by JE Gurley
“I don’t have days but I do have something that might do the trick much quicker – Semtex.”
McNeil looked incredulous. His cheeks reddened in anger. “You’re going to blast a hole? I thought the idea was to rescue them, not blow them up.”
Faber didn’t tell him rescuing Hardin and Simmons was secondary to getting his men underground. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.” He motioned for his men to bring up the Semtex.
“Wait!” McNeil yelled. “Let me try the walkie-talkie first. It might work.” He pressed the mic key. “Hardin, this is McNeil. Do you read me? Over.” Loud static came from the tiny speaker. He tried again. “Hardin, this is McNeil. Do you read me?”
Another burst of static burst from the walkie-talkie; then, “McNeil? Where the hell are you?”
33
By the time the creature showed itself, the smoke in the cavern was getting denser. I had coughed until my throat was raw from the dry, choking air. The Chupacabra made good use of the open cavern, flying in circles near the uneven roof, dodging in and out of the light. I fired one time, dislodging a small stalactite but missing the creature. It seemed reluctant to attack us head on. Maybe it knew it could outlast us when the cavern filled with smoke. On the other hand, maybe it had developed a healthy respect for the elephant gun.
Simmons moaned from his seated position by the pool. “Don’t stand here trying to protect me. Go kill the damned thing. I’ll protect myself with this.” He hefted Walmsley’s large hunting knife.
He didn’t look able to sit up much less wield a knife. His eyes were half closed.
“You watch my back, partner,” I said. He threw me a grin.
Ella was almost in tears, but I had to hand it to her, she didn’t whimper. She squatted beside Simmons, one hand on his shoulder and the other, slightly shaking, held the .357. The creature flew at us from the cover of a large boulder, almost catching me by surprise. I aimed and fired, striking the creature in the left shoulder, shredding some wing. It screamed in pain and fell to the ground thrashing around. I tried for a second shot, a kill shot, but the creature regained its feet and scurried off like a three-legged dog to the cover of some boulders.
The sound of the walkie-talkie almost made me fire the elephant gun in a knee jerk reaction. I had forgotten all about it. The voice was weak and filled with static.
“Hardin, this is McNeil … read me?”
I grabbed the walkie-talkie and keyed the mic. “McNeil? Where the hell are you?” I was relieved that he was still alive.
“We’re at the monastery. Smoke…venting from the old mill. We’re…blast a hole to the river. We’re firing in five minutes. Be ready.”
The static was a problem. I hoped I was piecing together the entire conversation. “Who’s we?”
“Faber and some commando looking guys.”
I glanced at Simmons, who just shook his head. I spoke rapidly, hoping McNeil would hear it all before the static took it.
“McNeil, the creature’s here. We drove it out of the tunnel with the fire. If you blast, it might escape.”
“… worry. You just stay away from the blast … five minutes.”
I knew the creature could understand what was happening. I grabbed Simmons and urged him closer to the pool while I kept an eye on our gray friend. If we could stay between it and the opening they were proposing to make, we could keep it trapped.
The creature was not willing to cooperate. Sensing a way out, it came at us in a frenzy of beating wings and flashing talons, its earlier wound almost healed. I dropped Simmons and brought the gun up to bear but could not move fast enough to aim properly. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ella raise the .357 and fire twice, miraculously scoring a hit with one shot. The recoil sent her sprawling on her ass. The creature turned toward her, allowing me a shot. I fired and hit a leg. It screamed and flew into the shadows trailing a broken leg. I cursed in frustration. The Chupacabra was healing faster than we could inflict damage. Simmons was fumbling with something he had removed from his belt but couldn’t take my eyes off the creature to see what. Groaning, he rose to his feet. In his hand, he held a six-foot cattle prod I don’t know where he got it unless it was collapsible. Bright blue sparks danced along the edge. I suspected it was no mere cattle prod.
The creature dove at him. He caught the creature in the neck with the prod. It shrieked and plummeted into the pool of water. He waded into the pool, thrust the prod into the creature’s midsection and triggered it again.
