JERSEY DEVILS

By

Marcus Johnston

            I always knew there were demons on the New Jersey Turnpike, but no one ever thought they weren’t human.

            As usual, I was riding in my roommate Tom’s crappy old Honda.  I couldn’t afford to have a car in the city, but luckily, Tom was there to help out.  It was spooky outside as we drove through the southern marshlands of Jersey, traveling under a new moon in a pitch black sky.  Even the streetlights seemed to be dimmer… of course, I was pretty tired.  We had both come back from a concert in Philly and it was late, probably around midnight.  Tom was obviously tired as I was, since he was suddenly struck with the strangest notion.  “Hey, Pete.”

            “What?” I groaned.

            “You see those metal stick figures?”

            Metal stick figures? In my opinion, Tom needed to pull off the road, since I had no idea what he was talking about.  He must have been seeing things.  Widening my eyes, it took me a few seconds to see them.  Sure enough, all along the median were these metal contraptions; one every couple yards.  “Yeah?”

            “What do you think they’re for?”

            This had to be the stupidest question I had ever heard.  “Why does Jersey do anything? Who cares?!”

            “I do.  Why the hell would they bother putting all these things on the highway? There had to be a reason.”

            This was getting annoying.  I figured that the sooner I gave him an answer, the sooner I could go back to sleep.  So I sat up straight and got a better look.  “Signs,” I guessed, “I bet they hold up signs.”

            “No, they don’t.” Tom pointed to an oncoming sign on the median.  “See, they’re a different structure to it.  It can’t be signs.”

            “Leave it be.” I brushed him off, slinking back into my seat.  Maybe now I could catch some shut-eye.  Yet I no sooner closed my eyes when I felt the car slow down, then stop.  My eyes shot open to find us stopped on the shoulder of the road.  “Tom, what the hell are you doing?”

            “I’m getting one of ‘em.”

            “Tom, we’re in the middle of the damn turnpike!”

            But he was out the door before I could convince him otherwise.  Certain he was going to be flattened by the next speed demon, I rushed out after him.  “Tom, come back!”

            “There’s no one here, Pete!” he yelled back.  “Not another car for miles.” Then he did a cartwheel over to the median.

            That’s it… my roommate had flipped; now how was I going to pay the rent? Checking carefully down the road for headlights, I rushed after him.  He was already at one of the gaudy looking things, taking a closer look. 

“Tom, a cop’s going to be by here any moment.”

            A grin crept across his face.  “Then we better act fast.”

            “What?”

            Tom’s hands flew to the wing nuts holding the thing on.  “Damn.  They’re not even screwed on tight!”

            “What the hell…”

            My roommate interrupted my broken record trick.  “Come on, it’ll look great next to the beer sign!”

            “You wanna take it?!”

            “Hell, yeah! It’s gonna be a chick magnet!”

            “You’re nuts, Tom! Besides, the only chick that comes to our apartment is your mom.”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

“This won’t impress anyone, moron.”

            “Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

            Tom kept working away at releasing the metal stick figure.  I walked back to the car.  If the idiot wants to get pulled over for stealing a stupid Jersey sign holder, let him.  I was going to grab some sack time.  I heard him stuff the thing in the backseat, but he could kiss my ass if I was going to help him haul it upstairs to the apartment. 

            The next morning, I had almost forgotten about Tom’s obsession with the roadside modern art until I saw it again, dominating the coffee table.  I shook my head, grabbed a cup of coffee, and turned back to face the day.  Yup, even awake, the stupid thing was still there.  I finished the coffee and went out for my run.

            I figure if I can make it from Broadway up to the Cloisters without collapsing, I’m doing pretty good.  Hell, getting that far without being mugged is a feat in itself.  I always run in the early morning, though—around the same time muggers clock out from the night shift and head home to bed.

Pushing uphill all the way, I managed not to pass out in the brisk morning air and was rewarded with a view of the Hudson.  Looking at the GW Bridge and Jersey beyond, I remembered something about the other side of the fence.  At least I can get to work within the hour.

