THERE BE DRAGONS (21 page)

“They look strong. They’ve been set into holes carved in rock and then rebuilt.” Cage patted the four feet of stone that rose from the ground.

Teacher took ahold of one of the bronze caps that held the rope in. He wiggled it. There was an unnerving amount of movement. “This doesn’t worry you?” he asked Cage.

“Leave that alone, Teacher,” said Cage.

“I think you should go last. I ain’t getting stranded over on this side,” said Teacher.

Smith stepped forward between Cage and Teacher, just as Cage moved into punching range. “I’ll

go last, Cage. Don’t sweat it. And Teacher, stop touching that,” he said.

“Thanks, Smith,” said Cage.

“You’re welcome, Corporal.”

“Teacher, get over here!” shouted Stephens.

Teacher walked away from the pillar. He gave it a kick as he did.

Cage went to go after him but Smith placed a hand on his chest. Cage sighed and let Teacher follow his order.

“Yeah, Sarge?” asked Teacher.

“We can’t have Jackson trying to carry that M-60 over. We all need both our hands. Strap it to his back,” ordered Stephens.

“How?”

“Use some initiative.”

“Huh?”

“Improvise, dumb ass.”

“Oh … okay.”

Teacher went to Jackson, but Buttons was already fixing the weapon to the black man’s back.

“Don’t worry, Teacher. Relax. You don’t have the pressure of having to think. I got this,” said Buttons.

“You trying to say I ain’t too smart?” asked Teacher.

“You’re the one saying that with every idiotic string of words you form,” said Buttons.

“You son of a …” Teacher lunged at Buttons.

Jackson grabbed Teacher’s neck. He squeezed.

Teacher was able to sputter out, “Okay ... y-y-you … win. I’ll … leave him alone.”

Jackson let go.

Teacher walked away and rubbed at the redness on his neck.

“Thanks, Jackson.”

“Don’t mention it. If he ever bothers you, just lemme know.”

“Will do,” said Buttons.

“I can put up with the guy, but he’s a loose cannon,” said Jackson.

“Right, the M-60 is as fixed as it can be,” said Buttons.

“Thanks.” Jackson jumped a few times to test it. “Oh boy, it somehow feels heavier being on my back.”

“Welcome to my world,” said Buttons as he pointed to his radio.

“Ah, yes, the trials and tribulations of being an RTO,” said Jackson.

“Some use the radio is doing, Moore hasn’t called anything in yet,” said the RTO.

“I’m guessing this mission ain’t within the bounds of normal military operation. Considering the dinosaurs and all.”

“You’re right.” Buttons smiled. “No matter how many times you say it, or anyone says it, it seems crazy to be throwing that word around.”

“That word threw you around, remember?” said Jackson.

“Don’t …”

“Okay, Jackson,” started Stephens.

“Yeah?” Jackson replied.

“Stop the mothers meeting,” said Stephens. “You’re up after me. Once I make it to the other side, you follow on, then set up the M-60 to cover the rest of the guys as they cross.”

“Yes, Sarge.”

Stephens slung his rifle over his shoulder and took ahold of the guidelines, one in each hand. They were slimy from rotting vegetation and his palms slid around too easily on them. He gripped as hard as he felt would be safe for the supporting wires of the rickety bridge. He stepped out onto the main cable, made of woven fiber. It felt like iron.

He looked at his feet as he walked. He was careful to not misplace a step. “I know the saying, no one should ever look down from a height, but finding footing and not falling from the height seems more important than childhood advice.”

He tested each spot, with the tips of his toes, before he put his full weight on it. He carefully pressed on, one boot after the other.

Below himself he saw the river. It had stones as sharp as knives, jagged and deadly. They littered the roaring waterway. “Shit, that river would drown any fallen man with its current and rapids and the rocks would pop one like a watermelon.”

He reached the halfway point, the sag. He looked over his shoulder. Jackson waited for his turn to cross. Stephens could see the rope that rose upwards to the cliff and the wobbly stone pillar.

He focused back on his path.

The climb up the catenary-arched rope was trickier than it had been going down. So much so, a foot slipped. It slipped right off the rope. He took a tighter hold on the guidelines.

One hand slipped, his butt touched the rope he had walked on, and the leg that had fallen hung in the air.

He managed to grab the guideline again, with the hand that had skidded. He tensed his upper body. He rose slowly, placed both feet back firm and started to walk.

Stephens made it to the other side of the cliff and unslung his rifle. He placed it to his shoulder and waved Jackson forward. He kept watch of the sky and the jungle that loomed behind the awaiting team.

• • • • •

Jacobs was bound to a bamboo crucifix by ropes. They held tight at his wrists and cut into the flesh. His legs dangled below him.

NVA Torturer and Cage Guard lifted the crucifix. They both shoved on a pole attached to it across a fulcrum.

The ground drew farther away. Jacobs caught a quick glimpse of Dragon Master before he was swung to his right. His arms strained and pulled as the bamboo cross came to a stop. Jacobs couldn’t lift his head anymore. “I’m drained, Lynch. Almost dead.”

“Crucified, just like your Jesus!” shouted Dragon Master. “With a few small differences, leniencies, if you will, yes? I have not pierced your wrists, merely bound them, nor have I driven a nail through your feet. I also assure you I will not crown you with thorns, nor stab your side with a spear. You see, I am less barbaric than the Romans. Don’t get me wrong, I admire their work, but I am a more compassionate host. ”

Below Jacobs was a pit that had been dug into the orange dirt, deep and wide. Around its sides was a bamboo fence. The sun was over Jacobs’s back. It made it possible for him to see to the bottom of the threatening hole.

