The Chupacabra: A Borderline Crazy Tale of Coyotes, Cash & Cartels (The Chupacabra Trilogy - Book 1)

by Stephen Randel

  “I see,” the officer replied as he pulled a card out of his pocket. “Would you mind giving this to him when he gets back? Have him call the number on the card. Like I said, nothing to be worried about. Just a few questions, that’s all.”

  “Okay,” Polly said as she took the card from the officer. “I’ll let him know.”

  “You having some kind of power issue with the house?” the officer asked as he looked into the darkened house again.

  “Yes,” Polly replied softly. “It’s out.”

  “Want me to take a look at your fuse box?” the officer asked as he pulled his flashlight from his belt. “Happy to do it. It’ll only take a second.”

  “No. That’s okay,” Polly replied.

  “You sure?” the officer said.

  “Yes.”

  “Ma’am, are you home alone this evening?”

  “Yes. Well, uh, not exactly. I mean…” Polly fumbled. A deep voice from the kitchen cut her off.

  “Officer, may I borrow your flashlight for a moment?” El Barquero called from the kitchen.

  “Please don’t,” Polly whispered as the officer stepped past her and into the darkened foyer. The officer scanned his light around the house, stopping on the group of people standing together in the darkness. “What’s going on in there?” the officer asked. Three dull thumps from El Barquero’s silenced pistol came from the kitchen. The officer collapsed. He was dead before he hit the floor.

  “Oh, my God,” Polly whimpered as she looked at the dead police officer at her feet.

  “Lock the door and get over here,” El Barquero commanded Polly as he shoved Jackie back into the parlor. El Barquero pulled the officer’s pistol from his belt and tucked it into his waistband next to Pearl’s as Polly closed the front door and shuffled back into the parlor.

  • • •

  Outside, Agent Diaz examined the darkened exterior of the house. She cautiously approached the rope fire ladder hanging from the second-floor window near the back of the house.

  “What the hell?” she whispered as she reached with her free hand to pull her sidearm out and awkwardly chambered a round. She froze in place and listened as a loud voice came from inside the house.

  “Avery! I’m coming up. I want my money.”

  “Shit,” Agent Diaz said as she turned and ran to the front door of the house.

  • • •

  Inside, El Barquero slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor. Tentatively, he tested each of the doors he found there. All of the rooms were dark and empty. Only the door on the end remained. The one with the SKUNK WORKS sign on it. He tried the handle. It was locked. He tapped on the door with his pistol.

  “Last chance, Avery,” he growled. Inside the room, he heard movement. Stepping back from the door, El Barquero kicked it with his heavy boot. The flimsy lock instantly gave way and the door swung open. Blinding strobe lights attacked El Barquero’s eyes as deafening techno music filled his ears. In the slow-motion effect of the strobe lights, he saw the portly Avery disappear out the window.

  For years, Avery had prepared his counter-assault plans. A battery-powered trip wire attached to his bedroom door sent an electric current to his collection of defensive countermeasures. They were designed to shock and confuse an invasion team, providing him sufficient cover to escape down his rope ladder. Beyond that, he didn’t really have much of a plan. Nonetheless, powerful strobe lights and blaring music were triggered first. Purple smoke bombs and strings of small but loud firecrackers followed immediately after. Batteries that Avery meticulously checked during his weekly bug sweep powered the whole system. Cutting the power to the house was standard operating procedure during a black ops assault. Avery was too smart to fall for that. He’d watched lots of spy movies.

  • • •

  Downstairs, Agent Diaz tried the front door. It was locked. She peered through the front windows of the house but couldn’t see any movement. Suddenly, she heard loud music from inside the house. The music was followed by a quick series of sharp explosions. She pounded on the door. No response. She wondered where the hell that police officer was as she stepped back from the door and raised her firearm. She fired three rounds into the lock before pushing open the heavy door. Entering the dark house, she nearly tripped over the police officer’s body in the foyer.

  “Oh my, God,” Maria said as she noticed his service pistol was gone. She spotted movement in the dark. Agent Diaz quickly went to the struggling figures crammed together in the parlor. Using her pocketknife, she cut the zip ties that restrained Kip’s hands. “Do you have a basement?” she asked as Kip pulled the tape from his mouth.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “Cut the others loose and get down there. Do you have a cell phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Call 911. Tell them a police officer has been shot and that an armed intruder is in the house. Tell them the intruder is suspected of multiple homicides,” Maria commanded as she handed Kip the knife and turned to head upstairs toward the thumping music.