Simmons’ body jerked the high voltage current surged through him and fell face first into the water. The creature was in a frenzy, struggling to free itself from the water but unable to move. Its screams filled the cavern as it flopped around madly. Smoke erupted from its mouth and nostrils. The odor of burning flesh filled the air. I hoped it was all the creatures. Finally, its cries fell silent and it floated face down in the water. I had the presence of mind not to grab Simmons with my hands to drag him from the water. First, I knocked the prod from his grip. He released the trigger. Dragging him from the pool, I quickly checked his heart. It was not beating.
“He’s dead!” Ella screamed. I didn’t know if she meant Simmons or the creature.
“Damn,” I muttered and rolled Simmons onto his back and ripped open his shirt. Large blisters covered his face and hands. His wound was weeping fresh blood through the makeshift bandage I had applied. I yanked it off. The edges of his wound were ragged and raw, puffy with infection, but that was now the least of his problems. I tried to remember what I had gleaned from my first aid classes and began to perform CPR. I hated to imagine what kind of damage I was doing to his ribs as I pounded and pressed down forcefully.
“Here, let me do it. You’ll kill him.” Ella pushed me aside and applied a gentle, steady pressure to Simmons’ chest with the heels of her hand. I backed away and let her work. I glanced at Joria. She stared numbly at the inert Chupacabra. With a gasp, Simmons’ chest heaved as he drew in a lungful of air. His eyes fluttered and he looked up at me.
“Did I get the bastard?” he whispered.
I rolled him over so he could see the creature floating in the water. He smiled.
“Good.”
The floor of the cavern rocked violently as if caught in an earthquake; then the blast of the explosion shot up the river channel. A gust of smoke and dust-filled air roiled into the cavern from the flaming tunnel above as a new opening appeared at the old mill site, pulling air from the tunnel above us. The water level dropped precipitously as it sought the new exit.
“Come on,” I said, lighting my last flare.
I dragged Simmons back into the pool with my free hand, holding his head above water as I floated him like a raft down the river. Behind me, Ella herded Joria along with the pistol, savagely poking her in the back to get her moving. The water level was now barely knee deep and moving Simmons was difficult. I did not relish the idea of lugging his heavy body out the tunnel on my back. I set the flare on a rock ledge. As I bent over to pick up Simmons, Ella cried out.
“Oh, my God!” she gasped.
I turned and saw the Chupacabra alive and well headed for us. I dropped Simmons and aimed my elephant gun, but Ella was in the way.
“Move!” I yelled, but she was either too frightened or couldn’t hear me over the creature’s raucous shrieks.
Ella, thinking fast on her feet, shoved Joria toward the creature and raised her pistol. Joria, her eyes blazing in an almost religious fervor, spun and raised her arms in some futile attempt to prevent Ella from firing. Joria’s expression turned to one of pain and surprise as the creature’s talons gripped her head and lifted her from the water in its frenzy to reach the rest of us. As its six-inch long talons sank deep into her skull, she groaned out, “Why?”
“Foolish human,” the creature replied as it tossed her aside like a rag doll. “Did you think I would share my world with you? You are cattle.”
Her limp body thudded sickeningly against the wall of
the tunnel and splashed into the shallow water. The water turned red around her, flowing toward the entrance. Silently, I thanked the creature for administering justice. As much as I now despised her, I didn’t savor the idea of her languishing in a prison cell for years. She could walk out still looking thirty-five. I didn’t think she would have adapted well to prison life.
As the creature readied itself to attack, five men dressed like commandos splashed toward us. It turned and flew away. One of the men stopped and looked me over carefully before glancing down at Simmons. He slung his weapon over his shoulder, picked up Simmons’ dead weight as if he weighed nothing, and draped him over his other shoulder.
“Come with me,” he said as he urged us out of the tunnel. He glanced at Joria’s body but said nothing. His four companions continued up the tunnel after the creature.
