The Jersey Devil (11 page)

Carol Willet leaned as close as she could to the dead creature without touching it. The smell coming off the shredded thing was incredible. Norm Cranston was crouched opposite her, snapping pictures with his phone.

“What about the others?” she asked.

Her husband and sons had been searching the ground for the remains of the other winged creatures while April and Boompa kept a watch out for another wave of attacks.

“They're too messed up to tell,” Ben said. “Though there is one with half a face and it sure doesn't look like that.”

“From what I can tell, we nailed four altogether,” Bill said. His heavy footfalls stomped beside Carol. “At least that's four less we have to deal with.”

Norm shook his head in dismay. “Yes, but that's four out of how many? I've never even imagined anything like it—and I've spent my life looking for shit like this! Do you realize the implications of what we're f-facing?”

April took a moment to refill the empty chambers of her pistol. She'd been unnerved when everything started, but she was in control now. Of all her children, Carol worried about April the least. She was stronger than even her own father suspected.

The Jersey Devil in front of Carol was every bit the legendary creature, only in miniature form. Yes, the face bore more of a resemblance to a small child than a horse, but everything else was just as people had been describing the beast since Mother Leeds had cried out and given birth to the monster in the 1700s. This thing was so bizarre, she wouldn't be surprised to find it shared traits with a fish or mountain lion. It was a mishmash of so many different animals, maybe it shared some sort of DNA with monkeys, which would explain that pale, hairless face.

Thinking about flying monkeys veered her mind toward Oz. She shook it away. This was no child's fantasy.

“It does make sense that there are offspring,” Boompa said. He held the barrel of his rifle over his left forearm. “Nothing on earth is immortal, not even something that we'd consider a resident from hell. To be around this long, it would have to procreate. I guess it's just been slightly busier than normal.”

Norm jogged to his car, returning with a clear plastic bag.

Carol reached out to see what the wrinkled flesh of the creature felt like. Norm stopped her with a light tap on the wrist.

“Sorry,” he said, catching Bill's hard stare. “There are short, coarse hairs all over its body. There's no telling what infection you'll get if one of those hairs gets under your skin. I also don't want you to contaminate the sample.”

“Thanks for stopping me,” Carol said. “I'm not too crazy about the idea of catching some Jersey Devil disease.”

“From what I can see, these things are breathing diseases,” Daryl said. He chugged down a bottle of water, pouring some on top of his Mets cap.

Norm laid the bag over the creature, then plucked the limp body up through the bag, turning it inside out so the remains were now inside. It was a struggle, droplets of his sweat pattering against the plastic. Grunting, he tied the end with a triple knot. “I need to get this thing on ice.”

Everyone looked to the two coolers. Ben said, “I'll empty the smaller one into the big Coleman.” Sticking his rifle butt into the ground, he flipped the tops off of each cooler and started transferring drinks and food.

Norm held the full bag in front of him. “You're right, Sam. In order for the species to survive, whatever species this belongs to, it's had to mate. Seeing this, I don't believe its ancestor ever came from a woman, no matter how loudly she cursed its existence. This . . . this is j-just incredible. I never thought something could live undiscovered in New Jersey until you took us to the lookout tower. After that and seeing these things, if you t-t-told me dinosaurs were roaming around I might believe you.”

Boompa eyed him curiously. “You're not upset that we had to break a few eggs to get your specimen, are you?”

Norm's eyes were glazed. “With the way they were dive-bombing us, I wouldn't have stopped you for all the money in Vegas.” He placed the body in the cooler. Ben shut the lid with his boot.

“So, what do we do now?” Carol said. While everyone was concentrating on the body or looking out for more living Devils, she'd noticed that their tents had been shredded to ribbons.

Bill followed her gaze and said, “We sleep in the vans. I'll bring them closer together. We'll take turns on watch, two people to a shift, one in each car. Ben and I can take the first shift.”

Carol caressed his cheek. “Oh, no, you're taking it easy. That's no small amount of blood you lost, and you're going to feel pretty weak once April gets done sewing you up.”

She looked over to Norm, making a note to clean the bloody scratch on his head.

“Yeah, Dad,” April said, tucking the gun into her back pocket. “We should do that now. Boompa, you want to pass me that bottle of Maker's Mark you keep in the Ford?”

“What bottle of Maker's Mark?” he said. April narrowed her gaze at him, her hands on her hips. He was the first to break their staring contest. “Yes, I'll get it.”

Carol suspected the old coot was having a snort every now and then. The question had always been where he stashed his booze. She should have known it was in his beloved van.

