Indiana Jones and the Dinosaur Eggs

by Max McCoy

  A nightmarish face arose from the ball of flesh he tried to grip in his hands. Dark, reptilian eyes beheld him for a moment. A pair of knobs protruded above the eyes, two tiny horns in their earliest stage of formation. A single ivory-colored knob adorned the little creature's nose. Indy was struck immediately with how much it resembled a miniature rhinoceros.

  Joan gasped. "It's a triceratops, and it's alive."

  The creature made no sound. It stopped squirming in Indy's palms, moving its unsightly head toward the carbide light. Indy put it down gently on the grotto floor when Starbuck knelt beside it.

  "A living fossil," Starbuck said with reverence. "It isn't a dream any longer."

  The animal moved its short legs, testing them. In a moment of silence Granger groaned again, clasping both hands to his stomach.

  A second later the triceratops planted its rear legs underneath its body and raised up unsteadily, hindquarters in the air. Next, it came to its front feet, swaying a little until it was sure of its balance.

  And still it made no sound.

  "I'll be damned," Indy whispered. "Here's the last dinosaur on earth and it's looking at us like we're the ones who don't belong here." Indy took his hands away, wiping the sticky fluid clinging to his palms and fingers on the straw.

  Granger sat up, warning Indy to be ready for another round of flying fists.

  "Look at this thing, Granger," Indy said, coming to his knees. "How can you or anyone else believe something so spectacular is worthy of being stuffed in a taxidermy shop? This creature is a part of something much larger than any of us can comprehend. We can't run the risk of doing anything that might upset nature's peculiar balance here. Some freakish twist of fate allowed this triceratops to escape extinction in this exact spot. It simply can't be removed. The odds against its survival are too high."

  Granger struggled to his feet.

  "Don't you think nature—or God, if you will—has some plan for this living, breathing anachronism? We can't kill it like we have killed other living things on the planet. I'm sure it would make one helluva hatband, Granger old boy, but it seems to me it's here for something more important."

  Indy got up cautiously, keeping an eye on Granger's hands.

  Granger studied the baby dinosaur for several thoughtful seconds. The animal simply stood there watching as four humans stared back at it.

  "I'm sorry," Granger said, taking a deep breath. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I don't know what came over me. All I could think of was a lifetime of hardship with no reward."

  "No reward?" Indy asked. "Granger, are you nuts?"

  "Normally, no."

  "Think of the adventures we've had together," Indy said. "How many other people can say they actually did something to make a difference in this world, instead of just going along with the crowd?"

  "You can't put it in the bank," Granger complained.

  "Friendship won't fit in a savings account either," Indy said, "but I wouldn't trade your friendship for all the money in the world. I know you hate those funny guys in the orange robes, but what they say about money makes sense."

  "Sorry I lost my head just now," Granger said.

  Starbuck distracted everyone by touching the dinosaur with the tip of a finger.

  "He'll be getting hungry," Starbuck said. Then he spoke to one of the children outside the shrine. Soon, a willow basket full of colorful blossoms was brought to the shrine.

  Starbuck offered the baby one of the flowers.

  He sniffed at it and then took it in his parrotlike beak, munching happily.

  "He's eating," Starbuck said excitedly.

  A noise startled Indy and the others. It sounded like the grunt of a baby pig. The tiny triceratops blew through oblong nostrils at the end of a somewhat pudgy nose, its pointed lip curling toward Starbuck's finger.

  "He said hello to us," Starbuck joked.

  Joan knelt beside her father, staring at the baby with a look of utter fascination. "Welcome to the twentieth century," she said quietly. "You can't imagine how surprised we are to see you."

  Indy turned back to Granger. Granger extended a handshake.

  "I'm truly sorry for the way I behaved, Indy."

  Indy rubbed sore knuckles, then grinned. "No need to say any more. All I want is your word on one thing... we never reveal the location of this valley to anyone, until Professor Starbuck and Joan agree that the time has come to show the world our secret."

  "Agreed," Granger promised.

  They shook hands.

  Later, as Joan held the sleeping baby dinosaur in her arms, Indy sat down next to her.

