Cryptid Quest: A Supernatural Thriller (The John Decker Supernatural Thriller Series Book 8)

by Anthony M. Strong

  “Whatever. Like your education is so much—”

  Silverman never finished the sentence, thanks to the guttural roar that echoed out of the gloom between the trees.

  “What was that?” Weatherby took an instinctual step backwards.

  “Thunder?” Cassie peered skyward. “There is a storm on the way. Pretty soon it’ll be raining so hard we’ll drown if we don’t get these tents up.”

  “That didn’t sound like thunder.”

  “No, it didn’t,” Silverman said. “It was an animal.”

  “Easy, people. We are in the rainforest. There are all sorts of critters out here.” Granger stood up and looked around. “The sooner we build a fire, the better.”

  “I’ve been in the rainforest before,” Silverman said. “I’ve never heard a roar like that.”

  “And you’re the expert, what with your advanced degree and all,” Cassie quipped, but the tremble in her voice betrayed her fear.

  “Quiet,” Granger said, waving a hand toward his companions. “I hear something moving through the trees.”

  “I don’t hear anything,” Silverman said.

  “I hear it. Listen.” Weatherby’s eyes drifted toward the canopy above them. “It’s in the branches. Getting closer.”

  Now they all heard it. A rustling that grew steadily louder, closing in on their location.

  “What is that?” Cassie asked. “Do you think it’s monkeys?”

  “It sounds too big.” Granger shook his head. “Besides, we haven’t heard any monkeys since we came down here.”

  “We’ve heard no animals at all,” Weatherby said.

  “Except whatever made that roar.” Cassie swallowed hard. Her eyes were wide with fear. “And it’s coming right toward us.”

  “I don’t like this.” Silverman took a step backwards. “Does anyone have a gun?”

  “I do.” Granger bent and rummaged in his pack. He came up a moment later with a pistol.

  “That’s it?” Silverman looked disappointed.

  “What did you expect me to have in there, a rocket launcher?”

  “I don’t know. Something bigger than that.”

  “Just stay here.” Granger took a deep breath and moved away from the group, holding the gun with trembling hands. He lifted his eyes skyward, examining the tree branches above, even as the rustling grew closer.

  It sounded like it was right above them.

  Then it stopped.

  Granger stood a while, the gun pointed skyward, then he relaxed. “Whatever it is has gone now.”

  He took a step back toward the group. Before he could take a second, something dropped out of the canopy. A creature with dark, leathery wings, and an elongated head sporting a mouth full of sharp white teeth. It gripped Granger’s shoulders with curved claws and flew back upward.

  The terrified man let out a shriek as his feet lost contact with the ground. And then he was dragged swiftly up, disappearing into the leafy canopy above even as he struggled against his attacker. A moment later, his frantic screams abruptly cut off.

  For a few seconds no one moved, too stunned to react. Then, as more roars filled the surrounding jungle, and impossible beasts crashed through the trees, the group finally found the will to run.

  4

  Christmas Eve.

  Portland, Maine.

  John Decker parked up in the driveway of the three-bedroom home CUSP had provided for him and Nancy while they got settled and found a place of their own. He went to the trunk and removed the items he purchased on the way home after spending the day at his employer’s island facility, completing yet more rigorous training. Sometimes he wondered if it would ever end. He’d been back from Las Vegas for over a month, and they had offered him no new assignment.

  This was fine, up to a point.

  Some of that time had been used for the move from Mississippi, and Decker was still getting used to his new environment. He’d forgotten just how cold northern winters could be. And the worst of it wasn’t even here yet. It hadn’t yet snowed.

  He was well aware of the misery the fluffy white stuff would bring. He’d worked in New York for many years as a homicide detective and seen his fair share of snowstorms. Nancy, on the other hand, had not. He wondered how well she would fare once winter unleashed its full fury.

  But it had been her idea to move, and she’d reassured him that the cold weather would be met with the same stoic perseverance with which she greeted all the obstacles in her life. So here they were.

