Date:         Sun, 10 Nov 1996 18:01:37 +0000
From: Christopher Vaughan <space.cowboy@WORLDNET.ATT.NET>
Subject:      INT: Lancomb's Adventure

Reserved:
        Lancomb
        Aderyn
        Sanchez
        Mr. Norman
        Tony Madsen
Raini Maddens:
        Lyriss
        Mathen

        "So, why do we need a truck, any way?"  Mathen walked-jogged
to keep up with the tall, lanky Spaniard.
        "Eet does not do for a dragon to travel out een thee open.  We
weell use the truck to geet to the coast.  From there Lancomb weell
try to fly us to the island."
        "Why not just fly us there all the way?"
        Sanchez didn't answer.  He kept walking in silence.  They had
already covered several miles, and were coming up to the outskirts of
Russell.  They paused at railroad tracks just south of town and looked
around.  The streets were fairly bustling with Kansans.
        "So, tell me, keed, where are your parents?"
        Mathen looked down the tracks as if he expected to see
something in infinity down the line.  "I don't know my parents.
Lyriss remembers our mother..."
        "I see," Sanchez said, quietly.  Then, changing the subject he
pointed t o a fenced in parking lot.  It was filled with large,
panelled trucks and van-bodies.  "There," he said.  "I 'ave rented
from them, before.  They will accept the gold and weell not ask a lot
of questions."
        A moment later they entered a small, brick building with a
large, plate-glass window and a broken-down, wooden bench along the
inside sill.  A counter was at the back of the store, and a young man
with long, brown hair and pimple-cream blotches on his face stood
behind the counter.  He was reading a Playboy magazine and lingering
long over the pages.
        "'Ello, Tony, 'ow are you?"
        The man looked up and grinned with uneven teeth.
"Mr. Sanchez," the boy said in a breaking voice.  "I haven't seen you
in a while.  You need a truck?"
        "Si.  But I need a beeger truck then usual."
        "Oh?  Well, we have a three-quarter ton van in."
        "No, no.  I need sometheeng really beeg.  What ees the beegest
truck you  'ave?"
        The man looked at Mathen as though noticing him for the first
time, then he shrugged.  "We have a 32 foot panel truck."
        "32 feet?  That ees a leetle over 10 yards, yes?  'Ow wide ees
eet?"
        "Hummm...  Six feet, wall-to-wall."
        "No, thet weell not do.  I need one at least 14 yards long and
three yar ds wide."
        "Well, the only thing that could be that size would be a rig.
I'll make some calls and see if I can swing it for you.  I'll be right
back."
        The boy disappeared into a back room, leaving Mathen and
Sanchez alone i n the room.  They looked at each other, awkwardly.
Then, Mathen walked over and sat on the bench.
        "You sure it wouldn't be easier just to fly there?"
        Sanchez turned away.  The Playboy magazine lay on the counter
where the clerk had left it.  He picked it up and began leafing
through the pages.  "Eet never fails to amaze me, how leetle women are
weelling to wear in these pictures."
        Mathen looked out the window.  Just then the door opened and
an attracti ve woman walked in.  She was tall, with her long, blond
hair pulled back into a pony-tail.  She looked at Sanchez and smiled,
then, when she saw what he was reading she frowned and looked over at
Mathen.
        "Waiting long?"
        "No, ma'am," Mathen said.  "The salesman just went into the
back to chec k on something for us."
        "Ah."  She smiled, her blue eyes twinkling in the sunlight
streaming through the window.  "Mind if I sit down, uh -"
        "Mathen, ma'am.  I'm Mathen."  He looked over at Sanchez.
"And this is.  .."
        Sanchez stepped forward after dropping the magazine on the
counter.  He bowed, removing his sombrero in a smooth, galant motion.
"I am Juan de la Hoya Jesus de Sanches, madam.  My freends call me
'Sanchez', but you may call me 'Juan'."
        The woman looked at him and her cheeks quivered.  Then she
burst out laughing, hysterically.
        Sanchez straightened, still holding his hat and looking at
her, puzzled.  "I said sometheeng funny?"
        She laughed even harder.  Just then the clerk emerged from the
back room and saw her.  "Oh, Ms. Hardy.  How are you, ma'am?"
        "Fine," she said through her laughter.  She tossed a set of
keys onto th e counter.  "Here.  Thanks for the rental."  She looked
back at Sanches.  "See ya," she said, wiggling her hips, "'Juan.'"
Then she walked out, still laughing, hysterically.
        "I theenk she was mocking me," he said.
        "You don't get out, much, do you," Mathen said.
        "Eh?"
        "Let me give you some advice."
        Sanchez put his sombrero on and frowned at Mathen.  "What are
you, 'Ann Landers?'  Come on."
        They walked over to the counter.
        "I found a truck for you.  You can rent it, but it'll cost you
over $500.00/day.  How long will you need it?"
        "I do not know," Sanchez said.  "I weell leave thees as a
security depos it, though."  He handed the clerk a handful of golden
scales.  "I trust eet weell be adequate."
        The clerk turned the gold over in his hands.  "Wow.  There
must be twelv e ounces, here."
        "Si.  And eet ees pure, as usual."
        "Incredible."  The clerk wrote up a contract and Sanchez
signed it.  The n they left to wait accross the street at the diner
while the truck was brought up from one of the other stores.

        A few hours after dark, they pulled up to the barn in the rig.
The barn doors were open and Lancomb wasn't inside.
        "Where ees he?"  Sanchez climbed down and looked around,
nervously.
        "Over here," Lancomb called.  His voice was raspy.  As they
walked aroun d the side of the barn they heard Lancomb coughing.
Puffs of billowing flames rose into the air with each hack.
        As they rounded the corner, Mathen slapped his forehead and
closed his eyes.  "I don't believe it.  You're a pig!"
        Lancomb looked away as he tried to catch his breath.  The
dragon was hug e, over sixty feet long, tip-to-tip.  But he was also
wide.  Even standing, his stomach nearly reached the ground, and his
wings looked woefully inadequate in comparison.
        "You try living in a cave for two hundred years, and a barn
for another thirty years after that.  See what kind of shape you're
in."
        "No wonder we needed the truck.  You'll never be able to fly
us to that island."
        "I'll work out."
        "Eet weell be okay.  You weell see," Sanchez said.
        The boy threw his hands into the air.  "I don't believe this.
What a wa ste of time."  He looked around.  "Where's Lyriss?  We're
gonna get out of here, now."
        "Jeest a meenute," Sanchez said.  "You are not beeing fair.
Lancomb wee ll be fine by the time we reach the coast.  Even eef he
eesn't ready, yet, we can always rent an airplane."
        "What airplane is big enough to carry his fat carcass?" Mathen
stalked away, angrily.
        "What's going on out here?"
        Mathen turned at Lyriss' voice.  She stood at the side of the
barn and looked at them.
        "Look at him.  He's fatter than Rush Limbaugh."
        Lyriss looked at Lancomb, who looked away in shame.  She
smiled and walk ed over to him.  "He's beautiful."
        Lancomb turned back to her and looked down in astonishment.
"I am?"
        "You are."
        "Gag," Mathen said.

        Tony had watched Sanchez and Mathen drive off in the truck.
As soon as they disappeared down the highway he dialed the number
Mr. Norman had given him.
        "Hello?"  Mr. Norman's voice was a harsh rasp.
        "Mr. Norman?  This is Tony Madsen.  I thought you'd like to
know, they'r e getting ready to move..."
_____________________________ 
Chris Vaughan
space.cowboy@worldnet.att.net