The Chupacabra (2 page)

Vanessa found the sun blinding and dived into her bag for her sunglasses. When she looked up again, Nikki had moved a few steps ahead and appeared to be talking to Frida. She couldn't make out what they were saying. Were they speaking English or Spanish?

Vanessa hung back a little more—she was tired and it was nice to have a moment to herself. The airport had been stressful, but it was great to be here. She loved the intense sunshine, the feel of the heat on her skin, but she was definitely feeling a bit lightheaded too.

Vanessa's eye was caught by a young woman in jeans and a white shirt walking slowly toward her.

She looked quite ordinary at first, but then Vanessa noticed something strange. No, she wasn't walking, exactly; she was gliding, floating along a couple of inches above the ground. Vanessa blinked. The heat must really be getting to her, she thought. She was about to call out to Nikki but her voice caught in her throat. OK, the woman was not just floating now, she was also wearing … was it a coat of feathers? And a mask, maybe—something with a beak, anyway. What on earth was going on?

Vanessa ran forward and grabbed Nikki by the elbow. Nikki and Frida both looked around.

“What's wrong?” Nikki asked. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“Look!” said Vanessa, pointing. But the bird woman had disappeared. “I could have sworn I
saw … a giant bird. Or … I mean, maybe a woman dressed as a bird.”

Nikki laughed. “Oh, Vanessa! That imagination of yours.”

Friends often told her that she was fanciful. “Full of notions,” her father called it. But Vanessa knew better. Sometimes she really did see things that other people couldn't.

“No, no, I really did …”

Frida said nothing but gave Vanessa a long, cool look from under her heavy black eyebrows.

“It was probably someone in fancy dress,” said Nikki soothingly. “Maybe there's a festival on. It is Mexico, you know.”

Yes, it was Mexico, and it was a long way from Dublin. A small window of anxiety opened up in Vanessa, but she said nothing.

“Come on, girls,” called Joseph in his Galway accent. “The limo's waiting.”

And it really was a limousine—long, black, and sleek, with a chauffeur in another uniform and a peaked cap. Nikki thought it looked beautiful, but it reminded Vanessa of a funeral car. She gave a little shudder as she climbed in.

Where Chupacabra attacks have happened, the authorities have tried to attribute the killings to known predators such as dogs, foxes, hyenas, or coyotes. But in most cases there have been puncture wounds in the necks of the animals through which the blood has been drained, and this has never been explained satisfactorily.

The road they took from the airport was extremely busy. Trucks spilled over with fruits and vegetables, and flatbed trucks were piled high with old fridges
and TVs. Most of the cars were so old that Vanessa was amazed they could move at all.

“Look at that one, Nikki,” she said, pointing to a car with no windscreen. “Its hood is tied down with string.”

“There's a swanky car, though,” said Nikki. “It's got tinted windows.”

“Drug dealer,” said Joseph. “Or maybe a politician. Either way, it'll be bulletproof.”

Vanessa and Nikki exchanged glances. Bulletproof!

“Coke cheap—almost free!” Vanessa heard someone shout when they stopped at a traffic light. It was a boy, holding bottles up to the car windows as he strolled between the cars. He looked about ten, the same age as her younger brother, Ronan, and yet there he was, out on the street dodging traffic and trying to earn some money.

Most of the houses they passed were only half built, with rooms open to the streets. The girls pointed things out to each other: an old man sitting in an armchair, strumming his guitar, in the middle of the pavement; a toddler playing with pots and pans on his own, too close to the road. It was all so strange and very different from Ireland.

“How much longer to the ranch?” Vanessa asked Nikki as they drove along.

“Another three hours,” Joseph chipped in.

Three hours! It had been a very long day already.

“Have a sleep, maybe,” Joseph suggested.

It was all too exciting to sleep, though. Nikki plugged her earphones into her iPod and Vanessa pulled a folder out of her backpack.

“You're not going to study, are you?” Nikki asked.

“You know me. I just want to brush up on my Spanish verbs,” Vanessa joked and then laughed at the expression on Nikki's face.

Nikki grabbed the folder and read the heading.

“
El Chupacabra
. Oh, so it is Spanish after all. What does it mean?”

