Dragon Bones

“There weren’t always dragons in The Valley.”

“Fascinating,” Gonzo grunted.

“Actually, that’s not quite right.” Doctor Fitzgerald did not appear to even register Gonzo’s remark. “It’s in the future tense. And of course, The Valley refers to the whole world, based on the context. There are not dragons in the world anymore.”

“Were they killed?” There was no immediate threat present, yet Gonzo’s hand on the grip of the rifle hanging across his chest comforted him. Made him feel in his element.

“What I’ve been able to decipher has no account of a slaughter of the creatures.” The doctor still examined the stone writing. “There is no account of what happened to them. It appears as though they simply disappeared.”

“Doubly fascinating,” Gonzo said. “Especially considering that dragons aren’t real.”

“What makes you say that?” Fitzgerald’s subconscious must have asked the question in an attempt to keep the conversation going, for the good doctor was preoccupied taking pictures of the inscription over the doorway.

“The fossil record,” Gonzo replied, eyeing the doctor’s assistants. Some held lights to illuminate his photographs while others cleared and cleaned more of the stone door frame. “There’s also not any written records of dragons.”

“Oh, the written records abound.” Fitzgerald motioned for a change in lighting and, when unhappy with it, moved to make the adjustment himself. Once back behind the camera, he continued as though never interrupted. “Gilgamesh, Beowulf, Saint George and the Dragon.”

“Right.” Gonzo rolled his eyes.

“You’re a religious man,” the doctor continued. “You believe the Bible, right?”

“Sure,” Gonzo agreed warily.

“Well, your good book references dragons several times,” Fitzgerald said. “Job, Daniel, Revelations.”

“Revelations is mostly symbolic,” Gonzo said. “Dragons represent the devil or evil.”

“True,” Fitzgerald, conceded. “And the others?”

Gonzo said nothing.

“Granted, the Leviathan referenced in Job appears to be a water-dweller with no reference to wings, though it definitely breathes fire. And, according to some, the account of Daniel and the dragon is apocryphal. Nevertheless, the fact remains that people have written about dragons for as long as history. Archeologists know this.”

“And fossils?” Gonzo asked.

“Ever heard of dinosaurs?” Fitzgerald said. “What makes you think some of them were not of the fire-breathing variety?”

“It just seems that if dragons were a thing, I would have heard about it.”

“Well, you do have a point there,” the doctor agreed. “Archeology and anthropology have yet to postulate a serious belief in dragons, either separately or together.”

“There you go,” Gonzo grunted.

“But that’s the thing about these fields,” Doctor Fitzgerald said. “We’re always learning new things. Once, we did not know much about the Egyptians. Now, we can read their language.” The doctor pointed to the scrawl above the blocked door frame. “This may be our generation’s Rosetta Stone. We might be staring history in the face!”

“If you say so, doc,” Gonzo said. “I don’t understand the excitement for some old scribbling on a wall.”

“Which is why you are in charge of security and not archeology,” Fitzgerald said dismissively.

“Speaking of which, I think I’ll go check on the sentries.” Gonzo headed for the crypt door.

“You can relax a bit, commander,” Fitzgerald said. “I hardly think we are in danger.”

“Someone did, doc,” Gonzo replied. “That’s why I’m here.”

Gonzo blinked as he stepped into the comparatively harsh light of the African jungle. The sun was blocked completely by the trees, perhaps half an hour above the horizon, yet any light felt overpowering after the oppressive darkness of the cave.

Gonzo made the rounds, checking each defensive fighting position, hastily constructed shelters set around the perimeter of the dig site. Each position was manned by two of his soldiers, scanning the surrounding area diligently. He exchanged pleasantries and a short conversation or two.

Next, he moved on to those people clearing the trees and underbrush away from the dig site. A quarter of the workers were his own men while the others came from Doctor Fitzgerald’s extensive ranks of assistants. The doctor had initially seemed hesitant to lend the manpower, being of the opinion that it was a great shame to destroy such beautiful foliage, but a conversation with Gonzo convinced him of the necessity, if not the desirability, of the action.

