by Tim Lebbon
“Yes!” Reles shouted, and other voices were raised in delight.
But Conrad’s heart fell. At first glance they appeared close to the ocean, but between them and the sea was a wide, level spread of marshland, stretching left and right for at least a mile. Planted at its centre, halfway between where they stood and open water, was the skeletal remains of a shipwreck, half-buried in the marsh and rusted and rotted away. It lent the whole scene the air of a graveyard, and Conrad wondered how many sad human remains spent a lonely eternity beneath the surface.
“It’s marshland,” he said. “We’ll sink and drown, or get caught and…” He didn’t need to say ‘and what’. They could all hear the fight behind them, and they knew that the warring beasts were coming their way. The ground shook, rippling the surface of a nearby pool of brackish water. Their furious roars serenaded the growing dawn. Trees cracked and snapped, sounding like bomb detonations echoing through the jungle.
They didn’t have very long.
“Terrific, now what?” Weaver asked. She was panting but still in control, and if she was feeling panic she didn’t show it.
“Reles, your flare gun,” Conrad said. The soldier handed the gun and its ammunition belt over without question. Conrad assessed their situation again, taking in everything he could about the location. It was barely a plan, but it was all they had. Conrad checked the gun over, then handed it and the belt to Weaver.
“Get up on those rocks and fire these,” he said, pointing ahead to where a rocky promontory jutted out into the marshland. “With any luck, the extract ship will see us.”
“What about you?” Weaver asked.
Behind them, the battle was drawing close. The tree line shook with increasing impacts, and Conrad knew they had only minutes to act. The soldiers and Marlow were preparing to make a stand, even though rifles and a sword would do nothing against such massive beasts.
Conrad tried to shake the idea that this was all hopeless. Only once in his life had he given up hope, when he’d seen the dead girl Jenny lying at his feet. Never since. He wasn’t about to start now.
“Just run!” he said to Weaver. “We’re armed, you’re not, and you’re probably faster than all of us!”
Securing her camera around her neck she nodded once and then ran for the rocks.
The Skull Devil smashed through the tree line. It seemed even bigger than it had before, none of it hidden beneath a waterline and with dawn’s early sunlight revealing the whole of its grotesque, horrific body. Much of it was snakelike, but with thick legs and heavily clawed feet. Its head was almost amphibian, but scaled and spiked, its mouth wide enough to swallow Marlow’s boat with all of them inside. Its tail whipped from side to side, scoring deep scars across tree trunks. It stood and stared at them, sweeping its head from left to right as it took in the scene. In its gaze Conrad saw an awful malevolent intelligence.
Mills started shooting first, and the others quickly joined in. Even though Conrad knew it would do no good, he started firing as well, aiming for the monster’s eyes.
It stormed towards them. If the bullets did penetrate anywhere, they did not seem to bother the beast. It roared as it came, displaying vicious teeth and a long, forked tongue that whipped at the air, sensing, tasting them. They would hardly constitute a meal.
Conrad had one grenade on his belt. If it came to it, he’d pull the pin seconds before being swept into the monster’s mouth.
He glanced back at Weaver and saw her running along the single spit of land that protruded out into the marsh. She reached the rocky promontory and started scrambling up, looking back over her shoulder but not slowing down. The flare pistol was stuck in her belt. They had to give her as long as possible to give them all a chance.
But Conrad felt hope slipping away. How could they fight such a monster? With bullets and bombs that would barely scratch its thick hide? Even if they still had the flamethrower or the .50 cal, or the barrels of napalm, head-on combat with this beast would be brief and with only one possible outcome.
“Back,” he shouted to the others. “Back!” They ceased firing and ran towards the sea, and already Conrad could feel the soft ground beneath his boots. Areas of higher ground might offer some hope, and yet the beast had come from beneath the lake, and it would surely be as at home in this marshland as anywhere else.
He wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t. Not here, not now. Not while he had a single breath in his body, a single desperate thought in his mind.
“This way!” he shouted, leading them out into the marsh. If they worked their way across the marsh and towards the sea, maybe they could hold it off until the ship arrived.