“It roughly translates into English as ‘the goatsucker,'” Vanessa said with great emphasis on the words.

“Eeuugh!” said Nikki. “That's disgusting. What on earth are you reading?”

“Oh, cryptozoology,” said Vanessa casually.

“What?”

“It's the study of cryptids … kind of like weird animals. The Loch Ness monster is one. Remember, my mum was always interested in them.”

“Oh, sorry,” said Nikki. “Your mum …”

“It's OK,” said Vanessa. “I like to remember her. This is one of her folders that I found in the attic. It's about a Mexican cryptid—the Chupacabra. It kills its prey by…”

“On second thought,” Nikki said quickly, “I don't really want to know, thanks, Vanessa.”

There have been many eyewitness accounts of the Chupacabra. While they vary in detail, most describe a creature with four legs. It can walk upright or jump on two legs when it chooses. It is fast and agile and prowls at night.

The entrance to the ranch was marked by an impressive set of gates. Grand enough to lead to a French chateau rather than just a farm, Vanessa thought. The tops of the gates were elegantly arched and the word
Martinez
was inset in wrought iron.

“What does Martinez mean?” asked Vanessa.

“I'm Frida Martinez.” It was the first time she had spoken to Vanessa. Her voice was throaty and she was very abrupt.

Vanessa started. “Oh, I see,” she mumbled.

“My grandfather came here over one hundred years ago from Barcelona. This is the biggest ranch in the area. Six thousand acres.”

The odd thing about the entrance was that the gates stood alone. There were no railings or fences running from them, no barbed wire as there would be on an Irish farm, only the huge gates standing in glorious isolation.

The car swung through the gates and Vanessa and Nikki squeezed each other's hands in anticipation. A cloud of red dust rose up around them as the tires hit a pothole and spun free.

Tall trees lined the driveway for the first few hundred feet, but they soon dwindled out, and it became more of a dirt track than a drive. Around them the flat open fields stretched into the distance, dotted with cacti and small trees with gnarled trunks.

At last a low, sprawling stone house came into view, shimmering in the afternoon heat. It was old
and very beautiful, with huge stone pillars and a veranda.

Vanessa got out of the car, trying to pack up her bag at the same time. She was startled when a pack of dogs of all shapes and sizes appeared from behind the house and ran toward them, barking noisily.

There were two spaniels with bloodshot eyes, a huge Alsatian, and two small terriers with ridiculously short legs. But Vanessa's eye was caught by a weird-looking dog that was standing apart from the pack. He was black and entirely hairless. This one stood absolutely immobile, looking directly at Vanessa, his ears pricked. They were large triangular ears, more like a bat's ears than a dog's, and far too big for his small head. His body was muscular, and his broad shoulders were tensed like a boxer's.

Vanessa was just about to say something to Nikki about the dog when a girl emerged from the house, shouting at the dogs in Spanish.

“Vanessa, that's my cousin, Carmen!” said Nikki.

‘”I've seen a photo of her. Isn't she pretty?”

Carmen's jet-black hair was cut in a straight fringe and was tied in two long plaits. Her clothes looked expensive: a white linen dress and leather sandals. She
was way too dressed up for a dusty ranch, Vanessa thought.

At the sound of Carmen's voice, most of the dogs had dropped to the ground and rolled onto their backs for a tummy rub. It was hard not to be impressed. The hairless dog remained standing, however, still as a garden statue, watching Vanessa.

“You're very welcome, Nikki and Vanessa,” Carmen said in perfect English, putting out her hand like an adult.

At least she was being friendly. Where was the brother, though? Vanessa wondered. Armado, Nikki had said he was called. She liked the name.

“It's four o'clock,” Joseph said as they entered the house. “Siesta time.”

“I'll take you to your bedrooms and then to the kitchen for some hibiscus water if you like,” Carmen offered.

Bedrooms? That was disappointing. They had hoped they would be sharing.

The first room was dark and cool, but when Carmen opened the shutters, the sunshine streamed in and Vanessa could see horses grazing in the fields outside.

“The other bedroom is just next door,” Carmen said, opening double doors that led outside to a terrace with a small table and chairs. Farther along, an identical set of double doors opened into the next bedroom. At least they were right beside each other.

