The Jersey Devil

by Hunter Shea

  “Even if we do find it, do you think it’ll change anything?” Ben said.

  April sidled next to him, lifting his shirt to expose his side. A bright red birthmark marred his pale flesh. The mark was in the shape of a cloven hoof. “You mean like make this go away?”

  She dropped his shirt, lifting her own, revealing an identical birthmark. Daryl did the same.

  “I don’t know,” Ben said. “At least we can find out what it means.”

  Their father also bore the same mark. They hadn’t seen it since they were kids, but they knew it was there—a brand that had haunted them all their lives. Ben knew it was more than that. Much more. They all knew Boompa’s story by heart, how their grandmother was the first to bear it. He’d suspected there had to be more, but if the old man hadn’t seen fit to tell them, he must have had a damn good reason.

  Maybe the answer was somewhere out there in the Pine Barrens. And maybe the only way to find it was through the barrel of a gun.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sam helped Bill and Ben load the guns and other weapons into a secret compartment in the old Ford van they’d begged him to junk or sell for years. It was a hot morning. The sun felt like it was sitting right on their shoulders. Sam was ordered to sit in the shade for a minute.

  “Who do you think you’re talking to?” he asked his son.

  Bill licked beads of sweat from his upper lip. “A man old enough to know not to give himself heatstroke.”

  Bill’s jaws worked furiously on a wad of gum. He’d seemed out of sorts the past few days, lost in his own world. Sam wondered if he was thinking of his mother, and how things may be coming full circle. Lord knows, his own brain had been burning night and day with the same thoughts.

  There was no sense arguing with his pigheaded son. “I’ll do that if you take this,” he said, holding out a rosary, the beads worn from years of handling.

  “Thanks, but no. Mom’s rosary belongs in your pocket.” Bill slung a vinyl rifle tote off his shoulder and put it in the van for Ben to stow away.

  “Will you at least put on my music?”

  His son stood with his hands on his hips, watching Carol, April and Daryl stow camping gear into the new minivan the family had bought last year.

  “Fine,” he said. He went into the old van, took a cassette from the box under the passenger’s seat and popped a Dean Martin tape into the van’s radio. He cranked it up as far as the blown-out speakers would allow. Dino warbled about what would be a kick in the head.

  Sam smiled at Bill’s eye roll. The apple fell far from the tree as far as musical taste was concerned. “You just made an old man happy.”

  Bill almost dropped the box of old cassettes and smiled. They clattered like windup teeth. “Well, at least I can scratch that off my bucket list.”

  They both chuckled while Ben latched the compartment door in place. “All set,” he called out.

  They were doing their best to make light of the day, but Sam knew what lay ahead weighed heavily on all of them. They would either return from this trip empty-handed and dejected, or with the very thing the whole Willet family had been hoping for since the day Bill was born. The moment Sam saw his boy emerge from his wife screaming his lungs out, Lauren weeping with happiness and exhaustion from a labor that would have killed a lesser woman, he knew this day would have to come. He only wished he was a few years younger. Hell, make that a few decades.

  Regardless, he still had enough left in him to do what had to be done.

  “You ladies need help with the food and coolers?” he asked his daughter-in-law.

  Carol waved him off, “We’ve got it. You need a cold drink?”

  Truth be told, he did, but he wanted to hold out a while. “I’m all right. I’ll have an iced tea when we’re on the road. It’ll go perfect with my jerky.”

  Ben turned out to be quite the hunter, what with all that marksmanship training in the military. He’d bagged two deer this past fall. Sam made a hell of a jerky with the meat they didn’t use for steaks, burgers and chili.

  Daryl lugged a blue cooler into the minivan. “How are we gonna sneak all those guns around when we get there?” he asked.

  “Son, you have no idea how remote the Pinelands are. It makes this place look like Times Square. Your grandma and I had a few special places we’d sneak off to back when we were keeping company. With any luck, I’ll still be able to find them.”

