The morning light penetrated through the washed-out red curtains, cutting out several narrow strips of light on the yellow carpet, with fine dust floating in the light.
The room was mixed with the greasy smell of cheap perfume, the alcoholic smell of bourbon, and the smell of half-burned cigarettes - the smell unique to highway motels, sloppy, hasty, and drifting.
This is the third day since Sam came to East Town.
He stood shirtless by the window, holding a half-empty bottle of bourbon between his fingertips.
The profile of the face is immersed in the intersection of light and dark, the jaw line is as sharp as a knife, and there is not even a trace of unnecessary emotion on the face.
In the past two days, he visited two crime scenes, including Hutch's duty room and Gray's patrol car.
The EMF meter was as flat as if there was no electricity, and there was no reaction at all to the salt grains that were sprinkled, which ruled out evil spirits. There was no smell of sulfur at the scene, and the possibility of demons committing crimes was eliminated. He even scraped the wall to look for runes, but there was not even a scratch, so witches were also ruled out.
The woman wrapped in sheets on the bed stood up, with a flattering smile on her face, and lightly traced the sheets with her fingertips. "Last night was really... enjoyable, if you don't mind me saying so."
Sam turned around and put a few bills on the bedside table. His movements were as neat as paying for a bottle of soda at a convenience store. His tone was so calm that no emotion could be heard. "Very good."
He picked up the black demon hunting jacket and put it on his shoulders, his eyes swept across the room, not staying on the woman for more than half a second.
I just looked for it on the way last night and didn't even bother to remember the name.
The woman was a little embarrassed. She gathered up the sheets and pulled them up. She chased after his back and asked, "Did you say when you were going to leave? Oh, yes, you didn't say that. God, you really know how to play mystery."
Sam zipped up his coat and without raising his head, his fingers had already hooked on the door handle.
"You can come to me next time, when I'm off duty." Seeing that he didn't respond, the woman quickly added, with a bit of cautious flattery in her tone, "If you're willing."
Sam just said a vague "hmm", opened the door and walked to the corridor. The moment he closed the door behind his back, the perfunctory look on his face completely disappeared, replaced by coldness and indifference.
He leaned against the mottled wall in the corridor, not caring about the peeling wall scraping against his back, and first dialed the number Dean.
This matter cannot be done by the Campbell Family alone. Samuel asks ten questions and answers one question, but also hides it.
Dean is different. He is his brother. Although he is living a stable life now, if something really happens, he will definitely come.
The moment the call was connected, his tone immediately changed to a businesslike tone. "Hey, I'm still eight hours away from the Campbell base. Uh, the plan has changed, and I need you to come find me. I'm in Pennsylvania, a town called East."
Dean on the other end of the phone had just picked up the coffee cup, and the beeping sound of the coffee machine could be heard in the background.
Dean frowned upon hearing this. "Why are you going to Pennsylvania?"
"I encountered a case."
"Case?"
"I like to work."
"Why are you calling me? Sam, the matter is over. I don't want to talk about this, what should we do, you do your job, I live my life, that's it." Dean is still struggling, trying to grasp the shaky calm.
"Calm down, this has nothing to do with you and me."
"You are just arguing with yourself. Stop calling me."
Dean hung up the phone, cursed "idiot" in a low voice, stood in front of the coffee machine for a long time, and sighed heavily.
In the fire escape at the end of the corridor, Sam hung up the phone from Dean, and his fingertips scratched the screen, finally stopping on the name "Bai Haorui".
He hesitated for two seconds. Samuel is unreliable.
Bai Haorui is different, he understands souls and restrictions, and more importantly, in the cemetery battle, he pushed them out even though his souls were damaged, and he would not hide it from himself.
I dialed the phone and was picked up after three rings. The deep and hoarse voice of Bai Haorui came over there, with a calmness after meditation, and only one word. "Say."
