Trail of the Chupacabra

sudden, he heard the beating of helicopter rotors. Looking up, he saw two helicopters flying low and fast across the top of the canyon.

“Like, hey, man!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “Like, down here, dudes! Down here, dudes!” The helicopters roared over the canyon and continued on their way. Feeling ultimate dejection and complete loneliness, Ziggy lay down and closed his eyes. He wasn’t walking anymore. Curled up, he made peace with the universe.

• • •

General X-Ray and his men sat in the back of a military transport truck headed toward the border crossing. The General looked at his dejected men. Fire Team Leader Bravo stared blankly out the window. Private Tango looked at the floor. Their morale was completely gone. The General knew he’d let them down. He’d lied to them. His family wasn’t full of military heroes. His family was full of bakers. The truth was, he’d never even served in the military. He couldn’t do more than a couple of pushups and could only tread water for less than a minute. When he tried to enlist, he was disqualified for having exceptionally flat feet.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” the army doctor had said as he tried to slip a piece of paper under General X-Ray’s arches. The General had founded STRAC-BOM after reading about civilian militias in the paper.

“If the military won’t take me, I’ll start my own,” he had sworn. It was pretty easy, actually. No paperwork involved. Everything he knew about the inner workings of a military unit, he’d learned from watching old war movies. The General had seen the movie Patton about a hundred times. He knew every line by heart. The men he’d recruited to join the Southwest Texas Revolutionary Armed Confederate Border Operations Militia had bought his story hook, line and sinker. As for the men, they weren’t all that into military maneuvers — they just liked being away from their families for a few weekends a month. The camping out, drinking beer, and blowing stuff up was a bonus. Once General X-Ray had formed STRAC-BOM, he realized the one thing he desperately needed was an enemy. What’s an army without an enemy? He finally realized the desperation that his hero, General George Patton, felt when WWII ended. So General X-Ray did the only logical thing: He invented an enemy. He lived close to the border, so Mexico was the obvious choice. Besides, he didn’t have the financial resources to fly north and fight the Canadians, which he would have preferred. Also, immigration was the headline issue in West Texas at the time. Thousands of undocumented people were streaming across the border every year. He’d never really had a personal problem with it before. On the contrary, he actually liked the fact that a pickup truck full of Mexican men would knock on his door every Sunday and offer to mow his lawn for ten dollars. It saved him a lot of time, and they did a really good job. Not like the lazy dope- smoking teenagers from around the neighborhood who didn’t bag the clippings or edge the sidewalk. Still, a real general needs to declare war on somebody. The Mexicans were perfect. So Mexico it was. As a bonus, running around in the desert at night protecting his country’s border made him and his men feel important. He constantly claimed victory to anyone who would listen, even though the local press was reluctant to report his victories. Over time, he really began to feel he was doing the right and patriotic thing, but the truth was they never actually apprehended anyone. The tricky thing about a lie is that if you tell it long enough, sooner or later you actually begin to believe it yourself.

“Jesus,” the General muttered as he looked at his hopeless band of men. They sat with forlorn looks on their faces as the truck hauled them closer to the border. The simple truth was they were financially broke and had failed their last mission, losing a civilian in the process. General X-Ray felt like a complete failure. He felt tears welling up in his eyes. What would General Patton do? he thought. All of a sudden, it hit him like a piano falling from the top of a building. He wouldn’t quit! Right here, right here in front of him, he had a team of men he’d trained. They were men who would follow him. They were men who looked to him for leadership and direction. And right now, more than ever, they needed a strong leader. General X-Ray decided he would fight on. He wouldn’t quit. All he needed was a new mission, a better one than they had ever had in the past, one that would rally his troops and reclaim their honor. He was as certain of it as anything in his life. Morale was everything for an army, and morale for warriors starts with a clearly defined objective. But this operation would be for good, not evil. That was the only way to fully repair the unit’s honor.

