Catfish Fever

By the time Sam reached the motel, he was drenched in sweat. The afternoon sun had beamed down upon him during his trek, and wearing a suit and tie didn’t help any. To the hunter, it seemed rather hot for a mid-June day. He stripped out of his clothes and jumped in the shower, the cool water providing him with instant relief.

Now dressed in more comfortable clothing, Sam was running a brush through his damp hair when he heard a knock at the door.

When he opened the door, he saw a scrawny kid standing there. The boy didn’t look any older than sixteen. He was dressed in a pair of tattered denim cutoff’s, a faded Marshall Tucker concert tee shirt and a pair of dingy high-tops. Tufts of dirty blond hair hung out from beneath his GOA baseball cap.

“Are you the F.B.I. Agent?” he asked in a pronounced southern accent, quite unlike his father’s Oklahoman twang.

“Yeah, Sam Blackmore,” answered the hunter. “You Sonny?”

“Yes sir. I am,” the boy answered politely. “My daddy said that you wanted to speak with me.”

“Yeah, I did. Come on in,” said Sam, pulling the door further open.

Sonny took a deep breath before stepping into the room. Remembering his momma’s words, he pulled off his cap and ran his fingers through his shaggy hair.

Sam smiled. He already liked the boy. “Have a seat, Sonny,” Sam continued, pointing to the hideous colored, green upholstered chair at the table.

The boy sat down, fidgeting with the hat in his hands.

Sam took a seat opposite Sonny. “Your dad tells me that you saw something… strange in the Washita River. I’d like for you to tell me about it.”

“Well, it was no big deal really.” The boy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn’t want to offer more details, believing that the F.B.I. agent would think he was crazy, or even worse, that he’d arrest him for ingesting hallucinogens.

Sam looked down at his notepad. “Your dad said that you saw something long, green and scaly,” he read from his notes.

Sonny’s cheeks flushed. He avoided making eye contact with Sam.

When the boy didn’t respond, Sam continued. “Bob Barber seems to believe that you were under the influence at the time of the sighting, that you had consumed psychedelic mushrooms. Is that true?” the younger Winchester asked in his most gentle voice.

The kid’s face went from red to pale. He stared down at the cap that he continued to fiddle with in his hands. His leg then began to shake. After a long pause, he looked Sam in the eyes and asked, “Are you gonna arrest me?”

“No,” snorted a smiling Sam, shaking his head. “I just wanna know what you saw.”

Sonny let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he mumbled gratefully. “I was half thinking that you were gonna throw me in the paddy wagon and haul me off to Boys Town or something.”

“Well, you’ve got nothing to worry about. My only concern is stopping these murders.”

With his uneasiness abating, the boy kept his brown eyes locked on Sam. “You know, I’ve done shrooms a few times. It’s stupid, I know, but it helps pass the time,” admitted Sonny. “And it’s not like I see pink elephants in tutus or anything.”

Sam chortled.

“My perception might be slightly altered, but I know what I see. Mr. Barber,” he said, rolling his eyes, “he’s the last one to talk about anybody. He likes to hit the hooch a bit too much if you ask me. I’m a more credible witness than him, whether I’m on shrooms or not.”

“What did you see that day?” queried Sam yet again.

“Well, it’s like I told my daddy. I was climbing up the bank of the river when I heard something break the water. I looked over my shoulder and saw this long, green scaly thing slinking in the river. It was long. Real long. Reminded me of those pictures of the Loch Ness Monster.”

“What did you do next?”

“I got the hell outta there as fast as I could. Nearly peed my britches too.” The boy shuddered. “Scared me nearly to death.”

“How long would you say this creature was?” asked the hunter, taking Sonny’s words very seriously.

The boy’s brows shot up. “You mean you believe me?!” the boy exclaimed in disbelief.

“Why wouldn’t I?” responded Sam.

“‘Cause I’m a kid, and I admitted to being under the influence of hallucinogens.”

“Let me tell you something, Sonny,” began Sam. “I’ve seen things in my life that would probably blow your mind. The world’s a big place. There’s lots of unusual creatures in it - ”

“ - Like Bigfoot?”

“Yeah, like Bigfoot,” agreed Sam.

Sonny’s eyes then lit up. “Hey! You and your partner are like Mulder and Scully, right? Like on the X-files? Y’all investigate the unexplained - strange happenings like what’s going on here,” he said excitedly.

“You could say that,” answered Sam with a smile. “But for the record, I’m more like Mulder and my partner’s more like Scully.”

“Damn! That’s so cool,” said Sonny, looking at Sam in awe. “Though I don’t think your partner would like being compared to some chick.”

