Chapter 1
Tortilla Flats Saloon, Arizona
Three days earlier...
"Geronimo is said to have had magical powers.” Dean Winchester took his green eyes from the book in front of him to glance at his younger brother, Sam, who was currently devouring a Mexican burger dripping with Pepper Jack cheese and Jalapenos in record time.
The older Winchester grabbed a fry from his plate and shook his head before returning to his reading. “ He could see into the future, walk without creating footprints, and even hold off the dawn to protect his own. This Apache Indian warrior and his band of 37 followers defied federal authority for more than 25 years.”
Sam took a long drink of his coke and shrugged. “Interesting.” He went back to his eating. Dean was on the ‘jazz’, the thrill of a new hunt making him even more annoying than usual.
“More than interesting.” Dean closed his father’s journal, and gave the other Winchester a hard stare. “Or else Dad wouldn’t have put it in here.”
Sam sighed. His brother was determined that they follow yet another mysterious message, this time an e-mail, that Dean was certain was from John Winchester. “Is that the only thing you found when you looked up New Hope, Arizona?”
Dean shrugged. "That and a torn piece of flyer for this place.” He waved the crumpled strip of yellow paper at Sam. “Tortilla Flats Saloon, home to the famous Grande Margarita and the Tortilla Flats Band." The older Winchester glanced up to the small wooden stage in the middle of the tavern. "Too bad we aren't staying. These guys cover Lynard Skynrd."
Sam groaned. "Like I need to hear Free Bird one more time." He was pretty sure he could sing all lyrics to every Skynrd song ever written, not to mention Metallica, ACDC, and Poison.
Dean ignored the jab at his taste in music and held up their father's journal again. "There was some writing in here that I have no clue about. Maybe I should have gone to college to become a linguist."
Sam grinned, wiped his hands on his jeans, and took the book from his brother. "You need a good grasp on the English language before you start slaughtering someone else's." He let his eyes run down the vaguely familiar markings. "It could be Apache, or maybe it's in some kind of code."
Dean dug his billfold out of his jacket pocket, to make sure they had enough cash to cover the bill. “Yeah, well with Dad, anything’s possible."
Sam nodded, closing the journal and handing it back to his brother. "Mysteriously vague was the man's middle name.”
Dean faltered and looked at Sam. "Is."
"Is what?" Sam couldn’t help but to notice that Dean was staring at him as if he'd just been slapped.
"You said- was."
Sam saw an old familiar hurt flash in his brother’s eyes and he felt a twinge of guilt race through him. He hadn‘t even noticed his use of the past tense, sure the hell hadn't meant to rub to salt in his brother's wounds. Although John Winchester sometimesdid seem more a part of his past than the present,Dean felt completely different about the man. “Dean…I didn’t…"
“You boys interested in dessert?” Rose, their waitress, who had insisted on bringing Sam seconds on the house, chose that moment to stop at their table.
Sam sighed and took another drink of his coke. One more thing he could add to his list of apologies to be made at a later date and time.
Rose gave both boys a smile that could only be described as maternal and tucked a lose gray curl behind her ear. Pulling out her pen, touching the tip to her tongue before pressing it to her order pad, she winked at Sam. “The caramel apple tortilla pie is the best in five states and you can bet your sweet cheeks that you ain’t ever tasted Flan like Max’s.”
Sam opened his mouth to reply, but Dean cut him off. “We’ll just take the check, please.” Seeing the disappointed look on his brother’s face he continued. “If we don’t go now, Sam, we’ll not make New Hope by nightfall.”
“Why in the world would two nice boys like yourselves want to drag your behinds into a place like New Hope?” Rose clucked disapprovingly. “Why, there’s been three people die in that town in the last two months.”
Sam shared a look with his brother. After receiving the message, supposedly from their missing father, the boys had located the coordinates on the map and researched the area. They already knew of the mysterious deaths. It was just another piece of evidence in Dean’s arsenal.
“That’s why we’re going. We’re reporters.” They'd already worked on their cover story also, and pretending to be reporters seemed safer than CDC agents or cops.
Rose let her light blue eyes go from one boy to the other. She hadn’t worked in the truck stop for twenty-six years and not learned a thing or two about people. “I see.” Without an invitation, she hooked her foot behind a chair leg and pulled it up close to her, sitting her robust bottom in it and focusing on Dean. “You two with the Phoenix Sun?”
Dean gave her a disarming smile and ducked his head slightly. Charm was excellent subterfuge, even with motherly types. “We’re out of Denver, actually.”
“Uh-huh.” Rose put her pad and pen on the table. These two were not your average Jimmy Olsen and Clark Kent. “Well, I’ll give you two a little scoop and won’t even charge you extra for it.” She waited until both Winchesters were attentive. “Ain’t nothing in that town that good, God-fearing, people want to read about.”
