Dragon Over Washington (The Third War Of The Bir Nibaru Gods) (22 page)

“What?” Anderson exclaimed. Agent Mathew lifted his M24 sniper rifle and loaded the bolt-action rifle, chambering a bullet. Then he went into a sitting position and then kneeled on one knee. He turned his head back and grinned at Anderson. He lifted the rifle, aimed through the M3A telescope sight, and, using the scope’s Mil dots, adjusted his aim to take into account the distance to the prone monster.

“No!” Anderson yelled just as the agent fired his rifle, the blast unnaturally loud in the night. Mathew manipulated the bolt, the 7.62 mm spent cartridge fell out, and another bullet from the five-round magazine was chambered. The agent fired in rapid succession, empting his magazine in less than ten seconds.

Anderson looked back at the monster. It was gone. The steel fence in front of the main farm building had been broken. A bright red postbox in the yard in front of the main farm building had been snapped in two as if it was a twig.

“Phase 2 failed. Moving to phase 3,” Agent Mathew said slowly into his mike. The agent pulled the empty magazine out of his rifle and jammed another one in. Suddenly the building shook as a deafening tearing, rumbling sound filled the night. Anderson and his team fell in a heap as the roof trembled, much like the bull had done at the approach of the monster.

“Sir, it’s inside the building! It smashed in through a wall!” It was Montoya’s voice on Anderson’s earphones. There was a hiss around them, loud, dark and promising death.

An explosion roared near Anderson, almost deafening him. Wood chips flew all around, pinging as they ricocheted off Anderson’s helmet.

Anderson froze. The creature’s head burst out of the roof, less than a foot away. Anderson saw the creature’s fangs unfolding and its jaws opening. Anderson tried to raise his M16 rifle, but his hands wouldn’t obey him.

A hand touched the creature’s nose and it stopped moving, its fangs folding back and its jaws closing. It was Benson. His hand moved to the creature’s iron-hard scales, a dreamy expression on his face, his thick glasses reflecting the creature’s green eyes.

A blast came from the yard in front of the building. Anderson looked out. He saw the black NSA ford van in the yard, a sizeable cloud of smoke surrounding it. A boxy muzzle brake at the tip of a long barrel jutted out from the smoke cloud. The gun fired again, the loudest gunshot blast Anderson had ever heard. The creature sank down into the building and rumbling crashes erupted from inside the building, like something heavy smashing walls.

“Zero penetration on target,” a voice said on the radio.

There was another crash and Anderson saw the creature emerge from the building and charge the black NSA van. One NSA agent was aiming the biggest rifle Anderson had ever seen, its long barrel emerging from a boxy rail with cooling slits. The rifle was fixed to a bipod coming out of a circular opening in the van’s roof. The van sped away as the creature erupted through the building’s wall in a shower of wood splinters, causing everyone on the roof to lose their balance.

The agent fired again as the van sped, the engine roaring, towards the farm’s exit road, raising dirt and smoke after it. The creature stopped in its tracks as the shot slammed into it, but it shook itself and continued on, its snaking movements making it blaze across the ground.

“All alpha units, fire!” Anderson roared, watching the creature streak across the ground. A firestorm erupted around the creature. Small flames, dirt and rocks flying high as bullets hammered all around it. Occasionally, red lines crisscrossed over the creature’s path as tracer rounds lit the darkness. Yet the creature’s armored scales seemed impervious to the steel- jacketed rounds ricocheting off it with loud pinging sounds, though it shuddered from the impacts.

“Alpha One! It’s headed right for you!” shouted Anderson into his helmet mike, gripping the roof edge with his hands, watching the creature surge northward. The monster’s scales changed color again, darkening from bright red into a green and brown pattern.

“Copy that, alpha! We’ll goanna stop it cold!” Montoya said over the radio.

“Negative! Clear out!” Anderson called out.

“It took out Reimer! No way it’s going home now!” Montoya said. Anderson cursed and ran to the ladder, picking up his M4 on the way. He moved as fast as he could towards the Hummers waiting below.

