The Jersey Devil (23 page)

“So, what do we do now?”

Jane went still, her eyes rolling in their sockets as she either saw something in the sky or was on the verge of a full-on seizure.

Without warning, she slapped him across the face with the back of her hand.

“Go!” she said in a harsh whisper.

“Go? Where?”

She jabbed her finger at a pair of fallen trees, time and the elements melding them into one decaying mass.

Daryl grabbed his knife.

This time, he could actually hear something—the flapping of wings. He still couldn't see where it was coming from, but he agreed with her plan. He didn't want to be caught out in the open.

Ducking behind the trees, he peered over the top, eyes locked on Jane.

She raised her arms as if in a greeting. He looked up and saw the big daddy Jersey Devil slowly descending. It held a woman, her body limp.

Some of the smaller Devils touched down right next to it, another woman in their clutches. Both women lay on their backs, unmoving.

All Daryl could think was—
dinner?

He did not want to watch that. If they started gnawing on those women, he'd have to do something.

Jane suddenly screamed. “My babies!”

The Jersey Devil glowered at her, its crimson eyes soulless. It snorted at her, blowing her hair back. Its tail whipped out, catching Jane at her ankles. She tumbled into the sunken foundation without so much as a yelp of surprise.

Daryl's heart galloped faster than a frightened mare. His breath came in short, shallow gasps.

The Jersey Devil was only fifteen feet away.

And he had no idea what to do next.

Daniela awoke screaming. The last vestiges of a nightmare, of being carried away by what looked like Satan's pets, soaring so high she stopped struggling for fear of falling to her death, clung to her with desperate tendrils.

It was made worse when she saw those same creatures standing above her, heads inquisitively close, sniffing her, lips pulled back to reveal small, sharp teeth.

“Get away from me!”

She swatted at one, connecting with its slick, oily skin. Daniela had to swallow back hard to keep from retching.

The beasts stepped back. She turned and saw Heather a few feet from her, unconscious.

“Heather! Heather, wake up!”

Daniela shook her friend by the shoulders. Her back was to the creatures, but for the moment, she didn't give a damn.

Heather's eyelids fluttered.

“We have to get out of here, now,” she said, casting wary glances at the trio of creatures. Their necks craned forward, horrid horse faces too close for comfort.

Pulling at Heather, Daniela said, “Come on, get up.”

Snapping fully awake, Heather scrambled to her feet. “Daniela, where are we?”

“I don't know.”

The creatures took a small step towards them. Heather grabbed Daniela's hand.

“Where's the big one?” Heather asked.

“I . . . I haven't seen it. I think it left.”

One of the creatures opened its maw, emitting an ear-piercing shriek. The girls covered their ears, legs trembling. It was as if the monster had issued a harsh warning—
don't think of moving!

Looking at the forest floor, Daniela searched for anything that could be used as a weapon. Even a stick would do at this point. If all they had were their hands, they were in deep shit.

“Stay away from us!” Heather shouted. She feinted a run at them. They didn't move an inch, instead scrabbling closer, opening and closing their wings in preparation to take flight, or maybe just to scare them.

The girls continued to slowly back away.

“We'll just have to run and hope we can lose them,” Heather whispered, as if the monsters could understand her. Daniela wouldn't be surprised if they could.

“On three?”

“Yeah, on three.”

“One,” Heather said.

In unison, they took another backward step, eyes never leaving the agitated creatures.

“Two,” Daniela said.

Before Heather could say three, Daniela bumped into something hard.

They both turned and screamed.

The big creature had somehow crept behind them, the fetid stench of its breath washing over them, making Daniela light-headed. It swiped at them with its massive wing, knocking them to the ground. Two of the creatures leapt onto Heather, pinning her to the ground.

Daniela couldn't move. She lay on her back, panting, crying so hard her ribs ached, now the creature's sole focus.

For a brief moment, she thought for sure it smiled at her. Something swished in the leaves. She saw its thick cord of a tail snapping back and forth. Looking up between its spread legs, she cried out in unmitigated terror.

A thick, red, dripping penis protruded from the gray and brown folds around its groin. Droplets of drool from its open mouth splashed on her thighs. Daniela started seeing spots, her vision dimming as her fear took control. She didn't need to be held down. She couldn't rise from the earthen floor. Every muscle was locked.

