Indiana Jones and the Dinosaur Eggs

by Max McCoy

  "What about Joan?" Indy asked.

  She had left the conversation to wander among the People. A slim young man with a shock of black hair was following behind her, a bouquet of Cretaceous buds in his hand.

  "She will have to make up her own mind," Starbuck said. "One photo, one wire dispatch, will prove the happy valley's undoing. But I am not her master. Only her father."

  "There's something I'm curious about," Indy said. "That girl that greeted us seemed to be extremely friendly. Pardon my asking, but how intimate are you with these people?"

  "They call me grandfather." Starbuck laughed. "And I feel grandfatherly toward them, as well. Besides, I am too old to adopt their ways. And no one could take the place of Joan's mother, who died in childbirth."

  "Pull up a seat, old man," Granger said.

  It was after the feast of the dinosaur-egg omelette that evening, and Granger was sitting contentedly on a rock, smoking his pipe. Indy sat next to him and plucked up a blade of grass and began to chew on it.

  "That egg was delicious," Granger began.

  "Didn't eat any of it," Indy said. "Reminded me of when I was a kid and I'd get an egg at breakfast that had an embryo in it. I'd be sick for days just thinking about it. I just wish there was some way we could have preserved it—what I wouldn't give for a little bit of formaldehyde—but it was useless."

  "Why, we could make a fortune if we could just get our hands on some more of those eggs. We could serve 'em up at one-thousand-dollar-a-plate dinner parties. Granger's famous chicken-fried dinosaur. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

  "Will you be serious for a moment?"

  "I was only partially joking," Granger said. "You know, that egg does belong on the outside. It is much too valuable to leave in this lost valley, where it runs the risk of being eaten by the inhabitants.... What is it, Jones? You look like you've gotten your marching orders."

  "In a way," Indy said. "I went back into the cavern a few minutes ago, and I could hear Tzi's dogs sniffing out our trail on the other side of the rope gorge. Starbuck is wrong about how much time these people have. It isn't a matter of decades or years... it's a matter of hours. And when Tzi finds this valley, he will destroy everything in it."

  "So what do we do?" Granger asked.

  "I'm leaving," Indy said. "Going to try to put Tzi off the trail, to lead him far away from here and into the steppes. To do anything to get him away from this valley."

  "You always were the idealist," Granger said. "Actually, I had hoped to stay here for a little while. We've been here only a few hours. It's a pleasant valley and I haven't even had time to meet these people, to learn their names and so forth. Some of them seem quite clever, actually. Not to mention beautiful."

  "We can't know these people," Indy said. "They are wonderful children and we are big awkward adults. Besides, what good are we doing ourselves if we stay here? How are we supposed to fight when Tzi finally comes down out of that cavern with his dogs and his soldiers?"

  "We fight like we always have," Granger said. "We've managed to save our skins through a little tenacity and a lot of luck enough times to know that you never know how these things will turn out. One should never give up. It's better to die on your feet than on your knees."

  "Okay," Indy said. "Say a miracle happens and we win. We train these people to use spears and clubs and we drive Tzi out of this valley by force. We'll still have lost, because we'll have taught these people how to kill."

  "They'll learn that soon enough anyway."

  "I want to stay," Indy said. "I've wanted to stay from the minute I set foot here and that girl with the wonderful eyes gave me the flowers. When I asked Starbuck if he was intimate with these people, it wasn't just out of curiosity. I wanted to plan a life here. No more fighting, no more curses, and especially no more jackbooted fascists. But I can't. For me, it's wrong."

  "Jones, you're giving me a headache."

  "I'll make it simple for you." Indy stood up and shouldered the Thompson and its five-round clip. "I'm going to do what I can. You can come with me or not."

  "All right," Granger said. "But there's just two things. Our discussion on the last triceratops egg is far from over. I still think it belongs in a museum, or if it hatches, in some kind of zoo."

  "Okay," Indy said. "We'll talk that over when the time comes. What's the second thing?"

  "I get the gun," Granger said.