“That’s it,” the General said as he wiped the tears from his chubby face. Operation Skinny was now in effect. He was going after Ziggy, with or without the rest of STRAC-BOM.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Before He Was King

Scraping… scraping… scraping. Rough scraping like sandpaper. Ziggy felt something abrasive drag across his cheek.  It woke him from his restless sleep. He tentatively opened one eye. A prehistoric-looking eye stared back. It blinked at him, and then something bit Ziggy’s nose.

“Nancy!” Ziggy cried as he hugged the big iguana. Nancy hissed. While iguanas do enjoy licking things and being reunited with the ones they love, they don’t necessarily enjoy being hugged. In fact, they hate it. It’s just not in their nature, hence, the squirm defense. Nancy’s heavy tail whipped against Ziggy as he clutched her to his breast.

“Baby!” Ziggy cried as he hugged his heavy, squirming lizard. Nancy fought free of his grip and started to wander away. “Like, what, man,” Ziggy said as he fought his way to his feet. Nancy looked back at him with blank eyes, then turned and continued walking slowly away from him. Ziggy followed. After a while, Nancy led Ziggy out of the twisting canyons.

“Like, right on, Nancy,” Ziggy said he looked at the open desert surrounding him. He still didn’t have any idea where he was. Nancy began lumbering down a trail. It was an ancient one that predated the Spanish. Local people had trod down the pathway for centuries, but to Ziggy, for some reason, it seemed to lead in the wrong direction. Then again, what did he know? He was lost. He set out after Nancy. Ziggy was exhausted and parched. His stride began to shorten. Every few minutes, Nancy would stop, turn around, and wait for Ziggy to catch up. It seemed hopeless. Mile after mile of rocks, dirt, and gravel spread out in front of them. Ziggy pushed on, following Nancy’s weaving back-and-forth stride the whole way. Then Nancy stopped again. Ziggy collapsed to the ground next to the big lizard.

“I’m, like, done for.” Nancy bit him. “Ouch, man! Like, easy on the violence, bro.” Nancy began scratching at the dirt, then stopped and looked right at Ziggy. “What?” Nancy scratched again at the ground. “Like, all right, man.” Ziggy reached over, and with his fingernails scratched at the dry dirt. Just underneath the surface of the soil, it was damp. Ziggy looked around him. They were sitting in the middle of a wide, dry riverbed. Ziggy started clawing at the ground with both hands. The soil became wetter and wetter the deeper he dug. Soon, he’d excavated down about a foot. Slowly, water began to seep into the hole. Using his shirt as a sponge, he soaked up the water and squeezed it into his mouth. The water was brown and tasted of mud, but to Ziggy it was the most refreshing thing he’d ever tasted, apart from icy-cold root beer. Again and again, Ziggy soaked the water from the bottom of the hole, while Nancy patiently waited. It took some time, but Ziggy finally had his fill. He was already starting to feel better. Nancy headed off again, away from the riverbed.

“Like, wait up, man,” he said as he scampered after the reptile. After a few hundred yards, Nancy veered off the trail and headed straight into the desert. Ziggy followed close behind.

“You, like, sure about this?” Ziggy asked. “I kind of, like, really dug that trail, dude. Trails, like, lead places and stuff.” Nancy ignored Ziggy and kept going. Ignoring people is one of the things that iguanas are best at. Nancy stopped beside a small cactus. Ziggy looked on as Nancy began to chew on one of the paddles before stopping and staring at Ziggy.

“Like, okay, man,” he said as he carefully removed the spiky thorns from one of the paddles. Using his fingernails, he scraped off as much of the small nodes that covered the outside of the green plant that he could. He looked at Nancy and then at the cactus. He took a bite. It wasn’t bad. A little chewy, but it was moist. Ziggy finished the paddle before having another one. Nancy began walking off again. Ziggy didn’t hesitate to follow this time.

• • •

The army helicopter sped toward Monterrey. Avery, using his old laptop from the bus, connected it to the