The Chupacabras of the Río Grande

by Adam Gidwitz

  “Fan out!” Mr. Cervantes called, as they fell further behind. “We’re less likely to lose sight of him that way!”

  So they fanned out, jogging through the heat, trying to follow Jersey’s zigzags through the desert.

  The hot afternoon sun blazed down on them. Elliot wiped his forehead with his bare forearm—only to realize he was transferring more sweat to his brow than he was taking off.

  Uchenna slowed. “What is that?” she called to her friends. Up ahead, a wide band of chaparral seemed to be . . . shimmering.

  At the same moment, Elliot shouted, “Guys, I think I’m starting to hallucinate. I’m seeing a lake! In the desert!”

  “It is a lake,” Lupita called back.

  Mr. Cervantes was standing at the lake’s edge, gesturing to them all. “¡Vengan!” he was saying. “¡De prisa! I think Jersey has found something!”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A snarling sound came from the reedy bank. Mr. Cervantes gestured at everyone as they ran up. “Quickly! Make a semicircle right here! If Jersey has found the chupacabras, we’ll grab him.”

  “With our bare hands?” Elliot exclaimed. “It has spines, right?!”

  “Grab him by the legs,” Mr. Cervantes suggested. “Or the belly. Oh, and watch the teeth, too.”

  “Madness,” Elliot muttered to himself.

  At just that instant, Jersey yelped in surprise, and a bright flash of yellow exploded from the dense reeds and then froze.

  Everyone took a collective breath of surprise.

  A creature crouched in front of them, its little head swiveling slowly to look at each person in turn, golden eyes turning red as they reflected the noontime sunlight.

  It resembled a small, hairless dog. Its skin was mottled with different shades of light brown. Its knobby spine ended in a short tail, tufted yellow like the quills that ran like a Mohawk over its head and down its neck.

  The creature dug into the dirt with raccoon-like paws, each digit tipped with a black claw, and hissed at them, baring three long, needle-like fangs—two pointing downward from the top of its mouth, and one up. Drops of saliva oozed down them.

  “Okay,” whispered Dr. Cervantes. “No one make any sudden—”

  Which is when Jersey came flying out of the reeds, straight at the vampire dog.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Many things happened at once.

  Dr. Cervantes grabbed Jersey straight out of the air.

  Professor Fauna leaped toward the chupacabras and missed, sprawling in the dirt.

  Uchenna rolled toward the creature with an expert tumble, but her sweaty fingers slipped over its hairless skin.

  The Cervantes siblings were both running toward it from opposite directions, hoping to trap it, but the quilled creature started zigzagging like crazy. Brother and sister collided and dropped to the ground.

  “Lupita!” Mateo shouted.

  “Mateo!” Lupita shouted at the same moment.

  The chupacabras rushed back toward the little lake.

  Right at Elliot.

  He crouched, his heart racing. Once, his uncle Alter had tried to teach him baseball. It had been a disaster, but Elliot had learned one thing—how to field a grounder. He bent his knees and lowered his hands, cupping them together . . .

  And the chupacabras ran right between his legs, bounced into the air, and dove into the water.

  Elliot looked up. Mr. Cervantes was hurtling toward him. Elliot fell flat on his back as Mr. Cervantes hurled himself over Elliot and into the lake after the chupacabras.

  Everyone gathered at the bank, watching the ripples die down. Bubbles streamed up to the surface.

  “It’s okay,” Mateo told Uchenna with a nudge. “My dad can hold his breath a long time.”

  As if on cue, Israel Cervantes broke the surface of the shallow lake and stood, water streaming from him, a wriggling bundle clutched in his arms.

  “Te tengo, cachorrito,” he muttered, giving a fierce smile as he examined the chupacabras closely. Then he looked up at the rest of them. “Got him.”

  Dr. Cervantes handed Jersey off to Elliot and hurried over to examine the chupacabras as Mr. Cervantes waded out of the lake. Professor Fauna was right behind her. The hairless creature had stopped squirming and was now glaring at his captor, eyes narrowed, as he made a low, whistling sound.

