Dean
dragged the litter bearing his brother until the sun was straight above him and the man could feel its heat. He
glanced at the sky. The clouds were
gone.
“So much
for rain,” the hunter muttered. He sat
down on a boulder and removed his jacket and long-sleeved shirt. He found some small branches, rose to his
feet and made a small shelter on the stretcher to cover Sam’s face.
“Damn it,
Sammy. We’re in a mess,” he
murmured. Dean sat back down and took a
few sips of water. After resting for a
few minutes, the older Winchester rose and knelt down beside his brother. He attempted to give the unconscious man some
water. He watched it trickle down the
younger man’s face and sighed.
Placing
the water back in the backpack he was carrying, the hunter picked up the end of
the litter and began to pull it again.
He made several stops similar to this one and could never get water down
his brother’s throat.
Looking at
his watch, Dean noted that is was almost 5:30.
He was exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and hurting. He found himself stumbling and finally sat
down by his brother.
“Sammy,
you need to wake up, man,” he spoke wearily.
“I know you can’t do much with the leg, but damn it, Sammy; I need you.”
Dean dozed
off for a short while. When the hunter awoke,
the sun was setting. He could tell by
the change in temperature and the darkness in some areas of the canyon. He felt trapped within its walls; not
remembering it going this far.
The older
brother picked up the stretcher and walked until the darkness made it impossible
to go further. He sat down, wishing he
was in the Impala. The main thing was to
get back to the Impala, and Dean knew he was moving slow. The temperature got colder. Finally, the hunter turned on his flashlight
and looked for dry timber. Stacking some
wood, the young man made a fire to keep the two of them warm.
He
struggled to stay awake and protect his brother, but the lack of food and the
injured leg compounded the exhaustion and Dean finally fell asleep.
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