Cold Walkers
Chapter 06: 52 Pickup
Mid-afternoon at a nearby restaurant and pub, Kimberly, Quinn, the Winchesters, and several players from the Lightning sat crowded around two tables pushed together. Dean was recounting a story about a wild night with two strippers, creating a general uproar of laughter that exasperated the few other patrons in the room. After the day’s events, the group welcomed the comic relief—the other customers would just have to tolerate it.
“Of course,” he was saying, taking a swig of his beer, “Turns out both of them were—” He exchanged a glance with Sam. “Well, they were ‘bloodsuckers’ if you know what I’m saying. I got the hell out of there in the morning once I woke up and found them trying to steal my stuff. Strippers, man. You gotta watch them. They can hide a surprising amount of cash away in those string bikinis.”
After the laughter died down, Malone swirled the remaining beer around in his bottle and said, “So I have a question. Before we left you guys stowed your guns in your trunk, and I looked in and noticed it was loaded with weapons. Do Homeland Security agents typically carry an armory in the back of their classic cars?”
“Well,” Dean replied, exchanging a glance with his brother, “We’re from a… unique branch of HS.”
“We’re more ‘hands on’ than the others,” Sam added. “We can’t tell you much more than that. Job restriction.”
Quinn rolled her eyes and waved the waitress down to ask for another glass of Guinness. Kimberly sat between her and Steven Stamkos, staring absently at her bottle of barely-touched Shock Top. The day’s events ran through her head over and over, and she felt a bit sick to her stomach at the thought of all the people that had gotten hurt so far. Despite the years of hunting with Quinn, sometimes it still caught up to her—particularly when it concerned people she knew or cared about.
“Hey.” The male voice pulled her out of her reverie and she looked up to see Steven studying her. “You doing okay?”
She attempted a smile. “Yeah. It’s just all a bit heavy on my mind. The people hurt so far, your teammates hurt so far…” Shrugging tiredly, she clasped her hands together on the table. “Just when you think you’re used to dealing with difficult issues in our line of work, something big like this happens.”
“I can imagine,” he replied sympathetically. Then, he nudged her playfully with his shoulder and offered a cheery smile. “But it’s okay. They’ll get through it! Especially if we have such dedicated people like you working on it.”
Kimberly smiled back before looking down at her beer shyly. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, Kimmy!” he exclaimed. Malone caught his attention with a question just in time for him to miss the pink flush appear on her face. Quinn, however, did not, and she kicked Kimberly under the table and shot her a sneaky grin. Kimberly stuck her tongue out at her partner quickly before taking a long sip of the Shock Top.
“So, Dean,” Sam said suddenly, “Quinn was telling me she dug up something interesting when she and Kimmy were first looking us up when we met.”
“You looked us up?” Dean said, raising his eyebrows. “Afraid we’d be convicts or something? I’m offended.”
“Oh please,” Quinn said dismissively. “As if we’d go to work with you guys if we didn’t know anything about you. You might not have actually been… Homeland Security, so we had to be sure. Anyway…” She shared a knowing smile with Sam. “I found something surprising about you from your high school years, darling Dean.”
The smile on Dean’s face suddenly grew tight, and the hockey players around the table eyed the typically smug Winchester with interest. “Yeah? What’s that? Me being elected prom king because of my dashing features?”
Sam rolled his eyes as Quinn continued, “No, no, we actually found an old newspaper clipping of a high school male cheerleading team.” Dean’s confident composure quickly began to crack. “You were captain of the squad, turns out. I’ll bet everyone was so proud. I don’t recall you being as flexible when you and I were together.”
An “ooh” coursed through everyone crowded around the table and Malone chuckled as Dean set his jaw firmly. Vincent, sitting across from Quinn, glanced between the girl and the handsomer Winchester and felt an odd twinge of jealousy.
“Well you know, hon, chasing law-breakers really cuts into other hobbies. I haven’t been able to stay in practice,” Dean replied coolly, sitting back in his chair.
“Practice with cheerleading or practice in bed?” She inquired. “Because I’d say you’re lacking in both.”
