by Hunter Shea
“Where the hell did he come from?” Rose said, grabbing Jean’s hand to steady herself. “He couldn’t have just dropped from the sky!”
“What happened?” Allison shouted from the back of the pack.
Everyone rushed forward, then instantly regretted it. People were, retching, crying out or both.
“How . . . how did, I mean . . .” Eddie was at a loss for words.
Jean looked up into the thick trees. He didn’t see a thing.
“He . . . he fell . . . he . . .” Rose trembled, unable to finish her sentence. Allison saw her husband and went into hysterics.
For a moment, Jean heard nothing. Everything around him faded into the distance, a constant but unintelligible thrum.
So it was with deaf ears that he saw Dawn, then Allison, tears streaking down their faces, get pulled into the untamed edges of the trail. He knew Rose was digging her nails into his arm, but he couldn’t register the pain.
Jim shouted something, and a huge, mottled wing sprang from behind a tree, wrapped him within the folds and pulled him out of sight.
One by one, all of the hikers disappeared.
But he could tell where some of them had gone.
Terrific spurts of blood erupted from the high foliage. It was like stepping through one of those fountain walks in the city, the kind where thin jets of water would spout intermittently from small holes in the ground.
He turned to his wife.
Two creatures, alien beings that reminded him of pictures of demons he’d seen in old Bibles when he went to Catholic high school, came out of nowhere, crawling over her like child-sized bugs. She collapsed under their weight, struggling, screaming, bleeding, but he couldn’t hear or help her.
It wasn’t until he felt something sharp rip into his back that his senses returned.
But by then, it was too late to even cry for help.
Chapter Thirty-one
They didn’t get to a main road until eight in the morning. It was another hot and muggy start. Carol’s bones felt as if they’d been liquefied. The only thing keeping her going, keeping any of them moving forward, was Daryl.
She used a map to direct Ben where to go. Navigation systems and cell phones were useless out here.
“How far a drive will it be?” her son asked, taking a turn a little too fast. The old van creaked like a battered warship. For a terrifying moment, she thought it was going to tip over.
“We can’t find Daryl if you kill us,” April said, clinging to the dashboard.
Ben didn’t say anything in return.
Carol looked at the map. “It looks like a forty-mile drive, all southeast. We need to get to the coast.”
Looking over at Boompa, she was glad to see he’d taken the time in the car to take a power nap. Norm’s eyelids looked like they were getting heavy as well. Her husband stroked her back, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “We’re going to find him,” he said.
“I know we will.”
It was hard to see the map through the blur of tears.
We got it all wrong, she thought. We thought we knew everything, and it’s cost us everything. Something’s happened, and it has to have been recent. If not, people would have seen these things in droves. And the marks mean something more than we thought. They could have killed us all that first night, just like they did that Piney clan. They’re saving us for a reason. Maybe the same reason they can find us so easily. But why did they take Daryl?
The van hit a pothole. Carol bounced from her seat, the top of her head smashing the van’s roof.
“To get us to come to them,” she muttered.
“What’s that?” Bill said.
“I think they’re using Daryl as bait. Even if we make a wrong turn, they know exactly where to find us. They’ll just corral us in the right direction. They need us for something.”
“Maybe there’s a chance we’ve upset their plans, made them change their minds after last night. We thinned their herd and showed them that we’re not afraid,” he said.
“Maybe.”
What she didn’t say was, There’s a good chance they think you’re part of their family. We’re all here now, and they want a reunion. But something had them stirred up before we came here. Did we really make it worse?
She, Boompa and Norm didn’t have the Jersey Devil mark. She wondered what the Devils had in mind for them.
A quick burst from the police scanner caught their attention.
“I need you to stop over at one-nineteen Bevins Street. We have a report of someone’s dog being stolen from the yard.”
“Copy that. Did they see who took it?”
“This is going to sound weird, but they said it was some kind of bird.”
“Could have been a hawk. Some of those toy dogs are awful small.”
“The dog was a Saint Bernard.”
Carol looked to the street listings on the big map. Bevins Street was three towns away, southeast of their location.
“We’re headed in the right direction,” she said.
She rubbed her forehead, closing her eyes tight.
* * *
Daryl was both grateful and unhappy about the sun. It was great to finally see where he was going—and what could be spying on him. So far, he and the deranged woman seemed to be on their own, Devil free. But it was already hotter than a bull’s temper and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a drink.
Maybe when she woke up, she could lead them to water. It was obvious she’d been out here a long time. She had to know places to find food and water.
Having her so close, draped over his shoulder, was no picnic. She stunk to holy hell and her flesh felt strange and oily.
“I need a break.”
He bent to a knee, carefully placing her on the ground. Leaning back against a tree, he wiped copious beads of sweat from his forehead, shutting his eyes for a bit.
Birds chattered in every direction. Cracking his eyelids open, he spotted a squirrel leaping from branch to branch above him. Looking down, he fixated on the matching mark on the woman’s side.
“Like it or not, you’re one of us.”
