Copyright (c) 1996 by M. H. Glenn
Sundays in the tropics are incredibly dull. The locals are all in church or on the beach, and everything's closed until Monday. Even the Bad Guys take the day off. Nothing to do except lie around, catch up on one's mail and read a few books. I'd found a paperback written by someone named Richard A. Knaak and was sitting in my hangar office reading it as the day waned.
It was a fairly good book, but unfortunately Knaak's plot was a little transparent to someone in as paranoid a profession as mine. I liked the way he treated dragons, though...
...But I just don't get this thing about caves: Why in the world would any intelligent, winged creature tolerate being cooped up in some dank cave, where one of one's greatest assets becomes nothing more than an annoying hindrance?
I shrugged and sighed, then propped my feet up on my desk. Humans. A pause, then I laughed at myself. But then again, what would life be like without them? Boring as hell, I'd think...
A few more hours and I finished the book, put it away, then headed back to my quarters. I shuffled out the airfield gate, waving good night to the bored MP. As I walked, I looked up into the sky. It was a beautiful night, one of the rare occasions during the rainy season that one had a completely clear sky, and a full moon to boot. I gazed upwards at all those stars as I walked, then suddenly realized that I'd never flown under a full moon.
Well, why not?
I grinned to myself, then altered my course, heading uphill into the base housing area. The ground rose steeply as I passed through Family Housing, and the hulking black masses of the twin hills that flanked the eastern side of the base loomed ahead.
My latest route up into the jungle forced me to pass through one house's back yard, unfortunately the home of a noisy little grey and white dog of an indeterminate breed. It'd made an ungodly racket the first several times I went by; on one occasion nearly causing an embarrassing confrontation, but then the dog and I had a nice little get-together one night while the family was out. These days, the mutt simply crouches in a corner of the yard just as far away from me as he can get, and lets me by without so much as a whimper.
It was with some small relief that I stepped into the undergrowth undetected . . . then I frowned as I noticed the way leading up the hill: I was beginning to beat a path. Time to change the route again...
A short time later I pulled up just short of my tiny clearing on the far side of the hill and carefully checked the little items I'd rigged about its perimeter. Untouched: I relaxed slightly. Had any been disturbed, I would have immediately left and never come back.
I double-checked the last of them, then moved to the edge of the forest and sat, pulling off my shoes. A strong current of anticipation ran through me as I stripped, then carefully sealed my clothing into the dark green plastic bag I'd concealed here several weeks earlier. I paused, gathering myself, then closed my eyes and concentrated.
There was the usual feeling of pressure, then sudden release. I felt my muscles writhe beneath my skin like a sack full of snakes, and the dull, nauseating ache of bones bending into new shapes.
Another moment, then my now-taloned hands hit the ground before me with a thump. Keeping my eyes closed for a moment longer, I luxuriated in the sensations flooding in from what I consider my true form. I stretched sinuously, my back and neck arching, tail coiling, my wings spread to their fullest extent. A strange ecstasy welled up within me as my body tried to expand to its proper size, but I quickly put a stop to that.
Finally I opened my golden eyes and looked down at my metallic scales. I ran my hands down them, reveling in their cool smoothness. My mane jangled as I shook myself, then swung my head around to carefully inspect my huge silvery wings. I flexed my finger-struts gently, stretched the webs, then stepped out into the open and looked about me.
The forest was clear. I carefully scanned the sky, both my long forked tongue and my snout testing the wind. All clear. Good. With no further delay I crouched, then launched myself upwards. My wings sliced upwards, my double pectorals contracted powerfully, and the ground sank silently away. Again, I felt that wild surge of triumph that always boils up inside me when I take to the air; swelling within me until I felt as if I would burst from sheer joy. Flying! I am FLYING!
Safely clear of the trees, I cut sharply to the right to avoid a cluster of homes below. As I swung past the rotating beacon perched atop the hill, I hissed a quiet greeting to the hulking ebony shapes roosting along the tower's upper railings. The huge black vultures croaked back sleepily, then settled back down as I soared away.
The grim creatures had been my first acquaintances in my new life, first tolerating, then accepting my clumsy, silver-grey form in their midst. I'd learned much from them, to the point that I no longer needed my beloved storms to lift my bulk free of the ground. I owed them a lot, and they were always welcome at my kills.
I angled east, heading for one of the first things they'd taught me: There's a constant wind that blows from the north down the cut of the canal, and this next hill's northeastern flank deflects a goodly portion of it upwards into a massive updraft.. Right... About....
Here. I felt a powerful surge within the webs of my wings and the ground began to rapidly dwindle. I circled, keeping myself within that rising column of air until I was high enough to be safe from curious eyes below.
Pulling out of the column I headed for the interior, and soon the lights of civilization were well behind me. Safe now, I felt that delicious feeling of expansion ripple through me as I permitted myself to rapidly swell to full size.
My mane prickled, lifting slightly as I felt my way from one thermal or updraft to the next. On occasions I wouldn't find any, and would reach out and nudge one of the large masses of warm, wet air lurking near the ground. It'd obligingly destabilize, begin to rise, faster and faster as the air about it cooled. Then I'd reach it; the rising thermal boosting me upwards as I passed through, heading for the next.
I looked back at the newborn cumulus cloud poufing up into existence behind me. This was a still-developing talent of mine; an outgrowth of my ability to draw and absorb lightning, and I had to be very careful with it. The atmosphere down here in the tropics literally seethes with thermal energy seeking an outlet, and it's very easy to start something that you cannot stop. Once, several months earlier, I got careless with this power, and the wild storm that resulted had very nearly washed my little base right off the face of the earth.
Onward I flew, my huge wings casting a vast shadow across the moonlit jungle below, the terrain quickly growing more broken. I had never been this way before, and I looked about below myself as I went, scanning new territory.
