by Jeff Strand
And watch Billy do his homework and play video games and play with himself and snore.
A time drags on, I see a rhythm. During a full moon, anything can happen. I too can run in the fields and hump whoever I want. I can sing and laugh and mock humans or love humans. I can vent my frustrations in a short but eventual window of opportunity. My multiple breasts are heavy with milk that everyone wants because it's an elixir of passion. All jackalope milk is which is why everyone is always clawing at each other to get drunk on milk and then get off on each other.
I look forward to the full moons most of all.
The daytimes are far more grueling then the nights. I'm usually used as a laundry hanger for sweaty hockey socks and jock straps and can't see anything that's going on. Most of the time there's no one there at all. Nothing to look at. All I smell is dirty feet.
Now and again, the family cat comes over and takes a piss on me. It tries to hump me too which I don't mind as much as being pissed on but in my head I'm laughing.
Be a real Jellico cat and dance in the light of the Jellico Moon with the Jackalopes, stupid cat.
But he's too proud to deal with the likes of me except when he wants to sharpen his claws on my antlers.
But I'll bide my time. I love my nephew and would never hurt him. Ever. No matter what curse I have to endure in the meantime. However, Billy has to grow up sometime and once he does, he'll bring a girlfriend over. Then the real magic begins.
In the meantime, I'll run with the Jackalopes in the full moon. It's not so bad.
THE NIGHT MY JACKALOPE AND I FOUGHT THE CHUPACABRA
RICK PICKMAN
ON THE MORNING OF MY 13TH BIRTHDAY, Pa said, ″Boy, you′ll become a man tonight, 'cause we got us a chupacabra to hunt down.″
I should probably tell you right now that Pa was a bullet short of a full cartridge. I ain′t no boy — my name′s Annie, and I′m the eldest of the three James girls. Somehow Pa thought, though, that he had him three sons, and he called me ″Andy″. We never were completely sure if Pa was putting us on, had wanted boys so bad he just decided that′s what we were, or if he was just plumb nuts.
Anyway, the James ranch was the biggest one in three states — we had five thousand head of goats, and a ranch house so big we gave maps to overnight guests. With that many goats, you can imagine that we took any incursion of goat-killing chupacabras pretty seriously. Fortunately we didn′t get many — in fact, at thirteen I′d still never seen one. But we′d found two goats down in the lower forty that morning, mutilated and bled out. ″Pa,″ I said, kind of breathlessly as we stood over the little furry carcasses, ″is that...was they...?″
″Yep,″ he nodded, making his white ten-gallon hat bob, ″that′s the mark of a chupacabra, Andy.″
I don′t mind telling you that made me plenty excited. I hoped that Pa′d let me come along when he went after the thing what had killed those poor little goats. So I nearly choked on my cornbread when he said that about me becoming a man tonight.
″You mean I can come, Pa?″
″Let me tell you somethin′, Andy: Chupacabras is mean, and fast, and vicious. I ain′t about to assign anyone else to do this job. When you′re the boss, you gotta take responsibility, and sometimes that means endangering yourself before you put anyone working for you in harm′s way.″
I gulped. Mean and vicious? Sure, I knew that already, but hearing Pa say it just brought it all home. Still, I nodded, showing I understood. I knew Pa was grooming me to take over the Triple-J Ranch someday, and I wanted him to know that I′d be good at the job.
He reached over and patted my head. ″You′re a good boy, Andy.″
″Thanks, Pa.″ I′d long ago given up trying to correct him.
″Now, finish up your grub and let′s head outside — I got a little birthday surprise for you.″
I couldn′t stuff that chow down fast enough. What′d he get me that required going outside?
Ma saw me choking down the food, and she told me to slow down, then winked at Pa. So they were in on it together. It must be good...
It was. Oh lawd, it was.
I finished up, wiped my mouth, and stood up. Pa kind of chuckled, and then led the way out back to the stables. Our half-Aztec stablehand Smoky José stood there, holding the reins of the most beautiful thing I′d ever seen:
It was a jackalope, full-grown so that it stood over me by a few feet, but young enough to still be full of spunk. It had already been saddled up, with a gleaming new rig over its tawny hide. Its liquid brown eyes watched me cautiously as I walked up to it.
