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haddonfieldproject · 3 years ago

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<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

WARREN COUNTY/CARPENTER COUNTY LINE, ILLINOIS

Twenty Seven Hours Later

“Oh god!” The Governor turned from the Mustang with a hand over her mouth, her face suddenly pale.

“Oh jesus fuck!”

She took off across the roadway, running has fast as her flats would carry her. One of those shiny black shoes slipped on the wet asphault causing her to teeter, but she did not fall. She reached the tall wet grass on the opposite side of the road, bent, and proceeded to vomit in the ditch there. Salazar hurried after her.

Meeker and McGrath gave each other a tired look, and then looked back to the wreck. They barely noticed the white truck pull up behind them and Fred Colbourne hop out. A siren wailed in front of them as another Carpenter County Fire Department vehicle joined the other one and ejected six or seven more fire fighters in full yellow and orange regalia.

McGrath pointed to the crumpled body which lay in the middle of the road, atop the white lines.

“That's definitely Lloyd Chumway there,” he said morosely, “And this one here in the drivers seat...that's Lee.”

Meeker spit. “Pretty well intact, considering.”

“Well, they were in a pretty nice truck.” McGrath said, glancing over to the Governor who had now dropped to her knees. Salazar held her gently by the shoulders. She was still wretching.

“It's Booger's truck,” Meeker replied softly.

“The cook from the diner? The one with his head in the..”

Meeker cut him off, “Yep.”

“What about the kids in the Mustang? Can you ID them?” McGrath asked, walking around to the other side of the orange sports-car.

“Well,” Meeker took a deep breath, “This is Brad Doyle's mustang. He's pretty well known by the police around here. Not a bad kid.” He spit again, “But not a very good one either.”

McGrath's eyes panned across the headless torso in the driver's seat clad in a blood soaked Code Orange shirt. Bits of blood, bone, and brain lay all over the steel bumper of the truck which had completley intruded upon the cab of the Mustang. Some of it belonged to Brad, some belonged to the mess of a carcass that lay in the center of the car beside him. There was nothing but a heap of blood, skin, bones, and some sort of leopard print clothing. Another crumpled body lay in the backseat. Young female, her head turned around the wrong way on her neck. She was missing her legs.

“Do you know these other two occupants?” McGrath asked.

“The one in the backseat is Kyndra Bailey. I'm guessing this one,” he gulped as he looked over the tattered remains, “this one is probably Zoey Gonland, her girlfriend. They liked to hang out with Brad.”

McGrath looked up from the other side of the car, “More trouble makers?”

“They were good kids. A little bit of the talk of the town, but good kids.”

McGrath shook his head, “I don't follow.”

“A high school lesbian couple in a small town like this. Everyone knows them.”

“Jesus God Almighty,” Fred Colbourne said as he stepped up to the wreck beside them.

Another man, this one tall and thin with short brown hair, a yellow polo shirt and khaki pants also appeared beside them. Meeker looked at him. The man extended his hand.

“I'm Shelton Ganoux, the Carpenter County Medical Examiner. They called for me as soon as they arrived.” The man said, nodding a head to the fire fighters who were laboring around the wreck of the semi-truck and ambulance.

“And we here in Warren County greatly appreciate your help,” Meeker said, shaking the young man's hand firmly. “We've had one hell of a night over here and our boys are a little tied up.”

Ganoux half-bowed his head, “So I've heard.”

“What the hell happened out here,” Colbourne asked.

The Governor and Salazar re-appeared next to them. The Governor pulled a kleenex from her pantsuit pocket and dabbed at her mouth.

“It appears we have two separate accidents, occurring within about an hour and a half of each other. The orange sports-car, the truck, and the tractor trailer incident occurred at around six o'clock this morning, while the ambulance seems to have collided with the tractor trailer at around seven thirty.”

“Makes sense,” Meeker mumbled.

“What?” Colbourne asked, “What makes sense.”

“It looks like Mustang was behind the tractor trailer and went to try and pass him when they struck the Chumway Brothers in the truck coming from the opposite direction.” McGrath said.

Meeker's phone began to vibrate in his pants. He pulled it out, hit the green button on the screen, and stuck it to his ear.

“Meeker!” He barked. The voice that answered was gruff.

“Hey Deputy, it's Lorne Appleby.”

“Who?”

“Appleby, from Protective Services.”

“Oh right. Well?”

