Catfish Fever

The incessant banging on the door roused Sam from his deep sleep. Somewhat dazed, he raised his head from the pillow, wiping the drool from his mouth.

“Coming!” he shouted, crawling to the edge of the bed. He grabbed his jeans from the floor and slipped them on before making his way toward the door. He stopped at the window and pulled the curtain back, the sun momentarily blinding him.

Sonny waved.

Sam flicked on the light switch then opened the door. “Come on in, Sonny.”

“Good morning, Sam,” said the boy cheerfully as he entered the room. “You still sleeping? Man, it’s nine o’ clock. You said to be here at nine, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” mumbled the hunter, still half-asleep. “I didn’t get to bed until late. Give me a few minutes to get ready.”

“Sure thing,” the boy replied, his bright eyes scanning the room.

Sam took off for the bathroom while Sonny wandered over to the table blanketed in sheets of paper. He was looking at some of the notes Sam had jotted down the night before when the opened book lying next to the laptop caught his eye. He leaned closer, surveying the pages about mermaids. He snickered.

“You think we’re dealing with mermaids, now?” he queried loudly so that the agent could hear him through the bathroom door.

“I’m beginning to think so,” answered Sam.

“Hmm,” the boy sounded. He shook his head, finding it bizarre that he and the F.B.I. agent were going to search out a mermaid’s lair instead of some sea serpent. Nonetheless, he found the whole idea much more appealing.

Turning away from the table, Sonny’s eyes did another quick survey of the room. Both beds were unmade, clothes strewed over the floor. His momma would have a fit if he kept his room that messy.

“You might wanna wear shorts unless you wanna go diving in your skivvies again,” the boy suggested.

On the floor, between the two beds, he spotted a piece of paper. Thinking that the air conditioner had blown one of Sam’s notes to the floor, Sonny walked over and picked it up. He quickly read the chicken-scratch writing as Sam stepped out of the bathroom and began to brush his teeth.

“Hey Sam! Looks like your partner left you a note,” Sonny said, taking the note over to the agent.

The younger Winchester took the paper and read it. He then leaned over the sink and spit the saliva-toothpaste mixture from his mouth.

“Shit,” he groaned, wiping his mouth on the hand towel. “Dean should’ve been back by now.”

“You think something’s wrong? That the serp- er, mermaid got him?” asked Sonny, concerned that Sam was so concerned.

“I don’t know. If it was nighttime I wouldn’t be worried. Dean’s kinda the night owl.” Sam perused the note once again. He then shifted his hazel eyes to Sonny. “You know where this place is?”

“Yeah, of course,” answered the boy. “Hurry up and get dressed and we’ll go check it out.”

Sam grabbed a pair of shorts and a tee shirt from his bag before heading back into the bathroom.

“We’ll probably need to swing by the house, first,” continued Sonny. “I only brought my diving gear and a couple of knives.” He turned his gaze to the opened book on the table. “If you think we might have a run in with mermaids or something, I think we’d be better off if we’re better armed.”

Once Sam had finished dressing, he and Sonny took off in the boy’s pickup. Sam called Dean, but there was no answer.

“Something’s wrong, ain’t it?” asked Sonny after the younger Winchester snapped his cell phone closed.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” he answered, slightly annoyed by his brother’s impulsiveness. Surely, Dean would be prepared if he encountered a mermaid, wouldn’t he? The sinking feeling in Sam’s stomach said otherwise. Dean was notorious for thinking with his dick. Yeah, groaned the hunter in his mind. Dean’s in trouble.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, they reached Sonny’s house. Sam followed the boy into the home and up the stairs. He hadn’t gone up to the second level yesterday. The boy’s room was at the end of the hallway. On the outside of his door hung a sign that read: ‘Estrogen Free Zone’ in big bold letters. Sam couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You got sisters?” Sonny asked him, as they entered the room.

“No, I don’t,” answered Sam.

“Count yourself lucky then. They’re whiny, bossy and hog the bathroom - not to mention that they turn into beasts once a month. Only have to deal with momma and Katie right now, but, hell, it won’t be much longer before Misty and Savannah join that club. Woe the day when that comes.”

Sonny headed toward his closet as Sam scoped out the room. It looked pretty much like the typical teenagers bedroom except that everything was neat and tidy and in its proper place. Each wall represented a different passion of the kid. One had framed rock posters adorning the wall, another had pictures of classic cars and trucks, and, most typical of a teenage boy, the third was covered in posters of bikini-clad women. The fourth wall had mostly hunting and noodling paraphernalia on it.

