The Devil's Assassin by Brian

before someone nearly trips over the gaucho’s lifeless body. He is
lying on his back, fear a mask on his face, his black hat on the ground next to
him.
    “Jesus Christas !” says the man who finds him. A few of the others
cross themselves and look over, and then walk over to see what the man is
looking at.
    Linus gazes out
over the grass, stonily.
    Arroyos bends down
and pulls up the man’s shirt. It is something which hardly seems necessary, but
Arroyos wants to be sure. He flings the shirt back down on the dead man.
    “He mocks us, the
devil. I shall relish spilling his blood into this very soil.” He stands up.
    “I think we
should make sure that everyone stays closer together,” says Linus.
    Arroyos laughs .
“Good suggestion, señor. How about suggesting something I am not thinking.
Surprise me! Why can’t the dogs smell this animal? Why can’t men who are
holding guns, shoot it. Will we all die out here looking for him while he takes
one of us here and one of us there?”
    Linus responds
angrily. “Here’s something you may not know, señor. This is a creature with a
head almost as big as yours or mine. I think he is smart enough to realize that
we’re hunting him, and I’d bet anything that he is hunting us now, not mocking
us. Just hunting. So as long as we’re out here, yes,
we’re all in danger. And it may not matter how careful we are. But that’s all
we’ve got.”
    Arroyos narrows his eyes at Linus. He did not expect the American to have an answer, and isn’t
used to having people speak without regard for his authority. He bends down to
close Santangelo’s eyes and puts the man’s hat over his face. Then he places
his hand over the man’s heart and takes it away. He looks up to Linus and then
to June from where he is.
    “Didn’t you
suggest to me that this animal had killed someone earlier this week? Did you
not also suggest that this animal and his friends have been killing people in
my country for thousands of years? Did he not kill Jorge? Did he not kill
Santangelo? I don’t care about any danger. We will be careful, but this is not
a ghost. He will succumb to us. Let him hunt us. Let him come to us. Then we’ll
know where he is.”
    Arroyos’ mood is
lighter. He smiles as he stands. His new resolve has convinced him that he can
catch the creature.
    “You see, you are
helpful, señor. And Pablo thought you two would be a couple of soft Norte
Americanos.”
    Linus is looking
out at the plains. In his mind he sees the creature in his basement, throwing a
leftover vegetable at him, then brandishing his lance.
The situation isn’t hopeless, but it doesn’t seem very hopeful either, here or
anywhere else where the creature and his brethren roam.
    ›
    There is a ring
of guards around the camp, some standing and some sitting. The many tents and
two campfires are inside this ring. It is after midnight and the people who are
not on watch are sleeping in the tents, or at least trying to. The men outside
on guard are occasionally yawning and stretching, but for the most part
everyone is awake and alert, guns at the ready.
    The creature is
watching the camp from a distance and he begins to creep quietly and very
slowly around the ring of guards. He is looking for the weakest link, the
sleepiest, least alert man. He finds one who has been yawning often, his eyes
closing for a few seconds at a time. Then he jerks awake and is somewhat
attentive for a few minutes. This is his target.
    The Maero is in
the tall grass. He begins to move slowly forward toward the man, toward the
flickering ring of orange light. He is moving slowly, cautiously, using all of
his evolution granted abilities of stealth to get closer to the sleepy man, who
is only four or five feet away from more alert companions on either side.
    It is almost
unchallenging for the creature.
    SQUEEEAAALLL.
    The sudden, loud,
high-pitched sound was enough to stop his heart with fear. The Maero felt the
furry lump as it squeezed out from