Night of the Chupacabra

In 1991, in the small town of Huntsville, Texas, the summer was blazing hot. Sunset had arrived, and the shift was changing at a little Mexican restaurant called Habanero’s. Javier Guererro, the owner of the establishment, was a portly man with greying hair who was taking stock of the tortillas. The manager, a tall, severe-faced man named Diego Gurrero, approached him.

“Where is your son? There is no one washing the dishes.” Chavera said.

Guererro looked up from his clipboard. “He’s late again?”

“Third time this week. He has the attention span of a Chihuahua. No respect for me or the job.”

Javier rubbed his tired eyes, as if to distance himself from his employee. “I’ll talk to him.”

“You better, or I’ll fire him myself!”

Fifteen minutes later, a young colt strolled through the door of the restaurant. He bobbed his head as hip-hop music blasted through his Sony headphones. The kid wore a black bandana around his head and sported a denim jacket. His pants left the eleastic band of his boxers exposed, despite his father telling him repeatedly to wear a belt.

Javier met him near the cash register with crossed arms. “Carlos, we need to talk.”

Carlos held up a finger as he pushed pause on his Walkman and hung the headphones on his neck.

“Diego says you’ve been showing up late to work. He thinks you’re not taking your job seriously. Is he right?”

Carlos’ eyes darted between his father and the wallpaper. “I… had to help Angelo with his homework.”

Javier raised a greying eyebrow. “You know you’re bad at lying, right? I let you have the dishwasher job because you’re my son. When you slack off, it reflects on me.”

Carlos leaned against the front desk. “It doesn’t matter when I show up. The dishes will still be there.”

“What’s your problem with Diego?” Said Javier, ignoring the comment.

“He doesn’t like that you hired me.” Said Carlos. “I can tell. He takes it out on me by giving me extra work to do.”

“No, he’s doing it because you keep showing up late. Few kids around here have summer jobs. If you don’t start showing up on time, I’ll have no choice but to fire you. Now go get started. The dishes won’t clean themselves.”

Carlos trudged to the kitchen and picked up a blue apron. He pulled it over his head and tied it at the back. From across the room, the rack of plates, forks, and knives stared him down. The dried leftovers of chalupas, burritos, fajitas, and various side dishes covered them. Carlos thought about the many homeless people they could feed with what Habanero’s threw away every day. The serving sizes were so big that many patrons couldn’t clean their plates, which meant more washing for him to do.

#

Javier walked back to his 1986 Ford F-150, thinking about how bringing up his kids in America may have spoiled them. In the bed of his recently purchased truck was a large standup mirror laid on its side, the mirror’s frame carved from cypress wood or in the Old Country, ahuehuete. The wood was dark from coats of varnish and had several strange symbols carved into the trim. In the top center of it was a deep green crystal, which gave off bright green circles in the sunlight. He grabbed the feet of the display, dragged it off the bed with care, and stood it upright on the asphalt of Habanero’s parking lot. Carrying the mirror required two sets of hands, which Javier had learned the hard way. He called Diego over to his truck.

Diego looked at the mirror with his usual half-sneer. “Are you bringing that into the restaurant?”

The tailgate made a rusty squeak as Javier lowered it. “My wife’s having a yard sale this weekend and she hates having it in the house. So I’m going to hide it from her in the back.”

“Where did you get it?”

“A medicine man in Oaxaca sold it to me for a good price. Seemed determined to get rid of it.”

“You like it that much?”

“It’s a unique piece. And well…”

“Well, what?”

“When I look into it, I think it makes me look younger.”

Diego chuckled. “Oh, really? How do you know it’s not just dim lighting?”

“You’re a real comedian. Now help me with this.”

#

Carlos smelled the pungent scent of lemons as he sprayed the tables down with sanitizer. His penance was to clean them until they shined.

“I’ll be doing the books in my office.” Diego had said. “So don’t even think about cutting out before then.”

As he wiped down the glossy wooden boards, he thought long and hard about taking a job at Burger King or the Huntsville Mall. They didn’t pay as much, but at least it would feel like his choice. But the more Carlos worked at Habanero’s, the sooner he could buy a car girls would find impressive.

