by R. Gualtieri
She didn’t dare let hope slow her steps. She'd seen enough monster movies sitting by Mike's side to know that letting down her guard was a death sentence.
Abigail turned back toward the road, intent on winning this race, when she slammed into something. Dazed, she stumbled back. Sadly, all thought that she might have hit nothing more than a tree was erased as strong hands grasped her shoulders, digging into her skin.
Fetid breath washed down upon her as whatever it was leaned in closer.
“Hello, Sarah.”
CHAPTER 6
If there was one downside to their job, Derek considered – aside from the possibility of being mauled to death – it was that their government connections almost never afforded them any perks when it came to flying. The flight down from Anchorage was fine in itself, but the connection they caught in Denver was overcrowded and turbulent. Flying through a storm somewhere over Ohio, Francis had nervously joked about incurring the wrath of the Thunderbird, eliciting recognition from some fans of the show that happened to be aboard. A flurry of questions and several autograph requests didn’t make the flight any more comfortable.
By the time the plane touched down in Newark, Derek was seriously tempted to blow their cover and present his badge just to get people to leave them alone. Fortunately, they were able to regain some level of obscurity again in the crowded terminal. Their gear, being of a slightly more sensitive nature, was being shipped by special courier. They only needed to grab a few bags before making their escape.
Fortunately, Norah was good to her word, as Derek knew she would be. Off in a special VIP section of the long-term lot sat their rides – two gleaming black SUVs. Behind one was a trailer, in which rested two similarly colored ATVs. The vehicles were unmarked. About two years back, Francis had suggested having them detailed with the show’s logo so as to make them look less ominous, but Derek had shot it down. Doing so ran the risk of fans spotting them and trying to take a closer look. Though the windows were fully tinted and the locks military grade, there was always the chance that someone would get more of an eyeful than they should and see that his team were carrying cargo slightly more lethal than camera equipment.
As usual, Mitchell groused when they came to the vehicles. Their small fleet had once included a van formerly used for FBI surveillance, but converted to a highly capable mobile lab. It had been damaged beyond repair during the Bonanza Creek debacle. Government budget cuts hadn’t yet allowed for a replacement, and no more hand-me-downs had come their way.
“I’m told Rutgers has a lab less than an hour away from the site we’re investigating and we’ll have full access to it,” Derek mentioned in passing.
“Just as long as it has doors that lock,” Mitchell grumbled before climbing into one of the SUVs with Francis. Derek took the other with Danni, tossing her the keys.
“Napping or research?” she asked as she climbed behind the wheel of the massive vehicle.
“We have at least an hour and a half to the capital ... probably longer if we hit some of that famous Jersey traffic, so maybe a little of both.”
♦ ♦ ♦
“I’m gonna go grab something to eat. You in?”
Arthur Killian, a chem-bio major in his junior year, looked up from his notes. “Can’t. I have a test tomorrow in molecular biology. I want to get my studying done early so I don’t have to call off work later.”
His roommate Leo Kelsey shrugged. “Hard to pass a test if you pass out from hunger first.”
“Even harder to pass if you haven’t picked up your textbook in over a month.” Arthur pointed at the unopened physics book lying atop a pile of his roommate’s clothes.
“I’ve picked it up.”
“Dropping it doesn’t count.”
“Baby steps, bro.” Leo opened the door. “Later.”
“Later,” Arthur replied absentmindedly, his focus already back on his notes.
His roommate walked out with an unconcerned chuckle that didn’t surprise Arthur. Introduction to Physics was nothing more than an elective to fill Leo’s graduation requirements. He didn’t much care what grade he got as long as he passed. And, considering he had a roommate he could hit up for advice right before the final, he probably would pass, even if it was by the skin of his teeth.
Truth be told, it didn’t bother Arthur much, even though Leo was pretty much using him as a means to avoid doing any real coursework. Besides, being quizzed on the basics wasn’t a bad thing. It kept his mind sharp.
And he needed his wits about him assisting Dr. Reingold in the lab. The cellular biology professor was a stickler for detail. Arthur normally wouldn’t have even gotten his foot in the door, except there was a shortage of graduate TAs this year due to recent tuition increases for the master’s program. Their misfortune, however, had been his gain.
Now it was on him to hold up his end of the work while maintaining the GPA which had gotten him the position to begin with.
His phone rang and he was once more interrupted from his studies.
Speak of the devil, he thought as he saw who was calling. “Hey, Dr. Reingold,” he answered cheerfully, despite being slightly annoyed. Reingold wasn’t one to call unless there was a good reason, though, so Arthur pushed those feelings aside so he could pay attention.
“Extra shifts?” he replied after the professor was finished. “Yeah, I’m available, but how many do you need? I have a test coming up in...”
He stopped talking as the voice on the other end continued.
“Are you serious?! Sorry, professor. I mean, yes ... I’ve heard of them. No, no! It’s not a bother at all. I just double-checked my schedule and I’m definitely free. Yes. However long they ... I mean, you need me. Thank you, sir!”