Laughter erupted from all sides of the table, much to Dean’s annoyance. Even Sam took the time to chug down his beer to hide the grin on his face. Kimberly fistbumped Quinn as the younger Winchester’s cellphone went off and he left the table to answer it, trying not to laugh as he answered the call. “Hello?”
“Agent Ted?” A female voice was on the other line. “This is Officer Regina, from the Tampa Police Department. Your coworker Bill gave us your numbers in case we needed to call about new developments.”
“Right, right,” Sam replied, his humor ebbing and a more serious tone taking its place. “So did you find out anything about the strange attacks?”
“Well, no,” she admitted slowly. “But something has… happened.”
‘Happened?”
Back at the table, Malone and Pyatt were arguing over who had a higher alcohol tolerance, though Crombeen, beside them, insisted they probably shouldn’t test their theories in the middle of the afternoon. Quinn made a generic “it’s five o’clock somewhere” comment as Sam returned to the table, his face grim.
“What is it?” Dean asked, his own cheery expression faltering slightly.
“That was one of the officers stationed at the hospital,” he replied, not bothering to sit down. “They’ve had some slight trouble.”
“Slight?” Kimberly repeated, raising her eyebrows. “Define slight, Sam.”
“The quarantined patients suddenly attacked everyone and everything around them all at once,” the Winchester replied. “They escaped.”
“Escaped?” Lecavalier frowned. “You mean… they all combined forces and broke out of the hospital?”
“Zombies are too mindless for that though, aren’t they?” Crombeen mused.
“Well, we did say it wasn’t exactly zombies,” Quinn said, tossing back the last of her Guinness and standing. “I think we should go.”
“Yep, party time’s over, hot stuffs,” Dean agreed. “We got work to do.”
“We’ll come with you,” Lecavalier offered as Quinn laid down the money for her drinks on the table.
She smiled in reply, but shook her head. “Thanks, Vinny, but this might be really dangerous and we can’t risk you guys getting in the way or getting hurt.”
“What if you get hurt?” he asked. “You guys aren’t bite-proof.”
“I know, but it’s our job,” Quinn said, hesitating before touching his hand briefly and squeezing it. “We’ll be fine, we do this all the time.”
“Be careful,” Steven offered as Kimberly stood, shouldering her bag. “Let us know if you do need our help.”
“Thank you,” Kimberly replied, fishing around in her wallet for money. “I think we’ll be okay.”
Steven noticed her digging for cash and waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll get it.”
She blinked, startled. “No, no you don’t have to. It’s just a few drinks.”
“Kimmy!” Dean called, already halfway out the door. “Quit makin’ eyes at the hockey boys and let’s go!”
Kimberly flushed indignantly as Steven chuckled. “It’s fine,” he said. “I don’t mind! Hurry up before you miss your ride to the action.”
“Thank you,” she replied, and gave him a smile before running out to catch up with the brothers and her partner. Back at the tables, Malone, Pyatt, and Crombeen raised their eyebrows and smirked knowingly at Vincent and Steven.
“What?” Vincent said, sitting back in his chair.
“It’s like watching a romantic comedy with my girlfriend,” Malone said, pretending to gag. “You’re both practically making kissy faces at them.”
“Oh shut up.”
The hunters climbed out of the Impala and stared at the hospital, eyes wide and hearts sinking. The glass automatic front doors were shattered and broken, evidence of the zombie mob’s struggle to escape. Several windows were broken open, side doors were wrenched open, and even the fence leading to a storage area was beaten down and broken. EMTs and other medical practitioners were scattered about, providing aid to visitors and their own coworkers.
“This looks bad,” Kimberly muttered. “They’re loose all over again, spreading whatever vodou disease is controlling them.”
“It’s like playing 52 Pickup,” Dean replied, grimacing. “We gotta go find them and round them up all over again.”
“If that’s even possible,” Sam added. “It seems like they’re getting stronger and more focused on whatever mission they have. We may not be able to find them all before they’ve infected so many that it’s too late.”
“Cheery outlooks, guys,” Quinn said, crossing her arms. “So what do we do first?”
“We really need some answers,” her partner replied. “I’m pretty certain it’s Haitian vodou that’s involved. With such strategic escape planning from people so ‘mindless,’ they’ve got be controlled by someone. But I don’t know much more than what I’ve told you guys. In particular, I don’t know how to stop it.”
