Denied the chance to be a god. It ain’t often I get the measure of a man wrong. But I welcome the mistake.”
“Am I a god?” asked Teacher.
“With the risk of breaking your half-wit heart with a no. No, shit-bird.”
Teacher hung his head low.
“I’ve become an expert of Nam,” continued Stephens, “the war, the enemy, and my own soldiers; everything has started to become predictable. Even in battle I’ve started to have an ability to see a few moves ahead of the action. I’ve studied the rats long enough to know how they work, to know how they react to certain stimuli. All these reasons add to my numbness, but maybe Jacobs’s presence can help to alleviate that feeling. Even if just ever so slightly. Maybe my inability to predict Jacobs could be just what I need. That glorious chaos I crave.”
“Maybe, Sarge.” Teacher looked confused.
“Sometimes I don’t know why I talk to you, Teacher. You’re the kinda guy that would piss into the wind. Get back to the Doc. That’s an order.”
“Okay.”
Teacher left and Stephens continued into the dark jungle.
Stephens came around a tree and saw it.
One of the dragons.
It was chewing on the leg of a wounded NVA soldier. The trooper was sat with his back to a tree. He was smiling.
The dragon looked at Stephens.
It had a wingspan of five feet. The wing membrane extended between the fingers and toes as webbing. The finger and toe claws were covered in keratin sheaths that extended and curved into sharp hooks well beyond their bony cores.
The skull was long and narrow. It had a crest on the top of it that extended upwards into a backward curving structure.
The jaws were straight apart from small hooks on the very tips. Both upper and lower hooks no larger than the fangs that surrounded them.
It had more than ninety large conical teeth in its beak-like mouth. The teeth extended back from the tips of both jaws and became smaller farther into the mouth they went.
The dragon was covered in scales like any other reptilian creature.
Stephens fired at the beast.
The burst of bullets hit it in the chest. It screamed at him, showed blood and flesh stuck to its teeth. With a thump of thunder, it flapped its wings and took off into the air.
Stephens fired off some shots after it. But the darkness had already camouflaged the dragon. It had made its escape.
Diaz ran into the scene. His M-16 aimed at the sky. “Did you hit it?”
“I think so,” said Stephens.
“What was it?” Diaz lowered his rifle. “Was it one of the dragons?”
“Don’t tell the other men about this.”
“But …”
“Did you hear me?” Stephens raised his voice.
“Yes, but …”
“Not a word.” He pointed at Diaz.
The wounded NVA started to laugh and speak Vietnamese, rapidly. Blood ran from the corners of his mouth.
“What’s that crazy son of a bitch saying, Diaz?” asked Stephens.
“He says we’ll never win this war. He says they’ll never win this war. The dragon will win. The jungle belongs to the dragon. To God. He is now a part of God. God has feasted on his flesh. They are as one.”
Stephens shot the NVA in the face. “Remember, not a word.”
“I guess,” answered Diaz.
“Don’t guess. Do.”
“Okay.”
“Get back to the platoon.”
Diaz walked away.
“Forget Jacobs,” Stephens said to himself. “The dragon can be my chaos. The dragon can end the numbness. The dragon is a worthy opponent.”
• • • • •
The next day, back at the LZ, Jacobs was sat alone on the edge of a foxhole. He held a letter in one of his hands, a cigarette in the other.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” Maxwell said as he sat down next to him.
“I didn’t. Or don’t. I got the smoke from Jackson. I thought under the circumstances, it was called for.”
“I heard the ambush was … eventful.”
“That’s one way to put it,” said Jacobs.
“How are you holding up?”
“I’ve got to deal with more losses. More of my men have died. I
“Am I a god?” asked Teacher.
“With the risk of breaking your half-wit heart with a no. No, shit-bird.”
Teacher hung his head low.
“I’ve become an expert of Nam,” continued Stephens, “the war, the enemy, and my own soldiers; everything has started to become predictable. Even in battle I’ve started to have an ability to see a few moves ahead of the action. I’ve studied the rats long enough to know how they work, to know how they react to certain stimuli. All these reasons add to my numbness, but maybe Jacobs’s presence can help to alleviate that feeling. Even if just ever so slightly. Maybe my inability to predict Jacobs could be just what I need. That glorious chaos I crave.”
“Maybe, Sarge.” Teacher looked confused.
“Sometimes I don’t know why I talk to you, Teacher. You’re the kinda guy that would piss into the wind. Get back to the Doc. That’s an order.”
“Okay.”
Teacher left and Stephens continued into the dark jungle.
Stephens came around a tree and saw it.
One of the dragons.
It was chewing on the leg of a wounded NVA soldier. The trooper was sat with his back to a tree. He was smiling.
The dragon looked at Stephens.
It had a wingspan of five feet. The wing membrane extended between the fingers and toes as webbing. The finger and toe claws were covered in keratin sheaths that extended and curved into sharp hooks well beyond their bony cores.
The skull was long and narrow. It had a crest on the top of it that extended upwards into a backward curving structure.
The jaws were straight apart from small hooks on the very tips. Both upper and lower hooks no larger than the fangs that surrounded them.
It had more than ninety large conical teeth in its beak-like mouth. The teeth extended back from the tips of both jaws and became smaller farther into the mouth they went.
The dragon was covered in scales like any other reptilian creature.
Stephens fired at the beast.
The burst of bullets hit it in the chest. It screamed at him, showed blood and flesh stuck to its teeth. With a thump of thunder, it flapped its wings and took off into the air.
Stephens fired off some shots after it. But the darkness had already camouflaged the dragon. It had made its escape.
Diaz ran into the scene. His M-16 aimed at the sky. “Did you hit it?”
“I think so,” said Stephens.
“What was it?” Diaz lowered his rifle. “Was it one of the dragons?”
“Don’t tell the other men about this.”
“But …”
“Did you hear me?” Stephens raised his voice.
“Yes, but …”
“Not a word.” He pointed at Diaz.
The wounded NVA started to laugh and speak Vietnamese, rapidly. Blood ran from the corners of his mouth.
“What’s that crazy son of a bitch saying, Diaz?” asked Stephens.
“He says we’ll never win this war. He says they’ll never win this war. The dragon will win. The jungle belongs to the dragon. To God. He is now a part of God. God has feasted on his flesh. They are as one.”
Stephens shot the NVA in the face. “Remember, not a word.”
“I guess,” answered Diaz.
“Don’t guess. Do.”
“Okay.”
“Get back to the platoon.”
Diaz walked away.
“Forget Jacobs,” Stephens said to himself. “The dragon can be my chaos. The dragon can end the numbness. The dragon is a worthy opponent.”
• • • • •
The next day, back at the LZ, Jacobs was sat alone on the edge of a foxhole. He held a letter in one of his hands, a cigarette in the other.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” Maxwell said as he sat down next to him.
“I didn’t. Or don’t. I got the smoke from Jackson. I thought under the circumstances, it was called for.”
“I heard the ambush was … eventful.”
“That’s one way to put it,” said Jacobs.
“How are you holding up?”
“I’ve got to deal with more losses. More of my men have died. I
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