Last Exit in New Jersey

by C. E. Grundler

  Hazel dropped the electric cord in disgust. “Go to hell.” Gary scrambled clear as Hammon reached down, picked up the end and brushed the bare wires against his palm.

  “You did! I saw it in your eyes when you hit me and when you stuffed me in my trunk! You were hurt. You wouldn’t be hurt if you didn’t like me. Like now…you’re only upset because you can’t decide if you want to hit me or let me kiss you.”

  “You really believe that?” she snapped, her voice faltering.

  He nodded brightly, hair falling in his eyes. He pushed it back, exposing his scarred temple. “More than ever.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “One way to be sure.” He slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her close, gently kissing her. Her lips parted, initially in protest, but her words were smothered. She felt his breathing, his pulse, and she felt herself kiss him even as she pressed her knife to his throat. He paused as she increased the pressure, laughed for a moment, then his kiss turned serious: hard, deep, and passionate, sending disturbing shivers of pleasure through her. She knew she shouldn’t have been responding the way she was; she knew she could have stopped him, but instead she melted against him.

  “So I’m right,” he said, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. “As usual.”

  Gary coughed. “Uhmm, Zap. You do know she’s got a knife to your throat…”

  “You bet I do.” Hammon grinned. “Talk about a turn-on.”

  Hazel stepped away in frustration; Hammon hooked his fingers in the wader straps, pulling her right back. “I like the outfit: kinky. Good thing you’re wearing these. It might be dangerous, you getting…” He paused, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Wet.” He kissed her again, even more powerfully. “Or is it already too late?”

  Behind her Micah cleared his throat and cracked his knuckles the way her father did whenever he was reaching his limit. Hazel’s mind went blank; she was still back on that kiss; she could hear her pulse rushing in her ears, and she couldn’t decide how she felt or why. But she had to stay focused. She staggered slightly as the deck swayed beneath her.

  “Otto, why are you following us? It’s more than just the boat, isn’t it?”

  Pain washed across his face. He blinked, staring at her in confusion. Color rose in his cheeks. “What…no!” He coughed and swallowed. “Uh…no, I mean, yeah.” He rubbed his forehead, taking several deep breaths. “There’s way more to it than you realize, and Stevenson isn’t dead. Pure evil doesn’t die that easy. But I didn’t shoot him, and neither did the guy behind the flatbed. There was someone else.”

  “What guy behind the flatbed?” Micah said. “And who else?”

  “I don’t know; I didn’t see them, just the one guy. Big. Mean looking. He had…” Hammon turned to the emptiness. “What’s the word?” He held his arms out dramatically. “He had a sea monster…”

  Gary groaned and Micah shook his head.

  “I’m serious!” Hammon insisted, his voice breaking.

  “And we’re leaving.” Micah reached across and guided Hazel to the dock. He released Temperance’s bow line. “Hon, get Mardi started.”

  She stood, hesitant, wanting to say something, anything, but unable to. Hammon stumbled after her, but Micah stepped between them.

  “Back off, Hammon.” Micah unhitched the stern line and gave Temperance a firm shove away from the dock. A breeze caught the disabled boat, and it drifted toward the channel.

  Hazel boarded Mardi, still somewhat dazed. She turned the battery switch and started the engine as Micah brought in all the lines. Hazel tweaked the throttle as they motored past Temperance, keeping them parallel to the disabled skiff.

  “You might want to drop anchor,” Micah suggested while Gary studied Mardi in disbelief and Hammon gazed at Hazel. “I’m sure someone’ll tow you back in.”

  Hazel pushed the throttle forward and they left Temperance bobbing in their wake.

  “Another low-speed getaway,” Micah said. “I’m telling you, if this was a movie, it’d be real boring.” Then he chuckled. “You see Gary’s face? You had him scared shitless, at least till your boyfriend got there.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Could’ve fooled me. Sucks that he’s the bad guy. You make such a cute couple. Strange, the way he looks at you. Somewhere between the purest, most innocent love and the darkest obsession.”

  Hazel nibbled on the edge of her nail. “I should have…” Her voice trailed off. She wasn’t sure what she should have done. “Someone else was there last night besides Hammon?”

