by T S Paul
The old man chuckled, “You are a riot. Willy Gill swears he saw mermaids one night while fishing, but he’s also been known to add a touch of whiskey to his oatmeal in the morning. Other than that, we’ve got nothing for you, Mr. Monster Hunter, sir. Head south, and you might get lucky.”
Nodding and wishing him good fishing I moved on. Mermaids weren’t what I was looking for, but I would make a note. One day it might be relevant to someone. Nature of the business. Hopping onto the new New Jersey Turnpike, I took the man’s advice. South led to many more beaches.
Sometimes when you’ve thought you’d seen it all, something else pops up. Point Pleasant had a half-sized train set up right on the beach. If the roadside signs were to be believed, it was the Beach Train. A bit further down in Seaside Heights they had a pier. Everything was ice covered, but I passed a carousel and a Ferris wheel.
At each town I came to, I drove or walked the pier, watching the surf. I wasn’t sure what I would do if I saw a monster, but I least I was looking for one.
“The only thing we see out here is ships and seagulls. Someone sold you a wagon of sawdust or something. Sea monsters don’t exist, don’t you know?” The speaker was the keeper of the lighthouse at Barnegat, New Jersey.
I followed his gaze out to sea. Lots of big waves crashing onto the beach but not much else. Winter storms were nasty in the Atlantic.
“There is a monster down in Wildwood, but I think he’s concrete.” The keeper started laughing at his own joke and waved at me as he returned to the lighthouse.
Shaking my head, I walked back to the truck. I’d seen the signs for the ‘monster’ of Wildwood. Some entrepreneur had created a twenty-foot replica of a gigantic ape. It was supposed to straddle the Fun Pier in Wildwood. I guess I could have my picture taken with it for Anastasia. Not much else to see so far.
Somewhere round about Beach Haven, I got my first clue.
A fire engine, three police cars, and an ambulance sat outside a crushed house on the beach. My yellow and black FBI van definitely caught their attention as I pulled up.
“What’s all this now? Who are you?” The local police officer asked as I got out of the van.
Flashing my credentials, I replied. “Special Agent Jack Dalton, FBI. Do you know what caused this?”
Looking toward the house, I could see more explicit details. It was once a stilted house that seemed to have been right at the edge of the water. A storm surge didn’t do this. Neither did wind. The house was almost split in half like something smashed it in two and rummaged through the remains.
The lead cop looked at my ID and shook his head. “Beats the hell out of us. Something sure wanted inside though.”
Firefighters in bunker gear were crawling through both sides of the house, but I couldn’t see any body bags or injuries. The pilings that once held the building up were broken in half and shattered into wood chips.
“Something indeed,” I muttered. The cop, who turned out to be the Police Chief of Beach Haven, shot me a sharp look but didn’t say anything. “Any witnesses?”
Chief James shook his head. “Not one that makes any sense. My boys found a couple of transients sleeping on the beach that claim it was Satan himself that did it.”
“Why Satan?” I asked.
The chief frowned. “They said it had a flat-faced head with horns and a bristly mustache. One of them told my officer that Satan roared and smote the house with his pointed tail.”
“Did they say how long the tail was and the direction that it went after destroying the house?” I asked.
Chief James stopped walking and grabbed my arm. “Who exactly are you, Mister Dalton?”
I looked down at his hand, and he removed it. Gazing into his eyes, I replied, “In 1879, a couple of fishermen had a run in with a large shape just off Sandy Hook in November. They said the shape roared at them and had a large head with horns and a mustache. They also said that it reared out of the water on a long neck. The creature attacked the boat with a very large, sharp-pointed tail. The men estimated the creature to be at least fifty feet long. At the time very few believed the men and accused them of drinking or telling tall tales. But we both know that fishing in winter on an open sea is not the time for drinking. Jump ahead fifty years. We’ve seen Demons, Weres, Vampires, and Trolls in our country, why not sea monsters?”