  • • •

  Reaching the bottom of his rope ladder, Avery looked back over his shoulder to see the flashing strobes coming from his bedroom window. He ran toward the garage with the assassin’s money. He couldn’t believe he forgot to bring the chupacabra with him, but it was too late now. He jumped into Kip’s rental car, threw the plastic sack of money in the passenger seat, and started the engine. Throwing the car in gear, he roared out of the garage.

  • • •

  Inside Avery’s room, El Barquero ripped the strobes from their power cords and threw them across the room. With a powerful kick, he sent the blaring boom box crashing into the wall on the far side of the room, smashing it into pieces and silencing the deafening music. Pulling his black T-shirt up over his nose, he rummaged through the purple smoke–filled room as the last of the string of firecrackers went off. He quickly ransacked the room, looking for the money. He paused as he heard the sound of a car engine starting. Moving to the open window, he saw the headlights of a green sedan pulling out of the garage and into the alley. El Barquero turned and sprinted for the door. Just as he exited the room, the plaster wall next to his head exploded.

  “Drop your weapon!” Agent Diaz commanded from her prone position near the top of the stairs. She used the angle of the staircase to provide cover from the large Mexican. El Barquero dropped to his knee and fired three quick shots at her position. Agent Diaz slithered backward down the stairs to take cover. El Barquero pulled the police officer’s handgun from his waistband. He emptied the entire magazine into the top of the landing. Shards of wood exploded from the stairs and banister. Agent Diaz slid further down the staircase and covered her face with her arm to protect herself from the flying shrapnel. El Barquero dropped the empty police handgun to the floor and grabbed Pearl’s pistol. Firing wildly in the dark with both his silenced pistol and the deafening revolver, El Barquero sprinted down the hallway and past the top of the staircase landing. He ripped open the door at the end of the hall that accessed the second-floor veranda.

  • • •

  Out back, Avery poured on the gas as the rental car tore out of the alley. A car approaching from his left slammed on its brakes to avoid hitting the green sedan. Avery turned his speeding car to the right, the only way he could go with the car to his left blocking the road. Taking a hard right at the intersection in front of him, the badly abused temporary tire exploded as it clipped the curb. Avery fought to control the car but neglected to take his foot off the gas. The car skidded across the road in front of the big white house before slamming sideways into the left-hand curb. The car flipped over onto its side, sending a shower of sparks into the night sky as it ground to a halt with its engine whining and its wheels still spinning. The car came to a stop, resting on the driver’s-side door with Avery pinned in his seat.

  • • •

  El Barquero saw the green car crash and roll as he ripped through the door to the second-floor veranda. With
one long stride he crossed the upstairs porch and launched himself over the white railing. As he hit the grassy lawn below, he rolled over on his shoulder to break the impact of the fall. Coming to his feet, he ran to the overturned vehicle. Staring down through the passenger-side window, El Barquero saw the semiconscious Avery covered in scattered stacks of money.

  • • •

  Agent Diaz pushed herself up with her one good arm and bolted down the stairs toward the front door after the huge man. Coming out of the house, she saw her target attempting to open the passenger-side door of a car resting on its side. She raised her firearm and used her injured arm to help steady her aim.

  “Drop your weapon!” Agent Diaz yelled as loudly as she could. The hulking man let the car door drop and turned. Agent Diaz fired two shots at the big man, hitting him in his back. He dropped face down in the street. His body was motionless. The sound of police sirens began to build in the night air. Agent Diaz slowly approached the downed man dressed in black. Inside the car, Avery moaned in pain. Keeping an eye on the prone man, she slipped around the side of the car and viewed the trapped Avery. Through the spider-webbed windscreen, she could see the injured man was covered in bundles of bills.

  “Water moccasins,” the delirious Avery mumbled. “Get me away from the water moccasins.”

  “Be calm,” Agent Diaz instructed Avery. “Emergency vehicles are on their way.”

  “But the water moccasins. They’re everywhere,” Avery moaned.

  “Calm down. There aren’t any water moccasins.”

  “They’re all over me. Shoot them!” Avery pleaded.

  “Sir, you’re delirious. Just rest easy. Help will be here any moment. Listen,” said Agent Diaz, as the approaching sirens grew louder.

  “I need something to eat,” Avery mumbled.

  “Avery! Jesus Christ, Avery!” a shout came from the other side of the car. Agent Diaz rose and looked over the top of the car as Bennett and Kip charged down the front walk, both brandishing shotguns. Jackie stood on the porch with a cell phone, still on the line with the police.

  “Stop right there!” Agent Diaz commanded. “Stay away from that man.”

