It was at the top of the stairwell that the dragon finally met its kin. With the metal staircase wilting under the heat emanating from its body, the dragon made itself fast in the concrete cylinder by gouging great holes in the wall with long, curving talons. It was making ready to blast away the upper door and frame, when the door opened stiffly, already warping under waves of heat.

If there had been someone there to observe what happened, they would have remarked on the strange tilt to the dragon's head. They would have said that the beast looked surprised and perhaps it was. Standing in the doorway, basking in the furnace-like atmosphere of the stairwell were fire-blackened figures that were dimly remembered. Realisation came to it slowly since it had never really seen its tormentors of so many decades ago but it did know them all the same. It knew their voices, muffled as they had been through the metres of concrete and graphite. Most of all it knew their spirits, having sensed their presence all those years before as it lay half dead, half alive. It knew their secrets, their hidden jealousies, their concealed schemes, the gossip of the facility, the petty rivalries and false friendships. It knew who had ordered its incarceration and it knew what had happened to that man. If the dragon could have smiled, it would have. As it was it simply bared its teeth in greeting. Decades of burning torment had been the reward for Professor Hiro Mifune, when the Dragonkin had possessed him, and now they had brought him back to his experimental subject so that he could meet it face to face for one last time.

"Esteemed Mother," The charred man began in a high pitched cry, blue flame flickering around his scalp, almost unseen in the glare from the dragon, "I bring you your prey, carefully preserved for these many years. His torment has been a pleasure but now his time has come. His spirit will feed your fire, his soul will be cleansed in the scouring flame of your judgement. Esteemed Mother, feed!"

At this, a small spark of intensely blue light flashed across the space between the burnt man and the dragon, leaving his head and flashing into the dragon's eyes. Almost simultaneously, the burnt man uttered an appalling scream and sank to his knees on the red hot landing. The dragon flicked its head forward and grasped the tortured thing that had been Hiro Mifune in its dreadful teeth. Holding the screaming man gently between its teeth a shimmering orange glow grew in the back of the dragon's mouth. Uttering one last shriek, the burnt man twisted in the dragon's unyielding jaws as he sensed the build up of heat behind his head. Then, like a torrent released down a mill-race, the dragon let its fire wash over the writhing man slowly, delicately, cruelly prolonging Mifune's agony. His skin crisped even further, contracting his arms and legs into twisted parodies of their former shape, baked flesh cracking and flaking. Then with one snap, it flicked its head and swallowed the poor man whole, consigning him to the furnace within.

The next burnt man stepped forward onto the slowly deforming landing. "Esteemed Mother...." he began.

***

"How long since we last saw them? I think I lost my watch somewhere back there with Jones," said Carmen.

Charlie looked at his watch. He was amazed it was still working considering what he had been through. It seemed a humdrum thing to look at when only a few short hours ago they had been fighting a James Bond villainess in the presence of an awakening dragon. "About five hours, I think," he answered.

"How much longer can they be? Do you think they're okay? You don't think that they...that they could have been hurt by the..." It was if Carmen could not bring herself to say "dragon". How could something so fantastic actually exist?

I do think that they could be hurt. I do think that they've been shot, or eaten or burnt. I do think this but, God, I hope I'm wrong! "I'm sure they're fine, Carmen," Charlie said but then a thought occurred that sent him into a panic, "Jones! What about Jones? We've been here a while now. What if he followed us when he recovered?"

Carmen looked at him in a panic. "We've always got this," she said, patting the assault rifle that they had taken away from Jones.

Charlie looked at the ugly, angular object. "What are we going to do with that? I don't know how to use one of those, do you?" Carmen shook her head. "I'm not sure that Jones is going to believe us if we point that at him. He's just going to laugh at us."

"Then I suggest we figure it out pretty quickly then and stop bleating!" Carmen snapped.

"Just watch where you're pointing it!"

Carmen fiddled with the rifle, carefully pointing it in the direction of the turbulent sea. At one point the magazine dropped out spilling a couple of glittering cartridges into the sand. Cursing under her breath she slid the magazine back and fiddled some more, eventually sliding back a long bolt that lunged back forward, powered by a powerful spring. Giving the rifle a quizzical look she pulled the trigger.

Accompanied by a snapping, ear punching roar, the rifle bucked in her hands and fired three shots into the sea in rapid succession. Carmen squeaked and dropped it into the sand where it spat out three more shots in a much more disturbing fashion.

"Carmen!" Charlie yelped, leaping behind their palm log for safety. He was quickly followed by the terrified girl, who threw herself flat into the sand.

They lay there, panting, for a while. It became apparent that the rifle was not going to fire again. Charlie wondered what else could go wrong today. As he lay there considering the mess his life had become, he giggled. Everything suddenly seemed hilarious. What with: a dragon, spectres, ghosts, two fat dads,, mental mercenaries, a woman straight from worst movie villains ever, and a crazy girl who seemed to have absolutely no idea of how dangerous things were, he had to ask, what had his life become? It definitely wasn't like East Brockley at all. What was he going to say to his mother? How was he going to answer, "How was Tonga, darling?" The giggles became a river of bubbling mirth and he lay in the sand helplessly, prostrate with the lunacy of it all.

