The Jersey Devil

by Hunter Shea

  He had to remind himself he wasn’t here for livestock contests and corn dogs.

  The state trooper that blew through the red light on Main Street, lights flashing frenetically, brought Norm back to earth.

  It was a hot day, especially standing out under the sun, watching the car spit dust up in its wake. His hat did yeoman’s work keeping the rays off his head, but the humidity had made his clothes feel as if he’d just pulled them from the washing machine.

  There was a general store, yes, an actual general store, right across the street. Norm couldn’t believe it. There were even two rocking chairs on the covered porch. A tiny bell clanged when he walked in the door. He was greeted by an icy blast of air-conditioning.

  Enjoy it while you can, he thought. The days ahead would be spent outdoors.

  “Hi, how can I help you?” an older woman sitting behind the counter asked. She had long gray hair tied up in a tight braid, kind eyes set within wrinkles that could only come from a lifetime of smiling.

  Norm smiled, doffing his hat for a moment. “I’m just grateful it’s nice and c-cool in here. Do you have anything cold to drink?”

  “Right behind you,” she said.

  There was a cooler filled with an assortment of old-time soda. He found a bottle of birch beer, popped the cap with the bottle opener on the side of the industrial cooler and pocketed the cap.

  Did I just stumble into a time machine?

  “That’ll be a dollar,” she said. He passed her a buck and she rang the sale in a cash register that had to be older than the Empire State Building.

  “Is it all right if I drink it in here?” he asked.

  “Suit yourself. If you get hungry, we make some of the best fudge in the state.”

  He perused the trays of different flavored fudge in the display case. His stomach rumbled.

  They both looked out the window when another state trooper car wailed down the street.

  “I wish they’d slow down,” she said. “It’s not like they can help the person they’re rushing off to.”

  Norm leaned on the counter.

  “You know w-w-where they’re going?”

  “I do. I like to listen to the police scanner. It helps kill the time. Plus, I get to know what’s going to be on the police blotter section of the paper before everyone else.” She patted a small black box on a shelf behind the register.

  “I’m curious, what exactly are they rushing off to?” Norm asked. “Was th-there an accident?”

  The woman opened her mouth and stopped. Norm worried that he’d said something wrong and was going to be ejected into the heat.

  “Say, aren’t you that monster guy on TV?” She cocked her head, staring at him, trying to tie the hat and goatee to his image on the television.

  “I’m afraid I am,” he said with genuine humility. It was still strange, being known as the monster guy who did all those weird cable shows. He waited for her to ask him why he didn’t stutter on TV. Then again, he was doing pretty well today. Maybe she didn’t even detect it.

  She pointed an arthritic finger at him. “Weren’t you scared when you went out looking for the Lizard Man down in Bishopville? I remember when it happened. I was living in South Carolina at the time, just fifty miles south. If you ask me, I think what they saw was a Bigfoot, not some lizard that walked on two feet.”

  Norm had to restrain himself from laughing. He could remember a day when only kids and crackpots knew about these kinds of things, especially a legend like the Lizard Man. Television was good for something.

  “There really wasn’t anything to be afraid of except the bugs. The Lizard Man hasn’t been seen there in a long, l-long time. The people of the town were wonderful to me, though. That’s not always the case when I waltz in with a camera crew.”

  “Are you here to film something about the Jersey Devil?” she asked.

  Norm tugged on the end of his goatee. “Not yet. Just doing some scouting, I guess you could say. You ever see it for yourself?”

  She shook her head sadly. “I didn’t, but my mother did when she was around twenty. It just popped up in the woods behind our house and nearly scared her to death. Before she could even scream, it flew off and she never saw it again.”

  Finishing his birch beer, he asked, “Do a lot of people believe in the Jersey Devil around here, or is it just fun to have it as kind of the state mascot?”

  She went to the display case and cut him off a piece of fudge. “On the house,” she said. “You won’t find any shortage of people that not only believe it, but have seen it, heard it or know someone who has. The thing is, we keep these things to ourselves, mostly. You could almost say that folks feel if you talk about it too much, it’ll find you to, in its own way, get you to zip your lip.”

  There was a sparkle in her eye that Norm interpreted as either she was delighted in letting him in on a local secret or pulling his leg, just a little. The fudge, raspberry cheesecake, was unbelievably good. He asked her if he could get two pounds to go.

  As she was wrapping it in a brown paper bag, he said, “Oh, about the police. What exactly h-has them in such a hurry”

  “They found another dead man in the woods.” The register clanged again as he paid for the fudge. “Well, they didn’t exactly find him. From what I can tell, two men were out in the woods and one of them found the other dead.”

  “That’s horrible,” Norm said. Suddenly, going into the endless forest of the Pinelands had lost its appeal.

  “That’s not the worst of it.” She bent closer as if to whisper a secret, which was odd because they were the only ones in the store. “I thought I heard one of the staties say all that was left was the man’s head.”

  * * *

  Norm listened to the police scanner with the woman for another few minutes, until he spotted an old van and a bright red new minivan park across the street.

  “I think my friends are here,” he said. “Thank you for the fu-fudge and the company.”