The work crews were getting along fine, and Gonzo’s final stop was with his second in command. Paul Figera was a two-decade member of the Australian army, intelligent and with nerves of steel which Gonzo had seen in action. He was soft-spoken by nature yet by demeanor alone was able to command the attention of a crowd and earn Gonzo’s respect. He perched on a stone spire atop the catacombs Doctor Fitzgerlad’s workers now inhabited, a position from which he could see all the soldiers under his command while keeping a bird’s-eye view of the potential battle space.

“See anything special, Fig?” Gonzo asked Paul from a few feet lower.

“Nothing to report,” Fig said. “It’s been as silent as a tomb out here.”

It was a relatively common phrase, but Gonzo detected something else in the words.

“Is there something I should know?”

“Nothing specific, sir,” Fig replied, scanning the jungle. “Just an uneasy feeling since we got here.”

“It’s not like you to get rattled by folklore.”

“Folklore, sir?”

“Dragons,” Gonzo answered. “Supposedly they used to rule this area.”

“First I’m hearing of it, sir,” Fig said.

“Hmm.” Gonzo studied his comrade. Despite his unease, Fig appeared to have the situation well under control.

“It’s probably nothing,” he said, still scanning the surroundings down the sights of his rifle.

“I’ve known you for a long time, Fig,” Gonzo said. “I may not believe in dragons, but I do believe your brain is trying to tell you something. When you figure out what it is, let me know.”

******

Gonzo and Fig sat at a folding table, eating healthy portions of rations which could almost be classified as appetizing. It had been over a week since arrival at the dig site, long enough for the palatized equipment to arrive. Now, rather than eating and sleeping under the rainforest foliage, they did so in tents.

Fuel for the on-site generators was logistically difficult to acquire, and much of it went to running the lights illuminating the perimeter during the night and the interior of the cave around the clock, leaving little to power the air conditioning units attached to each tent.

Such creature comforts were prioritized rigorously based on necessity followed by the maximum effect for the least amount of fuel. Since the chow tent serviced the entire crew, fuel was allocated to it, so the crew could enjoy their meals at a comfortable 68 degrees. It was a far cry from Gonzo’s days roughing it in the Army.

“What are you thinking about?” Gonzo asked Fig who was staring vacantly into the space before him.

“Sadie,” Fig answered, returning to his food, only momentarily forgotten.

“How’s she doing?”

“I talked to her two days ago, and she seemed fine,” Fig said. “Wishes I was home, of course, but that can’t be helped. She said the kids are driving her crazy.”

“Your children or the goats?” Gonzo asked.

“A little of both, I imagine.” Fig smiled. “Benjamin’s the only one left at home, so I imagine the animals more than anything else.”

“I’ve met Ben too many times to assume it couldn’t be him alone,” Gonzo said.

“He is the most bull-headed of the bunch.” Fig took a bite and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Just two more years, though.”

“Is that right?” The door to the tent opened, and Gonzo glanced over to see a dozen of Doctor Fitzgerald’s assistants enter. “Does he have any idea what he wants to do with his life?”

“Keeps saying he wants to join the military.”

“Trying to keep up with his old man,” Gonzo noted. “What’s Sadie think about that?”

“Doesn’t care for the idea,” Fig replied. “Kind of blames me for the whole thing, I think.”

“Tell her she’s got nothing to worry about,” Gonzo suggested. “The military is a good move, no matter which way you look at it.”

“And that, my friend, is why you’re not married!” Fig grinned. “You about finished?”

“With dinner, yes, but I think I want to go chat with the doctor.” Gonzo stood. “You can come if you want.”

“Why not.” Fig rolled his eyes. “I always enjoy mind-numbing conversations about old things.”

“The doc’s not as boring as you think,” Gonzo said. “Plus, we do kind of work for him, so humor him.”

“We work for him?” Fig snorted.

“Kind of,” Gonzo reiterated. “If you tell him I said that, I’ll deny it.”

The two crossed the short distance to Doctor Fitzgerald and sat opposite him at the compact table.

“Is this seat taken?” Gonzo asked.

“It is now,” the doctor replied. “By you.”

Gonzo waited a few beats before speaking.

“I’ve noticed something unusual, doc.”

“What’s that?” Doctor Fitzgerald asked. He took a large bite out of the cake on his fork.