"Pennsylvania East Town, there were three police deaths. The deaths were due to melting of body fluids and abscesses all over the body. One of them died before there was time to verify it. It's like Egypt. The path of the ten plagues." Sam spoke very quickly and went straight to the topic, "I checked the two scenes. There were no traces of witch spells and no smell of demonic sulfur. EMF did not respond."
There was silence for two seconds on the other end of the phone. Bai Haorui's voice was a little dignified, but very steady. "Don't worry, I'll be there soon."
"No need to notify Samuel." Sam added.
"I know."
After hanging up the phone, Sam put the phone back into his pocket and looked up at the rising sun outside the window.
The sun was dazzling, and he squinted his eyes, but there was no warmth in his eyes.
He didn't tell Bai Haorui that he was focused on this case partly because the case was weird, and partly because Campbell's intelligence network showed that Heaven weapons were circulating in this area - if he could get the sacred object, he would have one more bargaining chip to trace the truth about his resurrection. As for the number of dead policemen, in his heart, it was far less important than the truth.
The sunshine in the kitchen is warm, the toaster jumps to life with a "ding" sound, and the aroma of wheat fills the room.
There are two glasses of orange juice on the table, with bubbles slowly rising along the sides of the glasses.
The lawn outside the window had just been mowed, and the fragrance of green grass drifted in through the half-open window. Ben's baseball glove was thrown on the steps, with one glove turned over like a puppy with droopy ears.
This is the most common and fragile morning in ordinary people's homes.
Dean was woken up by the sound of the coffee machine. When he woke up, he turned sideways and looked at Lisa. She was still asleep and breathing very lightly.
He quietly got up and walked barefoot to the door of the children's room. Ben was sleeping with his arms and legs spread out on the dinosaur doll, his saliva rubbing on the pillow.
He stood for two minutes, feeling so soft in his heart - this was a life he had never dared to imagine before, with a house, people waiting for him, and children making noises.
When he went to the kitchen after washing, Lisa was already baking bread.
Lisa leaned against the door frame and looked at him. He was wearing loose home clothes, his hair was a little messy, and his eyes had a clear "I knew it" look in his eyes.
Dean turned around, with a forced smile on his face, and rubbed the seam of his trousers with his fingertips - he just took advantage of Lisa not waking up, secretly dragged out the iron box under the bed, and took the hunting knife, salt The bullets and holy water were all stuffed into the duffel bag. The box was covered with dust, and the smell of dust hit his face when he opened it. The handle of the silver dagger was worn. It was given to him by Sam on his eighteenth birthday, and he touched it for a long time.
"I have to go, something happened."
Lisa nodded, his tone as calm as if he had known this day would come. "I know. Just be careful."
Dean walked over and hugged her, feeling tightness in his chest. The feeling of home that he had finally managed to create, including the hot coffee, the lawn mower, and the noise of the children, were all receding at the moment, like the ebbing sea water, which could not be grasped.
He walked to the dining room to say goodbye to Ben. The boy was lying on the table eating cereal with his mouth full. He was still bragging to his classmates on the phone, saying that he would take responsibility for breaking the teacher's vase and would never tell his parents.
Dean rubbed his hair, the soft tips of his hair brushed against his palm, and he felt sour in his heart.
"Uncle Dean, are you going out again?" Ben hung up the phone and looked up at him.
"Well, I'll be back soon." Dean twitched the corner of his mouth, knowing that he had no confidence in what he said.
He picked up the duffel bag he had packed earlier and went out, getting into the old Impala.
The engine roared to life, and he stared at the house in the rearview mirror for two seconds. The house was quiet, and the morning light shone on the roof, making it as warm as a painting.
Finally, I turned the steering wheel and drove onto the highway.
Half an hour after the car drove out, the phone in Dean's pocket vibrated. It was a text message from an unknown number, with only four words: "I'm going too."
It's Bai Haorui.
Dean The corners of his mouth tightened, and the hanging stone in his heart dropped a little.
Bai Haorui never talks nonsense. When he talks, it shows that this matter is really difficult. He said "OK" with his fingertips and stepped on the accelerator a little harder.