  “What man?” asked Kip as they stopped at the edge of the street. Agent Diaz walked back around the car with her pistol at the ready.

  “Oh, my God,” she muttered seeing the empty street in front of her. Just then, the first of several police cars came screeching to a halt in front of the white house. A lanky police officer bolted from the car with his weapon drawn. Agent Diaz holstered her weapon and held her I.D. aloft. “I’m Agent Maria Diaz with U.S. Customs and Border Protection. There’s an officer down inside the house. Suspect is on the move. He’s male, Hispanic, well over six feet tall, armed and extremely dangerous. We need to cordon off this area right now.” The police officer got on his radio and began to shout instructions as other police officers approached the scene.

  • • •

  The next morning, the street in front of the big white house still buzzed with activity. The police officer’s body had been removed from the home, and the yellow police tape had just been taken down. Out front, the overturned rental car had been towed away. Avery, Bennett, Kip, and Jackie all sat on the front porch steps while Aunt Polly made coffee in the kitchen with the rest of the girls. Max sat on the steps in front of his people, furiously chewing on something mysterious. Bennett tried vainly to fish it out of the persistent dog’s mouth. Kip had his long arm draped across Jackie’s shoulder. They had been up all night and were exhausted from the terrifying ordeal. In front of them, Agent Diaz stood on the sidewalk speaking with a tall senior police detective.

  “We’ve had a dozen units and a chopper out all night looking for your guy,” the detective said.

  “He couldn’t have gone far,” Agent Diaz replied. “I know I hit him twice in the back. I can’t believe he got up. I should have checked him. I can’t believe I didn’t check him,” she added despondently.

  “Well, you definitely hit him. We found an abandoned car with plates belonging to your victim in the El Paso hotel. Your guy apparently tried to burn the car out. A local resident saw it and controlled the blaze in time. In the back seat, we found a bulletproof vest. Had two slugs in the back. Also had a trunk full of narcotics. I’m willing to guess it’s the shipment you’ve been looking for. We brought in the dogs to try and pick up a scent from the vest. They lost it a few blocks away. Absolutely nothing. Your guy is a ghost. But we lost a real good man last night. We won’t stop looking until we find him.”

  “What can I do to help?” asked Agent Diaz.

  “Well, you’ve got a big load of dope and a pile of money to take back home. I’m guessing you’ve got more than a few hours of paperwork to get started on in your office. Your boss is working on getting you a flight back as we speak. Don’t worry, Agent Diaz. You did a good job. You saved those people inside. You can bet I’ll let your superiors know.”

  Down the street, the local mail carrier was making her rounds. Approaching the white house, she couldn’t help but notice the commotion.

  “Everything okay, doctor?” she asked as she handed a rubber-band-bundled stack of mail to Bennett.

  “Nothing to worry about, Mary,” Bennett replied. “Just your typical night around here when you live with a lunatic.” He nodded toward Avery.

  “Bite me,” Avery replied.

  “Take this inside,” said Bennett as he tossed the stack of mail at Avery. Avery took the mail and stormed inside. Tossing the bundle onto a table in the foyer as he headed upstairs to his office, Avery failed to notice the letter on top of the stack. It was addressed to one Avery Bartholomew Pendleton. The return address noted the letter was from the Office of the Chairman and CEO, IKEA International Group.

  • • •

  West of Austin, a bus pulled to a stop in a small town. Off stepped a dark, dangerous-looking man. As the bus pulled away in a cloud of dirty blue smoke, the large man took a seat on the bench at the stop. Across the street from the bus stop was a small motel. The stoic, hulking man patiently waited.

  After half an hour, a nondescript car pulled into the motel’s parking lot. A man got out of the car and headed into the motel office. A few minutes later, the man returned and reentered his vehicle. The car drove slowly down the parking lot and pulled up in front of a room on the end.

  The dark man rose from the bench and quickly walked across the street toward the car.

  • • •

  Somewhere in Mexico, a mangy coyote loped through the desert

  EPILOGUE

  To: Editorial Department

  Austin American-Statesman

  Dear Sir or Madam:

  The time is here. The invasion has begun. The demons are already at the gates. Escape is futile. Our defenses are impotent. Hold out as long as you can. Fight to the last man, woman, and child. Show no mercy, for none will be given. Take as many of the beasts with you as you can. I will lead the way. You wouldn’t listen to me before. Listen to me now. This is your last warning. The long, dark night of the CHUPACABRA has arrived. I’m going after them. I’ll keep you posted.

  Sincerely,

  Avery Bartholomew Pendleton