He glanced across the marsh at the old shipwreck and discarded any notion of heading there. It would offer them scant protection, and once inside they would be trapped. He wondered what had grounded the vessel, what had happened to the crew. Maybe a monster had dragged it ashore, like a spider trapping a meal…
“Cole!” Mills shouted. “Whatcha doing, man? Fall back!” Conrad paused and looked back at the soldiers, only to see Cole standing on dry land and facing down the charging monster.
Cole looked back and locked eyes with Mills. “Live your life,” he said. He turned back and hefted the grenade launcher from his shoulder, crouching and firing in a single movement.
Conrad allowed himself a moment of hope as the grenade smoked towards the advancing beast. One in the mouth would be lucky. One in the eye would be even better. Such an impact might not kill it, but could give them a chance to escape, and might even deter the Skull Devil from attempting to attack them again.
The grenade exploded against the creature’s chest. It reared up, shook its head, then fell onto its front feet again, the foot-long claws sinking into the ground and splashing stinking marsh water into the air.
It roared. Its breath reached them all, stinking like rotten meat and death.
“Come and get me, you bastard!” Cole shouted. He pulled two grenades from his belt, bit out the pins, and ran towards the Skull Devil as it came for him. His aggressive attack brought the monster up short, and for a moment it seemed to pause in puzzlement at this tiny enemy charging it down. Then it lunged for Cole.
It opened its mouth to bite him in half as the first grenade exploded. Cole was blasted to pieces, his head and part of his torso spinning to the right. When the Skull Devil flinched away from the blast and instinctively snapped at the flying piece of meat, the second grenade clasped in the dead man’s hand detonated.
This time Conrad saw the blast light up the monster’s mouth, smoke enveloping its head and shrapnel tearing chunks from its teeth and gums. It roared in agony, but even its mighty voice could not drown out Mills’s shout of despair.
“Noooooo!”
Conrad grabbed him by the shoulder, squeezing hard. They had to take every chance Cole had given them.
“Come on!” he shouted. “We have to move!” They ran across the marsh, finding fewer areas of dry land, moving slower, but still putting distance between themselves and the stunned Skull Devil. As they splashed up to their knees in foul-smelling water, their feet released clouds of stinking methane from the rotting vegetation beneath the water’s surface. At any moment Conrad expected to go in up to his waist or deeper, and then that would be the end of him.
Conrad kept firing. He’d seen a hundred men die in explosions, and he’d been close enough to death—had dealt it himself, many times—to wonder at the moment between being and not being. Seeing Cole blown apart had only made him wonder more.
He turned to face the attacking monster just as it made its killing lunge. The face in his mind at the moment of death was Jenny, not lying dead with her brains blown out, but crying as she reached for him, as if she had lost him and not the other way around.
A boulder smashed into the Skull Devil’s head, knocking it sideways and sending it sprawling into the marsh.
Conrad gasped and stepped back, saved from falling by Marlow who caught him under the arms
.
“Look!” the pilot shouted. “Look!” He pointed to their left as Kong thundered from the jungle. The ape ran on all fours, one giant fist clasped around another huge rock. His fur was still smouldering in places, and here and there it was burned away entirely, revealing raw, open flesh. The wounds did not seem to have lessened him at all.
Kong’s face was filled with rage.
He reached the Skull Devil as it was finding its feet, raised the other boulder above his head, and brought it down into the monster’s side with sickening force. Thick hide split and spewed dark blood. The creature howled, high and piercing.
As Kong raised the rock a second time, the Skull Devil twisted its huge snake-like body, whipping its tail around and slamming it across the ape’s chest. Kong staggered back and tripped, falling back into the tree line and releasing the rock. The ground shook as he fell.
The attacker roared in triumph and advanced on the fallen giant.
Conrad knew that he and the others should be using this opportunity to flee. Yet the fight was both awful and fascinating, and he couldn’t help but watch. His feet were rooted to the spot.
Kong grasped a huge tree and hauled himself upright, grabbing the trunk in both hands and tugging it from the ground. He used his momentum to swing the uprooted tree around and smashed it across the Skull Devil’s head. Leaves and mud flew, branches splintered. It fell again, more dazed than before, clawing with its huge feet to drag itself away from Kong and along the shoreline.
