The Chupacabra

by Jean Flitcroft

  When Vanessa looked up again, she caught a pair of dark eyes in the front mirror watching her. She knew at once that Armado must have seen her making faces at Nikki, but she couldn’t read his expression. Being caught like that made her temper flare, and she was tempted to tell him to keep his eyes on the road in the future. But a shout from outside broke their gaze, and the truck skidded to a halt.

  Vanessa was horrified. It was the same mean face that had scared her at the kitchen window. Now that face was coming through the open car window, right at her. Vanessa reacted instantly, clutching Nikki’s hand and shrinking back into her seat.

  She prayed feverishly that he wouldn’t get into the car. If he did, she would have to get out, and that would be very difficult to explain.

  His long hair was tied back this time, but his dead eyes, oversized mouth, and disgusting teeth were the same. He smiled a cruel smile. He rested his long, skinny arms along the open window and leaned in. Vanessa looked away.

  “Hey, Pablo. ¿Necesita usted un aventón? Need a lift?” Armado asked.

  They spoke for no more than twenty seconds, but to Vanessa it was agony. She held her breath, and the skin on her arms and neck prickled.

  Pull yourself together, she told herself sternly. The man was ugly and looked threatening, but he had done nothing except stare through a couple of windows. He was definitely creepy, but that wasn’t exactly a crime. Vanessa looked around at everybody else. They didn’t seem bothered.

  Armado finally put his foot on the accelerator and sped off without Pablo. Vanessa’s relief was so strong that she slumped back in her seat and closed her eyes.

  “What’s wrong, Vanessa?” Nikki asked.

  Joseph turned in his seat, his large, ruddy face full of concern.

  “OK, Vanessa?”

  Vanessa smiled at him, annoyed with herself at her overreaction. What on earth was the matter with her?

  “Yes, I’m fine, honestly. I just got dust in my eye, that’s all,” she said, rubbing her face to make sure that any suspicion of tears was removed.

  Armado’s eyes were trained on her once more in the mirror. How many pairs of eyes did he have, and did they always have to be watching her? She swallowed. The dryness of her throat made it difficult, but she had to ask.

  “Who was that, Joseph?”

  “Oh, that’s Pablo, one of the oldest ranch hands. He’s lived here for over thirty years.”

  “Is he the one you said was good with horses, Armado?” Vanessa lifted her eyes to look in the mirror and was unreasonably disappointed that Armado was watching the road now.

  “No, that is Cesar. Pablo is much better with machinery than animals,” Armado replied with a strange laugh.

  “How do—” Vanessa started but then stopped as the car lurched violently, catapulting the girls along the back seat to one side and summoning a chorus of screeches. The lurch out of the large pothole was equally violent, the wheels spinning furiously as the car found its way back onto the track.

  “Muy bien. Well done, me boyo.” Joseph tapped his son proudly on the shoulder as Armado drove on calmly.

  Vanessa and Nikki could not explain to Carmen quite why they found Joseph’s remarks so funny. But the odd mix of Mexican and Irish struck them as hilarious, and they dissolved into a heap of giggles in the back seat.

  For the moment, Pablo was entirely forgotten.

  CHAPTER 13

  Jaime Cruz, a 21-year-old shepherd from Irapuato, Guanajuato, saw the strange beast several times between Ejido Curva de Juan Sánchez and the Colinas de Santiago district. It was no ordinary animal, he said, and was capable of extremely high leaps.

  Once they reached the main road and were off the Martinez property, Joseph took over the driving. He drove much more slowly than Armado and didn’t look in the rearview mirror at all.

  The town of Guanajuato was wedged in the very bottom of a deep ravine, like a small cherry stuck at the bottom of an ice-cream sundae glass. It was backed by huge, barren mountains and smooth, high cliffs which entirely dwarfed the town. The road wiggled its way down into the center, going underground for many miles.

  The roads were narrow and busy, and their progress slow. It was hot in the car. The open windows were the only air-conditioning, and Vanessa found that her legs had stuck to the plastic seats. Why hadn’t she worn longer shorts like Carmen or a dress like Nikki? She tried to shift in her seat but found she was stuck fast. It was going to hurt when she tried to separate her skin from it. She hoped it wouldn’t make an embarrassing sound too.

