Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  Of course something of that magnitude doesn't go unnoticed. Help from the dragon world had already arrived, prepared for anything. Anything but this. Those arriving on the scene had never experienced anything like it. They'd attended a lot of different emergencies, but nothing on this scale.

  Immediately the dragon world was put on alert, at the same time as the council was called into session to see if they could make something, anything, of the senseless devastation and wanton destruction. But it didn't stop there.

  Six minutes later, thousands of miles away in an ordinary paddy field just outside the small village of Wong Chan in Thailand, a similar device detonated. A remote place by any standards, the carnage should have been only a fraction of that from the Montreal explosion, but for one difference. Less than half a mile away from the epicentre of the blast, a newly completed industrial complex lay pretty much unattended, the staff off for the weekend, most at a specially designed estate some five or so miles away, built at great expense by the company. That company was... Cropptech. And deep inside a small, sterilised room at the heart of the facility, a small amount of laminium (small by dragon standards, but quite significant compared with the amount in the bomb) had been carefully contained inside a state of the art lab, having been recently extracted from a vein quite close by. As easily as tearing tissue paper, the terrific blast wave ripped apart the development, with the power still pretty much at its height when it hit the tucked away laminium. Doing what came naturally to it when extortionate amounts of heat, light, and energy assaulted it, the laminium multiplied everything, many times over.

  While in Montreal, everything in a two mile radius had been obliterated, here it was much more. A crater nearly four miles wide and over a mile deep sat firmly where the paddy field once had. The village, industrial complex, even the housing estate were all no more, along with every last bit of the surrounding area. Plants, animals, humans... all gone! Everything within a twenty mile radius had been wiped out, incinerated if you like, with a massive ground quake rattling its way along the length of the country in protest.

  Much more intense was the psychic wave from this event. Dragons over a hundred miles away were reported to have died instantly. Luckily the spot was a long way from any part of the dragon domain, much further than either the conventional or psychic blast could reach.

  Again, the local dragon authorities responded. Again they were stunned at what had happened on reaching ground zero. It was all fed back to the king and his councillors.

  Since then, three more bombs had gone off. One in Melbourne, Australia, one in the Turkish city of Ankara, and one in Macclesfield, England. Blasts in both Melbourne and Ankara had caused carnage and loss of life on the same scale as the Montreal blast, while in Macclesfield something had gone awry, the explosion turning out much smaller than intended, but still causing a lot of damage. Planted in St Michael's church, of which there was nothing left, dozens of houses had been destroyed, along with a few shops, a couple of pubs and part of the famous Macclesfield canal. Again, the loss of life was staggering, but not on the scale of the other sites, with the blast radius of this one measuring only a hundred yards or so. But still, the market town was in disarray, confusion and mourning. Emergency services attended the scene, both dragon and human alike, some even attending in both capacities. It was chaos and mayhem combined. But it could have been worse.

  * * *

  All the bombs were linked to the same timing device, their countdowns all showing the same numerals, all set to blow up together. Well, not quite. Manson, you see, had been the one building the bombs. For a being of his intellectual capacity and motivation it had been easy. But alone in one of the sterile labs at the Cropptech site in Salisbridge, late one night, a thought had occurred to him, just as he'd started working on timer circuit board number eight out of fifteen. The plan had originally been to sow the seeds of chaos and destruction on a global scale... all at the same time, throwing both human and dragon governments into anarchy. But as he sat at the pristine, white desk, his soldering iron smoking like a television character from the 70's, he thought about some of the books he'd read and films he'd watched in the relatively short time he'd been free from the cold. A common theme had always been the dashing hero arriving exactly at the last second as the bomb ticked down, cutting through the right wire just in the nick of time. A smile crossed his malevolent face, his dark, dead eyes twinkling for a moment as the dastardly thought flickered through his mind. It was a thought he liked, a thought that appealed to him. He would add something to the circuit boards he hadn't built yet... a random algorithm, one that could potentially detonate the bombs before the countdown finished, setting it up so that they could indiscriminately go off at any time during the last half hour of the countdown. That way, any hero who managed to stumble across one would think they had long enough to do something about it, when in actual fact... BOOM! They wouldn't. Chuckling slightly to himself (something he rarely did) as he pulled some solder off the reel, watching it melt on the tip of his soldering iron, he imagined some poor sucker with time running out, getting the biggest, and most final, surprise of their life.

  * * *

  It was an odd sensation... reaching out with your mind for something a great distance away. It was the ultimate out of body experience. But that's exactly what the two friends were doing, right at this very moment, without much luck it had to be said. All around them chaos ensued, as the blaring wail of the fire alarm accompanied the rush of people exiting the building below them.

  Finally, they gave up, after having tried for nearly two whole minutes, not very long I know, unless of course you're in a building that's about to explode.

  "Why can't we reach anyone?" ventured Peter, starting to panic.

  "I'm not sure," replied Tank, thinking. "But whatever the reason, I think we're on our own."

  Peter nodded.

  "Do you think everyone will be safe at the far edge of the car park?