  He slammed the trunk and headed toward the house, climbing the front steps and doing his best to open the door quietly. The bags were full of presents for Nancy, even though she’d said there was nothing she wanted except a quiet Christmas snuggled up with him in front of the fire. His efforts of stealth failed.

  Nancy called out from the kitchen. “John, is that you?”

  “Yes. I’ll be with you in a moment.” He made his way upstairs to the third bedroom. This was his domain, kitted out as an office complete with a secure link to the island. A place where he could work without interruption should CUSP require it. So far all he’d used it for was staying out of Nancy’s way when she was on a tear unpacking the stacks of moving boxes piled in the garage. Decker had reminded her that this accommodation would probably be temporary, but she was having none of it. Given the likelihood that Decker would end up on a new assignment sooner rather than later, she figured they were going to be here for a while. She wanted to be comfortable.

  She also wanted to make the place feel as homey as possible for Taylor, Nancy’s daughter, who was attending college in Boston, and had made the trip up to Maine for the holidays. Currently, Taylor was occupying the other spare bedroom, from which Decker could hear loud music playing.

  Decker stashed the bags in the closet and went back downstairs, closing and locking the office door behind him. He would wrap them later. When he entered the kitchen, Nancy was busy preparing their meal for the next day. A freshly made apple pie sat on the counter, steam still rising from its crust. The scent of baked goods filled the kitchen.

  “Do we have to wait till tomorrow to dig into that pie, or is it available right now?” Decker asked, eyeing it hungrily as he pulled out a stool and sat at the island.

  “You know the answer to that. It’s for dessert tomorrow.”

  “Shame,” Decker said, disappointed.

  “I have this, though.” Nancy removed another pie from the oven and placed it on the island in front of him. “Maple pecan. It’s a recipe I’m trying out for the bakery.”

  “Looks delicious.” Decker picked up a knife and cut a large slice, then slid it onto a plate. The bakery had been Nancy’s idea. Ever since they sold the diner in Wolf Haven, she had been at a loose end. She wanted to make her mark now that they were finally settled in a new town. They had already found a location but wouldn’t be able to sign the lease until after the holidays. Once that happened, she would get straight to work, turning the currently empty storefront located in the Old Port district into a bakery and coffee shop. She also planned to bring her native Louisiana cuisine to the area with Bananas Foster, Beignets, and bread pudding on the menu.

  “What do you think?” Nancy hovered over Decker as he dug into the pie.

  “Delicious,” Decker said, between mouthfuls. “You’re going to be the most popular bakery in Portland. Maybe even Maine.”

  “Stop it.” Nancy was still holding the tea towel she’d used to remove the pie from the oven. She flicked it toward Decker playfully. “You might be setting the bar a little high.”

  “Just telling it as I see it.”

  “Well, that’s very nice of you, but we’ll let the customers be the judge.” She turned back to the oven. “Honestly, I’ll just be happy to get through Christmas.”

  “You love Christmas,” Decker said. “Always did. Even when we were first dating back before I left Wolf Haven you thought it was the best holiday of the year.”

  “It is. Because it doe
sn’t just last one day. We can look forward to it for weeks, listening to festive songs and watching cheesy movies about people falling in love and running inns in Vermont. There are presents to wrap and a tree to decorate. It’s happy. I like happy.”

  “What’s happy?” Taylor appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  Decker turned to look at her. “Your mother was telling me how much she loves Christmas.”

  “That again? It’s so sappy.” Taylor approached the pie like a predator zeroing in on prey. “I’ll take a slice of that.”

  “I thought you liked the holidays.” Nancy cut her a piece and handed it over.

  “I do. It’s just harder to get into it these days. There’s so much awful stuff in the world.”

  “Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.” Nancy glanced toward Decker. “Besides, John’s out there making sure the world’s a safer place for us all.”

  “Oh, yeah. The supersecret job on the creepy island chasing monsters.”

  “I never said my job was chasing monsters.”