  Finally they reached the town center, and Joseph pulled up in the middle of the road. He turned in his seat, totally unfazed by the chorus of loud horns and beeps that started up from behind and provided the perfect cover for the unsticking of Vanessa’s legs.

  “Mado and I have to go to Don Arias for an hour, so we’ll drop you guys off here and meet you in the Jardín de la Unión. You know where that is, Carmen.” At eleven o’clock in the morning the town was already busy. Groups of very old women sat around on wooden benches. They had string shopping bags and were huddled in groups, talking, heads bent close. Vanessa could almost imagine the cauldron bubbling between them.

  Vanessa spotted the sign first: “Se vende helado.” Ice cream for sale. Already too hot, they stopped in front of the extraordinary display of ice cream flavors that stretched the width of the glass-fronted shop. In Dublin, ice cream either meant a soft-serve cone from Teddy’s on the seafront in Sandycove or a bar from the bottom of a freezer in the local shop. Here vats of different flavors were lined up side by side in endless rows. Carmen translated the flavors—squashed raspberry, vanilla with chips of Brazil nut, guava and sour cream, crushed mango with spicy ginger.

  The girls chose their ice creams and sat down under an umbrella at the wooden table and chairs in front of the shop. Vanessa leaned back, nibbling at her orange and dark chocolate cone while Carmen and Nikki chatted away, their words drifting by her on the warm air.

  Coming up a side alley onto the plaza, a group of guitar players dressed in velvet breeches were trailed by spectators. They were all singing.

  More fancy dress, thought Vanessa, remembering the bird woman at the airport. She had a beak. But of course it was a mask. It must have been.

  “Callejoneadas.” Carmen laughed.

  “What’s that?” asked Vanessa. “The funny clothes they are wearing?”

  “No,” said Carmen. “It is having a street party. Calle means alleyway, see?”

  Nikki giggled. “It’s a bit different from Dun Laoghaire or Dundrum, isn’t it, Vanessa?’

  It was Carmen who answered. “Is it? I’d love to visit Ireland. I’d love to see Europe: Paris, Rome, Barcelona,” she said with longing. “I’m going to go to university in Spain, if Mama will let me.”

  “What will you study?” Vanessa looked at Carmen’s slim hands and perfectly groomed nails and compared them to her own short, bitten ones.

  “I have no idea. I just want to live in Europe,” Carmen answered honestly. “Mama will probably not let me go, though.”

  “Oh, difficult parents can be won over if you want something enough,” Vanessa tried to reassure her. Her dad was not a pushover, but Frida was much tougher. Vanessa secretly wondered about the possibility of changing Frida’s mind about anything at all.

  At noon, as arranged, they met Armado at the corner of the square.

  “Why don’t we show them Callejon del Beso, Armado?” Carmen suggested.

  “Calle what?” said Vanessa. “An alleyway?”

  “Alley of the kiss,” said Carmen, kissing the air. “It brings good luck to kiss your beloved there. Maybe you could try it out, Vanessa—you and Armado.”

  “Shut up, Carmen,” muttered Armado. Vanessa’s face was on fire.

  “But we always bring guests there, Armado,” Carmen blundered on. “It’s very famous.”

  Nikki giggled at the idea of a street for kissing in, but Vanessa just wished they would all shut up ab
out it.

  “I think Vanessa and Nikki might prefer to go to the museum, Carmen.”

  A museum? The girls had quite fancied finding a market and doing a bit of shopping.

  “No, Mado, por favor, no me gusta,” Carmen pleaded. “I hate that place.”

  Vanessa looked at her in surprise. What kind of a museum would be that bad?

  CHAPTER 14

  The Mummy Museum is a famous attraction in Guanajuato. Fifty-nine mummies that were dug up in the late 1800s are on display there. There are men, women and children, some of them still in original dress with their hair and teeth intact. It is the largest collection of mummies anywhere in the Western Hemisphere.