This was wonderful. I rarely had the chance to fly in clear skies, and the view was beyond belief. I was high enough that both oceans were visible to me. The moon and stars wheeled above me, seemingly brighter and clearer than I had ever seen them before.
I tilted my wings and swung my tail, turning southwest. There wasn't supposed to be much out this way except for the occasional farm or ranch, and I didn't feel like feeding tonight, so this looked like the ideal area to just mess around.
I bared my teeth in a reptilian grin, then slid into a dizzying series of lazy-eights. I intentionally stalled myself on the tenth repetition, then dove, building up speed, suddenly pulling up into a wing-wrenching inside loop. I worked on my aileron rolls, trying to see how many times I could spin on my long axis before losing control...
I stalled again, recovered, then flew in more mundane manner for several minutes, catching my breath. I watched the jungle slide by below as I remembered a certain young man who'd hung on an airport fence years ago, watching the aircraft, possessed by a strange, all-devouring hunger for flight...
The corners of my hard mouth turned upwards slightly. If I could have appeared before that young man as I now was, what would he have given for my wings?
I rolled inverted, then flew on my back, basking in the moonlight for several minutes before righting myself. Snort! What wouldn't he have given?!? I silently laughed at myself, then sighed and watched my shadow skip the treetops. So many years wasted; spent plodding along the dusty ground, tortured by strange hungers no one could understand, ignorant of the truth that would have set me free--
WHAM!
Impact! Collision! I staggered in the air, shaking my swimming head as I fought to right myself. What the hell was that? What had I hit?
WHAM!
I grunted in pain at the blow across the small of my back, my dorsal spines snapping erect too late. I swung my head about, this time getting a glimpse of my attacker.
A strange sight greeted me: A green, iridescent ribbon of a body framed by huge wings silhouetted itself against the sky for a moment. Its snakelike head swung to look at me, then gave vent to a shrill hissing scream as it dove at me again.
That scream choked off into a startled squawk as I breathed azure flame at the apparition and the creature twisted frantically aside, leaving behind a wisp of smoke and the stench of burnt feathers. A pause, then, as we circled each other warily, and I finally got a good look at my adversary.
A long, cylindrical body, snakelike save for four stubby legs tucked up against its sides, both body and birdlike wings covered with opalescent feathers of an incredible shade of green. Two baleful eyes as golden as my own glared at me from a serpent-like head adorned with a flamboyant feathered crest.
A memory stirred, then surfaced. Kulkulcan: The Feathered Serpent of Central American legend. I was facing this region's version of a dragon! I backed my wings, then slowly began to edge away. I didn't want to fight another dragon. God knows, I suspect we're few enough as it is without us killing each other. . . .
Instantly the quetzalcoatl bored in with a triumphant hiss. I tried to warn it off with my flame, but she avoided it easily this time, her whip-like tail dealing my belly a stunning blow in passing.
. . . .Yes, I said "her." I'd caught the creature's scent this time, and now I really didn't want to fight. But she wasn't going to give me the option. Scarcely had I begun to recover from this attack than she did a low, raking pass along my topside, her claws glancing harmlessly off my metallic scales. I used the momentary respite to twist away from her and dive for the treetops with her hot on my tail.
The wind rapidly built to a crescendo roar as the jungle reached for me, then just short of catastrophe I suddenly backed my wings, my adversary overshooting me as I whipstalled and dropped into the trees.
A moment's concentration, and the deadly plummet suddenly became a gentle fall as most of my mass vanished. I pulled up, then perched my now-tiny self upon a tree branch and watched through the overhead foliage as my pursuer wrenched herself around, then came back, searching the jungle beneath her, her bafflement showing in a hissing screech of rage.
She circled for a few minutes, looking for me, then evidently gave up and flew away in a westerly direction. After a few moments I followed, quietly fluttering from treetop to treetop in her wake.
A few minutes travel like this and she abruptly dropped from sight. I hesitated, then began to carefully approach the spot where she'd disappeared, eventually coming upon a small, ragged clearing. I studied it from my branch, then spied the last few feet of her tail vanishing into a large, square opening in the side of what I'd mistaken for a small hill.
I paused, considering, then began to skirt the clearing, approaching the dark hole from the side. Soon I found myself slithering over huge blocks of cut stone that lay scattered as if strewn about by some enormous child. Some sort of ancient ruin. Too far north for Incan. Mayan? Probably. Perhaps some far-flung outpost of fabled Copan. If so, the irony was delicious. . . .
Eventually I reached the edge of the opening. I waited there for several long minutes, listening, hearing only the occasional rustle of feathers from within. Carefully I slipped inside, ready to zoom to full size at the barest hint of attack.
Nothing happened. My eyes quickly adapted to the gloom within and I found myself gazing at a heap of branches, strips of cloth, plastic, whatever, all jammed or woven together to form a huge nest. Within the nest my fine feathered foe lay coiled, her head just inside the chamber's opening, eyes watching the skies. And carefully nestled within her coils. . . .
I blinked, stared, then nodded to myself. Now I could understand a little better why she had attacked me. The three eggs were huge, each almost double the size of a footlocker, each a pale grey-white in color.
I looked at them for several long minutes, unfamiliar emotions running through me, then I turned to study their feral mother. At first she seemed as stunningly beautiful as before, but then I began to notice things; like the deeply sunken eyes and the way her ribs showed. In places, her plumage was beginning to fall out. This creature was not many days away from death by starvation.
Silently I slunk away, leaving the cave with almost as many questions as I'd had when I entered. Why wouldn't she hunt? Where was her mate? I shook my head in annoyance as I fluttered away, quickly regaining size as the clearing receded behind me. Useless questions. The only one that mattered was what I was going to do about it.