“You’re crazy. This was a tornado or something. These kinds of houses just fall down sometimes.” Chief James shook his head in disbelief.
“Hunting monsters is what I do, Chief. This is my first clue. Have you had other mysterious disappearances or simply people who are just gone of late?” I asked.
The man started to say something but then pulled back. Giving me the eye, he slowly nodded his head. “One. Hattie Peterson.”
At my questioning look, he expanded.
“She's a local beachcomber. Been doing it for longer than I’ve been alive. Earns a pretty good living at it as well. She has a shack out on the very edge of the township limits. Every day she can be seen walking up and down the beaches. Hattie’s almost a fixture around here,” James explained.
“When did you notice her gone?” I asked.
“Couple three days ago or so. Hattie called me. Said she had something I just needed to see. I didn’t have time, so I checked up on her the next day. Her shack was broken into, and there was no sign of her anywhere. Suspicion isn’t proof of anything. Hattie disappears every now and then on her selling trips. This might just be one of those.”
I stared out at the destroyed house again. “Did Hattie sell stuff to them?”
The chief nodded, “Yes. The Todds owned a curio shop in town. Hattie dragged all sorts of junk to them. She was the best at finding unusual items.”
“We need to figure out what Hattie was selling then and if there is more of it. It looks to me as if whatever that item might be, it is dangerous to own. Really dangerous,” I motioned towards the destruction.
“I’ll start asking around. Hattie gave Todd first crack at things but kept a small list of interested buyers as well. Are you staying in town?” James asked me.
Pursing my lips, I replied, “That I am. Any good campgrounds around here.” I looked at the ocean again. “No seaside ones please.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
The place the Chief recommended was actually pretty nice. It may not have been seaside, but it was called the Seaside Stop. There were shaded slabs with fire rings already installed. Not a lot of business in winter around here so I had almost the whole place to myself.
Morning brought the sun and a host of questions. Sleep is hard with the wind whistling through the van. I stayed up half the night thinking and questioning.
Who else might Hattie have contact with and what hold may they have over her?
What is the item that she found?
If it’s a sea monster, why is it attacking dry land?
If it’s not a monster, what is it? A Demon? Or some sort of creepy-crawly nobody’s seen before?
My final question was this. Where could I get both hot coffee and a meal? The inside of me was about to freeze to the outside of me, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
Melanie’s Diner was the solution to my problem. Well, that and three cups of coffee. I sat at the counter watching the locals. Beach Haven wasn’t a small town. I would call it a medium to a large one and according to the campground manager, a small city during tourist season. But this was the height of winter, and nobody was moving about.
“Where're all the people?” I asked.
“Gone. Those that can go south for the winter do. The rest just hunker down and tough out the snow and ice. This week is actually much nicer than usual.” The waitress smiled at me and continued to wipe the counter down.
The questions I asked myself earlier were still bouncing around in my head. What had Hattie found? Is it just a big coincidence or was I on a wild monster hunt?
A gust of icy cold air woke me up and forced me to turn around. Chief of Police
James stood in the doorway, a grim expression on his face. “Agent Dalton, we found something.”
Hattie Peterson’s place was a lonely house on the very edge of the town being sucked down into the sand dunes. What was left of it that is. Like the Todd house, Hattie’s was ripped to pieces.
“I sent a patrol out here early this morning after the conversation we had yesterday. As soon as they saw this the officers called me,” James explained.
The roof was gone. A gigantic hole took the place of where I assumed the door used to be. “Any evidence of… anything?”
The Chief shook his head. “I’m not even sure what we should be looking for here. She had so much junk in there that even if we found something, we couldn’t know for sure what it was. The only thing my officers can’t explain is that over there.”
I turned my head to look where the chief of police was pointing. All of the beachfront forward of the house was torn up. It was like several bulldozers, or other earthmovers were loose on it. “Interesting.”
