Back Cover Copy:

​

As the summer of his sophomore year approaches, Little Hawk worries about returning to New Mexico to face a bully who has taunted him for the past several years. His anxiety soon turns to anticipation when he discovers the mythological animal known as El Chupacabra, rumored to have hunted livestock on ranches near the reservation, in years past, has returned and is once again killing cattle. His excitement is increased when Seamus’s grandfather, and Jenny’s parents allow them to accompany him home for summer break, and the kids make plans to prove the creature’s existence.

Upon arriving in New Mexico, the trio’s enthusiasm is short-lived, for a reporter covering the story of the livestock deaths is killed in a similar fashion… and her death is blamed on the creature. When the kids set out to track down El Chupacabra, they soon discover not all is as it appears.

Can David and his friends find the reporter’s true killer, and clear El Chupacabra of the crime before the once mythical creature is hunted to extinction?

​

Chapter 1
A Thinning of the Herd

 

The moon was hidden behind a large bank of clouds when Hugo Hernandez rushed out into the late-night darkness, buttoning his shirt. His wife, Amalia, still wearing her pajama shorts and tee shirt, followed close behind. Missing the bottom step, as he hurried to his truck, he stumbled; his well-worn, brown cowboy hat fell to the ground. He cursed under his breath, as he bent to pick it up, and slapped it against his leg before donning it again.

“Hugo, slow down before you hurt yourself,” Amalia called in their native tongue.

“I should already be out there, it’s my turn to watch the cattle. I can’t believe you shut off the alarm clock,” he replied, switching from Spanish to English, as he climbed into the truck.

“You’re sick, Hugo, you need your rest,” Amalia stated, neither defensive nor apologetic for having done so.

“Yes, but Mr. Douglas is going to be very angry if anything happens to the animals because I was late getting out to the field.”

“Sometimes I think he cares more about those cows than he does you or the other hands,” Amalia declared.

“Of course, he does,” Hugo said, acknowledging what he considered a reasonable business perspective. “They are his livelihood, and ours, so it makes sense that their welfare is of greater importance to him.” Amalia stepped to him, before he closed the door, and handed him a paper bag and thermos. Hugo looked at the items. “What’s this?”

“Almost an entire pot of strong coffee.”

“Coffee?”

“Uh huh, and a sandwich I made while you were getting dressed. You need to eat so your body can fight off whatever bug you picked up. And the coffee will help you stay awake.”

“I’m glad you forgot about the coffee automatically starting when you shut off the alarm,” Hugo teased. Her brown eyes narrowed in annoyance; he grinned at her, making her smile. “Thank you.” He kissed her, and ran a hand through her long black hair. “Now, go back to bed, you can still get a couple hours sleep before you have to get the kids up and off to school.”

She shook her head and stepped back so he could close the truck door. “Like I would be able to sleep while you’re out there hunting a wild animal.”

“I’m not hunting it; I’m standing watch, so it doesn’t get to the cows,” he informed her. “With a little luck, and God willing, I won’t even see anything, tonight.” He started the truck, waved good-bye, and headed down the dirt road that led to the grazing area where they had left the herd.

Amalia watched until his taillights were only two small specks on the horizon, then went back inside to pray for his safety, and wait for time to pass so she could wake the children.

                                                                         ***

When most people think of New Mexico, only the arid desert landscape comes to mind; they do not think of it as an appropriate place to raise cattle. In fact, there are many vast grasslands, well suited to this purpose, spread across the state. Randall Douglas owned over twenty thousand acres of those lands. Hugo, his ranch foreman, was heading to one such parcel.

Cresting a hill that mounted a large rock formation overlooking the pasture, he cut the engine and climbed from the truck. Walking to the edge of the rocks, he opened a plastic case and removed a small handheld monitor with a pistol-like device connected to it by a USB cable. A small transmitting and receiving dish was mounted at the end of the barrel. Hugo turned on the monitor, pointed the pistol toward the resting herd, and pressed the trigger. Hundreds of red dots populated the monitor as he panned the device across the area before him.

Mr. Douglas was a rancher, but first and foremost he was a businessman who believed keeping abreast of current technology could only benefit his business. In line with this belief, he had purchased a Radio Frequency Identification (RFID) system to allow him to accurately count his cattle, in a matter of seconds, at any time. The system required an inexpensive RFID tag be attached to an ear on each animal. When the device was activated, the pistol sent out an electromagnetic pulse, triggering the tag to transmit its digital data: in this case, a code unique to each animal. This allowed the user, via the ‘Inventory Management’ component, to add or delete tagged animals, track the location of individual or multiple tags, or count the number of tags in an area. The ‘Animal Description’ component was used to monitor and update other information such as the medical history and weight of individual animals.

This particular model had a range of over a mile, which made it perfect for situations such as counting animals at night, or finding strays that had wandered off from the herd. The device would still “see” the tag, even if the animal were blocked from view by rocks or plants.

Hugo looked at the monitor, “472” flashed in the upper right-hand corner of the screen. “Good, at least none of them disappeared before I got here,” he sighed. But as a precaution, he decided to check the count again. He wasn’t as much a fan of technology as Mr. Douglas and, while he didn’t know if it was possible, he thought the device may sometimes count some chips twice. He released the trigger, waited several seconds for the monitor to clear, then panned the device across the herd again. “472” blinked in the corner of the screen.

Satisfied the count was accurate, he was about to stow the device in its case and head down to patrol amongst the animals, when one of the dots in the center of the monitor went out. The blinking number changed to “471”.

“What the hell?” Hugo muttered. Releasing the trigger, he tapped the side of the pistol and scanned the area again. A large blank space in the center of the screen, where the disappearing dot had been, stood out in stark contrast to the remaining red dots; the herd had moved away from that place. Something had scared them, but not enough to make them stampede, which meant they believed the bull that ruled the herd could handle the threat.

Hugo tossed the scanner back in its case and scooped it up, not bothering to close it. Running to his truck, he tossed the box on the passenger seat, then pulled the shotgun from the cab mounted gun rack and headed down the slope toward the herd.

Some of the animals mooed in annoyance, as he waded through them to the spot where the disappearing dot had been. In the light of the waxing first quarter moon, a gruesome sight met his eyes. Mr. Douglas’s prized bull lay on the ground. Another animal, which seemed to dwarf the bull, crouched over it with its back to him. The entire right side of the bull’s head, upon which ear the RFID tag had been attached, appeared to have been smashed by a powerful, crushing blow. A sickening slurping sound came to him.

Horrified by what he was witnessing, Hugo dropped to his knees and bowed his head. “Father protect me,” he prayed.

The animal’s rippling muscles tensed; it turned to face him. Angry, yellow eyes glowed from a monstrous face, and blood dripped from its snarling maw. It growled as it rose up, on what Hugo had thought were its hind legs, to tower over him. This was no animal, he decided, this was a Hell-spawned demon. The creature took a menacing step, but made no move to pounce on the trembling ranch hand.

Hugo raised the shotgun. A look, he would have sworn was recognition, crossed the monster’s face. It turned away, dropped to all fours, and fled into the night. Hugo fired the shotgun after it, certain he had hit nothing more than air, then collapsed and thanked God for keeping him safe.