  "It's hard to imagine," she said. "This little ball of horn and skin will eventually grow to be over thirty feet long and weigh eight tons. A real monster."

  "Why, Sister"—Indy grinned—"you seem almost happy."

  "I am," she said. "For the first time in my life, I'm thinking of something besides myself. My father needs me, and this little thunder lizard needs me as well. Two out of three ain't bad."

  "What do you mean?" Indy asked.

  "I had hoped you would round out this happy trinity."

  Indy was silent.

  She placed a hand on his arm. Then she leaned over, carefully so as not to disturb the sleeping baby, and kissed him with as much passion as she could muster in so awkward a position. Indy closed his eyes and could feel the world slip away.

  "Stay with me," she urged.

  "It's tempting," Indy said.

  "Then why not?" she asked. "You'll never find another paradise like this one. No war, no crime, no need to worry about money. Everything you could hope for is here—and more."

  "I agree," Indy said. "It is a paradise. And I think, in time, I could learn to forgive you for lying like a rug to me and Brody and Granger. Hell, who am I kidding? I already forgive you."

  "Stay," she urged.

  "I can't."

  "Why not?"

  "It's too easy," Indy said. "I want to forget all the hatred and disappointment that is in the world. But it would be just too damned comfortable. It feels wrong."

  "What's so wrong about feeling good?" Joan asked.

  "Nothing, if that's where your destiny leads you," he said. "But this isn't for me. My gut tells me I still have some things to do out there."

  "And you're still in love with—"

  "Alecia," Indy said.

  Joan looked away.

  "But I'm going back to the world knowing that you were the good person I thought you were when I first met you," Indy said. "Despite all that has happened on this journey, the cannibals and the privations, you have restored my faith in humanity. That is what I'm taking back with me. And the knowledge that you and your father are here, taking care of the past for the future."

  "I'll miss you," she whispered.

  "I'll miss you, too," Indy said. "But keep taking notes. Write that book. You owe it to the world. That's your destiny."

  10

  The Knife of Genghis Khan

  A desert wind blew hot and dry across Indy's sun-blistered skin. The crown of his hat was soaked with sweat and sand particles clung to his dampened neck and forearms. Loki trotted beside him, staying in his master's shadow to be out of direct sun.

  Granger walked beside them, the Mauser slung like a pole across his shoulders.

  Off to the south a range of tall mountains purpled in haze stirred up by the mighty steppe winds blasting across the open flats. A few stunted trees dotted the horizon here and there, offering scant shade for weary desert travelers. Indy knew that both he and Granger, and probably the dog, were too thirsty to go much farther. They had slung gourds filled with food and water over their shoulders before leaving the secret valley, but despite their best attempts at rationing, their supplies were now exhausted.

  "Stop," Granger said.

  "What is it?" Indy asked tiredly.

  "Over there, Jones." Granger pointed. "On that ridge to the south. It's about four hundred yards, but I think
I saw antelope."

  Indy nodded.

  "I'm going to attempt to bag it," Granger said. "It's worth a chance. We need meat, and we could drink the blood."

  Indy made a face.

  "You stay here," Granger said. "I can't get close enough for a shot with you and the dog in tow. Why don't you go take a rest in the shade of that rock over there. And stay put, because I need to be able to find you when I get back."

  "No problem," Indy said. "I can use the rest."

  Indy trudged over to the boulder and sat down with his back to the shady side. Loki followed and put his head on Indy's thigh, begging for affection.

  "How're you doing?" Indy asked the dog. "Thirsty? So am I."

  The dog panted happily.

  They had waited in the shade of the rock for more than an hour when Loki growled.

  "What is it, boy?"

  The dog looked back at Indy with concerned eyes, as if he understood. Then he growled again, hairs bristling along his back.

  Indy was sure they were back in the territory controlled by Tzen Khan, so why did Loki sense trouble? Or had Granger's memory failed and led them into a region ruled by some other warlord?

  Loki continued to growl.

  The shepherd's good ear stood up, cocked in the direction of a sand dune a couple of hundred yards away. Indy trusted the dog's keen senses.