  Before he could leave, she tapped his arm. “You think you could do an old lady a favor?”

  There was no way he could resist. “I sure can.”

  “Be very careful out there. And I’m not talking about the Jersey Devil. There’s something strange going on around these parts. I’d like to know that you’re safe.”

  He put his hand over hers. “How about this? When we’re all done, I’ll come back and show you I’m okay. I know I’ll need more of this delicious fudge by then.”

  She smiled sweetly. “I’d like that.”

  The second he opened the door, he regretted it. His body had acclimated to the cool store, and now it felt even hotter than before.

  The Willets emerged from their vehicles, Sam waving when he saw him.

  “Hey there, stranger,” Sam Willet said. He was wearing a stained baseball cap, the bill’s fabric frayed.

  “We picked a wonderful day for hunting,” Norm said, already feeling sweat pop out around his neck.

  “Aw, it’ll be much cooler once we get under the trees.”

  Norm took in the Willet family.

  Good Lord, if I were the Jersey Devil, I’d run for the hills knowing they were coming for me.

  They were all tall, with the exception of Ben, though he looked as solid as a brick shithouse. Norm knew he’d spent time overseas in the military. The guy looked like a man who had seen things he couldn’t un-see. There was a brooding silence about him that separated him from the rest of the family. As mean as Ben’s father looked, Norm was pretty sure Ben was the true one to fear.

  April looked like a model from a country music video, tall and lean and tan with denim shorts and a very tight T-shirt. Her brother Daryl, still wearing that dirty Mets cap, wore a smile like a sheriff wore his badge. He was the tallest in the family and Norm wouldn’t be surprised if he scaled skyscrapers in his spare time.

  Then there was Bill, with his buzz cut and Halloween mask for a face, hands like Easter hams and a jaw cut from some kind of Disney he
ro. His wife, Carol, was long and slender, but with a chest that defied gravity. Good old country genetics, he thought. She looked ten years younger than her age. He talked to her and Sam often. Carol was the family cryptozoologist, interested in things beyond the Jersey Devil. They once spent an entire night talking about Long Island’s Montauk Monster over Skype. They both agreed whatever it was that washed up on the shore was some poor animal that had been experimented on at the Plum Island facility. Nothing to gather the villagers over.

  Sam shook Norm’s hand. “I’m so glad you could come. We seem a bit obsessed about this, but we have our reasons.”

  “I just can’t believe I hadn’t done this m-myself years ago. I guess I’ve had too much Sasquatch on the brain,” Norm said.

  And I can’t wait to find out what secret you’ve all been holding on to.

  Norm got knuckle-breaking handshakes from the men and back-cracking hugs from the women. It made him realize how soft he’d become. Everyone looked happy to see him, but he could feel an undercurrent of tension.

  He told them about the man’s head that had been found less than an hour ago and generally where it had occurred.

  “It sounds awful, but I don’t think it bears the MO of the Jersey Devil,” Norm said.

  Sam Willet scratched at the gray stubble on his neck. “I’m not so sure, Norm. I’m not so sure. It would be easy to dismiss it, but I think everything that’s been going on can lead back to that damned thing.”

  “That’s a pretty big stretch. I mean, this is well beyond the scope of any animal, real or un-undiscovered. If people are d-dying from animal attacks, I’m more inclined to think of a rogue bear.”

  “Not many out this way, believe it or not. Just call it a feeling, mixed with some history that’s not been talked about before.”

  There were so many things Norm wanted to ask the family on this trip, and he planned to make good use of their time together.

  “Well, if you were planning to go anywhere near where that man was killed, I’m pretty sure the cops have cordoned off the area,” Norm said.

  “Not today,” Bill said. “My father wants to visit the highest point in the Pinelands first.” The big man dropped his keys, swiping them off the ground quickly.

  “You’ll never get a truer lay of the land,” Sam said. “You brought your cameras and other gear?”

  Norm nodded. “All in my fine little rented truck over there.” He pointed towards the white Honda CRV.

  Daryl and April broke into laughter. “I wouldn’t exactly call that a truck,” Daryl said. Even Bill had a crooked grin on his face.

  Here Norm was, a man born and raised in the South, and he was getting out-rednecked by these New York farmers.

  He looked at the pristine Japanese car, and smiled himself.

  Ben walked back to the minivan. “Come on, you can follow us,” he said in a clipped tone, not waiting for a reply.

  Bill added, “Stay close, because GPS is pretty sketchy out here. Cell service, too. We’ve had one bar at most for the past half hour.”

  Carol handed him a manila folder. “Some notes on the Jersey Devil, including a few things you’re not going to find other places. I can go over it with you tonight, once we set up camp.”

  “Th-thanks,” he said. He dropped the folder onto the passenger seat and turned up the air-conditioning in the car.

  “Why does this feel like a military operation?” he said into his audio recorder, staying two car lengths behind the minivan. “I don’t think the Willets are here to swap stories and bang the brush for the Jersey Devil.”

  He wasn’t aware how close he was to the truth.

  Chapter Fifteen

  You couldn’t get any higher than Apple Pie Hill. Ben had worried that there would be a steep ascent to the hill and they’d have to turn around. The old van in the lead wasn’t cut out for that kind of driving anymore.