Thirty minutes later the bleeding corpse of a freshly killed steer thudded to the ground just outside the cave. There was a long pause, then from the vantage point of a nearby tree branch I watched her as she cautiously emerged from her nest, her eyes flicking about suspiciously, but never straying long from what lay before her. Another moment, then she had gripped the steer in her jaws and with a series of frantic jerks was dragging it back into the cave. Both disappeared, and soon loud tearing and crunching noises were emanating from inside.
Okay; my good deed for the day. I spread my wings and flitted for home.
Next evening, I was perched again on that same branch, peering through the driving rain at the bones scattered just outside her door. All, from the largest to the smallest had been thoroughly gnawed, then cracked for the marrow. Damn, she must've been hungry! I sat there for a moment, considering, then shrugged my wings. Well, they're easy to catch. . . .
. . . .And about an hour later another steer thumped to the ground just outside her lair.
I kept this up for a week or so; dropping food to her once a night until the bones didn't look quite so carefully picked over, then I slowed to once every other night. After awhile I decided to sneak in for another peek.
She looked a lot better now as she coiled protectively about her eggs; her golden eyes were no longer quite as sunken, and had lost a feverish gleam I hadn't noticed until it was gone. She was still quite gaunt, but the skin no longer stretched over her ribs like a drumhead.
I allowed myself a small smile of satisfaction as I crept back out, then went to get her this evening's steer. This time, though, when it thunked to the ground just outside and she went to get it, she found me sitting on the far side of the clearing.
She eyed me for several long moments, then hissed at me warningly. No more than that; my scent had been all over those cattle. I watched silently as she dragged her meal within, then listened to her eating for a while before heading for home.
Why was I doing this? I wondered to myself. Just what the hell did I see in this creature that compelled such effort? Well, things had been awfully slow around the shop lately, and I suppose it was something to do. . . .
After several more visits she had relaxed to the point that I could land and drop my latest offering at her door. I still had to back off a little before she would come out, but at least she would eat out in the open now, where I could watch her.
I figured she was getting close to her proper weight by now, and her green plumage was picking up a rich, glossy sheen. Her ribs didn't show all that much anymore, and I found it strangely pleasurable to watch the muscles ripple under her hide as she worried at the carcass. She smelled rather nice, too. . . .
I blinked, then shook my head. The feathered serpent's golden eyes glinted as she looked up at my sudden movement, studied me for several long moments before going back to her meal. What in the devil was I just thinking about? Was I actually . . . ? Damn. I had to get out of here...
The crested head came up again as I spread my wings and sprang aloft, her reptilian features unreadable as she watched me disappear over the treetops.
"What'cha drawing?"
"Hmm?" I looked up to see Nancy, the NCO Club hostess looking over my shoulder at what I'd been doodling on the paper tablecloth with one of the supplied crayons. "Oh! Um, it's a snake."
She frowned, looking at the crude drawing. "A green snake? Oh. One of those little cane rakes."
"Uh, yeah."
She sniffed disapprovingly at my sketch. "Y'know, I came across one of those little brutes in our back yard, back during the last dry season, y'know? Had Animal Control come out and kill it."
A small shudder rippled through me, and I tuned her out as she chattered on, nodding at what seemed to be the right intervals until she finally left. The club's pianist plunked away in the background as I stared down at the sinuous shape drawn on the brown paper. Bemusedly I picked the crayon up again and added the four short legs, then a botched attempt at the wings.
Why was I doing this? And why in the hell can't I stop thinking about that blasted creature? I was really beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with me. . . .
The next evening found me winging my way once again to her nest, a freshly-killed steer in my jaws. Somehow, I hadn't quite gotten around to feeding myself in almost a week now, and the steer's blood leaking down my throat was making me drool uncontrollably. Annoyed, I doubled my neck back to wipe away some of the spittle, but only succeeded in smearing it around. Perhaps I'd better get myself something to eat after this trip.
The sky was clear tonight, but the ruckus being raised up ahead made sure that I heard the clearing long before I could see it. What in the world? I cleared the treetops and found a massive, green-feathered shape coiled in front of the burrow. One look at the huge wings and serpent-like body told me that the female's mate had finally returned.
I banked and began to circle, gaining altitude. Well, now somebody else could do the hunting. Guess she won't be needing me anymore . . . and why did that bother me so much? And why in the hell are they making so much noise?
I craned my neck, studying the scene below. The male was making loud snarling noises and short lunges at the entrance. The female was backed into the cave with only her head showing and shrieking at him defiantly. Her plumage was fluffed aggressively, but even from here I could tell she was trembling violently.
Suddenly it hit me, why the female wasn't willing to leave her eggs long enough to hunt, why she had attacked me, a male, with such ferocity.
My God, he's after the eggs.
Almost before I knew it, I'd jettisoned my cargo and my wings were snapping up and over. I dropped toward the clearing like a ton of bricks, and I could feel my talons fisting themselves as I leveled out just clear of the ground, coming in fast and hard. I think he heard me coming, because he started to turn. . . .
. . . .Just in time to catch my blow full in the side of the head. The impact sent him cartwheeling across the clearing, away from the nest. I felt my wings strain as I wrenched myself upwards, whipping through a perfect Immelmann to catch the bastard in the head again just as he began to rise. This time my talons were open, and blood sprayed as he sprawled on his back across the dirt, most of the slashes across his face going clear to the bone.
An inside loop, and I slammed down on top of him with all the mass I could muster. His breath whooshed out of him, and I felt several ribs go beneath me. Before he could recover, my hind legs were standing on his splayed wings and my talons were buried in his neck muscles to just short of the great arteries.
