Marcus Pelegrimas - Teeth of Beasts

The top of the Chupe’s head bobbled within the grass around them. It stopped moving half a second before the creature made another charge. All Cole could think about was that Paige hadn’t been kidding. The little bastard could move even faster than the four-legged one he’d chased in Indiana. Its scurrying steps kicked up a cloud of dirt, but he managed to trip it with a low sweep of his spear. The Chupe’s arms were placed so it could catch and right itself before falling onto its ugly face. As soon as it was upright again, it scrambled behind Cole and climbed up the back of his leg.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled while reaching around to try and grab hold of it.

Even though the Chupe was too quick to be snagged by the arms or neck, its hair was long enough for Cole to pull the thing off his back. The instant the Chupe’s body hit the dirt, he brought his spear down to trap it between the sharpened points of the forked end. He wasn’t fast enough to catch the wiry beastie on his first attempt, so he brought his foot down for a second. He caught one of the Chupe’s legs under his heel, but the creature quickly sank its nails and teeth into his shoe through the upper layer of leather and laces.

Cole swung his free leg in and around for a kick to the Chupe’s ribs, but was blocked by a knobby elbow and cut with a raking swipe of jagged claws across his shin. He planted his kicking foot and lifted the other, along with the creature, off the ground. The Chupe let go and rolled away just as he was about to launch it into the trees. It kept rolling in an erratic pattern to dodge a storm of incoming strikes from the spear. Once it got a few yards away, the Chupe dropped to all fours and tore into the surrounding greenery. It seemed even smaller and ganglier as it streaked back between Cole’s legs and grabbed onto the seat of his pants. From there, it climbed up to hold onto his shoulders so it could scratch and bite at his scalp and neck.

“Stay back!” Cole said when he saw Abby come toward him with her spray can held in an outstretched hand.

He gritted his teeth through the pain of the Chupe’s flailing attack, hoping the serum in his blood would be up to healing all those painful little wounds. Grabbing onto his spear down toward the forked end, he shifted it into a bowed shape and then swung it around his back so it partially encircled him and the gnawing little creature. Its thorny handle dug into the Chupe’s flesh with a wet crunch, followed by a grating squeal from the creature once Cole began sawing the weapon back and forth.

“Yeah!” he growled. “Doesn’t feel too good, does it?”

Rather than let go or try to get away, the Chupe dug its nails and teeth in even deeper. Its mouth was close enough to Cole’s ear for him to hear what sounded like garbled vulgarities in some strange, guttural language.

Cole twisted his head around to look over both shoulders. “How about this?” he asked as he jogged backward toward a tree. Although the impact must have driven the spikes from the handle deeper into the Chupe’s back, the weapon itself absorbed a good amount of the blow. The Chupe was about to rip Cole’s ear off, so he stepped forward, pulled the spear away, and backed into the tree again. Now, instead of the foreign swearing being spat into his ear, Cole could hear a wheezing grunt.

“There ya go!” He slammed into the tree one more time and felt the grip on his back start to loosen. When the bony tip of the Chupe’s nose scraped against the back of Cole’s neck, he snapped his head back to try and convince it to let go. All he managed to do was knock his head against a tree as the creature dropped to the ground and scampered away.

Head-butting a tree made Cole dizzy for a second, but it hurt even worse to be showed up by a wiry little shit that couldn’t even grow proper arms. To make matters worse, he could swear the Chupe was laughing at him as it rose up to two feet and raced through the weeds.

“Watch my back, huh?” he grumbled while remembering Paige’s final warning. “Guess I should have taken that more literally.”

Abby wanted to run after the Chupacabra, but stopped before venturing too far from the trail. “I can see him, Cole! He’s headed straight that way.”

Already looking where Abby was pointing, Cole rubbed his head and got a proper grip on his spear. “I see him,” he said as he made a fist that drove the spikes from the handle deeper into his palm. No matter how many times he’d done that, it still hurt. Part of the weapon’s varnish healed the wounds inflicted upon the bearer, but nerves never died. The pain lit a fire in his gut that was channeled into his legs as he tore after the ugly little bastard.

The Chupe must have been hurt because it couldn’t drop to all fours and gain any real speed. Even though it was easier to see while upright, it was still fast.

Before long, Cole had built up a good head of steam. The grass was tall, but wasn’t thick enough to fully hide the rocks or fallen logs that could trip him up. If he paid close attention to when the Chupe hopped, sped up, or slowed down, he could get an even better idea of how the terrain was laid out in front of him.

Suddenly, the Chupe twisted its head around, causing the tangle of rootlike hair to swirl from its face. Greasy yellow eyes darted downward as the twisted semblance of a grin cut through the lower portion of its face.

Cole followed the thing’s line of sight for as long as his pace would allow. There was a pile of sticks in front of him, which he was able to clear with a short jump. If the Chupe had somehow hoped to trip him up, it was out of luck. If it intended to lead him to the pit that had been dug just past those sticks and was obscured by a layer of branches, however, it did a hell of a good job.

“Oh shit!” he grunted as he skidded toward the hole.

Once his heel slid over the edge, his foot dropped through empty air.

Cole’s momentum carried him into the gaping opening while his body pitched downward. He stretched out to grab onto something with his left hand, but it only slapped against the farthest edge of the hole. His right hand was still wrapped around his weapon, which he drove into the ground directly in front of him. The weight of his body dragged the spear through the last bits of grass hanging off the edge and came to a stop when it snagged against a rock or something just as solid buried in the earth.

Gritting his teeth, he sent a desperate command to his weapon. The spear creaked and extended deeper into the ground, far enough to keep him from dropping any farther. The sides of the pit were fairly straight and textured by claw marks that looked like a close fit to the nails sprouting from the Chupe’s fingertips. Just as he started to wonder how far down the pit went, his feet bumped against a pile of large rocks that was about the size of a large dining room table. Cole placed his feet on the rocks and immediately slipped off. His grip on the spear held up, and without it he would have been lucky to only break one leg in the fall.

“Freaking little…asshole…son of a bitch,” Cole growled as he pressed his face against the dirt and pushed up from the rocks. When he tried to grab a handful of grass for leverage, hard little nails scraped at the top of his hand.

He hadn’t heard the Chupacabra approach him, but the little thing squatted down less than a foot away to scratch at his flesh. Its mouth hung open and its wedge-shaped head rattled with hacking laughter. Before he lost a hand, Cole grabbed the Chupe’s wrist, shifted his weight and dragged the little creep into the hole.

Dangling less than a foot above the rocks, the Chupe stretched all four limbs to grab onto the pit’s textured sides. After scrambling up and onto solid ground, Cole plucked his spear from the dirt and drove the largest point straight into the hole. The Chupe was quick enough to turn so the spearhead only glanced along its ribs.