  Daryl’s brows rose. “And what exactly were you and Grams doing in the woods?”

  “Don’t you worry yourself about it.”

  “Does ‘keeping company’ mean you were married or dating?”

  “She was my steady. We weren’t married just yet. But it wasn’t long before we were.”

  His grandson gave him a light punch on the shoulder. “You sly dog.”

  “Don’t go getting any lewd ideas in your pointy head,” Sam said, shooing him off. “Go finish helping your sister.”

  Watching Daryl walk to the house with his patented saunter, Sam had to smile. Those woods were better than a hotel back then. It was where they’d lost their virginity—to each other, of course. The old ironworks factory had been their secret spot. They’d escaped to it as often as they could. They used to figure the last folks to walk the factory had been dead and gone a hundred years or more. Sometimes, after they made love, they talked about building a home there, far away from everyone, just the two of them.

  If only they hadn’t gone back that last time. Everything would be different.

  Would Lauren still be here? he wondered. She’d passed on just a year shy of seventy. It was her heart. He couldn’t help wondering every day since she’d left them if the stress was what wore her out.

  I’ll have a chance to ask her soon enough.

  “Bill,” he called to his son. “How about me, you and April ride in the Ford? If we get pulled over for any reason, it’ll help to have a pretty face to distract the police from looking too deep into the van.”

  “And what if the cop is a woman?”

  “Well, that’s why you’ll have me in the van,” Sam said with a wink.

  * * *

  Joanne set the timer for her meatloaf and settled onto the couch. She had forty-five minutes all to herself. It felt great to get off her feet. She heard the water in the shower pelting the vinyl curtain, Noah trying in vain to lay down some old-school rap. She hoped to God the neighbors couldn’t hear.

  She took a sip of wine and picked up her cell phone. There was one voice mail waiting for her.

  “Funny, I didn’t hear it ring.”

  Of course, she’d had her earbuds in, listening to music while she was preparing dinner.

  She listened to the message, then replayed it.

  “Noah!” she shouted, running to the bathroom.

  “You can go to the bathroom if you need to,” he said from the shower.

  “You know that guy on TV who’s on all those monster shows?” she said, still looking at the phone.

  “Who?”

  “The dude with the hat. He’s the what do you call it? Crypto something. He’s got that long goatee.”

  The faucets squeaked when Noah turned the water off. “Oh, yeah, Norm something. What about him?”

  When he stepped out of the shower, the water beading off his hard body, Joanne had to resist the impulse to ravish him. She’d wanted to save it for after dinner.

  “He just left me a message,” she said.

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No. He said he saw your post about that thing that happened to us at the camp location for the tour. He wants to meet with us tomorrow to talk about it.”

  Noah dropped the towel, smiling like it was his birthday. It was impossible not to notice that he was actually getting hard. He picked her up, crushing her to his chest. His cock pressed against her belly.

  “Holy crap, that’s awesome! We haven’t even started the tours yet and we already have the most famous cryptozoologist in the world interested in mee
ting us! Oh, my God, this is gonna be huge right out of the gate.”

  Despite his excitement, and her growing arousal, they’d both forgotten that the Jersey Devil Camping Tour had been put on the back burner because they were both leery of going back in those woods. First, there was that kid claiming he shot the Jersey Devil. He was probably full of shit, but he did shoot at something. Kids with guns in the woods worried her. And then there was that guy who was literally chewed up around the area that was close to one of the selected campsites. Things were getting too freaky. Plus, Noah still hadn’t been able to find someone who could lead the actual tours while they ran the business side of things. Interest from Norm Cranston would give them the cachet they needed to amass applicants for the job and people eager to do some monster hunting.

  “So that means I should call him back and tell him yes?” Joanne asked once he put her down.

  “Hell, yes, it does!” He reached around, squeezing her ass. “And when you’re done, meet me right back here.”

  Joanne’s heart fluttered and she blushed, even though they’d been together for three years. He had that effect on her. And this was a moment to celebrate.