Rose brushed her stubborn curlsback off her face again and continued. “There’s enough death and misery in the news these days without dredging up things from the past. You two boys should try visiting Goldfield Miners Ghost Town, or maybe the Tonto National Monument, if you want a good story. New Hope will only break your heart. Trust me.”
Dean raised an eyebrow, feeling challenged by the woman‘s warning. "But you said yourself that three people died there, all from mysterious consequences. That’s newsworthy. I hate to say it, but death sales.”
She sighed. “There ain't nothing mysterious about it. They should have just kept the town quarantined or better yet just evacuated and let the place go to the vultures and rattlers.”
“From what we hear they didn’t have a reason to keep the quarantine. Nothing could be found to link the deaths.” Sam had found several AP articles full of speculations and conspiracy cover-up theories, but nothing anyone had been able to prove.
Rose looked at Sam. “All those people died from the same thing. A terrible sickness.” The waitress looked over her shoulder at the few sparse patrons in the establishment and lowered her voice. “New Hope is cursed."
“What do you mean cursed?” Dean was interested now. The unexplained deaths and the mention of New Hope in their father's journal had been more than enough to prompt him to check it out, especially after recieving the coordinates,but Rose had just cinched the deal. He had no doubt in his mind that John Winchester had sent them there for a reason. A reason which would bring them one step closer to their father and Dean one step closer to assuring Sam’s safety.
“I mean terrible things happened there, and the spirits can't rest." She glanced over her shoulder again, as if someone might be eavesdropping, before turning back to Sam and Dean. “This ain't the first time people have died in New Hope."
Sam shot Dean a quick look. "This has happened before?"
Rose nodded. "A few times.” She toyed with a gold locket hanging from her neck, seeming suddenly nervous. “Did you know that New Hope use to be an Indian village?"
"Did Geronimo happen to live at this Indian village?" Dean glanced at Sam, a triumphant smirk already on his handsome face, and then looked at Rose. The hunter already knew what she was going to say. Why else would John mention the legendary figure.
Rose confirmed his suspicions with an affirmative nod. "I see you boys have done your homework." She leaned closer to the table as if about to tell a great secret. "Geronimo lost his whole family there. He returned from Mexico to find his mother and wife and children all dead. Legends say that's when he got his powers."
"Powers?" Sam watched as Rose nodded enthusiastically.
"Geronimo swore revenge on the people who killed those he loved. He was never the same man after seeing the things the white men had done. That’s when the prophetic dreams and visions came to him, and some say, invincibility also. He vowed to kill as many whites as possible until he found the murderers. It became his life's crusade."
Dean watched his brother closely, waiting for any reaction to Rose’s story, hoping he wouldn’t see Sam make the same mental connection that he had. How easy it was for him to understand Geronimo’s thirst for vengeance. How easy would it be for Sam, especially in light of what his kid brother had been going through lately?
To give him credit, the younger Winchester never even flinched. “Rose, are you saying that you think Geronimo is killing people in New Hope.”
Rose rolled her eyes. "Heavens no, boy. I’m not quite senile enough to believe old Geronimo himself is out hunting for pale faces.” Her features darkened slightly. “But, I do think whatever is happening in New Hope has something to do with what happened more than 150 years ago, and not some Paraguayan flu caught from exotic fruit.”
Dean looked at the woman. “What exactly is it that you think caused those people to die?”
Rose looked decidedly more uncomfortable, as if she had already said too much. "People don't like to hear about things they don't understand. It makes them afraid, and fear easily turns to anger."
"We're not like most people, Rose." Sam smiled patiently at the waitress. "We've seen lots of things that most people wouldn't understand."
Rose nodded. "My daddy was a reporter, you know. He was real good with words. He won a Golden Pen award back in 1955. I still have it." Her eyes suddenly filled and she quickly stood and straightened her apron.
"I know what reporters do, searching for truth above all else." She tore their ticket from her order pad and laid it in front of Dean, her watery blue eyes holding his hazel gaze longer than necessary. "Make sure you know what the truth costs before you go chasing after it."
Sam caught her arm as she turned to go. "Rose, have you ever been to New Hope?"
“Not since my Mama died there nearly fifty years ago." She forced a smile, although it was strained and slid her pen behind her ear. "Now if you boys don't mind, I have other customers to tend to."
Sam nodded, realizing that their discussion was finished. "Thanks for talking to us."
At that, the old woman laughed, her deep, throaty chuckles cutting through some of the building tension. "Make sure you're tip shows your appreciation, sweetie. My retirement plan sucks."
“Did you get the feeling Waitress Rose knew more than she was willing to tell us." Dean picked their bill up and stood.
"I get the feeling she's really sad about something." Sam looked at his brother. "And that something has a lot to do with what's going on in New Hope."
Dean nodded, and picked up their dad's journal, it's familiar heavy weight giving him a sense of urgency. "Let's go see if we can find out what that is."
Onto Chapter 2
Return to Prologue