“Your assistants. They’re all European, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” the doctor agreed. His tone indicated boredom with the topic. Certainly nothing was amiss.

“Isn’t that unusual?” Gonzo pressed. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to hire the locals?”

“Certainly,” Fitzgerald agreed. “They know more about the place, it would be cheaper, and logistically, it would be easier since we wouldn’t have to ship them in.”

“Then why aren’t you doing that?” Gonzo stared at the doctor over steepled fingers.

“I would if I could,” the doctor replied. Another bite of his cake, and he realized this was not a good enough answer for Gonzo. Sighing, he set his fork down. “The locals won’t go near this place.”

“Why?” Fig asked.

“It’s hard to say exactly,” the doctor replied. “They don’t talk about it.”

“Best guess?”

“A curse of some sort, no doubt,” Doctor Fitzgerald opined. “I’ve seen very little else to inspire this sort of fear.”

“And when were you going to tell me?” Gonzo asked.

“Should I have?” Fitzgerald picked his fork up once more and took another bite of the dessert on it. “I didn’t think the details or existence of a curse would interest the chief of security.”

“Well, I am interested,” Gonzo said.

“You can’t actually believe in this curse or these dragons.” The doctor’s stare held just a tinge of condescension.

“I don’t believe in those things,” Gonzo agreed. “I’ve said as much already, but I am very concerned with the effects belief in them might produce.”

“Such as?” Doctor Fitzgerald asked.

“Perhaps we are desecrating the sacred site of the local population,” Fig offered. “Perhaps the only way for them to receive the favor of their gods is to remove the desecration. Desperate people rarely ask nicely for you to leave, and if they did, you wouldn’t go anyway, would you?”

The doctor was silent.

“Look, doc, I’m not angry with you,” Gonzo said. “We’re safe, and that’s what matters. Just, in the future, I need you to tell me these things, even if you don’t think it pertains to my duties.”

“You’re right,” Doctor Fitzgerald agreed. “I had not considered the possibility which has led to this glaring oversight. I will not make the same mistake in the future.”

“That’s all we’re asking for, doctor.” Fig started to stand but stopped when Gonzo didn’t move.

“How’s the dig going?” the commander asked.

“As well as can be expected,” Fitzgerald replied. “We’ve categorized and packaged all of the artifacts from the first chamber. Now our efforts are focused on the door.”

“Uncovered any more writing?”

“Bits and pieces,” the doctor replied. “The words on the sides of the door frame were in direct contact with the boulders which fill the opening. Some of them have been broken off completely. Others may still be covered, but we won’t know until we complete more of the excavation.”

“Good to hear, doc,” Gonzo said, finally rising from the table. “Can my men and I help at all?”

“The chances of that are slim. Nevertheless, I appreciate the offer.”

“You let us know if there’s anything we can do to help,” Gonzo said.

“Anything to get us out of here faster,” Fig muttered as they left the chow tent.

“Amen to that.”

******

Fig looked around the small cavern, taking in the stone carvings, acoustically perfect design, and shadows always engulfing the apex of the chamber.

“This is what we’re protecting?”

“We’re protecting the people, Fig,” Gonzo corrected. “People and artifacts, and this site has both of them.”

“I mean, it’s nice, but it seems like a lot of hullabaloo about nothing.”

“All you’re seeing is the room.” Gonzo headed to a stack of wooden crates. “They collected and packed all the really interesting artifacts already.”

“More interesting than this?” Fig snorted. “I don’t think I can handle the anticipation.”

Gonzo pulled a mostly intact vase from one of the crates and held it for his friend to see. “Check this thing out.”

“Are you crazy?” Fig hissed, moving toward Gonzo. “Put that thing back before anyone sees you!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gonzo replied. “I’ve been helping the doc now and then for weeks, and he lets me handle the artifacts now. Says I have the perfect grip for it: not too firm and not to gentle. I’ve even helped him with the excavation sometimes.”

“Are you turning into an archeology nerd on me?” Fig was startled at the excitement in Gonzo’s voice. It seemed incongruous to see the large man cradling the ancient pottery so delicately. He was a trained destroyer, not an admirer of dusty relics.

“I’m not a nerd,” Gonzo retorted. He extended the vase for Fig to see better. “I just think this image here is pretty cool.”