  Dr. Cervantes exhaled heavily. “A chupacabras. Cara a cara, at last.” As she marveled at the hairless little creature, its low whistling grew more intense. “Yes,” she muttered, almost to herself, “this is definitely an immature male. Quills are soft and short. Paws are smaller than the tracks we’ve found before. But there’s no sign of a pack. Hmm . . .”

  “Perhaps he was separated from the others,” Professor Fauna suggested. “It might explain why he is out during the day.”

  “Wait,” said Uchenna. “What do you mean he’s immature?”

  “I find that most males are immature,” Lupita added.

  Mateo said, “Hey!”

  But Dr. Cervantes was shaking her head as she ran a hand over the chupacabras’s wet and trembling skin. “To say that he is immature means that he is young. A child.”

  “Awww!” said Uchenna and Lupita at once.

  “Awww?” Elliot exclaimed. “How can you say ‘Awww’ about that?” He gestured with one arm at the hairless, spiny, mottled, golden-eyed chupacabras. In his other arm, Jersey had fallen very still.

  “It’s a baby!” Lupita cooed.

  “It’s not a baby, Lupita,” her mother corrected her. “It’s a juvenile. Probably not much older than you, in chupacabras years.”

  “He’s just a cute little pup!” Lupita said.

  Uchenna asked Dr. Cervantes, “Can I touch him?”

  Dr. Cervantes looked from Uchenna to Professor Fauna to Uchenna. “Under normal circumstances, I would say absolutely not. But nothing about today is normal, so . . . Just watch out for the spines.”

  So Uchenna reached out her hand. Mr. Cervantes was holding the chupacabras’s head, so he couldn’t snap at any of them. As Uchenna stroked his side, he seemed to relax a little. But he continued to whistle through his nose, low and intense.

  Lupita announced, “I say we call him Choopi!”

  Uchenna nodded as she kept stroking his side. “Yeah, that works. I like it.”

  Elliot did a double-take. “Wait, what?” He gestured at the blue Jersey Devil in his arms. “When I wanted to name Jersey ‘Jersey,’ you said it was a dumb name. You wanted to name him Bonechewer! Now we’ve literally caught a bloodsucker and you’re fine with ‘Choopi?’ Gah!”

  Mateo laughed. “Girls, Elliot. They stick together.”

  “For the record,” Elliot said, “I like the name Choopi. I’m just pointing out the irony.”

  Professor Fauna had crouched down so that he was at eye level with the little creature. “Choopi, el chupacabras. Buenos días, amiguito. Now, I have a question for you. Where is your family?”

  Which is when Elliot screamed, “What’s happening to Jersey?!”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Everyone turned to see Jersey totally rigid in Elliot’s arms. It was like he’d been stuffed by a taxidermist. Professor Fauna and Uchenna rushed to Elliot’s side.

  The professor felt the Jersey Devil’s flank. “He is still breathing. But he seems to be in suspended animation! A strange combination of a coma and rigor mortis!”

  “Don’t say mortis!” Elliot exclaimed. “It means dead!”

  “He’s not dead,” said Uchenna. “But what’s—”

  And then something changed. They could feel it in the air, somehow. And then Jersey shook his red wings and began twisting in Elliot’s arms again.

  Professor Fauna, Uchenna, and Elliot all looked around, trying to find the source of the sudden atmospheric alteration. Their gazes came to res
t on Mr. Cervantes. He was gently holding the chupacabras’s nostrils closed.

  “The whistling,” said Mr. Cervantes. “It seems to have a hypnotic effect on Jersey.”

  “This must be how a chupacabras can drain the blood from a bull!” Dr. Cervantes said excitedly. “They have the power of hypnosis!”

  “Not on us though, weirdly,” said Mateo.

  “Maybe just on animals?” his sister added.

  Professor Fauna stroked his beard. “Our large brains may be less susceptible to suggestion . . .”

  “Don’t call Jersey’s brain small!” Uchenna said. Jersey reached out and licked Uchenna’s face. She giggled and pushed him away.

