Chapter 6

Hernandez farm

Just outside San Agustin, Costa Rica.

June 5th, 1993

It's been a solid hour drive from the InGen Headquarters to the small town of San Agustin. Donald can see the small town, spread across miles of cleared farmland nearing as they drive towards it. Artega takes a left at the closest intersection, the paved road now making way for a dirt one. Donald quickly realizes that the right front wheel suspension could use replacement as he rocks back and forth on the bumpy road. A few minutes pass and Artega parks his vehicle next to a small farmstead, seemingly abandoned. No man or woman in sight.

"Here we are." Artega says to the point while he opens the jeep door. Donald readjusts his hat before exiting too.

Artega and Donald walk from their parked vehicle towards a large, open field, drawn in by the massive crowd that surrounds something in the middle of the field. The pair walks towards the mass, some of them approaching the duo when they walk close.

One of them, an older man, approaches Artega, speaking to him in spanish. Donald isn't able to understand much of it, the pair talk for a minute before Artega turns to Donald.

"Donald, this is Esteban Hernandez, he's the owner of this land." Artega says, Donald nods politely to the man, but he's given a stern, angry look in return.

"I assume it's his animal that was found dead?" Donald asks Artega, who turns back to ask the old man. After a short discourse, Artega confirms, prompting Donald to walk further towards the large group. As he approaches them, he notices more people give him nasty-looking side-eyes, as if he's the devil on earth.

Donald quickly understands why Artega hasn't been able to find definite proof of what attacks the animals. The massive crowd has trampled nearly all of the evidence around the carcass. Donald's hope to recover usable footprints shattered by the unknowing mob.

Artega approaches the mob, telling them to leave the area. As the crowd disperses, the pair start to see the full damage inflicted upon the poor goat. The goat is completely torn up, its limbs completely separated, one completely missing. The goat's belly is cut open and its entrails are on the floor, half eaten. Donald notices a single puncture wound in the middle of its spine. Donald leans over the unfortunate goat, inspecting the puncture wound closeby by sticking his finger in the finger-sized hole until he can push it no further. He can feel the vertebrae are crushed from the attack, split into multiple sections with sharp edges that are now starting to hurt his finger. Donald pulls his finger out, noticing the drying blood go up to his second knuckle. Donald is surprised by how deep the wound is, Donald notices the goat's eyes are closed. This irks him, for if the animal was attacked and killed quickly, its eyes would likely be open. In combination with the location of the puncture wound, Donald quickly comes to the conclusion that the animal was incapacitated, not killed before it was eaten. Donald grabs a tissue from his pocket and starts to clean his finger with it. Donald looks at the mangled animal once again before he's distracted by Artega.

"So, what do you think?" Artega asks, Donald shakes his head.

"I don't know yet." Donald says troubled while looking at the mangled footprints surrounding the animal.

"Not a pretty sight, is it?" Artega comments, Donald ignores him while he discovers a half-intact footprint, soaked in the animal's blood moving away from the carcass and into the thick vegetation. While somewhat trampled by the locals, the elongated V-shaped footprint is still clearly visible. The sight immediately scares the young man, its shape being all too familiar to Donald.

"It can't be." Donald mutters to himself.

He is startled by Artega tapping him on his shoulder.

"Found something useful?" Artega asks Donald, now standing upright again.

Donald thinks long and hard while staring into the thick vegetation that makes up the treeline. He notices the shrubbery of a particular spot at the edge of the treeline move consistently. Donald feels sweat forming on his back and underneath his arms.

"You don't happen to have a rifle somewhere in the back of that jeep, do you?" Donald asks Artega. Artega looks at him, noticing the serious look on Donald's face.

"Actually, I do." Artega reassures him. "In the trunk, just in case."

"Would you mind handing it to me right now?" Artega frowns at the young man, who's still staring intensely into the thick treeline.

"You think the animal's still closeby?" Artega asks hesitantly.

"Something is." Donald returns, his concerned attitude surprised Artega. Donald wipes some sweat from his forehead.

"Right." Artega says questionably, scratching his nose as he thinks. "Let me grab it real quick." Artega starts to jog towards his jeep.

Donald continues to stare into the treeline, concern rising the more he thinks about the possibility that a raptor is in fact, loose on the island. But how is it possible? He thinks to himself. How could a raptor get off the island and survive this long? And if it did, how come it hasn't attacked any humans yet? Donald looks down again, visually inspecting the V-shaped track once more. Maybe the track is incomplete? He thinks to himself, trying to reach his more reasonable side. But before he's able to think about it more, he sees Artega return with a scoped, bolt-action rifle. He hands the rifle to Donald, alongside 3 rounds.

"Three times the charm." Artega says jokingly towards Donald, now loading the three rounds into the rifle. The crowd surrounds the man, a discord of conversations distract the man as he hears them say 'chupacabra' more than once.

"Artega, do me a favor and keep the locals out of my way." Donald commands. Artega nods and begins to talk to them in order to draw their attention. Donald begins to walk closer to the treeline.

When Donald reaches the edge of the treeline, he pauses for a moment. He scans his surroundings for any more tracks but can't find any. Donald inhales deeply before proceeding into the jungle.