“Nice and easy, nice and easy,” Montoya murmured as they watched the monster advance towards them. The co-gunner arranged the ammo box so that the bullet belts would not be entangled, jamming the Mag. The gunner trained his M240 machine gun on the beast, safety off. He sighted through the iron sights, watching as the monster grew closer, tracking it as its head moved from side to side.

“Not yet, not yet. Remember, short bursts. Keep your aim on the target,” Montoya murmured, watching the animal through his own M4. The thing was four hundred feet away when Montoya took his eyes from his weapon’s sight. He watched the monster flow towards them, its triangular head held low, its armored hide rippling with muscles as its legs pumped. Its long tail swung behind it, undulating, the spiny crest running from its head to the tip of the tail.

“Dios!” Montoya whispered in awe. He shook himself and raised his weapon again.

“Fire!” Montoya snapped. The gunner squeezed the trigger lightly. At eight hundred bullets a minute, the creature was engulfed again in a cloud of flying dirt as the 7.62 millimeter machine gun bullets slammed into it and the earth around it. But the creature plowed on, unharmed. The gunner fired again, a longer burst this time. Still the creature plowed on, a continuous hiss emerging from tit as it increased its speed, its long tail flying behind it.

The hiss was affecting Montoya, trying to make him fall down and curl up, triggering ancient, mammalian fears. He gritted his teeth. The snake-like hiss, magnified to horrendous volume, was affecting his reactions, pressing buttons deep is his brain. The reptilian head rose up and the eyes flashed green, illuminating the area around it. Montoya fired from his kneeling position, a snarl frozen on his face. He emptied the magazine and replaced it with a new one. He risked a glance at the gunner. The man was just lying there behind his machine gun, stupefied.

“Kuntz, what’s with you? Fire, man!” Montoya yelled. The co-gunner tried to shake the gunner, but he didn’t budge.

“Grab the Mag and fire!” Montoya snapped as he fired at the creature on full automatic. The creature was approaching at a steady pace, the 5.56 millimeter M4 rounds failing to slow it down.

“I can’t get it!” The co-gunner tried to take the Mag away, but the gunner had it in a death-like grip. Montoya stopped firing when the creature was almost upon them.

“
Una Puta!
” Montoya cursed. The creature veered to the left of their hill. Montoya watched, wide-eyed, as the tail of the creature, a pair of cruel horns at its tip, flicked up and out. He jumped on the co-gunner as the tail slammed down, the spikes at the tip aiming for them. The co-gunner fell flat on the earth, but one long spike impaled Montoya. He screamed as he was picked up and hurled against the steel fence. The tail flicked free and the sergeant slid to the ground as if made out of jelly.

The co-gunner went to Montoya and was just feeling for his pulse when Anderson’s Hummer pulled up. Anderson went to Montoya. The sergeant was slowly returning to conscience. He groaned loudly as Anderson opened his armor vest. The SAPI plate on his breast had a huge dent in it, but was not otherwise breached. Anderson left the co-gunner to help Montoya back to his feet and climbed the small earthen mound that Montoya had used as a fire position. The creature was gone. A short scan through the area using his night vision goggles revealed a forest devoid of any monsters. The NSA van pulled over and Agent Mathew stepped out. He watched Montoya being helped to a Hummer and then went over to Anderson, his hand over his small P90 machine gun.

“Captain Anderson -” the agent began.

“You fucking idiot! You almost killed us all!” Anderson snarled. Mathew didn’t reply at first. He looked out to the north, at the direction the creature had gone.

“I suggest you try to find your missing FO, captain. We’re clearing out,”

Captain Anderson stomped away to his Hummer. He reached it and turned his head. The African American NSA agent was still there, staring at the forest to the north. Anderson looked at his hand resting on the Hummer’s door. It was shaking.

Agent Mathew went carefully over the debris on the farmland’s ground. He did not tarry, inspecting the place where the creature devoured the bull. Then, the agent drove over the trail the creature had taken, easy to spot since the ground was riddled with bullets. The agent brought out a small vial and scooped up a tiny amount of thick, black fluid, easily discernable by the black smoke plume coming out of it. The agent put a stopper on the vial and examined it closely, but a moment later threw it down. The fluid boiled and the vial quickly filled with noxious black smoke, after which the glass vial promptly melted. Agent Mathew looked at the smoking vial expressionlessly.

