Tres Navarre vs. the Chupacabra Chapter 5: Tres Goes to Hades

After a dinner of Bill Miller barbecue washed down with Shiner Bock beer, Tres settled in for a nap.   When he awoke, the apartment was dark.    The clock read 11:11.    He hopped in the truck and made his way downtown hoping that he would not be too late.   As he drove east on Houston Street, he found a parking lot within blocks of the theater.   Fingering the coin in his pants pocket, he walked down the street, unsure of what would await him.    The street was completely empty and still, which was unusual even for 11:55.    The buildings were all dark except for the marquee of the Majestic Theater which advertised the Lion King.

Standing directly across from the Majestic, he opened his phone to get an accurate time.   His phone flashed 11:59 and then went dark.   Across the street, he noticed an awning that hadn’t been there before.   It said “The River Styx.”    The door was barred by a burly man in a pinstriped suit and a long beard worthy of ZZ Top.  Tres walked casually across the street.  Up close, the bouncer looked even bigger and wilder.   In a raspy voice, the figure asked, “Have you the fare?”

Tres pulled out the coin and the bouncer reached for it.   As he was about to let go, he remembered Felix’s words and pulled back.   “Not until we reach the other side,” he said.   “Very well” said the man-beast.  He opened the door and they entered a narrow antechamber.   It was barely large enough to hold Tres and the giant apparition.   The man pressed a button and a door opened in the wall.   They entered an elevator which began to descend.   The numbers increased as they went down, eventually stopping at thirteen.   Tres said, “Hey, I thought it was bad luck to have a thirteenth floor.”   Tres blinked and noticed that the pinstriped suit had given way to a rough-hewn cloak and the beard had grown even wilder in appearance.   With his left hand, the ferryman pointed to a boat that lay tied up on the banks of a subterranean river.   Torchlight lit the near bank.  The far bank was lost in darkness.   It was a bit like the tunnel of love in a haunted house.

As Tres climbed into the boat, it began to rock precariously, a movement which became more pronounced as the ferryman climbed on board.  Tres fell to his knees with his hands gripping the side of the boat for dear life.  As he looked over the edge, he saw a lost soul float by.  He decided it would be better to sit in the bottom of the boat and look straight ahead.  Charon stuck his pole in the water and pushed off.   After what seemed like an eternity, he saw light on the other side.   As the boat crunched against the far bank, the ferryman said, “Pay or join the lost souls.”   Tres put one foot on the land and handed him the coin.   The ferryman grunted with approval and began the return trip.  

Tres made his way toward the torchlight.  He saw a circular entranceway but before he could draw near, a three-headed beast blocked his path.  “Good doggy,” he said shakily.   The beast’s six eyes blazed with flame.   He pulled three strips of beef jerky from his pocket and tossed them in the general direction of Cerberus.   The infernal hound pounced upon the beef jerky and Tres saw his opening.    He reached for the exposed stomach of the massive canine and began to skritch.   “Nice doggy.  Who’s a good boy?” he said.   To his relief, Cerberus did not bit his head off.   Instead, he rolled over and began to make what could only be described as the contented sighs of a demon beast, both comforting and terrifying at the same time.

After a suitable interval, Tres patted Cerberus on his middle head and said “Got to go, pooch.”   Cerberus began to run around in circles.   Tres gave him one last head rub and moved toward to a door which said “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.”    He pulled the massive door and it swung open with a monumental creaking as if the whole earth were coming apart.

Inside the door was a desk manned by a bored-looking security officer who happened to be a demon with horns protruding from his cap.    “Welcome to the underworld,” he said.   “Do you have an appointment?”

“I’m here to see Ralph Arguello,” Tres replied.   

“Is he expecting you?”

“Who knows,” he said.   “It’s been a really weird week.   At this point I don’t know what to believe.”

“This is highly irregular,” said the demon rent-a-cop.  “Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve had a voluntary guest here?”   The gatekeeper picked up a red telephone and punched in a number.   Apparently it rang for a really long time since the security demon stared blankly at the ceiling for an extended period of time.   Finally he said, “Follow me.”

They entered a red car and drove onto a highway that looked like Interstate 35 during rush hour.   Along the way, the demon explained that his name was Herman and that he was working the front gate as a second job so that he could save up for a vacation with his wife to the pool of Mnemosyne. After three hours, they arrived at their destination which was only a few blocks away.  Tres thought about asking how this made sense, but realized that he was in Hades.