  Rushing to the living room so there were no distractions, she hit redial and took a few deep breaths.

  * * *

  Norm Cranston paced in his bedroom. His open suitcase was on the bed, clothes packed tightly as only a professional traveler could cram a wardrobe into a tiny box. He tapped his cellphone against his forehead.

  He had every reason to doubt the little camping tale told by the couple from the fledgling Jersey Devil tour. It seemed like the simplest, most transparent publicity stunt possible. Only a sucker would believe them.

  But there was something in Joanne’s voice that made little bells go off in the back of his be-hatted head. She sounded sincere. He’d know for sure when he met her and her partner, Noah. Norm’s bullshit detector had become a finely tuned instrument over the years. It was an absolute necessity if you were going to spend your life chasing down monster stories. Sure, he’d been fooled a number of times, but as he got older, a healthy dash of aged cynicism helped refine his filter.

  The call he’d just had with that Wyatt kid who’d stolen his father’s gun and did what no one else has ever done, that had him thinking hard. His father was none too pleased with the story and Norm had to work hard to get him to talk, much less agree to meet with him for a bit when he got into Jersey.

  “That kid will be the death of me,” his father moaned once he’d let his guard down. It was funny how people opened up to him as if he were an old friend when they realized he was that guy on TV. “First he does the one thing I’ve told him time and time again to stay the hell away from. If he wasn’t so scared when he came home, I would have kicked him square in the ass. I tell him to keep the story to himself. We’ve been living here since he was born and we’re still considered outsiders. I don’t need my neighbors thinking he made something up just to show we’re down with the local folklore. So what do he and his friends do? They blab to all their friends, including one whose mother is a reporter for the local rag. You have any kids, Mr. Cranston?”

  “None that I know of, no.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. Wyatt is the best thing that ever happened to us. But, man, the worry kids bring out in you ages a man.”

  Again, Norm’s BS detector remained silent during their entire conversation. This family wanted nothing to do with the story. The only question now was what did Wyatt and his friends see? He’d definitely shot at something, but what?

  Salem jumped onto the suitcase. Norm stroked his head.

  “Well, we’ll see when I get there. And then it’s on to the Willets’.”

  The cat purred a long, wistful meow.

  “I wish you could come, t-too.”

  Sam had said the whole family was heading for the Pine Barrens. What on earth were they planning to do?

  “Come on, big guy, let’s get you to your vacation home,” he said, carrying Salem to his pet carrier. The cat put up a fuss, raking its claws on Norm’s arm. He held steady, and soon Salem was safe inside, hissing, his tail puffed out to three times its size.

  Staring at his cat through the wire mesh, Norm wondered.

  Were the Willets planning to catch the Jersey Devil?

  If any family could do the impossible, it would be them.

  Chapter Twelve

  Heather Davids used a battery-powered blower to inflate the queen-size air mattress. The reedy whine of the machine seemed sacrilegious out here in the peaceful woods.

  Too bad, she thought. I’m not sleeping on the ground.

  Her boyfriend, Tony, and his idiot pal Justin took over an hour to get the two tents up. They were more comfortable strutting on the boardwalk at Seaside Heights than roughing it in the forest.

  Ever since Tony lost his job and had to move back home, their sex life had taken a downward turn. Hotels were expensive, unless they went to one of those fleabag roach motels where you paid by the hour. Heather was very clear that she wasn’t going to get bedbugs just so he could see her naked.

  So now here they were, camping in the middle of nowhere just so they could spend some time together.

  She should feel more sorry for her best friend, Daniela. It was Tony’s idea to bring Justin along and play matchmaker. He thought Daniela took too much of Heather’s time, so why not hook her up with Justin?

  If only he knew Daniela was a lesbian.

  If only anyone knew.

  They’d been friends since first grade at Holy Assumption grammar school. Heather knew Daniela was different from her back in fourth grade, when her friend stared at the pages of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue with the same glazed-over look as the boys.