“Nothing yet. I'm gonna head to the hotel room for some shut eye. Miss. Cromer should be back in a few hours. Just wanted to keep you abreast of the...”

“Mrs. who?”

“Cromer...Ellen Cromer...from DCF.”

Meeker rubbed his forehead. “Aww yeah..right right. I'm sorry Appleby, I got a million things going on right now.”

“I know, I know. Like I said, just wanted to keep you abreast of the situation.”

“Who do I got over there now?”

“Officer Chang just left, Officer Stanton just arrived, two other officers in a squad car just went on patrol an hour or so ago...forgive me, I don't remember their names.”

Meeker adjusted the phone from one ear to the other. “Oh right, that's Warner and Farnsworth I think.”

“Maybe.”

“Okay, keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

Meeker ended the call.

“Who was that?” Fred asked.

“Guy from Protective Services about Maddie Keane.”

“Still haven't found her?” Colbourne asked.

Meeker shook his head and waved at the wreckage in front of him. “And if it wasn't for all this shit and everything else I'd have every god damn cop out there looking for her.”

Fred patted his friend's back. “I know Bengie. I know. You're doing the best you can.”

They were quiet for awhile and Ben took some deep breaths to gather his thoughts.

“You know what I'm wondering?” Colbourne asked after some time had passed.

“What's that?” Ben replied quietly.

“How in the world did no one around here hear a wreck like that?”

“Well the only ones out here are Reverend Taylor over there,” he pointed to his right, to a house on the top of a hill, “and Amos Yoder. Amos claims to have been woken up by the second accident, he's talking to the state troopers now.” he pointed to his left, toward a dirt road leading down to a quaint little farmhouse with a big red barn. An Amish man was indeed standing along side the curb next to his driveway talking to an Illinois State Trooper who was dictating his statement on a clipboard.

“Amos said he slept right through the first accident, and I've known Kevin Taylor for years, we had sleep overs together when we were kids. He has to sleep with some kind of noise. He always brought a sound machine to my house, annoying little shit.” Meeker continued, “He sleeps with a box-fan I think. He probably couldn't hear a frieght train coming through his living room.”

“Besides that it was still raining at six o'clock this morning,” Ganoux said, “the sound of the storm could have muffled much of the noise.”

“I just can't believe Gary Windorf didn't see the over-turned tractor trailer.” Colbourne said, gesturing to the ambulance. Gary Windorf had been the driver.

“We told him to haul ass,” Meeker sighed, “it was still dark and raining.”

“Plus he was coming up from over this hill,” McGrath added, waving at the rise in the road behind them.

The Governor cleared her throat. “So we have the Chumway brothers here...where the hell is Myers? Is he in the back of that ambulance where he belongs?”

“Who is Myers?” Ganoux asked.

“Objective number one,” Meeker replied, “Big guy, jumpsuit..”

“The guy with the mask, kinda toasty?”

“That'd be him,” McGrath nodded.

“He's over there.” Ganoux pointed. Three firefighters crouched beside a body near the tree line. The figure was face down in the mud only a few feet from the trailer of Gabriel Couture's truck. “It appears the patient was thrown from the ambulance.”

“But he's dead?” Meeker asked.

“Very much so. He hit a tree in mid air.” Ganoux replied.

“He was dead before he was even put in the ambulance,” Colbourne grunted.

“Well, I can't tell that. I'd need to do a full autopsy to do that.” Ganoux said.

“Forget that,” The Governor spat, “Get his ass in a body bag and let's get it back to the High School. Get all these bodies over there so we can...”

She was interrupted by the sound of approaching vehicles. The whole party turned as a black GMC Van pulled up behind the firetrucks. In the distance, it looked as if the van had been followed by a train of semi-trucks. The truck tractors where plain white with no lettering, while the trailers were gray, and also blank. The hiss of the parking brakes sounded off one at a time.

The doors of the GMC Van opened. Several almost identical looking Caucasian men in black suits stepped out. They seemed to be led by another man, who had climbed out of the passenger side of the van. He was older than the others, judging by the gray in his hair.

The older gentlemen stepped up and extended his hand to the Governor.

“Governor Harris?” He asked simply.

“I am,” The Governor replied, taking his hand.

“I'm Dick Spencer, Director of the Disaster Mortuary Operational Response Team for Region Five.”