  9

  Thunder Child

  Indy looked over the lip of the ravine and across the steppe with red-rimmed eyes. His gaze took in every feature, each rock and scrubby tree, anxious for any sign of Tzi.

  For the last week he and Granger had played a desperate game of hide-and-seek with Tzi and his soldiers, leading them away from the valley and ever farther into the steppes. In Granger's capable hands, the five rounds in the Thompson had accounted for five soldiers, soldiers who had wandered too far from the rest of Tzi's army and had paid for the mistake with their lives. From those careless soldiers came a little food, some water, a Mauser rifle, and the Webley revolver that had been taken from Indy in what now seemed like a geologic epoch gone by.

  Indy had only a few rounds left for the Webley—a handful in a jacket pocket and the six in the cylinder. Mongol horsemen were among the best riders on earth, and they would prove difficult targets with a handgun.

  Granger was in even worse shape. The box magazine on the Mauser held ten shells and his ammunition belt was empty.

  "We're out of water," Granger announced. "We ate the last of that pitiful rodent meat yesterday." He removed his safari hat and sleeved sweat from his brow.

  Indy watched shadows lengthening below a rocky escarpment as the sun lowered. "I suppose it would be pointless to ask if you have any good news."

  "What?" Granger asked.

  "Good news," Indy repeated. "Do you have any?"

  "These little horses are spent," Granger told him, replacing his hat. "We've ridden them too hard. I tried to warn you, Jones. As always, you wouldn't listen to me."

  There was a furtive movement that may have been an antelope—or one of Tzi's soldiers. Indy studied the spot carefully when he saw the movement again, and now he was certain it was someone creeping slowly toward them.

  "They're out there," he added, "crawling this way. Still out of pistol range."

  Granger examined the spot where Indy was looking. "I see it now. If he's one of Tzi's scouts, they'll send their wild dogs in for us first." He raised his Mauser, working sweaty fingers on the pistol grips.

  "This is a bad place to make a last stand," Indy said.

  "You're developing a rather annoying habit of stating the obvious with unnecessary clarity, Jones. I don't need the help of a college professor to calculate that twenty cartridges won't be enough to kill about a hundred wild dogs and fifty Mongol cannibals."

  Indy's sorrel pony pricked up its ears and turned its head toward the outcrop, sensing something.

  "They're coming for us now." Indy reached for the Webley tucked into his belt, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

  "Do you think he'll send the dogs in first?" he asked. "I hope they don't send the dogs. I'd like a shot at Tzi."

  "Count on the dogs," Granger said.

  "You're a comfort," Indy said.

  The sorrel snorted once more, bowing its neck and fighting the lead that was tied to the trunk of a scrubby little tree. The eyes of both horses were wild. They had smelled the dog pack approaching.

  "What about the horses?" Indy asked.

  "What about them?" Granger returned. "The dogs will get them, too. They'll rip open their bellies first and spill their intestines on the ground. Then they'll take their time finishing them off."

  "Let 'em go," Indy said.

  Granger agreed. "Of course. I don't suppose we have any more need of them. And it could buy us some time if they pursue the ponies and leave us alone."

  Granger put down the Mauser and went over to where the horses were tied. He untied t
he sorrel, looped the reins around the pommel so they wouldn't become tangled beneath its hooves, then released the animal. It reared and then took off across the steppe, its hooves flashing.

  Then he did the same with the other horse.

  Indy looked around. The plain was clear for several hundred yards on either side of the gully. He put his attention back on the escarpment where he'd seen the shadow move.

  "Do you think it's better here?" Indy asked. "Or down there?"

  "I'd rather stay here." Granger returned and took up the Mauser. Then he picked up a handful of sand and sifted it through his fingers. "Is it worth dying for, to say with our last breath that we helped hatch the world's only living triceratops?"

  "There are worse things to die for," Indy replied. "Besides, it's more than that. It's Joan and Starbuck we're talking about, too, and the Dune Dwellers—or whatever they call themselves. Do you think Tzi would spare any of them?"

  "If we could just have gotten that egg back to New York, we'd be credited with the greatest scientific find of all time," Granger said. "Imagine what a sensation if it actually hatched. Instead, I'm going to wind up in a Mongol stew."