  “So, we don’t know where his family is?” Mateo asked. He began stroking the chupacabras’s head. The little creature didn’t seem to mind. Since Mr. Cervantes was still holding its nose closed, it was breathing through its mouth, its tongue lolling out like a dog’s. Except that its tongue was black.

  “It’s very strange,” said Dr. Cervantes. “We know that chupacabras are pack animals. To have a young one separated from his family is unheard of. And dangerous. For him and for the livestock that live around here. Typically, juveniles don’t know how to feed properly without their parents’ guidance.”

  “What? I can eat without you around, Mamá!” Lupita objected.

  Mr. Cervantes raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, m’ija? If you had all the money you wanted and lived by yourself, what would you eat for every single meal?”

  Lupita paused. “Pepperoni pizza.”

  Mr. Cervantes nodded. “Yes. Yes, you would.”

  “I see your point,” Lupita said.

  Mateo was staring at the little chupacabras. “Man, if Choopi doesn’t know where his family is, that would be terrible. I’ve got a pal named Andrés at school. He was born here, but his parents weren’t. They’ve been taken to some detention center—no one knows where. Andrés is living with Mrs. Braunfels, our principal, until they can find his parents. Man, that kid is crying like every day.”

  They all turned back to the chupacabras, their faces twisted with sympathy.

  “Are you like Andrés?” Lupita asked. “Separated from your family? How can we help you, little Choopi?”

  Choopi had begun to wriggle violently in Mr. Cervantes’s arms. “I think we must admit the possibility—” Mr. Cervantes said, “that he doesn’t want—” The chupacabras twisted, poking Mr. Cervantes with his spines. This elicited a yell from Mr. Cervantes. He also loosened his grip.

  And with that, the chupacabras was down on the ground and sprinting across the chaparral again.

  “Our help.” Mr. Cervantes sighed, rubbing the spot where the chupacabras had poked him.

  Jersey leaped from Elliot’s arms and ran after the chupacabras.

  “I guess we’re gonna chase them again?” Elliot asked unhappily.

  Dr. Cervantes pointed after Choopi. “If the chupacabras keeps going in that direction, he’ll lead Jersey straight into the pulga. The flea market.”

  Dr. Cervantes winced. “Big space. Tons of people.”

  “Ah,” said the professor. “A chupacabras and a Jersey Devil running around a flea market. This does not sound good.”

  “We’ve gotta stop them,” Uchenna said. “Grown-ups, can you drive to the pulga? You might get there faster. And we can text you if Choopi changes direction or if anything else happens.”

  Dr. Cervantes said, “That is an excellent idea.”

  Mr. Cervantes and Uchenna exchanged numbers, and then the adults ran toward the Cervanteses’ minivan while Mateo, Lupita, and Uchenna started sprinting after the chupacabras and Jersey.

  Elliot first looked after the adults, and then after the kids. “Can I say that we look like amateurs right now?” he shouted. “Why are all the adults staying together, and leaving the kids all alone? That’s completely irresponsible! And what will we do when we find him? We have no plan!” No one answered. “It’s, like, total amateur hour over here!” he shouted. The sound of his voice died over the chaparral.

  And then more quietly, Elliot added, “I could just stand here and keep talking to myself. Or . . .” He sighed and then started jogging after Choopi, Jersey, and the other kids.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Choopi took them on a brutal pursuit through chaparral, copses of mesquite, and shadeless stretches of weedy dust.

  As they ran, Choopi occasionally let out a long, plaintive whistling sound. Elliot expected this to cause Jersey to freeze and tumble into the dirt, suddenly hypnotized. But it didn’t. As he listened to the repeated, whining whistle, he realized that it sounded quite different from the whistle that had hypnotized Jersey.

  “Uchenna!” Elliot called ahead of him, panting as he ran. “I think Choopi . . . has different kinds . . . of whistles . . . Maybe I can . . . document them . . .”

  But Uchenna was nearly out of earshot, and it seemed, right then, that no one really wanted to document anything. So Elliot focused on running.

