Indiana Jones and the Golden Death Chapter 2: Friends in Low Places

El Paso, Texas

Indy and Drake got off the steaming hot bus on an unusually warm day--even for El Paso.

"So you think we'll be able to get a plane to Brazil from here?" Drake asked.

"That's right," replied Indy. "I've got an old friend out here who's used to this sort of thing--making unscheduled flights on short notice, I mean." Indy had shed his "professors' garb", and traded it in for his comfortable leather jacket, beige shirt, and work slacks. Atop his head sat his ever-present fedora, who's scrapes and dents told of a hundred adventures. At his side hung a leather satchel, containing 4 important items: the mysterious message sent for Dr. Hawthorne, a picture of Dr. Hawthorne, extensive research papers on the Dragon of the Sun (which Indy had acquired from the University), and Indy's six-shot Webley revolver. And lastly, attached to his climber's belt was a long, powerful bullwhip--Indy's favorite "tool".

It was a short walk to the small airfield outside of El Paso were Indy's friend and sometime business partner worked, but on such a hot day, it seamed like a ten mile journey. When the pair arrived, the tiny airplane hangar and runway was such a contrast to what Drake had been expecting, he couldn't help but moan.

"This is it? This is it!?! This little back road runway and tin can hangar?"

"Trust me, kid, this is a lot more reliable than any commercial airport--I should know, I've entrusted my life to these guys several times..."

"That brings up another thing--just who the heck are 'these guys'?" asked Drake. But Indy didn't need to answer. The sign above the office door was clearly visible. It read, in red and gold lettering: "WARD BROS AIR CARGO". Scrawled underneath the lettering were the words "We don't ask questions."

Inside the office, a greasy looking man sat in a rickety old chair behind an even older desk contemplating a half-empty flask. A sewn-on name tag on his mechanics' uniform identified him as "Clarence", replacing its original label, "Bob".

"You know," he said without looking up, "this just doesn't taste as good with Prohibition over with. Sure is cheaper, though."

"Clarence, pal!" Indy said, moving forward to shake the man's hand. When he saw how filthy Clarence's hand was, he reconsidered. "Clarence, I need you to get me to Brazil."

"Well my friend, you're in luck--don't have any other customers at the time. Who's your friend?" he asked, motioning to Drake, who was looking around the messy office in disgust.

"Name's Drake Hawthorne," Indy replied. "And he's a student, not a friend." Indy didn't like his students to think of him as personal friends--it just didn't help class lectures when his students called him by his first name.

"Hallo, Drake," said Clarence, waving to him. In reply, Drake simply regarded Clarence the same way he had his office. Clarence turned to Indy. "I can get you out of here and on your way to Brazil in five days."

"Five days!?!" Indy nearly screamed. "Clarence, you lazy..." He breathed deeply. "Why five days?" he asked more calmly.

"I want to do some work on the plane. Heck, I was just in the middle of taking out the engine..."

Indy looked at the flask which was now sitting on the desk in front of Clarence. "Sure you were, Clarence."

"Well, I just thought I could use a break! In any case, I was planning on patching up the wings a little better--need I remind you that you're the reason those holes are there?"

"We'll make it to Brazil, Clarence," Indy said sternly. "Now get the engine back in. We're going today."

"Well, actually," Clarence said, half grinning, "I kinda lied when I said I had taken the engine out..."

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Minutes later, Indy and Clarence had entered the copilot's and pilot's seats, respectively. And, though with much protest, Drake had climbed into the third seat, the one for the few passengers that Clarence and his brother, Donny, sometimes had on their several trips. The triple engines were already roaring, and the plane began to taxi from the hangar.

Behind Indy and Clarence, Drake was studying a tattered map of Brazil. Suddenly, his features lit up as he noticed something. "Hey! I know this place!" he screamed over the engines.

Indy looked back. "What?"

"This group of mountains here--dad always talked about them. They're called the Dragon's Maw..."

Suddenly the plane jerked as it started picking up speed, interrupting Drake. Drake was very annoyed about this, but decided complaining would do him no good.

Indy turned back around, and thought over the whole thing. He had found the clues, and he had to piece them together, but not just yet--he had the feeling that time was of the essence. The plane lifted from the ground and flew into the air, and Indy just sat back and used the little spare time he had to relax. Clarence maybe wasn't the best pilot in the world, but he could fly neatly.

Arrias, Brazil

Clarence took the plane down on a nice field of grass that served as a runway. Indy sat up and looked about. The landscape was just the way it looked on the map. Had Drake said something about mountains?

"Drake," Indy called, "What was that jabber about the mountains?"

"Dr. Jones," answered Drake, "We are less than a mile from the group I was talking about. The name, and I am sure you will see its importance, is the Dragon's Maw.