The creature bellowed, gaining the attention of the smaller ones.

It dropped to its knees, its hideous, corkscrew penis dangling over her.

She thought she heard Heather scream something, but nothing was registering. All she could see was that thing between its legs, all she could hear was its labored breathing, and all she could feel was its bony hands on her as it ripped her jeans to shreds.

* * *

The bag of weapons was so heavy, the strap dug into Ben's shoulder deeply enough to practically dislocate the bone. He didn't give it a moment's thought. They were close. He could feel it. For the first time since coming home, he felt like himself again, the new Ben Willet. At the farm, nothing had changed while he'd been away. Well, Daryl had grown, but everything and everybody was exactly the same.

Not him. And he knew it. Worse, he knew they knew it, and he'd had no idea how to turn back the clock.

Reliving the past had never been a want of his. Until now. He'd give anything to have his father and brother back.

Gordon Leeds led them through some exceedingly thick brush. They could have used a machete, but that was the one thing they hadn't packed.

“It doesn't look like anyone's been here in years,” Ben said, eliciting a sneer from the old man. For a man being forced by strangers at gunpoint, Leeds was being very cooperative. That got him to worrying. So he kept him close, letting the man know his gun was locked and loaded.

“They haven't, and we've liked to keep it that way,” Leeds said. The old codger angled his wiry frame between two closely packed tree trunks. “The less people out here, the better.”

“Have you ever seen the Jersey Devil?” April asked. She pulled a tangle of nettles from the hem of her shirt.

“No, but I've heard him. And one time I knew he was close, because I could smell him, and it's not something you'd ever want to smell again. Anyone comes out here, they feel watched. That's how I know he's still here. Oh, he has places all throughout the Pines that he goes to, but this is home. It's always been home.”

“You keep calling it a he,” Ben said. “We've seen it up close. It's not even remotely human.”

“I agree,” Norm said. A stray branch knocked his hat off his head. He bent to pick it up. “Those things are some animal sp-species gone wrong.”

Gordon Leeds shook his head. “We'll have to agree to disagree. I'm not proud to say that thing is my kin, but he is.”

“Are you saying the Jersey Devil we're tracking now is the very same one that your many times great-grandmother gave b-birth to? That s-seems impossible.”

Leeds stopped, turning on Norm with a look of pure incredulity. “Mister, does anything you've seen seem possible? You come across any textbooks that have pictures of what you have in that cooler? I watch you go out looking for Bigfoot and lake monsters and all sorts of hogwash. Are you telling me that's all just for show, that you don't believe the impossible can exist? Because if that's true, you're one hell of an actor.”

Norm blushed. “No, I c-couldn't act to save my l-l-life.”

“Well, okay then.”

“Do you feel it now?” Boompa said. He kept his rifle pointed at the ground, finger resting on the trigger guard.

Leeds nodded. “He's here. I can't tell you about the young ones. That's new to me. How many you figure you saw?”

“Dozens,” Ben said.

“We took a shitload out at the bar, though,” April interjected. “So it's either in mourning or pissed.”

“You killed its kin,” Gordon said. “You can bet it's mighty pissed.”

“It killed one of mine, and took another,” Boompa said. “Now we're both in the same state of mind.”

Ben thought he heard something, a voice, and raised his hand for everyone to stop.

“What's up?” April whispered.

He narrowed his eyes. She pulled her lips tight.

There it was again. Definitely a woman. It sounded like someone crying.

“Any people actually live out here?” he asked Leeds.

“No. Locals won't come near it and we have ways of discouraging outsiders from laying down stakes.”

He waited to hear the woman again, cocked his head to the west, and said, “That way.”

“That's where the old homestead is,” Leeds said. “The real one.”

It was impossible to make their way with any degree of stealth. The crackle and snap of traipsing through the overgrowth was like gunshots out in the middle of nowhere, making it hard to proceed as quickly as Ben would like.

When the woman screamed a bloodcurdling wail that could raise the hairs on their arms, a wave of calm coursed through Ben's veins.

Jane lay in the dirt, listening to the women's cries.

There was a time when she used to cry like that—tears of pain, terror and confusion. So many times, she willed her heart to simply stop, to put an end to the madness, but it kept right on beating, forcing her to endure the unendurable.

She began to see it as a just punishment, for what she did to her husband.