  "Something's behind that dune," Indy said to himself. He stood, took the revolver from his belt, and moved cautiously forward.

  When they had closed to within fifty feet of the top of the dune, Loki became hesitant. He whined softly, and looked at Indy with eyes that seemed to plead for them to go back.

  "C'mon, Loki. Whatever's back there can't be all that bad. Tzi is dead, and that only leaves—"

  Loki barked savagely when a distant figure rode over the top of the dune. A thick-chested Mongol atop a nervous chestnut stud halted his mount on the crest of the sand hill.

  "That's General Tzi's stallion," Indy breathed. "Only he's dead. It looks like Tzi's lieutenant. At least he's ugly enough to be."

  Indy knew Chang hadn't followed them just to be sociable.

  It was a challenge, a fight Chang wanted. Indy wondered why Chang would wait for another opportunity when he and the soldiers could have killed them at the ravine.

  "I hope he came alone," Indy said.

  Indy strode forward, deciding that any sign of cowardice would be fatal. Loki struck a trot to stay beside him, growling softly, ear pricked forward. The closer Indy came to the horse and rider, the surer he was of the Mongol's identity.

  Chang had a carbine, and he rested the stock against one knee. He watched Indy approach without moving a muscle, holding his stud in check with a tight rein.

  Indy was well within rifle range, and still Chang sat his horse like granite.

  "What in the devil is he up to?" Indy asked Loki.

  As they neared, Loki's growl became louder, a warning as plain as the dog could make it. Indy's boots crossed a slab of sandstone where footing was better, then on to the next stretch of sugary sand.

  At the crest of the dune Indy stopped, watching Chang carefully, ready for any sudden move he might make to shoulder his rifle. Chang remained stock-still, while a gust of dry wind blew sand away from his horse's fidgeting hooves. Indy cast a hurried glance around him, making sure they were alone.

  "Jones!" Chang shouted. "Where you hide big eggs?"

  Loki snarled at the sound of Chang's voice.

  "We don't have them."

  "Tell me where is eggs or you die," Chang said, his face an unreadable stoic mask. "One monk tell general about eggs before he die. Allergorhai-horhai eggs."

  "We got hungry," Indy said, "so we ate 'em."

  Were soldiers hidden behind the dune? When Tzi died, surely Chang became the army's leader. Or was Chang in the prehistoric egg business by himself, so that profits didn't have to be divided among his relatives.

  "Not funny," Chang said.

  "Not kidding," Indy said.

  A steady increase in westerly winds began to sweep bigger clouds of dust and sand across the plain. With a thick sand screen between them, Chang's aim might be off just enough to make him miss with a rifle.

  "I kill unless you talk!"

  "I am talking. The eggs broke. It was an accident, so we ate what was inside. It tasted terrible. Tough as rubber. Like bad chicken."

  Now Chang's calm disappeared. He sent his horse forward in a walk, riding closer to Indy.

  "Tell me, Jones, or I cut out your heart!"

  Wind blasted across the dune, driving sand into the air in billowing swirls. Indy's hat almost blew off his head until he tilted its brim into the gust.

  "Some people say I don't have a heart," Indy said. "There's a woman in England who said my heart was made of stone."

  Chang urged the chestnut farther down the sandy slope, but as he approached he was quickly surrounded by gritty clouds of pale dust. Wind gusted, howling across the tops of surrounding sand dunes, screaming through apertures in rock formations, kicking up more dirt particles and sand as it swept across the land.

  Now! Indy thought as the chestnut horse edged a little closer, fighting against the storm. Indy lunged and grabbed the barrel of Chang's carbine and pulled him from the saddle. Chang's foot caught in the stirrup.

  The horse took off down the dune, dragging them both. Indy would not release his grip on the rifle for fear that Chang would make good on his promise to shoot him.

  The chestnut struck an awkward gallop through deep sand drifts. Spits of windblown sand struck Indy's face and stung his eyes as he wrestled for the carbine. Chang pulled the trigger and the gun fired repeatedly. Although the barrel became hot, Indy would not let go.

