"King me!" George Jacob Dawson - Big Jake to his friends - leaned back from the checkerboard and grinned in ferocious glee. His hulking opponent studied the positioning carefully before throwing his hat down in disgust. "Aw, panther poop!" "Scooter, you got to learn to handle losin' wit more grace den that. Checkers is da sport o' kings. Y'all don't see da Queen of England cursin' like dat when she gets smoked, do you?" "No, but she don't have to listen to you crow like a rooster about it for the next six days." "Hey, you wanna start playin' more'n one game a week, that's fine by me. Meantime, cough me up one a dem red jewels so's I can keep whoopin' yer behind." Scooter glowered menacingly at his companion before producing the aforementioned checker and crowning his partner's piece. The two men were comfortably settled in the stacks of barrels and packing crates that made up the Gomorra town docks, and were liable to stay there for quite awhile. Situated at the foot of a great mesa in the midst of the California Maze, the docks rarely saw much activity this early in the week. A pair of Maze runners floated lost amid the dozen piers and jetties that poked out into the waterway. Three rickety warehouses - built right upon the side of the cliff - flanked a strange contraption of ropes and pulleys that stretched all the way up to the mesa top. In the midst of these surroundings, the gigantic Scooter and his diminutive companion seemed utterly at home. Their mutual concentration was interrupted by the distant sounds of a boat approaching. The thick plume of smoke and the labored rumblings of the engine suggested that it was coming in fast. "Whoops. Company's comin'" Big Jake hopped off the packing crate he had been using for a seat and gazed out into the Maze. "Better get yer fishin' gear on." "Right." The game forgotten, Scooter leapt to his feet, producing a huge buffalo rifle as he did so. The weapon looked big enough to be mounted on a tripod, but Scooter hefted it with the ease of a child's air gun. A large telescopic sight, the product of some mad scientist's ravings, was mounted on the barrel. The disturbance grew louder, now accompanied by the unmistakable roar of a maze dragon. Scooter trotted out to the edged of the docks while feeding a handful of enormous shells into his gun. Moments later, a ship appeared in one of the narrow lanes that composed the great Maze. It looked like a steam freighter, smaller than most, but fast and maneuverable as all boats needed to be in these waters. Its ghost rock engine belched great clouds of smoke into the sky, suggesting that its pilot had it running at full steam. The reason why soon became apparent. The little craft executed a tight turn around a bend of rocks, just as a giant fanged maw rose up from behind it. The maze dragon wasn't the biggest that Scooter had seen, but it seemed to be making up for it in enthusiasm. It snaked its neck high into the air, and roared a shockwave that rumbled through the entire canyon. The craft continued speeding towards the docks, but now had little room to maneuver. The dragon centered its beady eyes on its prey and reared back, preparing to strike. A huge explosion rattled the docks as Scooter's weapon discharged. He saw the shell strike the dragon dead in the eye, sending a great spray of black blood shooting into the air. Its roar cut off abruptly, replaced by a choking sigh and a great crash as it fell backwards into the water. The craft it had been chasing, rocked back and forth in the creature's backwash, but remained afloat. "Nice shootin, Scoot." "Thanks." The big man ejected his spent casing. "Next time, I'll sink the boat and we can call it even." The little boat continued on its breakneck pace until it approached the dock, slowing down just enough to coast serenely to a halt. Big Jake trotted up to secure the mooring lines, then suddenly stopped short. "Sweet Mary and Joseph, what is that stench?" "Money" The boat's occupant popped his head out of the pilothouse. "The sickly sweet odor of pure profit." Jake squinted up, his nostrils still trying to wrap themselves around the amazing stink that rose from the hold. The speaker seemed unaffected by the smell. He was a short man, though a bit taller than Jake, and dressed in a comic conglomeration of sailor's gear and gentleman's attire. Hip- waders and a striped undershirt competed with a tattered top hat and formal coat complete with tails. An empty cigarette holder offset the scruffy beard and yellowing teeth, while the speech emitting from his mouth was pure Harvard. "My thanks to you, gentlemen, for your timely assistance. I've never seen so many maze dragons as on my journey here." He leapt down upon the deck, and warmly shook Big Jake's hand. "Nicholas P. Cumberson esquire. Captain of the Pacific Mermaid, at your service, sir" Jake looked back at him incredulously. "Whachoo got in dere? Seafood?" "A form of ambergris, my dear man. Harvested from the rolling waves of the calm Pacific. The excretion of certain aquatic creatures has a high market value among the finer salons and perfume dealers of the Eastern Seaboard. It is my humble duty to procure such elements, that the good ladies of Boston and New York remain as attractive as they have always been." "Smells like randy tuna." Scooter's nose wrinkled as he approached. "They got women back East wanna spawn with fish?" "It's fashion, you pugnacious fellow. Attractiveness transcends the barriers between man and animal smiting all those with a bent towards the romantic." "I don't see nothin' romantic about a buncha fish