“My bedroom is just there.” Carmen pointed to another door farther down along the terrace. “I'll show you around the house later, and my brother Mado will show you the ranch.”

Vanessa grinned at Nikki. Mexico was great, and she really liked what she had seen of the ranch so far. Aunt Frida was not exactly friendly, but Carmen seemed perfectly nice. Hopefully Armado would be all right too. She surprised herself by letting out a sigh of relief.

“Tired?” Carmen asked her.

“Beyond tiredness, I think,” Vanessa replied, “and parched.”

Vanessa and Nikki followed Carmen through a warren of corridors.

“I'll take you to the kitchen for a drink and to meet Izel. She's our cook,” Carmen said over her shoulder.

Vanessa raised her eyebrows. Imagine having your own cook! It was a different world.

On 9 May 1996 at 2:00
A.M
. in Sinaloa, Mexico, the Espinoza family saw the Chupacabra. It was about 3 to 4 feet high with scaly skin, clawed hands, red eyes, and a row of spines from the skullcap down the back. Mr. Espinoza said that “it mumbled and gestured.” Two of the children said it “smelled like a wet dog.”

In the end Vanessa was too excited to sleep that afternoon. She got up from her bed and took out her charcoals and sketch pad. She tried to draw what she imagined the Chupacabra looked like—the ridgy
spine, the claws, the raw gums and pointed teeth.

After a couple of attempts she abandoned it and sketched the Loch Ness monster instead. Nessie was a pleasure to draw, and the backs of Vanessa's copybooks in school were filled with doodles of her.

She called to mind the graceful curve of Nessie's head and her trusting, seal-like eyes. It would be hard to make a malformed, ugly dog with blood-sucking tendencies look cute.

Vanessa opened her wallet and took out a small picture of her mum. The right-hand corner was curled from being held so often, and there was a tiny tear on the bottom that she needed to repair sometime. The photo had been taken years before her mother got sick. Vanessa missed her so much.

She smiled sadly at the picture and whispered, “Oh, Mum, I wish you were here. You probably wouldn't like Frida either. She is unfriendly and cold and … and …”

Vanessa stopped, realizing that she could not quite put her feelings into words. There was something more than that wrong with Frida. But what exactly was it?

A gong sounded in the distance. A gong? Could
it be for dinner? She checked her watch. It was nine o'clock, much later than she had imagined. Her dad had been right when he said that they ate at funny times in Mexico. She'd still have time to wash her hands and face, surely, but probably not to change her clothes.

Everyone was sitting at a huge table when she finally arrived in the dining room. Everyone including an amazing-looking boy, a bit older than she was, she guessed. This had to be Armado.

He said very little when Joseph introduced them. Vanessa hoped she could sit beside Nikki, but Carmen was on one side of her and Frida on the other. The only space left was beside Armado.

The dining table looked very formal, set with white china and silver cutlery. On every plate a starched white napkin was curled neatly inside a napkin holder. Vanessa thought it looked very elegant—she certainly couldn't imagine her brothers at this table. No muddy tracksuits and T-shirts here. Everyone in the Martinez family had changed for dinner. Vanessa looked down at her own clothes, tired and crumpled from the journey. At least Nikki looked just as bad as she did. Surely they didn't do this every night?

They all bowed their heads while Frida said grace in Spanish. The four-course dinner was served by a young girl who kept her eyes averted no matter how friendly Vanessa tried to be.

Silently they ate parcels of deep fried something-or-other on mounds of salad leaves. Vanessa nibbled at the edge of the parcel hoping that it wouldn't be too spicy. Her dad had warned her that they used chilies in every dish in Mexico.
Right again, Dad
.

“This is a local dish,
enchiladas mineras
,” Frida announced suddenly. “The next course will be Aztec soup, followed by sweet roasted chicken stuffed with figs and a dessert of hibiscus flower ice cream.”

It was like being in a restaurant where the chef comes around to explain the dishes. But Vanessa knew that Frida hadn't been slaving in the kitchen all afternoon. They had met Izel, the cook, earlier, and she had been busy preparing dinner—no sign of Frida then.