by Hunter Shea
“We have to get to the car!” she shouted.
“It’s too far. We need shelter.”
He pointed at a squat brick structure. It looked to be a public bathroom. They weren’t the first to think of it. A swarm of people struggled to push their way inside.
Tears stung her eyes as she ran.
Noah pulled her along.
“Almost there, baby,” he said. He sounded calm but she saw the terror in his eyes.
They should have dropped the whole Jersey Devil tour idea the day they found their gear strung along the top of the pine tree. She thought she was scared then. It didn’t hold a candle to the raw panic that gripped her heart right now.
The closer they got to the restroom, the more she realized it was a dead end. More and more people were outside the doors, pushing to no avail.
No room at the inn, she thought, feeling like her mind was going to shatter into tiny, irretrievable bits.
“We can’t,” she said, daring to look back, seeing a creature sweep inches from their backs.
“I’ll get you inside,” Noah said.
And then his grip was gone. Joanne stumbled over him as his feet slipped on one of their fliers, sending him into an erratic tumble.
“Noah!”
Before he could even get to his knees, a monster pounced on Noah. It tore the flesh from his face. Noah’s scream turned Joanne’s muscles to jelly. She collapsed next to him.
The monster turned to her, part of Noah’s cheek slipping from its mouth.
“Please, please, leave him alone,” she said, sobbing.
Its arm shot forward, sharp talons burrowing into her neck. Holding her quivering body in place, she watched helplessly as it continued to feed on Noah. Each breath was harder to take than the previous one. Her vision faded, but not before she saw it split her boyfriend’s stomach open, feasting on his organs. She knew it would do the same to her, and was grateful she’d be dead before it could.
Chapter Forty-six
Sam Willet was stunned when the first bullet tore off a chunk of the Jersey Devil’s calf. Ben was right, it was getting slower. It whirled around to face him, a trio of torn bodies revealed underneath it.
“Surprise.”
The next shot went into the stage as the creature leapt skyward. He flinched when gunfire erupted beside him. Daryl fired shot after shot at the Devil as it made serpentine maneuvers above them.
“I told you I’d take care of it alone,” Sam said.
“You didn’t think I’d let an old man do all the heavy lifting, did you?”
He wouldn’t say it, but he was grateful. During the run across the fairground, Sam’s heart felt like it was being tightly compressed, making it harder to pump much-needed blood to his legs and arms.
“Crap, there are more coming,” Daryl shouted. Looking past the stage, Sam saw a fresh stampede of people driven to the killing field by a new wave of Devils.
“Come face me, you son of a bitch!” Sam shouted at the Jersey Devil. If it could speak, it should be able to understand him. “Are you afraid of an old man?”
Daryl’s rifle clicked empty. “Dammit. I’m out.”
“Then stay close to me.”
He watched as the Jersey Devil eyed its returning children, howling something that could be best equated with a cry of victory. It then turned to face them.
Sam didn’t bother raising his gun. Now that it was aware of his presence, it would evade any shot he took.
Instead, he let it fall to the ground.
“Boompa, no!” Daryl said.
His grandson bent to pick up the rifle. Just as he did, the Devil lasered in on him, knocking them both down, spinning ass over heels.
The Jersey Devil stood over Daryl, a cloven hoof on each side of his chest. Daryl may have been bigger but he was hurt. The creature snapped at his throat. Daryl was quick enough to get his forearm up in time. A section of meat was torn away, revealing bone. Daryl screamed. Sam, his chest feeling as though someone had stabbed him with a sword, rose unsteadily to his feet. The Devil once again went for Daryl’s neck. He moved out of the way, and it snatched his Mets cap instead, tearing it to shreds.
Daryl reached up and grabbed it by the throat, his big hands wrapping all the way around it.
There was fire in his eyes, the whites the same color as the blood seeping from his arm.
“Hold it there!” Sam yelled, staggering to them.
He only had one chance left. If he missed, he knew he wouldn’t be around to try again, and neither would Daryl.
Reaching into his pocket, he lurched at the Devil.
* * *
Fucking guns were useless!
Ben knew there was no point anymore. Whatever these things were, they had a preternatural ability to evade them. They’d need a damn army in order to take them down that way.
He, April and Norm stayed close together.
“We have to lure one in,” he said.
“Are you c-crazy?” Norm said.
Ben extracted a thick knife from the holder on his belt. “Put your guns down, let them think they’ve got us.”
“No way,” April said, just missing one that was feasting on a body with an open chest cavity.
“Just do what I say for once!”
She shot him daggers, but even she wilted under his gaze. Slowly, she lowered her rifle.
And sure enough, being the few people still standing, they were now an open target.
One of the Devils came screeching straight at them.
“Get down!” Ben shouted.
April and Norm dropped to their knees.
He sprang at the flying Devil, catching it by the throat. He was lifted off the ground, sailing toward the beach.
The creature had a hard time keeping its balance with him around its neck. Before it could go any higher, he buried the knife to the hilt in its back. Gouts of thick blood and a hellish aroma poured from the jagged wound.
