Trail of the Chupacabra

Back in the desert, an ancient Aztec pyramid filled Ziggy’s dreams. Not a tall pyramid like the ones found in Egypt, but lower and flatter. It was symmetrical and perfectly alabaster, as if geometry and art were as one. Ziggy thought it was beautiful. He thought it was perfect. Unfortunately, there were two problems with this image for Ziggy: One, the steps of the pyramid were lined with canine creatures made of stone, and two, their eyes seemed very, very, real. They all seemed to be staring right at him. In his sleep, Ziggy began to sweat and toss. The red eyes of the beasts looked right into him. They looked right through him. He tried to get up and run, but he couldn’t move. Slowly, in his dream, the clouds in the night sky parted to reveal a perfectly full moon. It began to turn red. Ziggy fought his paralysis. Slowly, very slowly, he made it to his feet, but it was as if he was moving in quicksand. His mind was completely awake. It screamed at him to run, but his body wouldn’t respond. On the pyramid, the creatures slowly began to move. One by one, they began to climb down the levels of the pyramid. Ziggy tried with all his might to turn and run, but his limbs wouldn’t respond quickly enough. By the time he’d taken his first step, they were on him…

“Like, Jesus Christ, man!” Ziggy screamed as he woke from his nightmare. Leaping into the air, he ran around in circles and waved his hands over his head. “Shit, like, shit, like, shit, like, shit, man. I don’t, like, need this hassle!” Ziggy looked around. He was in the middle of a canyon. The sun was bearing down on him. Scattered around his feet were the tarot cards. Suddenly it all came back. The trip to Mexico, the firefight at the farmhouse…all of it came back. Ziggy sat down and tried to meditate. It didn’t work; it was too hot, and he was too thirsty. He tried again.

“Ohmmmm, ohmmmm,” Ziggy hummed as he sat in the lotus position with his thumb and index finger pressed together. “Ohmmmm, ohmmmm,” he continued, until it gradually began to feel cooler. Slowly, his thirst diminished. Little by little, his body began to relax. Progressively, his mood improved, and the pain in his bloody knees subsided. Then he heard something. At first it wasn’t clear. Then, slowly, it came into focus. It was coming from inside his head. He strained to understand its meaning. Bit by bit, it became clearer. Then, as if someone had turned the volume on the stereo up to eleven, he could make it out perfectly.

They can come in pretty handy when you don’t know what to do, the voice said. Ziggy was confused.

They can come in pretty handy when you don’t know what to do, the voice inside his head repeated itself.

That’s, like, so familiar, man, Ziggy thought to himself. Like, where did I hear that before?

They can come in pretty handy when you don’t know what to do.

“Mae Mae!” Ziggy screamed, leaping to his feet. He ran around the canyon floor, scooping up the loose tarot cards.

• • •

Outside the Mexican Army’s mobile operations area, two helicopters began to spin up their rotors. Commandos refitted with fresh weapons and ammunition climbed into the choppers. General X-Ray looked on enviously as he and his men were led to a military truck for transport to the border. He wanted one of those helicopter things, bad.

“Colonel,” General Morales said to Cesar, “what happened to your man on the inside?”

“I don’t know, General. I followed him into the tunnel myself. When I got there, it was only the body of Carnicero. Nothing else.”

“Is this man a mercenary?”

“He never asked for money.”

“Then why would he help you?”

“I guess it was personal.”

“With the Padre and him, or you and him?”

“General…”

“It’s okay, Colonel.” Morales put his hand on Cesar’s shoulder. “Look, Colonel, I know who he is. I know who he was. This fight we’re in the middle of is so upside down, you don’t know whom you can or can’t trust anymore. I promise you this, as long as he can help us apprehend the Padre, I don’t care who he is. I never will. I won’t ever come after him for things he did in the past if…if we can do this. But I need to know, can you handle him? Can you trust him right now?”

“Yes, sir,” Cesar said as he stood at attention and saluted.

“Good, then.” The General returned the salute. “Now, what about that one?” General Morales pointed at Avery, who was busy arguing with a soldier as he tried to load a case of Mountain Dew onto an army helicopter.

“I don’t know. I can’t decide if we really need him or not.”

“Should I be worried about this mission?”

“About the American?”

“No, I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about El Barquero,” General Morales said. “I don’t know what he is going to do.”

“I trust him, sir. He can help.”

“Okay.” General Morales paused for a second. “Get on your helicopter, Colonel. Bring me the Padre…dead or alive.” Cesar turned toward the helicopter, which was spinning up for takeoff. “Colonel.” Cesar looked back at his superior. “Don’t let the American get killed. I’ve got enough paperwork to deal with already.” Cesar nodded and boarded the chopper just as it took off.

• • •

Ziggy scooped up all the tarot cards from the canyon floor and stacked them neatly. For most of his life, he’d needed advice, but this time trumped all those times. Parched and weak with hunger, he shuffled the cards.

“Like, here we go, Mae Mae.” He spread the cards in a fan. Which one? Ziggy thought. One from, like, the middle? No way, totally obvious, man. Like, one from the end of the deck?  Ziggy closed his eyes and shook his head back and forth violently. The sensation would have caused most people to be slightly thrown off, but for Ziggy, it helped him to think more clearly. Something about redistributing years of built-up carcinogens locked up in his body into a more uniform pattern. Keeping his eyes closed, Ziggy reached out and randomly picked a card. Opening his eye, he turned the card over and placed it on the ground in front of him. The card was the Magician. Ziggy enjoyed tarot cards. He didn’t really understand their meaning; he just liked the colorful pictures. The Magician’s right arm was pointing upward, as if signaling a direction. Ziggy looked up. The Magician’s arm was pointing down one of the canyons. Ziggy gathered up the tarot cards, placed them in his pocket, and got to his feet. He started walking.

• • •

The helicopter Avery was in had open doors on either side. The noise was too loud for the passengers to speak. Avery wore a headset for communication. Avery offered a Mountain Dew to the door gunner. The soldier ignored him and panned his machine gun across the desert floor. Avery shrugged and opened the can. Avery took mental notes of the interior of the helicopter. He’d long assumed this would be the type of machine that the black-ops units would use when they came to arrest him. He thought it was ironic that he was now traveling in one on behalf of a foreign government.

“Once we get your laptop from the bus,” Cesar said through the intercom to Avery, “we’ll head straight for Monterrey.” Avery nodded. “I need you to narrow down the location for us,” Cesar continued. “I have a contact there who may be able to help, but after we got so close to the Padre last night, I’m worried he might decide to completely disappear. I’m relying on you, Avery. We can’t let the Padre disappear.”

Avery nodded in understanding and took out the Padre’s laptop. He opened the calendar. He wanted to take a closer look for clues.

“Door gunner,” Avery shouted into his intercom. The gunner turned to him. “If you see any vicious-looking beasts with glowing red eyes heading north toward the Texas border, I suggest you shoot them.”

• • •

Ziggy had walked as far as his bony legs would carry him. He was seriously dehydrated and beginning to mildly hallucinate. Of course, this may or may not have had anything to do with his hydration issues. Ziggy randomly hallucinated all of the time. It was payback for a lifetime of his particular chemical habits. All of a