“Never going to happen,” huffed Avery.
“New Evidence of the Himalayan Yeti?”
“Old news.”
“Werewolves Versus Vampires?”
“Sounds like a bad movie. Over there — let’s take those.” Avery charged off to the back row of seats.
“Suspicious,” Ziggy whispered as he noticed a short, square woman wearing a necklace that appeared to be made of animal bones before he followed after Avery. The two men seated themselves in the back of the large room. A few minutes later, more than a hundred conference members had joined them in anticipation of the opening remarks. Slowly, a tall, grey-haired, pompous-looking man in a tweed coat approached the podium. Pulling a set of notes from his jacket, he kicked off the event.
“Good day, my fellow monster hunters. My name is Dr. Victor Von Stoopler from zee Austrian Institute of Paranormal Research,” the man said in a heavy German accent. “You’re all most likely familiar with my seminal work regarding zee nature of monsters in history and society.” Ziggy looked at Avery. Avery just shrugged. “Now, I’d like to begin by attempting zee impossible. I’d like to summarize my life’s research in zee next one hundred and twenty minutes in a manner that this conference’s body can digest and comprehend.”
“He’s full of shit,” Avery scoffed.
“You’re, like, one to talk, man.”
“Shut up.”
“You see,” Dr. Von Stoopler began, “zee title of my presentation is ‘Zee Monster as zee Metaphor and Allegory.’ Of course, as you know, we have always lived among zee monster. From Grendel to zee trolls to zee demons and zee elves, monsters are a part of our history. Zee word ‘monster’ is actually derived from zee Latin word monstrum. It means an omen or a warning. It tells us of some great malformation or aberrant occurrence in zee natural world around us. Rational thought is zee safety blanket that reminds us that everything is in order. But outside of our blanket, there is zee mystery and danger. Unspeakable danger. Chilling terror. Abject horror. Put quite simply, zee monster reminds us that zee world is out of order. That is why zee monster is usually grotesque. We create zee monster to explain zee unexplainable that surrounds us. God created all that is good and blessed. How then could God create zee disaster, zee destruction, and zee tremendous suffering and pain in zee world? He didn’t. Zee monster did. Zee monster, if you will, is God’s ultimate ‘get out of jail free’ card,” the doctor chuckled at his own joke. No one else did. “Zee monster provides zee symbolism and imagery we need to explain why for every light, there is darkness. For every act of goodness, there exists an act of evil. Religion refuses to allow us to blame God directly. There must be another explanation.”
“Like, I think he lost me, dude,” Ziggy said to Avery.
“Shut up.”
“Therefore,” Dr. Von Stoopler continued, “when monsters didn’t exist, it was necessary for God to invent them. For example, God invented zee werewolf to explain our uncontrollable primal urges. A convenient answer for our otherwise repressed animalistic instincts, our proclivity for violence and evil.” Dr. Von Stoopler paused for effect. “But is zee monster naturally evil? Does zee werewolf kill because it is evil, or is it evil because it kills?”
“Is that an anagram?” Ziggy asked.
“Shut up.”
“Repressed feelings are a common theme among zee monsters. Monsters are mirrors. A reflection of ourselves, or zee side of ourselves we refuse to admit exists, but God created and refused to take the blame for. Zee monster speaks to our insecurities and vulnerabilities. Our flaws. There are numerous examples. Zee vampire is of course an example of repressed sexuality. Godzilla represents our fear of zee atomic age and its potential for destruction. Zee ancient Kraken and even today, zee Jaws, are examples of man’s continued fear of zee oceans and their mysteries. As for zee zombie, it illustrates zee fear of loss of control, loss of identity.”
“Can we just get to the chupacabra?” Avery mumbled as he rubbed his eyes and fidgeted in his chair.
“Of course zee greatest of God’s monsters was Frankenstein,” Dr. Von Stoopler said as he raised his hand over his head to emphasize the point. “Dr. Frankenstein’s monster was born in an attempt to create zee perfect human being. It is a case study in man’s fascination with usurping God’s ability to create life. God invented Frankenstein’s monster as a warning to avoid his personal sanctum, his ultimate power…” Suddenly, Dr. Von Stoopler stopped his presentation as a cell phone rang out from the front of the room. “Turn off zee damn phone!” he exploded. “Didn’t you see zee sign in back? No cell phones!”