  Tank swallowed nervously, having already done the figures in his head, and if the laminium inside the black casing was one of the missing fifteen small, ring sized chunks taken from the Salisbridge Cropptech site, then everyone was in big trouble.

  "It's only possible to see a speck of the metal through the window of the box. If that's all the laminium in there, then maybe they will be safe. But if there's more, and I'm thinking of the chunks that went missing when Manson had control over Cropptech, then... no, none of us will be safe."

  Now it was Peter's turn to swallow at the thought of all the people outside, his friends, the hockey players... JANICE!

  "How not safe are they exactly?" he asked, not quite sure he was ready to hear the answer.

  "If we work on the theory that it is in fact one of the missing pieces of laminium in there, then I'm guessing the blast wave will cover at least a two mile radius."

  "WHAT!" Peter screamed at his friend.

  "I've run the calculations three times. I'm not wrong," stated Tank.

  Sure that his friend wasn't, Peter wondered how on earth they were going to get everyone far enough away? Not to mention all the other houses, shops, businesses... Cropptech!

  "Oh my God Tank," he cried. "If you're right, the blast wave will hit Cropptech. There's enough laminium there to not only level the city, but all the surrounding villages as well."

  Although both friends had reined in their emotions up until now, Peter's valid point about the Cropptech laminium really changed things, giving the bomb the potential to cause destruction on an unprecedented scale. If it went off, many tens of thousands of people would lose their lives, not to mention the damage to the city, its infrastructure and the surrounding countryside. There had to be something they could do.

  Peter started to say something, but Tank cut him off.

  "Let me think for a moment."

  Standing stock still, doing exactly as his friend asked, it was then that he remembered Aviva's dagger, stored safely away in his home. That would only enhan
ce the blast wave more, adding to the loss of life. Since the realisation about the Cropptech laminium, there was a real change in his friend's demeanour. He knew that Tank would lay down his life, just as he would himself, to prevent the bomb from going off. Waiting patiently, he wondered if the Cropptech site was in fact the primary target of the bomb. It would be just like the dragon Manson to do something sneaky like this, having a little revenge on all the humans he evidently disliked so much, while at the same time depriving the dragon community of the almost exclusive supplier of the valuable metal, as well as spreading fear and destruction. This was no coincidence, he was sure. They had to come up with a plan to stop it. They had nine minutes and forty six seconds to do just that.

  * * *

  Instantly, the heat and passion from the kiss melted away the cold air of the room. It wasn't the most romantic of places, but neither of them actually cared at the moment. They both just wanted to be together, something that grew more and more difficult with each passing day. Here and now, it was just about finding solace in each other's arms, making the most of the present. Two of his friends had made it easy for them to sneak down here and share a matter of minutes together without being discovered. Although she deplored her current surroundings, there seemed no other way, certain her house was being watched, and probably his as well. So this was it. And it was better than the alternative. But there was always a price to pay with love. Today, that would become more evident than ever before.

  * * *

  Deep inside the Kremlin's very dusty and very dark component warehouse, tucked behind a massive swathe of dirty wiring in the dim recesses of an ancient computer, a red digital display counted down, its numbers glowing brightly in the confined space. It had just dropped below nine minutes when a tiny random signal flared up from one part of the circuit board inside it, setting in motion a catastrophic chain of events. Mere milliseconds later, the explosive and the laminium that it was attached to, detonated.

  Instantly everything within the gorgeously coloured red stone walls of the Kremlin was obliterated. The Archangel's Cathedral, Spasky Tower, the lush trees and the Kremlin Museum (along with Tsar Peter the Great's boots) were all gone, not to mention all the government facilities and offices, some above ground, some below. Continuing on, the shock wave left a trail of destruction in its wake. Great surges of water careered along the Moscow River in both directions, destroying bridges, roads, shops and houses. Ground quakes rattled everything within the city of Moscow itself. Inside the Metropol hotel, valuable mosaics cracked with impunity, while the carefully sculpted marble that it was renowned for, ruptured, tumbling to the floor all around.

  Once again, in the blink of an eye, thousands had died. But despite the carnage, luck had been on their side. For behind the eerie wall against which the computer containing the bomb had sat, was a dedicated dragon storage base, one in which large amounts of laminium were regularly stockpiled. Up until the day before, a considerable amount had been contained there. It had all been moved to another location the previous afternoon, and that one event alone had probably saved hundreds of thousands of lives. At that moment in time, Moscow couldn't possibly know how lucky it had been, but at some point in the future, it would find out.

  * * *

  A silent countdown ticked down in his head, as he marvelled at the look of sheer concentration on Tank's face. Reaching forty-one, his friend's eyes shot open and he yelled,

  "I've got it!"

  Just then, the high pitched wail of the fire alarm stopped abruptly.

  "What? How?" exclaimed Peter.

  Tank turned to face his friend.

  "I can't stop the blast, but I think I might know how to contain it."

  "Contain it?"

  "Yes, contain it. That's the best I can do. It means losing this entire building, but given what we're facing, that seems like quite a small sacrifice. Wouldn't you agree?"