Carlos heard the bell that signaled the front door opening. He turned around and saw a young chubby guy wearing a Run-DMC shirt one size too small for him.

“Hey man!” He said.

“Hey, Angelo.”

“Check it out. Lapita’s having a party at her house. Not just the seniors. College students will be there too.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s gonna be the biggest party of the summer. Let’s hit it!”

Carlos held up the balled dishrag. “I can’t leave until I’ve cleaned these tables.”

“C’mon bro! You can finish that later!”

Carlos thought about the staff entrance that went into Habanero’s back lot. By now, Diego would be occupied with number crunching the expenses. “Okay.” He whispered. “But quietly.”

They tiptoed to the kitchen and made their way past the grills, sinks, and racks of clean dishes. Near the corner was a door with the words FIRE ESCAPE spray-painted in red. Next to the door was an old water heater with a stand-up mirror leaning against it.

“Whoa, what’s that thing?” Said Angelo, pointing at the mirror.

“What’s it look like, genius?”

“Doesn’t look like any mirror I’ve ever seen.” He touched the green crystal at the top, causing it to quarter-turn counterclockwise.

“Whoa! Freaky!” Said Angelo.

Carlos grabbed Angelo’s hand. “Leave it alone! You trying to get me fired?”

“Alright, chill.” Said Angelo, jerking back his arm.

Carlos heard footsteps outside the kitchen. “Let’s go.” He whispered.

He cracked open the door and turned out the kitchen lights. As the two of them slipped away, the mirror glowed a faint red.

#

Lapita’s party more than lived up to expectations. The usual loud music and underage drinking allowed everyone to cut loose, forget about their cares, and dance the night away. Except for Carlos, that is. A stupid coin toss forced him to take on the role of designated driver. Fate was a cruel amante. On the positive side, he managed to charm a cute señorita named Emilia into going to Blue Lagoon with him. But before that, Carlos had to finish cleaning the tables at Habanero’s and drop Angelo off at his house.

Habanero’s was on the outskirts of town next to a flat four-lane highway. Carlos turned off his headlights as he pulled his 1980 Toyota Corolla into the driveway with Emilia riding shotgun and a drunk Angelo in the back. Carlo’s stomach clenched up when he saw that Diego’s Chevy C/K pickup was still in the parking lot. He must have noticed that the tables were not all clean.

“So, this is where you work?” Said Emilia.

“Yeah. My dad owns the place.” Carlos looked in the back seat. “You okay back there, Angie?”

“I told you not to call me that.” He mumbled.

Carlos glanced at Emilia and gave a crooked smile. “When he parties, he parties hard or not at all.”

“Damn right.” Said Angelo.

“Can we make this quick, please?” Said Emilia. “I want to get there before midnight.”

“I won’t be long. I just need to wipe off a few tables.”

Carlos got out of the car and snuck around to the back. He reached inside and turned on the kitchen lights. What he saw left him frozen in place. The kitchen looked like a twister had hit it. Pieces of broken dishes lay strewn all over the floor. Green splotches of cilantro erupted from the torn sacks. Splatters of red covered the walls from smashed salsa jars. He stared at the fridge in disbelief. Someone or something had gotten into the beef slabs and ripped chunks out of them. Chewed-up wooden spoons were out of their drawers, along with many pieces of silverware. The only undisturbed object that wasn’t nailed down was his dad’s mirror.

Carlos couldn’t make sense out of it. Had a pack of animals come in when he left the door unlocked? Diego should have heard all the commotion. Where was he? Carlos picked up a long carving knife off the floor. Better to not be surprised by whatever animals had made the mess. He took long, slow steps over the debris to the dining hall. As he walked among the tables and chairs, he heard sucking and scratching noises coming from Diego’s office. Without making a sound, he approached the cracked office door. The hinges squeaked as he pushed it open.