He bid good bye to Herman and entered a shady-looking cantina.    As his eyes adjusted to the inner dimness, he saw an oversize figure with a braided ponytail wearing a white linen guayabera shirt facing the bar.   He was about to call out when the figure turned around and said, "Tres, mi amigo, welcome to Hell.  Have a beer."  Tres found himself face to face with his deceased friend, Ralph Arguello.   

Tres Navarre vs. the Chupacabra Chapter 4: Underworld Research

Tres didn’t have class the next day so he slept in until the noonday sun in his eyes made it hard to continue his slumber. The funny thing was that he didn’t remember leaving the drapes open. He stumbled into the kitchen and turned on the coffee pot to reheat yesterday’s brew. He had halfway convinced that he had dreamed the whole nonsense about demigod messengers, attacking penguins and goat eating monsters when he noticed a large brown envelope with his name on it beside the coffee pot.

He ripped open the letter, dropping a small silver coin onto the formica counter in the process. Written in a a precise child-like script he read:

Dear Mr. Navarre,

Percy Jackson asked me to deliver a message to you. It seems like he has been doing a lot of messaging and not much helping out lately. Any, here is the message.

Go to the Majestic Theater at midnight. At precisely midnight, a door will appear to the left of the theater. It will say The River Styx. Show the man at the door this coin but do not give it to him under any circumstances.

The man at the door is Charon. He operates the ferry across the River Styx. Once you cross, give him the coin or else he will not let you out of the boat. However, remember, don’t pay the ferryman until he gets you to the other side.

Once you cross the River Styx, you will find Cerberus, the three-headed dog. If you rub his tummy, he will roll over and let you pass. However, you have to avoid being eaten first.

Good luck.

Your Friend,
Felix

P.S. If you are wondering how I got into your apartment, I made a mold of your key with my bubble gum.

Tres shuddered at the thought that a ten year old boy had gotten into his apartment without him knowing. He needed better security or he was going to wind up dead. He picked up the coin and rubbed it between his fingers. It felt like real silver rather than a cheap plated job. The coin was small and irregularly shaped. On one side was an antique looking head. On the other side was Greek lettering that said “έρχονται σαλπάρετε με εμένα.” Given the coin’s age, it was obviously worth something and could keep his truck in gas for a while.

He quickly banished the thought of pawning the coin from his mind. In a world where ten year old kids could break into your apartment and mythical Aztec creatures roamed the countryside, no good could come from keeping the coin. Besides that, he had a strict code that he never retained an unearned fee. While this wasn’t exactly a fee, it was in the nature of a cost advance, which made it sort of the same thing.

He decided that, for the sake of the goats of the Hill Country and the chance to see his old friend Ralph, it was worth seeing if a portal to the underworld really would open up next to the Majestic Theater. However, first he would have to do some research.

After a quick breakfast taco and some week old Chinese food, he made his way downtown to the main branch of the public library. The six-story Mexican modern building was colored enchilada red.  Ordinarily this would make him hungry.  However, food was the last thing on his mind.

Making his way between the stacks, he pulled down a copy of Bullfinch’s Mythology.  There he learned that Charon was indeed the ferryman who made the passage across the River Styx. Charon’s payment was an obol, a small coin much like the one he held in his hand. The figure on the coin was Medusa and the Greek letters translated to “come sail away with me.” Disturbingly, the reference book indicated that Charon had a strict policy against letting the living pass. While Hercules gained passage by beating Charon with his own oar, Tres doubted that he would be able to use brute strength.

Adding to his unease, he learned that Cerberus was a three headed dog with a taste for living flesh. His job was to bar the way to Hades for the living and keep the dead in their place. He found several strategies for subduing Cerberus, including lulling him to sleep with music (a stratagem also used in the Harry Potter series) and feeding him drugged honey cakes. There was no reference to rubbing Cerberus’s tummy.

His research completed, there was nothing left but to take a nap. As a good detective, he knew that it is always best to face mythological underworld beings while well rested.

Tres Navarre vs. the Chupacabra Chapter 3: Lessons My Abuelo Never Taught Me

Tres could barely keep his eyes open as he prepared to leave the UTSA campus after the day’s classes.   As he passed the fountain, he had to blink to make sure that he wasn’t seeing things.   There in the fountain was a familiar looking boy.   He shut his eyes tight and then opened them.