  “Museo de las Momias is so interesting,” Armado argued. “They are real mummies, Vanessa. I think you would love it.”

  “I thought you only got mummies in Egypt,” Vanessa said.

  “Well, they are a different kind of mummy, perhaps; not man-made. They are natural, so to speak. Two hundred years ago there was not enough room for all the dead bodies, you see, so they dug up the old ones to make space. But the bodies had not become skeletons. They still have their hair, teeth, clothes …”

  “How come?” asked Vanessa.

  “Some people think it is witchcraft.” Armado shrugged.

  “And others?” Vanessa prompted him.

  “Others think it is maybe strange soil conditions here. Maybe the arsenic that is naturally in the ground of the silver mines preserves the bodies.”

  “A lot more likely,” Vanessa said. “It sounds like fun to me.” And it was certainly better than standing, mortified, in the kissing alley!

  ••

  Carmen grabbed hold of Nikki’s hand as they joined the queue outside the museum. There were street sellers everywhere. Women and children crouching on the ground held up boxes of chewing gum, trays with carved wooden turtles, fake Ralph Lauren sunglasses and Rolex watches.

  A young girl about her own age approached Vanessa and smiled eagerly at her.

  “Ochenta pesos,” she said brightly, showing a small turtle sitting in the center of her small palm. She had brilliant white teeth and a mischievous face, and Vanessa liked her instantly.

  Eighty pesos was roughly five euro, she calculated. The turtle was perfect for Ronan. But before she could hand the money over, Carmen began a heated discussion with the young girl. Try as she might, Vanessa could not understand a word being said. They argued for what seemed like an age before Carmen stepped back again.

  “Thirty pesos.”

  Vanessa, slightly stunned, handed over a hundred peso note. “Maybe I’ll take two, then. Dos?” she said meekly to the girl, who rewarded her with a huge smile.

  “You are expected to bargain here, Vanessa. You must never accept the first price.” Carmen explained as they walked away.

  “What language did you speak to her, Carmen? It wasn’t Spanish, was it?”

  “An old language, Nahuatl. It was what they spoke before the Spanish came. Some people still speak it. Like Izel and Mama. Armado and I learned a little when we were growing up.”

  “Wow. Impressive!”

  “Not really. Most of our Nahua words are related to cooking. Luckily turtle soup is one of Izel’s favorite recipes,” Carmen said with a smile.

  ••

  At first Vanessa was delighted with the displays of mummified bodies. She smiled to herself, thinking of the small shrunken head that she carried in her backpack.

  Armado translated a plaque: “The first mummy was found in 1865; his name was Dr. Remigio Leroy, a French doctor.”

  Vanessa looked at the dead man, still in his overcoat, his mouth stretched in a gargoyle-style grin.

  “There was also a woman buried alive,” Armado said, and they moved to the next display. She was lying down with her hands clutched in front of her, horror etched in the sinewy remains. Vanessa swallowed hard. The backlighting made the bodies look really eerie. She heard Nikki’s sharp intake of breath.

  “Oh, the poor thing,” Nikki murmured. “What a way to die.”

  Vanessa noticed that Carmen stared off into the distance to avoid looking directly at any of the mummies.

  As the others moved ahead through the crowded museum, Vanessa began to feel a growing sense of unease. Somewhere in the middle of the second room, her heart took off and she found it harder and harder to look at the mummies’ faces. The empty eye sockets were really freaky. In front of her she saw Nikki’s blonde head and Carmen’s dark one bobbing in and out of the crowd. She should catch up to them.

  She looked around for Armado. He was standing in front of a mummy of a young child. As Vanessa approached it, avoiding its eyes, she saw, to her horror, the child’s bony foot slowly turning into an animal’s paw. It was as if a two-ton weight had landed on her chest. The air that was expelled from her came out as a loud groan.

  Vanessa moved away quickly, but she came face to face with another mummy. This time the wizened, gaping mouth became the mouth of a snake, and she saw a black tongue that whipped from side to side.

  Vanessa’s scream was small and choked, and she clamped her hands to her mouth. Trembling, she felt tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She had to get out of here. Where was the exit? She pushed her way toward Nikki and Carmen.