She must have been more fragile than she’d felt when she was attacking him. She’d been out for hours. He hoped he hadn’t hit her hard enough to cause any kind of brain damage.
Leaning closer, he pushed a coarse, matted lock of hair from the side of her face. There was a time she’d been a pretty woman. He could tell by her high cheekbones, perfect sloping nose and full lips. Maybe under all that filth, she still was.
But it would take a team of doctors and shrinks to erase the crazy from her eyes.
He couldn’t believe that the first time he’d see a woman naked was under these circumstances. This was definitely not what he’d fantasized about all those years. Sure, he’d gotten his hand up a few shirts with his brief relationships, but he was far behind most guys his age. He was hoping to change all that when he went away to college.
She moaned at his touch. He pulled his hand away.
“Please, if you wake up, be calm. I’m too frigging tired for round two.”
Gritting his teeth, he let his fingertips brush against her face. “Hey, are you okay? It would be nice if I didn’t have to carry you anymore.”
Her mouth twitched and her legs stretched.
In an instant, she was awake, crouched on all fours, glaring at him.
Daryl flinched, immediately on the defensive.
“Hey, hey, hey, I’m sorry I had to coldcock you back there, but you went a little psycho on me. I’m not going to hurt you . . . again.”
For some reason, he expected her to growl, maybe take a swipe at him. She didn’t take her eyes off him, red-rimmed white orbs lost in a sea of grime.
He held his hands up, showing her his palms. “Friends?”
I wonder if she even speaks English?
A mosquito landed on his nose. When he swatted it away, the woman jumped to her feet, taking several steps back.
She’s lactating!
Which meant that she’d had a baby recently. Where the hell was it?
“Do you have a baby?”
She cocked her head, studying him. He pointed at her leaking, mangled breasts. It didn’t register with the wild woman.
“You know, a baby?” He made a rocking motion with his arms. A line of drool fell from the corner of her mouth. Maybe she’d lost the baby. It was easy to believe. This was no place to raise a child. Out here, without proper food, shelter or medical care, a common cold could be deadly
“This isn’t working.” He slowly stood up. “I have to find someone and get the hell out of here. You’re free to come with me, or go back to wherever you’ve been keeping yourself. But I’d prefer it if you stuck with me.”
At least she wasn’t attacking him. So, there was improvement.
“I know. Maybe you’ll understand this.”
He lifted the corner of his shirt, revealing his birthmark.
The woman’s hands fluttered to her open mouth. She made a strange, strangled sigh.
He pointed to her mark. “See, just like you.”
She looked to the sky, her eyes opening wider, if that was even possible.
She started walking. When he didn’t follow, she stopped, motioning with her hands for him to follow.
“Where are we going?”
The woman resumed walking. She was headed in the direction he’d been going anyway, so it couldn’t hurt to let her take the lead. Plus, he was curious. How did she get her mark? If she lived out here, she had to know about the Devils. The question was, how would they be able to communicate?
She picked up the pace, speed walking as she weaved through the trees.
Daryl did his best to keep up with her, his ribs aching with each labored breath.
* * *
“See, canoeing can be fun.”
“Yeah, it’s not so bad.”
“Are we gonna hit any rapids?”
“Not here, and not in a canoe, no.”
Chase Mincin swore that he was going to break out of the rut with his biweekly visitation with his sons, and so far it was working out pretty well.
Dylan and Dean usually slept late on Saturdays, got up long enough to eat a late breakfast before settling on the couch, glued to their various electronic devices, sometimes texting each other even though they were two feet apart. Chase, not wanting to upset them, let them do whatever made them happy. The last thing he wanted was for them to go back to Maya bitching about their awful weekend with the dad who had abandoned them.
If only they were old enough to know the truth.
No matter, this was the weekend to try to change the dynamic. The divorce was now a year old and he needed to find ways to really connect with his sons.
Renting a canoe and taking them out on the Wading River, just like he and his father used to do, seemed like the perfect start.
Dean used his oar to splash water on his younger brother.
“Frig, that’s cold!” Dylan said, retaliating. Chase caught some of the spray. Instead of scolding them, he laughed, dousing them both.
But he did say, “Okay, that’s enough for the moment. We don’t want to fill the boat with water.”
“We have the canoe all day, right?” Dylan asked.
“Yep. We can take our time. I thought we could set ashore at one point and do a little exploring.”
“Really?” Dean said.
“Sure, why not? You never know what you’ll find out here. I had a nice Indian arrowhead collection when I was your age. I found most of them just by walking around the woods.”
He heard a heavy splash ahead of them, somewhere past the bend in the river.
“What was that?” Dylan said.
“There might be an outcropping of rock ahead. People could be jumping off it to swim.”
“Can we swim, too?”
“You guys don’t have bathing suits.”
Dean said, “That doesn’t matter. Our clothes will dry in the sun anyway.”
Chase was loving every minute. He’d spent all week worrying for nothing. Sure, they’d bitched about leaving their phones and iPods behind, but they hadn’t asked about them once since they got on the river.
