by Max Brallier
“Here’s what the Fact File says,” Mews said, and began reading:
“‘In 1995, several Puerto Rican farmers were faced with a strange puzzle. The goats and chickens on their farms had died mysteriously during the night. The animals had two puncture wounds in them, almost like marks from a vampire’s fangs. Was a coyote to blame? A panther? Wild dogs? The villagers didn’t think so. They were sure that the creature that had attacked their animals was a Chupacabra, Spanish for “goat, sucker.”
“‘Although the first Chupacabra sighting was reported in 1950, after the 1995 sightings Chupacabra fever swept the world. As reports came in, people started sketching what they thought the beast looked like: about five feet tall with a large mouth full of sharp fangs. It had large, red, alien-like eyes, stood on two legs, and had very sharp claws.
“‘Some people have taken pictures of what they believe are dead Chupacabras, but scientists have proven that those photos show only coyotes with a disease called mange. Does this prove that the Chupacabra doesn’t exist? Nobody has yet explained how all those goats and chickens died. And those who have seen the Chupacabra have said they’ll never forget the monster with the glowing eyes . . .’”
“Sounds like a grand old time,” Annie said nervously.
“Set your coordinates for Puerto Rico,” Mews replied.
“Mr. Mews, one question,” Annie said, just as Mews was about to sign off.
“Yes, Annie?” he asked.
“Gretchen knew I would be at Loch Ness. She knew exactly where I was going to be and exactly when I’d be getting there. How is that possible?”
Mr. Mews fiddled with his mustache as he thought. “I can’t say for sure. She has a network of operatives. Also, that radio host sure blabbers a lot.”
Annie nodded.
“Check in once you’ve arrived,” Mr. Mews said. Then he signed off.
A few button presses later and the whirlybird was banking away from the Scottish coastline and soaring out over the vast expanse of white-capped waves that was the Atlantic Ocean. Annie flipped the switch marked AUTOPILOT. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and was soon fast asleep—dreaming alternately of a horrible monster with glowing eyes and a million-dollar payday that would save her family from bankruptcy.
The heat was stifling. It was now early morning, and Annie was marching across Puerto Rican farmland in search of the infamous Chupacabra. The breeze coming off the rolling grassy hills did little to cool the air.
“Hey, you there, halt!” a voice shouted. Annie spun. The voice belonged to a farmer. He was marching up the hill behind Annie, holding on to a pitchfork like he planned on poking a few holes in her with it.
“You a human being?” he asked sharply.
“Huh?” Annie said, confused.
“You’re not, y’know,” the farmer said, looking around nervously like someone might be listening, “El Chupacabra.”
Annie laughed. “No, I’m not the Chupacabra.”
The farmer smiled. He was a large man—nearly seven feet tall, Annie guessed. But he reached into his pocket and pulled out the tiniest pair of glasses Annie had ever seen. He slipped them onto his nose, and Annie couldn’t help but giggle.
“Oh yes,” the farmer said. “You’re clearly a person. I see that now.”
“I am on the hunt for the Chupacabra, though,” Annie said. “Do you know anything about it?”
“Know anything about it?!” the farmer exclaimed. “It is my archenemy!”
“What do you mean?” Annie asked.
“Chupacabra is ruining my life! Harassing my animals. It ate two of my goats!”
“Then we’ll just have to catch it, won’t we?” Annie said, with a sly grin.
The farmer’s name was Felix Aviles, and he lived in a beautiful, Spanish-style farmhouse that stood at the center of a sprawling ranch. He gave Annie a short tour, showing her the cows and goats that grazed the fields and the large plantain trees that towered over the property. They walked the length of his farm. Annie wasn’t quite sure what she hoped to find, but she figured she’d know it when she saw it.
And she did, just moments later.
But before she saw it, she tripped over it.
She hit the ground, rolled end over end, then sat up rubbing her head. She had tripped on the skeleton of a goat. She looked closer. On the bones, she saw thick, deep tooth marks.
Whatever ate this poor goat was awful hungry.