Pa stood nearby, grinning ear-to-ear. ″This here′s Sandy; her daddy was a six-time Derby champion, and I reckon she′s about the best damn jack in the west.″
Sandy, of course, had a huge rack of antlers, so I knew she was really a he, but I didn′t mind a lick right then. I ran a hand along Sandy′s side, and he twitched his tail in happiness. ″Is she mine, Pa?″
″All yours. Happy Birthday, Andy.″
I gave Pa a big hug while he chuckled indulgently, then I went back to Sandy. ″Can I ride her?″
″That′s what she′s for, son.″
I jumped into the saddle, and grabbed the reins from Smoky José. Sandy jumped forward with so much power I was nearly tossed out of the saddle, but I clung on, tightening my legs and leaning forward. That jack flew, and I bared my teeth, feeling the wind against my face and his powerful strides under me. We thundered across the prairie behind the stables until I reined him in. He obeyed and came to a stop, barely panting. I stroked his neck.
″We′re gonna be great friends, Sandy, you and me, boy.″
He gave his head a little wiggle which I took for agreement.
Finally we turned around and headed back to where Pa waited with Smoky José. ″She′s beautiful, Pa.″
″Now remember, son: She′s your jack, so it′ll be up to you to take good care of her.″
″I will, I promise.″
″Good.″
I jumped down from the saddle, and Smoky José grabbed the reins. I was going to groom him myself when Pa came forward. ″No, let José handle that. You and me, we need to talk about tonight.″
″Oh.″ Everything turned serious again. ″You mean...″
″Yep. The chupacabra.″
***
I sometimes forget that not everybody grew up on a goat ranch in the southwest, so maybe you ain′t heard much about the chupacabra. Well, here′s what you most need to know: Chupacabras are nasty critters that prey on small livestock, especially goats. They bite their victims in the throat and drain 'em dry, leaving these shriveled corpses. They′re about three feet high, with ugly gray skin, big fangs, spikes running down the back, and a smell like the deepest pit of Hell. They′re nearly impossible to kill, so the most you can hope for is to capture 'em. Fortunately they′re pretty scarce. Legends say these prairies used to be packed with 'em, but nowadays there ain′t too many left. Nobody knows why. I think that legend stuff is a load of goat manure, myself.
Chupacabras are nocturnal (they burrow into trees or caves or the ground during the day and are pretty much impossible to find), so we′d have to go out at night to track this one down. Guns ain′t no good against that leathery hide of theirs, so we′d be using the latest Winchester net-guns, the ones that fire out a weighted steel-mesh. If we could trap the thing, we could rope it and turn it over to the Federal Chupacabra Disposal Team.
Pa′s plan was: We′d lure the critter with some goat blood we′d put out around sunset, then we′d hide nearby and wait. The two goats we′d found dead this morning were near a stand of hemp we could hide behind. ″You just follow my lead and we′ll be fine,″ Pa told me.
Course it didn′t turn out that easy. Nothin′ ever does.
We saddled up long about six p.m. and rode out. We brought one goat with us that Pa rode across his saddle, mounted on top of Rex, the biggest jack in our stables and Pa′s pride and joy. It was about a half-hour ride, and I
loved Sandy more with every minute; he was strong but sweet-natured, responsive but still full of wild, young energy. He was without a doubt the greatest birthday present ever.
We found the two dead animals from this morning right where we′d left them. The sun was just setting as Pa took a knife to the live goat. I′m sorry if that disturbs you city folk, but I′d been seeing animals butchered for food long as I could remember. I didn′t like watchin′ it, but it was a fact of life to me, like death is to us who live out in the country. We honor our critters, but know a time comes for everything.
So Pa made sure some of that goat blood splashed around, then we ran. We tied Sandy and Rex up behind some trees, and I don′t mind telling you that I was sorry to leave Sandy, but we knew we couldn′t risk having our jacks around a thirsty chupacabra. We found the hemp and crouched behind it, our netguns held loose at our sides. We waited.