His eyes went wide with fear when he realized what was at his throat, and I felt his claws raking ineffectually at my armored underbelly. I gave him a second to let it all sink in. Then, clenching my talons in his neck muscles until he gasped at the pain, I pulled his head up to my snout as I slowly gaped my jaws and let him enjoy the view. Suddenly I ROARED directly into his face, the sheer volume of it shocking leaves off of nearby trees as I began shaking him like a rat.
You wanna fight somebody, pal? Hah? Well I'll fight you, you little piece of crap! You FILTH! I'll rip your god-damned HEAD off!
My draconic jaws mangled the words into one long, horrible, spitting snarl, but I figured he'd gotten the message when my nose told me he'd soiled himself.
Still snarling with rage, I felt myself swelling rapidly larger until, nearly double normal size, I picked him up and flung him bodily away from me like a piece of garbage. He smashed backwards into the jungle, taking down several trees in the process. There were several moments of stunned silence, then a scrabbling noise as he finally got his feet beneath him. The last I saw of that bedraggled wyrm, he was wobbling aloft and flying away to the northwest just as fast as he could go, his feathers stained crimson with his own blood.
Goddamn scum bucket, going after a mother and her kids... What the hell was WRONG with that guy? I'd run across this type of cockroach before in the humans' world, had even had the pleasure of targeting one or two in the course of my duties... But a DRAGON? I thought we were better than that. . . .
I sagged, feeling myself dwindling down to more normal proportions as the rage slowly faded, leaving behind a sour stomach and a deep feeling of sadness. Damn it, I really thought we were better than that.
I sighed, then began to turn away from the trees, to be stopped by a sudden, slicing pain. Aggh! What the hell? I doubled my neck back and felt at the soft skin just beneath my jaws, my talons coming away red. Huh. Well I'll be dipped. Looks like the green-feathered bastard had managed to get a lick in after all.
A touch at my side had me nearly jumping out of my scales, but it was just the female, for some reason closer than she'd ever come before and sniffing at the cut on my neck. The slash wasn't really all that bad; just painful, but after a moment she began to lick it clean anyway.
I closed my eyes and sighed gratefully as she worked over the damage with her long tongue, my thoughts wandering. Perhaps that crazy coatl wasn't her mate after all? Maybe he'd driven off or even killed her mate, and was now trying to kill his offspring? Damn, how I wish I could talk to her! It was one of the few flaws of my form; this inability to speak, but I had the feeling it was going to cost me dearly someday. . . .
. . . .Oh, this feels good. . . .With a start I realized that the female's tongue was steadily drifting off target, and beginning to work its way across my throat. The pleasure increased, and I was again surprised when a subsonic rumbling began deep in my chest. What the--? I was purring, for God's sake! And what's more, I couldn't stop!
This was ridiculous. Damn it, I'm a dragon, not a house cat! But the purring blithely ignored me; then got even louder when the female began to nip me gently, slowly working her way down my throat.
Oh! Oh, my. . . .I was getting excited as hell by all this, and found my head bending to lick, then nip at her throat as well. W-what? No! Wait! I jerked my head up in shock as I realized what I was doing. She hesitated, looked up into my face, crooning questioningly, then began to slowly rub her long length against me.
I gasped at the storm of feelings that swept over me as a result. I tried to back away, but found myself neatly pinned against the forest trees as I felt her tail twine about mine, squeezing gently. W-wait! This isn't . . . I mean I can't. . . .
My pulse was thundering in my head as she began to nip her way down my throat again, a small shudder like an electric shock going through me with each bite.
No! You shouldn't. . . .
I can't do. . . .
I mean. . . .
Uh, I. . . .
Uh. . . .
Oh, hell. . . .
It was the morning sun, peeking its way through the forest canopy and shining into my eyes that finally awakened me. I flinched away from it with a groan and tried to tuck my head under my left wing, but found myself blocked by a green-feathered coil.
With a rush the previous night came back to me, and I gave out a more heartfelt sound. I lifted my head and looked down at the sleeping coatl wrapped around me, almost like a child hugging her favorite teddy bear. . . .
. . . .Or like someone who's managed to latch onto exactly what she wanted.
I stared at her, my mind no longer clouded with adrenalin or emotion, a cold certainty settling into my guts. You don't spend as many years roving the world's trouble spots as I have without developing a healthy case of cynicism about people's motives, especially Third World women.
Hubby Hunters, we call them in the military. Gate Dates. They'll take you for the ride of your life, do absolutely anything for you, swear eternal undying love and devotion. Then you marry them, they get that Green Card that gets them into the States, and you find out just how much of a sap you really are.
I looked down at her, at what I would have sworn was a smug expression on her face, a cold anger growing inside me. She wasn't interested in me; she just wanted a replacement for that bughouse-crazy mate of hers. A new meal ticket for her and her family. She couldn't have cared less about me.
She awoke a few minutes later, looked up into my face and crooned a sleepy greeting, then began to slowly lick my throat again. I endured it for a moment or two, then pushed her away and began to disentangle myself.
She resisted gently, her puzzled croon slowly scaling its way up into a whine as I pried myself loose from her grasping coils and stumbled my way out toward the middle of the clearing. She stared after me in confusion, then rolled to her feet, her wings unfurling as if she were about to follow. But then she looked back behind her at the cave containing her nest and her young, then back at me, obviously torn.
With a low moan she let her wings drop as I turned away and launched myself into the air . . . but not before I'd seen a line of wetness begin to work its way down the side of her face. Over the treetops I flew; feeling her eyes on me long after I should have been out of sight.
"You drawin' little green snakes again?"
I concealed my sudden flash of irritation and looked up. "Hello, Nancy. Yes, I'm drawing little green snakes again."
Nancy hmmmm'd, looking at my sketch, but decided not to comment this time, thankfully. "I haven't seen you in a couple of days. Want your usual?"