            Then I see the river itself; something wasn’t right.  It took me a moment of squinting before I finally saw what was bugging me.  The river was going backwards.  No matter how long I stared at it, the view didn’t change.  Odd, I thought, then I ran back down the hill.  It must be an optical illusion.  Either I never noticed it before… or the wind was blowing the waves or… whatever.  Everyone knew the Hudson flowed south; I didn’t let it bother me.

            I ran back down to the apartment, took a shower, and got ready for the day.  It was only after I was out the door that I remembered I had left something in Tom’s car—the report I had been reviewing for work.  Tom, luckily, had given me a spare key a long time ago.  I grabbed my stuff, rushed down the stairs, and checked on the car.  When I pulled out my key chain, I looked for the car door key… it was missing.  I checked again, carefully going through the chain, it was the only key missing. 

            Great, I thought, Tom probably asked for it back a while ago, and I forgot.  Yet as I looked into the car, I saw the report I had been working on for work right there on the dashboard.  I was dead without it; as good as fired.  I reached for my cell phone when it suddenly beeped. 

            “Hello?”

            “Can’t get your door open?” said a sexy female on the other end.

            “How did you…”

            “Where are you at?”

            This was getting weird.  “In front of my apartment.”

            “Be right over.”

            The next thing I know, an ambulance comes wailing down the street.  It screeched to a halt in front of me, with the words “Lock Doctor” written on the side.  Weirdness became even stranger; you couldn’t get that kind of service in Manhattan.

            Out of the front door came… well, this beautiful dark-haired woman, dressed in tight-fitting blue jeans and a blouse.  Needless to say, I was shocked when she came straight up to me, saying, “You called?”

            “I… ah, um…” I was fumbling for words like I had been fumbling for keys a second ago.

            “Is this what you’re looking for?” she held up a single key.  It looked exactly like Tom’s car key; it even had the funny paint flecks from that time he tried to paint over a scratch. 

            “Yeah, that’s it! But how did you get it?”

            “My problem,” she replied.  I reached out to grab it, but she snatched the key away.  “I need something in return.”

            I tried to tuck in my drool.  “What?”

            “You need to return the idol.”

            “The what?”

            She sighed.  “You and your friend removed something from the freeway last night, yes?”

“Turnpike,” I corrected.  How the hell did she know all this, I wondered, and where did she get my key?

“Same difference.”

“No,” I continued, trying desperately to look at her eyes and not below, “on a freeway, I don’t have to pay five bucks to cross Jersey…”

“Enough!” she commanded, with a voice that silenced the street.  “You need to return it to its proper place.”

            I was desperately trying to get a hold on reality.  “Wait a minute.  What does Tom’s little stick figure have to do with my car key?”

            “I needed your attention.”

            One more look at her body and… “You’ve got that already.”

            “You must return it, and soon.  Millions of lives are at risk.  The entire state of New Jersey could be destroyed.”

            I thought about it for a moment, then shrugged.  “And that’s bad because…?”

            She grabbed my shoulders and shook them.  “You must go now.  Return the idol before its too late!”

            “Yeah, sure,” I replied, “but before I can, I need the key back.”

            She dropped it back in my hand.  “You must hurry.”

            I opened the car door and pulled out the report.  “You know, you’ve got an awfully…”

            My throat caught halfway as I turned back to face her.  The beautiful woman and her locksmith ambulance had disappeared.

            I wasn’t sure what the hell was wrong with me.  Maybe I was dreaming; maybe I wasn’t quite awake yet.  Either way, things weren’t making a lot of sense.  Why would a turnpike sign holder matter so much? I hurried up and caught the subway; I didn’t have much time before work.