“See?!” Felix said, helping Annie to her feet. “Goat bone! Dang Chupacabra ate that goat! Please find that monster!”
Annie frowned. Easier said than done. No dart games to help her here. Annie ran her hand through her hair, thinking . . .
“Has anyone ever had any luck?”
“No,” Felix said.
“Is there a place where the creature has been spotted? Where we could look?” Annie asked.
“There is one place . . .”
“Where?” Annie asked excitedly.
“You can’t go. It’s too dangerous!”
“I’ll decide if it’s too dangerous. Where?”
“In the mountains, there is a place known as the Devil’s Jaw. Many goat bones have been found there. Some suspect it’s where the animal feeds.”
Annie smiled. “Then what are we waiting for?”
It was a long, treacherous trip. Felix drove his old pickup truck up along the tree-lined mountain paths. “Does anyone ever come up here?” Annie asked.
Felix shook his head. “Many have come to the island in search of El Chupacabra. But few have come up here—the danger is too great.”
After a long day’s journey, they came to the strange collection of boulders and stones known as the Devil’s Jaw. Large rocks jutted out of the ground like fangs. Through the rock fangs was a small clearing surrounded by high stone walls. There was only one way in and one way out. Inside the rocky hideaway were piles and piles of goat bones. It was a ghastly sight and it seemed clear to Annie that this was, indeed, the Chupacabra’s feeding spot.
Now what? Knowing where the cryptid fed was one thing. Catching it was another thing entirely! Annie looked around, searching for a clue to how they might actually catch the creature. “I have no idea what to do,” Annie said after a moment, frustrated. “Bananas!”
“No, no, not bananas. They’re called plantains,” Felix said. “They’re like Puerto Rican bananas.”
Annie looked at Felix, confused—then she realized what he meant. Large plantain trees were towering over them, and the plantain fruit did look an awful lot like bananas. “Oh, I didn’t mean bananas, like the fruit,” Annie said. “‘Bananas’ is just sort of something I say sometimes when I’m frustrated or annoyed or scared or hungry or pretty much anytime really.”
“Oh. Okay . . . ,” Felix said. Annie figured he probably thought she was bananas.
Annie was still looking at the tree when a large, ripe plantain fell to the ground. And very quickly, a small rodent scurried from the underbrush, pounced on the plantain, and dragged it away.
Annie smiled. She had an idea . . .
Minutes later, Annie was behind the wheel of Felix’s old pickup truck, driving with serious speed. The speakers were blasting Puerto Rican calypso and Annie couldn’t help but smile: She was so far from home—so far from what she’d known her whole life—and she was in the midst of an adventure for the ages!
Annie gunned the engine, and it barked and roared as she raced down the mountainside. She kept her eyes glued to the path ahead—waiting, hoping, and then . . .
A goat sprinted out from behind a rock up ahead.
“There you are!” Annie exclaimed.
She sped up, staying behind the animal. The goat leaped over a small rock formation. Annie cut the wheel hard and careened around the rock, barely staying on the path. She came up behind the goat, blasting the horn.
The animal turned its head and looked at her like she was absolutely insane.
“Sorry, goat!” Annie shouted over the roar
of the engine. “I just need to borrow you for a sec!”
She turned hard toward the bounding animal, the truck’s cab bouncing like crazy. The goat made a loud goat noise—something like MAAAA!!!!—and then it hooked to the right and took off in the other direction, back up the mountainside.
“Good,” Annie said, watching the goat run. “Thataway.”
The goat began to sprint to the left, but Annie floored it and the truck lurched ahead, pulling alongside the goat and herding it back to the right. She kept her foot on the gas, guiding the animal forward. A second later, Annie slowed down as the goat sprinted through the narrow entrance to the Devil’s Jaw.
Perfect.
Annie parked the truck. She took a long drink of water, then walked past the large stones and into the Devil’s Jaw. Felix was waiting for her on the other side.
“Over here!” Felix shouted from behind a boulder. “The trap is all set!”