The creature squawked, plummeting to the ground. Ben rolled with it, the sound of his left wrist snapping lost in the dying squeals of the beast.
He stepped away from the Devil, his hand dangling loosely at his side.
“Looks like I won’t be doing that again,” he said, staring at his wrist, the bone pressing hard against his skin.
Another Devil, seeing its sibling dead, came for him. It was reckless in its anger. Ben locked his knees, waiting for the inevitable, knife held steady at his hip.
A second before impact, a shot rang out and it tumbled away from him.
Ben looked across the field and saw Norm tipping his cap.
“Keep their f-focus on you!” Norm shouted. “I’ll do the rest!”
It was a good plan. Only six more to go. He hoped Norm could keep up his Wild Bill precision.
Then he realized April was nowhere to be seen. Where the hell had she gone? There was no time to think. A couple of teens in bikinis ran past him. Another Devil paused in midair, gazing at the two dead creatures. Ben sneered at it, waving his knife in the air. “Next!”
* * *
When April saw Boompa and Daryl struggling with the Jersey Devil, she took off after them. Ben was right, the best way to kill them was up close. And her brother and grandfather couldn’t be any closer.
She made it halfway to them before she was spirited away, her rifle fumbling from her grasp. One of the creatures had grabbed her by the bullet wound in her arm. Everything went fuzzy in an instant. She spewed a string of curses, but her body was too shocked and weak to fight back.
In moments, she was soaring over Daryl, Boompa and the Jersey Devil. Daryl looked like he was trying to choke the beast out. Boompa was clutching his chest, moving toward them on unsteady legs.
She saw the red sand of the beach, bodies lying in mangled heaps.
In an instant, everything changed.
The roar of gunfire swallowed up the sounds of the shrieking Devils and screaming survivors. She watched as the flying creatures were torn to ribbo
ns, pinwheeling in the air before colliding with the hard earth.
April felt the Devil’s body vibrate. The ground was coming up fast. Closing her eyes, she braced for impact.
Smacking sideways into something hard yet forgiving, she tumbled free, lying on her stomach. Looking down, she saw Ben’s face, his eyes glazed, one hand over her back.
Somehow, he’d caught her just before she hit the ground. His head must have hit pretty hard, because his eyes were swimming in jittery circles.
When he mumbled, “Jesus, you weigh as much as Daryl,” tears sprang to her eyes.
Norm came to them at a crouch. His rifle was gone. But the heavy gunfire continued.
“Are you both all right?” he asked.
“No,” April said, trying to help Ben sit up. “Who’s doing all the shooting?”
For the first time that day, Norm smiled. “They had their backup, we have ours.” He pointed to the parking lot. “Looks like your mother was able to convince every cop in the state to get here and save our asses.”
Gunfire crackled like the crescendo of a fireworks display. There must have been dozens of people shooting at the creatures. Even they couldn’t evade that much firepower.
April saw her mother shielded behind a pair of cops in riot gear with Plexiglas shields.
“Mom!”
* * *
The Jersey Devil fought like a bucking bronco to get free of Daryl’s grip. If it weren’t for the damage to its wing and leg and groin, Sam was sure it would have been long gone by now.
Drawing in a breath made his ribs felt like they were cracking and set his lungs on fire.
Sam jumped the last couple of feet, landing on its back. It beat at him with its wings, but he held on, locking an arm around its throat.
One of its horns nicked Sam’s temple, drawing blood. This close, the stench of the creature was overpowering. It reeked of death, both fresh and decayed.
“Daryl, I need you to let go!”
“No! I’ve got him.”
The Jersey Devil thrashed, making wounded horse sounds that would weaken any man’s resolve.
With his free hand, Sam showed his grandson what he had in store.
“Now let go and run like hell!”
Daryl reluctantly released the Devil’s neck, rolling out from under it as it tried to stomp him to death. Sam bore his weight down as hard as he could. When Daryl was out of range, Sam reached up toward the creature’s mouth, its teeth snagging on his hand.
The Jersey Devil snapped its head round, staring into Sam’s eyes. He saw hatred in its purest essence, a hatred he was sure he was giving right back.
“You . . . dare . . . to hurt me,” it said. “You will . . . all die.”
Sam was past being surprised or afraid.
“This is what you get when you fuck with my family!”
Sam flicked the pin free on the grenade, ramming it down the Devil’s throat. He used both of his hands to squeeze its mouth shut, preventing it from spitting the bomb out.
The look in the Devil’s eyes morphed from pure animus to raw fear.
Just a few seconds, he thought, willing his heart to pump just little bit longer.
He pictured Lauren. Imagined Bill standing next to her.
And he thanked God for giving him just enough life to finish what had been started sixty years earlier.
Chapter Forty-seven
The explosion made everyone duck for cover. Carol heard policemen shouting, “What the hell was that? Where did it come from?”
She knew right away. She’d spotted Daryl, her boy she thought she’d never see again, running from the Jersey Devil, her father-in-law strapped to its back.
When both the creature and Boompa exploded into a horrid mist, she was both sad and happy.
It was only right that he be the one to take down the demon that had nearly destroyed poor Lauren and haunted their family ever since.
