Catfish Fever

Later that evening, when the brothers briefly reunited, they shared what information they had gleaned from earlier that day.

“So, what do you think it is, bro?” asked Dean, intently watching his brother study the green scale with a magnifying glass under the light of the lamp.

“It’s definitely some type of scale.”

“Well, duh! I thought with that brain of yours, you’d have more to say than, ‘it’s some type of scale’,” remarked Dean sarcastically. “And they call you the smart one,” he grumbled derisively under his breath.

Sam’s eyes darted to his brother. “You expect me to figure out what species this thing belongs to when all I have is a fucking magnifying glass? Don’t be an ass!” He looked back at the green scale. “It smells fishy.”

“So you think that Truluck kid’s right, that we’re dealing with some type of Loch Ness Monster?”

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed. “Does Nessie smell fishy?”

“Don’t have a clue,” answered Dean, antsy to leave the motel room for one of the local bars. “I’ll leave you to it then. Call me if you find out something.” He pulled out his car keys and headed for the door. “See you later.”

“Dick,” mumbled Sam when the door had closed behind Dean. He put the scale back into the baggie before taking a seat at the table. With his trusty laptop at the ready, Sam began the tedious task of research, something his brother detested with a passion.

The younger Winchester believed that something had invaded the waterways of Garvin County. Since the disappearances hadn’t begun prior to the year before, he thought that whatever the creature was had come into the area at that time. If that was the case, then, perhaps, similar mutilations could have happened elsewhere within the state.

He pulled up a map of Okalahoma and noted which counties the Washita River flowed through. He then searched the missing persons reports for each county, finding that there had been some disappearances on the river, but that no mutilated bodies had been found. That is, until he began his search of similar instances along the Red River, the waterway that the Washita emptied into and that formed the boundary between Okalahoma and Texas.

Sam hacked into the Cooke County Sheriff Department’s computer system, eager to read the reports on the victims found in Texas. He was astounded to read that the information contained in the reports matched those in Garvin County. All the victims had been male and their reproductive organs had been cut out.

The hunter toggled between the pages on his computer screen, looking at the various maps he had pulled up. He decided to search the areas west along the Red River for other similar incidents. When no similar deaths showed up west of the Washita and Red Rivers, he began searching county by county to the east.

“Jesus,” he muttered, finding that the mutilations crossed over into another state - Arkansas. The more he continued with his investigation, the more disturbing the results were. Similar cases were reported in the rivers in Arkansas near the Texas border. Searching county by county along the waterways, he found more and more cases that matched the same m.o. as that in Garvin County.

Sam’s heart started to race when he realized that the mutilations had begun four years ago, in 2005, along the Gulf of Mexico, in Louisiana.

“What the hell happened in 2005 in the Gulf of Mexico?” he uttered to himself.

He’d Google the answer.

The younger Winchester gasped at the result - Hurricane Katrina.

Was it possible that the storm surge brought some type of sea creature to the coast, which then made its way into the nearby rivers? he thought to himself.

He rose out of his chair, anxious to get one of the books that was housed in the trunk of the Impala. He had nearly made it to the door when he realized that Dean had taken the car.

“Damn it,” he groaned, whipping out his cell phone and dialing his brother’s number.

“Yeah,” answered a distracted Dean.

“I think I found something,” reported Sam. “I need one of the books in the trunk.”

“Aw, c’mon, Sammy. I’m kinda busy right now, if you know what I mean,” he said, slightly slurring his words.

“Dean, it’s important,” insisted the younger Winchester.

“So is Mandy!” argued his older brother. “She’s as sweet as candy.”

A woman in the background giggled.

“Just get your ass back here!” demanded Sam, disconnecting the line before Dean could further voice his protests.

Annoyed with his brother’s flippant attitude, (which Sam should have been used to by now, but wasn’t), he started another pot of coffee, knowing that his brother would need sobering up whenever he got back.

He glanced at the digital clock beside the bed. It read 12:36 a.m..

Sam was stunned that the hours had swiftly slipped by him unnoticed. That would explain the stiffness in his limbs. Knowing that it would take Dean a while to get back, he decided to take a walk, hoping the fresh air would do him some good.



Dean returned about fifteen minutes later. “Hey! Captain Egghead! I’m back!” he announced upon entering the room. He tossed his keys on the dresser, his glassy eyes scanning the room. “Sammy? You in the bathroom?”

No answer.

