Читать книгу The Zombie Book - Nick Redfern - Страница 52

Since at least the mid 1990s, the island of Puerto Rico has been the home of a terrifying, marauding animal that reportedly sucks the blood out of farm animals, chiefly goats and chickens. Its name is the Chupacabras, a Spanish term meaning—very appropriately—Goat-Sucker. Whatever the true nature of the monster, it’s clearly as unique as it is hideous. It sports fiery red eyes, a row of sharp spikes running from the back of its head to the middle part of its spine, pointed fangs, razor-like claws, and brings nothing but death and disaster to whomever or whatever it crosses paths with.

While the answers are few and far between concerning the true nature of the Chupacabras, the theories are many. For some, the Chupacabras is a giant bat. For others, it’s an extraterrestrial entity. Then there is the theory it’s something infernal and paranormal-based, something that was conjured up by occultists; but from where, exactly, remains unknown. There is, however, an explanation that is acutely different to all of those above, one which, in many ways, is even more disturbing. It’s also one that the average zombie aficionado can likely relate to and appreciate.

The Chupacabras, or Goat-Sucker, is sometimes described as a giant bat or extraterrestrial, but more often it is seen as a creature resembling an ugly canine.

Situated on Puerto Rico, and established back in the 1930s, is a facility called the Caribbean Primate Research Center. By its own admission, the work of the CPRC is focused upon “the study and use of non-human primates as models for studies of social and biological interactions and for the discovery of methods of prevention, diagnosis and treatment of diseases that afflict humans.” And its work is very well-respected: both the U.S. National Institutes of Health and the National Center for Research Resources provide significant funding for the center.

One of the most controversial aspects of the work of the Caribbean Primate Research Center is that devoted to the study of SIV, which is the monkey equivalent of HIV, the virus that leads to AIDS. Such work is undertaken by staff in the CPRC’s Virology Laboratory. There are longstanding rumors on Puerto Rico that the Virology Laboratory has been engaged in something else, too; something profoundly disturbing. According to the locals, back in the 1990s, highly secret research was undertaken at the CPRC that revolved around the deliberate infection of monkeys—specifically Rhesus Monkeys—with a real-life equivalent of the “Rage Virus” of 28 Days Later and 28 Weeks Later infamy.

The story continues that not long after the experimentation began, some of those same Rhesus Monkeys escaped from the CPRC—or were deliberately released from it—and made new homes deep in Puerto Rico’s El Yunque rain-forest. Savage, violent, and deadly, they were avoided at all costs by the staff of the CPRC, who knew only too well of their marauding, zombie-like behavior. To cover its tracks, however, the CPRC did something ingenious: it carefully spread stories that the monkeys were, in fact, Chupacabras—and lots of them, too. Circulating fear-filled tales of monsters would hopefully achieve three things: (a) it would keep people out of the area; (b) it would prevent people from becoming bitten and infected by the rage-inducing virus; and (c) it would ensure the CPRC received no backlash for its fringe-research into dangerous viruses. If the story is true, then the ruse worked very well, indeed. Belief in the Chupacabras quickly became widespread on Puerto Rico, and pretty much everyone forgot about the CPRC and its weird experimentation.