Arthur hung up, the notes in front of him all but forgotten. A knot of nervous anticipation was beginning to worm its way through his guts. The call had been quick and to the point, Reingold’s style, but it wasn’t the conversation itself that had him all flustered as much as the subject.
He glanced up at the wall above his bed and the poster that hung there. A blonde, bikini-clad goddess stared down at him from it. She was stretched across a statue of a sea monster, her bright smile infinitely more appealing than the dour scowls that seemed to be all the rage for fashion models these days. Printed in the lower right-hand corner was the logo for her TV show – The Crypto Hunter.
Arthur had just been told that the entire cast was on their way to his school. Not only that, but they needed access to one of the labs too, for whatever reason. Reingold had called to see if he’d be interested in assisting them for however long they’d be there. The professor obviously considered this an assignment more worthy of a lowly assistant, and Arthur wasn’t about to correct him.
In all reality, it might very well be nothing more than a babysitting assignment. After all, as far as he was concerned, the show had about as much basis in reality as professional wrestling. But it was entertaining nevertheless, so what did it really matter?
He glanced down at his notes and considered things. He knew the subject matter fairly well. The odds were still in his favor. And, even if they weren’t, getting to meet the show’s newest costar was well worth failing one stupid test.
♦ ♦ ♦
Eric Zeist waited for his boss to finish his call. He knew better than to interrupt. It didn’t take long to discover that working for Governor Jonas Yarlberg entailed very little leeway. You either did what he wanted you to do, the way he wanted it done, or your tenure on his staff would be a short one. There wasn’t much room for discussion to the contrary, aside from maybe asking when your last paycheck would be mailed out.
As the chief of Yarlberg’s personal security detail, Eric had to deal with more than his fair share of the man’s quirks. Eric was a pragmatic man, though. The pay for his position was good and the prestige was even better. It was worth the aggravation or uncertainty of knowing what his next assignment might be.
“Just
do your damn job, Reg.” The governor hung up the phone and stared sourly at it for several seconds, as if daring it to ring again. Finally, he turned his pudgy face toward Eric, his way of letting his subordinates know it was okay to speak.
“Everything on the up and up, sir?”
Yarlberg scoffed. “Tell me, Eric, what’s the point in having a fucking press secretary if I have to hold the man’s hand every step of the way?”
It was a rhetorical question, but Eric knew better than to stand there silently. Obviously his boss had a point he was trying to make. “I’m not sure I can answer that, sir.”
“It’s all about deflection.” The governor reached into his desk, pulled out a candy bar, and began tearing the wrapper off. “Lord knows the assholes in the press aren’t stupid enough to expect honest answers these days, so why bother trying to give them one? Just tell them an investigation is underway and no details are forthcoming. Gives them something to hand to their editors. Makes them all happy so they can go home, fuck their wives, and bother me about something else tomorrow. This isn’t rocket science.”
“If you say so.”
“And that pussy Donald is no better. I swear, he’d crack like an egg if he so much as saw a microphone pointed his way.”
Eric nodded. Now it was making sense. Donald Krychech was the head of the agency in charge of environmental protection. His group was currently in the hot seat – something to do with a toxic spill on protected land. Eric didn’t really care about the details. The only reason his agency wasn’t being roasted alive on the airwaves was because the press was busy focusing on what they were trying to spin as a new serial killer on the loose. Problem was, this alleged killer’s hunting ground seemed to coincide with the area that Krychech’s people were busy trying to keep everyone’s eyes off of. In short, it was only a matter of time before the shit hit the fan and Yarlberg went through the roof.
Fortunately, that was the reason for Eric interrupting the governor’s day. “Hopefully that won’t be the case, sir.”
“You have news?”
“I do,” Eric replied, still standing. The governor almost never invited his staff to sit. “That ... team you requested. They’re on the ground and heading here.”
“It’s about goddamned time.”
“If I may be so bold as to ask, sir, what exactly are a bunch of D-rate actors going to do to help this situation?”
The governor sat back in his chair, a satisfied grin appearing on his face as he munched on the chocolate bar. Eric knew that look well. It was probably a good thing his boss didn’t have a gambling addiction in addition to his other vices. He had a terrible poker face.
“Appearances can be deceiving. Fortunately, I am in a position where I have friends who are able to help me see more clearly than most.”
“I’m not following.”
Yarlberg opened a different drawer in his desk. Eric assumed it would be to pull out another snack, but he instead produced a file folder which he held out. “Here. Read through this. It’ll make it all clear.”
Eric took the file and opened it. He immediately noticed the security classification stamped on the first page. “Um, sir, I’m not sure I should be...”
“Hogwash. I’ll determine who has a need to know and I say you do.”
Suddenly, Eric found himself wishing he’d thought to record this conversation. “If you say so.”
“I do. After you read through that, you’ll know what I mean. By inviting them here, they’ll throw off the scent of those press hounds. But the best part is, they might actually be of use in solving this mess before it turns into a full-blown shit storm.”
Eric nodded, not entirely sure what the governor was talking about. However, he planned to make good use of the two hours he had to bring himself up to speed. “So you want me to roll out the red carpet, treat them like VIPs?”