Carlos flipped the light switch and saw Diego lying on the floor beside his desk. His throat and chest were ripped open and his face wore a look of frozen terror. Crawling on top of Diego were creatures the size of large housecats. Rows of spines stuck out from the neck to the base of the tail. Their long, curved fangs sucked up the blood covering the floor. The eyes were large black pupils surrounded by rings of yellow. Carlos covered his mouth to stifle a yelp, his stomach turning from the sight of their spines twitching with every slurp.

Carlos’ right hand shook with fright until he lost his grip on the knife. Before he could catch it, the blade fell to the ground and made several clanging noises before it settled. The eyes of every creature in the office stared back at him. He heel-turned and made a frantic dash for the back door.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” He repeated aloud.

He stumbled back outside, slammed the door behind him, and locked it with his key. As he caught his breath, Carlos’ mind attempted to process what he had just seen. He felt a strong disconnect between what his eyes were seeing and what he believed was normal.

Carlos heard a scream coming from the front of Habanero’s. His heart slammed in his chest as he ran toward his car. The glow of the streetlights showed his Corolla being attacked by the little monsters with Angelo and Emilia still inside. Some of them ripped holes in the tires and scratched at the undercarriage, but mostly they were interested in the two delicious blood-sacks within the hard metal shell. Emilia screamed her head off while Angelo looked startled and confused. Carlos heard his heart pound in his chest as he tried to think of something. Part of him wanted to run away and call the police, but the only nearby phone was on Diego’s desk. Fighting them off with the knife seemed laughable, but his options were limited. The spiny demons scratched at the doors and windows, each one wanting to get inside first.

Then Carlos remembered.

He ran back to the rear entrance and saw the fire extinguisher with the black hose sticking out. He picked it up by the handle and pulled the pin from the release lever. It was heavier than he expected, which slowed his speed as he went back to the car. By that point, the creatures had torn off the Corolla’s license plate and were now trying to break the glass with their claws.

“Carlos! Carlos!” Emilia cried, shrinking down into the leather seat.

In a panic, he ran up to the nearest Chupacabra, still clawing at a shredded tire. He squeezed the lever with his left hand and aimed the hose at it. White foam covered the blood-sucking abomination, resulting in a loud “whoosh”. At random, the creature convulsed, making a long, wheezing sound before it crumpled to the floor. The others turned their attention away from the car and glared at him. As they encircled him, he gave them another spray, trying to cover as many as possible. Carlos then felt something claw at his leg. He cried out in shock and swung the extinguisher downwards. A loud clang was heard as the monster sailed across the asphalt. He continued spraying the rest, creating a symphony of gagging, choking beasts.

#

Carlos opened the scratched-up door and let out his two terrified friends.

“Dios mío! What was that?!”, Cried Emilia.

“I don’t know.” Said Carlos. “But we need to leave right now.”

“How?” Mumbled Angelo. “They ripped your tires apart.”

Despite his drunkenness, Angelo had a point. Carlos noticed the 1989 Chevy C/K parked a few spaces to the right.

“We can take Diego’s truck.”

“Where are the keys?” Said Emilia.

Carlos felt sweat forming on his hands. “They’re in his pants. Diego’s surrounded by those things. He… he’s dead.”

Emilia and Angelo both looked at him with fear in their eyes. He would have to face the beasts by himself. His friend was too damn drunk to join him inside. On the bright side, going it alone would make him look very good in the eyes of Emilia.

“There’s only one way out.” He said as he pointed at Habanero’s. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait! Can’t we call someone for help?” Said Emilia.

“The phone’s in Diego’s office and it’s crawling with those things.” Said Carlos. “Taking the keys would be faster.”

“Be careful in there, man.” Said Angelo.

Carlos returned to the back entrance carrying the almost empty extinguisher. He entered the kitchen and saw one of them treating itself to the meat in the fridge. Two others jumped on the grills and scraped the floor tiles like overgrown cats. He raised the hose and sprayed, almost slipping on the spilled food as he pivoted around. When nothing but air came out of his weapon, they had all stopped moving. After putting down the empty canister, he stopped to catch his breath.