            You know, you see a lot of strange things on the subway.  Bums, bloodshot-eyed old ladies, street performers—so I didn’t even blink an eyelid when a little twisted dwarf came up to me, smelling like a broken gas line, with steam rising off his head.  I just shook my head.  “Sorry, man, no change today.”

            “If I wanted your pitiful amount of money, Pete, you’d be dead already.”

            His voice sent chills down my spine, like nails on a blackboard.  Was the nametag on my underwear showing or did everyone in New York know my name? “What do you want?”

            “I want you to listen, smart ass.” He strutted over to the white-haired lady crammed next to me and said, “Move it, will ya?” As if she was in a trance, the lady moved, reaching for the pole and the stinky dwarf sat down.

            “When did you bathe last?”

            “This morning,” the dwarf moaned, taking out a cigarette and lighting up.  I doubt he would have cared if I told him there was no smoking on the subway.  “When you’re stuck in a swamp for the past fifty years, it just don’t wash away, hear me?”

            “Yeah, I hear ya.  So can the whole train.”

            “Who? Them?” he waved toward the people around me.  “They can’t hear or see me.  They’re cattle.  I can move them around with a prod.”

            “A prod?”

            “Mental.” The dwarf pointed at his head, taking another drag.  “You ever have the urge to suddenly go somewhere, leave, do things you wouldn’t normally do?”

            “Yeah, but I always thought commercials were to blame.”

            “Nah, it was one of my brothers.”

            “Or sisters?”

            “We’re not egalit… ega-loo…”

            “Egalitarian?” I suggested.

            “Whatever,” he shrugged.  “Now I know you already talked with Draca.”

            “Draca?”

            “The locksmith bitch!” The dwarf took another drag.  “Do you think that women like that make service calls above 200^th Street?”

            “I thought this stuff only happened before I got my coffee.”

            He finished his cigarette, then clapped his hands together.  The butt disappeared.  “I’m here to offer you something stronger.  I’m asking you not to return the idol.”

            “You mean that metal stick figure?”

            “Yeah.  The stick figure.” The dwarf rolled his eyes.  “If you don’t return the idol, I’ll grant you any wish you want.”

            “Aren’t you going to warn me not to wish for more wishes?”

            “If you’re that stupid, I wouldn’t make the offer.”

            I thought about it for a moment.  There was no way in hell I was going to hump my ass back over to the middle of nowhere Jersey just to put a stupid hunk of metal back in its place.  Not unless mystery girl… Draca?… was willing to offer me more than just promises of apocalyptic doom.  So I thought, what the hell?! “All right, I wish I had a six-figure salary that I don’t have to work too hard at, a fancy car, and a nice penthouse apartment near Central Park…” I let my voice drag, just in case I thought I was forgetting something, then remembered the key phrase, “…from now until all eternity.”

            “That’s it?”

“Yeah… I can take everything else from there.”

The dwarf smiled and clapped his hands.  “You got it, man.” As the subway slowed down for its next stop, he got up and headed towards the door.  “Thanks for understanding.”

            “Sure,” I replied, “whatever.”

            Then the smelly smoking dwarf got out at 116^th Street as I went on to work.

            As if my day couldn’t get any stranger, when I finally did get to work, all hell had broken loose.  Suddenly, two bosses ahead of me unexpectedly quit, one retired, another committed suicide, and one other went on maternity leave, even though I was sure Henderson was a guy.  With the corporate ladder of this large banking firm in chaos, the office politics factions were going at each other, vying for power. 

            I was taking my daily morning report in when I stumbled across this frenzied board meeting.  The department heads were yelling at each other, trying to get the top seat job, but none of them were backing down.  The last thing I wanted was to get into this mess, so I slid around the side, moving to drop my report in the in-basket.

            “Hold it!” the exec VP of loans shouted, quieting the room.  “It’s obvious we’re getting nowhere.  And there’s no consensus on who will be the next CEO.”

            “But we need someone to take over the position.”

            “And quick!”

            “At least ‘till the next stockholder meeting.”