  “You didn’t need to. It’s obvious. First you got fired as sheriff because no one would believe a werewolf tried to kill us all. Then you went to some middle of nowhere place in Alaska because the locals were convinced there was a monster stalking them. And as if that weren’t enough, you almost got my mother eaten by a giant alligator.”

  “I didn’t almost get Nancy eaten by an alligator,” Decker said. “She insisted on accompanying me and almost got herself eaten. It’s different.”

  “And how long after that was it before the shadowy government organization showed up recruiting you?”

  “John doesn’t chase monsters for a living,” Nancy said with a grin. “He catches them.”

  Decker glared at her. “You’re not helping.”

  “See. I knew I was right.” Taylor skewered a piece of pie with her fork and popped it in her mouth. She grinned at Decker. “I hope I’m safe showing up here for the holidays. I mean, with your track record, we are likely to have Krampus kicking the door in tomorrow morning.”

  “Krampus?” Nancy looked confused.

  “He’s kind of like a bad Santa Claus.”

  “I don’t think Krampus is real,” Decker said. “At least, if he is, Adam Hunt hasn’t asked me to go catch him yet.”

  “Give it time.” Nancy laughed. “Speaking of which, you did tell him not to disturb you over the Christmas holiday, right?”

  “Really can’t do that. If they need me, I need to be ready. It’s not like I have a regular nine-to-five job.”

  “Dammit, John.”

  “Don’t worry about it. They haven’t had an assignment for me in more than a month.” Decker helped himself to a second serving of pie. “Nothing will happen over the next few days.”

  “Not so fast, mister.” Nancy picked up his plate and put the slice of pie back in the dish.

  “Hey.” Decker protested, even though the look on her face told him it was pointless.

  “Nope. If you eat a second slice, you’ll spoil your appetite.” Nancy glowered at him.

  “Even I know not to go for a second piece.” Taylor ate the last mouthful of her own pie and put her empty plate in the sink. As she turned to go back upstairs, she looked back over her shoulder at Decker. “Boy, I’d hate to be you when Hunt calls and drags you away from Mom’s Christmas dinner.”

  “He won’t call.”

  “You sure about that?” Taylor said over her shoulder. Then, before Decker could reply, she mounted the stairs and disappeared back to her bedroom.

  5

  Early on Christmas morning, Decker rose and left Nancy sleeping. He slipped out of the house and strode through town. Walking had become a morning routine he enjoyed. The air was crisp and cold, and his breath came out as a fine mist that was snatched away by the gentle breeze. He walked down to the waterfront, where boats of all shapes and sizes bobbed against the piers. On any other morning, the docks would be a hive of activity, with lobster boats preparing to put out. Most people assumed there was a strict lobster season, but in reality boats harvested the tasty crustaceans all year. But not today. Because of the holiday, the waterfront was quiet and empty.

  Decker found a bench on a wharf jutting into Casco Bay. He sat down and enjoyed a moment of peaceful solitude. New England was nothing like his native Louisiana. The weather was more extreme. The landscape was more rugged. Local attitudes were different. Superstition permeated the South, much of it revolving around religion and the supernatural. He’d seen real estate listings in New Orleans that touted a lack of hauntings in the same way that one might say a building was free of termites.

  Not here. New Englanders were a different breed. They were practical and down to earth. Hardy. He liked their more prosaic outlook. But New England was not free of superstition and tall tales. Like Champ, Vermont’s answer to the Loch Ness monster, that was rumored to live in Lake Champlain. They just handled it differently. He wondered what a born and bred Mainer would think of CUSP’s island prison known as the Zoo, within which lurked supernatural monsters beyond their wildest imagination.

  Decker watched a lone seagull fly in lazy circles above the wharf, no doubt disappointed that the lobstermen were not there to provide an easy meal. He glanced at his watch and decided it was time to head back. He stood and left the waterfront, walking at a leisurely pace. Nancy was in the kitchen making coffee when he arrived home. Taylor wouldn’t surface for another hour.