"I've been a little busy lately, I'm afraid. My half-bottle of Cabernet? Yes, that's just fine."
"Okay."
Nancy left to get my wine, and I went back to my contemplation of the crude drawing. I sighed defeatedly and tossed down the crayon, began to listen idly to that Panamanian pianist hacking at the keyboard again, the music's lyrics running through my head.
-Can you tell me what love is?
-I want you to show me. . . .
I shook my head with a silent curse and glared suspiciously at the pianist, fighting a momentary urge to gut him. He continued to plink away merrily, blissfully unaware of my smoldering look.
...But what was love, anyway? A long time ago, I came to the conclusion that I was incapable of feeling that particular emotion toward anyone. It was one of the things that made me so very good at my profession: I'd spent my entire life standing outside the human race, looking in, and not liking what I saw. Hell, I felt more for the loss of a good dog than I did for a human being . . . .And true friends were a very rare thing indeed. . . .
Nancy came back with my wine, interrupting my rambling thoughts. As she turned away, I deliberately raked my eyes down her well-curved form just as hard as I could . . . and felt nothing. I've never been able to work up the slightest bit of interest in human women . . . or in men, either, for that matter. It's like they're a totally different species . . . and maybe they are.
I smiled grimly at myself. Last night, I'd experienced more emotion, more passion, than I'd experienced in all the rest of my life combined, and it had been with a winged reptile straight out of a fairy tale.
So what does that tell you, Mike?
Ever since a certain lightning strike punched its way through my window frame and forever changed my life, I'd been wrestling with a single, burning question: Was I a human who became a dragon? Or a dragon who became a human?
I think I had my answer, now.
A strange new emotion, both sweet and bitter, seeped into me as I picked up my glass and let the candlelight shine through its dark red depths. Then I lifted it in silent salute to the human race, and drained the glass dry.
Salute . . . and farewell.
SPLAT!
The two inches of standing water in the ragged little clearing surged back from the dead steer, turning red from the blood seeping from it. The rain I'd triggered with my preoccupied handling of the weather that morning was coming down in buckets and splattering across the carcass, churning the water into a thin pink foam.
There was a long pause, then a reptilian head covered with opalescent green feathers slowly emerged from within the cave-like opening. She glanced at the dead steer, then looked up at me where I quietly sat just to the other side of it.
Another long moment passed as we stared at each other. Yeah, maybe she was a hubby-hunter, and maybe she wasn't. And just who the hell was I to assign human-style motivations to something like her? Neither of us was human, and I, for one, was damn lonely...
She emerged from her den, oblivious to the downpour, stepping over the steer without a second glance. Her golden eyes were locked on mine, and strangely luminous in the dim illumination and occasional lightning.
A moment later she was licking, then nipping at my throat. I closed my eyes, purring, just feeling for a second or so, then slowly bent my head to work her throat with little love bites of my own.
The steer lay in the darkness, forgotten, the rain sluicing off its sides, while out beyond it in the clearing my little green snake and I lay in the rain and the wet and the mud and made insatiable love all the rest of the night.
"Top? You busy?"
First Sergeant McClinton held up a hand, while the other continued to scribble madly upon one of what looked like thousands of pieces of paperwork that completely buried her desk. "Just a minute. . . ." She scribbled her signature at the bottom and flung the document into the out-box. "There! What can I do for you, Sergeant?"
I found myself wincing a bit as I tossed yet another packet of paperwork onto her desk. "Sorry to bother you, but could you give me a quick proofread of this before I put it in?"
"Sure." Top grabbed it up and began to scan the top sheet, then paused. "What the hell is it?"
"It's my retirement packet, Top."
McClinton's head came up with a jerk. "What? Sergeant Glenn, you don't have a full twenty in yet, do you?"
I shook my head. "No, First Sergeant, I don't. But the Pentagon's finally authorized the Early Retirement clause, and I'm applying for it."
McClinton studied the paperwork closely for several long minutes. "I hope you know what you're doing. You know that once this is submitted, there's no stopping it? You have everything arranged? Where you're going to live? Employment?"
I smiled slightly. "Yes, Top, I think I have everything worked out, for the first time in my life..."
The First Sergeant gave me a suspicious look. "Can't change your mind?"
I shook my head. "Sorry, Top. The Reds have thrown in the towel, we have a Liberal in the CINC slot screwing things up, funding has gone to hell, promotions are zip, morale's in the gutter..." I sighed. "It's time to move on."
"We need you, Sarge."
I laughed harshly. "Sorry, Top, but they have one hell of a way of showing it."
"Yeah. . . ." She sighed bitterly, then picked up the packet. "Well, I can't find anything wrong with this. You need to sign here."
I did so. "Thanks, Top. You'll put it in?"
"Yeah. Good luck, Mike."
I smiled. "Thanks, but maybe I won't need it, this time. . . ."
I turned and left, heading back to my hangar office. Along the way, I found myself quietly whistling "Burning Bridges."
Another week, and my feathered serpent finally let me take a look at her eggs. She watched me like a hawk as I gingerly extended my snout and sniffed at them. They smelled . . . alive. Ignoring their mother's warning growl I carefully placed my hand upon one of them, and was surprised at how warm they were. Something shifted beneath my hand and I jerked it back, staring at the egg. Yes, they were very close.
She quickly hustled me out of there with a series of sharp jabs and nips, and I retreated to the far side of the clearing and watched her coil protectively in front of the nest. She was in excellent form now; in fact, she seemed to be getting a little fat. Perhaps I should cut back on the provisions?
Whatever. She finally calmed down, and after a while decided to get playful again, which was more than all right with me. . . .
"Staff Sergeant Glenn?"
"Yes?"
