Kip had been walking through the streets of downtown Austin for about six blocks. Turning the corner on a street bustling with nighttime revelers, he spotted the quaint sign that announced he had arrived at his destination. Entering the packed restaurant, he approached the hostess, who was juggling a stack of menus and a reservation pad with a phone tucked under her ear. Waiting his turn in line, he finally reached the front of the stand a few minutes later.
“Welcome to Jacqueline’s.” The hostess smiled at Kip. “Did you have a reservation with us tonight?”
“Well, yes and no. I spoke with Jackie this afternoon, and she said to tell you that I’m Kip.”
“Oh, sure,” the hostess replied. “She has a spot at the kitchen counter saved for you. Mark,” she said to a young man wearing an apron who had just arrived at the reservation stand. “Will you take this gentleman to the chair reserved at the end of the chef’s counter and let Jackie know that Kip is here?”
“Certainly,” the young man replied. “Please follow me, sir.” The young man led Kip through the maze of tables draped with white tablecloths and boisterous diners seated in their red leather chairs. Reaching the end of a long counter that faced the busy open kitchen, he pulled back a chair for Kip. “Right here, sir. I’ll let Jackie know you’ve arrived.”
“Thanks,” Kip replied as he took his seat. Peering into the kitchen, Kip looked for Jackie. It didn’t take long to spot the pretty blonde directing her kitchen staff as she inspected three plates ready to head to the dining room. Mark approached Jackie in the kitchen and pointed in Kip’s direction. Her blonde ponytail whipped behind her as she spun around from the plates she was reviewing, and she smiled from ear to ear when she spotted Kip. Motioning for someone to take her place, she disappeared from view for a moment before bounding out of the kitchen door and quickly making her way to the end of the counter. Kip stood and caught Jackie as she leapt into his arms.
“So good to see you!” Jackie said, practically choking Kip as she hung from his neck.
“Look at you!” exclaimed Kip as he set her down. “You look fantastic.”
“So do you, Kipper! I’m so glad you made it.”
“Me, too. Look at this place,” Kip said, motioning toward the packed dining room. “This is amazing.”
“Thanks, man!” Jackie replied with a smile and a playful punch to Kip’s shoulder. “It’s pretty nuts on a Friday night, but I love it. This is kind of rush hour, but it’ll settle down in a while and we can catch up. You don’t need to be anywhere soon, do you?”
“Nope. Bennett lifted my curfew tonight,” he joked.
“How is Bennett? He drops by occasionally, but I never get to spend enough time with him. You have such an interesting father. He just cracks me up.”
“Well, he’s been sick lately, but you’d never know it.”
“Yeah, I heard. Don’t you worry—he’s as tough as barbed wire and way too ornery to let anything slow him down.”
“That’s the truth. Now, you get back to your kitchen and come visit when you can.”
“Did you eat yet? You better not have,” Jackie said, shaking a finger at him in jest.
“Absolutely not. I’m dying to see what you learned overseas all those years. You know, I’m practically a New Yorker these days, and I know what the good Italian stuff is.”
“Well, I don’t normally serve yankees here, but I’ll make an exception for you. I’ll have someone bring you a menu.”
“Actually, why don’t you just put something together for me? Chef’s choice.”
“Do you drink wine, or are you still just a beer and bourbon man?”
“I love wine.”
“Great! I know exactly what to make for you.” Jackie hugged Kip one more time before spinning around and hustling back to her kitchen.
A few minutes later a bottle of wine appeared. It was closely followed by a series of four magnificent dishes. After the last empty plate was removed, he returned to his glass of wine and watched as the restaurant began to empty of its patrons. When the majority of the room was cleared and the frenetic pace of the kitchen and wait staff had slowed, Jackie emerged from the kitchen with an empty red wine glass.
“Jackie,” Kip gushed. “That was amazing.”
“I’m glad you liked it, big boy. Hope the selections worked for you.”
“Absolutely. I particularly liked the pasta with the anchovy and garlic sauce.”
“That was always one of my favorites in Venice,” Jackie said as she poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle.
