Chapter 492

Dean rushed into the bathroom, turned to the sink and retched with his throat shut. Sam also hurried over and patted him hard on the back.

After a long time, Dean's whole face was red and his eyes were raised high. When it seemed that he was about to explode, he "vomited" and finally ejected a mouthful of blood from his mouth.

"Pa", there is something hard in the blood.

Dean staggered back a few steps, sat down powerlessly on the ground and gasped: "Damn, it's not my internal organs..."

Sam frowned, took out a square thing from the bloody sink, washed it with water, and found that it was a piece of wood the size of a fingernail.

"What is 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?"

Sam looked at Dean suspiciously. Dean quickly waved his hand: "I'm crazy. Go eat that thing?"

Sam helped Dean out of the bathroom, threw him on the sofa and looked around with the piece of wood: "this thing... Seems to have peeled off from something. You see, there are traces of friction on it."

Dean covered his mouth and didn't have a good airway: "of course, there are signs of friction. After all, it was sprayed out of my throat."

"No, the friction mark should have been on it long ago, unless you have a steel plate in your throat." Sam rubbed the wood chip with his fingers and affirmed, "it's definitely rubbed out on a hard object. The mark is very deep."

Dean said lazily“ Even so, how can we investigate with this piece of wood alone? Unless this town produces this kind of wood chips. "

Sam was stunned, suddenly looked at Dean and said in a deep voice, "remember the richest man in the dead town? Under his family estate, there is a small wood processing factory. "

Dean sat up, frowned and said, "go on."

Sam continued: "when I met the sheriff today, I chatted with other police officers in the police station. I heard that there was a wood processing factory in the town, and many town residents worked in the factory. Unfortunately, with the economic crisis, the richest man had to close the factory, but he paid a subsidy before closing, so the town residents didn't have much fun. "

"But just a month ago, the richest man suddenly restarted the wood processing factory and recruited many town residents. Unfortunately, with the sudden death of the richest man, the factory was closed again."

Dean took the block from Sam: "you think there's something wrong with that factory."

Sam shrugged. "At least one clue."

Dean thought for a moment and threw the chip back to Sam: "well, let's go and have a look tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Go now and see your physical condition. I'm afraid you can't delay any more. " Sam stood up and shouted, "this time it's wood flakes. What's next time? Machine tools? "

Dean looked at the window. It was dark outside. "But it's night."

"So what?"

"It's not safe to go out at night."

"We've done countless missions at night before. Do you feel unsafe now?"

Dean also stood up and said solemnly, "I just wanted to talk to you about this problem, Sammy. Don't you think our work is too dangerous? Exorcism? It doesn't matter what we do. Look at the life we live now. It's not a normal life at all. "

Sam said coldly, "I know you're ill now, Dean, so I won't quarrel with you. Now I'll investigate the factory. As for you... Do you like to come or not? "

Dean snorted coldly, "I won't go."

In an hour.

Dean sneaked out of the car with a flashlight and looked around vigilantly.

"Let me say first. I'm not afraid. I'm just worried about the danger of you coming alone."

"Well, well, you've repeated this sentence on the road more than 800 times."

Sam shook his head reluctantly and opened the trunk. The spacious trunk is filled with all kinds of arms and weapons.

"No, this is yours."

Looking at the pistol in front of him, Dean was stunned and then shook his head: "this thing is too dangerous for me to bang."

Sam said helplessly, "it's filled with salt bullets, which can't kill people. What's more, what if there's danger in the factory?"

"That's not good. In case of fire, it hurts to hit you." Dean gripped the flashlight. "I'll just use this."

"Whatever you want."

Sam knew that Dean could no longer communicate with normal people. He turned his mouth, took a shotgun and walked into the wood processing plant in front of Dean one after another.

The police officers were right. There were fresh wheel traces in the hospital. It was obvious that goods had been shipped here a few days ago. Judging from the tire marks, the truck is still heavy.

Sam frowned as like as two peas and picked up a piece of wood from the ground. He found that the wood chip spitting out with Dean was almost the same in Dean's flashlight.

Except there are no serious friction marks on it.

It can be confirmed that this is definitely related to the fear virus circulating in the town.

Sam's eyes twinkled with surprise and led Dean carefully into the factory. The factory was in a mess. It was obvious that there had been looting here before the closure. It was estimated that it was done by workers who knew they were going to lose their jobs again.

Dean followed Sam and looked around vigilantly with a flashlight. Suddenly he saw a tall dark figure in the corner of the wall, which made his whole body tremble. Then he lay on Sam's shoulder and didn't dare to see it.

"It's all right. It's just a canvas."

Sam had no choice but to come forward and stretch out his hand to pull down the canvas. He found that under the canvas were two stacked wooden boxes. The wooden boards on the wooden box have not been ordered. Strictly speaking, they have not been completed. Perhaps because of this, no one has robbed them.

Sam patted the wooden box and smiled at Dean, "how's it going, are you okay?"

Dean nodded with a pale face and looked more nervously to the left and right. In the light of his light, Sam suddenly saw a note under the wooden box.

"Dilocliff Town Collection..."

Sam looked at the handwriting on the note and frowned.

Then Dean suddenly backed away from Sam and said in a deep voice, "someone is coming."

Sure enough, the window of the broken workshop lit up a dazzling light, and someone did come.

When someone comes to this damn place at this time, he certainly doesn't want to do good.

Sam quickly pulled dean to hide behind a machine tool and looked out carefully.

Fortunately, when I stopped, I parked the Chevrolet impala on the path across the road. It was dark. It was estimated that the visitor should not have found it.

With a bang, the door of the workshop was pulled open.

A man staggered in, and then Sam saw each other in the light of the lights outside the window.

It's the town sheriff.

He was wearing ragged clothes and was scratched with nails everywhere. He carried a shotgun in his left hand and a gasoline barrel in his right hand.

"He wants to destroy the corpse and the scene?"

Sam shook the shotgun in his handshake. His gun contained salt that could repel the spirit, not real bullets. If he sprays against the sheriff, he can't spray him.

"What can I do?"

Sam looked at the sheriff who came in and splashed gasoline around, gritted his teeth, reached out to ladian, ready to attract the sheriff's attention and let Dean take the opportunity to shoot down the sheriff.

However, he pulled a few times, and Dean hiding behind him didn't respond. Sam had no choice but to look back, but Dean looked in the other direction, his mouth wide open, and he couldn't make a sound.