            The VP made himself known again.  “But we’ll need a neutral third-party, someone who is not aligned with any department.”

            I was careful dropping my report in the basket.  Then suddenly, the basket tipped over, hit the paperweights and the pictures, causing a massive avalanche of office supplies, ending with a mighty CRASH!!!

            All eyes suddenly turned to me and I was trapped, a deer in the headlights.  The VP threw an accusing finger and shouted.  “HIM!”

“Who is he?!”

“He’s nobody!”

            “He’s perfect!”

            “YOU, SIR!” The VP smiled with an evil grin as he came over to pump my hand.  I’m sure all the blood had left my face by this point.  “How would you like to be the new president and CEO?”

            So that’s how I went from a second-level programmer to head of a multi-national bank in one step.  Along with the job came a fat salary, use of the company car (a Bentley, no less), and a penthouse apartment at the edge of Central Park.

            Although I was still dazed and confused, sipping cognac as I watched the gorgeous sunset, I couldn’t help wondering: Did all this have anything to do with a smelly dwarf on the subway that morning?

            Nah…

            The next days passed by like a dream.  I would go into work (now a ten-minute walk instead of an hour-long train ride) about 9 am, flirt with my gorgeous secretary, drink some coffee, and sign some papers.  I’d watch the news for a while, then about 11 o’ clock, I’d go for a three-hour lunch break.  I went to the classiest restaurants, then worked out with the best trainers at the most exclusive gyms, then eventually made my way back to the office.  Then a quick jaunt upstairs, sign some more papers, and watch cartoons until 5 pm. 

            Suddenly my debts were the same amount as I spent on rent and I easily paid them.  I saw all the Broadway shows, I got to party with the cast, and I drove like a demon through the city streets.  Life was unbelievable.

            It wasn’t until the next week of this orgy of wealth that I started noticing more strange things.  Enormous vines started growing on streetlamps, people spontaneously combusting into flames, strange creatures that looked like gargoyles flying through the sky.  None of this really bothered me until a giant heavily-armored battle elephant cut me off when I was driving up Broadway. 

            That’s when enough was enough.  I had to track down the locksmith babe and find out what was happening fast.  As soon as I got home I reached for my cell phone.  It was already ringing.  I quickly picked it up.  “You didn’t listen to my warning, did you?”

            “It was kinda hard to believe.”

            The sexy voice went on.  “Right now, Newark is under siege by a horde of Mongols, and you found returning an idol a little hard to believe?”

            “Mongols, street gangs… what’s the difference?”

            “Plenty.  You have let the armies of darkness and corruption out of their temporal gate and you still don’t believe?”

            “Look, why don’t you come over and explain this to me.  All right? None of this is making sense.”

            I heard a knock at the door.  “Open your door,” Draca ordered.

            Quickly hanging up the phone, I opened the door to once again see that luscious model step right through it.  “You are a fool.”

            “No, just a New Yorker.  Mind telling me what’s going on?”

            Draca sighed and went over to the window.  Looking out at the gorgeous view, she didn’t bother turning around.  “There is a large swamp in southern New Jersey.  From the dawn of time, it has been sparsely populated, and is the most tangled place on Earth.”

            “Worse than rush hour?”

            She whipped around, her long black hair swinging around like out of a movie shot.  “Oh, far worse.  You see, the forces of evil and their demon spawn can only exist on this plane if they pass through one of several temporal gates on Earth.  Great monuments were built over them and mystically aligned to contain the forces beyond.  Giza, Delhi, Yucatan, Ayer’s Rock…”

            “Wait a minute,” I interjected, “Ayer’s Rock is natural!  It’s a big damn stone in Australia!”

            “A large mountain, Pete, in the middle of the flat outback? Now who’s telling fairy tales?” I was struck dumbfounded as she continued.  “It was the first of the edifices, made to look natural, at a time when our powers were just beginning.”

            “Our powers?”

