Like a cork in a country pond, the tail end of the zeppelin bobbed in the sky. The exposed metal skeleton was
slowly pulling the whole thing down, but under the remaining (and still burning) skin of the aft section, the helium
was trapped; continuing to keep the ship aloft and pointing straight down. Howard awkwardly began to make
his way up to it.
*****
Dearborne was straddling the pointed tip of the balloon. She had the Luger in her right hand and the butt of the
machine gun was squeezed into her left armpit. Her clothes had been ripped in several places in the scramble to
get to the rear of the zeppelin and the left sleeve had burned away from her blouse completely. Her face was
smudged with soot and a pencil- thin trickle of blood escaped a split lower lip. Her breath came heavy, but she
waited in her perilous position, because she had seen the plane drop out of the other zeppelin. She just needed a
couple more minutes, she hoped.
The tailfins, which now served as hiding places for Von Traken and his last few soldiers, were horizontal. She
had already perforated them in several places, so she could see through them and knew where the Nazis were
hiding.
"Fraulein, ve are all goink to die here!" one of the soldiers shouted.
"I can swim!" she shouted back. She scanned the fin to her left where Von Traken was crouched, watching the
plane circle. If she could get that scroll back, she wouldn't have to fish him out of the sea later... assuming
nobody had to fish HER out.
A sudden pop and a fist-sized ball of flame in front of her signalled the end. A hole had appeared very near the tip
and the last of the helium began to escape. Dearborne dropped the machine gun and fell to her knees to put her
hand over the hole. Helium still escaped between her fingers. The zeppelin picked up speed as it headed towards
the water, now only about 5,000 feet below. Thinking quickly, Dearborne shoved her arm into the open hole,
plugging it with her shoulder. Von Traken saw this and started towards her. She took at shot at him with the
Luger. She missed, but he stayed where he was. She scanned behind her and saw that the other Nazis were too wrapped up in their own deaths to worry about hers. Suddenly, the plane flew by at an upwards angle and lost a
passenger.
Indiana Jones sailed into Von Traken and crashed through the tough canvas of the tailfin he was using as cover.
Indy quickly shifted his focus from attack to self-preservation and grabbed at the now exposed skeleton of the
tailfin with one hand. He held Von Traken by the coat with the other. The uniform buttons popped loose in quick
succession, leaving the Nazi dangling by his garments. There, halfway out of the inside pocket, was the scroll,
now folded into a long rectangle. Indy hauled him upwards and as the Nazi officer scrambled to get a hold of the
fin's frame, Indy leaned his face over and pulled the scroll out of Von Traken's inside pocket with his teeth. Von
Traken kicked him in the side of the face, but Indy bit down hard, feeling his teeth crack. Indy let go of the man
and pumelled him with a meaty fist. Von Traken had to free one hand to cover his face and when he did so, Indy
reached over and grabbed the other one, yanking to free it from the metal frame. Von Traken's hold was good,
though, and he took the opportunity to reach for the scroll in Indy's mouth. Indy pulled away, hauling himself up to a standing position and Von traken bit his leg. Indy yelped through clenched teeth and saw Dearborne aiming the Luger their way. She was wobbly, though, with the fire creating heat updrafts and the wind blowing. Indy shook his head at her. She fired ayway, taking off Von Traken's left ear. He screamed and put both hands to the bloody side of his head. Indy kicked him like an old log and Von Traken slid away and over the edge with a horrible scream. Beyond him, the first zeppelin lost the last of its helium and dropped from the sky like a boulder.
Indy looked at Dearborne and smiled. She winced in return. The heat from the fire eating up the balloon was
making the air waver and her arm was right down in it! He crammed the scroll into a back pocket and buttoned it.
Then, he gracelessly crawled over to her as he unwound his whip from where he had it tied around his waist. He
glanced around and saw the plane readying another pass.
"Come on," he said standing. "When Howard flies over, we're hitching a ride." He flicked his whip for emphasis.
Dearborne was in a lot of pain. She didn't even want to think about what her arm must look like, but she left it in... waiting. They couldn't afford to have the zeppelin begin a quicker drop and ruin Howard's trajectory...
Timing....
Howard closed in. Indy held the whip behind him, readying an overhead arc that would catch the axle running
between the plane's exposed wheels. Dearborne saw the other Nazis gauging their chances of success at
getting away with Jones - or, at least, his whip. She shot one of them. One of them jumped overboard of his own
volition, leaving only one watching with pleading eyes the desperate attempt the doctors were making.
"Now!" yelled Indy. He reached with the whip. Dearborne yelped in relief as she yanked her arm out of the hole.
She saw the Nazi make his jump for Jones.