  They cleared a clump of acacia and anacua trees, and the parking lot of the flea market appeared ahead of them. Choopi was dashing from car to car, hiding under one before scurrying to the next.

  Jersey scampered across the blacktop. Whenever he passed through the shade of a parked car, he’d become invisible. Then he’d enter the bright sunlight again and his blue fur and red wings would sparkle.

  “We can’t let them enter the market,” Uchenna said between gasps of breath. “Too many witnesses.”

  Mateo agreed. “And too many hiding places.”

  Right then, Choopi leaped from the hood of a car toward a tree that stood by a fence. It would take him no time at all to climb the low branches and get into the flea market.

  “Oh no!” cried Lupita.

  But midway through the air, Choopi suddenly dropped like a stone and began to roll around in the shade on the ground, hissing in frustration. He rolled into a sunny spot—and Jersey became visible, wrestling with the little chupacabras, trying to pin him down. But then a low whistling sound pierced the air, and Jersey froze. Choopi wriggled free of the frozen Jersey Devil’s grip and, still whistling through his nostrils, bounced from the asphalt to the lowest branch, from the branch to the fence, and then scrabbled over the top.

  “That was the hypnotic whistle!” Elliot announced.

  “Uh, you think?” answered Lupita, as Uchenna ran to Jersey and scooped him up. The little blue creature was shaking himself awake. Before he could wriggle free, Uchenna slipped him into the ventilated backpack and zipped it closed.

  They all stood for a moment in the blazingly bright parking lot, sweaty and panting like thirsty dogs.

  Uchenna’s phone buzzed. She took it out. “The adults are already inside. They came in the south entrance.” She punched in a reply. “Let’s go in. We’ll search from the north, they’ll search from the south.”

  Elliot looked through the fence at the lines of stalls and throngs of people. “It’ll be like finding a needle in a haystack,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Lupita replied. “If a needle ran like a jackrabbit and could suck your blood.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The pulga was thronging with people, all of them visiting busy stalls in the partial shade from corrugated aluminum roofs. There were stalls selling plush blankets with bright illustrations on them, stalls crammed with tables of miscellaneous electrical equipment, stalls with sneakers, and stalls with beautiful pieces of desert wood, carved and polished until they shone. Several different songs blared loudly from multiple sources, in totally different styles.

  “Where could he be?” Lupita asked as they scanned the crowd.

  “Just about anywhere . . . ,” Elliot muttered, his senses overwhelmed by the thrumming pulga.

  Just then, crashing sounds and screams broke through the teeming crowd and music.


  “I’m going to take a wild guess and say . . . that way!” Mateo pointed in the direction of the screams. And off the kids ran.

  A dozen karaoke machines and a flat-screen TV had been knocked off a display. The vendor was shouting in Spanish and waving his hands in the air.

  “What is he saying?” Elliot asked Lupita.

  “I am definitely not allowed to repeat any of those words,” Lupita told him.

  “There!” cried Uchenna.

  They saw Choopi scrambling over a table covered with ladies’ blouses. Shoppers were recoiling in disgust and fear. The chupacabras leaped from the table and slammed into an elote cart, knocking it over. Corncobs and kernels and cream and liquid chili went spraying all over the asphalt.

  “What?!” cried Mateo in disgust. “That’s the best elote in Laredo!” A tiny kid started picking corn kernels off the ground and putting them in her mouth. “See?” said Mateo.

  Choopi scrambled into a stand that displayed cell phone accessories. He leaped up onto a shelf, sending phone cases cascading to the ground. The elderly woman who tended the stall shrieked and threw a charger at him. It got caught in his quills. He snarled and went climbing up onto the corrugated roof. From inside the backpack, Jersey was scrabbling and fighting to get out.

  “This is a disaster,” said Lupita.

  “We’ve got to catch him! For his sake!” Uchenna cried.

  “And so he doesn’t destroy any more delicious food!” Mateo added.

  They followed Choopi from below as he leaped from roof to roof. Finally, though, he came to a place where the music was loudest and there were no roofs nearby.