“So, you have nothing useful,” Dean surmised.
“If you’re going to be rude about it, yeah.”
Kimberly asked Sam to see their dad’s journal, to dig for more information possibly hidden somewhere they hadn’t looked, just as a clunky, beaten-up Volvo pulled up beside the hospital and a chubby black woman stepped out, wearing a patterned blue dress made of thin, wispy cloth. She stared at the disastrous circumstances surrounding the hospital, passing a hand over her neat cornrowed hair and muttering mournfully in a strange French tongue. She turned, looking for an explanation, when she spotted the young adults poring over their research.
“Excuse me,” she said, her voice heavily accented. “Can you tell me what happened here?”
Kimberly looked up and handed the book back to Sam. “The patients who were suffering from that… ‘zombie’ attack all worked together and overran the employees. They escaped and, I guess, scattered.”
“Merde,” she said, the harsh curse sounding odd coming from the lips of such a kind-looking woman. “I am worried. I do not think this is a disease like the news reports say.”
“You don’t?” Kimberly eyed the woman’s clothing and mulled over her accent briefly before asking, “Excuse me, I hope you don’t mind my asking, but are you Haitian by any chance?”
“I am,” the woman replied, surprised. “How did you guess?”
“Funny circumstances,” she replied simply. “What do you think is really going on here, if not a disease?”
By now Quinn and the Winchesters were paying attention rather closely, having heard “Haitian” come up in the conversation. The woman sighed, adjusting her dress skirts anxiously. “I believe it is caused by the magic practices of one from my homeland.”
“Vodou?” Kimberly asked. The woman nodded. “We think the same thing.”
“You do?” She put a hand over her heart and sighed. “I am glad. If more people believe this, they will perhaps work toward a solution outside of their modern medical practices.”
“Ma’am,” Dean said, coming forward, “Would you mind answering a few questions for us? You see, we’re here to try and stop what’s going on. To put down these zombies.”
The woman bobbed her head up and down. “If you will help, I will tell you what I can. My name is Sauda. I am a Mambo, a priestess of the Haitian vodou, and I believe this tragedy is being brought down upon us by one of my brothers in the art.”
“Of course,” he was saying, taking a swig of his beer, “Turns out both of them were—” He exchanged a glance with Sam. “Well, they were ‘bloodsuckers’ if you know what I’m saying. I got the hell out of there in the morning once I woke up and found them trying to steal my stuff. Strippers, man. You gotta watch them. They can hide a surprising amount of cash away in those string bikinis.”
After the laughter died down, Malone swirled the remaining beer around in his bottle and said, “So I have a question. Before we left you guys stowed your guns in your trunk, and I looked in and noticed it was loaded with weapons. Do Homeland Security agents typically carry an armory in the back of their classic cars?”
“Well,” Dean replied, exchanging a glance with his brother, “We’re from a… unique branch of HS.”
“We’re more ‘hands on’ than the others,” Sam added. “We can’t tell you much more than that. Job restriction.”
Quinn rolled her eyes and waved the waitress down to ask for another glass of Guinness. Kimberly sat between her and Steven Stamkos, staring absently at her bottle of barely-touched Shock Top. The day’s events ran through her head over and over, and she felt a bit sick to her stomach at the thought of all the people that had gotten hurt so far. Despite the years of hunting with Quinn, sometimes it still caught up to her—particularly when it concerned people she knew or cared about.
“Hey.” The male voice pulled her out of her reverie and she looked up to see Steven studying her. “You doing okay?”
She attempted a smile. “Yeah. It’s just all a bit heavy on my mind. The people hurt so far, your teammates hurt so far…” Shrugging tiredly, she clasped her hands together on the table. “Just when you think you’re used to dealing with difficult issues in our line of work, something big like this happens.”
“I can imagine,” he replied sympathetically. Then, he nudged her playfully with his shoulder and offered a cheery smile. “But it’s okay. They’ll get through it! Especially if we have such dedicated people like you working on it.”