“How do you do?” The Governor asked with a forced smile. “This is Deputy McGrath of the---”

Spencer cut her off and pulled a piece of paper from the inside breast pocket of his coat, “Did you request Federal Response?”

“Yes sir, we've had a bad night in this town---” The Governor started but again, Spencer cut her off.

“And you are fully aware that in so doing, you have allowed the Department of Homeland Security to begin to conduct an investigation into the order, as to the reasons why such an order would be placed pursuant to Guideline 542, section B, article F?”

The Governor looked at Meeker and then to McGrath, who took the roll of papers from Agent Spencer. “Yes sir..I am aware of the...”

“Excellent then,” Spencer looked down at the papers and began to thumb through them, “I have two affidavits for your law enforcement officers here to fill out. They must be in precise detail as to the events that transpired over the night , and why you would need to place an order for a portable refrigeration unit for casualty victims.” He looked at McGrath, “You need to fill one out as does this local officer...Officer----???”

Meeker took one of the papers, “Deputy Sheriff Ben Meeker.”

“Meeker,” Spencer nodded, “I also have a battery of questions we need to go over, but first I have three questions.”

McGrath took the other paper, “Yeah, shoot.”

“Do you or do you not want to be a big pain in my ass today?” Spencer asked.

McGrath laughed in spite of himself. “What?”

“I'm not aware that I said anything amusing Agent?” Spencer replied, cutting a look to Meeker and then back at McGrath, “Do you want to be a big pain in my ass today?”

“No sir,” McGrath replied.

Spencer looked back at Meeker, “Do you want to be a big pain in my ass Deputy Sheriff?”

“No sir,” Meeker replied.

“Excellent,” Spencer said, “Now let's get something straight. I don't want to be here, okay?”

Meeker and McGrath nodded.

“You are aware that last night was Halloween?” Spencer asked.

Meeker and McGrath looked at one another, not sure how to answer. McGrath was brave enough to try. “Well—yes...”

“Do little girls and boys play dress up on Halloween?” Spencer asked.

The two men looked at each other again and then replied in unison: “Yes sir,”

“You know who else plays dress up?”

Meeker and McGrath looked at each other a third time and then back at Spencer and shook their heads.

“Russian mail order brides play dress up,” Spencer said matter-of-factly. “Just hours ago, I was playing dress up with my Russian mail order bride, and you can imagine what kind of activities proceed playing dress up and drinking Vodka and 7-Up all night. And you can imagine how doing these things would be very taxing for a man my age, couldn't you?”

“Yes sir,” the men replied.

“I would like nothing better than to be back in my bed, in my Chicago penthouse, with Katya on my ‪Saturday morning‬. But instead, I'm called out to this piss-ant little town in the Storm-of-the-fuckin'-century. You can imagine how that would put me in a bad mood, correct?”

“Yes sir,” the men agreed.

“If there is any thing between those two affidavits that doesn't match up, or if there is anything that has transpired in this town that isn't cherry, or if the two of you aren't one hundred percent crystal clear and straight with me and obedient to my will like two little golden retriever puppy dogs, I will have Washington DC on my ass, and I don't want ‪Washington DC‬ on my ass for anything, and that will turn you into a big pain in the ass for me, and we don't want that now do we?”

“No sir,” they responded.

“I want to get this over with so I can go back home and enjoy my weekend, got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good,” Spencer pointed to the trucks, “Second question,” he said, “Where is the mobile refrigeration unit going to be erected?”

McGrath stuttered and looked at Meeker.

Meeker swallowed and said, “Best place I guess would be the parking lot of the high school...we've already set up a field---.”

“You guess?” Spencer stammered.

“Yes sir,” The Governor cut in, “The parking lot of the High School is where we want it.”

“What high school? I need a name people! I need an address!” Spencer's volume level went up a notch.

“It's Haddonfield High School, on the corner of Belmont and Main Street,” Meeker said.

“Well is it Belmont or Main Street?!” Spencer nearly roared.

“‪248 Belmont Avenue‬,” Meeker responded calmly.

“Got it,” one of the accompanyng men in black suits said quietly, and then they all turned to walk toward the first truck.

“Third question,” Spencer said, his volume level returning to normal, “is there a police station in this god-forsaken town that we conduct business in, or do we rednecks like to stand out in the road and play with our dicks in front of a bunch of mangled car accident victims?”