“Nope.  I didn’t go away,” said the boy in the fountain.   “I’m really here.”

“I was hoping last night was just a bad dream brought on by too many tequila shots.”

“No, you weren’t drinking and if I do say so myself, you shouldn’t.  It’s a bad habit and has been the downfall of many of the Olympians.  But I am not here to lecture you on the dangers of strong drink.   I am here to deliver a message.”

“Since when is the son of Poseidon in the business of delivering messages?  Isn’t that some other guy’s job?”

“Well technically yes, but there is a push for more cross-training on Mount Olympus, so I am doing some contract work for Hermes.    If I do well, my next job will be with Athena.”

“All right, already.   Just deliver the message and leave me to my headache.”

“You failed in your first encounter with the chupacabra because you forgot the lessons of your abuelo.   And also, relying on Felix and his penguins is always a tricky proposition.”

“What lessons from my abuelo?   I don’t even speak Spanish?”

“Are you sure?   According to my briefing, the secrets of the chupacabra were passed down from the Aztecs to their descendants in Mexico, passing from grandfather to grandson.”

“The only problem with that theory is that I’m not Mexican.”

“Well, I’m sure the proper term is Mexican-American or Latino.   I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No, it’s not Mexican or Mexican-American or Aztec-American.    My family is Spanish even though I don’t speak a word of it.   My father was elected Sheriff of Bexar County because people thought he was Mexican-American.   However, he wasn't and I’m not.  There are no secrets passed down to me from my abuelo.   As a result, I was just winging it out there.  I figured that when a kid showed up talking about penguins and magic that that was my clue.”

“Oh dear,” said Percy.   (I am assuming that the reader picked up the hint that the boy in the fountain at UTSA was demigod Percy Jackson).    “If you are not the keeper of the secrets of the chupacabra, we have a big problem.   Once the chupacabra eats all the goats, it will turn to eating humans and there will be a terrible carnage unless it can be driven back to its lair.   Think.   Is there someone you know of Mexican descent who is unusually wise in the ways of San Antonio, who always knows everything from where to find the best bowl of menudo to where the bodies are buried?”

“Yes,” said Tres, “that would be my friend, Ralph Arguello.    The only problem is that he died in Mission Road.   Tres’s throat caught for a moment as he recalled the image of Ralph’s lifeless body, clad in his trademark guayabera shirt, size XXL, in his coffin.   “Look. unless you can conduct a séance, we’re not going to be talking to Ralph.  At least not in this lifetime.”

“Don’t be silly.   Seances aren’t real.   What you have to do is go to Hades to talk to Ralph and gain the secrets of the chupacabra.”

“Is that all?”    

“I realize that it’s not done that often.   As a matter of fact, Hercules and Dante are the only persons I can think of who crossed the River Styx and came back.   However, you have one advantage they didn’t have.   You have me to tell you the way.”

“Are you coming along?”

“Oh no, there would be Hades to pay if I did.   But I can show you the way.”

“Go away kid,” said Tres, who promptly got in his truck and drove home.

Tres Navarre vs. the Chupacabra: Chapter Two March of the Penguins

Chapter 2:   March of the Penguins

As Tres drove slowly behind Sea World, Felix pointed to a mesquite bush barely visible in the darkness.    As they drew closer, Felix opened a gate hidden in the darkness behind the bush.   They entered the deserted amusement park stealthily and made their way under the Steel Eel roller coaster.   Under the night sky, the roller coaster really did look like the twisted figure of a giant serpent.    The penguin enclosure was on the other side of the roller coaster.     Felix removed an unusually large ring of keys from his shoe and unlocked the back door.   This led to a darkened hallway.   Felix pulled a glowstick from his other shoe to light the way.   

When Felix reached another locked door, he whispered, “Let me do the talking.”    Tres silently shook his head in the darkness.    Felix rapped three times on the door and it opened inward.  A large Emperor penguin greeted Felix.    Tres could not make out the words, but Felix seemed to be talking to the penguin.    The penguin shook its head from side to side and raised its wings.    Felix made soothing sounds until the anxious bird calmed dawn.   

After what seemed like hours but was probably only three and a half minutes, Felix drew closer to Tres followed by the penguin.   “This is Hugo,” Felix said.   He can spare six of his men, but we have to be back by sunrise.   And he wants anchovies, the kind that come in the little tins.”

“Is there anything else?” Tres asked.

