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Sunday, September 9, 2012

When is a Ghost Town Not a Ghost Town Pt. 9

Sam and Garth followed a very frustrated Dean Winchester up the rocky trail.  The older brother stayed about twenty feet ahead of them.  Sam would catch a glimpse of the small pocket flashlight the man was using. 

It took a few minutes to realize Dean had stopped moving.  The other two men caught up with him, and Sam noticed Dean was moving his head right and left, sniffing the air.

“What is it?” Garth queried.

“Shhh,” Dean responded.  “Do ya smell it?”

“Burnt rope,” the smaller man answered.

“Pot,” Sam replied.

“Yeah, Sammy.  Not a good idea to hang around here for long.  Cops will show up.”

“Naaah,” Garth said.

The hunter stared into the younger man’s face, “No?”

“The police raid every couple of months, Dean.”


“The cops are kind of busy around here, Dean.  I mean there are hookers, nudists, theft, and illegals.  They do a token raid every couple of months.  Whoever gets arrested bails out and moves to a different area in town and lies low for awhile.  No one says anything.”


Sam started laughing when Garth grinned and offered to get Dean some pot.  The hunter shook his head, adding that he would stick to alcohol because it was legal and didn’t have to go through his lungs.

The younger brother asked the smaller hunter, “How do you know these things, Garth?”

“I’ve made a couple of friends,” the man responded.

Dean shook his head and headed back up the rocky trail until a large black shadow blocked the path about thirty yards in front of them.


The three men stared at the shadow.

“It’s a black bear,” Garth stated.

Sam watched his brother as the man turned and faced the other hunter.

“A bear?  Well, what do we do now?”

“Well, normally, I’d make a lot of noise to scare it away, but it’s late.  We’ll bother the neighbors here.  My cabin’s right over there.  I’ll see you two in the morning.”

“What?” Dean’s voice rose an octave.  “Sammy?”

“I guess we make noise, Dean.”

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