“What is that, a dragon?”

“They seem to be the theme of this place.”

“Are those insects around it?” Fig squinted at the vase in the dim light. “Why is it biting the heads off of ants?”

“Those are people,” Gonzo explained. “This dragon seems to have been highly respected and feared by whoever made these.”

Another figure depicted a host of soldiers bowing to the dragon.

“Is it a monster or a god?” Fig asked.

“Doc says it could be either, but I’m guessing a monster.” Gonzo placed the vase carefully back in the crate and pulled out a damaged tablet. A broken image, almost certainly of the same dragon, covered the stone, but Gonzo pointed to letters carved in relief below it. “This says something like Destroyer of Worlds.”

“Cheery,” Fig said. He looked at it uncomfortably for a few moments. “Can you put it away now?”

Gonzo replaced the tablet.

“Despite your denial, it seems like you are turning into a nerd,” Fig laughed, a jovial smirk back on his face.

“Whatever.” Gonzo headed for a glow at the far end of the cavern. “This is the best part of the whole thing.”

The glow was caused by the light from mobile fixtures bouncing off the carved surfaces of the walls and halls of the chamber. The lights themselves pointed at the massive stone doorframe, at least twenty feet high. The capstone of the arch looked to weigh several hundred pounds, big enough to crush a man if ever it fell. Fig appeared to have lost his voice, simply staring slack jawed at the massive structure before him.

“The writing up there says: There are not any dragons in the whole world anymore,” Gonzo said. “Pretty cool, right?”

“No dragons, huh?” The smile was back on Fig’s face. “Is that what passes for a revelation in this career field?”

“Shut up,” Gonzo said, but a smile was on his face too. He waved at the crowd of workers crawling over the face of the doorframe via scaffolding. “Hey doc!”

“Hello, Mr. Gonzalez,” Doctor Fitzgerald came to greet them. “Mr. Figera, this must be your first visit in here.”

“It’s bigger than I expected,” Fig commented, staring up at the door. He motioned to the swarm of archeologists. “What are they doing?”

“The doorframe has been completely exposed and photographed,” the doctor explained, leading Gonzo and Fig down to the base of the scaffolding. “We are now devoting all our effort to excavating the rubble which is blocking the door.”

“I can clear it out for you a lot faster, doc,” Gonzo said. “The offer still stands if you want to take me up on it.”

“Yes, I am aware of your methods, Mr. Gonzalez,” Fitzgerald said. “While I’m sure you are an expert in the use of dynamite, I find your assessment that you will use small enough charges to do a minimal amount of damage to be somewhat less than ideal.”

“So you’re using picks?” Fig asked incredulously.

“It is a bit slower,” the doctor conceded. “Still, it is a time-honored method of excavation and will do practically no damage to the door frame.”

“Not a lot of progress for the past couple days, is there, doc?” Gonzo noted. “Seriously, is there anything we can do to help?”

“While the first layers of rubble were relatively easy to remove, it unfortunately appears that some sort of naturally occurring cementitious material has spilled over much of the blockage, making it difficult to remove.”

“Like trying to bust up concrete?” Fig asked.

“Worse,” the doctor answered. “Fortunately, we believe we have found a seam in the formation and have been making somewhat better progress today.”

“You sure you don’t want my dynamite?” Gonzo joked.

“I would sooner make picks from my femurs and use those to excavate than to let your uncouth methods anywhere near the dig.”

“Was that a joke, doc?” Gonzo looked with surprise as the scientist.

“Perhaps. I regret that I must return to my work. You are welcome to stay and observe as long as you wish.”

“What do you think?” Gonzo asked as he and Fig retraced their steps through the cavern.

“Impressive,” Fig said. “A little creepy too, especially the door.”

“As bad as the feeling you had when we showed up?”

“Nowhere near that bad,” Fig replied. “My initial unease if pretty much gone now. Either my mind was playing tricks of me, or the danger, whatever it was, has passed.”

******

“Mr. Gonzalez, are you there?”

Gonzo wiped his fingers on the front of his shirt before keying the walkie-talkie.

“I’m here, doc. What’s up?”

“We appear to have a bit of a problem in here.” Fitzgerald’s voice crackled and sputtered though the speaker. “Come you get in here and bring your men?”

