I was driving through the New Jersey back country when my rental blew a front tire and damn near killed me.

 

Once I got it back under control, I pulled over onto the shoulder and waited for my pulse to drop back below two hundred. Then I calmly pried my fingertips out of the deep divots they'd left in the steering wheel and went back to look at the damage.

 

That tire was in bad shape, all right. I'm a dab hand at jigsaws, but putting that tread back together again was beyond me. I dug out the jack and went looking for the spare, which it turns out I didn't have.

 

I'd been on my way home from a job for Doc Abbott at his new lab in Atlantic City, and a friend had sent me out here on this shortcut. Just as well, I suppose; if I'd been at highway speed, the car would've flipped for sure. At the time, though, it didn't seem like a lucky break.

 

The road was deserted, but fortunately the moon was both up and full. I grabbed my coat and hat and struck off toward what I hoped was civilization. I hadn't seen so much as a farmhouse for twenty minutes, and the road had to go somewhere, after all.

 

A couple of hours later, I was starting to wonder. The road ran on perfectly straight, but the pavement changed to gravel, and my shoes were made for cities. Still, the same logic applied: this was New Jersey, ten million people living in one of the smallest states in the Union. Just given the numbers, one of them had to live nearby, right?

 

Right?

 

* * *

 

One of the things they don't mention about the woods is how loud it can get. I'm from Manhattan, and I noticed it right off. Trees squeak and groan, there's bugs and bats zipping by, squirrels chatter, crickets chirp, and something out there makes this deep buzzing drone.

 

Until all of a sudden it all stops.

 

It was like some hidden signal went from tree to tree. The branches stopped moving, the bugs and bats called a truce, and that cricket hushed mid-chirp. I was leaning on a handy tree trunk near the road, taking rocks from my shoe, and I froze right along with everything else. My mouth went dry and I needed to cough, but I fought it down.

 

And then I saw it.

 

The moon had drifted out from behind some clouds and the thing stood out plain as day against the white gravel of the road. It was bigger than a man, but crouched down on all fours. I could hear it snuffling away, and it struck me that the thing was after me, following my scent. Could it be a bear?

 

I reached slowly for my .45, inching it from the holster with a minimum of noise. I still held some pebbles, which I could throw for a distraction, but with my shoe off there was no way I could run and nowhere to run to anyway. I crouched there and waited, tense as a coiled spring.

 

Then I saw its eyes. They glowed red as two coals above its long snout. This was no bear.

 

It was drawing closer fast, and there was no time. I waited until it cast its muzzle to one side, seeking scent, and I threw a pebble hard across the road. It hit a tree, startling a squirrel into chattering, and that beast positively leapt forward twenty feet and scaled the tree in seconds. The squirrel squealed once and was silent.

 

And then...

 

...nothing.

 

After a while, a breeze came up, the trees squeaked, and the crickets started chirping again. It was a long time after that before I was willing to move.

 

* * *

 

I kept to the shadows at the edge of the road, walking as quietly as I could on the thin carpet of pine needles. Once the moon set, though, I didn't dare to keep moving for fear I'd lose the road.

 

I may have dozed, because I didn't see the thing coming. It was just there, right in my face, a blinding red glow.

 

I froze just a moment, then snapped my gun up and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened, and I fumbled with the safety. Then I heard it speaking in a tinny little voice.

 

"Jack! Jack, is that you?"

 

"Doc? Doc Abbott?"

 

"Oh, excellent. Wait right there, my boy. The helicopter will arrive in moments."

 

And then the little robot flier turned and buzzed away, looking for the widest spot for a landing pad. Turns out yesterday's case had opened back up, and they'd been trying to trace me all night. Doc's drones had found my car an hour before.

 

Fifteen minutes later I was flying back to the lab.

 

* * *

 

We wrapped Doc's little mystery up in no time, and afterward we sat around and I told him about my ordeal.

 

"I guess that must've been another one of your little toys that I saw. I don't mind telling you, Doc: It scared the bejabbers outta me!"

 

Doc's face was troubled. "But it couldn't have been one of mine. At that hour, we were looking for you in New York, not the pine barrens."

 

At his words I felt my skin crawl, and I closed my eyes and thought back to my encounter. In my mind's eye, it sure didn't seem like one of his robots, and I said as much.

 

Well, to make a long story short, that day Doc sent his toys out looking, and they swept the whole area without finding even a single trace of what I'd seen. He chalked it up to a case of nerves, but me, I wasn't so sure. I've heard stories of the Jersey Devil...

 

The next day I got back into my repaired rental and left once more for New York and civilization.

 

This time, I stayed on the highway.