“I thought it was an anagram,” the clearly embarrassed man replied as he shut off his phone.
“Zee anagram for what?” the perturbed doctor asked.
“Cell phones on,” the man meekly replied.
“Congratulations, Ziggy,” Avery said. “You aren’t the only idiot here.”
“Thanks, dude.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“Oh.”
“Zee cell phones are all off, no?” Dr. Von Stoopler inquired of the audience. “Very well, where was I? Ah, yes, zee monster and zee duality of man. Of course, any young schoolboy can tell you that Dr. Jekyll and zee Mr. Hyde are one and zee same, but what zee schoolboy can’t tell you is that…”
“What about the chupacabra?” Avery interrupted.
“Please hold zee questions until the end. Now, then…”
“When are you going to get to the chupacabra?” Avery demanded.
“Zee what?”
“The chupacabra.”
Dr. Von Stoopler addressed Avery. “Zee chupacabra is insignificant. It is a B-list monster. Like zee Cyclops.”
“You’re a fraud!” Avery yelled as he stood from his chair. The uncomfortable audience began to murmur.
“Zee insolence! How dare you. I’m zee world-renowned Dr. Von Stoopler!”
“Von Stoopler. Von Stupid. Whatever. I have evidence of their diabolical march towards us as we speak.”
“You have zee physical evidence?”
“Not exactly.”
“That is what I thought,” the doctor scoffed. “Come back when you have zee evidence. Now sit down and behave yourself.”
“No, you sit down, you Teutonic charlatan!”
“Chill out, man,” Ziggy pleaded.
“I will not chill out! Not while this fossilized hoaxster rambles on with his self-glorifying psychobabble bullshit.”
“Out! Out! I want this man out of zee building!” Four rather large conference attendees converged on Avery and Ziggy.
“I was just leaving,” Avery announced, realizing he was outnumbered and had left his Filipino fighting sticks at home. “And by the way, my conference evaluation form will be returned with highly negative marks.” Avery and Ziggy began their retreat. “Mark my words, Dr. Von Stoopler. I will have my revenge. Do you hear me? I will have my revenge!” he roared at the top of his lungs.
“Like, that didn’t go very well,” Ziggy said as he and Avery sat on the sidewalk in front of the warehouse, waiting for Pappy to pick them up. “We came all this way, man, and nothing. Like, absolutely nothing on chupacabras.”
“B-list monster my ass,” Avery swore. “Who needs these clowns anyway? Not me. I’ve got more scientific credibility in one finger than that entire room put together. The only person in this blasted town who actually makes any sense is that crazy witch of yours.”
“Mae Mae?”
“Yes. Head south it is. Pack your bags, Ziggy. We’re going to Mexico.”
“Like, I don’t have any bags, man. Just my sack.”
“Whatever. But we’re going to need some help.”
“Like, that’s exactly what Mae Mae said. That’s, like, really trippy, dude. She, like, prophesied it. What kind of help are we going to need?”
“Someone who knows the land, someone who knows the language, the people. Someone who can provide some muscle if things get tough. Most importantly, so
meone who wants to go to Mexico.”
“But, we don’t know anyone like that, man.”
“I do.”
CHAPTER FIVE
El Carnicero
Dusty wind blew across the corrugated metal rooftop of a single-story cinderblock building on the outskirts of Tornillo. A sign outside cautioned that Survivors Will Be Prosecuted. Assembled inside the building were three two-man militia fire teams, Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie. They comprised the main body of the Southwest Texas Revolutionary Armed Confederate Border Operations Militia (STRAC-BOM). At the front of the main room stood their illustrious commander, General X-Ray. The portly general, dressed in his WWII tank commander’s uniform, paced back and forth in front of his motley brigade of men sitting in lawn chairs and wearing a mismatched assortment of surplus fatigues from various branches of the military.
“Gentleman,” the General began. “Today we will begin a new campaign to stem the horrendous tide of illegal immigration into our fair republic of Texas. As y’all know, U.S. military and law enforcement assets, and I use the word ‘assets’ loosely, have continued to illustrate their complete incompetence in protecting our borders from this Hispanic scourge.”
“Uh, General, sir,” Private Foxtrot interjected. “We haven’t been having much luck, either, now that I think about it. It’s been months since we’ve stopped any illegal aliens on our desert patrols.”