Over the headboard of the bed hung a deer head, gold chains dangling from the deer’s rack. There were several large, glossy framed photos of Sonny over the years holding his various catches - flathead catfish. Yet it was the two gun cabinets that flanked the nightstands on either side of the bed that caught Sam’s attention.

Sam knew that the Truluck’s were avid hunters - you got that vibe as soon as you walked into the house. But, beyond the glass door of the cabinets stood several military rifles, not the kind of weapons one would normally hunt with, at least, not animals. The hunter noticed an SKS, M1 Garand and AR 15 among others.

“Damn, you’ve got quite the arsenal here,” remarked Sam, doing a visual inspection of the weapons housed inside the case.

“Well, it’s all legit, just so you know. Technically they’re daddy’s, but when I turn twenty-one, they’re mine,” answered Sonny.

“You don’t use these for hunting, do you?” queried Sam, looking at the boy with a puzzled expression.

“Of course not. Wouldn’t be no meat left!” laughed the kid. “That’s for the war,” he added matter-of-factly.

“What war?” asked Sam, furrowing his brow.

“The one that’s gonna hit this country, soon. Daddy says he doesn’t know whether a civil war will break out, or if the commies are gonna invade us - says it’ll be one or the other. You know that China already said they were gunning for us, don’t you?” he queried, before quickly adding, “They best not come around here. We’re ready for ‘em. Got twenty thousand rounds for each rifle. And I’m a pretty good shot too. We all are. As soon as we were old enough to get a bit of sense in us, Daddy gave us our first rifle - a .22. Got mine when I was seven. Killed that eight-pointer on the wall there when I was nine,” he said, proudly pointing to the deer head over his bed.

Sonny then disappeared into his closet.

“Hey, Sam,” Katie drawled huskily, having slipped into the room unnoticed.

The hunter turned around.

Dressed in black short-shorts and a tight-fitting pink tank top, Sonny’s eldest sibling leaned against the wall, smiling provocatively at the younger Winchester.

“Oh, hey, Katie,” he answered, giving her a warm smile.

“How’re you doing today?”

“I’m okay,” he answered politely.

Sonny sprung out of the closet with a spear gun in hand. “Can’t you read?” he barked, pointing the weapon at the sign on the door. “Get your estrogen ass outta here!”

“Don’t be so rude,” Katie snapped back, her face twisted in anger. She looked back at Sam, her facial expression instantly softening. “We’ve got company.”

Sam scratched his head and turned away, stifling his laughter. He thought it was cute that he was the recipient of Katie’s infatuation, though the feeling wasn’t mutual.

“Girl, you best get out of my room - ” threatened Sonny before his sister cut off his sentence.

“ - Or what? What the hell is your punk ass gonna do? Hit me? I dare you,” she hissed back with her hands on her hips, looking coldly at her brother.

The boy took a deep breath. “Why don’t you go shine your tiara or put on some more make-up?” he shot back. He stepped closer to his sister. “And don’t think I ain’t noticed that you’re wearing your push-up bra! Sam’s not impressed by those boobies of yours.”

Katie’s face turned beet red. She turned on her heal and stormed out of the bedroom, screeching, “BASTARD!” at the top of her lungs.

Shaking his head, Sonny turned to Sam, who was no longer muffling his laughter. “Embarrass ‘em,” said the boy with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Works every time!” He then handed the spear gun to the agent. “I’ve got two of these,” he stated, returning to the closet for the additional weapon. “Gonna bring this too,” the kid added, waving a flare gun in his other hand. “Alright, I think we’re set.”

Sam followed Sonny out of the room. The hunter could sense Katie slinking in the shadows of the corridor behind them.

A few minutes later, both young men were back in the truck, heading to the place on the Washita River where the first body had been found the year before…



Dean was beginning to regain consciousness. The throbbing in his shoulders increased in intensity as his senses awakened. He groaned softly, feeling groggy, his mind fuzzy. The hunter felt as if he was coming off a major bender, or had had a roofie slipped into a drink that he had no recollection of drinking.

The pain receptors in his arms were now going off, amplifying his discomfort. He tried to clamber to his feet, but had difficulty finding his footing. Ropes were digging into the flesh of both his ankles and wrists. As he became more alert, he could feel that his arms were raised above his head. He tried to lower them, to relieve the stress on his shoulders, but they wouldn’t budge.