“Quite the contrary.” Yarlberg crumbled up the candy wrapper and tossed it toward the trash can, missing it completely. “I’ve dealt with these types before. Give them an inch, they’ll take a mile and ask for more. No. I want you and your team to make it crystal clear to them who’s in charge here. They’re to be kept on a very short leash. They step out of line, you smack them back into it.”
“But...”
“But nothing. Do as I’ve told you and let me worry about the rest. I have it handled.”
Eric debated questioning his boss, but then thought better of it. He had no love of the feds anyway, having been turned down several years earlier when he tried to apply to the FBI straight out of school. He knew it was petty to take that out on people he’d never met, but the governor was pretty clear on his marching orders. He figured he might as well have some fun with it.
“Any more questions?”
Eric hesitated for a moment, then shook his head.
“Good.” Yarlberg picked up the phone and dialed. “Reggie? It’s me again. I want you to arrange a press conference. Yeah. For today. Yes, I know it’s short notice...”
Eric knew he’d been dismissed. He turned and walked from the governor’s office, glancing down at the folder in his hands.
He had some reading to do, and apparently he needed to be quick about it.
CHAPTER 7
Route 1 proved to be closer, in actual practice, to a parking lot than a major highway, but at least it gave the team plenty of time to compare notes. Derek patched in the other vehicle via cell phone, although he knew it would mostly be Mitchell doing the talking. Francis was typically more interested in shooting than research, whether it was with a camera or a gun.
Derek went over the basic details of the case. He knew everyone had read the briefing beforehand, but he always liked to make sure they were all on the same page, especially since they had a meet and greet scheduled at the state capital before being allowed to do their jobs.
“Probably want to make sure we dance like good monkeys,” Francis commented.
After Derek was done, Danni recounted her notes from the archive files.
“See what I mean about it being a dead end?” Derek remarked when she had finished.
“Yeah, I guess so,” she replied, still inching along with the traffic. “Although that whole town-wide exorcism was a little freaky.”
“Leave that stuff to the ghost hunters,” Mitchell said from over the speaker.
“Mitch is right,” Derek replied. “I’m not quite ready to chalk this up to the metaphysical. Besides, if there is a devil, I’m sure there are far more interesting places for him than some unoccupied marshlands.”
Danni shrugged. “I know. I’m not trying to suggest there’s anything supernatural here. It’s just weird. That priest put on a show for everyone and voila, the Jersey Devil mysteriously stayed quiet for sixty years.”
“Coincidence,” Francis said.
“More likely it was power of suggestion,” Mitchell offered. “The locals believed their personal boogeyman was banished, so he was. They told their kids and so on. Fast forward a couple of generations, people start to forget the stories. Tensions are running high. The U.S. is just pulling out of the Great Depression, and suddenly Germany is beating the war drums again. People needed a distraction so, much like magic, the devil showed up again.”
“And then people got distracted in a whole other direction by World War Two,” Danni surmised.
“Exactly.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“Nothing about this cryptid makes a lot of sense,” Derek replied. “That’s why nobody takes it seriously. It has all the hallmarks of an urban legend that just won’t die.”
“Isn’t that why we’re here?” joked Francis, making a kapow noise.
“I doubt it. My guess would be those people simply got lost.”
Mitchell chimed in to agree. “The Barrens are half forest, half swamp. They could have easily fallen in a sinkhole or stepped in some quicksand.”
“Not a pleasant way to g
o,” Danni said.
Derek chuckled. “Contrary to popular belief, outside of dying in my sleep of extreme old age, I can’t think of too many ways to go that I would classify as pleasant.”
“Death by snu-snu comes to mind,” Francis replied from the speaker.
“What’s that?” Danni asked.
“You don’t watch much TV, do you?”
“Never have.”
“Your loss. It’s a damn funny show.”
Derek sighed. “Can we stay on topic, please?”
“Yes, Mom,” Francis replied with a laugh.
“The other possibility, as I see it,” Mitchell said, steering the conversation back toward being serious, “is human-related.”
“Murder?” Danni asked.
“Maybe.”
“What do we do if that’s the case?”
“Call America’s Most Wanted,” Francis replied. “That’s more their line of work.”
Derek nodded toward the speaker and said, “We call in the authorities and bow out gracefully. I don’t care who’s pulling the strings – we’re not anyone’s private police force.”
♦ ♦ ♦
The rest of the trip was spent discussing the flora and fauna of the Pine Barrens and considering whether any native species might be responsible for the disappearances. Alas, there weren’t many top predators to point the finger at. Black bears were known in the area, but encounters with them were usually easily avoided. Everything else was either too small or a prey animal. More and more, Derek began to suspect the true culprit was simply human error. People got lost in the woods and died. It was something that, unfortunately, happened. One didn’t need a swamp monster or living dinosaur to blame for ninety-nine percent of such happenings.
At last, they entered the Trenton city limits. Francis commented, “Lovely. Reminds me of Detroit,” right before Derek disconnected the call. It was time to focus on finding their destination amidst the winding streets.
A few minutes later, having been guided by GPS, Derek informed Danni, “Pull into that garage.”