  Thinking about it for a split second, he realised that this whole place, the clubhouse, the pitches and especially the Astroturf, were all like a second home to him and he wanted no harm to come to any of them. But the choice was non-existent. At least this way, hopefully nobody would lose their lives, and that was by far the most important concern.

  "What do we do?"

  "I'm going to put a shield mantra like no other around the whole of the building, hopefully encasing the blast. IF I get it right, the kinetic power from the explosion SHOULD be channelled up into the sky and down into the ground. However, because of the scale of things, I might need you to lend me some of your magic and strength to help set it up and maybe even to cast it at the end. The only thing that worries me is that there is absolutely no wind at all today. Ideally we'd need a breeze to dissipate the part of the explosion that is channelled upwards into the atmosphere, to prevent the contamination just falling straight back down to earth later."

  "Well, there's not much we can do about the weather," added Peter. "Where do we start?"

  "WE don't," announced Tank. "I need to go to each corner of the building on both floors, starting off on the ground floor. You need to stay here and open yourself up to my thoughts. If you feel me flagging, lend me your strength and magical energy... all you can spare. There should be just enough time to wrap up the entire building, but we'll have to hurry. As well, make sure no one comes back in, otherwise they'll be trapped and caught up in the blast."

  Nodding as his friend sprinted past him at breakneck speed, heading for the ground floor, Peter, strangely, felt a sense of calm wash over him as the total quiet of the top floor surrounded him. He thought it quite surreal given the situation: bomb, panic, danger, destruction... but quiet. Moving across to the giant curved window, he gazed across to the crowd gathered at the edge of the car park. Enhancing his vision just slightly, he scanned the frightened faces. Richie, it appeared, was long gone, after storming out of the bar earlier. Not happy about falling out with her once again, it appeared that she was the one with the short temper, something of an irony given the usual turn of events, but in a sense he felt relieved and glad that it had all happened, because she wasn't here now, seeing all this, being so close to the danger that the bomb presented. Just as he finished scanning the crowd, it dawned on him that he hadn't spotted Janice, the whole point of doing it in the first place. Panic welling up inside him, threatening to flood over him and take control, he pushed it away and turned on hearing the soft sound of small footsteps running up the stairs. JANICE! Rushing across to the doorway, he was just in time as she turned the corner, and in a running jump, threw herself at him. Surprised, he nearly dropped her, but not quite.

  "What are you doing here?" he admonished her.

  "I wanted to make sure you were safe," she squeaked.

  "You have to get back outside with the others. You're not safe here."

  Turning to go, before she did, she mentioned one last thing.

  "Oh, the fire brigade are on their way. There was nothing I could do to stop them I'm afraid."

  'DAMN!' he thought. 'If they arrive, they'll insist on entering the building, and will all get themselves killed.'

  "JANICE!" he shouted after her down the stairs.

  "Yes?"

  "You have to make sure they don't enter the building. It's really not safe."

  "But how?" she answered.

  "I don't know," he declared. "Perhaps they won't turn up for a while. But do whatever you have to. They mustn't enter the building at all costs... It's important!"

  "I'll try," she yelled, before turning round and running back outside.

  'Things could be going... oh, so much better,' he thought. 'I truly hope Tank is having more luck.'

  * * *

  "See... what did I tell you? Nothing to worry about."

  Smiling, he gave her a small, knowing nod as they huddled together. She thought he looked magnificent, framed against the stark, white walls of the chilly cellar. With the noise having stopped, the kissing very much resumed.

  * * *


  Tank felt under more pressure than he had in his entire life... and rightly so. The lives of thousands, if not tens of thousands of innocent people were effectively in his hands. Trying not to think about it as he stood in the southernmost corner of the clubhouse on the ground floor, he knew what to do and, in theory at least, it should work and produce a giant invisible cylinder that would contain the blast by channelling it up and down instead of outwards. If only he had more time to check his work and make sure each of the mantra points in the corners of the building were set correctly, and that the points above and below matched. But time was the one thing he didn't have. As he finished uttering the last few words of this particular mantra, he glanced longingly out of the window at the torn up, muddy rugby pitch that he considered his friend. It called to him, sang to him even, the giant white goalposts seeming to smile in his direction. Brushing away all thoughts of the sport he loved from his mind, a little synchronised timer remained, counting off the minutes and seconds until the bomb went off. Drained of magical energy, he sprinted off towards the next corner, knowing the cost of any mistake on his part could prove tragic.

  * * *

  Weaving her way through the array of vehicles that littered the car park, Janice ran straight up to the manager of the sports club who'd been marching sternly across towards her.

  "Is it safe to return?" he questioned, rather crossly.

  "Uhhhh... I'm not entirely sure it is," she answered, a little out of breath.

  "Why on earth not? The alarms have stopped, and I'm sure the fire brigade will be here any moment."

  Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, and she didn't have the faintest idea of what the hell was going on, but she knew that she trusted Peter implicitly, loved him deeply, and knew that whatever he and Tank were doing was in everyone's best interests. But she hated lying, and had never been any good at it.

  'Still, here goes,' she thought, bracing herself.

  "I think there might be some kind of gas leak. I'm sure that's what I could smell," she fibbed, mustering up some genuine feeling in her words.