The younger Winchester leaned forward, am impish grin on his face. “Between me and you, he sometimes acts like a chick.”

Sonny laughed.

When their laughter had died down, Sam said, “Getting back to business… ”

The smile left the boy’s face.

“You said this thing reminded you of the Loch Ness Monster.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Sonny with a nod of the head.

“The million dollar question is, how can a creature that big hide in a river? The Scottish lake is pretty big in comparison, and I haven’t heard of any sightings of this thing other than from you.”

“That’s easy enough. In the caves.”

“Caves?”

“Yeah. There’s caves in our rivers, but they’re deep underwater. Only divers can get to them,” revealed Sonny.

“Have you ever been to these caves?” queried Sam, concealing his excitement at this revelation.

“Sure. I’m a certified cave diver. Got my certification last year when we went to Florida. I’ve checked out the few caves we’ve got in the Washita loads of times, but not lately.”

“Hmm,” sounded Sam, leaning back in his chair. He folded his arms across his chest. “You think you can teach me how to dive?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” shot back the kid with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “All my gear’s at the house. If you want, we can start now. Daddy gave me the rest of the day off.”

“Um, I don’t think I can do it today. My partner’s got the car,” remarked Sam.

“I drove my truck. I can drive,” offered the boy.

“Alright,” answered an appreciative Sam. “By the way, you can call me Sam.”

The two then left the motel room and walked over to Sonny’s 1968 Ford pickup.

Noticing that the truck was painted primer gray, the hunter said, “Nice truck. You restoring it?”

“Yeah, slowly but surely. She’s my pride and joy. Came with a 352, but I put a 428 Cobra-jet in it when my cousin totaled his Torino. She’s fast, man.”

The two climbed into the cab. Against the back window hung a rifle rack, complete with a shotgun and a .22 rifle. However, Sam’s eyes immediately went to the laminated pencil drawing dangling from the rear view mirror. It was a sketch of a large catfish chomping on a forearm. Droplets of blood splattered below the picture, forming the words, “Catfish Fever.”

The image made Sam chuckle.

As soon as Sonny turned the ignition, ZZ Top’s, Beer Drinkers and Hell Raisers blared through the speakers of the cab, causing Sam to jump with a start.

The boy grimaced and quickly clicked off the tape player. “Sorry about that,” he apologized. “I didn’t think anyone would be riding with me, and I like to hear my music loud.”

“My brother does too,” answered Sam, as the pickup pulled out of the parking lot. “So, you a big fan of ZZ Top?” asked the hunter in an attempt to make small talk.

“Oh, yeah,” answered Sonny. “I love all the old hard rock bands. These new bands around nowadays suck.”

“I know what you mean,” answered the hunter.

“You a fan of classic rock?”

“Yep,” replied Sam, looking out the windshield as the truck rolled along the brick street.

“Thought so.” There was a moment of awkward silence, then Sonny said, “Did you know you share the same last name as The Man in Black?”

“The Man in Black?” repeated Sam, his heart beginning to pump faster at the kid’s question.

“Yeah, you know, Richie Blackmore. He’s a killer guitarist. Played with Deep Purple and Rainbow.” Sonny glanced at Sam. “You wouldn’t happen to be kin to him? I know he lives in America now. In New York, I believe.”

“Nah,” the younger Winchester answered. Worried that the boy would blow his cover, Sam needed to change the conversation quick. His eyes darted around the interior of the cab, looking for something to talk about. Once again, his eyes stopped on the “ornament” dangling from the rearview mirror.

“You draw that?” Sam asked, pointing to the laminated drawing.

“Nah, my sister Katie did. You can probably tell that she’s a huge Nugent fan. Says he’s the all-American man.”

“She’s very talented.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Sonny answered with a shrug.

Wanting to keep the conversation from straying back to Sam’s choice of last names, the hunter looked for something else to talk about. His eyes stopped on the boy’s forearm, which was draped over the top of the steering wheel. Several long, thin scars wrapped around Sonny’s arm.

“Looks like Freddie Kruger got a hold of you,” Sam remarked, nudging his head toward the boy’s scars.

“Nope. That’s from a forty-one pound three ounce flathead,” Sonny answered, showing off his scars with pride. The scar tissue ran from his knuckles to midway up his arm. “Damn fish nearly drowned me. Thank God daddy was with me. While the fish was pulling me down, daddy was yanking me up. That bitch’s teeth raked down my arm. Man, it felt like razor blades slicing my flesh. Thought she’d get away, but daddy was able to whip his net through the water and helped me snag her. She’s mounted on the wall in the living room.”

“Seems like a dangerous way to fish for a kid your size.”

“Pfft,” sounded Sonny. “Noodling turns a boy into a man real fast, as my granddaddy always says.”