The ground in the pit seemed to move like snakes piled atop of each other. The earth looked as if breathed. It bubbled. It was a thick liquid, with a texture of quicksand. Slimy, muddy, a cesspool of rot.

“Is it bubbling from heat or from the breath of a grotesque being living below it? I don’t really know if I can trust my eyes enough to make a decision. My creaking fingernails that are holding on to reality are being pulled from my flesh, like a trapdoor being lifted in a dank cellar. I’ve fallen into a whirlpool of insanity, Lynch. I mean, I’m talking to you, and you’re not even here. My brain is scrambled.”

The liquid in the pit below him smelt of excrement, rotten food, and of decomposed meat. It was all decayed, and merged into the compost, with ripples and bubbles of awful foul breath.

The bamboo and Jacobs started to descend into the pit, lowered by NVA Torturer and Cage Guard.

“Make a joke about this … Funny Man!” shouted Dragon Master.

The heaving slime grew nearer. Jacobs’s whole body was now in the shaft of the pit.

The goop touched his boots. He retched at the smell but no vomit came. “I’ve neither food nor liquid left in me. Only an insignificant amount of life is about me, furnishing my spirit. Maxwell was right. It’s never too late. I should write.”

The pudding of filth covered his feet.

Then with a sudden drop he was lower and up to his knees. There was a warm greasy squish. He gagged again. He felt as though he choked on the thickness of the air.

The slosh moved up him and covered his groin.

It moved up over his bare stomach.

He felt something small and squirmy move by him, brush over him. Chills ran through his body. “I shudder at the thought of what that might be, but I don’t want to know what it is. Is that good prose, Maxwell?”

He felt more creatures, this time they stuck to the skin of his chest and on his back. He felt them suck, bite, and sting him.

In a quick jolt, he dropped deeper into the yuck.

He had been plunged in up to his neck. The smell that rose up his nostrils was strong enough for him to taste it in his throat. It created an itch, but he didn’t cough.

He fought against his lack of strength and managed to hold his chin upwards from the slime. “I’m going to take as much air in as possible, even if the air is thick full of awful stench, is that good copy, Maxwell?”

His eyes strained at the blinding light above.“Please … help … me.” The words were labored and only just audible. “Please tell Him I need help, Diaz.”

He was lowered more and his head went under the protruded quicksand of vomit.

Jacobs held his breath and clamped his eyes shut.

The goo rushed into his ear holes and slime shot up his nostrils.

He couldn’t hold the air in any longer. He felt something lick at his face.

He passed into nothingness.

• • • • •

Jackson made it to the other side of the bridge and sergeant Stephens undid the M-60 from the private’s back. Jackson fixed the weapon into a position that overlooked the fall, towards the other cliff. He had leant it on a rock and he knelt in the cover for it.

Stephens looked down the sight of his CAR-15 so he could cover the bridge again. He waved the next man forward.

Teacher stepped out onto the bridge’s cable and slowly began to make his way over. He had taken only four steps when the thunder came.

Stephens looked to the sky and saw three dragons circling. He opened fire and so did Jackson.

The beasts shrieked at the sound of the weapons and began to dive. The first one headed towards Teacher.

Teacher moved as fast as he could over the bridge. Stephens took a shot at the dragon that aimed for him. The bullets hit, but it did not stop the animal’s dive.

Teacher ducked into a crouch as the dragon’s teeth clamped shut just inches from his head.

The beast continued its flight and headed back to a higher altitude.

The rest of the platoon at the other side of the bridge opened fire at it.

Bullets ripped into the dragon’s body and blood began to spout. It lost control of its flight pattern and collided with the cliff face. Its body knotted from the impact and fell to the jagged rocks below. It exploded; its guts zoomed like soppy fireworks into the air.

Teacher had charged forward and was halfway over the bridge now.

The second dragon dove. This one aimed towards Stephens and Jackson. Both the men fired at the creature but their shots missed.

The dragon zigzagged in the air. Its movements were erratic and its screams loud.

The top of its head smashed into Stephens’s face. He fell backwards and the impact knocked his rifle from him.

The dragon landed. It looked at the sprawled body of Stephens. Its legs straightened. It grew taller. Its neck began to coil.

Jackson spun the M-60 around and fired. The bullets cut into the dragon. Its legs buckled but it managed to turn towards Jackson. Once more it grew and its neck contracted.

Teacher fired and the buckshot hit the dragon’s neck. The animal exploded in a ball of fire. Its cries died and its body fell limp, still alight.

Teacher expelled the cartridge and helped Stephens to his feet.

They all took position back at the bridge to see Agent Moore start to charge across it. The bridge swayed from side to side. The cables creaked and the fixings in the stones wriggled.

The third dragon dove towards Moore.

The men fired at it from both sides of the bridge. Countless shots hit it and its trajectory changed several times, but it kept on target.

Its mouth opened and bit at Moore.

Stephens managed to unload half a mag into the animal. It began to plummet.

As it fell by the bridge, it managed to wrap its jaws around Moore’s left leg. The dragon hung from the limb, flapped its bloodied wings but gained no height.

Moore was losing his grip on the bridge. The weight of the animal was too much for him to carry.

Stephens dropped his CAR-15 and ran onto the bridge. As he raced forward, the bridge began to sway even more. Dust flew from the cables’ connections in the stone pillars.

Stephens made it to Moore. He drew the knife from his boot. He crouched down and leaned over the edge. He kept his other hand firmly gripped on a support cable as started to violently stab the blade into the dragon’s head.

One of Moore’s hands slipped. He cried in agony from the strain on his muscles. “I can’t hold on much longer!”

Stephens intensified the stabs. Blood covered the blade and his hand. The dragon’s head was a gloopy mess.

Stephens cried out in anger and slashed down a final stab.