“How’d you know Brunello was my favorite?” Kip asked as he clinked glasses with Jackie and took another sip.
“Just a hunch. I’m so glad you could come by. Sorry it was so busy earlier.”
“Hey, no problem. I enjoyed the chance to watch you work. You really have a passion for it.”
“I do,” Jackie said as she sipped her wine. “Now, tell me about you. How long are you back for?”
“Well, my return ticket is scheduled in a few weeks, but I may change it. I really want to spend some time with Bennett and you, if you can find some time.”
“Absolutely. Sunday nights are slow, and I close on Mondays. Maybe I can sneak out early Sunday night and we can catch a movie for old time’s sake.”
“Only if it’s subtitled,” Kip laughed as he raised his glass in a toast. For the next hour, the two spent time catching up and reminiscing about the old days as the restaurant staff readied the place for closing. Jackie howled in laughter as Kip replayed the events of the bingo hall earlier that evening.
“She actually fired her gun?” Jackie laughed as Kip finished his story.
“Swear to God. Man, I hope they put that little hellcat in solitary for everyone’s safety.”
“So you came with Polly? Can I give you a lift home later?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind.”
“No problem. In fact, I insist. Let me go check with the staff and make sure everything is ready for close, and maybe we can pop over to Sixth Street and grab a nightcap first.”
“I’d love that.”
After Jackie assured herself that everything was in order with the staff, she grabbed her purse and headed down the block with Kip to the still bustling Sixth Street. They made their way into a small jazz club and continued laughing about old memories over another glass of wine. After a while, they both decided they’d had a long day and should head home.
“I always loved your old home,” Jackie said as she navigated through the streets of Austin. “I’m so glad your father didn’t sell it when your mother passed away.”
“Never any risk of that. Bennett will die in that house before he sells it. The only thing he loves more is his dog.”
“How’s Avery? I haven’t met him, but when Bennett comes by the restaurant he’s usually grumbling about him.”
“Oh, he’s pretty weird, but mostly harmless, I think. He and Bennett fight like an old married couple. They make an unlikely pair, but Bennett swore to his second wife that he’d take care of her son after she died, and the one thing you can count on Bennett for is to keep his word. You’ll have to meet him sometime. It’ll crack you up.”
“So, we’re on for a movie Sunday?” Jackie asked as she pulled to the curb in front of the big white house.
“You bet. I’ll swing by the restaurant, and whenever you can sneak out, we’ll go,” Kip answered as he wondered if he should kiss Jackie goodnight.
“Can’t wait,” said Jackie as she leaned over gave Kip a quick kiss on the lips. “See you then,” she said with a smile. Kip watched Jackie pull away in her car as he mentally kicked himself for leaving Austin in the first place.
• • •
Back along the Mexican border, the Southwest Texas Revolutionary Armed Confederate Border Operations Militia was locked and loaded and ready for Operation Land Shark to officially commence, albeit a few hours later than the General would have liked. The men had regained their confidence a
nd swagger after the disaster of the ATV training exercise earlier that evening. Private Zulu had painted the bright orange ATVs with ribbons and stripes of black shoe polish. It didn’t exactly make them blend into the desert terrain like General X-Ray had hoped.
“But at least it makes ’em look meaner,” the private had noted.
The men of STRAC-BOM had loaded their gear and weapons onto their vehicles, and with a flourish of his riding crop, the General ordered his men to start their engines. The General pulled his leather goggles down from the top of his tanker’s helmet and secured them firmly in place over his eyes. After kick-starting the heavy dirt bike to life, he led the convoy of vehicles into the desert, only to return to base a few minutes later because Private Foxtrot had forgotten to lock the door to the HQ. Once the base was secured, they moved out again.
