The Jersey Devil (14 page)

Norm didn't doubt the big man could do it.

Daryl pleaded with his grandfather. “Come on, Boompa, we got this close.”

“No, this is too much. I think we know what those marks mean now. They mean that the Devil can find you when you're in the Barrens. There's no need to ever come back here. I see that now. Your grandmother wouldn't want you to be here like this.”

“But what about the people these things have been attacking?” Daryl said.

“Norm's right. We'll report it to the police. Maybe someone will be able to verify the video he took is real. They can handle it.”

Norm was jumping out of his skin. He wanted to scream at them, tell them to get their asses in gear. They could debate the merits of staying or going when they were miles out of Jersey.

“This is bullshit,” April spat, head downcast, kicking at the embers of last night's fire. Norm couldn't believe either the bravery of the Willet kids or their sheer stupidity.

Daryl went to the old Ford and placed his rifle inside. He took off his Mets cap, sweeping back his hair. “Boompa's right. Grams would freak if she could see us now.”

That seemed to bring everyone back to the reality of the situation. Shoulders were lowered and protests cut short. Norm wanted to throw his arms around Daryl's hulking frame.

“All right,” Bill said. “Let's see how fast we can pack this stuff up.”

The loud whoosh from above stopped them in mid-stride. Norm watched in paralyzed horror as the big Jersey Devil from before, along with several of the smaller ones, swept down, heading straight for them. Guns were raised, but before a shot could be taken, Daryl was plucked and lifted away like a cheap prize in a crane game.

“Hold your fire!” Ben shouted.

The wind must have been knocked out of him, because Daryl didn't so much as make a noise as he was carried up and away, floating over the treetops until he was simply gone.

“Daryl!” April screamed loud enough to bring a coppery taste to her mouth. It only took a few seconds for the Devil and its minions to rip her brother away. Hot tears stung her eyes.

Not sweet Daryl. Dear God, no
.

In his anger, Ben smashed the butt of his rifle onto the hood of the Ford, leaving a big dent. Her mother ran into her father's arms, sobbing.

Boompa walked in a tight circle, eyeing the breaks in the pines, the grip on his rifle so tight, his knuckles were pale. “You goddamn son of a bitch,” he kept muttering.

Even Norm had stopped packing his car. He leaned against it, deflated, a sail searching for a breeze.

April dug the small compass out of her pocket. “It was going northwest when it got out of the trees. We have to follow it.”

Ben and her father dug even more weapons out of the van. April took a bowie knife, Beretta and pair of stun grenades, the kind that made brilliant flashes of light coupled with a nerve-jangling bang, along with her rifle. She then loaded backpacks with food, water and other provisions.

“I hope you can understand why we can't lead you out of here,” Boompa said to Norm. “If you turn around and stay on course, you should hit the main road after a spell.”

April stopped what she was doing when she heard Norm reply, “I'm staying with you.”

“You don't have to. This is between my family and those things,” Boompa said.

“No. I w-want to help. You're going to need all you can g-get. I can't just leave you all and be able to live with myself. Not after that.”

“You'll need a gun. You know how to shoot?” Boompa said.

“I do. I grew up h-hunting with my father. I bring a rifle with me w-when I'm out in the f-field. People think I bring them to defend myself against the creatures I t-t-track, but it's the known animals that scare me the most.”

April gave Norm a rifle and hunting knife. “Here,” she said. “They're Daryl's.” She felt the hitch in her chest and fought to keep it down. She tried picturing where he could be at this moment, what he was feeling. The terror must have been overwhelming. If she thought about it too much, she knew she would break down.

Turning to her older brother, for the first time fully appreciating his combat experience rather than blaming it for changing him, she said, “You think we can take the vans that way?”

Ben walked the perimeter of the clearing. “It doesn't look like it. The road, if that's what you call what we drove on to get here, stops here. Boompa, you recall what's this way?”

His jaw flexed from biting on his back teeth. “A whole lot of nothing. There may be some farms or homesteads, but just as likely there are bogs and empty flatlands. The way they were headed is strange territory.”

Ben paced back and forth, thinking. “We need to split up, but stay close to one another. When we find where the Devil's taken Daryl, it would be better if we can flank it, maybe even take it by surprise.”

Her father said, “If we do that, you stay with Norm and Boompa. I'll take your mother and sister.” He tossed him a walkie-talkie. “Keep it low but check in every five minutes.