Gonzo stood and stuffed what remained of his lunch in a cargo pocket.

“What’s the situation?” Gonzo asked as he began to scale the steps cut into the hill and leading up to the cavern.

The walkie-talkie remained silent save for a squeal of static.

“Doc, are you there?” Gonzo asked. “Come in, doc.”

There was only silence in response. Gonzo keyed his radio again.

“Gonzo calling Fig.”

“This is Fig,” the radio squawked. “Go ahead.”

“Gather as many of the men as you can and enter the dig site,” Gonzo ordered. “Leave only a minimally manned perimeter guard.”

“Roger.”

Gonzo snapped his radio onto his vest and sprinted up the steps toward the cave. The lack of a rifle and his usual body armor made it easier to run. He kept his pace quick, racing three paces across each of the massive steps before leaping to the next. The way was smooth and without hazard, and he reached the cavern entrance quickly, and only slightly out of breath.

The cave seemed pitch black after being outside, but he knew the way by heart these days. Forcing his breathing into a more controlled rhythm he felt the sidearm strapped to his leg but refrained from drawing it. He regretted his decision several weeks ago to only arm himself with a pistol and no armor. It was more comfortable on a day-to-day basis, but now he just felt naked.

After a few seconds of adjustment to the darkness, he stalked sure-footed across the expanse. He felt with his hands for anything in the way, but his memory served him well enough. Every fiber of his being wanted to run, but he forced himself to stay in check.

“Slow is smooth; smooth is fast,” he muttered. “It doesn’t matter how fast you get there if it’s with a broken ankle.”

The light was brighter now, and he had almost reached the final turn to the door room when a roar blasted through the air. Not a roar, but an earthquake, for the ground shook mightily, nearly throwing him to his knees. It last but a few moments, and he rounded the corner on the most incredible and terrifying scene of his life.

A gigantic, scaly head poked through a gaping hole in the rubble blocking the door. It jerked about, this way and that, trying to free itself from the stony grip holding it in place. Cat-like pupils rolled around, taking in the room in a series of jerky glances.

Gonzo swore. The rational side of his brain was nowhere to be found and for a moment, he threatened to be reduced to a jibbering mess. Then the part of his character, forged from years in the fires of military service, surfaced. “I wonder if bullets will take it down.”

Gonzo drew his pistol and advanced on the lizard’s head. Sixteen sharp cracks burst from the gun as he targeted various parts of the head. Sixteen bullets ricocheted off the scales in all directions, blasting chips of stone wherever they were redirected. Gonzo swore he even hit the eye, only to face the same result. Blast this invincible creature! What would it take to put it in the ground?

The head roared and thrashed, knocking workers to the ground to join the host of their comrades already there, toppled and crushed by the initial avalanche of rubble. At least half the workers were scattered in various stages of brokenness. Some looked like they might still be alive, and saving them might be an option. Gonzo almost went to help the nearest one, but once again, his training held him in place. Eliminate the threat first, then help the wounded.

He slapped a new magazine into his firearm and squeezed the trigger several more times, targeting areas below scales, the nostrils, and the mouth. The final target made a little traction, causing the beast to flinch. It bellowed in anger and, for the first time, let loose a torrent of flames. The fire licked the cavern ceiling, forced there by the angle of the creature’s head, still held fast by the rocks.

“Gonzo calling Fig.” Gonzo stared at the head in disbelief; never in his life had he ever faced a creature so tough.

“This is Fig.”

Gonzo keyed his mic, still staring in awe at the dragon.

“Get some heavy weapons in here!” he barked over the ear piercing cacophony.

“Say again?”

“Heavy weapons!” Gonzo shouted. “And get everyone in here ASAP. We’ve got work to do!”

Gonzo fired on the dragon again, emptying another magazine and reloading. He scanned the area, taking in any details he had missed since his arrival. Many of Doctor Fitzgerald’s crew crawled, limped, and dragged each other toward Gonzo and the entrance. Meanwhile a group of archeologists, about half of those remaining, were trapped in a shallow alcove on the far side of the room. The watchful eye of the dragon and its erratic thrashing kept them in place, while the constraints placed upon its movement were the only thing keeping them alive.

