Dean rushed into the bathroom, faced the sink, and retched with all his strength. Sam also hurried over and patted him hard on the back.
After a long time, Dean's entire face was red from suppressing it, and his eyes were bulging high. When it looked like he was about to explode, he finally spurted out of his mouth with a "vomit" sound. A mouthful of blood.
"Pa", the blood also contained something hard.
Dean staggered back a few steps, sat down weakly on the ground, and gasped: "Damn it, don't let it be my internal organs..."
Sam frowned, took out a square object from the sink that was splattered with blood, rinsed it with water, and found that it turned out to be a piece of wood only the size of a fingernail.
"What's this?"
"It looks like a piece of wood."
"I know it's wood chips, but why did it come out of my mouth?"
"I have to ask you, right?"
Sam looked at Dean suspiciously, and Dean waved his hands quickly: "Am I crazy? Are you going to eat that food?"
Sam helped Dean walk out of the bathroom and threw him on the sofa. He took the piece of wood and looked around: "This thing... looks like it was peeled off from something. You see, there are traces of friction on it." .”
Dean covered his mouth and said angrily: "Of course there are traces of friction, after all, it came out of my throat."
"No, this friction mark should have been on it a long time ago, unless you have a steel plate in your throat." Sam rubbed the wood piece with his fingers and confirmed, "This is definitely caused by rubbing on a hard object. The mark is very deep."
Dean said lazily, "So what, how can we investigate with just this piece of wood? Unless this kind of wood chip is produced in this town."
Sam was stunned, looked at Dean suddenly, and said in a deep voice: "Remember the dead richest man in the town? His family business had a small wood processing factory."
Dean sat up suddenly, frowned and said, "Keep talking."
Sam continued: "When I met with the chief of police today, I chatted with other police officers in the police station and heard that there was a wood processing factory in the town back then, and many residents of the town worked in the factory. Unfortunately, with the economic crisis , the richest man had no choice but to close the factory, but he issued subsidies before closing, so the residents of the town were not very happy."
"But just a month ago, the richest man suddenly reopened the wood processing factory and hired many small town residents. Unfortunately, with the sudden death of the richest man, the factory was closed again."
Dean took the wooden block from Sam's hand: "You think there's something wrong with that factory."
Sam shrugged: "At least it's a clue."
Dean thought for a while and threw the wood chip back to Sam: "Okay, let's go take a look tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? Go now. Considering your physical condition, I'm afraid I can't delay it any longer." Sam stood up and said anxiously, "This time I'm spitting out wood chips. What will I spit out next time? A machine tool?"
Dean glanced at the window. It was dark outside: "But it's night now."
"so what?"
"It's not safe to go out at night."
"We have carried out countless missions at night before. Do you feel unsafe now?"
Dean also stood up and said solemnly: "I was just going to talk to you about this issue. Sammy, don't you think our job is too dangerous? Eliminating demons? It's none of our business. Look at what we are doing now." The life I live is a life of chaos and displacement, which is not a normal life at all.”
Sam said coldly: "I know you are sick now, Dean, so I won't quarrel with you. Now I will go investigate the factory. As for whether you... love will come or not."
Dean snorted: "I won't go."
An hour later.
Dean got out of the car furtively with a flashlight and looked around cautiously.
"Let me tell you first, I'm not afraid, I'm just worried that you'll be in danger alone."
"Okay, okay, you repeated this sentence more than 800 times on the road."
Sam shook his head helplessly and opened the trunk. The spacious trunk is filled with a variety of arms and weapons.
"No, this is yours."
Looking at the pistol in front of him, Dean was startled, and then shook his head vigorously: "This thing is too dangerous, I won't bang it."
Sam said helplessly: "It's filled with salt bombs. It can't kill anyone. What's more, what if there is danger in the factory?"
"That won't work. If it goes off, it will hurt a lot." Dean held the flashlight tightly, "I'll just use this."
"whatever."
Sam knew that Dean could no longer communicate as a normal person. He curled his lips, took a shotgun, and walked into the wood processing factory in front of him with Dean.
The police officers were right. There were fresh wheel marks in the courtyard. Apparently, goods were shipped here a few days ago. Judging from the tire tracks, the truck was quite heavy.
Sam frowned and picked up a piece of wood from the ground. Under the light of the flashlight in Dean's hand, he found that it was almost identical to the piece of wood that Dean had spit out.
Except there are no serious rub marks on it.
It can be confirmed that this place is definitely related to the fear virus spreading in the town.
Sam's eyes flashed with surprise as he led Dean into the factory cautiously. The factory was in a mess. It was obvious that there had been looting before the closure, probably by workers who knew they were going to lose their jobs again.
Dean followed Sam, holding a flashlight and looking around cautiously. Suddenly he saw a tall black figure in the corner of the wall. He trembled with fright, and then he lay on Sam's shoulder, not daring to look.
"It's okay, it's just a piece of canvas."
Sam stepped forward helplessly, stretched out his hand to pull off the canvas, and found that the canvas was covered with two stacked wooden boxes. The wooden planks on the wooden box have not been ordered yet, and it is not technically finished yet. Perhaps that is why no one took it away.
Sam patted the wooden box and smiled at Dean: "How are you, are you okay?"
Dean nodded with a pale face and looked left and right more nervously. And in the light of his light, Sam suddenly saw a note pressed under the wooden box.
"The town of Drolcliffe closes..."
Sam looked at the writing on the note and frowned tightly.
At this time, Dean suddenly backed away from Sam and said in a deep voice: "Someone is coming."
Sure enough, dazzling lights lit up outside the broken workshop window, and someone was indeed coming.
Someone comes to this damn place at this time, and they definitely don’t mean to do anything good.
Sam quickly pulled Dean and hid behind a machine tool, looking out carefully.
Fortunately, when I parked my car, I parked the Chevrolet Impala on the side road on the opposite side of the highway. It was so dark that no one might notice it.
With a "bang" sound, the workshop door was kicked open.
A person staggered in, and with the car lights shining in from the window, Sam could see the other person's appearance clearly.
It turned out to be the town police chief.
I saw that his clothes were in tatters and there were wounds scratched by fingernails everywhere. He was holding a shotgun in his left hand and a gasoline barrel in his right hand.
"He wants to destroy the body and destroy the scene?"
Sam held the shotgun in his hand. His gun was filled with salt blocks that could repel spirits, not real bullets. If he fights with the police chief, he will definitely not be able to fight with him.
"This is how to do?"
Sam looked at the sergeant who was pouring gasoline around when he came in. He gritted his teeth and reached out to pull Dean, preparing to attract the sergeant's attention so that Dean could take the opportunity to shoot the sergeant down.
However, he pulled several times, but Dean, who was hiding behind him, didn't respond. Sam had no choice but to look back, only to see Dean staring blankly in another direction, his mouth wide open, and he was too scared to make a sound.