Kimberly smiled back before looking down at her beer shyly. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, Kimmy!” he exclaimed. Malone caught his attention with a question just in time for him to miss the pink flush appear on her face. Quinn, however, did not, and she kicked Kimberly under the table and shot her a sneaky grin. Kimberly stuck her tongue out at her partner quickly before taking a long sip of the Shock Top.
“So, Dean,” Sam said suddenly, “Quinn was telling me she dug up something interesting when she and Kimmy were first looking us up when we met.”
“You looked us up?” Dean said, raising his eyebrows. “Afraid we’d be convicts or something? I’m offended.”
“Oh please,” Quinn said dismissively. “As if we’d go to work with you guys if we didn’t know anything about you. You might not have actually been… Homeland Security, so we had to be sure. Anyway…” She shared a knowing smile with Sam. “I found something surprising about you from your high school years, darling Dean.”
The smile on Dean’s face suddenly grew tight, and the hockey players around the table eyed the typically smug Winchester with interest. “Yeah? What’s that? Me being elected prom king because of my dashing features?”
Sam rolled his eyes as Quinn continued, “No, no, we actually found an old newspaper clipping of a high school male cheerleading team.” Dean’s confident composure quickly began to crack. “You were captain of the squad, turns out. I’ll bet everyone was so proud. I don’t recall you being as flexible when you and I were together.”
An “ooh” coursed through everyone crowded around the table and Malone chuckled as Dean set his jaw firmly. Vincent, sitting across from Quinn, glanced between the girl and the handsomer Winchester and felt an odd twinge of jealousy.
“Well you know, hon, chasing law-breakers really cuts into other hobbies. I haven’t been able to stay in practice,” Dean replied coolly, sitting back in his chair.
“Practice with cheerleading or practice in bed?” She inquired. “Because I’d say you’re lacking in both.”
Laughter erupted from all sides of the table, much to Dean’s annoyance. Even Sam took the time to chug down his beer to hide the grin on his face. Kimberly fistbumped Quinn as the younger Winchester’s cellphone went off and he left the table to answer it, trying not to laugh as he answered the call. “Hello?”
“Agent Ted?” A female voice was on the other line. “This is Officer Regina, from the Tampa Police Department. Your coworker Bill gave us your numbers in case we needed to call about new developments.”
“Right, right,” Sam replied, his humor ebbing and a more serious tone taking its place. “So did you find out anything about the strange attacks?”
“Well, no,” she admitted slowly. “But something has… happened.”
‘Happened?”
Back at the table, Malone and Pyatt were arguing over who had a higher alcohol tolerance, though Crombeen, beside them, insisted they probably shouldn’t test their theories in the middle of the afternoon. Quinn made a generic “it’s five o’clock somewhere” comment as Sam returned to the table, his face grim.
“What is it?” Dean asked, his own cheery expression faltering slightly.
“That was one of the officers stationed at the hospital,” he replied, not bothering to sit down. “They’ve had some slight trouble.”
“Slight?” Kimberly repeated, raising her eyebrows. “Define slight, Sam.”
“The quarantined patients suddenly attacked everyone and everything around them all at once,” the Winchester replied. “They escaped.”
“Escaped?” Lecavalier frowned. “You mean… they all combined forces and broke out of the hospital?”
“Zombies are too mindless for that though, aren’t they?” Crombeen mused.
“Well, we did say it wasn’t exactly zombies,” Quinn said, tossing back the last of her Guinness and standing. “I think we should go.”
“Yep, party time’s over, hot stuffs,” Dean agreed. “We got work to do.”
“We’ll come with you,” Lecavalier offered as Quinn laid down the money for her drinks on the table.
She smiled in reply, but shook her head. “Thanks, Vinny, but this might be really dangerous and we can’t risk you guys getting in the way or getting hurt.”
“What if you get hurt?” he asked. “You guys aren’t bite-proof.”
“I know, but it’s our job,” Quinn said, hesitating before touching his hand briefly and squeezing it. “We’ll be fine, we do this all the time.”
“Be careful,” Steven offered as Kimberly stood, shouldering her bag. “Let us know if you do need our help.”
“Thank you,” Kimberly replied, fishing around in her wallet for money. “I think we’ll be okay.”