            “The guardians of the gates.  I am responsible for the one in New Jersey.  Before 1955, my job was far more difficult, forced to make do with glyphs and monsters to patrol the gate.  It wasn’t as effective.  When the Turnpike was conceived, I made sure to whisper into the ear of the designer.  Behold, my mystic icons, spaced along the turnpike, were able to finally seal the breach and prevent the evil from escaping.”

            This was all a little hard to swallow.  Mystic gates, great monuments, a hundred-year-old babe looking that hot… too much! “Hate to tell you this, but you’re not stopping jack.  There’s been plenty of evil going on before I came along.”

            Draca sighed.  “Man creates visions more terrible than anything in heaven or hell.”

            Touché.  I swallowed down a dry throat; I quickly made myself a drink.  As I poured the scotch, I suddenly realized something.  “Wait a minute!  Why is it up to me? I mean, why not Tom?”

            “Tom was summoned by the demons to remove the idol, since you were close enough to the gate to be affected.  You are one of the few rare mortals immune to both white and black magic.  Therefore, you were the only obstacle to the demon’s plans.  You had to be convinced… and they succeeded.”

            “So what happens… and I’m just speaking hypothetically here…” I took a swig of my drink, “if I don’t return the idol back to the turnpike?”

            The beautiful woman stepped closer and closer to me, fire dancing in her eyes.  “Hypothetically, Pete, if you don’t return the idol, then everything you know… everyone you love… will drown in their own vomit, wade in their own blood, and live an eternity of servitude to their demon masters.”

            I downed the last of the glass and set it down.  “That… would be bad.”

            “Then you will return it?”

            It didn’t take long for me to decide.  “Sure.”

            I drove like a demon (no pun intended), racing past fire trucks, archers, cop cars, centaurs, yetis, and even cab drivers as I rushed up the island of Manhattan.  It didn’t take too long before I was at my old apartment.  After double parking, I rushed up the stairs, remembered I still had the key (after all, I was paid for the month), and went into the apartment.  Sure enough, the idol was still sitting on the coffee table.  Tom’s voice suddenly broke out from the next room.  “Pete?”

            Wasting no time, I grabbed the metal stick figure and raced out the door.  I heard my roommate’s voice again.  “Pete?” By the time I hit the second landing, I knew he saw what I had done.  A horrible cry came from his rapidly receding voice: “NO!!!” That sound of utter desperation had me leaping down the stairwell.  I heard his heavy footsteps racing after me by the time I hit the exit.

            As I got outside, I saw a hydra dressed in a meter maid’s outfit, getting ready to ticket my car.  My momentum pushed me into its sight, upon which it turned and hissed at me.  I grabbed a bunch of money from my wallet and threw it at it.  “Here! Fine paid!”

            All three heads of the demon roared with laughter, distracting it long enough for me to throw the idol into the Bentley, get myself in the driver’s seat, and start the car.  By then, Tom had reached the apartment door.  I quickly shifted into drive and pulled out.  My roommate raced after me, finally clinging to the side of the door as he screamed.  “No! You can’t take it! It’s MINE! I need IT!” With every breath, his voice grew shriller and more grating, like that of the demon I met on the subway.  “The idol belongs to my master… it feeds from its power, you can’t…”

            A quick turn onto Dyckman and Tom fell off.  I didn’t have time to see if he was all right; I needed to get out of town.

            For once, the George Washington Bridge wasn’t packed, and I burned rubber as I plugged my ears against the beautiful sirens, trying to lure me to my death, hanging from the upper spires of the structure.  Soon enough, I hit the New Jersey Turnpike.  I went right through the prepaid lane at 80 miles an hour, even though I was sure I didn’t have one of those electronic thingies.  As I raced south, I caught the frantic looks of the drivers passing in the opposite direction.  It took me a moment to figure out why.  As I drove faster, I could see the flames licking off the towers of Newark. 

