Read Online The Montauk Monster by Hunter Shea - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Hunter Shea
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a scattering of tattered dark clouds obliterating swaths of star fields, swirling together like silver glitter on his niece’s little art table.
Might as well take a walk around while I’m here.
He grabbed his Maglite from his belt and swept the beam from left to right, giving the area the once-over. This whole section of the beach had been closed off all day, but you’d never know it by the mass of footprints in the sand that hadn’t been washed clean by the rising tide. Every official and their second kissing cousin had been here. It was going to take a long while for things to settle down. Sure, the news would move on to the next disaster du jour, but for the folks who lived here, there would be little rest until they confirmed who the victims were and who or what killed them.
If that car belonged to Randy Jenks, who had been his unlucky passenger and where had they come from? So far, they’d kept Randy’s name out of the press, quietly following up to locate him for questioning. It was looking more and more like he was the male victim.
The sound of movement in the reeds to his left startled him. He spun the flashlight’s beam into the five-foot-high crop of beach grass. Their tops wavered back and forth. Was it the wind, or was there something behind them?
Squinting, he peered within the gaps of the beach overgrowth, the arcing light giving life to sweeping shadows. His arm jerked to the right when something shifted, then stopped.
I’m not fucking around. Not here.
With his free hand, he unclipped his holster and lifted his gun.
“This is the police. I need you to come out of there right now with your hands up as high as they’ll go.”
A soft gurgling sound gave a solemn reply.
Dalton felt the first trembling jolt of adrenaline push through his system. He took a deep breath and steadied his gun hand. Part of his training was learning to work with your body’s responses to potential danger. The fight-or-flight instinct was a nasty SOB of a primal urge to wrangle. The good cops learned to master it, make it their bitch.
He may not have been on the force long, but he knew he was a good cop.
“I don’t like to repeat myself. I said to get the hell out of there now, where I can see you, hands high. Now!”
The reeds trembled.
“Ggggnnnnccchhhh.”
Looks like I’m going in.
Dalton took a step. The sand shifted and his right ankle nearly rolled from under him.
“Last chance to come out before I start taking this personal. You’re not going to like the way I drag you out.”
Two more steps.
The reeds became still. The strange yet familiar noise had stopped.
Someone was there.
Or was it some thing ?
The tip of his freshly shined shoe touched the edge of the reed patch. Using the barrel of his gun, he pushed the tall stalks aside.
CHAPTER 9
Margie’s lungs felt like they’d been crushed between two trucks. The thrumming of her pulse was so deafening, she could hear nothing but her own frantic heartbeat.
One, two, three animals, creatures so foreign to her it appeared as if they’d been dropped from an unseen, hovering alien craft, slinked from the shadows. They stepped in tandem, their heavily muscled backs undulating with each movement of their massive paws.
The more they emerged from the shadows under the tree, the more Margie knew for certain they were not stray dogs or wandering deer. Mottled fur and heavy, impossible faces were brought into crisp detail under the incandescence of the moon.
Her stomach tightened. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing, not even a stuttering exhalation, would come.
Noiselessly, the creatures continued their wary advance.
An acrid redolence, so strong her eyes began to tear, bullied the fresh air like a canister of tear gas set free.
Les, help me! She pleaded mutely, praying her husband would wake to go to the bathroom and give a curious look to see if she was taking her nightly smoke break.
Margie felt a patch of liquid warmth blossom on her
Might as well take a walk around while I’m here.
He grabbed his Maglite from his belt and swept the beam from left to right, giving the area the once-over. This whole section of the beach had been closed off all day, but you’d never know it by the mass of footprints in the sand that hadn’t been washed clean by the rising tide. Every official and their second kissing cousin had been here. It was going to take a long while for things to settle down. Sure, the news would move on to the next disaster du jour, but for the folks who lived here, there would be little rest until they confirmed who the victims were and who or what killed them.
If that car belonged to Randy Jenks, who had been his unlucky passenger and where had they come from? So far, they’d kept Randy’s name out of the press, quietly following up to locate him for questioning. It was looking more and more like he was the male victim.
The sound of movement in the reeds to his left startled him. He spun the flashlight’s beam into the five-foot-high crop of beach grass. Their tops wavered back and forth. Was it the wind, or was there something behind them?
Squinting, he peered within the gaps of the beach overgrowth, the arcing light giving life to sweeping shadows. His arm jerked to the right when something shifted, then stopped.
I’m not fucking around. Not here.
With his free hand, he unclipped his holster and lifted his gun.
“This is the police. I need you to come out of there right now with your hands up as high as they’ll go.”
A soft gurgling sound gave a solemn reply.
Dalton felt the first trembling jolt of adrenaline push through his system. He took a deep breath and steadied his gun hand. Part of his training was learning to work with your body’s responses to potential danger. The fight-or-flight instinct was a nasty SOB of a primal urge to wrangle. The good cops learned to master it, make it their bitch.
He may not have been on the force long, but he knew he was a good cop.
“I don’t like to repeat myself. I said to get the hell out of there now, where I can see you, hands high. Now!”
The reeds trembled.
“Ggggnnnnccchhhh.”
Looks like I’m going in.
Dalton took a step. The sand shifted and his right ankle nearly rolled from under him.
“Last chance to come out before I start taking this personal. You’re not going to like the way I drag you out.”
Two more steps.
The reeds became still. The strange yet familiar noise had stopped.
Someone was there.
Or was it some thing ?
The tip of his freshly shined shoe touched the edge of the reed patch. Using the barrel of his gun, he pushed the tall stalks aside.
CHAPTER 9
Margie’s lungs felt like they’d been crushed between two trucks. The thrumming of her pulse was so deafening, she could hear nothing but her own frantic heartbeat.
One, two, three animals, creatures so foreign to her it appeared as if they’d been dropped from an unseen, hovering alien craft, slinked from the shadows. They stepped in tandem, their heavily muscled backs undulating with each movement of their massive paws.
The more they emerged from the shadows under the tree, the more Margie knew for certain they were not stray dogs or wandering deer. Mottled fur and heavy, impossible faces were brought into crisp detail under the incandescence of the moon.
Her stomach tightened. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing, not even a stuttering exhalation, would come.
Noiselessly, the creatures continued their wary advance.
An acrid redolence, so strong her eyes began to tear, bullied the fresh air like a canister of tear gas set free.
Les, help me! She pleaded mutely, praying her husband would wake to go to the bathroom and give a curious look to see if she was taking her nightly smoke break.
Margie felt a patch of liquid warmth blossom on her
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