"As I said before to Senor Cawdor, there had been no reason. Our livestock was being attacked, but the occasional lost chicken or goat was an acceptable loss. Grupo, he stayed up night after night, his weapon held between his legs as he hid under a pile of straw and watched intently in his coop for the creature who had been killing his poultry."
"What happened?"
"One night, Grupo found his murderer," Soto continued, "and fell prey to the beast himself. His son found him the next morning, soon after sunrise, when he ventured out to collect the morning eggs. Like the other animals, his father had two puncture wounds on his neck. All of the blood had been drained from his body."
"Grupo was the first. Many now think the chu-pacabras had been content with the blood of animals, until tasting the life fluid of man," Jorge added.
"Uh-huh." Ryan grunted.
"You do not believe me?"
"Didn't say that. Seen enough in my time not to discount what anybody tells me, till I check the situation out for myself. You want to tell me mutie fruit bats or blood-sucking earthworms or even talking palm trees are running around Puerto Rico and tearing up the neighborhood, fine. I'll take your word for it, but still want to see some proof."
"As do I," Mildred added, having rejoined the gathering.
"Proof," the muscular man snorted, working his cheeks and coming up with a glob of saliva to spit it disgustedly. "You want proof, visit the cemetery. Ask for your proof from the recently departed dead."
"Yes," Mildred said, stepping forward with a frown. "Let's do that."
No MATTER HOW MUCH death she had been forced to witness in the dark future world she'd been awakened from cryo sleep to find herself thrust into, Dr. Mildred Wyeth had never been able to numb herself to the heartbreaking sight of a dead child.
She found the chosen site where the little girl had been placed in repose to be one of infinite sadness, since in life, in another time, this very same sanctuary would have been a place of learning and security for a child. Now, alone as only the dead can be, the girl rested under a threadbare sheet on a long wooden table, inert and eternally still. The upcoming funeral and burial services were planned for the next day.
Unlike many children, Mildred had never feared or dreaded going to school. The locker-lined hallways of academia served as order against the chaos of her life, and gave off light against the darkness of ignorance and fear. Born too late to experience the insult of segregation, she'd always thought of school as her second home, and after her father's brutal murder by Klansmen-an act in itself an aberrant throwback of a hate crime that she'd never been able to fully erase from her mind-Mildred had come to rely on the educational system more and more as her primary residence as she grew older.
"That Mildred...always got her nose in a book," one of her two aunts was always saying, even after she'd graduated from high school and entered into college, finding a new home and leaving behind the old shell. What would those very same two aunts now have to say regarding her current life-style?
Mildred sighed. These days, she was getting entirely too much in the way of exercise, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd sat and read a good novel from cover to cover.
Besides, there were no more schools, except for the few private affairs such as the Brody School where Ryan had sent Dean. Mildred turned away from the dead girl and walked over to the boarded-up windows along the side of the classroom. She peered out across the overgrown schoolyard at the remains of the playground. She imagined the skeletal jungle gym out back hadn't been touched by innocent hands in many years.
Reaching down, she took the hand of the dead girl and was stunned to discover it was still flexible. Rigor mortis hadn't begun to set in, even though the flesh was cold.
"How long did you say she has been dead?" she asked Soto.
The short Puerto Rican managed to twist his face into an even more morose expression. "Since three nights ago."
Mildred frowned as she flexed the fingers of the child's hand with ease. "The body...there's no stiffness."
"I know. That is how we can always tell a true victim of the chupacabras. You might wait a handful of days, and still little Rosa would not stiffen, her body still limp even in death."
Mildred frowned. "The blood," she said softly.
"Que?"
"The absence of rigor mortis must be related to the blood loss. Some sort of secretion given off by the chupacabras during its...feeding." Mildred suddenly felt completely helpless. "I could try and do an analysis, but without the proper instruments and laboratory equipment, my hands are tied. Dammit."
"Now do you believe?"
"Let's just say I'm leaning closer to your side."
"I'll accept that as a yes."
"Why here? Why a school as a storage spot for a corpse?"
"This is a safe place. Many live here."
"No, what I meant was why keep her body in a school and not in a church?" the woman demanded. She was by no means an expert, but she'd always understood most Puerto Ricans to be both deeply religious and firmly Catholic. She knew many of the social customs and mores had disappeared after the arrival of skydark, but from what she'd observed of this community, the men and women still held the concept of God close to their bosoms.
Soto took off his battered straw hat and sheepishly ran his fingers through his lank black hair. "The child...she is unholy," he said in a halting voice.
"What?"
"The chupacabras's bite has left her unclean. Any mourning will have to take place outside the church."
Mildred felt her posture tighten as she struggled to contain any outburst. "You believe that crap? Evil or not, the chupacabras is definitely of this earth."
"What I believe does not matter. The community believes, her own mother believes, and their wishes override my own."