Across the kitchen, the mirror was glowing red. The light coming from it pulsed every couple of seconds, as if it possessed a beating heart. He stared in disbelief as the reflective surface warped into a three-dimensional shape, followed by a bright flash that blinded him for a moment. When his vision cleared, Carlos saw another creature. This one had dark skin and was the size of a Saint Bernard. The beast let out a low growl and drooled onto the floor, its huge back spines rising and falling with every breath. Carlos had little time to react as it charged him, baring an enormous set of fangs. Going on nothing but pure instinct, he took the empty extinguisher and shoved it into the barking maw.

“Chew on this!” He shouted.

The creature could not bite down as its teeth scraped against the metal. Carlos cried out in pain as a full hand of long claws dug into his left shoulder, causing blood to drip down his shirt. Carlos wrestled with the hellish animal until he found himself against the stainless steel table where the cutting boards lay. He reached for the knife rack with his right hand while his left arm strained against the force of the overgrown demon dog. His shoulder exploded in pain as he gritted his teeth and tried to get his fingers around the black handle, with no success. As the beast sank its claws deeper into his flesh, Carlos almost cried out in terror, then he pushed against the knife with the tips of his fingers. Fluorescent light bounced off of the blade as it swung back and forth. When it swung back in his direction, Carlos grabbed the knife by the blade and lifted it off of the rack. The creature’s face was close enough that he could smell its rancid breath. He shifted his hand so that it gripped the black handle, then plunged the knife into the thing’s neck. A gush of black blood dripped out onto Carlos’ chest. He saw the yellow-tinged eyes roll back into the head and felt its body go limp. The fire extinguisher rolled onto the floor as Carlos pushed the huge corpse off of him.

Carlos allowed himself to breathe for a minute before crossing himself. A dizzy feeling washed over him and he realized it wasn’t just the creature who was bleeding on the floor. He opened the two cabinet doors under the sink and took out a blue plastic container. The first aid kit contained several bandages and some gauze. He wrapped them around his messed-up shoulder several times, forming a mock tourniquet. It would not be good at all if he passed out. Carlos recalled what Angelo had done to the mirror before they left. He cursed him under his breath and almost slipped on Chupacabra blood as he dashed for the source of the trouble. He turned the green crystal from horizontal back to vertical. The red glow around the mirror dissipated. He looked through the drawer and found a heavy meat tenderizer, which looked almost like a hammer. Not to leave anything to chance, Carlos swung it at the mirror, leaving iris-shaped cracks in the center. He repeated this several times so that no part of it was unbroken.

Carlos wondered how he would explain this to his father as he gathered his thoughts. The manager of Habanero’s was now dead, and the kitchen wrecked. It was unlikely his father knew that the mirror was some kind of gateway for Hellspawn, but did that excuse him? None of this would be happening if he hadn’t ditched work.

#

Carlos tiptoed back into the dining hall while trying not to move his shoulder around. The noise of the unholy creatures sucking Diego’s blood continued to come from the office. He had to somehow distract them long enough so he could take Diego’s keys. Then he remembered the music speakers hanging over the bar. They were connected to a radio/cassette player the staff liked to use during Quinceañeras and football games. And somehow they didn’t have enough money to buy a dishwasher. Carlos crept behind the bar and approached the console. He pushed the power button on the radio and tuned the dial until he heard “Love Shack” by the B-52’s. After cranking up the volume full blast, Carlos dove under one of the booth tables and waited for his chance.

The booming speakers vibrated the shelf they sat on, making the many bottles of liquor rattle against one another. The slurping was drowned out by the song’s horns, guitar, and vocals from Kate Pierson. Carlos heard a chorus of screeching and saw the little monsters run out of the office two at a time. They leapt onto the bar and tried to jump up at the speakers. Apparently if there was any song that could drive Hellspawn insane, “Love Shack” was it. The speakers, however, were too high up for them. Carlos seized his opportunity and sprung from his hiding place. At that point, Diego’s body was a ghostly white, and the exposed organs within were bone-dry. After throwing up a little in his mouth, he reached for Diego’s right pants pocket, pulled out the keyring, and unhooked it from the belt loop. A loud crash sounded, followed by breaking glass. Carlos jumped and rose to his feet. The music had stopped. Screeches echoed all around him as he ran towards the front door.