Carmen looked at him peculiarly and laughed too, though a little nervously as if afraid that Charlie had somehow become unhinged. She stepped back over the log and retrieved the rifle, inspecting it and familiarising herself with how it was now, how ready it was to use.

"Don't try and shoot me with it, you'll only miss," Charlie snorted. "You need to drop it first. That way I can guarantee you'll hit me in the backside!"

Carmen stuck her tongue out at him and was about to say something when she froze. "Charlie, shh! Listen!"

Some distance into the forest came the sound of something large crashing through the brush and undergrowth. Was that roaring they could hear? The two children, startled, looked at each in panic and ducked back over onto the beach side of the log. Could the dragon be coming? Carmen looked at the rifle and almost threw it into the sand. What was that going to do against the dragon?

The time they spent immobile due to their indecision squandered the time they needed to get away. Charlie frantically looked along the beach for somewhere better to hide. How close was the beast? The noise it was making was astonishing and was getting closer still. It sounded like the whole forest was coming down. The beach was open, devoid of anything better to conceal them than the palm log they were already behind. The only other way was back into the forest and that would only take them closer to the dragon! Charlie despaired. Why was it coming here, of all places?

The children burrowed under the log as far as they could, shifting sand desperately with their hands, tearing fingernails and scraping knuckles. It all seemed so hopeless. Great, after all this we've finally lost! Why did we bother at all! Charlie was almost in tears but three days of terror had left him numb. All he wanted to do was lie down and hope that it would all be over quickly.

***

"Rick! Stop! We're here!" George yelled over the rattling of the bulldozer's engine. Like a dishevelled bear, George leapt down from the bulldozer and scampered over to the edge of the treeline. A windswept seascape lay just beyond.

Rick cut the engine and climbed down, taking the time for a brief look back along the track they had taken. He smiled to himself. You wouldn't need to go to the University of Bushcraft to figure out which way he and George had taken. A scar of bare earth snaked back into the forest. It meandered around the bigger trees and was bordered by a moraine of shattered shrubbery. Oops. Oh well, it'll grow back and if the dragon's loose it doesn't matter anyway since it'll all be ash.

"Any sign of the kids!" he shouted to George.

"None that I can see!"

***

Not believing what he was hearing, Charlie bolted up from behind the log.

"Dad!" he screamed in delight. "Dad! We're over here!"

Carmen immediately followed, howling like a banshee, laughing and grinning all at the same time. George, on seeing her toting a rifle, quickly disarmed her and made the weapon safe.

The two groups came together in a giant happy heap of hugs and back-slapping. Not even the rain, which suddenly decided to pour all the harder, could dampen their spirits.

Eventually they settled down and simply smiled at each other. Carmen extricated another item from the ration pack and offered her father a candy bar. Nodding happily, George barely paused to breathe as he wolfed the bar down in one.

"Thanks, Carmen," he mumbled through a mouthful of toffee and chocolate. "That'll recharge my batteries. We've got work to do."

"And we've got to do it now," said Rick. "It's high time we got off this island."

"How are we going to do that, Dad? The sea's too rough and the rubber boat got wrecked by the mortar."

"Well, Charlie, I guess I'll have to bring the plane in a little closer."

"You can't swim in that!" Carmen said.

"Not on the surface. But I could use the scuba gear."

"Rick, it'll be dangerous, the Cat will be pitching too much. You could get killed!"

"Yeah, and what'll happen if we stay? I'll go up by the anchor cable. If I time it right, I'll be fine. Stay here, George and keep an eye on things."

As luck would have it they weren't far away from George and Rick's scuba gear, which they had so carefully hidden three nights past. Quickly suiting up, Rick disappeared into the breakers and fought his way clear from the shore. The children and George waited anxiously on the strand of beach for any sign of Rick's progress.

Perhaps twenty minutes went past, perhaps thirty. It seemed as if there would be no end to the waiting and Charlie actually began to chew his fingernails. He began to imagine that the worst had happened and judging by George's stony face he was suffering similar anxiety. Could Rick have been caught in a swift current and dragged over coral. Could the bucking pontoons on the Cat have struck him as he tried to climb onboard, sending him unconscious to the bottom of the sea?

It was a long time coming but when one of the Catalina's engines shuddered into life Charlie felt the relief as physical pain. It was as if someone had grabbed hold of his heart, squeezed and then let go. The three of them felt like it was Christmas and Easter rolled into one. Dancing, jumping up and down, screaming and shouting, whooping and yelling, Charlie, Carmen and George wept at their deliverance.

It took around twenty minutes for Rick to get the other engine started and manoeuvre the Cat closer in shore. The waves still through it about but he cast a line to George, who made it fast to a palm on shore.