  "Relax," Indy told him. "It's only your heart they eat, and yours is so black it will probably give Tzi a bad case of indigestion. Wait, I see something...."

  An animal skulked along the base of the same rock formation. "A dog," he said quietly, with growing concern. "Isn't it ironic that the animal I like best in the world is going to be the cause of my death?"

  "I always figured an animal would get me in the end." Granger rubbed his damaged ear as he spoke. "A leopard, an elephant. Perhaps a lion. Wouldn't that be a grand way to go? But a dog? You've never seen a dog mounted on the wall of anybody's book-lined study. And a dog doesn't even make a decent hatband."

  Another wild dog crept over the rocks behind the first.

  "It would be extremely fortuitous if that brigand Khan would show up about now." Granger paused listening. "Here they come."

  "Good," Indy said. "I'm tired of waiting."

  Spread out across the horizon, mounted Mongol warriors galloped toward them, surrounded by packs of running dogs. Indy didn't bother counting dogs or horsemen, not with only a dozen bullets to his name.

  "Jones," Granger said.

  "Yeah?"

  "Nobody ever expects to find themselves in a situation like this, but I'm glad that... What I mean is that there's nobody I'd rather... Dammit, Jones, you know what I'm trying to say."

  "The feeling's mutual," Indy said.

  Mounted on a bow-backed chestnut stallion, General Tzi and his lieutenant, Chang, rode along the bottom of the draw flanked by dozens of Mongol tribesmen carrying an assortment of weapons. Most were single-shot muskets, but there were a few men who cradled repeating rifles in the crooks of their arms. Trotting around them, a pack of wild dogs yelped and snarled at one another as if they awaited the command to begin feeding.

  "We're doomed," Granger whispered softly. "There are too many of them. They've got us surrounded."

  "Things could be worse, I suppose," Indy remarked dryly.

  "How's that?" Granger asked, searching Indy's face.

  "They could be carrying baskets of snakes."

  Indy studied Tzi's rotund face, and then looked at Chang's hooded eyes and hawk-beak nose, a Fu Manchu mustache decorating his chin.

  "Those two guys are really ugly," he added, bringing the barrel of his Webley up, his finger curling around the trigger.

  "What they're planning to do to us will be ugly," Granger shot back. "If I get a chance I'll take a shot at General Tzi as soon as he gets in range. If I allow for the wind, I might be able to drop him. That ought to take the wind out of their sails!"

  "He won't ride that close," Indy promised. "The fat bugger is too smart for that. He'll let his dogs do the dirty work."

  "Too many dogs," Granger observed, with a hunter's understanding for wild animals attacking in packs.

  "They'll come at us from all directions." Indy swallowed hard. "Our guns won't scare them off."

  "Not the way you shoot, anyway," Granger agreed.

  "Would you quit picking on my shooting," Indy snapped. "It may not be fancy, but it gets the job done."

  "Indy," Granger said. "Save two bullets for that famous shooting of yours."

  "Why?"

  "For us," Granger said. "Our situation looks hopeless."

  "I'll never be that hopeless," Indy said. "If they want me dead, they're going to have to fight for the opportunity to kill me." He readied his pistol.

  "Get down, Jones!" Granger cried. But Indy's attention was riveted on a solitary animal well behind the riders and the other dogs. Its nose was to the ground. It was a dog of unusual size, with blue eyes, and it behaved as if it were tracking General Tzi and his men rather than being a part of the pack. It was difficult to tell at this distance, but it seemed that it had only one ear.

  "If I didn't know better I'd swear that's Loki," Indy muttered.

  But he wasn't given time for a closer inspection of the dog. A Mongol warrior wheeled his pony and sent it lunging down the side of the ravine. Indy drew back the hammer of the Webley. The warrior drummed his heels into the horse's ribs and charged, bending low over his black pony's neck with a carbine in his hands.

  "This fool is committing suicide," Granger said, sighting down the barrel of his Mauser.