“I have two of my boys setting up a big tent in the parking lot of the hospital. That's gonna be ground zero for now until that scene gets under control and we can shift everything to the high school.” Meeker replied.

“The tent we use for the exhibitions on fair days and stuff. The recruitment tent?” Colbourne asked.

“Exactly. Herman Beach and Chris Huber are grabbing it from the storage unit. They should be there any minute. We should probably get over there now, I think we're done here.”

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” Spencer said, turning back toward his vehicle. “There better be coffee.”

The Governor piped up, “Don't you have a Mayor in this town somewhere? Someone is gonna have to talk to the press!”

Meeker winced.

NEXT>> (Coming Soon)

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junkandstuff02 · 4 years ago

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kazosa · 8 years ago

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Bob’s Road

Hi everyone, this was written for @nothin-after-79 Holy Shit Jamie Hit 1K writing challenge.

Pairing: John x Reader

Word count: 1753

Warnings: bare legs, language (probably), angst-ish

“Find this road… it’s like Bob’s Road”

A/N: I took this as an opportunity to expand on my current favorite work featuring John x Reader. It’s a bit of a prequel to Get Over Yourself

The hunt had not gone well at all. Thankfully, if they could be thankful for anything, it went fully sideways at the end and they had hauled ass out of town. John was driving like a maniac trying to put as much distance between us and the town we’d just left. He took turns on every sketchy-looking side-road he could find. Neither one of us was paying too much attention to what road we’d turned on to. We wanted to be long gone and hard to find… which was something that seemed to be working a little too well. “John?” you asked. “What?” he barked. You knew John wasn’t mad at you. He was just mad, probably at himself, because things had gone bad, really bad, and he couldn’t do anything about it. It was fall and all of the monsters that hibernate were tearing up the countryside before the winter hit full force. You and John had unexpectedly come across a group of werewolves. One of ‘em had you, almost killed you, but John shot it with a silver bullet just in time…barely. “Where the hell are we?” you asked him while looking out at the open fields.