Ahead of us, the tunnel grew lighter. It was good to see daylight again. They had blasted not through the massive piles of debris above, but through the side of the dry riverbed closest to the underground channel. The river now formed a waterfall cascading into the centuries-dry river. McNeil’s smiling face appeared in the opening, as well as a dapper suited man who had to be Simon’s boss, Faber. The commando continued up the bank with Simmons to a waiting ambulance. One McNeil’s men grabbed Ella and helped her up. Faber removed his shades and offered me his hand.
“Well, Detective Hardin. We meet at last.”
I ignored his hand and jerked my thumb back down the tunnel. “You’re about to lose four men. If you have any brains at all, you’ll pull them back and bring in a shitload of explosives to blow this thing to hell and back.”
He smiled one of those condescending smiles that made me want to take a swing at him. “We’re professionals, Detective. Let us do our job. You look like you could use some medical attention.”
I nodded. “I warned you.”
I took McNeil’s offered hand, stepped out of the tunnel and climbed up the slope, leaving Faber alone. Before I reached the top, gunfire erupted inside the river tunnel. I shook my head.
“They never learn,” I muttered. I checked to see my elephant gun was loaded, turned and descended the slope.
Faber had his cell phone out, screaming into it. “Talk to me Getty! What’s happening?”
Screams echoed down the tunnel and from the speaker of his cell phone. More shots followed.
“They’re dying in there, for Christ’s sake. Pull them back.”
He stared at me open mouthed. I stepped past him into the smoke-filled tunnel.
“Where are you going?”
“To finish my job.”
He reached for me. “You can’t…”
I shoved the barrel of the elephant gun into his belly hard enough to make him gasp for breath. “Don’t try to stop me,” I warned. He backed away.
The shots had ceased. I held out little hope any of his men had survived, therefore I was surprised when one man raced down the tunnel, stumbling through the smoke in knee-deep bloody water, his shirt ripped and his face was a bloody mess. Not far behind him came the Chupacabra. Five yards from me, the creature won the race, picking up the screaming man and slamming him into the roof of the river tunnel with enough force to crush his skull. Not satisfied with this, it ripped into his dead body with its teeth, scattering entrails and organs, then dropped the body into the river. I watched the body float past me, trailing bloody intestines. The creature raised its head, sniffed deeply.
“Freedom!” it shouted, recognizing fresh air and maybe even the smell of the monastery where it was born. It faced me.
“Not yet,” I said. “You have to come through me first.”
The creature screamed and flew at me. I did not move. I raised the elephant gun and fingered both triggers. I knew I had one shot before it was on me. The creature opened its wings wide and thrust out one leg, trailing the broken one behind. Just before it slammed into me, I fired both barrels. I went down, hurting, bowled over by the momentum of the creature. We both exited the tunnel into the late afternoon daylight and tumbled down the waterfall. The water was not deep. I hit the bottom hard with the creature on top of me. I managed to push it aside and surface, gasping for air. I hurt all over. I had bloody talon gashes on both sides and teeth marks in my neck where the creature had grazed me, but the creature floated face down in the river with twin holes the size of grapefruits through its body. I thought it strange that it looked so much smaller floating there.
“Rejuvenate from that, bastard!” I shouted down at it and laughed. Just to be certain, I reloaded and fired both barrels at its head, smiling as it disintegrated into a bloody pulp. I looked up at Faber. He stood staring at the creature with his mouth open, looking like he had just lost his best friend. To further spoil his day, I said, “You’ll find Joria Alvarez’s body back in the tunnel.”
He looked at me in surprise. “Dr. Alvarez? She was here?”
“Helping the creature. She’s been helping him all along.”
He nodded. “We thought so.”
“Thanks for telling me, you bastard,” I spat at him and brushed past him.
“Did you kill her?”
I spun and leveled the elephant gun at him. He had forgotten it wasn’t loaded and backed away until he tripped and fell in the water on top of the creature. When he realized what where he was, he jumped up wiping the creature’s yellowish blood from his suit.
