"Puerto Rico?" Dylan's head snapped up. "Puerto Rico is pretty far away from California. How did it get here?"

Paco stooped and picked up a blade of grass, which he began to slowly chew as he spoke. "We know very little, señor. Most of what we do know comes from stories told in the night. It started in Puerto Rico, then we heard of it from many other places; Mexico, Texas, Arizona, and yes, even California. Now El Chupacabra has come to northern California. We still don't know how to stop it."

"What's been tried?" Dylan asked, getting frustrated. "Do you know anything if its habits? I mean, when it is not sucking the blood of medium-sized farm animals, what does it do? How does it get around? Does it lay eggs? Nest in trees? Burrow dens?"

"Señor!" Paco shouted, grabbing Dylan by the hand, "Calm yourself. You flap about like a chicken when you get excited. We know El Chupacabra feeds on the blood of farm animals. We know El Chupacabra comes in the night. Night is almost upon us, and we have all the animals in one place. We do not need to know more. You just need to wait and do what comes naturally to your people."

"What's that?" Dylan asked over his shoulder as he watched the sun slowly drop behind the mountains.

"Kill that which you do not understand, of course," Paco laughed as he turned and walked into the growing darkness. "That is what you gringos are best at, is it not?"