  Suddenly the rider disappeared. A split second later he was hanging off the far side of his horse only inches from the ground, with one foot suspended in a length of rope, peering between his pony's flying legs, and it seemed he was almost smiling at them.

  "What the hell?" Granger wondered, scowling.

  Indy relaxed a little. This was showmanship, not an attack. "It's called the Cossack drag. I saw it once in southern Russia. General Tzi wants his men to put on an exhibition before he kills us so we'll be scared of him. I figure he won't kill us both until we tell him where to find that egg, so he aims to try to frighten us into a real talkative mood."

  "I can't shoot him without killing his horse," Granger said, lowering his gun barrel when the rider was hidden again behind his pony. "A nine-millimeter slug won't pierce that much tissue and bone. I'd be wasting a bullet."

  The Mongol galloped past them before he steered his speeding pony away. Indy glanced back to the ravine, noticing the absence of the one-eared dog he'd seen a moment earlier. Then he turned his attention to Tzi and Chang.

  "Looks like General Tzi has gained even more weight," Indy commented. "Nothing like a diet of human hearts to put some fat around a hungry warlord's belly."

  "Good grief, Jones. What a lousy time for bad jokes."

  The warrior returned to the pack. He rode over to Tzi and said something while motioning with his hands. Tzi nodded, then turned a baleful stare toward Indy and Granger. For a moment he sat on his horse as if he were cast in bronze.

  "They'll really be coming this time," Granger said. "The show is over."

  "You're beginning to irritate me with all your whimpering, Granger. We're not dead yet." Indy examined the pack of dogs again. "I'd almost swear I saw Loki a minute ago, only I know it can't be the same dog. He would have found his way back to us long before now if he could."

  When Indy glanced over his shoulder, he saw a line of mounted tribesmen beginning to form a loose circle around them. It was, he had to admit, a fearsome sight the way they were spread out with their dogs trotting at their horses' heels. Rifle barrels and swords glistened in the afternoon sun. Granger was sweating profusely when he saw the circle tightening. There appeared to be no escape.

  "This is what I get for listening to you, Jones," Granger snapped angrily. "If things were left up to me, I'd be on my way to New York now. Being friends with you will cost me my life, and all because of your stupid sentimentality over a reptilian egg."

  Indy was stunned by Granger's sudden outburst.

  Before he could answer, a swirl of dust cloaked the approach of General Tzi and
his army to the rim of the ravine. Groups of wild dogs scrambled everywhere, eyes fixed on the two men at the center of a tightening circle.

  Indy placed his back against Granger's.

  "Maybe it was stupid sentimentality, but Starbuck may give the world a gift so rare it could rewrite everything we know about the past," he said over his shoulder. "But I will ignore your bad temper because of the years of friendship we've shared. And I hate to interrupt this lovers' tiff, but try to kill as many of the dogs as you can. Maybe a few gunshots will bring someone to our rescue before it's too late."

  "You call that a plan?" Granger snarled over his shoulder. "If you hadn't noticed, it's much too late for that. I should never have listened to you in the first place, Jones."

  General Tzi raised his hand, making ready to signal a charge toward Granger and Indy. A silence spread around the far-flung circle of warriors. More tribesmen drew curved swords, reflecting rays of brilliant sunlight. Most of the dogs stopped barking as though they knew what would happen next.

  "Dr. Jones!" Tzi shouted. "How does it feel to know that you will die now at the hands of the great General Tzi?" His voice was hard to hear in the wind.

  "Not all that bad, actually!" Indy replied at the top of his lungs. "We were just saying that today was about as good as any to dine on fresh dog meat! And I'm saving my last bullet for you, you fat old—"

  "It is time!" Tzi cried, giving Chang a wicked half grin.

  A dog came out of the ravine, trotting closer to Tzi's pony in a curious way, limping slightly as if some old wound made it lame. Indy saw the dog when it broke into a run. There were so many dogs around them that none of Tzi's soldiers noticed it at first.

  General Tzi's massive head turned and his piglike eyes grew wide. He pointed toward the running dog and shouted a command. Chang drew his sword, but he was too late. The dog was already in the air, teeth bared.