Trail of the Chupacabra

were taken to a large farm not far from here.” There was silence on the other end of the line.

“I know the place you are at,” Mr. Montalban said after a few moments. “Stay there. I will make some calls and see what I can find out. Can you describe your two companions? The ones who are missing, so to speak.” Avery gave him a detailed description of Ziggy and Private Zulu. “Thank you, Mr. Rock Star. Once again, do not leave the Coyote’s Lair. Someone will be in contact with you. Someone who can help.”

“Thank you in advance for your kind assistance, Mr. Montalban. Now, make it snappy.”

“But of course.” Mr. Montalban hung up the phone.

“There, that was easy.” Avery returned to the group.

• • •

Back in New Orleans, Mae Mae rocked in her chair. The rocking chair was hand carved by her father. It was old, and it helped the elderly voodoo priestess to relax. Something wasn’t right with Mae Mae. She felt it in her bones. It ached deep within her. Her dreams had been crazy lately. Those two white fools. Mae Mae rubbed her temple. It didn’t help with her headache. Her granddaughter, in her little white dress, came through the purple strands of beads.

“Mae Mae, we need more whiskey.” The pretty little girl went to the back of the building.

“It’s up in there, child,” Mae Mae said in a hushed voice. “Take it all out, sweetie.”

“Mae Mae, you okay?” The little girl carried a case of liquor toward the front of the house.

“Hush, child. Leave me be.”

“Okay, Mae Mae.” The little girl looked over her shoulder with concern. The shouts from the bar in the front room grabbed the girl’s attention. “I’ll be back, Mae Mae. You just rest easy.” The girl disappeared through the purple beads.

“I’ll be here…child.” Mae Mae exhaled, long and slow. She climbed out of her rocker and went to the table. Standing above it, she tossed the bones. A concerned look spread across her face as they settled. She sat down at the table and began to deal from a deck of tarot cards. She looked at the cards, examining them closely. A worried look spread across her face. I can’t believe those two crazy honkies actually went to Mexico. Mae Mae picked up her cards and bones, and went back to her rocking chair. She was tired. She went to sleep… and prayed for them. For the first time ever, she prayed for honkies.

• • •

“Nancy… Nancy,” Ziggy whimpered in the dark.

“Where are we?” Private Zulu asked.

“Like, I don’t know, man. Nancy…”

“Quiet… I don’t think we’re alone in here.”

“Huh?”

“I think there’s someone over there.”

“Like, where?”

“Over there.”

“It’s, like, too dark, dude.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling.” A groan came from the other side of the room. “I told you so! Help! Get us out of here!”

“Nancy!” Footsteps came from outside the room. Suddenly the door opened, and a light was turned on. The brightness temporarily blinded the two men, who struggled at the bonds that held them firmly in their chairs.

“Help us, mister,” Private Zulu begged the figure slowly coming into focus in the doorway. The man, wearing a dark suit and priest’s collar, lit a cigar.

“What were you doing on my property?”

Neither Ziggy nor Private Zulu said a word. Their eyes were riveted to the sight of the massive, bloody, naked man tied to a chair on the other side of the room. A car battery rested at his feet.

“I said, what were you doing on my land?”

“We wasn’t doing nothing, mister,” Private Zulu said. “According to the General, I’m only supposed to give you my name, rank, and serial number.”

“I don’t, like, have a rank,” Ziggy mumbled.

“Do you know who I am?” the Padre asked as he blew a cloud of smoke across the room.

“No, sir,” Private Zulu answered. “May I use your the toilet, mister? I’ve got a real bad case of the green apple squirts. I don’t cotton too much to the chow down here.”

“How many others are with you?”

“Oh, a whole bunch, mister. They’re probably on their way to get help right now.” Across the room, Barquero moaned. “Maybe, if you just let us go, we can forget this whole dang thing. We was just about heading back to Texas anyway. Bygones is bygones, my granny used to say.”

A man carrying a cell phone entered the room. Cesar followed the man. He paused when he saw Barquero.

“Hello, my old friend,” Cesar said. Squinting through the blood in his eyes, Barquero struggled at his bonds and cursed through the duct tape covering his mouth.

“Padre,” the man with the phone said, “you have a call.” He handed the Padre the phone.

“Who is it?” the Padre asked. “What do you want? Really? Where? I see. I’ll take care of it. Thank you, Mr. Montalban.”

• • •

Back at the Coyote’s Lair, Avery and the remaining men of STRAC-BOM watched the naked women dance for the evening crowd. The bus was parked out back. The General had insisted, for security reasons. They all had their sombreros on for disguise, except the General. As usual, the main focus of attention in the building was on Esmeralda. The curvaceous brunette slowly spun her way around the main stage. She pulled a large revolver from the holster on her hip and playfully pointed it at random men in the audience. Her intoxicating smile virtually hypnotized customers into tipping her every peso they had on them.

“Man, that babe is finer than a frog hair split three ways.” Fire Team Leader Bravo finished his beer.

“Be careful, my friend,” El Coyote said as he placed another round of beers down on the table. “She’s a beauty, but she bites.”

“That pistol she’s packing sure looks right legit,” Private Foxtrot said.

“That’s because it is,” replied El Coyote.

“Jesus!” Private Foxtrot ducked under the table as Esmeralda swung the handgun in his direction. “It’s not loaded, is it?”

“Of course it’s loaded, my friend. What use is an unloaded gun? Lupe! Bring these men some more tequila.” Behind the bar, Lupe ignored him. “When is the man you called showing up to help find your friends?” El Coyote asked Avery.

“I’m expecting to hear from him at any moment.” Avery yawned. “You’re absolutely positive there’s no Mountain Dew for sale in this wretched town?”

“Positive, my friend.” All of a sudden, the doors to the club swung open, and half a dozen armed men burst in.

“This is a message from the Padre!” one of the cartel soldiers said. “Stay away from the farm!” A long string of automatic weapon fire immediately followed his proclamation. Everyone in the building dove for cover as glass exploded throughout the room. Avery tried to hide under the table. He didn’t really fit. The men from STRAC-BOM hit the deck. Burst after burst of gunfire continued and mixed with the screams of terrified patrons. The acrid smell of gunpowder quickly filled the room. Then, as quickly as it started, it stopped. There was total silence except for the occasional tinkling of a fragment of broken glass falling to the floor.

“Stay away from the Padre!” one of the gunmen warned.

“I kill you!” El Coyote cried out as he leapt from behind an overturned table, jumped off the top of another, and came crashing down on a gunman, driving him hard into the floor. “I kill you dead!” From behind the stage, Esmeralda appeared with her long silver revolver and pointed it straight at the Padre’s men. Wearing a tight-fitting red corset and holding the big pistol with both hands, she fired all six rounds toward the attackers, hitting two of them. The powerful rounds blew the men backward several feet. The other gunmen dove for cover. From behind the bar, Lupe emerged with a sawed-off shotgun. She jacked shell after shell into the chamber as she sprayed the area with heavy lead shot. El Coyote picked the victim of his devastating “Flying Burrito” up over his head, spun