Mildred continued her examination of the body. There were twin puncture marks at the front of Rosa's fragile neck, on line with the jugular vein. The tiny wounds were perfect, and almost seemed to have been cauterized. There was no evidence of the usual tearing or mauling that the fangs of a normal predator would have left behind in the child's flesh.
"Enough. I need some air," the physician finally said, walking out of the classroom, out of the school, and onto the playground.
"You have examined the body." Jorge looked down at Mildred who sat and swayed in an old metal child's swing.
"I have."
"And...?"
"And I have to say there are oddities here I can't explain," Mildred admitted.
"Such as the chupacabras's bite and the condition of the body."
"That's right."
"My ancestors, they also battled El Chupacabras," Jorge said easily. "Distant relatives have told me the stories of those who came before, who shared my name and blood."
"Yet, these bastards didn't start giving you hell now until a few years ago."
"That is true, yes."
"Have you ever wondered what triggered their reappearance?"
"There have been some terrible storms to sweep the island. Perhaps a door-a passageway into our world-was blown open, allowing them access to Puerto Rico once more."
"And you want Ryan to lead an expedition to close this 'door.'"
"Close it? I hope with his help to nail it shut and melt the hinges," Jorge replied.
"All we have is your word on what has been happening here."
"My word is my word. Soto and me, we do not lie. Question others here in Old San Juan. They will tell you."
"Oh, I have. I talked with the one person I could get to speak to me. She wouldn't even say the word chupacabras for fear of bringing one swooping down on her head, but she had a high opinion of you. Not so much of Soto. She thinks he is slightly mad."
"Aren't we all, senorital Aren't we all?"
THE GROUP OF SEVEN FRIENDS gathered that night in the back garden of El Morro, standing and sitting among the lush flowers and bushes. The sky above San Juan Bay was as clear as any the compani
ons had ever seen before and the stars looked down on them impassively, watching, waiting, their starlight having traveled for millions of miles to this last point, burning in time for an eternity over their heads.
"There's no getting past what's been said and what's been shown to us. There are some kind of mutie killers around here. Jamaisvous isn't worried. He's hiding up here in his own little world, safe in a fortress. The native Puerto Ricans-the ones still alive in the city and the villes around here-they aren't so lucky," Ryan said.
Krysty picked up the discussion. "Soto said the chupacabras started giving them problems about six months after Silas Jamaisvous appeared out of nowhere. They went to the new arrival to ask for help, since Jamaisvous had previously offered food and supplies to any men wanting to work in exchange for assistance."
"Assistance?" Mildred asked. "I must've missed that part."
Ryan gave the woman a look of grim amusement. "He needed strong backs to do some heavy lifting. Needed wags for transport. Ended up using some gas-powered trucks and-"
The sound of leisurely footsteps alerted them, and they turned their heads to see Jamaisvous stepping down the small maze of steps and into the garden. He was alone, although Ryan had spied movement farther up the walk, indicating that one of the sec men who always seemed to dog the doctor's heels was close at hand if needed. "Good evening, all."
"Thanks for the fine meal," J.B. said. "Really appreciated it."
"You are more than welcome, Mr. Dix," Jamaisvous replied, sipping from one of the orange mugs of coffee. "Still, I couldn't help but overhear you talking as I approached."
"Eavesdropping, Silas?" Ryan asked easily.
"If you are curious about my past, Ryan Cawdor, why don't you just ask?" the elegantly dressed man replied. "I have tried to be as open and honest with you as I know how."
"Then consider this a request."
"Very well, then. What would you like to know?"
"Funny thing, Silas," Ryan said in a dry voice that indicated he didn't find a single thing amusing about what he was going to say. "I've been here in Old San Juan for three days now, and I can't seem to find any of the lucky bastards who got to help you cart that mat trans out of the wilderness and into this stone shell of a fortress."
"I didn't know you were looking for any of the 'lucky bastards,' Mr. Cawdor."
"I wasn't, really. Just making conversation with the locals. One of them said the boys who gave you a hand vanished once you made this overblown tomb your home."
"Vanished? My, that is amusing. My legend continues to grow within the walls of Old San Juan. Evil white man comes to the village. If you think for a moment, I'm sure you'd become aware that most of the men who assisted me now live here within El Morro's walls, serving as my gardeners or security force. And I did not 'cart a mat trans.' I merely ab- sconded with a few key components and used them in the modification of the gateway hidden here in the fortress."
"Two gateways?" Dean asked, wrinkling his nose. "Weren't they pretty close together?"
"Not so unusual, my boy. The other one was used primarily for advanced experiments in time trawling-a prototype facility. The gateway located here in El Morro was for nothing more than quick transportation. Obviously, despite its formidable exterior and historical reputation, El Morro is no hidden redoubt or modern military installation."
"Seems like a stupe move, and you don't strike me as a stupe," Ryan noted. "Why not just stay in the redoubt?"