At that point, we’d been driving for an hour and a half and you hadn’t seen another car for at least an hour. If it hadn’t been a bright, sunny day, you would have been a little creeped out. It was one of the dog-days of summer and it was a hot one at that. “Shit,” he grumbled. He started to slow the truck down to a less bone-rattling speed. “Where’s the map?” “In my bag,” you responded. John sighed heavily. He’d put the bags in the truck bed before they left the motel that morning. He supposed that they’d driven long enough and had gotten lost enough that he could risk stopping for a little while. They were on some dirt road in the middle of nowhere. Nothing but empty fields and trees as far as either of them could see. John drove the truck off the road and under a large tree that had a good shady spot under it. You hopped out of John’s truck and climbed into the bed to get your bag. You kept a file folder in there with county maps of states you were often in. It made getting out of situations, like the one you were in, a little easier. John kept a special box in the bed of the truck that held the camping gear you sometimes needed when you were too far from a motel and John was too tired to drive any longer. You went to the box and grabbed the heavy wool blanket that you would put down in the truck bed at night. You threw it at John, hoping you would hit him in the face with it, but he was too quick and caught it. “Very funny,” he grumbled. You weren’t sure, but you thought maybe he was less irritated? You tossed your bag to the end of the bed when you saw that the cooler was in the bed, too. You gave it a shove with your foot down to the tailgate. John was standing there waiting for you, but he pulled the cooler out first. He put the cooler on the ground where you could step on it, then held up a hand for you to get down out of the truck. You took his hand and just as you put your foot on the cooler to step down, you felt it roll and you went with it tumbling into John’s arms. He caught you easily and set you on your feet, but he didn’t let you go right away. You were hoping he’d kiss you but he couldn’t even look at you. He just cleared his throat and took the cooler with the blanket up to the tree leaving you to grab your bag and join him. Your frustration with him was mounting and when you were frustrated, you liked to tease him. Maybe not right away, but you’d find a way to get him, you always did. He was spreading out the blanket when you reached him. When you got it situated, you both sat down on it. The air was mostly still with the occasional breeze touching you. It had been a long day and you were hoping that you and John could have a nice night together out in the middle of nowhere. You just wanted a little time to breathe, time to just be. He was so nice to be around when he relaxed. Those were the times you liked best, he would talk to you. Of course, John wanted to get moving again, always looking for the next case. “Where’s your bag? Why aren’t you getting your maps out?” he asked. You flung your leather jacket off. It was the dog days of summer and hot as hell, but John demanded you dress like a hunter and hunters wore leather jackets to protect themselves. “Because I’m hot, goddamnit. I’m tired, I’m hungry and I feel like I have monster all over me,” you told him looking yourself over. “I need to feel human again.” “Alright, Jesus, but you need to find this road…it’s like Bob’s Road,” he said. You stared at him. Did he actually make a joke? You couldn’t help it, it was such a rare occasion you had to laugh. He flashed you that grin of his that you didn’t get to see enough of and you relaxed a little. John dug into the cooler and hauled out a largish sub sandwich you’d found at a grocery store and started getting a little meal going for you both. John had teased you for buying groceries before because he thought it was a waste of time and money, but it had come in handy more than once so he quit giving you a hard time about it. He figured out quickly that keeping you happy, meant he was happy. While he was getting the food out, you decided you would take advantage of his current good mood and get a little payback for not kissing you. Giving him a view of what he was missing seemed like just the thing to do. You were positively melting in the jeans and boots you were wearing. You’d already kicked off your boots, so you decided to embarrass him and be comfortable at the same time. You took off your jeans leaving you in only your tank top and underwear. “Jesus, (Y|N)!” you’d shocked him, again. “Why do you do that?!” Nine months of being in extremely close quarters. Nine months of very little left to the imagination. You had no idea how much older than you he was, but it certainly wasn’t the first bare legs he’d ever seen, not even the first time he’d seen yours. You grabbed your gym shorts out of your bag and slipped them on. “To make you blush,” you said giggling. “You gotta quit doing that,” he said exasperated. “Why would I do that? I’d just find another way to make you blush,” you reasoned. “The devil you know…” John would not be defeated. “Maybe I could just take you back to your bar.” John had met (Y|N) at her bar about nine months ago. She’d agreed to go with him for some reason… That was the one and only thing she never spoke about. “You wouldn’t do that. You’d miss me too much and you know it,” you grinned. “You’d be so bored.” John sighed hard. He knew she was right. He would miss her. If there was one thing she did, it was keep him on his toes. He really did like her a lot, despite the constant barrage of embarrassing moments, flirting, and stealing for which she was entirely responsible. “You have any cell service?” he asked. You looked at your phone and there wasn’t a bit of service to be had. “Nope,” you said. Even if there had been, you probably wouldn’t have said anything, John handed you half of his sub sandwich and one of the chips bags you’d bought at the last gas station. You two ate your small meal in relative quiet. The only thing that broke the silence was the birds chirping. You liked the quiet, and you suspected John appreciated your silence. It was later in the day than you thought. The sun was starting to set already. The sky was starting to turn shades of orange. The spot John had picked to pull over was really quite pretty.

John had finished his dinner and gotten up to watch the sunset. He stood there with his hands in his pockets. It made you wonder if your little stunt had really offended him that much. You gathered up the trash and stuffed it into an empty grocery bag. You went to John and looked up at him. The sunset was casting a yellow orange glow to his skin. God he’s so handsome, you thought. You kept telling yourself it was just a crush and that the things you felt for this man weren’t real, they were just childish feelings and you were projecting your daddy issues on him. You kept telling yourself that, but it’d been months now and the feelings hadn’t left, they’d just gotten deeper. He just stood there with his hands in his pockets appreciating the beauty of the sunset. You put your arm between his arm and his side, forcing him to put his arm around your shoulders while yours went around his waist. He looked down at you and saw you smiling up at him. “What are you smiling at?” he asked. “A handsome man,” you said moving more to his side so you could see the sunset, too. You took a deep breath and sighed, “It really is beautiful.” He was still looking at you, “Definitely beautiful,” he said and turned back to the sunset. “You want to camp here, don’t you?” “Would you mind too much? It’s so pretty, John,” you said. “We better hurry up if we don’t wanna loose the light,” he said and broke away from you. You watched his tall frame walk away from you and go to the truck bed. He hauled out his tent and gear and took it up under the tree. You sighed heavily again. You trotted up the hill to gather the wool blanket and start getting the truck bed ready for your air mattress and bed tent. You gave the sunset one last look and told yourself that you’d tell John how you felt about him and soon.

#holy shit jamie hit 1k #fanfic #spn #john winchester #reader insert #john x reader #fan fiction #kazosa

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pressurewashersconnect · 6 years ago

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