"Grab hold of this, it'll keep you safe!" George said to the children.

One by one they tackled the white water. Salt stung Charlie's eyes as he plunged into the maelstrom of breaking water. Waves crashed into him as he hung onto the line desperately, leaving him breathless from the constant assault. His father pulled him across to the Cat by means of a second rope tied around his waist and by the time he struggled up the side of the flying boat he was good for very little.

"Get in your seat and buckle up! It's going to be a rough ride through this sea!" His father ordered, as he threw a line back to George for Carmen.

Soon they were all on board, complete with a few cuts and bruises from their perilous crossing. George came aboard last, insisting that Rick load up the rucksacks and equipment that they had taken from Savanarolova and Munro. After securing the kit, George cut their tether to shore and Rick gunned the Cat's motors, taking the big seaplane away from Solitude at last. With a last look through the observation blisters Charlie and Carmen turned in their seats to watch Solitude disappear through a haze of spray and backwash from the twin engines overhead. They heard the engines overhead spooling up to full throttle and the plane began to shudder and rattle in that oh, so familiar, homely way.

"Time to go home, Carmen," he said quietly.

Reaching out a hand to him, she smiled, "Time to go home, Charlie."

***

Winthrop-Smythe had reached the crater of the volcano. It was sometime in the afternoon and although he had been walking all morning through the dense forest he had stopped for nothing. His muscles felt no tiredness, nor did they ache, nor was he breathless. He felt as if he could walk all day long and all night at twice the speed. In fact, he would almost have said that he had a kind of superhuman strength. Maybe there's advantage in being dead after all. I could get used to this.

To prove this to himself, he had run up the last kilometre of the volcano's rain shrouded slopes. Looking down through the misty clouds, into the crater, he saw the same vista of forest and lake that Charlie, Carmen, Rick, George, Savanarolova and Munro had seen only the day before. Negotiating the broken slopes of the interior carefully through natural caution, Winthrop-Smythe soon found himself striding through more first towards the centre of the crater. About where the lake is, I think. He still felt that urgency within him that manifested itself as an almost physical pull, an urgent need to be somewhere, but he still had no clue as to what it might be.

When he reached the lake he paused. Somehow the pull seemed to want to take him down into the volcano but he was damned if he knew how. Scanning the environment around him he quickly spotted the bunker, even in the drear light of the rain and low cloud.

"I wonder where that goes?" he said to himself in a bubbling voice. He still had not been able to remove much of the water from his lungs and it was proving to be something of an irritation.

Winthrop-Smythe followed the tunnel entrance to the bunker door, which was wide open. He passed inside, and felt a wall of heat bathe his face and hands. "What...?" he said to himself.

There was glow ahead in the darkness, a fierce glow reminiscent of the forge at the blacksmith's in the Gloucestershire village that he had grown up in. Curiosity got the better of his caution. What could happen to him now he was dead! He walked slowly up the passage way to take a peek at what could be causing this intense heat.

At the end of the passage he could see in the flickering red light a freight lift that stood unused and the remains of a doorway, beyond which was what appeared to be an inferno.

"Well, I'm here now. Might as well take a peek." Confidence in his newly deceased status overcame his fears and he stepped over to the doorway.

A head swam up through the wavering air within the orange tinted concrete tube of the old stairwell, a head whose shape was impossible and whose size was improbable. Winthrop-Smythe took a step backwards, "No! No! It can't be! It can't be!"

Fire scoured the corridor and bunker entrance reducing steel to pools of incandescent melt. Wood and Winthrop-Smythe were burnt down to so much ash, which was blasted from the bunker entrance by the force of the dragon's gale, only to mix with the rain and fall to earth in the sucking mud.

***

The take-off had been the most dangerous one that Rick had undertaken ever. It had been touch and go for a moment and he had not been convinced that the bucking aeroplane would make it through the plunging waves. However, it did crawl into the air and, once free of the bonds of the sea, the Cat soared up into the clouds as if there had never been any doubt about the wisdom of flying on such a day.

They took a circuit over Solitude just to perform a few checks on the seaplane as well as to see if there was anyone else on shore. George quickly spotted a launch that appeared to be making heavy weather leaving one of the bays. He nodded grimly when he spotted three figures in the boat, one of them unmistakably a woman with closely cropped blonde hair.

The thing that would always remain with Charlie from his forced stay on Solitude happened just as they turned for home. He and Carmen had unbuckled themselves from their seats and were crowded into one of the observation blisters. They had begun complaining about how each other smelt, and whether one of them had stepped in something, when a flash of red light at the top of the volcano caught their eyes.

Hardly believing what they were seeing, they watched a long sinuous shape, like a red scar in the fabric of the clouds, worm its way into the air from the top of Solitude. Writhing and scintillating, it quickly accelerated away into the cumulus, heading north.

Carmen turned to Charlie, "Was that...?"

"I guess."

"What'll happen now?"

"I dunno. I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

---

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