  “Other than the guy with the sea monster?” Micah sighed. “Bat-shit crazy, that’s what he is. What I don’t get is how he keeps showing up. We’ve been through every inch of this boat. If something’s sending a signal, it’s hiding real good. Not that it matters anymore. They’ve seen her. They know our speed. She was invisible so long as they were looking for something else. We might as well paint her florescent orange.” Micah put his arm around her shoulder. “Sorry, kiddo. I know you like this thing, but it’s time we take some of Hammon’s cash and get something white, plastic, and anonymous.”

  One hour later they docked in Point Pleasant. Hazel received a call from Chris, who reported that her father came through surgery smoothly, with a grocery list of pins, screws, and bolts securing bones in place. Micah placed the next call to Joe and swore he was doing a fine job of keeping Hazel clear of all unacceptable activities; she mouthed “liar” in the background. He glared at her and dialed Atkins. Listening intently, he scribbled down “NJ, KLE-865” then hung up, working out the equation.

  Hazel looked at the final number. “One seventy-two. The last exit in New Jersey.”

  “What did I say about you getting morose? Cheer up.” Micah grinned. “We need a car again, and I know just the one I want.”

  I CAN’T DO IT

  Hammon stared at the wildflowers in his hand, and lunch rose in his throat. Flowers. Seriously. Who was he kidding? He shouldn’t have even been there. He was putting Hazel in danger.

  “No, you’re protecting her.”

  “From you, I mean.” He was still furious with Annabel’s little stunt back in Belmar.

  “You were about to pass out; someone had to do something. And besides, she didn’t seem to mind.” Annabel grinned. “Or is that what’s upsetting you, dear?”

  “This is so wrong. I’ll just talk to her. I’ll explain. I’ll make her understand.”

  “Otto, your explaining skills are right up there with her understanding skills. There’s no way she’s abandoning Micah to run away with a schizophrenic stalker. Like it or not, you know what you have to do.”

  No. He didn’t want to think about it.

  “It was your idea in the first place. Either you do it or I will.”

  That was what scared him.

  “You said it yourself. It’s for her own good. This just proves it. You don’t want someone else hurting her.”

  Annabel was right and he knew it. Hammon climbed out of the car, fighting to appear calm as he hobbled toward Revenge, docked in a small Point Pleasant marina. Hazel looked relieved but nervous as she rushed over to him.

  “You’re here.” She bit her lip and backed against the thick overgrowth bordering the lot. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come, after everything that’s happened.”

  “I promised.” He was going to be sick. Taking a deep breath, he offered her the flowers, which she accepted with a hesitant smile. “Micah actually left you alone?”

  She nodded apprehensively. “We needed a car, and he went to steal one. He told me not to call you, but I had to.”

  Hammon relaxed the slightest bit. He’d been dreading the idea of dealing with Micah first. This was much better.

  “Just like the night you met,” Annabel said. “Micah’s a nice kid and he means well, but his carelessness puts her at risk.”

  Hazel walked along the yard’s edge, past several abandoned boats.

  “But why did you call me?”
he asked.

  “I wanted to see you.” She searched his eyes. “I had to know, why are you following me?”

  He’d planned out everything he wanted to tell her, but as she watched him, waiting expectantly, his mind went blank. “You took Revenge,” he mumbled, knowing that was the wrong answer even as the words left his mouth. “I was looking for my boat.”

  She held out her hand, offering the keys for Revenge. “If that’s all you want, you can have her back.”

  His hand closed around hers. “You think it’s that simple. You return the boat and this just ends?”

  “What, then? Why did you have that money and all? What is this really about?”

  She’d never understand. “You’re too trusting, coming here alone. What if I wanted to hurt you?”

  “Do you?” Hazel asked, her innocence ripping through his heart like a stake. Annabel was right. She was too vulnerable. He knew what he had to do, much as he hated the idea.

  “You’re stalling. Just do it,” Annabel ordered. “Now.”

  Everything in the dark turmoil of her eyes and the full flush of her lips begged him to kiss her. She started to speak again, and he pulled her close, kissing her. At first she resisted, then she began to soften, to melt against him, hesitantly returning his kiss as he eased the pistol from beneath his shirt.