Steven noticed her digging for cash and waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll get it.”
She blinked, startled. “No, no you don’t have to. It’s just a few drinks.”
“Kimmy!” Dean called, already halfway out the door. “Quit makin’ eyes at the hockey boys and let’s go!”
Kimberly flushed indignantly as Steven chuckled. “It’s fine,” he said. “I don’t mind! Hurry up before you miss your ride to the action.”
“Thank you,” she replied, and gave him a smile before running out to catch up with the brothers and her partner. Back at the tables, Malone, Pyatt, and Crombeen raised their eyebrows and smirked knowingly at Vincent and Steven.
“What?” Vincent said, sitting back in his chair.
“It’s like watching a romantic comedy with my girlfriend,” Malone said, pretending to gag. “You’re both practically making kissy faces at them.”
“Oh shut up.”
The hunters climbed out of the Impala and stared at the hospital, eyes wide and hearts sinking. The glass automatic front doors were shattered and broken, evidence of the zombie mob’s struggle to escape. Several windows were broken open, side doors were wrenched open, and even the fence leading to a storage area was beaten down and broken. EMTs and other medical practitioners were scattered about, providing aid to visitors and their own coworkers.
“This looks bad,” Kimberly muttered. “They’re loose all over again, spreading whatever vodou disease is controlling them.”
“It’s like playing 52 Pickup,” Dean replied, grimacing. “We gotta go find them and round them up all over again.”
“If that’s even possible,” Sam added. “It seems like they’re getting stronger and more focused on whatever mission they have. We may not be able to find them all before they’ve infected so many that it’s too late.”
“Cheery outlooks, guys,” Quinn said, crossing her arms. “So what do we do first?”
“We really need some answers,” her partner replied. “I’m pretty certain it’s Haitian vodou that’s involved. With such strategic escape planning from people so ‘mindless,’ they’ve got be controlled by someone. But I don’t know much more than what I’ve told you guys. In particular, I don’t know how to stop it.”
“So, you have nothing useful,” Dean surmised.
“If you’re going to be rude about it, yeah.”
Kimberly asked Sam to see their dad’s journal, to dig for more information possibly hidden somewhere they hadn’t looked, just as a clunky, beaten-up Volvo pulled up beside the hospital and a chubby black woman stepped out, wearing a patterned blue dress made of thin, wispy cloth. She stared at the disastrous circumstances surrounding the hospital, passing a hand over her neat cornrowed hair and muttering mournfully in a strange French tongue. She turned, looking for an explanation, when she spotted the young adults poring over their research.
“Excuse me,” she said, her voice heavily accented. “Can you tell me what happened here?”
Kimberly looked up and handed the book back to Sam. “The patients who were suffering from that… ‘zombie’ attack all worked together and overran the employees. They escaped and, I guess, scattered.”
“Merde,” she said, the harsh curse sounding odd coming from the lips of such a kind-looking woman. “I am worried. I do not think this is a disease like the news reports say.”
“You don’t?” Kimberly eyed the woman’s clothing and mulled over her accent briefly before asking, “Excuse me, I hope you don’t mind my asking, but are you Haitian by any chance?”
“I am,” the woman replied, surprised. “How did you guess?”
“Funny circumstances,” she replied simply. “What do you think is really going on here, if not a disease?”
By now Quinn and the Winchesters were paying attention rather closely, having heard “Haitian” come up in the conversation. The woman sighed, adjusting her dress skirts anxiously. “I believe it is caused by the magic practices of one from my homeland.”
“Vodou?” Kimberly asked. The woman nodded. “We think the same thing.”
“You do?” She put a hand over her heart and sighed. “I am glad. If more people believe this, they will perhaps work toward a solution outside of their modern medical practices.”
“Ma’am,” Dean said, coming forward, “Would you mind answering a few questions for us? You see, we’re here to try and stop what’s going on. To put down these zombies.”
The woman bobbed her head up and down. “If you will help, I will tell you what I can. My name is Sauda. I am a Mambo, a priestess of the Haitian vodou, and I believe this tragedy is being brought down upon us by one of my brothers in the art.”
@CanadaHockey Can't*
12/30/13