“The Chupacabra did.”
I marched triumphantly back up the riverbank and saw McNeil smiling at me. “Case closed?”
“Case closed. How’s Clad?”
“He’s in the ambulance. He’s in bad shape, but he’s awake. He wants to talk to you. Maybe you two can share an ambulance. You look like shit.”
“We can make it a threesome. I seem to remember putting you in ambulance not long ago.”
He laughed. “I had things to do. Besides, I’ll outlive all of you.” He glanced at Faber walking up the slope still wiping daintily at his ruined suit with a handkerchief. “Faber’s bosses won’t be happy with him or with you, I imagine.”
“He lost five men needlessly. Clad was the only one with any sense.”
“If I had any sense I wouldn’t have shoved that stun stick in the creature while I was in it,” Simmons called out from the back of the ambulance.
I peeked inside. He lay on a gurney with an EMT working on his wound. An IV bottle hung above him with a tube running to his arm. He tried to grin but it took too much energy.
“Good thing you did,” I said. “You saved our lives.”
“Is it dead?” he asked.
“It is now, permanently. You may be out of a job though.”
“The others?”
I paused. He could read the answer in my eyes. “All dead. Joria too.”
He closed his eyes and lay back. “Good men,” he said. “Her, I don’t give a crap about.”
I looked at the EMT. “Got room for one more?” I crawled inside and sat down on the edge of Simmons’ stretcher. The EMT looked at my wounds with professional interest. Ella came up to the back of the ambulance. Her hair was dirty and mussed and her face was filthy, but she was smiling. She was also the only one who had come through unscathed. She was small but tough. I decided I liked her. She handed me the .357.
“Thanks. It is dead, isn’t it?”
“Very dead.”
“Is it the last one?”
My stomach did a flip-flop. I didn’t know what to tell her. She was a reporter. I chose a safe reply. “I hope to hell it is.”
“I guess my story is dead too. No one will ever believe all this without proof. The Feds will probably confiscate all my stuff. Poor Steve. All that work.”
I grinned. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” I offered her my hand. I wasn’t surprised to feel a small hard object pressed into it my palm as she shook my hand – the memory card from the camera. I quickly pocketed it. “Look me up sometime.”
She looked at me quizzically. “You ri
sked your life so many times to kill the creature. Why?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “When I start a case, I like to finish it.”
“I think it’s more than that. I believe some people are born heroes and they just have to act heroic. It’s their nature.”
“A hero? I don’t think so. I’m just stubborn.”
“Maybe that’s what being a hero is – being stubborn.” She looked away. “I have to go now and tell Steve’s mother what happened.”
“Do me a favor. When you write your story, tell the truth. The people deserve it.”
She smiled again and walked away. I figured it wouldn’t be too long before the truth came out. Whether people chose to believe it was another matter. Outside the ambulance, Faber was on his phone. I didn’t like the way he smiled as he hung up. He noticed me and walked over. He hardly glanced at Simmons.
“Just thought you might want to know, Hardin. It seems our counterpart in the Ukraine has identified a pair of what they described as ‘gargoyles’ killing young women in rural communities.” He smiled smugly and walked off.
I silently cursed and hung my head. Joria had been right after all. There were more of the creatures in the world. After all I had done, all we had been through, it meant nothing.
“I’ve never been to Russia,” Simmons said breaking my bout of self-pity.
I looked over at him and grinned. “Is that an offer?”
He shrugged. “We’re both currently, er, unemployed. Why not start a Chupacabra Busters business? God knows we have enough experience. Besides, I would dearly love to frustrate Faber again.”
The ambulance rocked as McNeil crawled in, sat on the floor by the door and pulled the doors closed behind him.
“Do they have subways in Russia?” he asked with a smile.
The EMT gave me a sedative and I allowed myself to relax. As it coursed through my body, I remembered a bible verse from Sunday school: Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord. I thought that maybe the Lord wouldn’t mind me horning in on a little piece of the action.