It had been so long, she couldn't remember if she had been the one to kill Henry or if it had been an accident. It was so hard to focus, to remember anything with clarity.

There'd been his body, she recalled that, wrapped in a rug or bags or something.
Like a burrito
.

God, what did a burrito taste like? That memory, too, was gone, wiped clean.

But she did try to bury him out in the Pine Barrens. Problem was, she'd picked the wrong spot. It took her, dropping her with the others. Were there four women, or six? Shit. She'd been with some of them for years and couldn't even recall their names. Sometimes, in her dreams, it all came back. All it took was her waking up for it to slip away.

It didn't matter. They were all dead now. They'd served their penance.

Jane assumed her sins were greater.

She must have been one awful bitch to be dealt this hand.

Birthing the creature's offspring was a painful affair, more so than the conception. She'd had to chew through the umbilicus, tend to her own afterbirth—time and time again over the years, and never pushing out just one. No, it was always multiples, for Jane and the other women. They were monster factories. The three who'd tried to leave had their Achilles tendons severed. So they crawled in mud, lay in their own shit and bore the creature's children until their hearts just gave out. Even then, their job wasn't done, their flesh feeding their own offspring.

They were the lucky ones.

Jane forced herself to look at the deformities as her babies, though they bore no resemblance to anything that had ever passed from a woman's birth canal. It made coping easier.

That thing showed them where the barrels were. Her mind may have flown the coop, but she had enough sense to know whatever was in those steel jugs was bad—poison. They ate, and they grew, fast, turning violent.

Feeding was everything now. Their brains had been rewired by the poison, or maybe they were always meant to be this way.

Jane knew what they wanted with those women.

She wanted to cry out to them, “Stop your worrying! They won't kill you!”

Oh, but you'll wish you were dead
.

* * *

Daryl couldn't sit and watch what was about to transpire. The Jersey Devil had completely removed all of the woman's clothing, while her friend watched, struggling against the smaller demons.

It spread its wings as wide as they could go, blocking everything from view. The creature dropped to its knees, and the woman's blubbering cries escalated into the mother of all wails.

His jaw ached from grinding his molars. Glancing at the knife in his hands, he knew it wouldn't be enough. If he was lucky, he'd take it by surprise, maybe put a nice gash in its wings. But then all bets were off. It would tear him to shreds. There was no avoiding it. Maybe he'd buy the women some time, give them a chance to run.

What if Jane tried to stop them? Once she realized he was no longer any help to her, would she feed these sheep to the wolf?

“Fuck it.”

Daryl sprang from behind the fallen trees, rushing at the Devil with the blade held over his head. If he could somehow sink it to the hilt in back of the thing's neck, they all might stand a chance. He just prayed he didn't hit bone.

One of the smaller Devils screeched like a wounded bird just as he was about to plunge the knife.

The Jersey Devil whirled around, wings spread wide, accepting him into a foul embrace. The knife connected with its shoulder. Daryl felt resistance. The blade fell from his hand just as the creature put him in a bear hug, bringing him face-to-face with a vision of hell's own nightmares come to life.

Its eyes blazed crimson with an eternal light that came from someplace far, far away.

Daryl stared into a face that was at once that of a horse, but with the ability to convey human emotion, the muscles working in ways that no animal's could—or should. It didn't appear frightened or surprised or even angry.

No, the Jersey Devil instead flashed an unearthly smile, the way a parent would look to a child that had done something wrong and just needed a light scolding. It had no fear of him. He saw in that gaze a creature that had never known fear because it
was
fear, a beast so horrible, even the boogeyman would run screaming from its sight.

It snorted at him, a sick smell blasting through its wide nostrils, reeking of rotted roadkill and brine from a diseased sea.

For the first time, Daryl also saw the flaking stumps of horns on its head, the rounded ends discolored and chipped.

Its grip was like being pinned between two cars. Daryl's feet no longer touched the ground. It was almost impossible to breathe. He couldn't tell if the girls were trying to make an escape. He was entirely entombed in the Devil's embrace.

“Go on, kill me,” Daryl spat. The pain was excruciating. “I'm not afraid of you.”

But he was. In fact, his terror was so complete, he'd rather die than spend another moment in its presence.

A black tongue protruded from its long, curved mouth.