In the instant that the whip got enough bind on the axle to pull Indy off the zeppelin, Dearborn realized she couldn't feel her burnt arm and so threw her good, right arm around his neck and, spining, axe- kicked the airborne Nazi, sending him face-first to the canvas.
The zeppelin dropped, but so, too, did the plane. With all the extra drag now on the bottom, the nose went down
and Indy and Dearborne found themselves upside- down, twirling under the plane and banging in to the hull as it headed straight for the water.
Their eyes were closed. They had passed vertigo and concentrated only on holding their grips. Suddenly, they hit
something that wasn't the hull. Indy's first thought was that they had hit the water. All at once, he felt very heavy due to the drag in the water, so he squeezed into his grip. He held his breath and waited for his momentum to slow, so he could swim up, but he knew suddenly, that they were still airborne. He opened his eyes. The plane was levelling off, but was still going down. Dearborne's grip was no longer around his neck, but around his right leg. He looked down to see that Dearborne was not attatched to him at all - it was Von Traken! Badly burned, covered in blood and laughing like he'd won already. Dearborne's cry of rage tore Indy's eyes from the blood- covered Nazi long enough to see her dangling by one good hand and one very badly burned hand from his goose-stepping boots.
(LG>)
Of all the damned luck...Geeze! What did it take to kill this guy? Indy's first thought was of Dearborn... she looked to be hurting badly and couldn't last Much longer in her condition. Somehow he had to get her in the plane and out of danger.
There was only one way.
Von Trakken desperately wanted to shake the dunkoff Dr. Dearborn off his aching legs. Only the barest luck had
kept him holding on to the burning zeppelin till the plane passed and now he was stretched between the two
Americans, helpless. If only he was sure she didn't have the scroll, he would send her into the ocean and the fate
she deserved.
Dearborne hung on grimly... every part of her body screamed in agony, she tried to focus on the air rushing past,
the water below. Her arm had regained feeling and broke her concentration. Holding on was her only thought...
hold on the job's not finished yet.
Indy gritted his teeth and pulled himself up higher...the fact that he was pulling three people became very clear
very quicky. He reached up... just a few more inches. Hand over hand, up the whip he climbed... then, he felt the cold reassuring metal of the landing gear axel in his hand. Now, if he could just signal Howard somehow.
Von Trakken could not beleive Jones was attempting to climb up to the plane. Mine Gott! Wass ist this Americaner made of? he thought. It would be almost a shame to have to kill him once the plane landed.
Dearborne knew she couldn't hold on by herself anylonger. She had tried, but the pain was just too much to
control. She reluctantly closed her eyes.. tears stinging her raw cheeks. She reached down inside herself, into the heart of her being. There she found it waiting as always. Dearborne opend herself and felt the power filling her, the warmth and security overcoming the pain. Every inch of her surged with new energy. She was reborn.
Indy had tried in vain to hoist himself up on the axle, but the combined weight was just too much. As he hung
there, inspiration struck. he reached as best he could, trying to reach the old worn pocket knife he always carried
since he was a kid. There it was! Using his teeth to open it, he reached up, straining every muscle. There ! He
quicky cut a slit in the thin fabric of the plane's belly.
"HOWARD!" His shout was lost to the wind. "HOWARD!" Suddenly, somehow, Howard's head appeared through the slit. The plane began a graceful turn.
"Damn, Jones, how'd you get down there?"
"Listen , just do as I say..."
Three minutes later, Howard was once again in control of the plane. Using Howard's hand, Indy had been able to
haul his upper body over the axle, taking the strain off his arms. He cast a worried look down at Dearborne, who
appeared to be in a trance or maybe shock. Von Trakken, he tried not to look at.
He untied the whip. He had to time this just right or they were all dead. Looking down, he saw that, unless they did something soon the overloaded palne would hit the water anyway.
Closing his eyes, he tried to remember... tried to think back to that night in Casablanca. What was it she had
whispered to him? What?
He looked down at her, hurt- maybe severely. Holding on to the polished boots of the German in a deathgrip,
praying she had enough left to pull this off, he called to her.
"Thanku atru bkalka!" She looked up... the Atlanteen words brought her fully awake.
"Thanku myratue," she weakly called back.
*********
Jones snapped the whip as she whipped her legs up and out, holding them tightly together. The whip wrapped
around her ankles tight. She let go of the German's ankles just as Indy let go of the axle. As Jones and Von
Trakken dropped, she was thrown upward and, twisting her body, she caught the axle in both hands. The whip
looped around the axle stopped her from going completely over it. Down below, Indy and Von Trakken dangled in
the air.
She braced herself against the struts of the landing gear and, keeping as much slack as she could, untied her
ankles. She firmly tied the whip around the axle and looked down at Indy.
