Stephen Randel - Trail of the Chupacabra

“Negatory. Move out.”

“But it’s pretty fresh, sir.”

“Irrelevant, Private. Find me my treasure.”

Private Foxtrot reluctantly resumed his search.

Cesar briefed the men in his vehicle on what to do when they arrived at the target location.

“No more waiting around for the Padre. This time we’re going in hot. I want you to take down anyone who looks like a threat. You see someone with a gun, you have my authority to shoot first.”

“Do you have a ghillie suit I can borrow?” Avery asked. “I left all my sniper gear at home.”

“You’re not going in with us,” Cesar said. “I want you to stay in the vehicle. Keep listening for transmissions.”

“No fair.”

“That’s enough from you.”

“You wouldn’t even know where this guy was if it weren’t for me.”

“And I can still have you locked up for being in this country illegally. Get ready, men. ETA to target, one minute.”

“You guys suck.” Avery opened another Mountain Dew and went back to playing his video game. The convoy of military vehicles arrived at the scene just as two army helicopters were coming in low and fast. They stopped and hovered fifteen feet in the air as troops in black gear fast-roped to the ground. Two cartel guards by the door of the facility unloaded their weapons in the direction of the advancing troops. Using heavy machinery for cover, Cesar led his men forward.

“Sergeant! You take a squad through the main doors,” Cesar yelled over the din of the helicopters and gunfire. “I’m taking one to the loading bay.” Hunched over, Cesar ran from cover to cover, his squad of men behind him. Three cartel gunmen in the loading dock sprayed AK-47 fire in their direction. Five more of the Padre’s armed men came out of the bay to join them. Cesar pulled up behind an excavator. Sounds of heavy gunfire came from inside the building. “Ortiz, can you drive that bulldozer over there?” Cesar pointed.

“Yes, sir.” The soldier ran to the heavy machine while Cesar and his men poured automatic fire at the loading dock. Ortiz started up the bulldozer and raised the heavy hydraulic blade. Putting the machine in gear, he slowly advanced toward the cartel soldiers. Rolling across the open ground, Cesar and his men fell in behind the earthmover. A door gunner from one of the helicopters sprayed the dock with large-caliber bullets that tore apart the rear portion of the tractor-trailer backed up to the dock. Cesar pulled out a grenade and motioned for one of his men to do the same. Stepping from behind the advancing bulldozer, both men arced their grenades toward the bay. Two loud explosions sent bodies of cartel soldiers flying.

“Ortiz!” Cesar yelled. “Head straight for it!” As the lumbering vehicle approached the loading dock, two cartel members, covered in blood, threw down their assault rifles and put their hands over their heads. Cesar’s men zip-tied the captives’ hands and feet before Cesar led his men to the freight elevator.

“Take it down!” he ordered as he reloaded.

The Padre froze when he heard the sound of gunfire coming from above. He pulled a gold-plated automatic pistol from his suit and chambered a round.

“What the hell is going on?” Yuri asked. The Ukrainian’s bodyguard pulled out his pistol.

“They’re coming,” the Padre said calmly to his men. “Prepare for them.” A dozen of the Padre’s men stopped moving equipment, and pulled machine guns and assault rifles from storage cases.

“I thought you said this place was safe?”

“Shut up, Yuri.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up! This is bullshit…you said this place…” The Padre shot Yuri in the face and then turned the gun on his bodyguard. They fired at the same time. Both men fell to the floor. The Padre’s bodyguards shot Yuri’s man with everything in their magazines. His body twitched and jerked as the bullets tore his body apart. The Padre struggled to his feet. He had a bullet wound in his left shoulder. Yuri’s body lay prone on the lab’s floor. The Padre shot him in the face again.

“I said… shut up!”

Private Foxtrot clanked along in his Spanish armor as he waved the metal detector back and forth.

“Hot damn!” he yelled out as the needle on the meter jumped all the way to the right. “Found it!”

“All right, boys, time to dismount,” the General commanded. “Bring out every entrenching tool we have.”

“Like, what do you want me to do, man?” Ziggy stroked Nancy’s back.

“Grab a flashlight and watch the perimeter. And keep that damn lizard out of my way. Out of the bus, boys!”

The men of STRAC-BOM began digging in the hard desert soil.

“Dry as a dang powder house down here,” Private Tango said as he chipped away at the packed dirt. The men had been digging for over an hour.

“Like breaking rocks.” Private Zulu took a break from digging.

“Private, quit your lollygagging,” the General said. “Church ain’t over till the singing is done.”

“I’m not lollygagging, sir. I’m just resting a spell before I get tired.” He went back to digging. Privates Tango and Zulu shrieked simultaneously like little girls.

“Calm down.” Fire Team Leader Charlie looked around the bottom of the hole and poked with his shovel.

“Dead hand…dead hand,” Private Zulu mumbled as he crawled out of the hole and wiped his hands off on his uniform.

“Well, well, well.” Fire Team Leader Charlie lifted something out of the soil with his entrenching tool.

“What is it?” the General asked as he pointed a flashlight into the small pit.

“This old fellow ain’t going to be dealing southpaw from the deck anymore.” Fire Team Leader Charlie held up the skeletal remains of a left arm balanced on the blade of his shovel.

“Is the rest of him down there?” the General asked as he examined the bones.

“I reckon so.”

“Well, get him out of there.”

“What do you want me to do with this?”

“Like, can I have it, man?” Ziggy held the squirming Nancy under one arm while he reached for the relic. “Like, my store specializes in this stuff.” Ziggy took the remains of the arm and sniffed it. Struggling to hold Nancy still, he took the skeleton arm, stretched it over his shoulder, and scratched his back with it. “People, like, pay top dollar for this stuff.”

“You’re as crazy as a soup sandwich.” Fire Team Leader Charlie went back to digging with the rest of the men.

“I’m really not, like, crazy, dude.” Ziggy examined his new treasure. “Avery just says I’m, like, mentally hilarious.”

It took a few minutes for the men to remove the rest of the skeleton. As the various pieces were excavated from the ground, Ziggy laid them out in anatomical order. “I, like, need the hip bone, man. The foot bone connected to the…leg bone. The leg bone connected to the…hip bone,” Ziggy sang as he worked at reconstructing the skeleton.

Private Tango heard a dull thunk as his shovel hit something solid. The men all looked at each other.

“We got something, General.” Fire Team Leader Bravo got down on his hands and knees, and began sweeping away dirt with his hands. “It’s wood. Looks like some kind of long crate.”

“You’re sure it ain’t a chest?” Private Zulu asked. “’Cause I never heard of a treasure crate, just a treasure chest.”

“He’s right — it’s definitely a crate,” Private Tango said as he started to dig around the sides.

“Like, you sure there isn’t a hip down there, man?” Ziggy pointed into the pit with the skeleton’s bony arm.

Avery sat in the military vehicle outside the Padre’s facility and fumed. He distinctly remembered General Morales’ comments about the value of the reward for the Padre’s capture being contingent upon the level of involvement of the individual claiming the money. They’re trying to cut me out. Rip me off on some Mexican technicality. You can’t trust anyone in this country . The fighting now seemed to be contained inside the facility. Around the grounds, only a few army soldiers remained on lookout. Avery opened the door and performed a barrel roll onto the hard ground. Springing to his feet, he took a karate stance. His eyes panned left and right and then left again, but his head didn’t move. Tiptoeing between the heavy machines, he reached down and picked up a broom. Unscrewing the handle from the brush, he attempted to break it over his knee. It didn’t work.