big deal with Croatoan.

Once we heard the never-ending honk of the truck horn, the three of us bolted. The gate gave us enough of a berth to slip through, and we dug in and ran. Of course, all the demons at the warehouse knew of our presence. They were trying to lock us out, the doors were closing fast.

"No, no, no!" I snarled as the doors just shut us out. I kept my gun at my side.

"Side door!" Bobby ordered.

Bobby was the first to reach it and try the handle. It was locked. Sam tried it, though it made no difference, so I had no idea why he tried to begin with. On other side, I heard a hysteric cry for help.

"Get back!" I shouted. I aimed right at the handle, blasting it. My brows rose in surprise. Huh, Dean's help really did come in handy. I ripped the door open and between Sam and myself, we pushed frantic people in the right direction, away from all the chaos.

"Go," Bobby barked. "Come on. Go."

Once the last of the people were out, we slipped in, guns out and ready to shoot. The door shut behind us, and things fell silent. I swallowed, feeling my arms tremble. As we slowly trekked deeper into the warehouse, my ears picked up on something. Not groaning. More like...muffled cries of pain. Feeble attempts to call out for help.

"Oh my..." I couldn't even get "God" to come out of my mouth.

On the other end of the crated path, there was a hoard of people, and they looked to be chowing down on a body that I couldn't see. I nearly dropped my weapon from the shock. Bobby and Sam were taken aback by the scene too. At least this wasn't sending me into a comatose state.

You know where to hit. Common knowledge, no lessons. Know the critical hits. The herd of people—if I could even call them that at this point—realized they were being watched. Some rose from their crouches. Their irises were a blood color, a very bad sign that sent shivers down my spine.

I stood between Sam and Bobby. The creatures on the opposite end of us took us in before they charged. We raised our weapons in unison and fired. Each creature fell after at least two shots. Bullet to the chest. Bullet to the forehead. Bullets to the chest. So many loud bangs. The bodies dropped like flies. Real target practice. You would have thought we were at a shooting gallery.