"Um, this is Specialist Martell at MILPERCEN. I'm to inform you that your retirement's been approved. Your effective date, however, has been moved up from 1-July to 1-April in order to meet our quota for the second quarter. Will this pose any problems?"
"Hmm. . . .No, not at all."
"Ah. Good. Then I'll get started on cutting your retirement orders. Have a nice day, sergeant."
She was waiting for me out in the clearing this evening, and evidently very excited about something; rushing up to me as I landed. Quickly she took the evening's dinner from my jaws and set it aside, then began to chivvy me toward her den. I blinked in confusion: What was this? It took me half the night to ease my way close to her nest the last time, and now she couldn't wait to get me in there.
Okay, okay, I'm in already. Now what the devil . . . I glanced into the nest, then did a double-take and stared. There, laying with the others, was a fourth egg. It was half-again as large as the others, and a blue-gray in color.
My legs went weak, and I sat on the chamber floor with a thump. A fourth egg. Fourth egg. My egg? You mean we . . . ? I stared at the glossy, still-damp shell, my lower jaw sagging in shock while my mate gently rubbed her head against me.
An egg. My egg. My child. Our child. Something almost painful slowly welled up inside of me until it threatened to choke me, my eyes growing dangerously wet. Suddenly I whipped about and my mate squawked in surprise as I caught her up in my forelimbs and hugged her, rocking her gently as tears of joy ran down my face. . . .
"Is everybody here? Good. Secure the door, please. . . .Gentlemen, please be advised that this briefing is classified TOP SECRET/SCI. No part of what is to be given out here will be discussed outside these walls.
"Gentlemen, I am authorized to inform you that today is H+<WITHHELD> of Operation RESTORE DEMOCRACY."
Oh, shit; here we go again. . . .
"Our tasking is to provide both strategic and tactical intel to the Marine Expeditionary Force both immediately prior to and during the operation. The operation will unfold as follows. . . ."
Damn it, couldn't they have waited until I retired for this? Well, this shouldn't take long. . . .
"Our mission and support operations need to be in place on this island... here, no later than H+<WITHHELD> . We will be using platform number three. Sergeant Glenn, what is number three's status?"
"Sir. Number three is currently FMC, with 125 operational hours remaining until the next required maintenance cycle. Will this be sufficient?"
"Mmm, yes, more than sufficient. I'll need you to coordinate with Contract Maintenance Support and Military Airlift Command to set up our forward logistics base. Any questions?"
"Yes sir: What is our airlift priority with MAC?"
"A-1-A, Sergeant Glenn; top priority."
Yeah, right. "Very good, sir, I'll get right on it."
The days that followed could best be described as Hell on Earth. First, they couldn't make their minds as to where they wanted us. Then Air Force MAC turned their dainty little noses up at these smelly Army pukes that wanted to use their precious aircraft. Then there was trouble getting access to the forward staging area . . . I tore up my sixth load plan. . . .
My mate could sense that something was wrong, and did her best to soothe me. But I was showing up every night teetering on the edge of exhaustion, too tired to show any interest in her. Some nights I couldn't show up at all.
I could see her growing worried; perhaps thinking I was about to abandon her like her former mate. I nuzzled her, trying to soothe her in turn, but how could I explain human war to someone like her?
Finally, we began to pull the thing together: A site was finally decided upon. A call from the CG of the XVIII Airborne Corps, and suddenly MAC couldn't do enough for us. The bureaucrats and the bean counters were all flogged into submission, and things started to work.
The last three days were round-the-clock: We telephoned, trucked, packed, inventoried, fetched, stacked, yelled, loaded until we were staggering around in circles. Finally, though, the last C-141 left the strip to the weak cheers of my exhausted crew.
I watched the plane disappear into the early morning sky with a sense of relief, then shook my head. This was the last time: No more wars, no more druggies, no more spook shit, no more God-Damned military bureaucrats. This was it. I'd done my time, and now the rest of my life was mine.
And hers. . . .
I gave my crew the next two days off and sent them home, then closed shop. The walk back to the barracks passed in a blur, but I certainly remember my bed. Not even bothering taking off my boots I flopped down on it, took three deep breaths, and was gone.
Eighteen hours later it was dark again, and I was winging my way to my mate with the biggest cow I could find held tightly in my jaws. For three days I hadn't been able to see her, and I hoped she wouldn't be angry. It was the last time, though; another few months, and I would be free.
The waxing moon lit my way, and soon I reached her ragged little clearing and began to spiral in. I spotted my mate lying before the mouth of her den. Asleep so early? I was hurt: I'd thought she'd be watching for me. . . .
I quietly alighted, then padded toward her with my peace offering. Suddenly I slowed: Something was wrong. I set down our meal and moved forward, and as soon as my head cleared the dead steer it hit me like a wall: Blood. The whole clearing stank of it.
I heard myself whining in fear as I rushed to my mate, began nuzzling her frantically, but got no response. I shook her, but she flopped about limply like a marionette with her strings cut, her dull eyes staring sightlessly at the jungle.
Her throat had been torn out.
No. I looked down at my hands, found them covered with her blood--
No! I tried to get it off I wiped at it and wiped at it but I couldn't get it off--
I threw my head back and screamed blue flame at the skies, howling my grief until I felt as if I were tearing myself apart and I could scream no longer. I bowed my head, shuddering, staring blindly at my mate's body, until a single thought worked its way to the surface of my shattered mind:
THE CHILDREN!
I felt my eyes go wide, my breath coming in a tearing gasp as I launched myself over her corpse and dove into our cave. I'm sorry baby I'm sorry but I have to find our children I have to see I have to see I . . . have to . . . . . . see. . . .
I twisted away from the nest and fell to the floor, my talons gouging deep into the stone as I retched violently again and again, my guts still trying to turn themselves inside out long after there was nothing left.