"If fate had been more kind, I would have. However, once I had come out of cryo sleep, I discovered the true reason my hibernation had been interrupted, and it had nothing to do with a faulty timer. The nuclear generator at the lowest level was beginning to malfunction, causing power fluctuations to spike and burn out all through the facility."
Ryan caught Mildred's eye. The woman gave an almost imperceptible shrug. The story did appear to be truthful, at least on the surface.
"Since my reaction to this bleak world after nuclear exchange was the same as your own Dr. Tanner's, I decided after research to make the attempt to go back in time before the conflict. Since Puerto Rico seemed to be a chosen spot for advanced trawling attempts-or rather, it would have been had war not broken out when it did-why not take advantage? To do so, I needed to utilize a matter-transfer device for my experiments. However, I needed a steady source of power I could rely on without interruption. I did attempt a few transports while housed in the redoubt and all of them ended badly from a lack of necessary energy."
"You look okay to me."
Jamaisvous grinned. "I was not fool enough to climb inside the gateway myself. I used objects. Sent them out and brought them back. The drain of power required to activate the mat-trans unit was too much for the weakened nuclear generator, so I had to stop. Within a month's time, I realized another solution would be needed. Knowing of the second gateway, I decided to avail myself of it."
"But, how?" Ryan pressed. "How did you know?"
"Know what?"
"About the second mat-trans unit? How did you know it was in El Morro? Why even suspect Puerto Rico to have more than one? Like Dean said, two in close proximity is unusual."
Jamaisvous frowned, as if annoyed by the question. Finally he said, "When my own cryogenic chamber malfunctioned and I was brought out of cryo sleep, I was afraid, perplexed. The redoubt I found myself in was like nothing I had ever seen before, especially once I realized some of my own theories regarding matter transfer were in fact in use. I had no concept of shadowy government groups be- yond what I'd read in fiction or saw on television. The late nineties were a hotbed of stories for conspiracy buffs."
"So how do you know so much?" Mildred asked.
"Luckily, Dr. Wyeth, when I awoke, my mind was intact. Unlike yourself, there was no one waiting to assist in my adjustment. Still, I was and am, an intelligent man. I read, and in my research of the redoubt, I discovered many secrets within that cavernous hole. The curious case of Dr. Theophilus Algernon Tanner, for one. Secret codes, for another, which allowed me to travel from one sealed sector to another. And also, I discovered the existence of a second mat-trans unit-one close at hand, since I also read about my current home."
"You've been in other redoubts?" Krysty asked.
"Briefly, yes. I didn't linger."
"Well, I've been hi more redoubts than I can count on my fingers and toes, and none had a book of operating instructions lying on the floor," Ryan said. "Seems standard operating procedure called for carting out all sensitive data, and if it couldn't be taken out manually, it was destroyed on the premises."
Jamaisvous sighed. "Not here, Ryan. Not in the Puerto Rican redoubt. Here, files remained, and a most fascinating compact disc listing gateways and their locations, at least, all of the ones in the former United States and its close, personal allies."
Ryan dwelled on the implications of what Jamais- vous was saying. Such a guide book could prove invaluable, allowing quick transport across the globe.
"Now, if you have any other concerns, please relate them."
"You know anything about these goatsuckers that have been killing off livestock down in Old San Juan?"
Jamaisvous gave Ryan a look of amused disbelief. "You must be kidding me. The chupacabras myth? Legend, Ryan. The Puerto Ricans have been bothered by these blood-sucking monsters for years. Goats. Sheep. Pigs. Any and all small animals that end up dead under mysterious circumstances get blamed on the bad chupacabras."
"More than some goats these days. They've started going for people."
"People?"
"It's true," Mildred said. "I've seen one of the bodies myself. Little girl."
"I am sorry to hear of any loss of life, but what can I hope to do?"
"Something's out there killing people," Ryan said. "Since there seems to be a lack of experienced sec men in Old San Juan, or even men who know which is the proper business end of a blaster, I agreed to look into this matter at least. However, my signing on didn't mean the rest of you have to follow
suit. This isn't anything to do with us-at least, not at this point."
"I go where you go, Dad," Dean said.
"Me too. I'm already climbing the walls of this gussied-up mausoleum. You know I hate standing still," J.B. added.
"Me, too, lover," Krysty added.
"I go. Something do," Jak said. "Get bored here."
Doc had been looking hesitant, but apparently came to a decision. "Ryan, I...I fear I must decline. I am needed to assist Dr. Jamaisvous in some delicate procedures."
"No need to apologize, Doc. You've got your own road to follow."
"I also have a request," their host said. "I wish Dr. Wyeth to remain behind as well. According to Dr. Tanner, she also has a practical working theory of the mat-trans gateways. Plus, an experienced third hand could prove useful in reaching our eventual goal."
James Axler - Deathlands 43 - Dark Emblem Page 14