“We canvassed the neighbors, what little there are out here. The closest one heard what they thought sounded like the roar of a wild animal. The dunes and grasses around here shield the noise pretty well. One of the advantages of living out here. In the off chance, it was a crazy man on a piece of construction equipment we’re checking the surrounding roads and work sites. I don’t know what to think, but this might support your sea monster theory. Why did you come here anyway?” Chief James asked me.
Some things are better left unsaid, and I did sign the Secrets Act, but a brief explanation was called for here. “I work for the FBI, but I run the Magical Division. We were created to hunt down rogue paranormal elements and supernatural threats to our country. This is one such threat. My boss in Washington sent me here after there were sightings up and down the coast.”
“Sightings by whom?” Chief James asked.
I smiled and replied. “I asked my boss the same thing. She told me the Coast Guard and the Navy were the ones doing the reporting. And before you say it, I’m not sure why they aren’t hunting this thing instead of me and my crossbow.”
The Chief held up his hands, “Wasn’t going to say it.”
“Uh, huh. So, we have to ask ourselves this. Why does a sea monster come ashore in the first place and why here? There has to be plenty of food out in the ocean even if it’s stormy. What makes a creature do something like this? All the historical sightings were out there,” I pointed out toward the ocean. “Not here.”
We stood together puzzling it over for a short while as his men wrapped up their investigation.
“Let’s get out of this wind and think about it for a bit. I know just the place.” The Chief slapped me on my back and pointed toward our cars and town.
It turned out that Melanie’s Diner was the unofficial police sub-station for the town. Everyone that was anyone came to the diner and just hung out. Including the movers and shakers in town.
“Assuming this thing is an animal and NOT a Demon, what drives it?” Chief James asked.
Johnny Watson, the duly elected Mayor and the man who owned half the tourist attractions in town, grunted as he leaned forward. “Animals only care about food.”
I shook my head no, “Not quite, sir. They look for food, shelter, and mates. Like humans, sex … I mean conjugal relations is a priority.”
“You think this thing is looking for another one, a mate?” The mayor looked at me in surprise.
“No. I think it’s looking for babies or eggs. If you were Hattie Peterson and you found an egg or a strange creature what would you do with it?” I asked the small group at the table.
Chief James nodded, “Hattie survived by the sea. You all know she’d talk about eating seabird or making seaweed soup. She followed the older ways. If she found a critter she didn’t recognize, she might try to sell it. Or eat it.”
“If she’d eaten whatever it was, only her house would have been destroyed. I think she sold or gave it to Todd. It’s why both houses were targeted. Somehow this creature tracked Hattie down,” I theorized. “Maybe it can sense its young. Like how some animals can tell their babies from others in a large group. I’m just spitballing here though.”
“You might be on the right track, Agent. My cows out at my dairy farm are able to do that. So Hattie found a baby or an egg then?” George McCoy stated.
Chief James shook his head. “More than one George. Why destroy the Todd’s house then? Maybe Hattie found a nest or something? Do these creatures nest on land?”
I reached up and rubbed the stubble on my chin. Time to break out the razor. “If they nested on land we, meaning the FBI, would’ve investigated or discovered them before now. If we had strange creatures other than tourists nesting in New Jersey, it would have made the papers.”
All the men at the table chuckled at my small joke. For as much as out-of-towners contributed to the local community coffers, they caused a headache for locals. Too much traffic or sheer simple-mindedness.
Mayor Watson half raised his hand. “Are we sure this thing is a sea monster? It could just be an oversized oarfish or a whale.”
Several of the local businessmen turned toward him and frowned. “Johnny, whales don’t come on shore on purpose.”
The mayor held up his hands in defense. “I’m just speculating like the rest of you. This could hurt the town.”
“It could help the town too. I can see the headlines now. Monster found in town. We’d be a tourist attraction like Lake Hopatcong with its diving tower or Wildwood’s gorilla. What we do with it is up to us,” Travis Hickey mused. He owned the largest hotel in town.