Progress was slow and bumpy. General X-Ray’s stubby legs stretched as far as they could in order to reach the ground from his seat on the motorcycle, but they just wouldn’t make it. He had to ride straddling the dirt bike’s gas tank. His legs looked like a set of children’s training wheels as the General tippy-toed along while he struggled with great effort to keep from tipping over while navigating the broken and rocky terrain. The first phase of Operation Land Shark was for the men to make their way several miles north to Rally Point Uno and establish their first camp. The General shouted encouragement to his troops, but they couldn’t hear a word he said over the noise of the ATVs. Slowly, the convoy of vehicles began to separate. After an hour of slow progress, the General, noticing his men were scattered, brought his dirt bike to a halt and waived his riding crop in a circle above his head in an attempt to rally his troops to his position. Realizing that they couldn’t spot his position in the dark, the General grabbed the small handheld flashlight attached to his belt and clicked the light on and off several times in their direction. One by one, the ATVs arrived at his position and killed their engines.
“I want Fire Team Leader Status reports starting with Alpha Team,” the General instructed.
“Alpha, present and accounted for.”
“Bravo, ditto.”
“Charlie, ditto, ditto.”
“Excellent,” the General replied as he consulted his marked- up topographical map and flip-top compass with his flashlight. “Rally Point Uno is on top of this ridge and to the east, about four hundred meters. Follow me and we’ll pitch tonight’s base camp and begin surveillance for illegal aliens.”
The men fired their machines back to life and gingerly made their way along the ridgeline, passing a cut in the ridge with a sloping path to the valley below. Just to the east of the cut they parked their vehicles and began setting up Rally Point Uno base camp.
“Fire Team Alpha!” the General barked. “I want you to assemble the tents over there. Fire Team Bravo, set up the dining fly, mess hall, and command center here. Fire Team Charlie, take your entrenching tools and begin constructing the surveillance foxholes over there about twenty-five meters. Dig them right on the edge of the ridgeline, and I want them at least three feet deep.”
“Dang, general,” Private Zulu replied dejectedly. “How come we got to dig the foxholes? This dry ground is an s.o.b. to hack through.”
“Stop your whining, private,” the General reprimanded him, “or I’ll have you dig the latrine, too. Once the other Fire Teams are finished, they’ll help you with the perimeter defenses.”
The men went to their assigned tasks, and in short order the olive drab canvas pup tents were erected and the command center was in place. Fire Teams Alpha and Bravo joined the effort to finish the three foxholes on the edge of the ridge.
“Okay, men,” the General began, “take your positions in the foxholes and watch for movement. If you see anything, radio me in the command center, but no loose chatter on your walkie-talkies. And don’t forget to check your weapons and ammo.”
For the next four hours, the Fire Teams scanned the valley below, hardly able to see a thing in the darkness. The sounds of the desert played tricks with their minds, particularly the occasional flutter of bats wings over their heads as the nocturnal creatures chased their nightly prey of insects.
“You see anything out there?” whispered Private Zulu.
“Nope,” replied Fire Team Leader Charlie.
“Kind of creepy out here. I sure don’t like it.”
“It ain’t that bad. Could have to share a foxhole with the General.”
“I don’t know,” said Private Zulu, taking a sip from his canteen. “Lots of unexplainables out here.”
“Unexplainables? I don’t even think that’s a word.”
“Whether it is or ain’t, this desert got some weird things in it.”
“Like what?” Fire Team Leader Charlie asked as he took the canteen from the private and drank.
“Like werewolf coyotes.”
“Well, I bet there’re plenty of coyotes out there, but not werewolves. You watch too much cable.”
“Oh, no, they got them werewolf coyotes in this part of the country. Or vampire coyotes, I can’t keep ’em straight. Either way, they’ll kill you right dead and eat your bones in a heartbeat unless you shoot ’em with garlic bullets.”
“So how many garlic bullets did you bring with you?”
“None.”
“Well, I guess you’re out of luck, partner. I’ll be sure to let your family know you died heroically.”
“That ain’t funny,” Private Zulu said as he snatched his canteen back. “Hey! What was that?”
“What was what?”
“Down there,” the private said, pointing to an area straight below the cut in the ridge. “Something moving.” The two men stared intently at the area for a few minutes.
“Could be something,” Fire Team Leader Charlie said. “Bet it’s just some kind of animal.”
“See! There it goes again. Call it in! Call it in!” implored Private Zulu.