  Later that day, they opened gifts around the tree. Decker had wrapped Nancy’s presents the previous night. Now he watched her open them with a smile on his face. He’d bought her a bunch of items, including a pair of thermal socks, because her feet got cold when she was in bed, and a flannel bathrobe. But the big present was an envelope containing the sales receipt for a floor-standing commercial spiral dough mixer for the new bakery and coffee shop. Decker knew it wasn’t the most romantic present, but it was the same model she used at the Wolf Haven diner. To most people the gift would be uninspiring, but to Nancy it could not have been any more perfect. For Taylor there was an iPhone, and an upgraded laptop because she’d spent the last six months complaining the one she already had was too slow.

  Later, during dinner, Taylor eyed the engagement ring on Nancy’s finger. “When are the pair of you thinking of getting married?”

  “Soon. We were thinking the spring,” Nancy said. To Decker, she said, “Have you spoken to Adam Hunt about taking time off for the wedding yet?”

  “I’ve mentioned it,” Decker said.

  “And what did he say?”

  “He wants an invitation.”

  “You know, that’s not a bad idea. We should invite him,” Nancy said. “If he’s at the wedding, he can’t interrupt it to order you off to the end of nowhere to catch Bigfoot.”

  “There are plenty of Bigfoot sightings in New England. Don’t need to go very far to find that.”

  “Except Bigfoot isn’t real,” Taylor said, then she faltered. “Or is it?”

  “Not as far as I know.” Decker grinned. “But then again, even if it was, I wouldn’t be at liberty to tell you. I work for a shadowy government organization, remember?”

  “Hilarious.” Taylor rolled her eyes.

  Not long after, when the meal was over, Nancy started clearing the plates away. She was on her way back into the dining room from the kitchen carrying the apple pie she’d baked the day before when Decker’s phone rang.

  She put the pie down, her eyes flicking to his cell, which was sitting on the table. “That had better not be who I think it is.”

  “It’s Adam Hunt.” Decker picked the phone up.

  Nancy put her hands on her hips. “I thought you said he wouldn’t call today.”

  “Guess I was wrong.” Decker stood up. He went onto the porch and pulled the front door closed behind him before answering.

  “Decker?” Hunt said.

  “Your timing is lousy, you know that.” Decker glanced back through the window. He coul
d see Nancy in the dining room, still standing with an irritated look on her face. “I’ll end up divorced before I even get married at this rate.”

  “Yeah. Sorry. If it’s any consolation, I’m not calling to ruin your Christmas. But I will need you on the island first thing tomorrow. Something has come up.”

  “What?”

  “An assignment that needs your brand of expertise. I won’t go into the details right now. It can wait until the morning.”

  “Should I prepare a travel bag?”

  “That would be a good idea,” Hunt said, “and pack for a tropical climate.”

  “Guess I’m leaving the country.”

  “I’ll brief you tomorrow. Go enjoy the holiday.”

  “Sure. I’ll be on the island first thing.” Decker hung up and stood looking out toward the waterfront a mile away. He could hear the faint lapping of waves out in the bay, and the remote clang of a bell buoy. Then, pocketing his phone, he turned and retreated inside, grateful for the warmth that greeted him within, and returned to the dinner table.

  Nancy was waiting, but instead of looking angry, there was a resigned expression on her face. “Hunt gave you an assignment.”

  “Yes.” Decker took his seat. “I’ll be leaving in the morning.”

  “Well, at least we have today, then.” Nancy sat down and looked at Decker, forcing a smile. “How about some pie?”

  6

  Decker arrived at CUSP’s island headquarters bright and early the next morning. He caught the 6 AM ferry from the mainland along with a couple dozen other employees, most of whom he didn’t recognize. When he entered the cavernous lobby, with his travel bag in hand, Adam Hunt was waiting.

  “John,” he said, making his way across the marble floor as if he were greeting an old friend rather than a subordinate he was about to send on a dangerous mission. And maybe he and Decker were friends, to a point. They had stood side-by-side in Clareconnell, Ireland, and faced down the legendary Grendel, and his near immortal mother, Astrid. They had almost died, too.