“And your mom, she doesn’t mind that you… noodle?” queried Sam.

“She don’t mind it.” The kid paused. “Well, she does now with all the disappearances and all. But we noodlers are a tough breed of folk.”

“I’m sure all the victims thought the same thing too,” remarked the hunter. “You really need to avoid the rivers until this thing’s caught.”

“Can’t do it, Sam. It’s in my blood. I’ve gotta hunt. Gotta fish. The big one’s out there, calling out to me. And I’m gonna get it too. Mark my words.” He glanced at the agent seated beside him, grinning. “In a way, I guess I’m no different than you. You’re a hunter, a different sort of hunter, but a hunter just the same. We’ve both got our jobs to do. And we’ll see it through to the end, come hell or high water.”

Sam smiled. The kid’s comments were more accurate than he knew. “Exactly how old are you?” Sam asked, thinking that he was dealing with no ordinary kid.

“Fifteen.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. Sonny wasn’t even old enough to drive, legally.

“But I’ll be sixteen in August. That’s just two months away,” he quickly added.

“You shouldn’t be driving,” Sam said, though he had been guilty of the same thing when he was Sonny’s age.

“Shit, Sam, I’ve been driving since I was nine. Never wrecked. Never gotta ticket. I know what I’m doing. Wouldn’t be doing it otherwise.”

For the remainder of the drive, the two mostly spoke of noodling and cave diving. Sam gathered additional information about the sport of noodling, more than he had been able to glean from the internet alone. He filed that newfound knowledge in his brain, hoping that it would prove helpful in solving this latest mystery.

A large sign stood at the intersection where the Ford pickup left the pavement for a gravel road. It read, “Truluck’s Lakefront Campground.” Beneath the name, was listed all the amenities the place offered. Before reaching the gated entrance to the campground, Sonny turned right, following a grassy lane that would take them to his house. On either side stood majestic oaks, their leafy limbs stretching across the drive, forming a canopy that shielded them from the afternoon sun.

The second gate they reached could only be opened electronically. Sonny pushed the button on the remote clipped to the sun visor of his truck, and slowly the gate swung open, allowing them entry.

“Daddy likes his privacy. Doesn’t want the patrons of the park to wander up to the house at all hours of the day and night,” explained Sonny.

Once the pickup had rounded the last curve, a beautiful two-story log home came into view with Lake Longmire in the background.

Sam was instantly impressed. Sonny was living the life that the hunter could only dream of. Sam, like Dean, would have liked nothing more than to settle down, to have a “normal” life. But that’s not the hand that fate had dealt him. Instead, he had spent his entire life moving from city to city, living in ratty old motel rooms, and subsisting off fast food or canned crap.

But it was those hardships in life that had made him the man he was today - self-reliant, smart, and quick to act on his feet. His sole purpose in life was to save as many people as he could, to rid the world of diabolical demons and monsters that sought death, destruction and mayhem at every turn. Sonny was right about one thing - that Sam was a hunter and that it was in his blood.

“Sam! Sam!” The boy nudged Sam’s arm, pulling the hunter out of his reverie. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” answered the younger Winchester, opening the door and following Sonny.

“My diving equipment’s stored in the garage. We’ll practice in the lake, first. I don’t want you hitting the river until you’ve got the basics down pat.”

Sonny spent the remainder of the afternoon teaching Sam how to dive. While lake diving was quite different from cave diving, the kid felt that it was important that Sam become comfortable with all the equipment before he took him to the river. The lessons emphasized safety first, and how to counteract potential problems related to the equipment.

By the time they had finished, the sun was sinking over the horizon, and it was suppertime. Mr. Truluck insisted that Sam join the family for dinner, an offer he couldn’t refuse. It’s wasn’t too often the hunter was offered a hearty, home-cooked meal.

It soon became obvious that Sonny had picked up his southern accent from his mother, whom everyone called Peaches, because she had been born and raised in Savannah, Georgia. And there was no doubt that their dinner was influenced by Peaches’ southern heritage. The meal consisted of fried catfish fillets, sweet potato fries, hushpuppies and coleslaw, all homemade by Peaches and her daughters, Katie, Misty and Savannah. The food tasted far better than anything the Winchesters ever ate while on the road.

The oldest daughter, Katie, kept eyeing Sam throughout the meal. Every time their eyes met, the girl’s cheeks turned pink and she shifted her gaze elsewhere. Sam thought it was cute that the eighteen year old appeared to have a crush on him.

After they finished eating, Sam thanked the Truluck’s for their hospitality before Sonny drove him back to the motel.


Author’s Note: GOA = Gun Owners of America