  Annabel said, “Pull the trigger and it’ll be over. You have to. It’s for the best.”

  He felt sick as he raised the gun behind her and broke the kiss, gasping for air. His hand was shaking.

  “I’m sorry,” Hazel whispered.

  That confused him. He was the one about to do something unimaginably horrible…why was she apologizing? For a moment he almost asked, but decided he didn’t want to know. “So am I.” His throat tightened. “Please, angel, forgive me.”

  He squeezed the trigger. There was an abrupt, muffled sound, Hazel’s eyes widened, and she gave a small cry, stiffening. She struggled, weakening, until she slumped against him. He rocked her gently as she trembled and shuddered, and he whispered soothing sounds, tenderly stroking her hair. She looked up, wide-eyed, and a tear ran down her cheek.

  “Why?” she said, just a whisper.

  “I told you. You’re mine. Forever.” He kissed her again, the gentlest kiss, tasting her warmth as she faded. He lowered her to the ground, tracing his fingers along her cheek, wishing it hadn’t come to this, when the world exploded in a flash of blinding pain.

  TIME, DATE, POSITION UNKNOWN

  Hazel opened her eyes to find herself curled in the passenger seat, her head resting on the center console, cushioned by Hammon’s coat. She looked around the Fairmont in confusion. At the wheel, Hammon glanced over, smiling grimly. She struggled to sit up, staring out at the narrow road unwinding in the headlights as foggy darkness closed in around them.

  “What happened?” she asked, her voice small.

  “You fainted.”

  “No…I…it was…” Hazel murmured, straining to remember. “Something else…” Something unclear. Something terrible.

  Hammon slowed the car, turning off the road and between massive iron gates, weaving beneath overgrown trees and down a low hill. Through the gloom they passed a mausoleum. Ahead, the ghostly shape of an angel stood, wings broken, head bowed in frozen grief. Hazel knew this place well, but why had Hammon taken her there?

  He shut the headlights and engine, then turned to her.

  “This should be far enough.”

  “For what?”

  He grinned crookedly, a single fang catching the faint dashboard light, and Hazel shivered, turning away. Darkness surrounded them in every direction. She could hide in the darkness. She tugged at the door handle. It wouldn’t release.

  “You think you can keep running from me?” His eyes gleamed as he moved closer. “I told you I’d find you.” His fingers touched her cheek. “I’ll keep you safe, so no one can ever hurt you,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers. “Ever.”

  His mouth caressed hers, his teeth grazing her lip. Hazel gasped, trying to push him back. He kissed her slowly, with a building intensity that threatened to pull her under. She eased her knife from her pocket, opening the blade as his kiss sent heat racing through her and his hand slid up beneath her shirt, pressing warm against her belly.

  “I told you, I’ll follow you forever.” He gazed at her, his wide, colorless eyes filled with childlike adoration, his fangs glistening. Her grip tightened around the knife. His throat was bare and exposed. It would be easy to drive the blade deep into his white flesh. She knew exactly where and how to make it fatal; he wouldn’t even be able to scream. She squeezed her eyes shut as his lips brushed her damp eyelashes.

  “You can fight or you can surrender.” He eased her down across the seat. “It doesn’t matter. Either way, you’re mine, forever.”

  She tried to speak, but words died in her throat. She stared up, blinking back tears. His eyes burned into hers and she turned away, staring across at the soft glow of the dashboard as he moved over her. Just one slash, she told herself. So simple. Just do it. Just kill him.

  “Are you okay?”

  She couldn’t. She felt paralyzed, drowning, helpless.

  “Hon, you okay? Talk to me.”

  This wasn’t happening. Her head spun, her blood burned, and she moaned in desperation.

  “That’s enough,” she heard Micah say. “You’re seriously freaking me out now.”

  She blinked, staring around the Fairmont. Micah was at the wheel, and she was huddled in the passenger seat. He took the car out of gear and rolled onto the Parkway shoulder. Hazel struggled to sit up, blinking in bewilderment. It was just the two of them. A disorienting blur of headlights flashed by in the darkness. “What happened?”