thrashin' around like..." "How long ye stayin' in our fair town, sir?" Big Jake interrupted his partner. "Just a few hours to wash the dirt off, then I'm on my way again. I've heard such marvelous things about your little miner's camp here, I just couldn't resist." "Um... okay," Jake agreed lamely, unsure how to respond to genuine praise. "Dockin' fee's two bits, and Scooter'll take you up in da lift winch." He gestured at the contraption behind them. "Lift winch. How droll!" He began marching broadly towards the cliff face. The two dockworkers trailed like awkward bridesmaids. "Um... you said you had trouble with maze dragons comin' in?" "Oh yes, dozens of them! They couldn't seem to stay away. My harpoon gun convinced most of them to find easier prey elsewhere, but it was unfortunately devoured earlier this morning. Along with its operator, a 'Sinky' somebody or other whose company I never did appreciate." He stepped into the lift winch's swinging basket and secured himself as Scooter began prepping the device's endless array of pulleys. Big Jake remained incredulous. "Say, that maze dragon wasn't after your cargo, now was he?" The man laughed. "Of course not, dear boy. They'll prey on anything their tiny brains perceive as prey. I'm sure the olfacular aroma arising from my cargo hold was merely incidental." "But you said..." "Trick of the wind my boy, I swear. Those brutes can no more smell my cargo than they could elect themselves president." He leaned over and tipped his hat to them, ignoring their incredulous glares. "Keep a good eye on it, fellows, and there will be an extra quarter in it for you." "Yeah, swell," Scooter muttered, beginning to crank the wheel's great handle. The rickety carrier began to rise, and had soon vanished up the side of the cliff, its occupant speeding towards the questionable enticements of Gomorra. The big man grunted amicably as he continued to turn the big wheel grinding out sweat and motion in equal amounts. Finally, the carrier stopped and they could see their customer disembarking high above. Scooter trundled back to the dock and took a seat next to his friend. The two stared at the Pacific Mermaid in silence for several minutes; the stench rose from it in nearly palpable waves. Somewhere, far off, they heard the roar of an abomination in the Maze. "Man, dat stuff stinks," Big Jake finally commented. An uncomfortable pause. "You think dere's more maze dragons out dere?" "Yeah." Another pause. Jake looked pointedly at his partner. "Wanna dump his cargo?" "Yeah." In a flash, the two were moving towards the waiting boat. The cargo bay proved remarkably easy to open, although their sinuses paid a terrible price for it. Big Jake collapsed on the floor, tears in his eyes while Scooter began to lift the huge ambergris-filled barrels out of their storage space. The stench seemed to come from everywhere. Shaking his head, Jake struggled up to the first barrel and lifted it over the side. It splashed in the foamy water, then bobbed up like a cork. It was swiftly seized the current and carried off some hundred yards to rest by a shoal of rocks The worked in silence for several minutes. Scooter tossed the barrels up with childish ease while his partner wrestled with nausea while lifting them over the side. Soon, they had a cheerful little row flowing away from the docks, the odor wafting up in the noon day sun. Another roar sounded from the Maze. Big Jake forgot about the smell for a moment. Um... listen Scoot. Why don't you let me take care o' de heavy liftin'. I can get dese puppies in de water without any help." "Aw, I can handle it. We're doin' fine as a team." "Yeah, but we do better as a team when you're shootin' the nasty critter comin' at us." Scooter's head shot out of the hatch. The unndstakable hump of maze dragon hide emerged some fifty yards distant. In a flash, the big man had unslung his rifle and aimed it along the cliff side. A pair of quick shots into the beast's side brought it charging to the surface, where a flurry of shells dropped it beneath the waves again. A second roar came on the heels of the first followed by several more further out. The floating row of barrels became a pack, then a stampede as Jake pushed them over the side with panicked abandon. The flotilla gathered at the rocks parted for the maw of a sleek-looking abomination, all green fins and glistening teeth. Another round of shots from Scooter's gun convinced it to hunt elsewhere. By the time fifth one came, all pretense of subtly was gone. Jake was hurling barrels out of the cargo hold with no thought as to where or how they landed. A few mistimed throws crashed into each other upon delivery, filling the nearby sea with sticky grey mess. But his recklessness was paying off: the space in the hold grew larger and larger with a speed few could match. With Scooter holding down the fort, they might actually succeed in their tale. The howl of another maze dragon rose, this one alarmingly close. "Jake..." the big man admonished. "Hold on, Scooter, just gotta couple more." "JAKE..." "Two minutes, an' we'll have da whole dock cleared..." "JAKE, I'M OUTTA AMMO!!!" "Great horny toads!" Big Jake yelped, (dropping the last barrel to his feet). He had all of three seconds to back away before it - and the area of the hull behind it - exploded a cloud of splinters. The dragon's hoary maw dripped seaweed and ambergris as it gulped down the last remaining piece of Nicholas P. Cumberson's cargo. Big Jake screamed, which he felt was perfectly appropriate given the circumstances. His squeals were interrupted by a meaty paw which