THERE BE DRAGONS (29 page)

The dragon made a loud vocalization and it snapped forward. Its teeth grabbed the M-60 and its head shook. The gun was thrown from Jackson.

Jacobs picked up a stone by his feet and threw it at the dragon. It hit the beast.

The creature whipped its head around to the lieutenant. Without looking at Jackson, it lashed one of its wings out. It smacked Jackson and he was flung off his feet into the air. He hit the trunk of a tree. His body bounced off the bark then the jungle floor.

The dragon moved to Jacobs.

Suddenly shots rang out. Bullets hit the dragon.

The dragon turned around to face the hut.

Diaz was standing in its fiery doorway. His M-16 aimed at the deadly reptile.

The dragon took to the air with a crack of thunder and dove at Diaz.

Diaz fired at the flying dragon. He missed.

The dragon landed to face him.

Diaz’s gun ran dry.

The dragon snapped and Diaz was forced back into the burning hut.

The dragon got as close to the hut as possible and snapped through the door into the building at Diaz.

“As it is written!” shouted Diaz. “For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are counted as sheep for the slaughter!”

The first barracks blew, then the next, and then the other. The temperature rose and flames and fireballs shot into the sky.

Then the hut exploded. The blast took the dragon and Diaz with it.

“No!” yelled Jacobs. He stared in horror at the burning remains of the building.

“Jacobs?”

The lieutenant turned to see Stephens and Moore. They were holding up Jackson.

“Stephens, it’s Diaz! He was in the hut!”

“No time to cry now, Jacobs. We gotta get outta this base,” said Stephens.

They ran.

Stephens and Moore did their best to carry the injured Jackson.

Another explosion roared.

A guard tower blew and bamboo shot around the destroyed base.

The last standing tower went up just as the four men ran past it.

They charged through the gates and by the sentry box, more explosions behind them. One of the blasts was the gates and the other the sentry box. This detonation was too close. They all got taken off their feet.

They rolled in a mess of men. Burning wood crashed down around them.

Jacobs looked back at the base and saw a dragon tangled in barbed wire. It didn’t suffer for long though.

The ground towards the rear of the base started to collapse. In a wave, the firmament vanished into a crater. It consumed the whole of the compound, took the tangled dragon with it and finished once it had sunk the section the gates and sentry box had sat on.

“Mission accomplished,” said Moore.

Jacobs got to his feet. It was an effort. His body was a haunted mess. He’d been through hell. His legs were unsteady and his breathing was fast and hard. Leaves and dirt were stuck to the blood on his mass. He looked like he’d camouflaged himself for jungle operations.

Smoke rose from the massive hole the base had fallen into.

No dragons could be seen or heard.

Moore stood up and joined Jacobs in looking at the crater.

Stephens helped Jackson to rest with his back on a tree. “You okay, soldier?” asked Stephens.

“I will be. I just need a few moments to chill,” said Jackson.

“You’ve got them.”

“Thanks, Sarge.”

Stephens made his way back to Jacobs and Moore. As he passed by the beaten lieutenant, he tapped him on the shoulder and said, “I don’t know how you’re still alive, but you must be a very strong-willed individual.”

“Thanks,” Jacobs said.

“So, Agent Moore. Is that it?” asked Stephens.

“Pretty much. Just a few loose ends,” answered Moore.

“Them being?” said Stephens.

Moore reached down to hold at his shin. “Damn it.”

“What’s wrong? You been hit?” Stephens said.

“I think so.” Moore undid the tops of his bootlaces, rolled his pants up slightly and reached into the footwear.

He pulled out a .38 Special revolver and shot Jacobs.

Jacobs flew back into the dirt.

Stephens grabbed ahold of Moore’s wrist and stepped to the side of the agent’s body. He twisted the wrist back on itself and pulled it towards the ground. Moore flipped sideways and impacted with it.

Stephens twisted the wrist again and the grip on the gun was broken. The .38 fell to the jungle.

Stephens quickly picked it up. He aimed it at the CIA operative. Moore just slivered backwards on his butt.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” yelled Stephens.

“Tying up loose ends.”

“What did you do to the rest of my platoon? The ones who didn’t come on this mission?”

“Stephens, Jacobs is dying!” Jackson was knelt by Jacobs’s body.

“We had them killed, of course,” Agent Moore answered.

Stephens shot Moore four times in the chest. “Of course.” He turned and walked over to Jackson and Jacobs. He looked down at them.

“I don’t think there is anything we can do,” said Jackson.

“I’m afraid you’re right, Private.” Stephens hung his head.

“I’m sorry, Jacobs,” croaked out Jackson.

Jacobs just looked into the night and started to count the stars.

“Jackson?”

“Yeah, Sarge?” Jackson looked up at Stephens.

“I had a chance to talk to the captain. Do you know what that means?”

“No.” Jackson was confused.

Stephens placed the .38 to Jackson’s temple and pulled the trigger.

Jackson’s lifeless body fell next to Jacobs.

“That stupid nigger reported an incident he shouldn’t have, Jacobs,” Stephens spoke to himself more than Jacobs. “I did our platoon a favor by killing a man who wasn’t fit for the job. I thought I might have to do that do you. But then you proved yourself to be fit for the job. But times change. Look at you now. You’re most definitely not fit for the job.”

Stephens aimed and fired.

Click.

The gun was empty.

Jacobs smiled. “Our father, who art in heaven—”

Then the thunder came.

Peter Hallett originates from Haydock, England. He has written scripts for independent movies and worked for a leading genre publication. There Be Dragons is his first novel.

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