The sun went down, and it got mighty cold on that prairie; I woulda give anything for a fire to warm my hands at, or even a nice hot cup of Ma′s soup, but of course we couldn′t light anything. Fortunately the moon was almost full, and it rose after an hour or so, painting the prairie in silvery tones. It woulda been pretty, if we′d been there for any other reason.
I was darn near dropping off — I think it must′ve been close to midnight — when Pa gave me a little shove. I followed his nod, and my heart froze at what I saw:
Two red lights were moving through the darkness, not fifty feet away.
Did I forget to mention that chupacabras have glowing red eyes? I wasn′t sure I believed that part until I saw it just then for myself. Every hair on my body must′ve stood straight up as I watched those eyes glide towards the freshly-slaughtered goat. The moonlight picked out a small body balanced on two rear feet, spikes running down the back.
It didn′t look that threatening; I′d imagined it would be bigger. I started to wonder how dangerous this little varmint could be —
Just then Pa fired his netgun — and that′s when everything went straight to hell.
Pa′s netgun just kind of exploded in his hands, and he cried out as the net flew back over him, not forward over the chupacabra; we′d later find out the gun′s load had been sabotaged by a coward from a rival ranch. But right then that didn′t matter; what did matter was that Pa was hurt, and captured in his own net, and that hungry chupacabra was running right at me.
I screamed like a little girl then — hell, I was a little girl, and I wasn′t ashamed to admit it at that moment. I raised my own netgun, but knew the chupacabra was moving too fast, hopping up and down on those big back legs. I could smell it as it came, and I wasn′t sure if I′d throw up from disgust or pass out from fright first. Either way, I was about to be a chupacabra′s next meal —
Then something flashed between me and the monster. It was dark, and fast, and the hemp was in the way, and I couldn′t see at first what it was. I rolled to the side, got another vantage point, and realized:
Sandy had pulled away from the tree I′d loosely tied him to, and charged the chupacabra. With his head down, his antlers hit the thing right in the mid-section. They didn′t break that tough skin, but they did throw the chupacabra back, and make it turn its attention away from me.
I was so stunned I couldn′t move at first. The chupacabra took a huge leap into the air — it must′ve gone up twenty feet — and it came down right on top of Sandy. It clung to his back with its claws, its snout lashing the air near his throat, trying to reach a tender vein. Sandy bucked and spun and shrieked, but he couldn′t loosen that devil from his back.
Well, that brought me out of my paralysis; I was damned if I was going to let some filthy goat-sucker hurt my Pa and eat my jack. I found a good, heavy branch on the ground and jumped up. Behind me, Pa was screaming at me to get back, but I couldn′t do it. If Pa wanted me to be a man tonight, he′d get it.
I swung the branch, and knocked the chupacabra off Sandy, then I jumped back. I saw that Sandy was hurt — there was blood on his neck — and I prayed I wasn′t too late. The chupacabra was about to spring again, but I was faster — I fired the netgun. This one wasn′t sabotaged, and my aim was true. The net hit the chupacabra just as it left the ground, ready to leap onto me; the weight finished its move, and the net had centered perfectly on the furious critter. It screamed and struggled like crazy, but it just got itself wrapped up tighter and tighter. Still, I knew it was up to me to make sure it didn′t escape, so I yanked my rope from my belt, threw out a perfect lasso that landed right over the chupacabra′s middle, and pulled tight. It shrieked loud enough to wake the dead for at least ten counties around, but it was caught good now. I ran around it a few times, wrapping it up so clean it finally couldn′t even stand. It fell over, still keening and squirming, but the fight was over.
Pa was just untangling himself, so I knew he was okay...which left me to run to Sandy, who′d staggered a few feet off. He was bleeding pretty badly from where the chupacabra had dug its claws into him, and I felt tears spring to my eyes. ″Sandy...boy...″ It didn′t help that I knew he′d gotten those wounds while trying to save me.
