porn.”
“What?”
“I’ll know it when I see it.”
“Don’t you think Chief Quinn or Jeffries will call if anything weird happens?”
“Maybe,” Dean said. “But by the time they get around to it, might be too late to do anything. Hey, nap if you want. I see a headless horseman, I’ll be sure to wake you.”
“Funny, Dean,” Sam said. “But if we’re gonna do this, I need coffee.”
“Place up ahead,” Dean said, nodding toward a white sign with red letters at the corner of a parking lot: “Mack’s Qwik Mart.” “Says it’s open twenty-four seven.”
Dean flicked on his turn signal as he neared the convenience store’s parking lot.
Beside him, Sam sat up straight, leaned forward.
“Wait, what’s happening?” he asked, peering ahead of him.
“Don’t know.”
A group of agitated people in the parking lot were yelling at each other, pointing at the ground, and backing away. A woman with facial piercings, wearing a distressed leather jacket and jeans, ran to the front of the store and pounded on the windows, screaming, “Get out!”
Walking on wobbly legs, an old man fell against the side of his Buick sedan, fumbled for his keys, then gave up and hustled out of the parking lot. A young woman with bleached blond hair dropped two plastic bags filled with soft drink bottles and unhealthy snacks and raced across the parking lot as if a Hellhound was on her heels. A few people dashed toward their cars, minivans, and SUVs, while others simply followed the blonde’s lead.
“Dude,” Dean said. “ This is porn.”
As the old-timer who’d lost his keys lumbered heedlessly out into the street, Dean stomped on the brake pedal to avoid hitting him. Under bushy gray brows, the man’s eyes were wild.
“Get back!” he yelled. “Get back while you can!”
After that frantic warning, the old man continued his retreat.
Dean slowed to school zone speed and drove up to the parking lot. He was halfway up the entrance ramp when he hit the brake again—hard. Dean would risk his own life before he would imperil the chassis of the Impala. After all, the Impala couldn’t defend itself.
“Sinkhole!” he said.
“You think?”
Sam was right: the word ‘sinkhole’ didn’t begin to cover what was happening in the convenience store’s parking lot. The ground was falling away at an alarming rate, from the center of the parking lot outward, the blacktop was crumbling like burnt toast.
Dean shifted the Impala hurriedly into reverse. The cars lined up behind the row of cement bollards protecting the Plexiglas front of Mack’s Qwik Mart tilted backward as the back wheels lost their support. A metallic-blue Nissan Murano was the first to fall. It landed with a resounding crash, shattering the back and side windows. A silver Dodge Durango followed soon after, slamming into the Nissan with a concussive whump and a protesting screech of metal. The theft alarm whooped and wailed.
Dean twisted around to look through the rear window of the Impala. Seeing the road clear, he gunned the engine and the Impala lurched backward and accelerated away from the convenience store.
“Dean?”
“You’ll get your coffee, Sam.”
“That’s not what I—”
“That sinkhole’s eating cars,” Dean said. “Keeping my baby clear of that.”
Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes. “First things first, right?”
“Damn straight.”
Dean spun the wheel and backed into a parking space along the curb on the far side of the street, a couple of hundred feet from Mack’s Qwik Mart. A few moments later, they were out of the car and sprinting back to the site of the chaos.
Some of the people who had fled the store or abandoned their cars in the unstable parking lot stood on the shoulder of the road, staring in disbelief at the ongoing devastation. The Winchesters shouldered past the line of gawkers, repeating “FBI” and “Move aside” until they reached the parking lot.
Sam turned to the people and held up his
“What?”
“I’ll know it when I see it.”
“Don’t you think Chief Quinn or Jeffries will call if anything weird happens?”
“Maybe,” Dean said. “But by the time they get around to it, might be too late to do anything. Hey, nap if you want. I see a headless horseman, I’ll be sure to wake you.”
“Funny, Dean,” Sam said. “But if we’re gonna do this, I need coffee.”
“Place up ahead,” Dean said, nodding toward a white sign with red letters at the corner of a parking lot: “Mack’s Qwik Mart.” “Says it’s open twenty-four seven.”
Dean flicked on his turn signal as he neared the convenience store’s parking lot.
Beside him, Sam sat up straight, leaned forward.
“Wait, what’s happening?” he asked, peering ahead of him.
“Don’t know.”
A group of agitated people in the parking lot were yelling at each other, pointing at the ground, and backing away. A woman with facial piercings, wearing a distressed leather jacket and jeans, ran to the front of the store and pounded on the windows, screaming, “Get out!”
Walking on wobbly legs, an old man fell against the side of his Buick sedan, fumbled for his keys, then gave up and hustled out of the parking lot. A young woman with bleached blond hair dropped two plastic bags filled with soft drink bottles and unhealthy snacks and raced across the parking lot as if a Hellhound was on her heels. A few people dashed toward their cars, minivans, and SUVs, while others simply followed the blonde’s lead.
“Dude,” Dean said. “ This is porn.”
As the old-timer who’d lost his keys lumbered heedlessly out into the street, Dean stomped on the brake pedal to avoid hitting him. Under bushy gray brows, the man’s eyes were wild.
“Get back!” he yelled. “Get back while you can!”
After that frantic warning, the old man continued his retreat.
Dean slowed to school zone speed and drove up to the parking lot. He was halfway up the entrance ramp when he hit the brake again—hard. Dean would risk his own life before he would imperil the chassis of the Impala. After all, the Impala couldn’t defend itself.
“Sinkhole!” he said.
“You think?”
Sam was right: the word ‘sinkhole’ didn’t begin to cover what was happening in the convenience store’s parking lot. The ground was falling away at an alarming rate, from the center of the parking lot outward, the blacktop was crumbling like burnt toast.
Dean shifted the Impala hurriedly into reverse. The cars lined up behind the row of cement bollards protecting the Plexiglas front of Mack’s Qwik Mart tilted backward as the back wheels lost their support. A metallic-blue Nissan Murano was the first to fall. It landed with a resounding crash, shattering the back and side windows. A silver Dodge Durango followed soon after, slamming into the Nissan with a concussive whump and a protesting screech of metal. The theft alarm whooped and wailed.
Dean twisted around to look through the rear window of the Impala. Seeing the road clear, he gunned the engine and the Impala lurched backward and accelerated away from the convenience store.
“Dean?”
“You’ll get your coffee, Sam.”
“That’s not what I—”
“That sinkhole’s eating cars,” Dean said. “Keeping my baby clear of that.”
Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes. “First things first, right?”
“Damn straight.”
Dean spun the wheel and backed into a parking space along the curb on the far side of the street, a couple of hundred feet from Mack’s Qwik Mart. A few moments later, they were out of the car and sprinting back to the site of the chaos.
Some of the people who had fled the store or abandoned their cars in the unstable parking lot stood on the shoulder of the road, staring in disbelief at the ongoing devastation. The Winchesters shouldered past the line of gawkers, repeating “FBI” and “Move aside” until they reached the parking lot.
Sam turned to the people and held up his
Similar Books