Indy did see its importance. "The Dragon's Maw? It could be related to the Golden Dragon! But the Dark Destroyers may be here--if they even exist. If they are, we could be in for some trouble, kid."

"May I ask just exactly what kind of junk you're talking about?" inquired Clarence, more than slightly lost.

"The reason we came," answered Indy, surveying the situation. "The Dragon of the Sun, a golden dragon idol, is possibly in Brazil, but it could be protected by a group called the Dark Destroyers. That's about all we've found out so far."

"Well, you're here, so get going," said Clarence.

Indy and Drake stepped off, and Indy put money into Clarence's hand.

"Now's the hard part, kid," Indy said. "Getting a place to stay."

"That's quite alright Dr. Jones. You won't be needing one."

Indy slowly turned around to find that his pilot, and would-be friend was now leveling a pistol at his head.

"Clarence, what are you..." Indy began, incredulous.

Clarence shifted his suddenly cold stare over to Drake, ensuring that neither of them might catch him off guard.

"Jones, you are one stupid idiot, you know that? I'd just like to say that it has never been much of a pleasure flying you to all kinds of dumb destinations around the world, almost getting my hide shorn off, to save the likes of you. I mean, do you call this a tip?" Clarence chortled, as he held up the money Indy had handed him back in El Paso. " I give more than this to drunks on the street!"

Indy stood, mouth agape at the pilot in front of him. What the heck was Clarence's motive behind this? They had been friends for years, why would he turn on him now?

Clarence must have noticed the curious expression on Indy's face, for he then began to explain.

"I guess you're kind of wondering why I'm doing this to you, Jones. Well I'll tell you. I had some visitors a couple of days before you arrived, and, funnily enough, they too asked me to bring them to this exact same place. They're paying me a LOT of money, although it wasn't just for the flight, they gave me specific instructions to 'dispose' of anyone else who came requesting the same destination. Shame it had to be you, Jones. I did try to put you off, but what the heck, I'm glad you came! I'm gonna be a rich man!"

Indy sneered at his friend, "So why didn't you kill us back in Texas? And who are these people that paid you off, Clarence?"

"Wouldn't you like to know? But it ain't gonna matter to you pretty soon Indiana, old boy. 'Cause soon you and your young friend are gonna be singin' with the angels!"

Indy thought fast, and quickly looked about him. Clarence had thought this one out well. They were in an open clearing with only the plane behind them. The trees on all sides must have been at least 200 feet away. Too far to try and make a break for it. Clarence would take them down even before they got half way. He glanced over at Drake. The poor kid looked like he was about to have a heart attack!

Indy thought fast. The chances of his escape were minimal. He might get out of this, but Drake wouldn't, and it was Indy's responsibility to him that slowed them down. But soon an idea came to Indy that just might work...yet it required a little bit of luck.

Quickly, Indy pushed Drake away and yelled "GET DOWN!" Drake was shoved to the ground. A bullet fired between them. With one fluid, swift movement, Indy rolled on the ground, unlatched his whip from his belt, and balanced himself in a kneeling position. Clarence had unloaded three bullets, all of them striking harmlessly against the ground after Indy. Indy cracked his whip around Clarence's arm and gave it a violent tug, causing him to fling his gun some several feet away.

As Clarence ran for the gun, Indy met him half way and drop-kicked him in the chest. Clarence fell back, gasping for air. Indiana grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and socked him in the face. Clarence was out cold.

Drake looked at Indy in amazement. All this had been done in mere seconds! Indy began to inspect Clarence for damage. Finding that there was none, no long term anyway, he turned back to look at Drake and asked, "Do you have a lighter?"

"What!?" drake yelled astonishment.

"Do you have a lighter?" Indy calmly repeated.

"He tried to kill us!" Drake yelled back.

"I know," Indy said calmly, "but do you have a lighter?"

"Y-y-yeah," Drake said weakly, tossing Indy a packet of matches.

"Thanks," Indy said. He held up Clarence's limp arm and lit a match. Indy held the match dangerously close underneath Clarence's arm. After a few seconds, Clarence jerked upright and screamed in pain at his scorched flesh. He then realized what it was he had done.

"What was that?" Drake asked, astonished.

"An old brain-wash remedy, kid," Indy said. He turned to face Clarence. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Clarence replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I am. But I just...I mean you were...I pulled..."

"I know," Indy said, interrupting. "It's all right. You were brain-washed, and I'm willing to bet the Dark Destroyers had a hand in it. Probably something they slipped in your liquor. Let's just find out what we're supposed to do now."

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Site Author: Micah Johnson Page Author: Mola Ram, Toht, Aaron, and Mack Created: June 16, 1998 Last modified: June 17, 1998

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