Pa got himself free then, and came up to us. He got a lighter out of a pocket, and held it up to Sandy′s sides, examining the wounds while I waited, trying to stifle my sobs. Finally Pa turned to me, smiling. ″She′s gonna be okay, son. Those wounds aren′t deep. We′ll clean 'em back at the ranch, and she′ll be fine.″
I was so relieved and happy that I threw my arms around Pa. ″You did good, Andy,″ he said, giving my shoulder little pats. ″I′m real proud of you, boy.″
It was probably the best moment of my life.
***
That was a long time ago now. Pa died last year. We cremated him out on the prairie, not far from that stand of hemp. Just as the sun sank below the horizon, we saw his ghost stand up, give us all a little wave, and then walk off into the night.
I run the Triple J ranch now, just like Pa wanted. We′re still successful, and I love what I do. We haven′t had any more chupacabra attacks on our herds since that night. Sandy′s still around, although his coat′s got a lot of white in it now, and he′s not quite as fast as he used to be.
As for the chupacabra...it′s still here, too. See, we brought it back to the ranch, all trussed up, but Pa had this crazy idea. He had a cage built for it, and we′ve kept it there ever since. We found out a while back that we didn′t even need to feed it fresh goat; turns out that doggone critter likes chocolate even more. We just toss it a chocolate bar every now and then, and it′s happy. Course it′d still try to eat us if we ever let it out of that cage, but visitors to the ranch sure do get a kick out of it. Some come just to see the chupacabra. We don′t mind. I think it′s what Pa wanted.
So there you have it — the story of how me and my jack beat the goatsucker. And if that night didn′t exactly make a man out of me...well, Pa was none the wiser.
THUMPING
RACHEL TOWNS
″I SHOULDN′T HAVE LEFT THE CAR.″ That is the only thought I have been thinking for almost ten minutes as I gingerly walk on the ground. Sometimes sandy, sometimes wild tussocks, each footstep is liable to let me down on the ground and then I am afraid, I am very afraid that I will sit down and just start screaming.
The problem is the dark. There are stars above and even a moon, I am lucky enough for that. It gives me enough light so that I don′t fall over with each faltering step. But in some ways it is worse. It creates shadows. Shadows where people could be hiding, just waiting for me. I desperately want to see someone, anyone and yet the thought of meeting someone I don′t know just leads me to think of the front covers of movies like The Hills Have Eyes or Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Two movies that I have been too terrified to even watch and now just have my imagination haunting me with evil events that could be in them. This land looks like a perfect backdrop for it, quiet and alone. I can′t even see the highway anymore, or hear any cars speeding their way along it. Is it that I have gone too far awa
y or is it just that nobody uses the highway this late?
″I should have stayed with the car.″
There is a loud breathing sound and I stop for a second. I hold myself very still and just listen. It takes me a while to realize that the sound is coming from me. I stand still clutching my hands together and try and remember which way I came from.
I thought I had seen lights in the distance. A campfire or a lonely farmhouse. I wasn′t sure, but I had already been sitting in the car for about an hour after it had slowed to a stop. And then when I had left the car and started walking I just kept walking towards that light, hoping to ask if I could make a phone call or see if they could fix the car. I′d tried looking under the bonnet myself, but it hadn′t helped that it was dark and even if it had been light I would not known what to look for. My boyfriend always used to try and tell me stuff about cars and I would just look at him with an annoyingly blank expression until his voice faded away into silence. I wish I had listened now.
″I should have stayed with the car.″ I whisper again, my voice breaking into the silence of the land. There are no sounds here. Nobody but me. Nothing but me. Not even the sounds of animals. Just silence like the world ended and I didn′t even realize. Nobody is left but me.
It was stupid, so stupid to walk away from the car. Everything tells you that you always need to stay with your car and that is how they will find you. I don′t know how that would work here. An hour, a whole hour on a highway and no-one came by. Not even a truck. Not even someone that didn′t stop. I′ve never been a on a highway where I haven′t seen someone else. Not even at some ungodly hour. I′d understand if it was two in the morning or three, but it hadn′t been. It still might not be.