Supernatural: Night Terror Read Online Free PDF Page B

Colorado?” he asked.
    “Clayton Falls,” Bobby said. “Giant lizards. Headless horseman. Hit-and-run car with no driver. Definite weirdmeter stuff.”
    Sam got up from his bed to position himself closer to the mic.
    “Mass hallucinations?” he said.
    “Wasn’t no hallucination that run down a kid fresh outta high school,” Bobby responded.
    Sam frowned.
    “We’ll check it out, Bobby,” Dean said, ending the call. He turned to Sam. “I’ll get coffee. Wanna see what you can find online before we hit the road?”
    Sam nodded. “Sure. Wi-Fi hotspot here’s not half bad.” As he opened the laptop and powered it up, he added wistfully, “Now that I can sleep again, I can’t find the time.”
    Dean paused in the doorway on his way out.
    “Sleep’s overrated, right?”
    Several hours later, the sun was up, the coffee was long gone, and Dean was behind the wheel of the Impala, riding I-80 West out of Nebraska. In the passenger seat, Sam had the laptop computer open to review the pages he’d downloaded for offline viewing before they’d left the motel.
    Dean glanced over at him. “Anything?”
    “Not much more than what Bobby gave us.”
    “So Spielberg wasn’t in town filming giant lizards?”
    “Homeless man complained to a beat cop that he was chased by a giant Gila monster.”
    Dean raised an eyebrow. “Homeless guy?”
    “That’s what it says. Gavin Shelburn.”
    “Anyone else see Godzilla?”
    “No.”
    “Maybe chalk that one up to Gavin hitting the sauce a little hard.”
    “Maybe,” Sam said noncommittally. “Steven Bullinger, eighteen, hit-and-run victim. Head trauma. Pronounced dead at the scene. Before he died, Bullinger told a witness the car had no driver.”
    “You did say ‘head trauma?’”
    “Yeah,” Sam said, conceding the point. “But... another witness tried to grab the license plate number on the car.”
    “Okay, that one sounds clear-headed.”
    “She says the car disappeared. There one minute, gone the next.”
    Dean tapped the steering wheel. “Phantom car. Okay. What about the headless horseman?”
    “Apparently he chased the daughter of the chief of police. Lucy Quinn.”
    “So we got something.”
    “Something,” Sam agreed. “Dean, I’ve been reading through old articles. Lot of press about a garment factory explosion six months ago. Gas leak. Partial building collapse. Trapped a lot of people. Sprinklers malfunctioned. Those who weren’t killed by the initial explosion and fire died from smoke inhalation.”
    “How many?”
    “Thirty-two dead. All locals,” Sam said. He clicked on another saved page. “Lots of editorials. Worst catastrophe in town history. Human interest stories about each of the victims and their families. Petitions for a memorial. Public debate about the location of the memorial. At the site of the explosion or opposite the town hall. Articles on the bidding and construction. Looks like the town hall location won.”
    “Public grieving,” Dean said. “Think there’s a connection?”
    “It’s something to consider.”
    The Winchesters reached Clayton Falls by early afternoon and, after a brief stop at the Liquor Barn, checked into the StarBrite Motel, their room an instant sixties flashback with framed flower-power prints on the walls, tie-dyed pillowcases, bedside lava lamps, peace sign drawer handles and mirror decals, and a colorful beaded curtain doorway for the closet.
    Clutching a brown paper shopping bag in one arm, Dean took in the rainbow color scheme with a frown.
    “Place looks like they provide LSD tabs instead of complimentary soap,” he said.
    “Might explain some of the weirdness in town,” Sam replied with a shrug.
    Reaching into his Liquor Barn bag, Dean removed three bottles of whiskey and two six-packs of beer, lining them up on the dresser beside the secured television.
    “Planning a bender tonight?” Sam asked.
    “No,” Dean said, determined to avoid any further mention of his evaporating alcohol