Carlos burst through to the parking lot and saw his trashed Corolla with Emilia and Angelo still inside. He bounded toward Diego’s Chevy and opened the driver’s side door. The interior was spotless and still possessed the fresh smell of a new car. He inserted the largest key into the ignition and turned it, firing up the engine. Before doing anything else, he stared into space for a moment.

Angelo’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Carlos!” He stumbled to the driver’s side window and spread his hand on it. “Can we get out of here now?”

Carlos looked back at Habanero’s through the rearview mirror. “Not yet. This is my mess, and I have to clean it up.”

“By yourself? Are you loco?!”

“Probably.”

He pushed the radio’s power button and messed with the dials, but nothing other than static came from the speakers. The most likely explanation was that the monsters chewed the antenna off of the car.

Carlos leaned his head out of the window. “Go get my Walkman. It’s still in the car. I’m going to lure them away from the restaurant. Tell Emilia to go to Diego’s office when it’s safe and call the police.”

Angelo reluctantly did what he was told and handed Carlos his Walkman with the headphones still attached. He pushed the Eject button and took out the cassette, which was “Mo’ Ritmo” by Gerardo. The tape was stopped at the beginning of track three. He put the truck in reverse and backed it close to the front. Carlos got out of the truck and, after finding a cinderblock, used it to prop open one of the restaurant’s doors. It was the most painful part of the job, since he had to use both hands to carry it and his shoulder still throbbed from his wounds. After getting back in the driver’s seat, he pushed the tape into the truck’s cassette player and prayed that it would work. He cranked the volume up as loud as it would go as the staccato guitar notes of the opening to “Rico Suave” echoed throughout the parking lot. When the screeching and howling started back up again, Carlos shifted into drive. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw them racing in his direction. They were drawn to it like rats to the Pied Piper.

The Chevy lurched forward when Carlos stepped on the gas. The truck careened out of the parking lot as Gerardo sang about his addiction to the female species. As he sped down the highway, he heard thumping sounds coming from the truck bed. He realized he had left the tailgate down and cursed under his breath, but he couldn’t stop until he was outside of Huntsville. The window behind him shattered all of a sudden, and a razor-tipped hand reached through the broken glass and tried to claw at his neck. Carlos grabbed it by the wrist, his other hand trying to keep the car steady as adrenaline surged through him. The truck’s headlights illuminated an empty field of barren soil next to the road. He yanked the wheel, and the truck rumbled onto the rocky ground. After slowing down to about ten miles per hour, he opened the driver’s side door and dove out. He tumbled through the dirt, getting the breath knocked out of him as he rolled. After struggling back to his feet, he ran in the opposite direction of the truck. When the music had faded away, he turned and looked at the pair of taillights in the distance. Few things were more bizarre than the sight of the Chevy C/K being torn apart by the creatures. Its owner was dead, but it was still a shame see such a new truck get destroyed.

#

Carlos sported a thousand-yard stare as he made the long walk back. By the time he had returned to Habanero’s, dawn was breaking. Three police cars surrounded his father’s restaurant along with what appeared to be a van from the town coroner. He wanted nothing more than to collapse on his bed and try to forget about the whole mess. Javier Guererro was speaking to the cops when he spotted him. His father ran to Carlos and embraced him.

“Carlos! Are you hurt?” He said.

“Just my shoulder.”

“Your girlfriend told me what you did. I don’t want you doing anything that dangerous again. Those coyotes could have killed you!”

Carlos let out a delirious chuckle. He would have to thank Emilia later for fudging the details.

“Dad, I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I quit.”

Javier raised a greying eyebrow. “We can talk about it later.”

“Fine by me.”

Stories of blood drained cattle spread all around Texas and even as far south as Mexico after that. They became a legend that still goes on to this day. Those who claimed to have seen them gave them the name Chupacabra, meaning “goat-sucker”.

THE END