            Once I got close enough, the Mongol horde was plainly evident encamped outside the city.  I was hoping that one more car wouldn’t catch their interest; I was wrong.  A squadron of riders suddenly broke off from the pack, rushing towards my little car.  My foot was all the way on the gas pedal and still they gained on me.  Soon enough, they loosed arrow after arrow against me.  I could hear the arrowheads plunk into the steel body of the Bentley, wincing at what it was going to cost to repair.  One shaft broke my left side mirror; another flew right across my windshield.

            It wouldn’t be long before they would force me off the road; I had to do something.  Suddenly, there was a traffic jam ahead.  I whisked the car onto the narrow shoulder and kept going, scraping the sides of the car against the median and the stopped cars.  The crunch of mirrors and the screech of metal happened all around me.  The Mongols tried to keep up, but were slowed down by having to fight off motorists.  Ancient warriors are no match for New Yorkers commuters in road rage.

            Clearing the jam, it was a straight shot down the turnpike.  It was a quiet trip after that.  Along the way, I saw dark druids offer human sacrifices, 16-wheelers under attack by flying monkeys, and ghosts playing chicken somewhere east of Philly.

            I was almost there when I saw another car come up right behind me.  I couldn’t believe it; it was Tom’s crappy Honda.  He was catching up to me, despite the fact that I was going past what the speedometer measured.  I had to be getting close to the spot now, although it was late at night, and I was rather…

            Suddenly, I noticed it, the gap in the metal stick figures.  I hit the brakes and the car screeched to a halt.  The Bentley had almost stopped when the Honda smashed into it from the rear.  Luckily, I had my safety belt and air bag.  Tom had neither.  My roommate flew through his front windshield, my back windshield, and smashed himself against the passenger seat, ramming it flat.  I had barely got the wind back in me when Tom reached for my neck, trying to strangle me.  “The idol is MINE!”

            I made a quick jab to his face; he didn’t even dodge.  Tom suddenly snapped back, slamming against the other side of the car.  Unlocking the door, I quickly got out, opened the back, and pulled out the metal stick figure.  Even though I was still woozy, my head was clearing with the fact that my roommate wanted to kill me. 

I raced with the idol, making for the gap in the median where it belonged.  The wind suddenly kicked up and I could hear the unearthly howling of the demon spawn all around me.  Tom had managed to get up and he was screaming as he chased after me.  Soon, even his voice was drowned out by the hounds of hell howling, pleading with me to stop.  I let nothing get in my way as I lifted up the idol, placed it back down upon the bolts…

The entire chorus of hell exhaled in one desperate gasp; the sound was horrendous.  I clasped my hands to my ears but nothing could stop the noise.  In desperation and pain, I dropped to my knees, then to the pavement.  Finally, my brain could take no more and I passed out. 

I awoke to find out it was night, back in Tom’s shitty old Honda.  My roommate was beside me, passed out in the driver’s seat, as our car was parked on the shoulder of the New Jersey Turnpike.  My God, I thought, it was all a dream.  None of it was real… Newark wasn’t being attacked by Mongols, Manhattan wasn’t swarming with gargoyles, I didn’t own a car… it was all a dream.

Suddenly, there were footsteps and I looked over to see a cop shining a flashlight in my face.  “Is there a problem here, gentlemen?”

That voice… I squinted and saw the face of Draca hidden under that state trooper’s hat.  “Uh, no.  No, ma’am.”

“You know, loitering on the turnpike is a violation of the…”

“Yes, we’re sorry, ma’am.  We were just tired coming out of Philly.  We’ll get going now.”

“Well,” she chewed her lip, “all right.  I won’t fine you this time.  Go on, get out of here.”

I shoved Tom hard and he groggily woke up.  “What?”

“Time to go.  The cop says we can’t stop here.”

“Oh.” Tom looked over at Draca and involuntarily jumped.  “Oh! Sorry… yes, officer.”

“Drive safe,” she replied, before she looked my way… and gave me a wink.

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