wrapped around his shoulder and quickly jerked him out of harm's way. Scooter stepped up towards the face of the beast, brandishing an absolutely monstrous knife in his left hand. "Knife" was actually too small a word; it could pass for a cavalry sabre in certain countries. As the dragon opened its gaping maw, Scooter wedged himself between it and the hull and slammed it into the creature's lower jaw, pinning it to the deck. It howled in pain and tried to twist loose, as bloody flecks of spittle flew in all direction. Scooter grunted and jammed the knife in harder. "Jake... a little help here..." In a flash, the shorter man reached into the recesses of his coat, and produced a sawed-off shotgun. Aiming it at the lizard's snout, he released both barrels, which caught the beast full in the jaw. It jerked backward with a yelp and crashed down in the water behind them. A few bloody bubbles rose and the terrible sound of what could have been a death rattle. In any case, the beast did not rise again. Big Jake and Scooter sat there, wide-eyed, for a few moments longer. The last barrels floated off to join their companions, adding to the colony that had gathered by the rock shoal. With a twist of the wheel the winch-bucket lowered again, down from Gomorra to the seaside junk pile it called a port. Even at this distance, Jake could make out the top hat planted on its occupant's head. "How do you think he's gonna take it?" he asked conversationally. "We could just kill him and save ourselves the headache." "Yeah. Hold dat thought." He grinned evilly as the lift winch slowly closed the arduous distance between them. "Evenin' Mr. Cumberson. How were da sordid delight of our fair town?" "Sufficient my boy, sufficient." The man had recently shaved, and his clothes looked like they had received a much needed washing. A lit cigarette stood in his holder, which he cocked jauntily in his mouth. "Though I must confess a trifle jubilant for my tastes. But no matter. I trust your tenure down here in my absence was uneven"... GAH!!!" The Pacific Mermaid was a disaster area. Slathered in gore and the slime-encrusted remains of its cargo, it tilted to one side like a drunken lampost. A large chunk had been bitten out of its side, a deficiency which had apparently been corrected by nailing a few loose boards in place. Behind it, the precious cargo from its hold bobbed slowly up and down in the gentle tide. "What did you maniacs do?!" he sputtered. "Yeah, well, we've been wantin'to talk to you 'bout dat. Seems da local critters took a likin' to yer cargo dere, and we had to get rid of it before dey ate da whole dock." "You dumped it all?! My entire cargo!?!" "'Cept fer the stuff the maze dragons ate." Scooter chimed in. "We been tryin' keep them off it fer the couple of hours, but it ain't been easy what with the repairs and all." "My fortune... my wonderful ambergris... it's gone. Gone!" "Now I wouldn't call it gone, Mr. Cumberson," Big Jake consoled easily. "You just gotta go out there and git it again, just like ya done before" I'll sue!!" he turned on them in a sudden fury. "I'll have your miserable hides brought up on charges!!! I'll take your wretched carcasses to the highest court in the land!!" His hands quivered with rage as he spat all manner of epithets at the two dockworkers. It took several more minutes of swearing (and some unique speculations on their ancestry) before he calmed himself enough to stop. He stood there, panting and blowing like a race horse. His ears had flared pink and his recently- shaven cheeks puffed in and out like a blowfish. Big Jake looked up at him without blinking. "So do we still get the tip' he asked. "Get away from me, you horrid little man, before I beat you to death right here!" Jake shrugged and stepped away from the dock, allowing Nicholas P. Cumberson esquire to proceed. The ragged captain stomped furiously towards his boat, casting withering glances back at the dockworkers. "You'd better pray I can salvage my cargo!" He fired up the engines in a great fury before jerking the tiller around and slowly backing away from the pier. Big Jake and Scooter watched him go. "This that 'losing gracefully' thing you were talk'en about?" The big man asked. "Something like that, yeah." The boat chugged determinedly out to where the ambergris barrels still floated on the waves. It pulled up alongside a large collection, more or less intact, and the disgruntled pilot begin to fish them out one by one with a boating hook. "Well that could have gone worse," Scooter mused. "Yeah. But how long you figure before that crazy bastard -" It came so quickly they didn't have time to think. A pair of colossal tentacles - each thicker than the trunk of a redwood rose silently on either side of the Mermaid. The pilot looked up with a yelp as they wrapped themselves around his craft and tugged... once. The ship promptly vanished below the surface in the blink of an eye, leaving nothing but churning foam in its wake. Big Jake looked wide-eyed at his partner. "Did you see that?" "I didn't see that." The smaller man considered for a minute. "Yeah, me neither." Without another word, the two turned away from the dock. Behind them, a few boards and pieces of spar floated lazily to the surface. Back to The Tombstone Epitath Issue 1 Table of Contents Back to The Tombstone Epitath List of Issues Back to MagWeb Master Magazine List © Copyright 1997 by Alderac Entertainment Group This article appears in MagWeb (Magazine Web) on the Internet World Wide Web. Other military history articles and gaming articles are available at http://www.magweb.com