Indy was now free to kick Von Trakken in the face ,which he did repeatedly. The German uttered some
untranslatable curses and plunged an until now hidden dagger into Indy's leg just above the knee.
Dearborne balanced upon the axle and worked to widen the slit Indy had made in the plane's underside. Being a
light scout plane, the thing was all wood and fabric, so it wasn't hard to make an opening she could fit through...
The pain from the dagger made Indy clench his teeth and choke back a scream. He managed to bring his free knee up hard against the German's chin. Von Trakken was attemping to climb up Indy to reach the whip and the knee caused him to slip, but not far.
Howard was surprised to suddenly have Dearborne appear between his legs.
"Get in the back !" she shouted. He obeyed without thinkng, because at that moment, she sounded just like his mother back in Texas.
"Do you know how to fly this thing ?" A weak smile was his only anwser.
Below, the fight was taking its toll on Indy. Von Trakken had managed to grab hold of his belt and hoisted himself
up farther. The German sneered at him in triumph.
Suddenly, the world turned upside down. Instead of dangling, they were falling. Both slammed into the wing of
the plane with a murderous impact. Indy felt the breath leave his body. Luckily, Von Trakken had been between
him and the wing.
Hands grabbed Indy, pulling him. He was too dazed to resist. A female voice shouted: "Get him in, I don't have
enough leverage to keep this angle very much longer!"
Jones was dimly aware of being dragged into the plane's back seat, but where was the German?
Von Trakken, like Jones, was stunned by the plane's sudden corkscrew climb and had slammed into the wing.
While Jones was rescued by Howard, he ,however, had slid down the wing, becoming entangled in the whip. Now, it was very painfully wrapped around his right leg and from there, he dangled. Only one thing made this situation bearable... the knowlage that, though Jones had the scroll, they would all be dead soon, and the hated Americaners would also not have the secret.
Dearborn was woozy... her tapping of the power always left her weak afterwards. She tried to concentrate on the
stick and flying. She hadn't flown in such a long time. Was there something she was forgetting? The engine skipped... caught ..then skipped again. Fuel guage ..where was the fuel guage? There it was.
Damn, Damn ,Damn!
She banked the plane to get a better view of the horizon. Was that land off to the left? She gently rolled the
plane in that direction. More skipping from the engine.
"Come on..Come on..." she whispered as the dark horizon grew closer. It was land.
She banked again to head for what she hoped would be a smooth landing anywhere but the ocean. Suddenly, she wasn't alone in the cockpit. He grabbed her hair and gave a savage yank, almost throwing her from the plane. Damn, this German was going to kill them all! She vaulted back into the small cockpit, slamming his
shoulder into the side wall. Even though her arm throbbed, she managed to slam it into him, sending his head into
the instrument panel.
Suddenly, a hand shot out and grabbed her throat. She couldn't get a breath. She vainly tried to pull the hand
away. He smiled as he squeezed the life from her. She tried an uppercut to no effect. She was too weak.
The crash caught her as much by surprise as it did Von Trakken. His eyes rolled back and he slumped in the
pilot seat. Howard stood behind in the back seat, holding what appeared to be a small circular metal object. She
knew immediatly what it was. Von Trakken had just been clobbered by one of the metal breast covers from the armor of the Goddess .
They were coming in low now... low and fast. The water was slipping by under them. She fought to keep the
stalling plane airborne. Islands and low swampy land , then villages...She steered to the middle of the wide
river. Keeping steady was murder on her arm. Around the next bend, she would set down.
"Brace Your Selves!" she shouted to the two men. Around the next bend, there were fishing boats everywhere. "AGGGGG!" she screamed as she pulled the stick back, just missing the boats scattered across the river. Tears sprang from her eyes as the arm finally gave up. The plane did a crazy corkscrew up ahd then began to drop nose first.
The impact was cushioned by the final glide path she was just able to put them in. The plane ripped through the
armada of boats which by some divine providence managed to get out of the way in time. A tremendous crash and water hitting her like a ton of bricks...
Then everything went dark.......
(DF>)
The light in front of Dearborne was blinding. She forced her eyelids to remain slit open and adjust. While they
did so, she took a quick inventory with her other senses. She was sore all over. Her head throbbed, but it was on
something soft... she was in bed. And that light... was coming from the open window in her room. Standing in
front of it, with his back to her, was Indiana Jones, dressed in his leather coat and fedora. He leaned heavily on a
cane and one of the jacket sleeves had nothing in it. In the chair next to her bed, Howard snoozed like a dead
man with his chin pinning some leatherbound book to his chest.