Daryl turned his face away, no longer able to stare into the abyss of its glare.

As its tongue traced a wet trail over his cheek, starting from his jawline and slithering up to his forehead, Daryl felt something vibrate through the Devil's body.

Its hideous face turned away from him. Daryl saw a thick branch lash out, catching it right on its nose. It wailed an inhuman cry, dropping Daryl.

As he hit the ground, he saw the naked woman swing again, missing. One of the smaller Devils jumped on her back, claws digging into her skin. Blood trailed from the wounds as she twisted under its weight. The woman on the ground tried to wrestle herself out from under the Devil on her chest. Desperate, she smashed at it with her fists, voicing her desperation with a primal scream.

The crack of a gunshot brought the melee to a momentary stop.

“Get down!” he shouted at the naked woman. She stared back at him with a blank expression, eyes darting every which way, searching for the shooter. The creature on her back stopped tearing at her flesh.

Even the big bastard paused, sniffing at the air.

When Daryl saw his brother push through the brush, his AR-15 pointed right at the Jersey Devil, Daryl looked to the beast and said, “Oh, man, are you fucked.”

* * *

April's mind reeled at the scene before them.

To see Daryl not only alive, but not bleeding or severely wounded made her heart do triple beats.

There was a naked woman, a creature latched on to her back. It looked like it must hurt like hell, but the woman had the faraway stare of someone who'd checked out, not registering the pain.

Another woman was pinned to the ground by two more Devils.

And then there was the life-size Jersey Devil itself in all its twisted and formidable glory.

“Holy sh-sh-shit,” Norm sputtered.

Ben's warning shot had given them time to assess the situation.

“I've got the ones on the ground,” she said.

“I'll take the big one,” Boompa said.

“No,” Ben said. “If I hit it with this, it's not going anywhere this time.”

The Jersey Devil let loose with a mix of a roar and an eagle's screech. Before anyone could take their shot, it flapped its wings, heading straight up.

“No, you don't!” Daryl shouted. He charged at the Devil, wrapping his arms around one of its legs. The sudden weight shift put a stop to its ascent. Daryl looked to Ben. “Shoot it!”

The moment Ben pulled the trigger, the Jersey Devil veered to the left, dragging Daryl with it. The shot missed by inches, taking out a chunk of a tree trunk behind it.

“Dammit!” Ben cursed. He darted after the creature, Daryl clinging to it, tugging on its legs and trying to skew its equilibrium.

“I . . . I can't believe it,” Gordon Leeds said beside her. “I've spent all my life knowing he was out here, but I never imagined . . .”

April ran to the women, worried about using her gun now that the smaller ones were all riled up and in full motion. If she could get close enough, she'd deliver a nice head shot to the beasts.

Her grandfather and Norm were at either side.

“Go on, get! Heyaaah!” Boompa bellowed, the same way he got animals on the farm to get moving. It worked, because the Devils scampered away from the women.

April pulled the trigger and watched with delight as the knee of one of the Devils exploded in crimson gore. It twirled in the air before collapsing in a writhing tangle.

She kept advancing, reaching down to pull one of the women to her feet. The naked one stared upward as the creature that had been on her back flew away. Boompa and Norm took shots but missed.

The remaining Devil had flown away as well, but it came roaring back, heading straight for April.

“Down!” she shouted, dragging the woman back to the ground. The Devil went for April this time, its jaws open wide, speeding to wrap around her face.

She held her Beretta with both hands and fired. Its head became a red mist two feet before it reached her. Its body continued on its path, hitting into her shoulder hard before tumbling to a dead stop. Her shoulder made a loud pop as the bones dislocated from the impact, slipping back into place the second she rolled over in pain. Her mouth filled with dirt as she howled from the pain.

“Go help Ben,” she wheezed, momentarily winded.

“Are you all right, honey?” Boompa said.

“Right as fucking rain,” she said, grabbing her shoulder.

The three men ran to where the Jersey Devil had flown.

“Stay right there! We'll be back!” Boompa shouted as they slipped out of sight.

April glanced at the two women. They looked like they had been to hell and back, then hell again for shits and giggles. “Stay close to me in case one of those things returns.”

“Are you sure you can shoot with that arm?” the one with the clothes said.

April nodded. “Trust me, if I need to, I could shoot an elephant gun.”