Donald breaks through the first layer of shrubbery and he can feel the shade instantly cooling the back of his neck. He scans his surroundings and inspects the dry jungle floor for anything useful but can't find anything worthwhile. He continues, first sweeping the edge of the area of treeline where he first noticed the moving shrubbery. He notices some odd lines in the floor, as if someone stroked a heavy branch over the floor. He tries to find a discernible pattern, but quickly finds himself stuck once more. After a few more minutes of track-searching, he cautiously proceeds deeper into the jungle.

The deeper he walks into the jungle, the thicker the air feels and the more anxious he becomes. Donald knows too well that a jungle environment is an excellent hunting ground for raptors, but immediately tries to ease himself when he finds himself thinking that.

"There are no raptors, Donnie." Donald reassures himself. Soon, Donald finds himself in a small clearing in the jungle and pauses. Listening intently for something he can't describe. Soon he realizes that something is moving around him. After a while, the noise stops and Donald can immediately feel the hairs on his arm stand upright. For Donald sees a dark figure moving across the shrubbery right in front of him. Donald doesn't hesitate, crouching down while simultaneously raising his rifle in front of him, hoping to himself that the scope is properly aligned. He begins leading the rifle across the direction of movement, its thick crosshair almost aligning with the slow moving mass in front of him. Donald squeezes the trigger tightly until a pop rings his right ear. With his left ear, he can hear a loud shrieking noise, instantly validating Muldoon's shot. He pulls the bolt back and forth, chambering a second round and pulls the trigger tightly once more. This time lowering his scope closer to the floor. When the second bullet leaves the second barrel of his rifle, Donald hears the ear-deafening noise stopping. Donald eases, chambering the last round in his rifle before edging closer to the bushes in front of him.

The bush is thick, so he powers through it.

As he clears the bush, he trips over something soft laying on the floor. Startled, he turns and sees a dead puma laying on the floor. Two puncture wounds mark the side of its belly. Donald sighs a breath of relief noticing the deceased creature, although deep down he feels sadness for what he just did. While his father always enjoyed the thrill of hunting, Donald only sees it as pure necessity and only out of a need for protection. Donald rests on the jungle floor for a minute, before he's startled by a man's voice coming from the edge of the forest.

"Mister Muldoon! Are you okay?" The man yells, the voice belonging to Artega.

"Yeah, I'm here Artega!" Donald yells back. After a few moments, Artega breaks through the shrubs himself and sees Donald laying next to the dead animal.

"Oh god, you shot a puma?" Artega says shocked.

"Yes…" Donald says regretfully. Now using the rifle as an aid to get upright.

"So… This is the animal that killed the goat." Artega asks, inspecting the large cat.

Donald looks at the puma, its blood-soaked mouth and wet, crimson coloured chest reveals he's had something to eat not too long ago.

"Well, it looks like it." Donald confirms.

"But this is great!" Artega says while enthusiasm resonates through his words.

"We can finally put this one to bed then." Artega says, still not believing the young man was able to do what he couldn't for over a year.

"Well, there is one thing I need to check though." Donald says to the cop.

"But first, let's show the locals the puma, put their minds to ease."

The duo lift the animal up, the heavy beast weighs almost too much for the pair and they quickly starts walking out of the forest, lumbering the heavy animal with them.

When they near the mob of locals, they drop the animal onto the floor with a heavy thud. The locals immediately swarm the pair and look at the dead animal in awe, some patting Donald on the back while others cheer. Artega looks at Donald while still smiling.

"So, what did you want to check?" Artega asks, Donald immediately scans for the familiar footprint close to the goat but to his horror, finds the footprint now completely trampled by the careless locals.

"That footprint… But it's ruined now." Donald says. Artega slaps him on the back.

"Who cares, we got the culprit. I'll bag this and take it with me back to San José so we can put this whole thing to rest." While Artega is ecstatic, Donald is still filled with doubt. Especially when he thinks about the damage this puma is supposed to have inflicted on the goat. A gnawing feeling in his stomach begins to bother him the more he thinks about it. He's momentarily distracted by an older woman who pokes him with her walking stick. The old lady looks at the duo angrily.

"No puma! Chupacabra!" The lady says in broken english. Artega speaks to her in Spanish to clarify. A heated discussion between the two commences and for a while, it seems the lady is winning the argument, before she frustratingly throws Spanish obscenities at the cop. When she's done with her tirade towards the man, she slowly heads back towards a small cabin at the edge of the farm.

"What was that about?" Donald asks Artega while rubbing the back of his head.

"She claims the goat wasn't killed by the puma."

"How could she know?" Donald asks.

"Because she says the goat was attacked this night, the puma you shot must've merely ate from it just before the farmer found it this morning. Or atleast, that's what she claims." Artega states while raising his shoulders.

"She witnessed the attack?" Donald asks, but Artega shakes his head.

"No, she claims she only heard it happen." Artega continues.

"And the obscenities?" Donald asks sarcastically.

"Just her way of saying thank you." Artega jokes back. Donald resists the urge to laugh. He's captivated by the cop, convinced that he could even make his father laugh out loud.

"Either way, before I take you back, would you like to join me for some food and drinks?" Artega asks while still smiling from their success.

Donald looks at the mangled animal, his appetite completely gone.

"Sure…" Donald says hesitantly. Artega nods approvingly.

"Perfect, I know just the place."