Felix had tied the mountain goat to a tree with a thick rope. Just in front of the goat was a huge wooden crate. A stick held the crate up off the ground. As soon as the Chupacabra got close enough to bump the stick . . . BAM! The crate would drop, and they’d have the Chupacabra caught!
Now there was nothing to do but wait.
Annie followed Felix’s lead and ducked behind the boulder.
“You think it’ll work?” Felix asked, adjusting his glasses.
“I hope so!” Annie said.
They waited and waited and waited. Annie wondered if she had been wrong. Had her trap been silly? Maybe this wasn’t even where the Chupacabra fed. Maybe the creature didn’t even exist!
No. Don’t think that way. It’s like I told Mews. I believe in the unbelievable.
And then, at that moment, she heard a loud snap. Annie peered around the boulder. The trap had been sprung: The wooden crate had dropped and the mountain goat stood safely beneath the tree. Etched on the goat’s face, however, was a look of sheer terror. Annie stepped close to the animal, running her hand over its short, coarse hair, soothing it.
And then she turned to the crate.
Inside that crate, Annie hoped, would be the Chupacabra.
Annie crept toward the box. She heard movement inside it. Scraping.
The sounds of the Chupacabra?
Annie crept closer still. There was banging from inside the box now. Annie’s heart pounded in her chest. She placed her ear to the box and . . .
All Fed Up
The box was tossed into the air and thrown aside! Annie pulled her hand away and leaped back, terrified. “The Chupacabra is loose!” she shouted.
“Plantains!” Felix screamed as he dove back behind the rock.
But it was not the Chupacabra.
It was Gretchen Grimlock!
The villain stood where the box had been. Her long pink hair whipped around in the wind.
“Gretchen!” Annie exclaimed.
“You terrible little girl,” Gretchen snarled.
“What are you doing here?”
“I followed you in hopes of catching the Chupacabra. I never thought I’d fall into your inane little trap!”
“Followed me how?!” Annie exclaimed. “I didn’t see anyone behind me!”
“That’s my little secret,” Gretchen said, winking.
Annie’s eyes went wide. Her jaw hung open. A look of terror flashed across her face.
“That’s right,” Gretchen said, seeing the expression on Annie’s face. “You’re scared. Good! You should be scared. Because I am TERRIFYING!”
“Gretchen. Be-be-behind you,” Annie stuttered.
Gretchen put her hands on her hips. “I’m not falling for that one.” She scowled.
“Chu—Chu—” Annie stuttered, her eyes wide.
“Oh, look at you—you’re so scared that you’ve completely lost your mind! You’re imitating a train conductor! Choo-choo!” Gretchen howled. “Choo-choo!”
“Chu—Chu—Chupacabra!” Annie screamed.
“Huh?” Gretchen said, finally turning. And then she saw it, too . . .
The Chupacabra loomed at the entrance to the Devil’s Jaw. It was a vicious, howling, growling monster. It looked like a large, mangy dog—but with gray, almost blue skin. Small bony spikes protruded from its body.
What Annie noticed most were its eyes: two small glowing red dots. Those eyes seemed to lock on to Annie, ignoring everything else. Those eyes were the most horrifying things Annie had ever seen.
Annie stepped back, ready to run. But where? There was nothing but jagged rock surrounding them—the only way in and out was through the entrance, and the Chupacabra stood in front of that. The cryptid stepped forward. It snarled and shook its head, spraying white spittle.
And it kept its eyes locked on Annie.
Suddenly, Annie felt something. The ground was shaking beneath her feet. Ahead of her, two mountain goats charged through the entrance. The Chupacabra turned its ugly head just as another goat entered. And another. In an instant, there were a dozen goats charging—a full-on stampede!
The first goat collided with the Chupacabra, hitting it directly in the jaw. The beast’s head snapped back. It yelped, and then it began running. Now the entire stampede—with the Chupacabra out front—was coming straight for Annie.
“Bananas!” Annie yelped.
She looked around frantically. Nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. But maybe . . . yes! Above her was the plantain tree. Her only option. She leaped up and grabbed hold of the lowest leaf.