“You’re right. We’ll just have to make sure we take our sneakers off.”
The boys seemed to paddle even harder, eager to get to the swimming spot.
As they coasted around the bend, Chase was surprised to see nothing but a long stretch of river. There was no outcropping, no sign of anyone around.
“Where is everybody?” Dylan said.
“I don’t know.”
“Can we still swim?”
“Sure, but we need to find a good place to park the canoe.”
Strange. Maybe that splash was a heron diving into the water for a fish. But it had sounded awful big.
As he turned to tell his boys to be on the lookout for a good docking point, something exploded from beneath the water in front of the canoe. Dylan and Dean screamed. Chase pulled his paddle up, holding it across his chest.
A creature of unimaginable horror rose out of the water.
His first instinct was to strike at the animal with the paddle. He heard the thunk of wood on bone, felt the vibration from the direct hit. It squealed, diving back under the water.
The canoe rocked from side to side. His sons wailed in frozen panic.
“It’s gone! It’s gone!” he reassured them. They tumbled forward into his open arms.
“What was that, Dad?” Dylan asked between stuttering sobs.
“I don’t know. But I think I scared it off pretty good.”
He had to hold back a burst of hysterical laughter. His heart was trip-hammering.
“I want to go home,” Dean said.
“Yes, yes, I’ll get us back to the car. You both just sit right here and stay close to me.”
With trembling hands, he dipped the paddle in the water to start to turn the boat around. Chase cried out when the paddle was yanked from his grip, disappearing under the water.
Before he had time to reach for the other paddle, the canoe was tipped onto its side. Chase, Dean and Dylan went splashing into the water.
Something smashed hard into Chase, flipping him in the air. He looked down at his sons, saw the naked terror in their faces as they flailed desperately to stay afloat.
“Daddy!” they cried in unison.
Chase saw a stream of blood pour down on them, realizing it was coming from him. He spun, now facing the clouds. What looked like enormous bats streaked to him like seagulls to chum. Jagged teeth locked onto his body and he was no longer falling.
No, he was going higher.
He could once again see his sons.
The world started going black when he saw the terrible thing wrap Dylan and Dean in its wings. He couldn’t hear them anymore. When he tried to scream their names, he found he didn’t have the strength to speak.
He sped over the treetops, his life bleeding away, carried by demons.
Chapter Thirty-two
They hadn’t seen another soul for the past fifteen minutes on the small, two-lane road. Speeding past the famed pygmy pines, full-grown pine trees that only stood four feet high or less, Sam leaned forward, gazing out the front window. The landscape unsettled him, the tiny trees looking like a forest recovering from an apocalyptic event. He spotted something ahead.
“Slow down, Ben,” he said.
His grandson saw the thing in the middle of the road at the same time. He eased the van to a stop several feet from it.
Sam hustled to get out of the van.
“Jesus Christopher Columbus.”
It had been a deer. A pretty big buck.
Now it was simply an exploded bag of meat and blood. The
splatter marks stretched to both sides of the road.
“That’s disgusting,” April said beside him. “It must have gotten hit by a semi.”
“It wasn’t hit by any car or truck,” Sam said. “It was dropped here.”
“You gotta be shitting me,” April shot back.
“Either that or it strapped an explosive vest to its chest,” Ben said, his eyes unblinking as he stared at the grisly remains. Dropping down, he dipped his finger into a particularly vile puddle of blood and organs. “It’s still warm. That’s one fresh water balloon.”
Norm bent to get a closer look. “I think you’re right. If it was hit, you’d see a blood pattern fanning out in the direction opposite from where it was h-h-hit. Looking at the c-circumference, I’d say it was l-let go from a tremendous height.”
Sam reached into his pocket just to feel the Colt pistol he’d put there when they got in the van. What he wouldn’t give to have one of those Jersey Devils right here in front of him. He’d leave one hell of a mess for the roadkill crew to clean.
Bill said, “I guess we all know how it got here. If it’s a fresh kill, we have to be really close.”
Ben said, “Let’s get back in the van.”
He made a wide berth around the carcass.
As Ben drove, Sam spotted more animals on the sides of the road, one of them a dog, impaled on a pygmy pine. It looked as if the dog’s throat had been ripped open before it was unceremoniously ditched.
No one said a word, but the tension in the van was thick enough to reinforce steel.
The police scanner came alive with strange reports everywhere. People were seeing things in the sky and on the ground. Someone called in what he thought was a squadron of silent helicopters flying over his house. It seemed that witnesses couldn’t come to grips with what they were seeing, so they equated it with things that made more sense to them.
During one dispatch about a winged creature that was on someone’s jungle gym in their yard, they heard the responding officer quip, “They have a Jersey Devil that wanted to go down their slide?”
The dispatcher chuckled. “Could be.”
They may be laughing now, but not for much longer, Sam thought.
The Devils were riled up and mad as hell. April kept her head out the window, scanning the skies.