“We should have brought bigger guns, Benson.”

“Why? Why? It didn’t attack you. It only wanted to eat. Only men do violence for the sake of violence,” Benson said, looking at the remains of the vial on the ground, his voice shaking.

“It killed men and destroyed your farm,” Mathew said. “We are going to get it sooner or later.”

Benson didn’t reply.

It did not take them long to find Henry Reimer. The man was shaking badly. He didn’t respond to queries, continuing to mumble even as he was being pulled towards one of the Hummers.

“Dr. Dr. Dra. Drag. Dra.
Gon! Gon! Dra. Dra. Dragon! Dragon! DRAGON!!!”

***

Benson reached his boulder near the base’s fence. He stood with his back to it, looking out into the dark, grassy meadow. He rummaged inside his overalls, took paper and tobacco and rolled himself a cigarette. He lit it after a few tries, his hands shaking so much he had difficulty holding his match straight.

Finally, his cigarette caught and he drew in deeply. He stopped shaking, the cigarette a red point of light in the night.

Nine tiny pairs of green light lit up in the grass, like tiny earth-bound fireflies. He lowered his cigarette and the points of light moved in unison, approaching him and then disappearing. A small chirping sound echoed in the night. A small triangular head popped out of the grasses, its ears moving excitedly. Benson smiled as he saw it and held a piece of army-issue hamburger in the air. The small reptilian creature flicked its forked tongue out, tasting the air. Its eyes were on the hamburger, the black vertical pupils widening in its green eyes. The creature changed its color from dark green to light orange as it jumped up.

Benson smiled as the creature passed through the wire fence and hopped at Benson’s feet, following the movements of his hand. Benson put a piece of meat on the ground and the small lizard leaped forward, took the meat in its mouth and jumped back. It moved away and stopped ten feet away from Benson. Its sharp teeth bit into the meat, ripping through it. The little lizard’s color changed again, its scales now taking on a red sheen. A small wisp of black smoke rose from the piece of meat, as if the lizard was somehow roasting it while it ate. The creature finished the piece of meat, raised its head and chirped loudly. Benson laughed and broke off another piece. He offered it to the small creature, which again jumped at his feet, its supple tail swinging, the deformity at its tip swishing through the air.

Another chirping sound came from the direction of the fence. Benson saw another small lizard pop its head through the wire. It chirped again and the broken-tailed lizard at Benson’s feet chirped at it and then jumped up playfully, trying to reach the meat in Benson’s hand. Benson ignored it. He waved the meat in the air, trying to attract the newcomer. The new lizard, slightly larger than the first, was more timid. It took its time coming out from the cover of the tree and wouldn’t approach Benson, staying several feet away.

Benson noticed that the new lizard had one scale on its nose that didn’t change colors, even though all the other scales on this lizard’s body changed from green to black to orange. The lizard stayed away, its large eyes watching the man warily, its ears moving constantly, scanning. Benson finally threw the food to it and the lizard jumped forward to take it, whereupon the broken-tailed lizard went after the thrown piece of meat too, trying to snatch it away from the other. That lizard, however, held its prize tightly and distanced itself from its sibling and Benson. It coiled around the meat morsel and began tearing into it, small sharp fangs ripping the meat. The broken tailed lizard gave up and retuned to Benson, prancing at his feet.

Benson broke off another piece of meat and held it high. More chirping arose and two more lizard heads popped out. Benson tried to lure them closer, but, again, they remained safely out of his reach. Benson threw them pieces of food, though the little broken-tailed lizard intercepted the first piece, jumping impossibly high. The other pieces, however, reached their destination while ‘broken tail’ was busy with its own meal. After it finished, however, it went to the other lizards, trying to snatch at their meals.

Benson laughed. He watched the nine small, color-changing lizards, including the cheeky broken-tailed one, the one with the scale on the nose that didn’t change colors, and a shy lizard that was bigger than the rest, but also wouldn’t emerge from behind the tree where it was hiding. Benson had to throw it two pieces of meat, since the smaller broken-tailed one stole the first morsel aimed at the bigger lizard.