The Chupacabra was closing in on her, charging and roaring. Annie lifted her feet just as it charged beneath her—she felt its thick, bristly hair against her ankles as it passed. As she clung on for dear life, Annie saw Gretchen in the distance, escaping through the now-clear entrance. Argh!
The goats chased the Chupacabra around the rock enclosure and then back through the entrance.
The creature was gone.
Phew!
Just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Annie dropped to the ground and dusted herself off.
“Close one,” Felix said as he came around from behind the boulder.
“Hopefully it’ll leave your animals alone now,” Annie said. “At least for a while.”
“I hope so,” Felix said.
Annie looked up at the sun and squinted. So the Chupacabra was real. And the trap would have worked. But Gretchen Grimlock had gotten in the way. Annie had gotten nothing, nothing for all her—
Suddenly, out the corner of her eye, she noticed something flashing!
Annie ran over. A tooth! A Chupacabra tooth! Annie picked it up and grinned. “Nice try, Gretchen,” Annie said, “but in the end, I got the proof.”
Annie and Felix drove back down the mountain. If she was going to get more proof, Annie needed to do something about Gretchen. She’d never win the contest with someone out there plotting and scheming and cheating and battling her at every moment. Next time, Annie swore, she’d be ready for Gretchen.
Back in the helicopter, Annie flipped on the monitor and called Mews.
“Mr. Mews,” Annie said. “I’ve got a plan. I want you to call up Illinois Johnson at WADV Radio and tell him that I’m traveling to New Jersey to look for the Jersey Devil.”
Mr. Mews was confused. “But why?”
“Because he’ll announce it on the radio, and Gretchen will follow. And I’ll be waiting for her. I’m going to knock her out of this contest.”
Mr. Mews smiled. “How devious! Reminds me of the time . . .”
« NEWS FLASH! »
Adventure update! Illinois Johnson at WADV, The Adventure Hour, here with the latest on Harold Mews’s cryptid contest!
Brilliant inventor I. P. Lawe was headed to West Africa to track down the jungle walrus (that’s right, a walrus that lives in the jungle!) known as the Dingonek, but he was sidetracked by sabotage! At five thousand feet, the wings fell off his plane! Good thing he thought to invent the world’s greatest parachute! My guess at the saboteur? All I’ll say
is, it rhymes with Fetchen Fimsock . . .
I’ve just received word that Annie Perkins, after nearly nabbing the Chupacabra in Puerto Rico, is now on her way to New Jersey to hunt for the infamous Jersey Devil. And we’re not talking hockey here—we’re talking winged monsters!
Happy hunting, contestants! And now, a word from our sponsors . . .
Net Gains
Two days later, Annie walked into the Ticktock Diner in Leeds Point, New Jersey. Using information provided by Mr. Mews, Annie had tracked the cryptid known as the Jersey Devil to this small town. Legend said the creature haunted an old house on Prescott Road.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for this road,” Annie said to the waitress behind the counter as she unfolded her map. “Do you know how to get there?”
The waitress smiled warmly and drew directions to the road on the map.
“Thanks so much,” Annie said.
“Sure, happy to help,” the waitress said, smiling. “You be careful!”
But as soon as Annie walked outside, the waitress pulled a walkie-talkie from beneath the counter . . .
“Ms. Grimlock,” the waitress said into the walkie-talkie, “you were right. The girl was here. She’s headed out to the old Prescott place now. Good luck.”
Outside, Annie examined her surroundings. She felt like she was being watched . . . followed . . .
Good. Come and get me, Gretchen. Walk right into the trap I’ve set.
Prescott Road was long, narrow, and lined with massive oak trees. Annie raced along atop a small yellow dirt bike. Its bright halogen headlight cut through the night and lit up the trees. She navigated the road’s dark twists and turns as best she could, slowing down when necessary to avoid careening off into the woods.
As she rode, she kept her eyes on the rearview mirror. She was waiting for Gretchen to appear and, once again, try to knock her out of the contest.
As Annie rode, her mind wandered to the cryptid she was chasing. Eyes glued to the road and hands tight on the handlebars, Annie recounted Mews’s Fact File on the Jersey Devil:
