by Gurley, JE
We had almost made it to the entrance when something struck the car hard, forcing it into a stack of crates. As I slammed forward from the impact, Chuey opened the door and dove out. Shots rang out all around from automatic weapons. I followed Chuey, expecting to be shot any moment, but the gang members were not concerned with me, Chuey, or even the DEA. Soaring above them was the adult Chupacabra. Bullets tore into the ceiling and walls, shattering windows and knocking out florescent light fixtures. I hoped the guard I had stashed on the roof survived the fulisade from his friends below.
Seeing the Chupacabra brought back all my anger and frustration. I forgot about Chuey and went after it armed only with my .45. I didn’t know why the creature had waited until now to attack me. It didn’t exactly ignore me, but with so many men shooting at it, it was too busy killing to concentrate on me. It swooped down on groups of men, shredding their chests or severing their heads, spending its rage at me on them. Blood spread in pools across the warehouse floor. White dust filled the air as stray bullets ripped into bags loaded with cocaine.
I plucked an M-16 from one dead man missing a head and began firing at the creature. It saw me, screamed and charged. I stood my ground firing. Two men jumped up in front of me and began firing at it as well. The creature waded through them, slashing and snapping. Their mutilated bodies added to the pools of blood. The bullets weren’t killing the creature but so many of them striking home were weakening it. Before it reached me, it stopped, looked around and flew onto the overhead walkway. I was not going to let it get away again. I slung the M-16 over my shoulder and climbed up after it.
We faced each other from opposite ends of the walkway like Wild West gunfighters though I’m sure Zane Grey had never imaged a plot quite like this. The creature spoke.
“I have watched you, human; let you savor your respite. Now, you will die. Your blood will please me.”
I raised the M-16 and aimed at it. “Your blood sucking days are over.” I fired. The bullets penetrated its flesh. I saw yellow spots of blood appear, but they did not penetrate deeply enough to kill it. It staggered backwards as I fired until the clip was empty. Then I pulled out my .45 and kept firing. The creature crouched and folded its wings over its body to protect itself. When I ran out of bullets, I picked up a steel pipe about four feet long I found laying on the walkway and ran at it. The creature rose as I swung. I slammed the pipe against the side of its head but it had little effect. It grabbed the other end of the pipe and shoved me backwards with little effort. I fell and rolled halfway off the walkway. As I struggled to crawl back up, the creature charged. I looked down and saw a demolished pallet of marijuana bales below me. I let go. The broken bales of pot broke my fall. I rolled off and shoved a fresh clip in my .45.
Before the creature could attack, the DEA burst into the warehouse, firing smoke canisters and tossing stun grenades. The creature had already taken most of the fight out of the remaining gang members. Six of them lay in pools of blood. Three more cowered beneath vans. They offered the heavily armed DEA agents little resistance. I saw Chuey headed toward a side door. I ignored the creature and ran after him.
“Chuey!” I yelled. He turned and fired. I ducked but didn’t return fire. I wanted him alive. He started to fire again; then froze. A look of abject horror spread over his face as he went pale.
“Madre de Dios!” he yelled and began firing not at me but at a point over my head. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the creature coming at me. I fell to the floor and rolled under a van. The creature continued its power dive and landed on Chuey. They crashed into the wall hard enough to bend the steel siding. Chuey continued to scream and fire even though he was aiming at the sky. The creature raised a taloned wing and brought it down repeatedly in the center of Chuey’s chest, stopping Chuey’s frenzied screams with one last gurgle. It glanced back at me with rage in its blood red eyes just as two dozen uniformed DEA agents stopped running and stood staring at the creature in disbelief. The moment passed and they began firing. The creature had had enough. It screamed once and leaped straight into the air, flew to the ceiling and exited through a skylight. Broken glass showered the stunned DEA agents.
I heaved a sigh of relief and crawled from beneath the van. Ten guns immediately pointed in my direction. I slowly pulled out my badge and showed it to one of the agents.
“What the hell was that thing?” he stammered, eyeing the roof more than my ID.
I shook my head. “It’s a long story. Ask your boss.” I walked over to Chuey. His chest was open from throat to crotch, his internal organs confetti. “I wanted you alive,” I muttered.
“I wanted all of them alive.”
I turned and faced Lieutenant Ray Escobar, the agent in charge of the operation.
“What the hell were you doing, Hardin? My men scoped you on the conveyor. When all hell broke loose, we had to move in early.”
I pointed to Chuey’s body. “I was after him. The Chupacabra had plans of its own.”
He stared at me a moment. “You mean that the rumors I heard about this thing were true?”
“You saw it,” I stated the obvious.
“Yeah, but I don’t believe it. We must have fired fifty rounds into that thing and it flew off like it didn’t even bother it.”
I nodded. “That’s what I’ve been up against.”
“Jesus,” he mumbled and shook his head. He looked around the warehouse at the carnage. The live gang members were standing in shock as they stared at the mutilated remains of their brothers. “My boss is going to want your ass for screwing up this operation.”
I pointed to the white vans, one still burning. “In about fifteen minutes you were going to have an armada on your hands. You wouldn’t have been able to stop all of these trucks. I sent you a signal.”
He smiled. “Yeah, some signal. You cost the cartel about half a million dollars in that little bonfire.”
“They can bill me later.”
He got serious. “Look, my boss is going to come down on your boss and you’re going to be caught in the middle. I’ll do what I can from my end but my ass is in the sling with yours. We got what we came for even if it was a bit messy. This creature …” He eyed the roof. “Is there anything I can do?”
“I need some real firepower. It took a .60 caliber to even injure this thing and it doesn’t stay injured long.” Smitty was going to be very upset about the loss of his Pfeifer but the captain had it under lock and key. I felt naked with just my .45.
He crossed himself. “I’m Catholic. I’ve seen these things on church roofs all my life, this gargoyle or Chupacabra, but I never believed. I think maybe I’ll say a few more prayers this Sunday. I’ll get you whatever you need – grenades, Semtex, machine guns … hell, I’ve even got an elephant gun we confiscated from a dealer.”
My eyes lit up. “I’ll take the elephant gun and some ammo and a few grenades. I’d love the Semtex but my captain wouldn’t like me blowing up half the city. He’s already pissed about the monastery.”
Escobar smiled. “Maybe I can come up with something.” He looked over at two agents putting out the burning van with fire extinguishers. They wore masks to keep from breathing in the drug-laden smoke. “You made a good start tonight.”
Maybe I was getting high from the burning pot or the coke in the air, but I was feeling good. The creature was still around and I knew it would come after me again. I just needed to be somewhere no one else would get hurt when we confronted one another, hopefully for the last time.
17
Escobar proved good for his word. His crew had made videos of the drug bust operation. The film was grainy, but his boss could not argue the existence of the Chupacabra. This kept most of the heat off me for my second deliberate act of arson. He also made good his offer of help. Later that day, I received a package containing two magnesium flares and a box of .50 caliber slugs. One other item piqued my interest. Escobar had included a small explosive charge with a timer, the kind of device the DEA used to
blow open locked doors. It came with strip of sticky tape – pull off the paper, slap it on the door and Bang! A longer, separate box contained the elephant gun, a .460 Wetherby.
The elephant rifle was double-barreled, heavy and long. Someone had lovingly cared for it over the years. The wooden stock shone bright with periodic polishing and the barrel gleamed. It smelled of gun oil. I wondered how a drug lord had come by such a fine weapon. At some point in its history, it had been ‘wildcatted’, or re-bored, to accept the larger .50 caliber slug for more stopping power. I had ideas for it. I hope Escobar forgave me. I took it downstairs to the shop and cut down the barrel to twenty inches. This reduced the weight but also the accuracy at a distance but I could live with the compromise. I had to be close to the creature to be sure of a kill shot. The recoil would be damaging, but I could endure that also. My right shoulder was back in good working order, if a little scarred.
I chose the drug warehouse by the bay as the site of my OK Corral. It was open, away from innocent bystanders and the creature knew where it was. I hoped that I would be playing the part of Wyatt Earp and not that of one of the Clantons. As I drove Lew’s SUV, (I still thought of it as Lew’s even though I owned it now) I figured the creature was watching me. If he had followed me there before, odds were he would again. I brought a pillow and blanket with me so I could sleep in the Explorer. I also packed a cooler with beer, water and sandwich meat. I considered using the loft office, but it had only one exit and I didn’t want the creature to trap me in a corner.
The DEA had made a thorough sweep of the place, removing the shipping container and the vans, including the one I had torched. There were no bodies but bloodstains marred the dirty concrete floors. I looked at the spot where Chuey had died and smiled. It had been a fitting death. The stench of death still lingered in the air, unmasked by the acrid odor of burnt rubber and metal. It was unpleasant but I could live with it. To feel safe while I slept, I installed four motion detectors around the building set for larger objects. I didn’t want to be awakened all night by rats or pigeons setting off the alarm.
I settled down for what might be a long wait.
The first day and night proved uneventful. I whiled away the time reading and playing solitaire. My cell phone had an app that I could use to download games, but I was too old school for that. I barely used it for calls. I walked around the warehouse, memorizing every detail. I wanted to be able to move around in the dark as well as I could in the daylight. I couldn’t give the creature any advantages. Ripping out the power lines would be no trick for it.
Day two I received the call I had been dreading. A seventh girl was missing. Blood and other evidence at the scene indicated my gray friend back at his old habits. The girl, Amy Mays, a twenty-year old flight attendant, was reported missing when her roommate, another flight attendant, returned from an overseas flight. The authorities were scouring the streets, but I knew they would never find her.
I had blown my chance to end all of this in the basement of the monastery. The adult had escaped and rather than fleeing the area, was making certain that I knew it was still around, still watching. I was not sure whose need for revenge was greater, the creature’s or mine, but I knew the coming battle would be a bitter one.
The sun set a bloody red that sifted through the dirty windows of the warehouse painting the floors and walls crimson, an ominous sign. I was certain the Chupacabra would show up this night, at least I hoped it did. I was tired of waiting. In my nervousness, I had eaten little the last two days and the hunger pains were beginning to get my attention. I sat down for a dinner of a roast beef sandwich with horseradish mayo, a bag of chips and a cold beer – not my idea of a last supper but it was all I had. I would have preferred meatloaf with garlic mashed potatoes and brown gravy like they serve at my favorite diner, maybe with a side of green beans, comfort food, food to soothe the troubled soul.
And my soul was troubled. Somewhere along the way, I had passed that thin line between cop and vigilante. If the creature came to me and offered itself up for arrest, repentant of its former life of crime, I would not hesitate to kill it. Beast or intelligent creature, it made no difference to me. It was evil incarnate and had survived in this world too long.
Waiting was difficult. I am not a patient man. I loathe doctor and dentist offices because of the waiting room. Even a long line at a fast food restaurant pisses me off. Sitting and waiting for the Chupacabra to return was more difficult than any stakeout I had endured. I kept the lights off, allowing my eyes to grow accustomed to the dark. Sitting and listening, each groan of the building, each scurrying rat drew my full attention. I passed the time by reviewing all of my past mistakes, which made an alarmingly large list. I couldn’t change the past but I made a quiet vow not to repeat it. Finally, trusting to my alarms, I allowed myself to doze.
A loud, persistent hammering at the door awoke me a few hours later. Certain that the Chupacabra would not deign to knock, I turned off the alarm and I slid the door open, curious to see my visitor. To my astonishment, Joria stood there, a hesitant smile on her face, as beautiful as ever. Torn between my desire to grab her and hug her and slapping her, I did neither. I simply stood and stared.