  “You don’t remember our plan to ambush Hammon? Well, it worked. And don’t feel guilty; I know you were kissing him to stop me from whacking him, but trust me, he needed whacking.”

  It was coming back in fragments. Micah nodded.

  “You were doing a first-class job of distracting him. I figured I’d give you a minute, let you have your fun; you seemed to be getting into it. Then I hear this weird little pop noise, and I’m wondering what it was, then I see you struggling, and you slump in his arms. He’s holding this.” He passed her a pistol. “I swear my heart stopped. I knocked him out, then pulled that,” he pointed to a dart with a red tail, stuck like a pushpin in the dashboard, “out of your backside. If I wasn’t so pissed, I’d laugh. Your boyfriend shot you in the ass with a tranquilizer dart.”

  Hazel stared at the gun and felt sick.

  “This is the same gun Pierce shot me with when Kindling sank. The gun Stevenson was going to use…”

  She rushed to roll down the window as a wave of nausea threatened to overtake the dizziness, gulping the damp night air and letting the breeze blow the cold sweat on her face dry. It wasn’t hard to figure where Hammon got the gun.

  Micah looked grim as he wove through slower-moving traffic. “When will people learn the hammer lane isn’t meant for old Saturns, minivans, and people on cell phones?” He turned to Hazel. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. A little sore, a lot wiser, but okay.”

  Micah’s grip on the wheel was tighter than driving conditions warranted. “That could have been a bullet instead of a dart. I never should’ve assumed Hammon was harmless. I put you in danger just so we could drive something with horsepower and a good stereo.”

  “It was my idea too, and we were both wrong.” She’d wanted to see Hammon again, to talk to him, to see him smile and hear him say it was all some innocent, bizarre misunderstanding. “I couldn’t accept he’s really working for Stevenson.” She should have known better. She turned and looked backwards. “He’s in the trunk?”

  That was the plan, to grab Hammon along with his car, to keep him hostage and question him at their leisure.

  “Sorry, hon. I was more worried about you. I left your boyfriend in the bushes.”

  Hazel nodded. C
onsidering the circumstances, she would have done the same. “He’s not much use, anyway. Unless we’re looking for sea monsters, that is.”

  “Uh, yeah, about that. I think I know what he was trying to tell us, and you’re not going to like it.”

  Reluctantly he handed her a piece of paper covered in Hammon’s scribbled handwriting. Hazel read:

  Hazel & Mika took Revenge Why? Did they beat up stvnsn? Likely. Why were they there? Looking for tractor-trailer? Maybe—Why does Stevenson have Moran truck? Stvnsn met scary guy by truck in littlfery / Who was that?? Stvnsn signaled guy (shaved head, squid/tentacle seamonster tattoo) was tattoo guy there to shoot whitetrash guy who tazered me? Did tattoo guy shoot Hazel’s father? Who shot Stevenson?

  Hazel stared at the note. “Joe?”

  “It sure looks that way.”

  “Joe’s working with Stevenson?” She read it over again, stunned. “Joe? Why?”

  “God only knows. Money, I guess.”

  “You think Joe shot Dad?” Her trust in Joe had always been absolute. He was family.

  Micah rubbed his face. “I don’t know what to think anymore. There’s a whole lot we don’t know about Joe, other than that he’d still be in prison if not for some bullshit technicality.”

  Hazel scanned the traffic stretching behind them then shifted around anxiously. “You think Dad’s safe? Should we call the hospital and tell them?”

  “So long as your dad’s in the ICU, Joe can’t get anywhere near him. Your dad’s as safe as he’s going to be, probably safer than us. And maybe it’s not what it looks like. I mean, we’re talking about Hammon.”

  “But if he saw Joe meet with Stevenson…”

  “I don’t know. All I know is we’ve got seven darts, and I want some answers.” Micah downshifted and shot past a BMW with Florida plates, the oblivious driver focused on his cell phone. “And I don’t get Hammon. I mean, what’s the deal with him? It’s almost like the poor bastard was trying to warn us. But then, why’d he shoot you? I can’t figure where that guy fits.”