“Hey, Daryl, take some bottles of water for the minivan, in case anyone gets thirsty,” Ben said, tossing a plastic bottle at his brother. Daryl snagged it in midair.

The boys went about preparing their sleeping quarters, bringing small inflatable pillows and blankets into the vans. Ben said, “I'll stay in the Ford with Boompa and Norm. You guys take the minivan. April, you want to take first watch?”

“I'm on it,” she said, breaking out the sewing kit they kept with the box of first-aid supplies. Boompa gave her the half-empty bottle of Maker's Mark. She poured most of it on the ragged wound on her father's arm. Bill hissed. His hand jerked away, the wrist turning as if someone were twisting it. “You can drink the rest, Dad. You'll need it.”

He flashed a grin that would make trick-or-treaters head for the hills. “Just make it fast. It doesn't have to be pretty.”

April raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I know Mom likes a rugged man. The more scars the better, right, Mom?”

“I've always dreamt of being married to Frankenstein,” Carol replied. Looking at the flayed flesh on Bill's arm gave her sympathetic pain. She held a flashlight over his arm so April could see better. To her credit, her daughter was fast with the needle. When she was done, he did indeed knock back the two shots that were left in the bottle.

“Thanks, hon,” he said, inspecting her work. Tiny bubbles of flesh protruded between the knots. “We should all get inside now, before those things come back. Maybe they won't bother with their kamikaze routine if they can't see us.”

No one argued with him. Despite their being jazzed by the attack, they were also tired as hell. Carol could already feel her eyelids starting to droop. She helped her sons put the fire out, pouring ice water on the embers. The less they stood out in the forest, the better. Unless those things could see in the dark, or possessed echolocation like bats. She shivered at the thought.

She said good night to Ben, patting Boompa on the shoulder. She hated them being apart, but they would have been too cramped up in one vehicle. “You watch out for our boy,” she whispered to the old man.

He winked at her. “Hell, Carol, he'll be watching out for all of us.”

Ben sat straight in the driver's seat, eyes peeled on the trees. There was a hardness to his look that hadn't been there before he'd joined the service. Sometimes, when she caught him staring off, unaware that she was near, it scared her. What had he seen? Worse yet, what had he done? He hadn't said a word to anyone.

But Boompa was right. Her son would be the one protecting them. It made her proud as much as it broke her heart, not knowing or being able to heal the hidden wounds he carried with him day after day. Though, as odd as it seemed, he looked more in control right now, more himself, than he'd been in months.

Daryl and Norm had the last watch. They were the lucky ones who got to view the sun as it came up, chasing the darkness away. Being able to actually see made their shift much easier. The youngest Willet watched Norm rub his eyes in the Ford, his mouth open in a wide yawn.

Daryl's family slept behind him, his mother and father leaning against one another in the center row and April laid out in the third. She snored like a jackhammer.

His bladder demanded release. He quietly got out of the minivan, slowly closing the door. Tapping on the Ford's window, he said to Norm, “Come out for a sec and watch my back. I gotta pee.”

Norm clambered out, smartly keeping the rifle Ben had given him pointed at the ground. “Me, too,” he whispered. “I've been holding it in so long, it hurts.”

“I'll just go behind the van,” Daryl said. “Keep an eye out, okay? Hopefully, those things don't come out in the day so I can make a decent breakfast for everyone.”

“You're the family cook, huh?” Norm said, stroking his long goatee. There were heavy bags under his eyes.

“I prefer to be called the family chef. Cooks work at diners.”

Daryl chuckled as he disappeared behind the van. He unzipped and a river immediately poured out of him. It felt so good, his body tingled all over.

The air still clung to the night's coolness, but he could tell it was going to be another scorcher. When he was done, he motioned to Norm. “Batter up.”

“You mind holding on to my rifle?”

Daryl held his hand out.

He heard the heavy splash of Norm's stream while he looked around. It would be easy to find the other Devil bodies now. He was tempted to look, but thought it might be best done
after
he'd eaten. Seeing those dead critters might send his appetite for the hills.

Twirling around when he heard a branch snap, he said, “That you, Norm?”

The cryptozoologist's peeing cut short.

“Norm?”

Daryl's heart raced. He should wake his brother up now. Shit, he should wake everyone up now.

“Norm, is that you?”

He held his rifle level with his chest.

A woodpecker knocked furiously at a tree in the distance. He inched toward the back of the van. How could one of those things have gotten to him so fast, without him hearing it? Unless it was the head of the Jersey Devil family. No telling how big and stealthy it was.

Daryl tensed, nearly pulling the trigger when Norm popped into view. His arms were high up over his head.

“I'm not going to shoot you,” Daryl said, relaxing. “Though it would have helped if you'd answered me when I called out to you.”

The man's mouth opened but nothing came out.

“You okay?” Daryl asked.

Norm stumbled forward, nearly crashing into him.

Three men stepped out from behind the van, each leveling double-barreled shotguns at him. They wore dirty jeans and T-shirts, each with an olive vest, the pockets bulging with what Daryl could only guess. They looked to be his father's age, with faces weathered by time and toil.

“Put the gun down, son,” the man with the dirty Mobil Gas cap said. “I won't ask again.”

Daryl reluctantly did as he was told.

“Get everyone else out.”

Daryl shrugged his shoulders. “There aren't any others.”

The man with wiry shoulder-length hair and a week's worth of stubble shook his head. “Do you think we're idiots? There are three cars and two of you. Hurry up!”

His voice echoed and Daryl saw his father's face appear in the minivan's front window.

“Norm, you get my mother and father,” he said, knowing he had to warn Ben not to do anything rash. While Norm stumbled to the minivan, Daryl opened up the side door of the Ford. Ben must have heard the man's voice because he was wide awake, cradling the AR-15 in his arms.

“Not now,” Daryl mouthed. Ben took a moment to read his face, and seemed to understand. He laid the big gun down.

“Boompa, get up, we have company,” Daryl said, shaking his grandfather awake.

“What?” he grumbled. Then he turned and saw everyone else gathered outside. He bolted upright. “What's going on?”

“Some guys with guns just walked into our camp,” Daryl said. “Maybe they want to invite us to a potluck dinner.”

The men kept their shotguns pointed at everyone. Daryl knew those things were powerful. One blast could take two of them out. He thought he saw a wet stain on Norm's pants.

“You the ones doing all the shooting out here last night?” the one with the Mobil cap said.

No one answered.

The one that hadn't spoken yet, he wore a red bandana over his head, broke away, looking around. He used the barrel of his shotgun to poke through the leaves.

Daryl cast a quick glance at his father and Boompa, wondering which would be the first to talk. His father glowered at the men as if he hadn't a care that they could blow him away in the time it takes a fly to evade a swatter.

“I'm trying to be nice here,” Mobil cap said. “What I could have done is stormed out here last night and started shooting back at the people who were tearing up the place. None of you would be standing here now.”

It was Boompa who broke their silence. “I apologize for disturbing your peace. But we had a very good reason for it.”

“What reason was that, old-timer?”

“Ho!” the one with the bandana cried out. “They got one. Looks like more than one.”

Mobil cap said, “Everyone get against the van over there. I want you all standing nice and tight together. Ernie, you keep an eye on them.”

Ernie motioned to them with his shotgun to shuffle beside the Ford. Daryl wondered if his brother would use this moment to make a move, now that they only had one gun trained on them. He hoped to hell he wouldn't. Surely, someone would get shot or worse. But Ben had always been a little unpredictable. He was the one who carjacked his own limo in the middle of the prom so he could give his date, Kaitlin DelMonte, a two-hour joyride that ended with his father paying twice the rental fee to settle things down.

“Jesus Christ, there's parts of them all over the place.” Mobil cap exhaled. He looked at Daryl and his family with pure menace. “You brought them here! Because of you, I, I . . .”

The one with the bandana put a hand on Mobil cap's shoulder to settle him down. For a moment, Daryl thought the man was going to open fire on them. His father must have thought so, too, because he had positioned his body in front of them.

Mobil cap paced around their camp, muttering to himself. Daryl couldn't make out what he was saying, but judging by his tone, none of it was good. This was turning out to be a horror novel come to life—family goes camping, comes across backwoods Pineys and ends up in pieces in mason jars.

His only comfort was the strength of his family. They hadn't spent their lives prepping for worst-case scenarios for nothing.

“I want you all to see what you've done,” Mobil cap spat, pointing at them. “For every action, there's a reaction. You need to know the consequences of your actions. Ernie, Chris, line them up so we can show them.”

Daryl felt a heavy push at his back and was shoved into April. “Ow, Christ!” she yelped.

Chris, Mr. Red Bandana, pushed his shotgun into the small of his back. Daryl had to stop himself from spinning around and beating his face with his own weapon. It would be easy to execute and would certainly take the man by surprise.

But there were Ernie and Mobil cap, too, and Daryl didn't want anyone getting hurt.

They marched them into the brush, down what appeared to be an old game trail, headed to someplace Daryl was sure they'd rather not be.