Finding the room deserted, Dean wandered over to the table and rummaged through the sheets of paper upon which Sam had scribbled notes. He picked up one of the pages, trying to decipher Sam’s hastily scrawled writings. From the looks of it, Sam had ruled out sea serpents as the cause behind the deaths. Instead, he listed possible human-monster hybrids that could be responsible for the murders. Amongst them were listed Scylla, harpies, lamias, Nereid and sirens.

Dean snorted. “You’re grasping at straws, Sammy,” he uttered. Throwing the paper back down on the table, the elder Winchester yawned. Though he hadn’t scored with Mandy, the elder Winchester was suddenly overcome with the desire for sleep. Not five minutes later, he was out like a light.

Sam was excited to see that the Impala was back. He entered the room, only to see Dean sound asleep. Grabbing the car keys, he went back outside and popped open the trunk. He then retrieved his book, Monsters that Prowl Both Sea and Land from the hidden compartment. Shutting the trunk, he then returned to the room and fell back into research mode.

After referencing his book, Sam definitely believed that the creature was half-human, or at least, human-like. He thought that he remembered Bobby telling him of a fellow hunter in Florida, he believed, that had run into some mermaids or some equally notable mythological creatures.

He glanced at the clock. It read 2:12. Grabbing his cell phone, he stepped into the bathroom so as not to disturb his brother and dialed Bobby’s number.

After several rings, Bobby answered the phone with a groggy, “Hello?”

“Hey, Bobby. It’s Sam,” the younger Winchester said.

“Sam?” repeated Bobby sleepily. Repeating Sam’s name immediately jolted the hunter awake. Worry replaced weariness. “You okay? Dean?” Bobby asked in a tone that reflected his concern.

“We’re fine.”

There was pause in the conversation before the older hunter came back with, “Damn it, boy! You know what time it is?”

“Sorry, Bobby, but we’re working this case in Oklahoma and I needed to ask you about something.”

Bobby made a grunting sound on the other end of the phone, a sound that meant that Sam had best not beat around the bush, but get on with his question.

“I remember you telling me about some hunter in Florida that ran into some mermaids or something. Do you remember that?”

“Mermaids,” repeated his surrogate father. “What the hell do mermaids have to do with Oklahoma?”

“Dean and I are working on this case in Pauls Valley. Looks like a bunch of noodlers have been disappearing in the waters here, only to resurface days or weeks later with their… um, genitals cut out.”

Bobby didn’t reply.

“Um, I think that there’s some type of mythological creature at work here,” Sam continued to explain. “One kid I spoke to said he saw some type of serpent, but I’m beginning to have my doubts about that. Dean discovered one of the victims clothing hidden beneath a dock. And that tells me that we’re dealing with something that has more human-like features, you know, since serpents don’t have hands… ”

“You sure you ain’t dealing with a human killer, Sam?” asked Bobby.

“Pretty sure. One of the victims had green scales under his fingernails. It looked and smelled fish-like. My guess is that the victim was fighting off his attacker and his nails skimmed across the thing’s… well, scaly flesh.”

“Hmm,” Bobby sounded. “I can see how that would point you in the monster direction.”

“And I found a pattern too, Bobby. Similar killings have taken place in Texas, Arkansas and Louisiana and date back to 2005, the same year Katrina hit. That’s when all this started.”

“So you think the storm brought something into the Gulf, I take it,” deduced Bobby.

“Yeah. And I remember you telling me a few years ago about someone that had a run in with mermaids or something - ” started Sam before Bobby cut him off.

“ - Nah, you’re confused, Sam,” interjected the older hunter. “I told you about Wendell Robinson and he heard the story second-hand. Let me think,” said Bobby, pausing for a moment. “If I remember correctly, Wendell said that he was investigating some case down in Miami. Some Cubans escaping their homeland said that they encountered some mermaids while at sea. From what he was told, and he heard this from his buddies in the Coast Guard, the mermaid sang this enchanting song that lured some guys in another boat over to her. Next thing they saw was a whole school of mermaids descending upon the men, pulling them off their boat and under the water. Never saw ‘em again.”

“Do you think it’s true, that mermaids exist?” queried Sam.

“Son, after all the creatures we’ve encountered over the years, can’t rule out nothing, can we?”

“Good point,” replied Sam. “Sorry I woke you.”

“Yeah, well, that’s okay. If you need me, I’m only a phone call away.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” Sam then snapped his cell phone shut.

The younger Winchester hoped that tomorrow he’d be able to find the mermaid’s lair with a little help from Sonny. They would explore some of the area caves. Thinking he had better get some rest, Sam decided to call it a night. He took a shot of Nyquil to help shut down his brain.



Dean’s eyes blinked open to a still dark room. He glanced at the clock, which read 5:27. He tried to go back to sleep, but found himself wide-awake. Crawling out of bed, he took a leak and brushed his teeth before dressing quietly. He didn’t want to wake Sam.

Having learned that dawn was one of the best times for noodling, Dean decided that he’d head over to the river to check things out. He jotted a quick note for his brother, telling him where he was going, before placing it on the pillow beside the younger Winchester’s head. He then fished the napkin map from his jacket pocket and grabbed his keys from the dresser before leaving the room.

The Impala had already rumbled to life when Dean realized he had forgotten something. Leaving the engine idling, he crept back into the room. Smiling, he snatched his can of Off before leaving for a second time.

On his way to the Washita River, Dean made a quick pit stop at a local convenience store for a cup of coffee and a couple of doughnuts.

With Ted Nugent’s Wang Dang Sweet Poontang blaring through the car’s speakers, the Impala roared down Highway 19, zipping past fields still swathed in darkness.

Referencing his map from time to time, Dean headed to an area of the river where the first body had washed up. The Impala turned off the highway and onto a dirt road. The elder Winchester did his best to avoid the gullies in the road, cursing whenever his beloved baby hit one too hard.

By the time he had reached his destination, the sky was beginning to lighten, turning from black to a dismal gray. A light fog lay about the land, giving it a creepy vibe. Exiting the Impala with his can of Off, Dean sprayed himself from head to toe before tossing the can back into the car.

Using his trusty napkin map as a guide, he followed the trail through the woods to the river. He walked along the bank until he came to a game trail that led to the water’s edge. An old broken concrete slab lay partially submerged at the brink of the river, conveniently doubling as a seat for the hunter.

Dean sat there, waiting, watching as the fog slowly rolled along the water’s surface, gradually dissipating. He hadn’t been there long when he heard something rippling the water. He shifted his gaze toward the sound, listening intently.

He thought he heard someone faintly humming. His eyes narrowed in an attempt to pierce through the haze. He definitely heard someone humming. He then caught sight of a beautiful woman several yards away, slowly swimming against the current. His jaw dropped. His eyes widened. Dean Winchester was instantly captivated by the gorgeous woman.

The woman’s long red hair was slicked back from her face, the locks fanning out behind her on the water’s surface. Her skin looked milky white, contrasting with the murky brown water.

As the woman neared Dean, her humming turned to singing, her voice riveting the hunter further.

“If I say to you tomorrow,
Take my hand child come with me
To a castle I will take you,
Where what’s to be, they say will be… ” *

As she fixed her gaze on Dean, seated at the edge of the river, she stopped singing.

Clearing his throat, he smiled, saying, “Zeppelin fan, huh?”

The woman didn’t answer. She kept her almond-shaped, green eyes locked on the elder Winchester. She then tilted her head, parting her lips slightly, as if inviting the hunter to kiss them.

“Kinda early for a swim, don’t you think?” he remarked. “Not to mention dangerous.”

“A girl’s gotta exercise, keep in shape,” answered the woman in the sweetest voice.

“What’s your name?” Dean asked, mesmerized by the graceful motion of her white arms in the water.

“Cherry,” she replied, licking her lips.

“You’re shitting me,” uttered the hunter under his breath.

“You’re cute,” she continued, disregarding Dean’s comment altogether. “If the water’s so dangerous, why don’t you join me? I’d love a strong, handsome man like yourself to… to protect me,” she said suggestively, making a point to rise a bit out of the water, revealing her ample naked breasts to Dean.

Before the elder Winchester realized what he was doing, he had begun to hastily remove his clothing. “I don’t need asking twice,” he answered excitedly, tossing his garments behind him.

Once nude, he dove into the river. His head popped out of the water in front of Cherry. “Ooh, the water’s cold.”

“Let’s see if I can warm you up,” she replied, gliding closer to the hunter. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him closer. She then pressed her mouth against Dean’s, kissing him deeply.

Thinking that this was his lucky day, the elder Winchester wrapped one of his arms around the woman’s shoulders while the other reached for her breast. As he kneaded her soft mound with one hand, the other slid down her back, eager to feel her behind. Her skin went from smooth to scaly, causing Dean’s eyes to pop open in alarm. He tried to break away from the kiss, but found himself unable to pull away from Cherry.

She then yanked him under the water.

Dean attempted to struggle until he lost consciousness.



*lyrics by Robert Plant