Maybe now, they could lead normal lives, without the specter of the unknown hanging over them, wondering where everything was eventually going to lead.
Maybe now, they were free.
The last shots were fired as the final creature was brought down. With the big creature dead, the others seemed to simply give in.
Carol pushed past the police that had kept her protected, ignoring their orders to stop.
She ran, tears flowing like rapids, to her family. Her kids were hurt, but they’d be all right.
“Mom!” April and Daryl cried out at the same time. Norm stepped aside to give her free access to her children. Even Ben smiled, pulling her close to him.
“You know, Ma, I had everything under control,” he said.
She grabbed them all, laying their heads against her chest the way she used to when they were little. When she looked down at April’s arm, she noticed her shirt had been torn, revealing her torso.
The mark on her side was gone.
* * *
As he’d predicted, it had been too big to cover up. Norm Cranston ended up not needing the two bodies he’d stuffed in the cooler. There were plenty of others for the scientists to dissect and examine. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much left of the true Jersey Devil. There had been video, taken by people on their phones, proof that the big bastard did exist.
The speculation was that it couldn’t have been the very same Devil that sprang from Momma Leeds hundreds of years ago. It obviously procreated, as evidenced by all the smaller creatures. It only made sense.
Norm wasn’t so sure.
The mystery of the Jersey Devil had been solved, but in a way, it had only deepened. What exactly was it?
Neither he nor the Willets mentioned in the dozens of interviews they went through that it had spoken. That would have been too much. Maybe someday, Norm would talk about it, but by then he was sure most people wouldn’t believe him. He’d just be an old cryptozoologist looking to gain a bit of the spotlight one last time.
Getting out of his rental car, he thought of all the people who’d been lost. Papers had listed their names the way they did after 9/11. Of the hundreds, he only recognized Bill and Sam Willet, Heather Davids and Daniela Robards. Jane turned out to be Jane Moreland, a woman who had gone missing five years ago, along with her husband.
The ME was still going through all the remains found at the pits that Daryl led them to. There was a chance they could give a sense of finality to families of the missing.
The Pine Barrens held many secrets.
Now it held one less.
The tiny bells chimed as Norm walked in the door. Just like before, the general store was nice and cold, a perfect refuge from a sweltering day.
The same old woman still manned the register. She looked up from a book she was reading and nearly fell off her chair when she saw him.
Norm smiled. “I told you I’d come back to let you know I was all right.”
She grabbed his hand over the counter. “I saw you and that family on the TV. It’s a miracle you all survived.”
“Mind if I grab a s-soda?”
“You can have all the soda you want. It’s on me.”
She truly looked happy and relieved to see him. He wondered if his cat Salem would look at him the same way when he got back home.
Probably not.
The bottle of birch beer was about the most refreshing thing he’d had in weeks.
“Was everything they said true?” she asked, offering him a seat beside her.
His phone vibrated. Norm looked at the screen. It was his agent . . . again. He had big plans for Norm, plans that would make them both rich.
The only problem was, Norm wasn’t sure he ever wanted to revisit the nightmare. He did promise himself that he would give half of anything he made to the Willets. He and Carol vowed to keep in touch. Money couldn’t replace what she’d lost, but it was only right that they have it.
He swiped the call to Ignore.
“It was pretty bad,” he replied. “But it’s over, and I guess that’s what ma
tters most.”
She cut him off a large hunk of fresh fudge.
“Only if you share with me,” he said.
They ate in a perfectly comfortable silence
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
HUNTER SHEA is the author of the novels The Montauk Monster, Tortures of the Damned, Hell Hole, and many others. His stories have appeared in numerous magazines, including Dark Moon Digest, Morpheus Tales, and the Cemetery Dance anthology, Shocklines: Fresh Voices in Terror. His obsession with all things horrific has led him to real life-exploration of the paranormal, interviews with exorcists, and other things that would keep most people awake at night. He lives in New York with his family and vindictive cat. He waits with biblical patience for the Mets to win a World Series. You can read about his latest travails and communicate with him at www.huntershea.com.
This time, terror has teeth.
THE MONTAUK MONSTER
Hunter Shea
“Wholly enthralling hulk of a summer beach read.”
—Publishers Weekly
IT KILLS . . .
On a hot summer night in Montauk, the bodies of two local bar patrons are discovered in the dunes, torn to shreds, their identities unrecognizable . . .
IT BREEDS . . .
In another part of town, a woman’s backyard is invaded by four terrifying creatures that defy any kind of description. What’s clear is that they’re hostile—and they’re ravenous . . .
IT SPREADS . . .
With every sunset the terror rises again, infecting residents with a virus no one can cure. The CDC can’t help them; FEMA can’t save them. But each savage attack brings Suffolk County Police Officer Gray Dalton one step closer to the shocking source of these unholy creations. Hidden on nearby Plum Island, a U.S. research facility has been running top-secret experiments. What they created was never meant to see the light of day. Now a vacation paradise is going straight to hell.
“Shea combines ancient evil, old-school horror, and modern style.”
—Jonathan Maberry,