“He saw right through your disguise, didn’t he?” Bobby says as I climb up the ladder.
He and Michelle, along with my dog Kenny, are sleeping over in the tree house, only not really. We have sleeping bags, snacks and other provisions to hold us through the night of spying on Mr. Calaveras.
“Hard to believe, I know,” I tell Bobby. “I thought I did a pretty good job of changing my appearance, but he knew it was me. It’s like he could smell me or something.”
“Maybe you should have used deodorant,” says Michelle sarcastically as she looks up from surfing the web on her tablet.
“What did he say?” asks Bobby.
“He warned me stay away and mind my own business.”
“Then we should listen to him,” Bobby says. “We need to stay away and mind our own business, like he said.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is,” says Bobby.
“But what about the dogs?” I ask him as I look down and pet Kenny.
“What about them?” he says. “They aren’t our responsibility. They aren’t even our dogs.”
“Well, guys,” I say, “Kenny could be next … or maybe your pets.”
“Guys …,” Michelle interrupts.
I ignore Michelle and continue, “We must stop the Chupacabras. If we don’t … who will, Bobby?”
“Why does it have to be us, Vincent? Why not let the grown-ups handle it?”
“Because they won’t believe that the Chupacabras is real.”
“Guys …,” Michelle tries again.
“We’re just kids, for crying out loud!”
“GUYS!” Michelle finally screams to get our attention. “I think I found something.”
“What did you find?” I ask her.
Michelle motions for us to look at her tablet. She has come across an article that reads “HUNT FOR THE CHUPACABRAS” in bold letters. Below the headline is a photograph of a bearded man in his late sixties wearing circular glasses. He is identified as being Professor Mark Glazer.
“Who is Professor Mark Glazer?” asks Bobby.
“Per the information,” Michelle explains, “he was an anthropology professor at a border college, and one of the foremost authorities on the study of folklore.”
“What do you mean was?” I ask her.
“He got killed ten years ago, in the Puerto Rican rain forest.”
“Puerto Rico?” I ask. “What was he doing there?”
“He was trying to find proof that the Chupacabras exists.”
“So, he’s dead?” asks Bobby. “What good does that do us?”
“Look at the second picture, in the lower right corner,” Michelle orders.
There is a group photo of five men and a woman, dressed as if they were going on safari. We see Professor Glazer, but it is the very familiar looking man standing next to him that catches our attention.
“Is that Mr. Calaveras?” asks Bobby.
“It sure looks like him.”
“It is him,” Michelle says. “Look at the names listed. One of them is Joaquín Calaveras. Apparently, he was an adjunct professor at the same college and was part of the expedition.”
“Joaquín Calaveras?” asks Bobby. “Is that Mr. Calaveras’ first name?”
“It would seem so,” I say.
“So what happened?” asks Bobby.
“Things didn’t go well,” she says. “The expedition got lost while searching for the monster in the rain forest of Puerto Rico. The local authorities sent out search parties to look for them, and only Joaquín Calaveras was found alive, barely breathing. He had a bite mark on his neck and had lost a lot of blood.”
“Mr. Calaveras has a bite mark on his neck,” I inform them.
The pieces are starting to come together.
“Does the article say if Mr. Calaveras explained what happened?” asks Bobby.
“He said that his party was attacked by a pack of chupacabra. The local authorities didn’t believe him, of course. They were convinced that the attack must have come from wild dogs and that in his panic, Mr. Calaveras had become confused.”
“What happened to him after the attack?” asks Bobby.
“Nobody knows,” Michelle says. “Mr. Calaveras disappeared from the hospital, and never returned to the college. It was like he vanished off the face of the earth.”
“Except that he didn’t vanish off the face of the earth,” I remind them. “He showed up here, feeding on the dogs in our neighborhood.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” says Michelle.
“If either of you have a better explanation I would love to hear it.”
Bobby and Michelle stare at each other, but say nothing. Just then Kenny starts growling.
“What’s the matter with Kenny?” asks Bobby.
Kenny darts toward the entrance of the tree house, continuing to growl.
“I think I see something moving down there,” says Michelle.
I use my flashlight to scan the ground below us but see nothing.
“What are you seeing, boy?” I ask him.
I aim the flashlight at the ladder we use to climb up the tree house.
“Who is that?!” screams Michelle, noticing somebody or something at the bottom of the ladder trying to make its way up.
She screams again when she sees two red eyes staring back at her.
Kenny barks and leaps at the figure below. I rush and grab one of the super soakers from my backpack, but before I can fire a shot, the front porch lights turn on.
“What’s going on out here?” my dad asks as he comes out onto the porch.
“It’s on the ladder, Uncle!” screams Michelle. “It’s on the ladder!”
“What’s on the ladder?” he asks.
“The monster,” she says.
“Monster? What monster? There’s nothing on the ladder.”
We all look down. The Chupacabras is gone.
“You all best come inside,” my dad orders.
As we climb down from the tree house, I look over in the direction of Mr. Calaveras’s house. I see him staring at us from his living room window.
“Where’s Kenny?” asks Michelle.
We start calling out Kenny’s name, but get no response. He is gone.
“Mr. Calaveras has my dog,” I whisper to Michelle and Bobby as I turn to see if he is still staring at us from his window.
He’s gone, and the light has been turned off.
“He has Kenny.”
