Wasp Canyon

by Danielle McCrory

  “I’ll make it,” she said. She looked at him in the darkness. “What made you join the party, Moser? I thought you didn’t believe in these things.” She gestured toward the bloody carcass on the stairs.

  “Well, I decided I just had to see this one for myself,” Moser said. “I didn’t think you crazy broads were going to start the party without me, though.”

  Jessica smiled. “Oh, you know us. Always looking for a good time.” She looked up at Claire and smiled.

  “Jess—what about your ankle? I could hear it crunching . . .” Claire trailed off.

  “Well, I’m definitely going to need that surgery now,” Jessica said. “Luckily, I have that doctor appointment already scheduled for Monday.”

  “Not Monday,” Moser said. “Tonight. I’m calling in for an ambulance right now.” He stood up and pulled his phone from his pocket. He spoke briefly on the phone, then hung up. “They’re on their way,” he told Jessica. She nodded.

  Moser scanned the room. How were the paramedics gonna get in here? He went up the foyer steps, carefully stepping around the stinking pile of dead chupacabra, and went up to the cracked front door. He grabbed the lock and tried to jimmy it from side to side.

  “Hey guys?” Claire called from the living room.

  “Yeah?” Moser turned away from the door, still holding the lock in his hand, and looked at the girls in the living room. Jessica was looking expectantly up at Claire.

  “It was just the one chupacabra, right?” Claire asked.

  Moser dropped the lock and took a large step away from the door. “Now, why in the hell would you say something like that?”

  In the darkness of Cameron Jasper’s living room, they all laughed.

  Epilogue

  Jess stood by the tilted wooden post that marked the beginning of the Wasp Canyon Trailhead. The breeze was cold against her cheeks, her breath coming out in white plumes in the morning air. Frost covered the cacti lining the sides of the trail, their spines twinkling in the rays of winter sunlight. The sun had just risen over the mountain crest and the sky was alight with yellows, pinks, and blues. A morning hush covered the landscape, a peaceful silence only the desert knows.

  There were no other cars in the parking lot. Jess arrived early to have the trail to herself. She hoped to be done with her run before the lot began to fill with winter tourists, all wanting to take in the desert’s beauty when the temperatures were mild and the weather forgiving. Only real Tucsonans braved the hiking trails during the summer months. Real Tucsonans, and an occasional Texan with a kind smile and a loaded gun over the fireplace.

  Jess shifted her hips from side to side, twisting her back into a satisfying stretch. Her ribs still ached when she rotated to the left, but her doctors said the pain would lessen over time. The fractured ribs had not punctured her lung, which they said was a miracle in itself.

  Her ankle had been a more difficult recovery. Jess had undergone two surgeries to correct the damage that was done to her left foot and ankle. The first one was on the night she arrived at the hospital, smeared with blood but in good spirits. The CAM boot had actually saved her from amputation—its hard, plastic cover and metal frame absorbing the majority of the damage during the attack. That night they set the broken bones and stitched up the bite wounds. A month later, she had to return for reconstructive surgery to further correct the damage and hopefully allow her to be able to walk again. The physical therapy had been grueling, and the healing slow.

  Five months had passed since the attack when her surgeon finally gave her the approval to begin running again, and only in small doses. She knew small doses well. She knew when half a mile felt like an accomplishment, her thighs quivering and her heart pounding as she tried to push herself that one more tenth of a mile. She knew it would be months before she could run any real distance. She didn’t expect to make it to the top of Wasp Hill this winter—and possibly not even this spring. She probably wouldn’t see the crested saguaro until summer crept in and the temperatures soared. But that was alright with her. It wasn’t the distance that she craved; it was the chance to be out on the trail at all.

  She had almost lost her sanity when her father passed away. She had almost lost her life that fateful morning in Wasp Canyon. And she had nearly lost her foot the night she took on the chupacabra and put a double barrel shotgun to its head. In the end, she had managed to escape with all three—her sanity, her life, and her foot. She doubted she would ever be able to wear a high heel again, but that seemed like a small price to pay.

  Jess resumed her appointments with Dr. Wyatt. After a few bumpy visits—visits where Wyatt spent the bulk of the allotted time reiterating just how sorry she was—Jess and Wyatt were able to resume their productive sessions. They made progress. And Wyatt even stopped pulling on her suit jacket. Within a few months, Wyatt suggested they drop their appointments to twice a month, and then to once a month. Before long the sessions would stop completely. Jess no longer needed assistance to cope with her loss. Her grief, although not gone, had become a manageable thing. She still struggled with it from time to time, but it was no longer eating her alive.

  Carl Moser returned to his regular duties as a detective for the Northwest Police Department. Any scrutiny he received regarding his actions on the night of August 17th dissolved when images of the chupacabra were leaked to the press. Under the new light of this grotesque discovery, he came out a hero for coming to the aid of two young women and for helping vanquish The Beast of Wasp Canyon. He received a medal for his heroism, and Jess and Claire were invited to attend the ceremony.

  The media had a frenzy regarding the discovery of the chupacabra: the stuff of legends. And nightmares. It made national news, and eventually international news. More eyewitnesses came forward, sharing their stories of when they saw a similar beast in their yards in the night. Some of the stories held credence, many did not. Like all things in the news, the stories faded once the novelty wore off. Talk shifted back to political mishaps, celebrity gossip, and various sporting endeavors. It was surprising how quickly people moved on. But moving on was the human condition, and one must do it to survive.