“Okay, but if it turns out to be nothing and the General has a conniption, it was your idea,” the Team Leader said as he reached for his walkie-talkie. “Command center. This is Checkpoint Charlie. Do you read? Over.”
The noise of his walkie-talkie startled General X-Ray so much he dropped Private Zulu’s confiscated handheld videogame, on which he was busy playing Zombie Slaughter 5.0.
“Checkpoint Charlie, this is Command Center. Over,” the General replied.
“General, Private Zulu thinks we got something down here. Might just be animal movement but we aren’t sure. Over.”
“Hold your position, Fire Team Leader Charlie,” the General said as he shoved the videogame back into his pocket. “I’m on my way. Over.” The General leapt from the command center and double-timed his way to their position. “Situation report,” he said as he crashed into the cramped foxhole with his men.
“Down there, sir.” Fire Team Leader Charlie pointed. “A pretty good ways below that cut in the ridge.”
“I don’t see anything,” said the General.
“Definitely something there, general,” replied Private Zulu.
“Okay, steady, boys,” the General said as he readied the flare gun he retrieved from his belt. “Aim your weapons and prepare to fire.” Fire Team Leader Charlie looked down at the pellet gun and wrist rocket on the ground beside him. He decided on the pellet gun because he didn’t have time to find a suitable rock. Private Zulu shouldered his single-shot, twenty-two-caliber rifle and aimed in the general vicinity of the movement.
“Launching flare!” the General announced with gusto. With a whoosh, the flare arced a small, circular, flickering red flame up and over the valley below. A few seconds later, the flare ignited and illuminated the terrain of the valley as it slowly floated back down from the desert sky.
A small grey coyote lifted its head from its meal and froze in place. Sensing danger, it sniffed the wind. Grabbing one more bite from its prize, the coyote slunk back deeper into the shadows of the valley and slipped away into the night.
; “Did you see those eyes?” Private Zulu cried in terror. “They were glowing! Oh, Jesus! Oh, Jesus! It’s got to be one of those vampire coyotes!”
“A what?” the perplexed General asked.
“Don’t get him started, sir,” Fire Team Leader Charlie replied. “Just your garden-variety coyote eating something.”
“Not with eyes like that!” the trembling private replied.
“I don’t care what it was,” the General said as he picked up his walkie-talkie. “We’re going down there to recon the area.” The General keyed the “Talk” button on his walkie-talkie. “Fire Teams Alpha and Bravo, this is General X-Ray. I’m taking Fire Team Charlie and Private Zulu with me to reconnoiter the valley. Over.”
“Roger, sir,” Fire Team Leader Bravo replied over his walkie-talkie.
“Jesus, general,” Fire Team Leader Alpha responded. “That flare scared the pants off us. Give us a heads-up next time.”
The General, Fire Team Leader Charlie, and the extraordinarily skittish Private Zulu made their way down the cut and approached the area where the coyote had been feeding. The remains of the two Mexican drug couriers, Ernesto and Victor, had been fed upon for several days. Their bodies were hardly recognizable as human. Only the presence of their shoes and clothes indicated that they were ever human at all.
“Help me, Lord,” cried Private Zulu. “No regular coyote can break a man up like that. We got to find some garlic fast!”
“Compose yourself, private!” the General commanded. “Just a couple of illegal aliens who snuck into our beloved homeland that got what was coming to them. I don’t know how they met their fate, but we’re taking the credit. STRAC-BOM: two, Mexico: zero!”
The General returned to the top of the ridge with Fire Team Leader Charlie and Private Zulu and gathered up the remainder of his troops. He congratulated his exhausted men on Operation Land Shark’s glorious and overwhelming first victory against the scourge of illegal immigration. Sensing the sun was coming up soon, the General suspended the evening’s surveillance activities and ordered the men back to the base camp. The dusty and tired men literally fell into their sleeping bags, and within seconds the snores of the soldiers of STRAC-BOM filled the early morning desert sky.
The Chupacabra: A Borderline Crazy Tale of Coyotes, Cash & Cartels (The Chupacabra Trilogy - Book 1) Page 11