  “Look at this one, Vanessa,” Nikki said as she came up to her. “It’s so sad. A tiny baby who was buried with her mother.”

  Vanessa couldn’t bear to look. She just didn’t know what she might see.

  “Vanessa, you’re not looking,” Nikki persisted.

  If no one else was seeing these things, it must be all in her imagination—and then she could control it, couldn’t she? She forced herself to look.

  Before her eyes, the baby mummy became a tiny monkey clinging to its mother’s arm.

  Vanessa backed away hurriedly. Her legs felt weak, and she dropped down onto one knee. She could hear people talking but not the words. Were they talking about her? She tried to calm herself as she retied her shoelace.

  Somebody touched her shoulder.

  “Are you coming, Vanessa?” Armado had joined them and wanted to move on.

  “Yeah, with you in a minute. You go on.”

  Vanessa’s voice sounded wobbly, and she prayed that he wouldn’t notice. She knelt on her other knee and retied that lace slowly. The shaman’s house had been bad enough; what would he think if she freaked out again?

  Vanessa waited till they had gone ahead and then stood up carefully. Her jelly legs appeared to be holding her weight, although she couldn’t imagine how. Looking neither right nor left, she made her way outside somehow. It was all she could do to lower herself without collapsing on the side of the pavement. She covered her eyes with her hands, but the tears kept coming. After a bit she felt her panic begin to subside. She would have to get her act together before the others came out.

  A slight pressure on one of her hands made her jump, and she jerked upright. Vanessa found herself staring into the face of the young girl who had sold her the turtles not half an hour earlier.

  “Naguaaaaal,” she hissed, pushing something into Vanessa’s hand.

  The girl ran off quickly.

  Vanessa stared at the long, gray … tooth that had been pressed into the palm of her hand. What was that word? Nagwaal? Was it the word for tooth in the girl’s language or something? And what on earth was she supposed to do with it?

  Vanessa wiped her tears with the back of her other hand to get a better look at the tooth. It looked like an animal’s canine, certainly way too big to be a human tooth. Maybe she should ask the girl. Vanessa hopped to her feet and looked around for her, but she had long since disappeared into the crowd.

  CHAPTER 15

  Nagual comes from the Nahuatl word for “disguise.” Naguals are people who can shapeshift at night into small animals—typically a dog, coyote, bat or turkey—and suck the blood of their victims.

  Vanessa sat in the back of the jeep fidgeting, her palms and the b
ack of her neck damp with sweat. She hoped that the others would appear soon. She had told Joseph that, like Carmen, she had found the mummies a bit freaky and that was why she had left the museum before the others. Luckily he hadn’t seen her bawling her eyes out on the pavement.

  “Is there an Internet café in Guanajuato?” Vanessa asked now.

  Joseph was in the process of downing a can of Coke in one swallow. He finished it before answering.

  “Yup. Do you need to use it?”

  “That would be great. I promised to send an email to Dad and the boys when I spoke to them the other evening. You don’t have Internet at the ranch?” Vanessa knew the answer already.

  “Not Frida’s thing, really,” Joseph replied breezily.

  “Oh, look, here come the others now.”

  The Internet café was absolutely tiny with no windows. Instead of a door there was just a curtain of beaded strings. How did they lock the shop up at night? Vanessa wondered.

  Luckily there were plenty of terminals available, and the three girls took their seats. Armado had decided to go to the bar with Joseph and meet them back at the truck later.

  The first word she typed into the search engine was nagwaal.

  Above the results list, the question “Do you mean nagual?” prompted her. So that was how you spelled it. She opened up the first item.

  A nagual is a type of brujo, or witch. It is a shape-shifter who can take on the body of an animal. They are the powerful ones in a community, usually evil and greatly feared. Ordinary people can’t necessarily identify naguals in their community, but naguals can recognize each other.

  Vanessa froze. Shapeshifters? Someone turning into something else? Hadn’t she just seen dead bodies turn into animals at the museum? And what about the woman who turned into a bird at the airport?