Posted by Aaron from usr1-modem033.runestone.net on May 13, 1998 at 16:36:11:
Hey everyone! I've written Chapter 4 of the Forum Novel! Also, I added all the chapters that have been written so far.
So, without further ado, here it is!
The Indyfan Forum Novel
Mountain Top 1940.
The mountain top explodes with lava. Indiana Jones stepped back from the model of his most
recent dig and asked his students,
"What did we learn from this experience?"
"Don't get too close to an erupting volcano?" chirped one of girls at the back of the room.
The room stifled fits of laughter as the Indiana Jones reached up and touched the rather
ridiculous bandage around his head.
"OK, OK, so maybe I did get a bit too curious", he grinned. "But don't you think it's
fascinating? The Aztecs believed that this eruption was a symbol of God's Anger. They would
attempt to regain their favour with numerous forms of human sacrifice. Including cutting the
hearts out from willing men and women, or by hurling human or animal sarifices into the
quench the wrath of their sun god, Uitzilopochtli."
"I can't understand how they could have done that!" whispered one of the students, visibly
Indy paused for a moment, recalling his own vivid experience with human sacrifice, and
If only they knew of the horrors that people still committed in the far corners of this earth.
Although, if there was one person who had deserved to be sacrificed, it was Willie. When
eventually reached Delhi that time, he almost wished he'd let her roast! Pity they'd lost
though. He'd have to go check out her new show in New York sometime....
"Dr Jones?", one asked impatiently. "So, are you going to go back there?"
Indy's attention quickly returned to the subject.
"I hope so, except we need funding for the excavation, and since my....falling out with our
sponsor, Mr Donovan, it looks like I could be waiting a long time." Indy said sadly.
"Well, if you do, give Utilo-whatshisname our regards!"
At that moment, the class bell rang it's familiar shrill tone, and almost immediately the class
began to file
out of the room.
'Students', thought Indy, 'they always had someplace to get to.'
Except this time, he was not left alone completely. Drake Hawthorne stood waiting by the
Drake was one of the few in his class who did in actual fact, take notice of his lectures. He
was a strong
boy of eighteen, and would consistently speak out knowledgebly in class. His essays he
submitted were always
thoroughly researched, with plenty of orginal thought. In fact, Indy considered, he was
"Dr Jones, could I have a minute?", he asked.
"Sure Drake, what's on your mind?" Indy studied the boy, he was obviously deeply concerned
"I have a problem. It's my father, you know who he is don't you?"
Of Course Indy knew of him. He was one of the most prestigious historians in the country,
writings had revolutionized theories on several cultures, and Indy had always suspected that
Drake's background had
always been the main reason behind his study in archaeology. Indy could relate to that. His
own father had always
pushed him into studying languages.
"Sure Drake, but if this is about your final grade for that piece on Celtic legend, don't worry,
you did great."
"NO, IT'S NOT ABOUT NO ESSAY!" Drake exclaimed. "He's....he's dead."
Now this was a bit more than Indy had bargained for. A desperate plea to up a grade, sure,
or a sly request to see
the new exam paper maybe, but this?
"How did it happen?" asked Indy calmly.
"He was shot Dr Jones. I'd rather not talk about it here, but he left a letter which I think you
should take a look at.
The police said to turn over anything that might be of assistance in the investigation, but I
believe this is quite possibly
the reason why he was killed. I returned home two days ago to find our home ransacked, and
his body tied to a chair in the
study. He'd been tortured, Doctor Jones, but I had no clue as to why. My father is only an
historian! That is, until I
checked behind one of the books in the library. He keeps old love letters from my mother
there. And I discovered this."
Drake withdrew a small brown envelope from his pocket, and handed it to Indy. The first
thing he noticed was the post mark,
"I read it before I brought it here," said Drake. "It is not a love letter." Indy opened it and
began to read. It said: "DR. HAWTHORNE,
I AM IN GREAT NEED OF YOUR RESEARCH. IT IS VERY IMPORTANT IT DOES NOT
FALL INTO THE HANDS OF THE DARK DESTROYERS. I AM VERY CLOSE TO
DISCOVERING THE DRAGON OF THE SUN."
"Interesting," Indy said with amazment. "Which book did you find it behind?"
"The History of Ancient Brazil," Drake replied.
"I suggest we go to your house immediately."
At once Drake headed for the door.
"Why so fast?"
"I want to find out more about my father's death," replied Drake.
Indy and Drake headed down the hall to the main exit doors.
"We'll take my car," Indy said. 'Wonder what the reasearch is,' thought Indy.
Indy drove up to the door of Drake's house. He walked in and immediately headed for the
library. He took the book: "The History of Ancient Brazil" off the shelf.
"Why are you looking at that?" Drake asked inquisitively.
"The research!" Indy replied looking at marked pages. On one page painted was a gold
Indy let out a long whistle.
"What?" asked Drake, impatient.
"It's the Dragon of the Sun."
"And...?" Drake asked, growing even more impatient.
"And it's worth a fortune, kid. And most likely pretty important to someone."
"Could this have been the reason my father was killed?"
"It's a good bet. The only thing I don't understand is this:" he unfolded the message. "It says
here 'the Dark Destroyers'. Now, I've seen some crazy cults before..." and briefly, he found
himself thinking about Willie and Sri Lanka for the second time in one day, "and plenty of
religious fanatics, and all sorts of killers and cannibals, but I've never even HEARD of 'the
"You mean they don't exist?" Drake asked, perplexed.
"No. I just mean that if they do, they've managed to keep themselves hidden. And if they've
done that, that means they're very, very, good. Which means that your father, and that
mysterious message-sender, may have gotten in way over their heads."
"Well we've got to do something-they killed my dad!"
"Look, kid. We're no police, and we're certainly not some sort of vigilante group. This isn't
our business." Indy began to put the book back. When he had first come to Drake's house, he
had been excited--the Dragon of the Sun would probably be enough to double the Museum of
Natural History's yearly income. And if Indy could get it for them, it would nearly triple his.
Marcus Brody, his friend at the Museum, and Curator of Natural Artifacts, would be most
pleased with a find like the Dragon of the Sun. But Indy, as he was trying to talk sense into
Drake, had also been trying to talk sense into himself. Because he was right--it wasn't any of
their business. And he certainly didn't want to get himself killed. Or worse yet, tortured and
then killed. So he had decide to forget the whole thing.
"But they killed my dad!" It looked as if Drake was beginning to lose his handle on reality.
"We've got to do SOMETHING...anything!"
As he turned around to calm Drake, he looked at the interior of the house for the first time.
Drake had already managed to pick up some of the ransacked objects, but he had lived alone
with his father, so he hadn't nearly finished picking up yet. And there, on the carpet beneath
Indy's feet, were several blood stains. And briefly, Indy was filled with rage, and a sudden
determination. He cursed himself silently for what he was about to do, for always needing to
do the right thing, no matter how unethical. But then again--even though seeking revenge for
a man's death wasn't his business...archaeology was.
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 “proffessors’ garb”, and traded it in for his comfortable leather jacket, beige shirt, and work slacks. Attop his head sat the 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 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 bullwip--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 tinny 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 backroad runway?”
“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 nametag on his mechanics’ uniform identified him as “Clarence”, replacing its original lable, “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 when his students called him by his first name in class.
“Hallo, Drake,” said Clarence, waving to him. In reply, Drake simply regarded Clarence the same way he had his office. “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...”
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 we’re already roaring, and they 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...”
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