Indiana Jones and the Dinosaur Eggs (23 page)

"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 of 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.

Loki put his nose in the air and began to bark.

Cranking over the dunes was the most curious contraption Indy had ever seen. It was the expedition's third truck, the one that had been left behind at Kalgan, only it was being pulled by a team of horses.

The windshield had been knocked out and Wu Han sat in the driver's seat, but instead of a steering wheel, he had a pair of reins in his hands. The back of the truck was piled high with supplies.

Granger sat in the passenger seat, laughing. On the hood of the truck was an antelope.

"Dr. Jones!" Wu Han called through the vacant windshield. "At last I have found you, after searching the length and breadth of the Gobi. I told you to count on me!"

"Wu Han," Indy breathed. "What have you done to our truck?"

"I'm sorry, but this is what the blacksmith had in mind when he said he could fix it," Wu Han said. "I hope you aren't angry. It is slow, but reliable."

"I'm not angry, Wu Han," Indy said. "I'm just glad to see you. And you're right—you did come through when we needed you. Now we can ride back in comfort, even if our truck only has two horsepower instead of a hundred."

Granger handed Indy a canteen.

Indy poured some water out in the palm of his hand and let Loki lap it up. Then he took a long drink himself.

"Where's Sister Joan?" Wu Han asked.

"Heaven," Indy said.

"I'm sorry," Wu Han replied, his head bowed.

"Don't be," Indy said. "She's with her father, which is what she wanted all along."

"Yes," Wu Han said. "I can understand that."

Indy took the expedition flag from his pocket. Wu Han found a long pole, and together they mounted it over the cab of the truck.

It unfurled and snapped in the wind.

"There," Indy said. "What do you think?"

"Well," Granger remarked as he leaned against the truck, "it's not what I had in mind, but it will do. A fitting end to the most backward expedition I've ever seen. Instead of bringing things out of the Gobi, we saw how much we could leave
here
."

An oasis beckoned at the bottom of a shallow valley, emerald green against brown sandstone on an arid plain. A Mongol warrior on a dappled gray pony approached Indy from a rock formation overlooking Khan's village of yurts, a lookout posted nearby to prevent a surprise attack.

Indy halted the team, awaiting permission to drive down to speak with Khan. The sentry galloped up and reined down hard in a cloud of dust. The Mongol was short, wiry, with a long scar down his cheek and traces of pockmarks on his skin, a survivor of the smallpox outbreak. Indy thought he remembered seeing this man with Khan.

"You are Dr. Jones," he said in halting English. He carried a very old Mosin Russian rifle, which he lowered in surprise as soon as he saw Loki. The dog was trotting beside the truck.

"We are here to pay our respects to the Great Khan," Indy said. "I have news of the death of General Tzi and the destruction of the False Lama."

"We have heard," the sentry said. "The exalted Tzen Khan is in the desert asking Buddha to show him nirvana, where there is no pain, no sorrow, no desire. He seeks a vision. He still grieves for his family."

Again the sentry's gaze fell on Loki.

"This is your dog?"

"Yes, of course," Indy said. "He is the one who saved us from General Tzi and his band of dogs and cannibals."

"Wonderful!" the sentry said.

"I'm glad you're pleased," Indy said, somewhat confused.

The Mongol grinned. "Khan will be very grateful for this wonderful news. More than anything, for the safe and unexpected return of his friend."

"I'm glad to be here," Indy said. "Tell me where I can find him."

"In the desert to the north. There is a holy mountain where Khan goes to pray. You can see it in the distance if you look closely with your heart."

He pointed.

Indy saw the faint outline of a bald mountain on the horizon despite the blowing sand clouds, which had become their ever-present companion.

"Come with me," the sentry said, wheeling his gray. "I am called Turi, and if you wish I will take you to our camp, then give you a horse so you can visit Khan at the sacred place."

Indy flicked the reins and the horse-drawn truck followed, with Loki running behind.

"Do you Mongols go everywhere at a full gallop?" Indy shouted, holding on to his hat.

"Life is short!" Turi shouted. "The desert is vast. You go slow, you see little. You go fast, you see much!"

"Where did you learn to speak such good English?"

"American missionaries came to Urga when I was a boy, before the Communists drove them out," Turi said. "The father of Tzen Khan sent us both there for learning."

They drove down to a spring pool surrounded by rocks and a few stunted trees. Dozens of tents had been erected around the pool. Curious villagers came out to watch them ride in. Some pointed to Loki and began talking excitedly among themselves.

Turi shouted to a tribesman. Moments later a group of women hurried from one of the tents carrying clay vessels of water and bowls of smoked goat meat. Indy was offered a jar of dark red wine, which he politely declined while a young Mongol boy came to the pool leading a bridled bay gelding bearing a typical Mongolian wood saddle.

Indy ate goat meat while Loki ate his fill as well.

"Take care of the team," he told Wu Han. "Granger, are you coming with me?"

"No, Jones, I think not," Granger said. "You and Khan seem to have some sort of spiritual bond which I don't pretend to understand. I will just stay here and grow fat on goat's milk."

"Suit yourself," Indy said, taking the reins on his borrowed bay. "Can we leave, Turi? I'd like to get there before sundown."