by Hunter Shea
Boompa pulled back the hammer on his Colt. The heavy click stopped Leeds cold.
“Now, I’m not here asking you to take me to the Leeds home. An old drunk like you, here’s your chance to do something good for a change. The Devil that your family birthed has company. Lots of company. I just lost my son to them, and I’m in no mood to debate with you. They also have my grandson. I aim to get him back.”
Leeds scratched his wiry hair. “What do you mean, company?”
“We killed a few dozen of them just an hour ago. And there’s more. They’re tearing through the Barrens like locusts.”
The door opened wide.
Gordon Leeds rummaged around his couch. It was covered, like every other piece of furniture in the small living room, with old clothes, books and garbage.
April said, “Is he from the same family that started the legend?”
Boompa kept his gun trained on the man. “Eleventh generation, if I recall correctly. There’s quite a few Leedses still milling around, and they’re not hard to find. Old Gordon here is the black sheep. I was afraid he’d be dead by now. Hard to fathom how people can still believe that the Jersey Devil ate the entire family when they’ve been living and procreating just fine for over two hundred years.”
“He knows where the original house is?” Ben asked, startling April just a bit.
“Yep, and we’re the only ones outside of his family that will see it. Rumor has it that he’s one of the few who remembers. I’ve heard that the family steers clear of him because of his belief in what the rest consider their curse. I came down here twenty years ago on the sly, looking for Leeds. Found a couple nice enough to let me bend their ear. After a few drinks, one of them slipped about old Gordon here. They used the word eccentric when they didn’t say he was outright crazy. He wasn’t around then, but I saved his address just in case. Somehow, I knew he was would be our man when the time came.”
Gordon Leeds returned with a wool cap on his head and a shotgun. “I’m sorry about your loss,” he said. “Seeing as I don’t have much say in the matter, we better get going. How’re your legs?” he asked Boompa.
“Still moving,” Boompa said, his gun pointed squarely at Leed’s forehead. The ancient man didn’t even seem to notice.
“Good, you’re gonna need ’em. We can only go so far in that van of yours.”
“Point that shotgun the wrong way and it won’t go well for you,” Boompa said.
They ambled into the van. April took Leeds’s shotgun from him for safekeeping. As Ben started the engine, Gordon said, “I spent a lifetime worrying about something like this. Everyone thought I was crazy, but I guess now they’ll know better. You say he has children. That’s not a first.”
April saw her grandfather’s face turn ashen. He quickly looked away.
Leeds continued, “But a lot of them, that’s not how it works. You say you’ve killed dozens of them? That I find hard to believe.”
April turned around in her seat to face him. She kicked the lid of the cooler off. “Open one of those bags if you need goddamn proof.”
He did just that, whistling with amazement as he peered at one of the bodies. That one had a face that disturbingly bordered on human. He looked to Boompa. “Maybe if you showed me this first, I would have come without you having to point that gun at me.”
Boompa exhaled, the Colt firmly in his grip. “That’s a chance I didn’t have time to take.”
* * *
To Daryl’s chagrin, Jane the wild woman didn’t take him to a water source. Cramps knifed his stomach. When he tensed, the pain in his cracked ribs intensified. All he wanted to do now was lie down and sleep until the next day.
They came upon a six-foot high column of stones. Jane pointed.
“Down . . . there.”
He looked at her dubiously. “What’s down there? I’m not in the mood to be lured into another pit.”
She savagely shook her head.
“Down!”
He cautiously moved closer to the stones. They looked like they could have been part of a wall or chimney about a hundred years ago. Green moss grew in patches.
“You stay in front of me,” he said.
For once, she did what he asked of her. She kept giving furtive looks to the sky, which made him think she was expecting company, and not the good kind.
This was no pit. He looked down at the remains of what was probably once somebody’s home. The sunken foundation was a perfect square. It was old, redolent with the scent of centuries of abandonment. There was what looked to be the opening of a tunnel across from him, an opening into pitch blackness.
“Is this where the Jersey Devil stays?” he asked, pointing at the shadowed recess.
Jane nodded, her eyes wide and frightened.
“Where is it now?”
“Away.”
“With your babies?”
Again with her furtive head nod.
What happened to her to make her think she had a bond with these creatures?
If she was right, there was a chance, a slim one, that he could end things right here.
You’re out of your mind. You’re hurt, exhausted, thirsty, starving and all you have is a knife against the Jersey Devil and all those other ones. You wouldn’t stand a chance.
But what if an opportunity presents itself when I can maybe get at the big one? Would the rest fall back? Or would they have me for lunch as revenge?
“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.
Chapter Thirty-seven
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.
Oh, my God! It’s going to rape me! This can’t be happening!
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.
I’m coming, you goddamn monster.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Jane lay in the dirt, listening to the women’s cries.
You’ll be crying a lot harder soon. And again and again and again. It will never get easier.
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!”
