Jack and the crew is back and after the elusive CHUPACABRA!

The steer screamed, and bucked, the black shadow digging its fangs into the back of the animal's neck, held on tighter as the steer charged, straight toward the only help it could see, Phil.

He turned, hands shaking as he brought the taser up, turned his head away, closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. The chupacabra released its bovine prey, leaped for the top rail of the fence and darted along from post to post, disappearing into the rafters of the barn.

The steer continued its charge, the probes of the taser sinking into the beefy flesh of the shoulder hump, bringing it to a halt, just as Phil, shoved by the steer's snout, fell face first, in the muck of the pen.

The steer straddled him,quivering as the taser caused its bladder to lose control, emptying its steamy, liquid contents onto Phil's prone back, just before the animal tipped, landing on its side, its fully erect penis poking Phil in the hip, as it cradled him, unconscious.

"I hate you Jack Bannister!" Phil screamed, "Never again!"

Two weeks earlier on the campus of OCCC in southwest Oklahoma City.

The lights came up in the packed lecture hall, rows of serious expressions surrounded me on three sides. I hadn’t expected that. There was silence for a full ten seconds, then slowly, the applause began and rose to a crescendo as the crowd erupted to their feet with cheers.

**Now, that, was more like it. **

We had just premiered the footage of our bigfoot hunting expedition. You can read all about it, starting here. I picked up the wireless microphone and stepped up to the lectern.

“I’m Jack Bannister and what you just saw all happened to me, and my team, Phil Johnson and Gwen Cannon, right here in the great state of Oklahoma, at the beginning of last semester,” I said, as the crowd calmed and took a seat.

“So, we’d like to take questions now, if that’s okay,” I said, as hands shot up all over the room.

“Yes, the young man in the red shirt. He was a year older than me, but it felt good to be a bit condescending for one, since we’d gotten back from finding the Miracle Bears and escaping with our lives, I’d gotten a lot more respect around campus, and more than a little romantic action, although none past the first date, which Phil said was just them finding out what a pain in the ass I am.

“Yeah, uh, how did you decide to go after Bigfoot?” the guy in the red shirt asked.

Phil had grilled me on potential questions, to avert what he felt was an inevitable embarrassment. I smiled, ”Well, my friend Phil wants me to tell you about my long passion with crypto-zoology."

**"Truth is, I needed tuition money to put off getting a real job for a couple more years!” **

A cheer erupted, with one particularly obnoxious jock in the back giving it his best, “Woop, woop, woop, that’s what’s up!”

The next question was from a brunette girl in torn jeans and black t-shirt with a camera bag on her shoulder.

“This is for Gwen,” she said, “What was it like on the road with an all male crew. Did you feel sexual tension, or have issues with gaining their respect?”

“Well, no tension,” Gwen answered. “Jack and I dated twice, but we decided it was just a friendship. Um, as for respect, I think I proved myself just fine.”

The jock in the back chimed in again, “Ow! I’d like to see your prove yerself, what’re you doing tonight?”

“Sorry, buddy, I’ve had enough of sasquatches for a while,” Gwen quipped, which got a big laugh.

“Phil, what was your part in all of this?” a tall hipster wearing suspenders and a black pork pie hat asked.

Phil stood, nervously, he doesn’t like talking to crowds. I had promised him he wouldn’t have to talk unless he got called on, he had been hoping not to.

“I’m the only film maker crazy enough to travel with Jack. That, plus his mother made me swear not to let him out of my site until we get home for Christmas break, so…”

**A shadowy figure separated itself from the back wall and a deep voice filled the room. **

“Well, Jack Bannister,” the voice said. “Well done, but I wonder, what will your next adventure be?”

I laughed, although something about this man unnerved me to the core. “Well, we thought we might head to Orlando Florida and hunt a big eared Mouse!” I joked.

“Too bad, I was hoping you could help me catch an adult one of these, alive.”

From the top row of the lecture hall a black shape spun, soaring down the stairs and landing with a solid thump, on the floor, ten feet from us.

As it landed, the form came into focus. It was dark gray and about the size of a small dog, with tusks, almost no hair, and a snout that looked designed for ripping people to shreds. My pulse raced.

“What the hell is that?” I whispered to Phil.

“Chupacabra!” the man in black answered, stepping down the stairs.

He was dressed like a Johnny Cash impersonator, black jeans, black boots, black long sleeved shirt, and solid black sunglasses. Other than the man’s bootheels on the carpeted stairs, the room was silent. He held a black fedora in front of him, in both hands.

“This one decimated an entire herd of longhorn cattle.” He pulled a small remote from his pocket and the screen that was most recently filled with warm fuzzy images of our adventures lit up with a scene straight out of the X files.

At least four huge steers, their fawn colored hides painted red with blood, lay in a circle at this man’s feet, their throats ripped out, their bodies shrunken and shriveled.

“So, what do you say, Jack? Are you a one hit wonder, or, as was said last weekend at a conference I attended, are you the rising star of the Crypto Zoology world?” The man stopped at the bottom of the stairs and held his hands out, at his sides, palms up.

“Look, sir, we aren’t interested. We got our grant money and…” Phil stepped between me and the stranger, protectively.

**Gwen was standing, looking at me expectantly and the whole room was on edge. **

“I was asking your friend, if you don’t mind,” the man said. “Help me with this and I’ll pay off college. Hell, for all three of you. Fail, you get nothing. I need to know what this thing is and how to get rid of it, I got a hundred million dollar ranch sale riding on it. So, what’s it gonna be?”

The crowd, which had held its breath until now, began to chant, “Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack!” the volume rising as they pounded the desktops in front of them.

I held up my hands, the crowd got silent, except for the jock, “You’re the man Bannister!” he shouted, which got a chuckle.

“Sir, your offer sounds very tempting, but I’m going to have to decline.” I said.

Phil seemed to wilt with relief, “Oh, thank God.” He said. The crowd groaned its disappointment.

But, I wasn’t finished, “Unless you make it worth my time. A million for each of us…”

The crowd went crazy! Phil smacked his forehead with his hand, Gwen grinned ear to ear.

“And…” I continued, “A full filming rig for Phil, and enough money up front to cover expenses. So, put your money where your mouth is.”

The stranger tilted his head, eyeballing the three of us. He looked down to his devil dog corpse, sprawled on the floor, it’s hard body splayed out at odd angles.

“All right,” he said. “But, you have two weeks, and all the gear goes back if you don’t come through.” With that, he turned, leaving the corpse where it lay and walked straight up the stairs and disappeared from then room.

The room exploded.

Kids danced on tables, the jock hooted, girls swarmed both Phil and I. The professor, whose lecture hall we had taken over shook his head, Phil sank into a chair, head in his hands, Gwen kissed me. Maybe it wasn’t just a friendship thing? We’d have time to find out on the road.