“Come in,” I offered after a few moments hesitation. I slid the door closed after she entered. She stood looking around the warehouse, avoiding me. I walked over and switched on the lights. She wore clean clothes, looking no worse for wear after her close encounter with death. “We’ve been looking for you.”
She nodded. “Yes, I know. I didn’t want to be found.”
As I stood facing her, I still felt the immense attraction she had on me, only slightly abated by her sudden disappearance. “You could have called to let me know you were still alive. I was worried.”
She frowned. “I couldn’t. They are tapping your phone.”
“The Feds? Who are they?”
“They are called Section One, a special unit of your Homeland Security. They are tasked with locating and capturing the Chupacabra.”
I nodded. I had suspected something like that. Suddenly, my raw emotions burst upon me. “You used me to try to capture it,” I shot at her.
“I, I had to. I had to capture it before Section One succeeded. I would study it. They would use it.”
“You’ve dealt with them before?”
“Once, in Baltimore. One of their agents died. They suspected me.”
“Why?”
“He was following me when the Chupacabra killed him. A friend warned me they wanted to pick me up and I fled the city.”
“You’ve been lying to me.”
She took a step toward me, reaching for me with one hand. “I’ve been withholding information. I wasn’t sure how far I could trust you.” She touched my hand. “I was not lying about my feelings for you.”
I sighed. “I wish I could believe that.”
She leaned into me, her body pressing against mine and my arms wrapped around her of their own accord. “Believe me.”
“Believing is difficult for me. I can’t ignore the lies.”
Her head shook against my chest. “No more lies.”
As my hand caressed her shoulder, I remembered her scars. “Those scars on your shoulder – the creature made those didn’t it?”
She pulled back, looked up at me and nodded slowly. “Yes. Many years ago. I sought it out. It almost killed me but I spoke with it, explained my interest in it.”
“And,” I prompted when she stopped.
She shrugged. “It was curious. It told me of its history, what it thought of humans. Then it let me go.”
A light went off. “That’s why it recognized you when we tried to capture it. You knew it would.” I remembered the shredded net in the basement maze. “You knew a net would never hold it. Why the farce?” My mind was in turmoil, my thoughts pelting me like hail in a storm. What had been lies and what had been real?
“I suspected it would recognize me, but it has been a long time. I, I wanted to
see it again.”
“Great!” I barked at her, my anger building, not at her actions but at my stupidity. “You wanted to see an old friend while I sweated it out on that fire escape hoping to kill the damn thing.”
“I meant no harm.”
“Six women are dead,” I shouted. “My friend is dead. You could have prevented at least some of them from dying if you had simply some clean from the beginning. Your admiration for this thing has cost lives.” I angrily brushed my hand through my hair. “It killed your father, for Christ’s sake,” I reminded her.
She turned away, lowered her head and began to sob softly. In spite of everything, all the lies, I wanted to reach out and comfort her, but I was still enough of a cop to feel betrayed by her actions and enough of a man to resent her using me.
“What are you going to do?” I asked, trying to smother my anger and let some of my concern show in my voice.
When she turned back to face me, her eyes were red and tear-limned. “I want to help you kill it. I realize how foolish I have been. I know it, its habits. Together, we can stop it.”
My heart skipped a beat. Could I dare trust her again? My cop instincts said no, but my heart said yes. My heart won.
“It’s coming for me,” I said. “I feel it.”
“Yes, it will. You killed its young. It will want revenge. No more games.”
“That’s fine with me,” I growled. “I’m ready.”
I reset the alarm and turned off the lights. I walked Joria to my SUV. Inside, by the light of the dashboard, I studied her face. It seemed harsher than I remembered, maybe thinner. She looked weary.
“Where have you been?”
She sighed. “I checked into a cheap motel at the edge of town under an alias. I paid cash so the clerk asked no questions. I’ve been sitting, watching the news and listening to whores, drunks and crying babies.” She chuckled. “I haven’t slept much.”