“Do you think it . . . it . . .” her mother sputtered.

Boompa put an arm around her. “No, dear, I think Daryl's okay. If it wanted to harm him, it would have done it right away, just like it did with those Pineys. It's smart as hell. It wants us to follow it.”

April had that same feeling, and it twisted in her guts. Hunting a creature that acted on base instincts was one thing. Trying to track an intelligent animal that seemed to be one step ahead of them the entire time was the definition of a dire situation.

She gave a knife to her mother, helping affix the sheath to the loop in her jeans. “Just in case,” she said. Her mother nodded, eyes vacant, and kissed the top of her head like she used to when she was a little girl.

“No more wasting time,” her father said. He shoved three sticks of Big Red gum in his mouth, chewing loudly.

They separated the moment they entered the pines, Ben leading the way for Boompa and Norm, her father's enormous bulk making it clear for her and her mother to follow.

April couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched the entire time. She imagined a tingle in her birthmark, the damned thing sending out a signal to the Jersey Devil that said, “
Here we are. See? We're right where you want us to be
.”

* * *

Sean was starting to love the day shift. After a year of nights, always straining to see in the dark, his senses as raw as exposed flesh, he was finally able to relax . . . a little bit. At least he was able to see someone coming from a good distance and he wasn't jumping at every noise. At nights, he would swear Mother Nature was doing her damnedest to give him a heart attack.

“Yo, Louis, you got any of those beers left?”

His partner emerged from the small, two-man cabin, scratching at his head. Sean could see his dandruff floating in the shafts of early morning sunlight.

“Check for yourself,” Louis said. “Are you that fucked up that you gotta start drinking in the morning now?”

They had an old, metal cooler, a real throwback from the '70s, beside the cabin. Sean pulled back the metal bar that kept the lid on. The ice had melted to tepid water, but there were still a few cans of Bud floating around like miniature life rafts. He took a swig of warm beer and belched, startling a bird perched in the tree over the cabin.

“You know what they say?”

Louis waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, it's five o'clock somewhere. But that doesn't make it five o'clock here.”

“You can blame that damn graveyard shift. This is normally the time I spent relaxing with a few drinks so I could get some sleep. Give me a few more weeks to get my biorhythm back in normal mode.”

“Biorhythm? You're full of more shit than a ten-ton horse.” Louis went back into the cabin to lie on the solitary cot. There was no need to have two sets of eyes on the marijuana plants. Not now. A person would have to either be demented or possess a death wish to traipse on in here in the cold light of day, looking to sneak off with a plant or two. This section of the farm had five hundred plants. Talking to some of the other guys hired to guard the farm, Sean had heard there may have been up to ten thousand plants across several plots of hidden land. Bruce Dyson, the big boss, wasn't about to tell any of them the full scope of the operation. That was fine by Sean. The less he knew the better.

“Shows how smart you are, dumbass,” Sean said to the retreating Louis. “There's no such thing as a ten-ton horse.”

Louis sighed so loudly, it could be heard outside. “I have a feeling you're going to wear me out real fast. Maybe I'll ask for the graveyard shift.”

The cot creaked as he settled in, dropping an open
High Society
magazine over his face.

“You can have it,” Sean said. “I'm never going back. If Dyson tries to screw me, I'm outta here.”

He stepped off the narrow porch, tilting his face to the sun, enjoying the warmth as it spread down to his feet. It'd only been a week, but he'd managed to get a killer tan, though it stopped at his elbows. No matter. He needed all the vitamin D he could get. He heard on the radio that everyone lacked D and it was the reason people were so sick all the time.

The plants waved back at him as the wind skipped over the farm encased within the ubiquitous pine trees. Word was that Dyson had some men on the take in the local PD, which is why police helicopters somehow never reported the obvious pot farm when they flew overhead. This shit was big business, which was why people like him and Louis were on guard 24/7 with instructions to shoot first and bury later. No questions need be asked. What was the point?

Opening his eyes, the sun seared its image on his retinas. Wincing, he slammed his eyelids shut. “That was real smart.” Rubbing at his eyes, he said with a chuckle, “I've been blinded by the light. Hey, you hear that, Louis? I was blinded by the light!”

His weary partner didn't make an effort to respond. Killjoy.

When he could open his eyes again, he had to wipe away a layer of protective tears. His vision was still blurry.

He caught a glimpse of something big flying over the eastern section of the farm. It couldn't be a hawk. It looked more like a helicopter in the distance, but he'd have been able to hear it if it was close enough to see.

If that was the case, he and Louis would have to make a choice—try to shoot it down with the meager arsenal at their disposal, or run like jackrabbits into the woods. If they chose the latter, he'd stop at his apartment long enough to grab the gym bag where he kept his money and disappear. If the Feds didn't catch him, Dyson would.

“Louis, get the hell out here! We may have
federales
.”

“I told you not to start drinking so early,” Louis cried out from the cabin. It was obvious he wasn't moving his lazy ass.

Sean blinked hard, trying to get his eyes to focus.

Wait, that couldn't be a helicopter. Now he saw smaller things flying around it. Maybe it was the humdinger of all hawks with a bunch of birds doing their best to irritate it. He grabbed his rifle and jogged over to get a closer look. He wished he had a scope so he could get a better look and tell for sure what it was. It might have even been balloons twisting in the wind. Some kid was sure going to be upset when she saw her birthday balloons had up and left for good. Poor kid.

He stepped on a thick twig. The snap was remarkably loud. It must have been dry as ass to crack like that. It had been a while since he'd seen rain.

Sean froze when he noticed the things in the air had stopped moving. It was as if they had heard it, too, and were now very aware of his presence.

They started moving in his direction, flying lower. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he strained to see what the hell he was dealing with here.

All at once, everything came into focus. Sean felt last night's dinner struggle to make its way out his tail end.

The small things weren't birds. At best, they were deformed bats. But it looked like they had tails.

And the big one, holy Christ. It was carrying a person, some poor guy who looked dead, which was a mercy. The creatures were flying real fast now.

There was no doubt they were heading right for him!

Sean raised his rifle, pulling off several shots at the big one. It zigzagged with ease, evading the bullets.

“Louis! Louis!”

Sean turned and ran as fast as he could. Now that they were closer, he could hear the steady beating of their long, leathery wings. The cabin was just twenty yards away. He kept shouting for his partner. Any second now, they would be on him.

Louis walked out rubbing his eyes. “What the hell, man?”

Sean saw the look of horror on Louis's face and knew he was done. Something snipped at his ear, taking a chunk out of it. Sean screamed, clamping his hand over his ear.

It felt like a pair of ice picks stabbed into the front and back of his skull. Suddenly, he was no longer running. No, he was flying, blood pouring into his eyes. He dropped his rifle, swinging at the little serpent things as they nibbled at him, dangling in midair.

He heard the bone of his skull give way as the pressure built to an agonizing and final crescendo.

* * *

Louis saw the creature clamp its jaws around Sean's head and lift him into the air. The thing was already carrying another guy, his limp body dangling.

“Shit shit shit!”

Sean was a goner. He saw his partner's head cave in. There was nothing he could do to save him.

Louis ran back into the cabin, slamming the door and jamming the cot against it. He fumbled for his rifle, clutching it to his chest.

He'd be damned if those things didn't look just like the Jersey Devil. Being from Baltimore, he hadn't grown up with the legend, but he knew plenty of locals who believed in the creature whole hog. Now he was sorry he'd doubted them.

The Devils screeched for a while, their cries fading as they flew away.

There were no windows in the cabin, so he had no way of knowing where they'd gone or if they were still around, silently circling overhead.

I'll just wait them out,
he thought.
Marv and Craig will be here around four. I can chill the fuck out until then.

The one thing he did know was that he wasn't going back out there, not when he was alone. If those Jersey Devils or whatever they were didn't leave, he'd have a better chance with Marv and Craig around. They were both ex Special Forces and not exactly right in the head. They might even enjoy blasting them out of the sky like it was a duck hunt.

He'd just have to sit things out. Sure, it was dark as a tomb in here, but it was safe.

To kill time, he could play Asphalt 8 on his iPhone. Right now, his hands were shaking so bad, he worried that he'd just drop the phone.

“Just cool it. They got Sean, but you're okay. You're okay.”

The roof exploded downward. Louis was hit in the shoulder by a heavy plank of wood. Something thumped heavily on the floor and made a sound like a watermelon exploding. Harsh light shot through the new skylight in the cabin. Louis fumbled for his rifle.

He recoiled when he saw Sean's mangled body twisted within the roof 's rubble. The white of his fractured skull had split through his scalp. Louis felt something wet on the back of his hand. Looking down, he saw a smear of Sean's brain.