SPN X Stand By Me - Chapter Six Excerpt
We continued along the tracks for another hour until the setting sun transformed the once-familiar landscape into a dark and eerie unknown. As the initial thrill of adventure waned, it was quickly replaced by the stark realization of our considerable distance from home. Long, ominous shadows stretched out before us, heightening our awareness of every rustling leaf and distant howl within a one-mile radius. When the rumbling of our stomachs became impossible to ignore, we collectively acknowledged it was time to find a camping spot and build a fire.
Armed with a six-inch hunting knife, a mastery of intricate knot tying, and first aid skills, Dean was the obvious choice as an unofficial leader of our gang. Having been rigorously involved in scouting before his mom died, we all figured he was our best bet for picking a safe place to camp overnight. No one questioned him or added any snark; everyone just threw down their packs where Dean had said and got to work looking for leaves, twigs, and things that could be used for kindling.
Once Dean got the fire going, we all plopped down around it in a semicircle as I began unpacking the food. We each got one hot dog, a somewhat dented can of Tab soda, and two slices of Wonder bread. Despite the modest fare, it served as a feast fit for kings, deepening the camaraderie among us at the end of a long day. Using branches snapped from nearby trees, we took turns using Dean's knife to sharpen the ends. After violently stabbing our hot dogs onto these makeshift skewers above the fire, a brief moment of calm passed between us as the smell of sizzling pork permeated the air.
“Man, that was a close fucking call!” Gabe said, hypnotized by exhaustion as he gazed into the flickering campfire.
“Yeah, seriously.” Charlie agreed in an uncharacteristically subdued tone.
Allowing my mind to wander, I temporarily revisited the train incident from earlier on that day. Glancing over at Dean, I noticed him reclined against his pack, seemingly relaxed with both arms tucked behind his head. It was hard to ignore how close we’d come to death and each other in the same afternoon. Instead, the instant replay inside my brain felt detached, as though I were watching some distant event playing out on a movie screen.
“Hey, Gabe, turn yours over,” Dean said abruptly, cutting through the evening stillness.
“No way, man, I like ‘em, extra crispy,” Gabe said with a defiant grin.
Only to lose his dinner moments later when it lost structural integrity and fell unceremoniously into the ravenous flames below.
“Ah, shit! You got any more hotdogs, Cas?” Gabe groaned.
“Nope, sorry,” I said earnestly with a small shrug.
Unable to restrain herself, Charlie erupted into laughter, hugging her petite frame as she rolled across the ground. She resonated pure delight, albeit at Gabe's sudden misfortune, until she had rendered herself coughing and out of breath.
"Hey! It’s not funny. What the hell am I supposed to eat?" Gabe protested, growing visibly frustrated.
“I mean, you could cook your dick?” Dean suggested, trying to keep a straight face without succumbing to his own laughter.
"That would be a small meal!" Charlie chimed in.
Leaning in closer to dig through the charcoaled cinders, I half worried Gabe might lose his balance and tumble face-first into the flames. My relief was palpable when he abruptly withdrew, having successfully salvaged his former hot dog.
“Aha! Screw you guys! I got it!” Gabe shouted.
He hoisted his blackened skewer triumphantly above his head, then proceeded to rip it apart with his teeth like some kind of crazed wild animal. Then he gobbled down his meal as fast as possible, clearly trying to avoid tasting it. We all watched in faux horror as he ate, our eyes wide with judgemental enthusiasm.
“What?” Gabe asked, looking up confused.
When we had finished our meal, Dean revealed the pack of cigarettes he’d stolen from his dad. Wetting my lips with the tip of my tongue, I reluctantly accepted one so as not to appear uncool. Flicking his lighter to life with only one hand, Dean ignored our friends and reached in close to ignite mine first. As I Inhaled deeply with a hint of seduction, we maintained eye contact long enough to mask our combined uncertainty beneath a shared façade of teenage bravado.
“Nothing like a smoke after a meal,” Gabe announced, effectively breaking the brief but intense connection between Dean and me.
“Fuck yeah, I’ll forever cherish these moments, boys.’ Charlie said snarkily.
“Hey Cas, why don't you tell us a story?” Dean asked innocently.
While knowing full well how impossible it would be for me to turn down such an offer, especially if it was coming from him.
“Oh, um, I dunno,” I said, trying to temper my prevalent anxiety.
“Come on, Cas, pretty please?” Dean asked in a sing-song voice.
Batting his ridiculously long eyelashes in my general direction, Dean curled his lips into a pouty frown as he spoke. Although I seriously considered punching him for a moment, when he added a smile and his signature wink, I knew I was done for.
“Why don't you tell us one about the Ladies of Moondore and their legion of fire-breathing Dragons?” Charlie asked.
“Well, uh, actually... The one I’ve been working on lately is a little bit different.” I said, waiting for my friends to settle before continuing to speak.