  Suddenly Chang's boot was free of the stirrup, and they were both tumbling down the side of a sand dune. Indy let go of the rifle, letting Chang spin away, while he grabbed his revolver and attempted a quick now-or-never shot.

  Chang came to a stop and threw down on Indy.

  The Webley's blast thundered above screeching winds, and Indy imagined he could hear the singsong flight of the bullet. Chang flew backward as the carbine cartwheeled from his hands.

  The chestnut continued to run.

  The cannibal lieutenant landed on his back, and slid on a moving carpet of sand to the base of the dune.

  Loki barked his approval.

  Sand peppered Indy's face until, as if by design, the wind died down enough to allow him to see Chang's body clearly.

  "A lucky shot," Indy said to himself.

  A dark red stain was widening on the Mongol's chest.

  Indy walked down the dune cautiously, making sure Chang was not moving. When he was ten feet away he kept his revolver aimed in front of him.

  Chang lay motionless, eyes closed, with blood streaming down his belly. Indy stood over him, casting a shadow across the spot where the Mongol had fallen. Blood seeped into the sand, disappearing when it trickled off Chang's ribs. His carbine lay a few feet away out of reach, a rusted Polish Karabin army rifle with its stock scarred by long use and neglect.

  When Indy was satisfied that Chang was unconscious, he squatted down to check the body for any sign of a pulse. He reached for Chang's throat to touch a carotid artery.

  Chang's eyes flew open—he made a grab for Indy's shirtfront and seized a fistful of fabric while his other hand formed a claw to scratch across Indy's face.

  Fingernails tore into Indy's cheeks.

  Indy leaped backward, wielding his gun like a club to strike Chang's jaw. The barrel of his Webley slammed into skin and bone with a dull thump, yet Indy was blinded by the Mongol's palm and he had only the sound and feel of his blow by which to judge the force of its impact. He heard a grunt as he fell back on his rump. At the same time Chang's fingers relaxed their ironlike grip on his cheeks and forehead.

  Chang tumbled over on his side kicking, making a sound like a wounded animal. A tiny fountain of red squirted by his right ear where a plug o
f skin dangled from his scalp. The front sight on Indy's .38 was bloody—a sliver of flesh dangled from it until he wiped it off on his pant leg.

  Indy scrambled to his feet breathing heavily and his heart was pounding like a drum. "That was close," he wheezed, after taking stock of his condition. When he touched his face a trace of red smeared his fingers.

  Chang cupped a brown palm over the hole above his ear. He fell silent and rolled over on his back. The look he gave Indy was one of pure hatred.

  "The hot breath of Buddha save you, Jones," he gasped with a great deal of effort, pink foam bubbling from his lips, indicating a torn lung where Indy's bullet had pierced his chest. "The Brilliant One spare your life by making wind blow...." He coughed up a mouthful of blood.

  "You had your chance to leave it alone, Chang."

  "You have egg of horhai. It belong to us."

  Indy pounded his fist in the sand.

  "Why do all of you tough guys insist on ownership?" he asked. Chang was dying and for some strange reason he wanted to explain. "The egg hatched. The horhai lives."

  Chang blinked.

  "Horhai lives?" he asked, spitting blood down his chin when he spoke.

  Indy nodded. "It lives," he said. "If nothing goes wrong—and if nobody bothers them, the horhai may come back as a species. My friends are scientists and they know what they're doing."

  Chang's eyes began to cloud with death.

  "Enlightened One must want it to be," he said. Then he lifted his hand and regarded the blood on his fingers and palm. "And this." Chang smiled.

  "Next time," he said, "I not follow False Lama."

  His eyelids fluttered closed, he coughed a final time, and he stopped breathing. After a moment there was a rush of air from his mouth as his lungs emptied.

  "I hope not," Indy whispered.

  He got up and brushed the sand from his palms.

  Then he hesitated. He looked at the body, then at Loki, who was sniffing Chang's pant leg.

  "C'mon, boy," Indy said. "We're not that hungry."

  Loki hesitated a moment, sniffed the wind, then followed Indy away from the dune. Even before they had returned to the boulder, the wind began to scour away their footprints and other signs of the desperate struggle.