The sun had burned away the last vestiges of the night's chill, already hanging low in the sky. Bill swatted a moth that buzzed around his head. He walked behind the man who looked like he wanted to shoot them. When he reached back to hold Carol's hand, the one called Chris shouted, “Hands to yourselves!”

How the hell did we end up in the middle of
Deliverance
?
Bill wondered. He knew all about the Pineys, thanks to Carol, especially the ones who had made it a point to stay off the grid. They must have strayed onto their land. Pineys didn't appreciate people setting up camp on their land, especially people who charged the night with gunshots.

“Where are you taking us?” Bill said, dropping his voice a couple of octaves lower than usual to maybe put a little bit of fear into them. Sure, they had the advantage now, but he wanted them to be clear that without those guns, he was not to be trifled with.

He looked at his watch. They'd been on the move for close to thirty minutes.

“You'll see soon enough,” their leader said.

“You got a name?”

The man didn't turn around when he surprisingly replied, “Joshua. And no, I don't give a rat's ass what your name is. Keep moving.”

Bill looked back to his father and kids. They all seemed to be holding up pretty well. April and Ben wore dark scowls. He could see they were planning something. Hell, they all were. Well, maybe not Norm, who looked about ready to shit himself.

They came to a break in the trees, giving way to an enormous green meadow. He thought he saw a house way in the distance. They had to crawl through the gaps of an old wooden fence to get to the meadow. Joshua leered as they made their way through the fence, Bill having an especially hard time because of his size.

“Almost there,” Joshua said.

The grass was especially tall by the fenced perimeter. Tiny white bugs leapt like rice on a hot skillet as they trudged along, lighting on their clothes before flicking back into the grass.

When they caught a stiff breeze blowing towards them, Bill's nostrils flared. The pungent odor that cascaded over them wasn't unfamiliar.

It was the smell of death, and it got worse the farther they walked into the meadow.

“You like that?” Joshua said. “You smell a dead animal, I smell something much more important. That's my livelihood rotting out there. You did that.”

“How could we do whatever you're accusing us of when we weren't even here?” Bill asked.

“You look like a smart man. I think you'll figure it out.”

They came upon the first carcass, a lone black-and-white cow on its side, its abdomen ripped open. The steady hum of feasting flies set his nerves on edge.

“Oh, my God,” Carol said, covering her mouth and nose with her hand.

The flesh of the cow's face had been peeled back. Its eye was missing, along with its tongue. The poor thing's hide looked as if it had served as a scratching post for a pride of lions. It had been utterly destroyed.

They stood around the cow, shotguns at their backs.

“It isn't pretty, is it?” Joshua said.

“I still don't see how you can blame us for this,” Bill said, though he was starting to put the pieces together and it was making his stomach clench awful fierce.

“Take a look around,” Ernie said.

When they looked up and past the disemboweled cow, they saw similar lumps of decaying flesh everywhere.

“No,” Boompa said. He sounded like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“I think I'm going to be sick,” Norm said. He bent over, clasping his hands on his knees, breathing heavily through his mouth.

Bill tried to count the dead cows. He lost track after twenty-five. There were probably others in areas they couldn't see.

“They got all of them,” Joshua lamented. “In just a few hours, I lost every head I owned.”

“Then you know what
they
are, right?” April asked.

Joshua's hand clenched and unclenched the shotgun. He said, “What I do know is that they've left us alone, until you all came along and brought them to us. I don't know how or why you did it, but those damn things took it out on my livestock.”

Bill held up his hands. “Look, we never intended anything like this to happen.”

Ernie barked, “I saw all those guns you have and it sure as shit seems to me you didn't come here with good intentions.”

“That's not what I mean. We came out here to find the Jersey Devil. We have our reasons. We didn't expect what happened last night, and despite what you saw, we weren't really prepared. I'm sorry that those things came here and murdered your cows. We're farmers ourselves, in upstate New York. I'll personally replace your cows.”

Joshua slowly shook his head, spitting at Big Bill's feet. “What's the point? They'll just come back and do it again. You cursed this place. We never gave the Devil any reason to sniff around here. Now that it and its offspring know we're easy pickings, we'll have to leave this place. My family's been here for seven generations. You gonna find us a new place to live, too?”

The man's face turned dangerously red. He was mad and scared and looking for someone to take his fury out on.

He let loose with a screeching whistle. A dozen heads popped up from hiding places in the field. Bill cringed when he realized they'd been ducking behind the foul-smelling cow carcasses. Four more men, a few women and children that could be no older than ten or twelve approached them. The adults held rifles. The children carried great cords of rope.