  With time, the truth of the chupacabra began to fade. Eventually it would fade completely, and only be recounted on the animal shows that Carl Moser was no longer afraid to watch. National Geographic, Animal Planet, and The Discovery Channel had a field day with the discovery of this new species—all networks airing special episodes about the mythical beast that turned out to be a creature of flesh and blood. They showed dramatic reenactments of the attacks with actors portraying the Wasp Canyon victims. Much of the episodes were speculation, however, with so little known about the chupacabra itself. Many scientists and zoologists combed through the desert surrounding Wasp Canyon, and eventually ventured down the depths of the canyon itself, however, few found anything worth noting. Any trace of the chupacabra seemed to have been washed away with the monsoon rains.

  Jess’s sneakers scraped on the thin layer of dirt that covered the hard caliche below. It seldom rained during this time of year, and the soil had regained its unforgiving hardness that came with lack of water. Jess inhaled deeply, feeling the freezing air as it filled her lungs. She exhaled and watched the white plume drift up and disappear into the pink sky. She stretched her left ankle, feeling the deep pull of scar tissue that now lived there. She wanted to get back into shape as quickly as her ankle would allow—she had already talked with Moser and was scheduled to begin basic training at the police academy that fall. That gave her several months to ease her ankle back into shape, as well as the rest of her. She remembered the nausea, pounding heart, and shortness of breath she had felt when she first started running, and she knew all of those would come screaming back to her by the time she made it to 0.3 miles. She welcomed it, though. She made it through that agony once, and she could do it again. Hell, she had made it through a lot more than just that.

  Her phone buzzed against her thigh. She unzipped the pocket of her l
eggings and withdrew her cell phone. Her mother’s face was on the screen. Jess shook her head and smiled. Always up with the sun, her mother was.

  “Hi Mom,” Jess said, answering the phone.

  “Good morning, honey! You at the trail yet?” Andrea asked.

  “Yeah, I am. About to get started. Oye, it’s gonna hurt!” Jess adjusted her wool headband. Andrea had knitted it herself and gave it to Jess as a Christmas gift. She insisted that Jess use it on all her winter runs. The mornings were cold and she didn’t want Jess’s ears freezing off while she was out running in the frigid temperatures.

  “Your ankle?” Andrea asked, worry entering her voice.

  “No, no,” Jess said. “I mean the running in general. I’m really out of shape after not being able to walk on my leg for so long.”

  “Ok hon, well please be careful and don’t push too hard.”

  “I promise.” Jess watched the pink fade to orange in the crystal clear sky.

  “Anyway, I called to remind you about your birthday dinner tonight. I already spoke to Claire and she will be arriving at four this afternoon to help set up.”

  “Mom, you don’t have to set anything up,” Jess said, smiling. “It’s just us, you know.”

  “Well, it’s your birthday and birthday girls get balloons. No argument! Besides, it’s not just us. Detective Moser will also be stopping by, remember?”

  Jess laughed. “Ok, ok. Balloons it is. I’m sure Carl just loves balloons!”

  “I’m sure he enjoys them plenty when the occasion calls for it,” Andrea said.

  Jess could feel the warmth of the sun on her face. It was going to be a beautiful day out on the trail. “Absolutely,” she said. She could feel the muscles in her legs twitching. She danced from foot to foot, craving to begin her run. “Anything else, Mom? I’m about to get started.”

  “I think that’s it. Be at my place at five?”

  “You got it.”

  “Oh, and I picked up some of those Fancy Feast Delights that Tofu seems to love. They were on sale. I’ll give them to you tonight so you can take them home. You better tell him they are from me, though!”

  Jess laughed. “Of course, Mom.”

  “Ok, hon. Have a good run. I will see you tonight.”

  “Sounds good. I love you.”

  “Love you too, birthday girl.”

  Jess ended the call and zipped her phone back into her pocket. She looked around the parking lot. Still all hers. She might see a few tourists heading down the trail on her way out, but right now, the desert was hers and hers alone. She bent forward, giving her legs one final stretch. She looked at the sunrise, took in a deep breath, and smiled up at the expanse of sky. She liked to think that, somewhere up there, her father was smiling back.

  Jess focused on the trail ahead. She could feel her muscles aching to begin. She pulled up her left wrist, selected New Program on her QuikFit 3.0, chose Running, and hit Begin. The seconds began ticking away on her watch. Jess took a step forward, glanced up at the orange sky one last time, and began to run.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

  First and foremost, I would like to thank my incredible husband, Ryan McCrory. His encouragement and endless support were paramount to my success in completing my first novel. He has been with me every step of the way, from the day I announced that I wanted to write a book (out of the blue, might I add) all the way to the day of that book’s publication. His unwavering belief in my abilities was what kept me going during times of self-doubt, and I could not have accomplished this goal without him. He even stepped up to be my book editor—and a mighty good one at that. His insightful critiques and well-thought-out suggestions helped to make Wasp Canyon what it is today. I also have him to thank for designing the cover art for this book and for taking my author portraits. Ryan’s support in my writing, and in all aspects of life, has helped get me to where I am today, and for that I am forever grateful.

  I would also like to thank my family, whose support was very much appreciated as I tried to achieve this exciting (and unexpected) goal. They were willing to read my manuscript (typos and all) and provide me with many helpful tips and suggestions. Thank you to my mother, Nancy Dufour, to my father-in-law and mother-in-law, Mike and Betty McCrory, and to my brothers-in-law, Michael McCrory and Randy Ballesteros. I am so thankful to have such an encouraging group of people rooting me on.

  Thank you to my father, Larry Dufour, for passing his love of reading on to me. He will forever be missed, and I hope that he had the opportunity to read my first novel, wherever he may be.

  And finally, thank you to those who were willing to give my book a try. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

  Until next time,

  Danielle McCrory

  About the Author

  Danielle McCrory was born and raised in Tucson, Arizona. She has degrees in Graphic Design and Physical Therapy. Danielle started writing because she believes there are still so many scary stories left untold. Danielle loves horror movies, animals, rainy days, and Halloween. She lives in Tucson with her husband, Ryan McCrory.