Chapter 389 — The Cabin in the Woods
"Reese… is that you?" Officer Hobbes demanded into the phone.
"…"
No response came from the other end.
No matter what Hobbes said, the caller remained silent.
Nothing but dead stillness.
After several long moments, Hobbes finally lowered the phone and hung up in frustration.
"It has to be that creature," Hobbes said grimly.
"You mentioned before that it kept calling you," Frank said. "Has it ever called your cellphone before?"
"No. It always called the landline at my house." Hobbes shook his head.
"And more importantly, this cellphone number is brand new. I only got it a couple of days ago. Aside from my family and coworkers, nobody else should know it."
"In fact, it's not just my cellphone. I've changed my home number several times too, but every single time, the creature still manages to call me."
"That thing can possess people," Sam said. "If it's jumping into your coworkers, changing numbers won't help."
"I think the creature has been staying close to you this whole time," Dean added with a frown. "Watching you."
"Can you think of anyone around you who's been acting strange? Someone who might be possessed?"
"I don't know…" Hobbes tried to recall recent events before slowly shaking his head.
"But lately, I have had this constant feeling… like someone's watching me."
"I even felt it on the way back here tonight."
"Looks like the creature already knows about us," Dean muttered.
"Wait," Sam suddenly said, remembering something. "Earlier you said the creature only calls you right after it kills someone. Which means…"
"Someone else just died." Hobbes clenched his jaw.
"You really shouldn't be going anywhere alone from now on," Frank said seriously.
At daybreak, the four men left the hotel and split into two teams.
Dean and Officer Hobbes headed to the police station to continue investigating the latest victim killed by the creature—and to search for the missing Eddie.
Frank and Sam, meanwhile, drove out to investigate the cabin in the mountains.
"This should be the place…" Frank said as he parked the car.
The two stepped out and looked at the dilapidated cabin before them.
The cabin sat deep in the mountains, isolated from civilization. For miles around, there was nothing but forest and wilderness.
Though calling it a "cabin" was underselling it a bit.
The structure had two floors, plus a separate shed-like building nearby. It was practically a small villa hidden in the woods.
Cabins like this were classic horror movie settings.
But in reality, they were extremely common in rural America.
Many families built cabins in the mountains or forests as vacation homes—places to spend a few quiet days surrounded by nature, grilling outdoors, hunting with rifles, fishing by a creek, and relaxing away from the city.
You didn't need to be rich to own one.
Even ordinary families could build a cabin in the woods, and nobody really cared whether it technically violated construction codes or not.
Take Eddie, for example.
He also owned a small cabin in the mountains outside Chicago. His wasn't nearly this large, but he kept fishing gear and supplies there and would occasionally disappear for a few days whenever he wanted to be alone.
That was why, in many Western movies and TV shows, characters lost in the wilderness often stumbled upon abandoned cabins stocked with survival supplies.
To outsiders, it might look like absurd plot armor.
But in America, cabins like these genuinely existed everywhere.
The one before them, however, had clearly been abandoned for decades.
After the old police officer committed suicide here, his family never returned.
Time had reduced the cabin to near ruin.
The wood looked rotten.
The roof was buried beneath layers of fallen leaves.
Tall weeds and wild grass swallowed the ground around it.
"You sure this thing isn't going to collapse?" Frank muttered while staring at the cabin skeptically.
"It's still solid," Sam said, walking over and pounding hard against the wall twice. "Won't fall apart."
"Let's head inside."
The two entered the cabin.
Furniture still remained inside, though everything was coated in thick dust and scattered leaves. Every now and then, insects crawled across the floorboards.
Flashlights in hand, they began searching for clues.
"So… how did you meet my dad?" Sam asked casually while rummaging through drawers.
Sam knew most of John Winchester's friends.
Frank, however, was someone he had never met before this case.
"A monster," Frank replied simply. "A shapeshifter. It tried to kill me. Your dad and Dean saved my life."
"Dean told me about that case," Sam said. "It was his first solo hunt."
Frank nodded, then asked, "I heard about you too. Dean said you left hunting behind and went to college."
"Yeah." Sam's expression dimmed slightly. "I quit. Didn't want anything to do with hunting anymore. My dad eventually agreed."
"I always thought monster hunting was your family business," Frank said casually.
"Maybe now it is," Sam replied. "But it didn't start that way."
"Ever since I was little, Dean and I were dragged into this life. Dean adapted to it pretty naturally… but I hated it."
Sam paused for a moment before continuing.
"When I was a kid, I told my dad I was scared of the things in my closet. Thought there were monsters under my bed. I couldn't sleep without the lights on."
"In a normal family, a father would comfort his kid. Maybe sit beside him until he calmed down."
"You know what my dad did?"
"What?" Frank asked curiously.
"He handed me a .45 pistol and told me to shoot the monster if I saw one."
Sam let out a bitter laugh.
"I was nine years old."
Frank fell silent.
"Our upbringing was seriously messed up," Sam continued. "My dad had no idea how to raise children."
"Dean says he wasn't always like that. Apparently, before my mom died, he was a normal father."
"But after she was killed by a monster… everything changed."
"Our family wasn't some ancient bloodline of hunters. Hunting started with my father."
"He swore he'd find the thing that killed my mother."
"But we never found it. No clues. Nothing."
Sam lowered his eyes.
"And since we couldn't find that monster… we just started killing every other monster we could find."
It was obvious these feelings had been buried inside him for years.
Sam carried deep resentment toward John Winchester.
Which was why, unlike Dean, he eventually walked away from the hunting life instead of continuing to follow his father across the country chasing monsters.
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