Dragon City by James Axler

drop. He knew that Mahood was doomed, and threw himself into the mouth of an alley to seek shelter from the flaming wreckage falling from the sky.

Chapter 7
    Once he confirmed all his teammates were present, Grant tried to establish their location. He estimated they were no more than three-fourths of a mile from the outer wall. He activated his hidden Commtact link, switching to the frequency they had set aside to speak with their local contact, the man called Hassood.
    “This is Grant from Cerberus,” Grant said, keeping his voice low as he spoke into his subdermal device. Once the pintels made contact, transmissions were picked up by the wearer’s auditory canals, and dermal sensors transmitted the electronic signals directly through the skull casing, vibrating the ear canal. In theory, a completely deaf user would still be able to hear normally, in a fashion, courtesy of the Commtact device.
    The units also functioned as real-time translation devices, providing they had enough raw vocabulary from a language programmed into their processor. And because they were directly connected to the body of the user, could amplify speech no matter how quiet. As such, Grant chose not to raise his voice when calling for Hassood, so as not to attract any unwanted attention in the mysterious dragon city. The place appeared deserted, but Grant knew he could not test the veracity of that observation. Best be careful, then.
    “Local, are you receiving me?” Grant said.
    The Commtact receiver remained silent for an agonizing stretch of seconds before a man’s voice, high-pitched and reminding Grant of a woman, came back to him. “Receiving you, Cerberus,” the man confirmed. “This is Hassood. I saw an explosion. What happenings?”
    Grant winced. “I’m afraid we ran into some trouble,” he said delicately. “Your cousin…he didn’t make it. I’m sorry.”
    There was silence again over the Commtact, and Grant could feel the eyes of his team burning on him as they listened to just one side of the conversation.
    “Hassood?” Grant prompted.
    Hassood’s voice came back over the Commtact. “Very sad day. Let us not make it any sadder. Where are you?”
    “We landed wide of the field,” Grant explained. “About a half mile or so into town along the western edge. How close are you?”
    “Head west,” Hassood responded after a moment’s thought. “You’ll see a towering thing, like…um…needle, yes? Knitting needle?”
    “Gotcha,” Grant confirmed.
    “Needle is made of white stone, in center of street,” Hassood said. “You will see it. I come, wait for you there.”
    “Okay,” Grant agreed. “We’re on our way.”
    Grant led his field team through the eerie, empty city. The lanes were silent, unlit. There were no streetlamps at all, not even the suggestion of ones that might have once worked. It left the city in darkness, shadows genuflecting to the tidal whims of the moon. The dragon city was made up of buildings of all shapes and sizes, everything constructed of a white stone. The buildings all appeared to be boarded up, every last one of them, doors and windows barricaded with pale-colored struts as if the inhabitants were preparing for a tornado, battening down the hatches. But if they were, then the locals were waiting now in silence—the whole city seemed to echo only with the footsteps of the Cerberus team, the panting of Rosalia’s dog sounding like a steam train as it reverberated off the brickwork.
    Beneath the single silvery line of the slimmest crescent moon, the roads were narrow and winding, made of dusty cobbles, sand sprinkled between them that billowed up to dance on the tireless eddies of the wind. There were several abandoned vehicles here, the odd motorized cart parked at the roadside, windows and hubcaps filthy with white sand. Grant urged them to continue, heading in a westerly direction to the arranged meeting place with their guide, Hassood. By keeping to one direction, Grant hoped