  To his surprise, getting there was easy. He watched April’s arm sway up and down with the wind current the entire drive. It was a beautiful day out. Some would say it was hot, but after a tour in Afghanistan, Ben had promised never to complain about the heat again. They parked in a lot next to a wood sign for the Batona Trail.

  Getting out of their vehicles, he heard Daryl ask, “How far is it from here to the fire tower?”

  “Just a little hike,” Boompa said.

  The famous fire tower would be a great recon vantage point. If they were going to search for the Devil in the surrounding forest, he wanted to see what they were up against.

  “April, you need to put on some jeans,” Ben said, eyeing his sister’s too-short shorts.

  She flipped him off, though with a smile.

  He slung a backpack filled with water, energy bars and other essentials out of the van and onto his shoulder. It was heavy, but manageable.

  “All right, I guess you don’t mind ticks burrowing under your skin.”

  She looked to their mother to confirm.

  “He’s right. They’re all over the place out here. You don’t want Lyme disease.”

  April rolled her eyes, grabbed her pack from the minivan and went back to the van. “I’ll be out in a second.”

  The heat bugs were belting out a chorus. Ben almost couldn’t hear himself think. He took a quick hit from his flask, careful to make sure no one saw him. There was no pleasure in the whiskey burn.

  Can’t go down this road. Not now. Pull your shit together.

  Stepping casually away from the family, he tossed the flask into a thick tangle of bushes. That was it. There was no retrieving that silver little fucker. Ben wouldn’t say he had a drinking problem, but he knew he was skirting awfully close. The drinking made it easier to be with people, even his family. Sometimes, he felt so clenched up inside, he was afraid to open up, lest everything come exploding out.

  And there’s no telling what’ll come out, is there, Benny Boy?

  He saw that Norm Cranston’s face was already as red as a baboon’s ass. He went to his grandfather. “You can stay here if you want. I have a map and can take everyone.”

  Boompa patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. I still know how to walk.”

  Ben opened his mouth to protest, then shut it. There was no arguing with the man.

  He unzipped his pack, making sure the Beretta was exactly where he’d put it. He wasn’t going anywhere without it.

  “Everyone ready?” he said, noting his sister’s jeans.

  “Lead the way, young grasshopper,” his father said. He’d found a gnarled branch and was holding it like a walking stick.

  The path was obvious to follow, but choked with overgrown vegetation. Twenty yards in and they were swallowed by clouds of mosquitos. Ben took out a bottle of insect repellent and passed it along.

  “Some of these look like they could be the Jersey Devil,” Norm said, walking in the middle of the pack. He swatted them with his hat.

  “No shit. This is nuts,” Daryl said.

  “Watch your mouth,” his mother snapped.

  “Really?” Daryl said, walking heavily, as he always did. You could hear Daryl coming from another county away.

  “You and your fucking mouth,” April scolded him. Ben turned to see the sly grin on his sister’s face. “Not in front of company, little brother.” She looked to Norm, who blushed.

  “Welcome to the family,” Boompa said. He was keeping a good pace and not winded at all. Ben was impressed. “We work like mules and cuss like sailors.”

  Ben veered to the left, pointing at the ground. “Watch out, broken glass.” Someone who most likely didn’t celebrate Earth Day had smashed a twelve pack of Bud Light bottles on a rock protruding from the weed-choked path. He was surprised at the amount of litter thrown about. Water bottles had been jammed in bushes, cigarette packs squashed underfoot.

  When they came to a clearing, they stopped to admire the view. A whole green and blue world had suddenly opened up before them.

  “This is it,” Boompa said.

/>   A sixty-foot fire tower rose ahead of them. Stairs zigzagged in the center of the structure, leading to the viewing platform. The red and white paint was worn and flecked. Some idiots had even taken the time to spray paint illegible graffiti.

  “You know, your grandma and I lived not too far from here way back before there were things like cars and flying machines.”

  Ben offered bottles of water. “You want to rest for a second before we climb up the tower?”

  Boompa was already stomping towards the tower. “Gotta make the best of the daylight while we have it,” he said over his shoulder.

  Ben said to his father, “We have to keep an eye on him.”

  His father gripped the walking stick, his knuckles white. He was looking just a shade better than Norm. It couldn’t be the heat or physical exertion. The man was up before the crack of dawn every day, working his ass off. He may have just been worried about what they’d find. Anything that could put its mark on three generations had power that was wise to respect. “I think we’re going to have our jobs cut out for us.”

  He offered some Big Red to Norm, who happily took a stick, tucking the foil wrapper in his pocket. “A little cinnamon boost never hurts.”

  Their footsteps chuffed up the tower’s steps, everyone following the octogenarian, trying to keep up with him. The view from the top was breathtaking.

  Norm’s labored breathing caught Ben’s attention. The TV cryptozoologist leaned heavily against a rail. He caught his eye and said, “I’ll be all right. This is what happens when you spend most days sitting on your ass being entertained by your cat. Even when I’m out in the field, I tend to take the road most traveled . . . and level.”