We had dead people, and they were trying to profit off it. It boggled my mind. “Before you start counting your money we need to find this creature first. Remember it’s killed at least three people so far.”
“Could it be an oarfish?” Police Chief James asked.
Henry Sloan shook his head negatively. “We get a lot of fishermen in the store, and I’ve only heard of one being caught. Around here they’re pretty rare. The biggest one I’ve heard of was out in California, and that’s a long way from here. This thing might have been stirred up by that fishing operation north of us.”
A few miles offshore was a commercial fishing operation. I’d considered that angle already. They so far hadn’t reported any issues. But, they weren’t locals so it would be easier for these people to suspect them.
“We’re getting off-track here gentlemen. Other than the Todds, who might Hattie have shown something like this too?” I asked.
“Did you look in her car?” George McCoy asked.
Chief James’s eyes widened. “That old thing actually runs?”
George chuckled, “And here you are the police chief. Like clockwork, Hattie comes by my place once a month for ten gallons of milk and as much manure as she can shovel.”
“Milk? Why would she want milk?” Mayor Watson asked.
“You know I asked her that once. She didn’t have electricity out at her place, and I wondered what she was doing,” McCoy stated.
Chief James waved his hands, “And?”
“Cheese. She made cheese wheels and sold them to tourists. Or at least that’s the story she told me. Did she own any other properties around here? She had to store it somewhere.” The dairy farmer answered.
“Mayor?” I asked.
Johnny Watson looked at me. “What? How should I know where? Hattie was like a hundred years old.”
“More like sixty. Can’t you find out?” Chief James asked him.
The mayor cocked his head to one side. “Stella’s on vacation right now, but her assistant is still around.” Watson stood up from the table. Looking around, he caught the eye of the man standing at the lunch counter. “Can I borrow the phone for a local call, Mel?”
Melvin Hook, the owner of the diner, nodded and pointed toward the register. Early on, Melvin discovered that people preferred to eat at Melanie’s more than Melvin’s.
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nbsp; Turning to watch the mayor, I let my gaze linger on the other patrons in the diner. A few were paying attention to what the informal town council was discussing, but most were just eating. How many more of these people were going to end up as monster chow was what I kept asking myself. We needed to either kill this thing or drive it back into the sea.
After a few minutes, Mayor Watson stepped back over to the table. “According to Stella’s niece Emma, Hattie Peterson owns five pieces of property in the county.”
“Five?” Chief James remarked.
“She owns the entire point her house sits on including the road. Henry, this one will surprise you. Hattie was your landlord,” the mayor stated.
The bait shop owner started. “No, I pay rent to old man Howard. He’s the one that rented me the spot along with access to the fishing pier. Emma got it wrong.”
“Nope. She owns Howard’s house too. Along with that entire row of rentals and the marina. I’ve been trying to negotiate with Howard for years over access, and it was Hattie’s all along. It’s no wonder he was ignoring my offers. I wonder why she didn’t like me?” The Mayor asked.
Chief James counted off on his fingers. “The Marina, Howard’s place, and the other house next to him, her place, and what? We’re missing two.”
“Roadside To Go is hers as well.” The mayor explained to the group.
Half the men at the table rolled their eyes and nodded.
The roadside market was one of the few eyesores in town. Its location near the highway was the first thing potential tourists saw when they entered the town. It sold souvenirs, fruit, and tacky tourist junk.
“Where’s the last place?” James asked.
The Mayor sighed. “Tucker Island. She owns the whole thing.”
“Is Tucker even accessible to cars? It was mostly underwater just a couple of years ago,” George McCoy asked.
“Hurricane Carol in fifty-four exposed it again. The beaches are mostly gravel, but the lighthouse ruins are still there. My guys are supposed to patrol out that way once a week or so. Let me ask.” The Police Chief stood up from the table and walked towards the doorway.
I perked up at the mention of ruins. “Lighthouse?”