He had to get on his feet. That was the only way he would be able to lessen the pain. Dean’s eyelids felt like heavy weights. At that moment, he didn’t have the energy to pop them open. Instead, he focused his attention on his feet. The floor was quite slippery, making it extremely difficult to find his footing. After several attempts, he was able to stand, easing the tension in his shoulders.

Now that his physical pain had lessened, the elder Winchester couldn’t help but notice the sickening stench that invaded his nostrils. He knew that smell all to well - rotting flesh.

Dare he peek an eye open?

No, not yet, he answered in his mind.

Dean held his breath, listening intently. He could hear the sound of what he perceived to be droplets of water splashing in a pool. The sound seemed to echo around him.

He shivered. Goose bumps covered his naked flesh. Breathing quickly, his mind racing, his heart thumping madly, he worked backwards in his mind, trying to figure out how he had landed in his current predicament.

“That bitch,” he growled, remembering the hot, redheaded chick, Cherry. His voice bounced from wall to wall.

Anger replaced fear. His eyes darted open. Dean found himself in a cave, standing on a flat ridge of rock that encircled a rather large pool of water. The only light came from the nearly two dozen torches bracketed to the rock wall. The flames cast the hollow in a dim glow.

His eyes lingered on the pool. Dozens and dozens of what looked to be some type of whitish-yellow islands of gooey substance floated on the water’s surface. Due to the dimness of the chamber, he couldn’t clearly make out what they were. Droplets of water fell from the stalactites above, rippling the pool and gently rocking the islands of glistening goo.

The elder Winchester’s gaze left the pool, searching for some obvious escape route. His hope was quickly shattered when he spotted many bodies in various stages of decomposition.

His eyes stopped on the corpse of a man nearby. His body leaned against a stalagmite. The face had already become hollow, sunken. Only a thin, decaying layer of skin covered his skull. One of the man’s skeletal hands rested between his legs, his gonads gone.

“Fuck me!” Dean groaned under his breath, realizing how dire the situation was. He was to be the next victim! The bitch was gonna take his junk!

“Not if I can help it,” he answered aloud, his voice echoing within the cave.

With his determination renewed, Dean’s eyes went to the metal ring to which his bound hands were attached. He began rubbing the nylon rope against the metal, hoping that maybe a slight imperfection in the metal would help snap the rope in two, one fiber at a time.

After a couple of minutes, his arms ached so badly, he stopped.

Panting, he then called out, “Cas! Cas! I need you! Help me, man! Please! Pretty please with sugar on top!”

His pleas merely bounced against the cave’s walls, seemingly mocking him.

“Damn it! There’s never an angel when you need one,” he grumbled in discontent.

Refusing to give up hope, the hunter focused his attention back on the rope and the ring. He convinced himself that if he didn’t stop, the friction would eventually cause the rope to break.

Though his arms ached in protest, he continued to rub the bindings rapidly against the metal. He growled from the pain, forcing himself to continue.

Then he heard it. He turned his eyes toward the pool. Bubbles began to rise to the water’s surface.

“Shit!” he said, grimacing. Trying his best to ignore the pain, his bound hands moved faster and faster. Sweat streamed down his naked body. His eyes constantly darted from the ring over his head to the pool, knowing that that bitch was about to break the water’s surface.

Cherry shot out of the water, so much so that Dean could see her where her human form met her fish-like lower extremities.

“Hello, cutie patootie,” she said sweetly, effortlessly gliding across the water amid the floating islands of goo.

“Drop dead, mer-bitch!” shot back Dean, still attempting to free himself from the ropes.

“Now, now, that’s no way to talk to the future mother of your children,” she answered.

Her words shocked the hunter so much that he stopped moving. Attempting to protect his loins, he twisted his lower body toward the wall, and snapped back with, “The hell you say!”

“Oh, I say, darling.”

Just then, the water bubbled in several more places. Dean’s eyes scanned the bubbling spots on the pool, knowing that more of the creature’s companions were about to join them.

“Fuck me,” he groaned, his eyes widening in panic.

“Oh, no, sweetie. Our bodies aren’t compatible for sex. I just need your seed to fertilize my eggs,” she answered with a smile, waving a hand toward the gooey floating islands.

“Shit!” he whimpered, as a dozen of the mermaid’s companions’ heads popped out of the water…