. . . .S'funny: I've been places, seen things that would sicken Satan himself, but have never been affected by it. Until now. Now that it was personal. . . .
I lifted my streaming eyes back to the nest once again and stared at what was inside until I could no longer bear it, then slowly stumbled outside. The grief began turning into a peculiar numbness as I stared at my mate's still form. Slowly, robotically, I straightened out her limbs, then carefully picked her up and carried her inside.
With agonizing care I placed her back into her nest, coiling her protectively about her children, gently grooming all of her feathers back into place, then finally closing her golden eyes.
I'm sorry, baby, so very sorry I wasn't here. . . .So sorry. . . .You rest now, baby; Michael's going to make just one more trip, and when he returns he's going to bring you one last present. . . .
. . . .One last present. . . .
The numbness was fading; being replaced by an all-too familiar chill as I emerged from the cave. I began scanning the ground, and quickly found what I was looking for: A paw print. Not mine, and too large for my mate.
You.
I crouched in the mud and began going over it one square centimeter at a time with eyes, nose and tongue, slowly wringing the story from the churned earth and intertwined scents.
My mate had left the nest for a moment. . . .Lured? Trying to hunt? Unknown. . . .He was there; possibly had been watching us, waiting for such an opportunity. Somehow he got in behind her, got into the den, where he murdered the children. But she caught him before he could escape and went after him with fang and claw. Trapped, unable to get away, he'd killed her, but not before my mate had inflicted severe damage.
The prints were fresh, and rigor mortis hadn't set into my mate's body yet. That meant . . . I closed my eyes and fought for control. . . .That meant that none of this could have happened more than a few hours ago. If I hadn't taken that nap, if I had come straight here. . . .
Enough. There's no time. I followed a bloody set of tracks as they staggered out into the clearing, then examined the last set, deeply imprinted into the ground by a leap into the air.
I felt my fangs baring themselves in a humorless grin. Heading northwest.
Gotcha.
I spun back to where I'd left the dead cow and began to tear it apart, gobbling it down as quickly as I could. My guts twisted queasily, but I held it down: I needed the fuel for what was to come.
I stripped the cow to the bare bones, then hurled the remainder into the underbrush. Then I turned and gave the entrance to my mate's den one final glance.
. . . .one last present, baby. . . .
I exploded off of the ground, clawing for altitude until I was well clear of the terrain, then turned northwest. A few miles out, I began a hasty search pattern, zigzagging across my target's line of departure, my eyes scanning both the ground and the skies.
It had been a sunny day, and the air was supercharged with energy. I exploited it ruthlessly, generating thermal after thermal, thrusting myself along until the wind roared over my wings. Behind me, chaos reigned as those discarded columns of warm, wet air jostled one another, destabilized still more warm air in a runaway chain reaction that soon had enormous thunderheads boiling in my wake.
They spread to the sides as I zigged and zagged, forming themselves into a gigantic squall line that stalked behind me on jagged legs of lightning. I drew upon that lightning, absorbing it, using it to rejuvenate my tiring muscles.
Left. Right. Left. Right. Where are you, you bastard? My mate did you too much damage for you to have gotten far. . . .
There. A crag of stone poking above a ridge line, atop which perched my adversary, wings sagging, nursing his wounds.
I have you.
I felt my mane prickle, seething with Saint Elmo's Fire as I seized control of the lightning at my back and pulled it toward me. A moment later it struck, and my frame was wrapped with blue-white energy that I refused to absorb. It crackled and flared across my steel scales, searching wildly for release. I gave it that release, and milliseconds later an incandescent bolt of power was pouring off of my talons and spearing downwards.
My target squawked in surprise and pain as the crag beneath him disintegrated with a blinding flash, the explosion hurling him skyward. I watched him as he struggled to right himself, my heart filling with contempt. Fool! Why didn't you hide? Did you actually think that I wouldn't come for you?
I waited until he'd gotten himself under control, then watched his head snap skyward and his eyes widen as I bellowed my flaming challenge across the sky. My mane crackled as I stabbed my right hand at him, and sun-hot hellfire flowed about me to flash across the distance between us and wrap his left wing in a web of destruction. He screamed as feathers vaporized in puffs of flame, the lightning drawing a crazy-quilt pattern of carbonized ruin across his limb.
He staggered in the air, trying frantically to get away as I wielded the lightning as a man would a whip. The power arced from my talons again and again, striking him and all about him, flaying his back to smoldering ribbons.
My adversary began to outdistance me, but I would have none of it. I reached out: Slowly at first, then faster and faster, the sky ahead of us began to boil while the ends of the squall line began to sweep forwards like gargantuan wings, curving the front, swinging around to gather him in.
I heard his scream of despair as the way before him grew black with storm, and at last he swung to face me. Good: This began with fang and claw and thus it would also end.
If he were just another job, just another target, I would have simply stood off and pounded him to pieces with the lighting at my command. But this wasn't just another job: This time it was something personal, and I longed to feel my fangs sinking into his throat.
I screamed my rage at him, my flame gouting in a lurid sheet of blue as I folded my wings and dove.
We closed rapidly, each going for a raking pass. My talons sliced at his underbelly while his own claws glanced off my armor, but the follow-up blow with his tail stunned me momentarily. He twisted back in to take advantage, but squalled in pain as he received a face full of flame for his efforts. He twisted away, but not before I managed to get in a blow with my tail to his own midriff. But hitting him was like slapping at a piece of string and he danced away, undamaged.
Again we circled each other, the storm lashing at us as we searched for another opening. Again we came spearing in. He twisted to avoid my fiery breath and I hooked him with the talons of my right hand as he passed, but he merely used it for leverage.
