Chapter 43

The beast plopped down in the sparse shade of a mesquite tree not far from the banks of the muddy stream called the Rio Grande. Flowing widely from its headwaters in Colorado, after its curve at Big Bend in Texas it narrowed more and more. Because the water of the Rio Grande has more users for it than there is water available, the river often resembles little more than a wide stream, only water from the Rio Conchos in Mexico, right across the border, sustains its journey to the Gulf.

But the beast didn't care. It was a place to drink from and immerse its heat-scorched body in something wet. El Chupacabra had covered many miles on its long trip from Florida, crossing the southern borders of Mississippi and Louisiana and then the lower but still wide hook of Southern Texas to reach this place. Sometimes it traveled in human form, stealing clothes when it was necessary, shredding them when it was done. But human prey was always easier to hunt in human form. Easier to get close to them.