“It’s about the Harrison Family, these two brothers, who travel around the country in a 1967 Chevy Impala, fighting monsters with their dad.”
"Wait, hold up, monster hunters who drive around in some shitty old car?" Gabe asked, his skepticism evident with an arched eyebrow and dubious smirk.
"Shut up, Gabe, that car is a classic!" Dean asserted with the confidence of an expert.
“Anyway! Simon Harrison is the younger brother, and he’s our age, but he has these crazy psychic superpowers. He has these visions about the future, except it's usually really bad stuff- like decapitated bodies and violent, murderous creatures that possess your body and then use it to commit unspeakable horrors like some sort of human puppet!”
“Oh hey, my cousin tried to convince me she was psychic once. She memorized the entire freaking encyclopedia and then pretended to know everything- The joke was on her, though, because she’d only gotten as far as volume A-F, so when I asked her about Galopogus Island, she had no fucking clue what to even say.” Gabe said, rolling his eyes.
“Shut up, Gabe!” Charlie said, punching him twice in the shoulder.
"Ow!" Gabe shouted, turning around to face Charlie with raised fists.
"Could you guys please try to keep it together for once?" Dean demanded sternly, unexpectedly adopting a grown-up tone.
Feeling immediately validated, Charlie stuck out her tongue, prompting Gabe to do the same in return. Dean and I paused, sharing a look of exhaustion amid their childish antics.
"Sorry, Cas, what happens next?" Gabe asked self-consciously, aware that he’d become the center of everyone’s attention.
“When Simon was just a baby, his mom met a tragic end—murdered under sinister circumstances. The cops attributed her death to a house fire, but the reality was far more horrifying: an unidentified monster had burned her alive on the ceiling of Simon's bedroom.
So the boy’s father, Jim Harrison, embarked on an obsessive revenge mission, traversing the country several times over while trying to hunt down the thing that killed his wife. Eventually, he figures out they’re hunting a demon, but the more he learns, the more he realizes that Simon’s psychic abilities are somehow interconnected. Then finally, when Jim does track the demon down, it turns out to be this yellow-eyed sonofabitch, who’s trying to build up an army of super kids by force-feeding them his blood!”
“Oh, Eew! That’s so gross, Cas!” Charlie said, grabbing her throat and pretending to gag.
“What happens next, Cas? Do they hunt down the demon and get their revenge?” Dean asked, redirecting everyone’s focus back to me.
“Well, first, Simon gets kidnapped by demons, and then he has to fight to the death against all these other demon-blood-drinking kids. Fortunately, he manages to outlast them with the ninja fighting skills his dad taught him and then uses his powers to telepathically contact his older brother, Dean.”
Taking a sip of water from my canteen, I paused dramatically, trying to build suspense. In the dim light, my eyes were drawn to Dean’s instinctively. When he smiled back, a flash of heat raced through me. Though he seemed honored to have been incorporated into my story, there was also a hint of something else in his expression. Chalking it up to embarrassment, I ignored the swirling feeling beneath my ribs and continued to speak.
“While Jim and Dean do find Simon, they arrive too late. Just as Simon’s eyes connect with Dean’s, this other guy, Jeff, who's old enough to fight in the Gulf War- comes out of nowhere and stabs Simon in the back! Dean tries to save him anyway, but by the time he reaches Simon, his little brother is dead. Overcome by anger and grief, Dean howls into the void. As he clutches Simon’s lifeless body tightly against his chest, Dean swears to avenge his brother no matter the cost.”
As I cleared my throat, hushed expectancy settled around me. The firelight cast an otherworldly glow upon our faces, creating an atmosphere of anticipation. Momentarily encouraged by the silence, I allowed myself to believe my story had been successful. But as the moment dragged on, the sensation of too many eyes watching began to overwhelm me.
“Oh shit- then what happened?” Gabe asked, the resolute finality of my narrative breaking his trance.
“Yeah, Cas, what happened next?” Charlie asked, echoing Gabe.
“What do you mean what happened? That's how it ends!” I said, trying not to feel hurt by my friend’s obvious disappointment.
“But what happened to the rest of the Harrison family? Did they ever get revenge on that demon, Azazel, or whatever his name was?” Charlie asked, sounding somewhat accusatory.
"I'm sorry, guys, that's all I've got so far," I said quietly.
“I don't know, dude, it just feels like there should be more to it than that, you know?” Gabe said with a frown.
“Yeah, Cas, it's a great story and all. I just wish it had ended differently,” Charlie said, breathing out a deep sigh.
Charlie was right, of course. The Harrison family did deserve a better than my lackluster ending. But although this sentiment would continue to haunt me, I could not yet grant them, nor anyone else in my life, any kind of authentic closure. Between Anna’s death and Dad moving out, It was becoming increasingly impossible to concentrate on much of anything, much less plotting out a suitable story arc or ending.