Amazed, I felt loop after loop of his rangy body wrapping itself about my own. I struggled frantically, then flexed my dorsal spines. I felt his body shudder, and blood not my own cascaded down my scales. Then his grip redoubled itself and he began to SQUEEZE.
Like the constrictor he so resembled, he was slowly crushing the life out of me. I writhed in his grip, desperately trying to get hold of him as my breath whooshed out of me and my ribs began to ache. His head came back into view, jaws agape, and I was horrified to see long, thin fangs unfold. He struck, but the needle-like points skittered off my steel armor, leaving long thin trails of venom in their wake.
My pulse was pounding like a drum in my head, and my vision became rimmed with black. I felt him strike again and again, trying to find the fatal chink in my armor as my wings faltered and my struggles weakened. . . .
You-- idiot!
I concentrated, and that old feeling of compression swept over me. Suddenly his coils had nothing to grip as I abruptly dropped to half- size and slipped free. He shrieked his baffled rage and confusion, losing track of me as he fought for balance.
Still gasping for breath, I swung up behind him, then abruptly swelled to almost double normal size. Before he could react I'd wrapped my hands about his throat. Quickly I tightened my grip while my hind talons sank into his wings and back. Then my hands started to twist as I began to slowly wring his neck.
It was like trying to strangle a fire hose. Damn he was strong! He thrashed and clawed wildly, his hindquarters flailing about, his wings slamming against my sides with punishing force. I hung on grimly, my hands twisting, talons digging into flesh. Slowly, relentlessly I brought his head around to stare with his sad, mad eyes at my flame-wreathed fangs once again. I felt the burning in the back of my throat surge as I gaped my jaws to breathe my hatred directly into his face. . . .
MY WINGS! HE'S FOULED MY WINGS!
God, no! His tail had whipped over my back and snared my right wing, and was now pulling it up and over, threatening to wrench it out of its socket. Control was destroyed, and the storm-wracked sky immediately began to tumble and spin sickeningly about us as the wind began a new, deadlier roar.
Let go! I twisted frantically, desperately trying to relieve the pull on my wing, trying to regain control as the ground rapidly swelled beneath us. I renewed my hold, but it wasn't going to work. He was too strong!
Let go! I attempted my size-changing trick again, but he was ready for it this time, using the shift to tighten his grip on my wing, wrenching it further. I hissed my agony as I felt tendons strain to the snapping point, and one of his hind legs started clawing at one of my inner webs, shredding the delicate skin. I shuddered, my hold loosening slightly, and he twisted in my grip and struck at my face, one venom-laden fang missing my eye by a talon's width.
LET GO! I was beginning to panic. The ground was expanding to fill all my vision, and still I couldn't get loose from this mad wyrm. Blood, this time my own, ran down my scales as he continued to rake at my wing. Again and again he struck at my face and throat as I let my hands slide into a slightly different but far deadlier grip, then TWIST. . . .
CRACK!
The green-feathered coils shuddered violently, then relaxed. I wrenched my right wing back into position as they slid away, and I fought to right myself. Then I could see nothing but the ground reaching hungrily for me as I pulled up pulled up pulled up PULLED UP. . . .
The oblivion rushing to meet me hesitated, began to slide sideways slowly, then faster and faster. It blurred, then began to fall away, grudgingly giving way to an insane sky laced with lightning. My speed began to lessen, as did the agony in my red-trailing wing. A convection cell slid beneath me, cradled and lifted me, its moisture washing the blood from my armor as I soared; alone once again.
The storm-lashed jungle surrounding the ragged little clearing heaved wildly in the dreary light of dawn as I slowly limped my way the last few meters to my mate's dark den, cradling with my forelegs the burden I carried. She was there, waiting for me.
I looked at her for a very long time as she lay there within her nest, then I gently nuzzled her feathers, feeling their texture, inhaling their scent once more. I lifted my head and gazed at what she had guarded so faithfully, at the three crushed and mangled newborns, and the shattered remains of a certain blue-gray egg.
I flinched away, then turned to look at my mate again, carefully setting my burden before her as one would an offering before an altar.
The head of her tormentor and murderer.
. . . .One last present, baby. . . .
Slowly I backed my way out, not stopping until I was well clear of the dark opening. I stared at it for I don't know how long, thinking of things that might have been. Then I arched my neck, gaped my jaws and flamed.
The huge old stone blocks above the opening slowly began to sizzle and crack from the heat. I kept on, a pounding beginning in my head and a dull ache in my chest as the stone glowed, slumped, then collapsed with a roar, bringing down most of the hillside with it, sealing the chamber.
I gazed at the wreckage at my feet for a moment, then closed my eyes and lifted my head skyward and let the rain and my tears run down my scales for a few minutes. Then I sighed and let my neck droop.
I guess some people just aren't allowed dreams.
A final glance at the ruins of my own little dream, then I slowly spread my battered wings and painfully labored my way into the sky; a sky beginning to fill with the gray light of a day that I wish I had not lived to see.
Tomas, the guy that ran the night shift at the package store, looked up from his newspaper and blinked as I set three bottles of Jack Daniels down on the counter. He glanced at me worriedly, then slowly began to ring them up. "Anything else?"
"No." I handed him my cash, then headed for the door with my purchase.
"Hey."
I turned, to find him looking at me with concern.
"You okay?"
I looked at him for a long moment, then shook my head as I turned away. "No."
I walked out of the store, the bottles quietly clinking in the bag under my arm.
I looked up through a gap in the churning night sky, at what would very shortly
be another full moon. A vision of golden eyes set in opalescent green slid into
my thoughts, and I stood there, clenching my fists until both the vision and the
stinging in my eyes faded. I sighed, then hugged the bottles more closely to me
as I began the long walk home.
Regards from the Steel Dragon;
---------> Hasai