“What’s your point, Private?”
“Well, maybe they ain’t coming anymore.”
“Nonsense,” General X-Ray scoffed. “Of course they’re still coming. They’re just being more careful and clever in their sneakiness. They’re dang near as hard to catch as my ex-wife’s boyfriend. What we need is a new plan. A new tactic to bag these vicious transgressors before our blessed homeland is overrun with non-American DNA,” the General said as he slapped a battered topographic map taped to a blackboard with his leather riding crop. “Fire Team Leader Bravo, what do you do if the fish aren’t biting?”
“Well, usually we start throwing some dynamite around the boat, or maybe run an electrical cable through the water and…”
“No! No! No!” The General slapped the map with his crop. “You move your boat to where the fish are biting.”
“Yeah, that works pretty good, too,” Fire Team Leader Bravo replied.
“Sir?” Private Zulu raised his hand.
“What is it?”
“Are we still talking about the Mexicans, or just regular old fishing? ’Cause I don’t much like boats. I’m not so good at swimming.”
“The Mexicans,” the General replied as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Now will y’all just shut up until I’m finished? I’m trying to brief you on Operation Gold Miner. Now, see these marked coordinates on the map? This is the exact spot the operation will commence from.”
“Sir?” Fire Team Leader Charlie asked. “Isn’t that pretty close to the border?”
“Actually, Fire Team Leader, it is directly on the border. It’s a critical detail that Operation Gold Miner necessitates. Gentlemen, this plan is ingenious in its simplicity. If we can’t interdict illegal aliens on our side of the border, we will interdict them on their side.”
“General?” Fire Team Leader Alpha spoke up. “How are we to know which Mexicans are planning to cross the border?”
“They all are!” the General barked.
“All of them, sir?” asked Private Tango.
“Of course! Why wouldn’t they? Any Mexicans we encounter on the southern side of the border are criminals who haven’t taken the opportunity to cross onto our sacred soil. In fact, it most likely means that they’re the laziest or least cunning of the immigrant population. It should be easy pickings.”
“Sir?” Private Zulu asked. “I’m not sure I can go to ole Mexico. I don’t have a passport.”
“You won’t need one, Private.”
“I’m pretty sure I read something that says you do now with all them new regulations and such.”
“Son? Don’t you understand? We’re going to tunnel into Mexico. We won’t need any documents.”
“But what if we get caught?” Private Zulu asked. “I sure don’t want to end up in one of those federales prisons.”
“We won’t get caught. That’s an order, Private.”
“If you say so, General,” Private Zulu replied quietly as he dreadfully thought of being locked away in a dark, foul-smelling cell full of banditos.
“Now,” the General continued. “To execute Operation Gold Miner, we’re going to need some highly specialized equipment in addition to our normal battle rig-out, namely, shovels, buckets, and some two-by-fours. We should have some in the storage shed out back. The key to victory will be stealth and speed. Team Leaders, we’ll rotate your Fire Teams into the excavation point every fifteen minutes. Fire Team Alpha, you’ll lead off. Fire Team Bravo, you will be in charge of removing debris out of the tunnel via buckets. Fire Team Charlie, you’ll start off by building the wooden structural supports for the interior of the tunnel.”
“Sir?” Fire Team Leader Charlie asked. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just throw a ladder up against the fence and climb over?”
“It was an option I initially considered; however, once we have captured and bound our prisoners, I was concerned with our ability to evacuate them over the wall. Under it is! Besides, I like the irony. I suspect the reason that we aren’t encountering the enemy more often on our patrols is that they’ve constructed a vast network of tunnels all the way to Amarillo by now. Men, this will be a daylight operation. I’ve selected a remote location for our dig site; however, we will need to be extra careful of being spotted by military and law enforcement. This time the threat will come from both sides of the border. Keep your eyes peeled north and south. As always, if we do encounter the authorities, if nobody talks, we all walk. They can’t hold us for digging a hole. For all they know, we could be mining for gold.”
“General?”
“Yes, Private Foxtrot.”
“What if we do find gold?”
“Requisition it. God knows we could use the money.”
“Sir?”
“Yes, Private Tango?”
“Do you think we’ll find any gold?”