“Yes,” said Felix.   We will have to fill the bed of your pickup with snow.   The penguins are not used to the heat outside their enclosure.    We could stop by the 7-11 and buy 200 pounds of ice and then shave it into little pieces, or I could just cast a spell.”     

Tres quietly cursed and said, “This is the weirdest dream.”

Hugo and six other penguins of various shapes and sizes followed them out.   Felix chanted an incantation which filled the bed of the pickup with snow.   Tres drove them to an all-night Walmart which stocked industrial size cans of anchovies.   The greedy penguins devoured the anchovies as Tres headed west on Hwy. 46 toward the small town of Bandera.

“What’s in Bandera?” asked Felix.

“Bandera was founded by Roman Catholic immigrants from Poland.  They built a stone church which is one of the oldest in Texas.  It is also known as the Cowboy Capital of the World.  The Mayan Dude Ranch has been in business for over fifty years.  However, that’s not why we are going there.    I have selected a goat pasture to stake out just outside of town.”  

“I thought the chupacabra ate all the goats,” said Felix.   

“Apparently not,” said Tres.    While you were in Walmart, I did some sleuthing.   According to the Texas Commissioner of Agriculture, the only goats left for a hundred miles are located near Bandera.   Also, according to the local newspaper, local ranchers have found goats drained of all their blood at several locations near town.”

After what seemed like much aimless driving around, Tres pulled the truck off the road and turned toward a pasture barred by a locked gate.   Tres reached behind the seat and pulled out a very large set of bolt cutters.   “Sir, do you have vandalism in mind?” asked Felix.   “Best if you don’t ask too many questions, kid,” replied Tres.   

Tres made short work of the lock and opened the gate.   He parked the truck behind a stand of live oak trees.    Felix directed the penguins into strategic positions around the pasture, giving them each a sack of ice to sit on.   Tres lifted Felix onto a limb about five feet off the ground and told him to stay put.   

They didn’t have to wait long.   Slightly after 3 am, the wind began to stir and clouds covered the moon, eliminating what little light there had been.   The goats became skittish, moving rapidly back and forth across the pasture and making frightened bleating sounds.    An object moving at incredible speed moved into the center of the herd of goats, causing them to scatter in all directions.   Despite the absence of light, Tres and Felix could see the dim outline of a hulking figure looming over an unfortunate goat.   The goat gave one last pathetic bleat before talons ripped its throat open.   As the wind blew their way, they could hear a greedy sucking sound as the phantom drained the life from the goat.

                                 

“Holy sh----“ cried Tres.

“Hugo attack,” commanded Felix.   

Penguins emerged from behind mesquite bushes across the pasture and began to rush the figure which they now knew was almost certainly a chupacabra.     Felix chanted a protection spell toward the rapidly advancing penguins.    While it is generally believed that penguins waddle slowly, Hugo and his band descended upon the beast with both speed and ferocity.   

As the penguins advanced, the beast reared up to its full height of nearly seven feet.   It batted Hugo away as easily as the wind carrying a tumbleweed.    The other penguins boasted off the monster harmlessly or were swatted away.    For a split second its red eyes stared directly at Tres and Felix, then it gave an angry cry and vanished into the night.  

 

Shortly after, the clouds cleared and they were able to assess their damage.    At the center of the attack was the empty body that had been a goat only a few minutes before.   Penguins picked themselves up from the grass of the pasture and unsteadily made their way back toward Tres and Felix.   

“I don’t understand,” said Felix.   “My protection spell should have worked.”

“What kind of a spell did you use?” asked Tres.

“It was a very venerable incantation from the priests of the Seventh Dynasty.   From Egypt.”

“Son,” replied Tres.   “You’re in Texas.   Everything’s bigger and badder here.   Be glad your furry friends are here at all.”

Felix noticed that Hugo’s wing was hanging at an odd angle.   He made a poultice of mud and goat manure and applied it to the injured wing.   He fashioned a sling out of a handkerchief.  

“Sorry boss,” said Hugo.   “That beast was wicked powerful.  He makes a leopard seal look like a kitten.”

“That’s all right,” said Felix.   “You fought valiantly.   The rest of these goats will get to live another night.”

Without anything more to be said, they climbed back into the truck and made the long drive back to Sea World.    They got the penguins back to their enclosure just as the red sun began to peek over the horizon.   After returning Felix to the Palacio del Rio, Tres returned to his apartment, took a quick shower and left for class.