“Doc!” Gonzo recognized the man staggering past him, shock clear in his face. “What happened?”

“The door was right,” the doctor muttered to himself.

“That’s just great.”

A shaking knocked Gonzo to the ground, and he collected himself, rising to stare straight into the eye of the dragon.

“Gonzo!” Fig, followed by two dozen of the security detail, pushed his way through the fleeing workers, scanning the crowds, and trying to take in as much as possible. He spotted Gonzo seconds before seeing the dragon.

A string of obscenities left Fig’s mouth. His rifle was already locked on the target and ready to fire.

“What is that thing?!” he exclaimed.

“I’ll give you a hint. It breathes fire!” Gonzo shouted. “First thing’s first though, we need to get the civilians out of here. Fig, take two people. The rest of us will distract the beast while you get them out of here.” Gonzo pointed to the archeologists, still trapped by the dragon. “Hooah?”

“Hooah.” It took only a handful of seconds for Fig to choose his team and leave.

“Alright,” Gonzo addressed the remaining soldiers. “We’re going to concentrate some fire on the weak spots of the beast. Start with the left eye.”

The reports of twenty-two rifles filled the already deafened area. The beast growled, roared in pain or frustration, and jerked its head. Whether by the ricocheting bullets or the sheer strength of the dragon, the rubble around its head began to crack, and the hole in the rubble widened.

“Keep it up!” Gonzo bellowed. “He definitely felt that!”

The dragon jerked, once more widening the hole, this time sufficiently to extract its head. There was silence, no more beastly bellows nor sharp gun shots. Fig and his team quickly lead the archeologists toward safety. But the window of free movement was short-lived. The dragon lunged through the hole again, sending chucks of rock flying and knocking people off their feet. Boulders bounced like pebbles across the room, crushing anyone in their way.

Gonzo struggled to a knee and saw the dragon force one forelimb and then the other through the tight hole. It wiggled and trashed, its fire scorching the cavern walls as it tried to wiggle through an opening too tight for it.

“Reengage the target!” Gonzo shouted to his men. “Aim for the near leg. Target the joints.”

The rifles exploded in action once again, this time with less effect than before. The monster seemed impervious to the weapons which served only to enrage it. It’s burning eyes swung toward Gonzo who found himself locked in their fiery gaze.

“Take cover!” he shouted, diving behind a boulder as a wave of fire engulfed the area. Many of his soldiers had heard him in time, but a half dozen were too far from safety. The fire was so hot that there were no screams, no last second staggering or crying in the throes of death. The six men were there one moment and the next, their charred husks toppled to the floor, disintegrating on impact.

Shouting drew Gonzo’s attention, and he saw that the heavy weapons had arrived. Two soldiers, each with a Javelin Missile, stood at the room’s entrance, jaws agape.

“Get those missiles on target, soldier!” Gonzo shouted. He motioned to some others. “Go help them. Aim for the head and the chest.

Soldiers scrambled to help their comrades. Readying the missiles took mere seconds, then the munitions were sent streaking toward their targets. The first one hit the dragon’s chest, exploding on impact and blowing more rock and debris free. The second impacted the head at an angle, skating off toward the roof. It hit the doorframe capstone, blasting the chunk of rock free to plummet two stories to the floor.

With the capstone now gone, the rest of the door frame cascaded to the floor, taking with it much of the rubble holding the dragon in place. As the boulders fell away, the full awesome figure of the beast was finally visible. Four legs, two wings, a muscular tail boasting nasty spikes, and everything covered in shining scales which rippled with the muscle beneath them. This was the stuff of legends which Gonzo had never taken seriously.

Sensing its freedom, the beast gave a ear shattering shriek, gathered its legs beneath it, and burst forward in a flurry of wings. It blasted past Gonzo and his men and out the entrance of the cavern, leaving a tornado of wind in its wake.

“What the devil was that?” Fig stood near Gonzo, most of the people he had set out to rescue a few paces behind him. “I don’t believe this.”

“One thing’s for sure,” Gonzo said, grimly turning to face the pile of rubble which had once been a doorframe. The writing was long demolished, but he could still clearly see it in his memory. “Dragons have officially returned to the valley.”