“Fire Team Leader Bravo!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Punch your trooper in the back of his head!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Fire Team Leader Bravo slapped the private sitting in front of him. “Mission successful, sir! Standing by for orders!”
“Good man. Now, listen up, boys. I know the hunting has been a little slow lately, but I’ve got a good feeling in my belly that we are going to nail ’em big time on this mission. This could be a major turning point in the war.”
“Sir?” Fire Team Leader Charlie asked. “What if we come across Americans instead of Mexicans? After all, it’s tourist season.”
“If tourists are in season, then it’s perfectly legal to shoot them. You have my blessing.” The fire teams of STRAC-BOM glanced nervously out of the corners of their eyes at one another. “Remember your duty, men,” the General continued. “Our calling is a special one. The defense of our homeland and protection of our God-given rights and liberties can be denied by no government, foreign or domestic. Any organization that would attempt to abrogate these freedoms is the enemy. We are the only deterrent to tyranny left in this indifferent country. We can never let fear or doubt cause our conviction to waver, for we are the last line of defense. We are the Bowie knives of freedom, and if he were alive today, I have no doubt that old Jimbo would be the first man down the tunnel. We’ll head out once we’ve rounded up our equipment. Private Zulu!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Grab the shovels and buckets. Private Tango, round up the two-by-fours. Fire Team Leader Alpha, we’ll take your pickup.” The men of STRAC-BOM got up and began to assemble their gear. “God bless, men,” the General said as he saluted his brigade. “And good hunting!”
An hour later, the m
en of STRAC-BOM approached the site for Operation Gold Miner. They were packed into the open bed of Fire Team Leader Alpha’s pickup truck. General X-Ray rode up front. A scuffed bumper sticker on the back of the pickup read, I’m From Texas, What Country Are You From? The truck approached a small wooden building that stood a few feet from the tall metal border fence.
“Pull up to that shed,” the General said to Fire Team Leader Alpha, who was behind the wheel.
“Yes, sir,” he replied as he brought the vehicle to a dusty halt. The dry wind was blowing hard.
“Dang, General,” Private Tango said as he climbed out of the truck bed. “It’s blowing so much dust the jackrabbits are digging holes six feet in the air.”
“Never mind the wind, Private. It’ll provide some good cover if the border patrol is in this sector. Now, unload the gear, men. We’ve got some digging to do. Fire Teams! Get inside that structure and start taking up the floorboards. We’ll initiate our tunnel entrance inside the building.”
“Why not just start it right over here?” Private Zulu asked. “It’d be a bit closer to the wall.”
“Damn it, Private Zulu,” the General replied. “I swear on the baby Jesus, if I pushed your brain up an ant’s ass, it would rattle around like a BB in a box car. We dig inside because the building will cover our entrance from overhead satellite recon.”
“Good thinking, sir,” the private replied as he unloaded shovels from the truck. Soon, the men had the floorboards pulled up and were starting to excavate the hard, dry dirt. It hadn’t rained in weeks, and the ground was tough as concrete. After the Fire Teams had completed three rotations of digging, the hole was still only a few feet deep.
“Come on, men,” the General implored. “Keep digging. No surrender!” For the next three hours, the hot and sweaty Fire Teams did battle against the dense soil with their spades. For his part, the General, for the inspiration of his troopers, retold historic tales of great military battles and heroic deeds. Some were factually correct — others, not so much. “So when my Uncle Earl sailed out of the port of Galveston on his shrimping boat in July of forty-two, they said he was crazy. And he was crazy, he liked to eat wax candles, but it doesn’t change the fact that he singlehandedly tracked down and netted a German U-boat off the Mississippi delta. And with nothing but a single-shot four-ten and a ball peen hammer, Uncle Earl sent U-166 straight to the bottom, thus avenging the loss of the steam passenger ship, the Robert E. Lee, which the cowardly U-boat had earlier torpedoed and sunk, taking twenty-five brave souls with her,” the General said with his hand over his heart and tears welling in his eyes. “With this valiant act by my family, the threat to the Gulf Coast was eliminated. Men, it was a crucial turning point in the war against the Nazis. Rivaled in significance only by the invasion of Normandy or possibly the Battle of Stalingrad.”
Trail of the Chupacabra: An Avery Bartholomew Pendleton Misadventure (The Chupacabra Trilogy - Book 2) Page 5