He knew in his heart that as long as Bai Haorui was there, at least there would be someone on Sam's side who could restrain him.
Sam has changed so much this year, sometimes Dean feels strange when looking at him - he talks less, his face becomes colder, and he acts more and more cruelly, as if he has no heart. Only Bai Haorui can see through that cold and hard shell and know what is wrong inside.
The air-conditioning of formalin penetrated the nasal cavity with the smell of blood, and the stainless steel of the morgue glowed with cold light and felt bitingly cold to the touch.
The fluorescent lights on the ceiling were buzzing, making the corpse's skin glow greenish-grey. The whole room was immersed in deathly silence, and even the sound of breathing seemed unnecessary.
Dean East Town and Sam arrived at noon and were waiting for him at the entrance of the town. The two of them went directly to the morgue without much greeting.
On the way, Sam explained the case to him: the first person to die was Hutch, who was working the night shift three days ago, and was found by someone who changed the shift in the morning. He was melted into the duty chair, Bones was all gone, leaving only a pool of blood mixed with torn clothes; the second one was Gray, who died in the patrol car last night. The car was locked from the inside, like a secret room. His whole body was covered with pustules, his respiratory tract was blocked, and he died of suffocation.
"What did the forensic doctor say?" Dean asked at that time.
"He said he has never seen such a way of death." Sam held a cigarette in his mouth and looked at the road, "It's not chemical corrosion, nor is it a biological virus."
Standing next to the morgue, Dean lifted the cover and felt the smell of blood mixed with formalin. He took half a step back.
The corpse almost turned into translucent blood, staining the shroud red, and the outline was blurred. "Wow, did this guy over-hydrate? It basically... melted."
Sam stood nearby flipping through the file, the paper was clattering, his fingertips ran across the page, his expression was as calm as if he was looking at a shopping list. "Officer Gerald Hutch, seventeen years of police service, died in the duty room three days ago. Most of the muscles, bones, and dense tissues have turned into blood. Forensic medical records show that the degree of tissue dissolution is equivalent to corrosion by strong acid, but the pH value is neutral, which is illogical."
"Okay, I understand." Dean straightened up and spread his hands, "But since everyone has turned into a puddle, why are we coming to the morgue? Is there anything good to see? There are no flowers at all."
"I didn't come to see him."
Sam As soon as he finished speaking, the door of the morgue was pushed open, and two medical staff pushed another corpse in. The wheels ran over the cement floor, making a harsh thumping sound.
Sam raised his chin. "Bad news, Officer Toby Gray just came here. He died in a patrol car at a speed check point outside the town. A passerby called the police, saying he had a severe allergic reaction."
Dean leaned over and took a look, instantly getting goosebumps all over his body.
The corpse was covered with dense pustules. There was no good spot from the scalp to the feet. Yellow-white pus seeped down the skin. Even the eyelids were covered with yellow water. "Boils all over the body?"
"It's the same inside. The preliminary autopsy report said that the respiratory tract was blocked and full of pus." Sam crossed his arms and looked at him sideways, "Is it starting to feel like witchcraft?"
"My first reaction was the same, but I walked around Hutch's duty room three times in the morning, and I couldn't find any traces of spells, and the salt didn't react either." Dean shook his head, "As far as I can tell, it has nothing to do with the witch. There must be a connection between these two guys, and they didn't run away. Are they on the same shift?"
"Yes, they are all from the patrol team." Sam nodded, "There are witnesses. Officer Ed·Colfax, Hutch's partner, saw Hutch die with his own eyes. I contacted their captain and said he would come over today to identify the body."
While the two were talking, there was a sound of obstruction from the nurse on duty outside, and then the door was knocked open, and a pale man staggered in. His steps were frivolous, as if he were stepping on cotton. He was none other than Colfax. The collar of his uniform was open, two buttons were broken, and there was cold sweat on his forehead, dripping down his cheeks. His eyes were unfocused, and his whole body was shaking slightly.
Dean immediately took out the fake police badge and greeted him, "Hello, Officer Colfax? I am a federal agent..."