  But being a good Catholic girl in a strong Italian family precluded her from even considering making her sexuality a topic for discussion. Heather would hold her secret to the grave, though she did encourage her often to just come out with it and shed the heavy weight that she’d been shackled to whenever she was around her family.

  “Times have changed,” Heather would say. “Shit, my niece in middle school says that it’s cool to be gay or bi now. They bully the straight kids!”

  Daniela would shake her head. “Yeah, but my family hasn’t changed.”

  Being a good sport, she’d agreed to come along, prepared to use the usual excuse to stop Justin, and any man, in his tracks—she had her period and her cramps were killing her. Heather giggled to herself, thinking about all the guys who had gone home balled up after a date with Daniela. She was gorgeous, with long black hair, full lips, green eyes and the kind of body women paid a plastic surgeon for. That body just wasn’t put here for Jersey boys.

  “I’m getting hungry,” Heather said, topping off the mattress and dropping two thin pillows on it. “I hope you guys brought something good.”

  Tony and Justin opened the cooler, diving through the ice for cans of Coors Light. They popped the tabs open, being gentlemen enough to hand them to her and Daniela.

  “I picked up a bunch of camping food packs from the Sports Authority,” Justin said, emptying a bag of foil pouches. “It was either that or heating up cans of beans.”

  Heather pawed through the packets of food. “Let’s see, we have macaroni and cheese, Southwest chili with beans and meat—that should be lovely. I can’t imagine what kind of meat they used here. I’m sure it’s not from the Pork Store. Beef stew with vegetables.” She crinkled her nose in disgust, squeezing the packet. “Ugh, I can feel the meat crumbling like wet charcoal. I think I’ll pass.”

  She took a long drink, savoring the icy sensation as it settled in her empty stomach.

  “I knew you guys would screw it up,” Daniela said with a wry smile. She reached into the bottom of the cooler. “Which is why I brought this!”

  She pulled out a package of Sabrett hot dogs. “Aaaaand, this!”

  From her backpack, she extracted a collapsible hot dog roasting fork, l
ong enough to hold three hot dogs over a fire without burning your hand. Tony and Heather gave her a round of applause. Justin sat on the cooler, looking dejected.

  “I was just trying to be authentic,” he said.

  “Dude, you know me and you are eating what’s in those freeze dried packs, too,” Tony said, inspecting the label for the mac and cheese. “I’m so hungry, I could eat deer shit.”

  Heather motioned to the woods around them. “I’m sure you’ll find plenty to eat if that’s your thing.” She laughed when he threw her over his shoulder, beer sloshing down his back. He spun around until her head was swimming, his hand firmly on her ass. When he put her down, she collapsed into Daniela, who did an admirable job holding her up.

  “Why don’t you guys get some wood and rocks to make a decent fire pit,” Daniela said. “We’ll watch and give you direction when needed.”

  Justin jumped up, chugging his beer. “Come on T, let’s get manly.”

  Tony gave Heather a long kiss. “It’ll be nice to have a fire,” he said, staring into her eyes. “Kinda romantic.”

  Heather leaned close to his ear. “The more romantic you make it, the more treats you’ll get later.”

  She swore she could feel actual heat build between their close bodies. He kissed her again. “That a promise?”

  She nodded.

  “Let’s go, Justin. I’ll get the rocks, you look for good, dry wood.” He handed his friend the mini axe he’d borrowed from his uncle. They set off searching the leaf-littered floor within sight of their little camp.

  Daniela handed Heather a fresh can of beer. She ran the cool surface over her forehead and neck before opening it.

  “I’m glad I brought my noise-canceling headphones,” Daniela said, swatting her thigh. “I think it’s going to get pretty loud out here tonight.”

  “You know what they say, if the tent is rocking . . .”

  Daniela emptied a handful of mustard packets from her pocket.

  “You sure you’re okay sharing a tent with Justin?” Heather asked.