Dearborne said nothing; alerted neither man that she was awake. She ran back through the harrowing adventure
and the terrific crash they'd all apparently survived. Of course, Von Traken had been in the plane with them.
"Where is it?" she asked reflexively.
Jones didn't even turn around. Like he knew, somehow, that she was awake. "It's safe," he said in a low voice,
trying not to wake Howard.
"Where?" she asked.
Now, Indy DID turn around. His face was swollen and purple in most places. His right arm was in a sling.
Trust me," he said. "The less you know right now, the better."
The door to the hospital room burst open just then and two smartly dressed U.S. Army officials walked in. They
looked immediately to Dearborne.
"Do you have it?" the Colonel of the pair asked.
"I'm fine, thanks," the lady replied. "Glad to be alive."
"Where is the artifact?" asked the Major.
"Artifact?" she asked.
"We know what you found," the Colonel said. "We found the breast plate and several other pieces of the
Atlantean armor. We want to know WHY it was so important for you three to risk dragging us into ANOTHER war with Germany over a suit of friggin' armor and we want the rest of it!"
"Why don't you ask Von Traken," Dearborne said calmly. "He's the one who tried to kill us for it. We were just
on a dig." She glanced to Indy to see if her story was holding. Obviously, they had gotten nothing from him. She
was met with an approving lop-sided smile.
The military men looked back from Indy to Dearborne. Howard, miraculously, continued to sleep. "Von Traken is
dead," the Major said. "He died in the crash from massive head trauma. So, we know he doesn't have it... or
know where it is." Another long moment of silence passed before the Colonel led the Major out of the room.
"Touchy," Dearborne said. "You don't really still have it, do you?"
"Oh, yes," Indy said. "It was still in my pocket when they gave me that uniform back as a trophy. I saved it 'cause... well, I thought you'd want to..."
"I certainly do."
Indy handed her his zippo and her bedpan. He quickly produced the scroll and Dearborne set fire to it. They
watched it blacken the pan.
"This would have been just as easy on the zeppelin," Indy said with a smile.
Dearborne sighed and smiled back. She hadn't hurt like this in a long time. Indy couldn't feel much better, but the
look on his face was far more peaceful than it should have been. He was kind of staring at her... like he was
daydreaming. "You look like hell," she said to snap him out of it.
Indy's face dropped and reformed into a mischeivious sneer. "Just be glad I had 'em take all the mirrors out of
here, Gorgeous." He put the ashy bedpan down on the floor.
Dearborne chuckled. She could feel every aching square inch on her body. She had to look as bad or worse than
he did. Howard, however, didn't have a scratch on him.
"Thrown out as soon as we hit," Indy explained, seeing her quizzical look. "He's got a few bruises from when we
got tied up, but he goofed up and got through the whole thing just fine."
"Good. Then he can drive us back to Texas... where are we?"
"Still in Africa. Those boats you almost mowed down were American military. They intercepted a German
transmission about the city appearing and the temple. They were 'investigating.' They were waiting on backup to
handle the zeppelins."
Dearborne choked out a chuckle.
"They've been collecting the wreckage for three days. They found my clothes in a duffel bag where I'd stashed
them..." Indy stopped. That look again... Dearborne didn't feel like sassing it away a second time. She let him
look. His eyes were steel points that suddenly went beyond assesing her (sans injuries)... there was a question
there. One that he REALLY wanted answered.
"So tell me, Doctor," Indy began in an ominous tone. Dearborne cocked a sore eyebrow. "How does a Goddess
born before recorded history live long enough to fight Nazis and take a beating like that?"
"Oh, that's such a long story," Dearborne said with a pleasant smile and an exaggerated roll of her eyes.
"I've got the rest of my life," Indy said with a rascally smirk. Dearborne squinted at him. He wasn't serious... was
he? It didn't matter. His lifetime was a blip on her own. If she was who he thought she was, he'd know that. No,
he couldn't be serious.
"It won't take quite that long," she said.
"How about telling me over some German lessons?" he asked.
Dearborne laughed. This guy didn't miss any possible chance, did he? "Why, Doctor Jones, if I didn't know
better, I'd think you'd forgotten about Casablanca."
It was Indy's turn to raise a sore eyebrow. "How could I FORGET about Casablanca? Keeping my mind off it was the problem."
Was he getting... closer? He was, and Dearborne had already ceased to care about her sore lips- heck, his were probably sore, too.
"Well, then, before these German lessons start, we both have a lot of healing to do, don't we?" He was just
above her now, lost in those emerald eyes, gauging her resistance to the idea of kissing him. She held his
serious gaze steady and with the regal grace of a swan, she reached up with her burned arm (now wrapped in
gauze) and gently pulled him down to her for a tender, soft kiss that was, in every way, divine.