Conrad searched for Weaver. She had reached the top of the rocky spit of land, and she did not hesitate for a moment. She pulled the flare gun and fired, launching a bright red light high on a column smoke.
“Come on!” he shouted. “While we can, come on!” The soldiers and Marlow followed him out across the marsh, running parallel to the rocky promontory where Weaver now stood. Conrad could not help glancing back over his shoulder with every few steps, because the balance had changed. He allowed himself hope once again.
Kong was winning. Still grasping the uprooted tree, he was beating the Skull Devil across the head and back, slamming the trunk into its body and driving it further across the marsh with every blow. He took a step between each impact, kicking at the writhing body and pushing it closer and closer to the old shipwreck. Bloody and filthy water surged across the marsh and splashed down like rain. The trunk splintered, turning from a massive club to a deadly spear in the giant’s hands.
“Go on!” Conrad shouted, and it was strange feeling a moment of elation amongst such horror. For the first time he recognised the true wonder in this magnificent beast—a brutal, furious, primeval wonder that he had never witnessed before. He hoped that if they did escape he would never see its like again, but knowing Kong was here would perhaps open up his mind to the world and its stunning potential. Discovering King Kong must be like finding God.
But the devil was here also, and though beaten and bloodied, he was far from down.
The Skull Devil righted itself and rushed Kong, slamming its head into his chest and driving him back and down, both bodies crushing the shipwreck’s remains in a scream of tortured metal and roars of animal pain.
Oh, no, Conrad thought. The monster reared up over the fallen Kong, lifting its tail and poising it above its head like a scorpion’s stinger. Kong tried to roll, but the Skull Devil butted him again, slamming him back down into the shipwreck.
The monster’s tail was long, strong, and tipped with a cruel ivory barb the length of Marlow’s boat. Smashing it down into Kong’s face would surely provide the killing blow.
Machine-gun fire shattered the scene, and .50 cal rounds strafed across the Skull Devil’s midsection, blood flowers bursting from its hide. It shrieked and fell aside, crawling behind the shipwreck and the fallen ape to shield itself from the fusillade of bullets.
Marlow’s boat powered along the coast, San at the helm, Brooks propped behind the mounted .50 cal gun. Conrad didn’t think he had ever been so glad to see anyone.
“Come on!” he shouted. “Get to the water!” He looked up at Weaver and waved, but she was already starting to climb down from the rocks.
“It’s back up!” Mills said.
The Skull Devil was on its feet again, and preparing to rush them. Weaver’s rock was now between it and the boat, so even though Brooks still manned the gun, he didn’t have a clear line of fire.
As the monster took its first step, Kong grabbed its tail and hauled it back. He stood again, letting go and backing away as the Skull Devil turned on him one more time. For a few seconds they circled, sizing each other up and readying themselves for the fight they both had to continue.
The Skull Devil lashed out with its tail, Kong ducked and launched himself forward, and they clashed.
Conrad splashed on as the boat powered in as far as they dared, and soon all but Weaver were within hailing distance of Marlow’s vessel.
“Nice to see you, fellas!” Brooks shouted, still positioned behind the .50 cal and looking for a clear shot.
“Feeling’s mutual!” Marlow shouted. “Hope you’re looking after my boat.”
“Weaver, hurry!” Conrad shouted. He wasn’t sure whether she heard, but she continued scrambling down the rocks, leaping from boulder to boulder with dangerous abandon. She had no choice; Conrad knew that, and she did too. Kong stood between them all and certain death, and this was a race against time.
As Slivko and the others waded out and started climbing aboard the boat, Conrad saw Kong give the Skull Devil a massive kick that sent it reeling. Its tail whipped out and Kong ducked the sharp, pointed end… but then its long mass wrapped around his waist, squeezed, and threw him to the ground. He smashed down onto the shipwrecked boat once again, roaring in pain when he landed. He flailed his arms to right himself, but the ship’s rigging and an anchor chain were tangled around one arm and his legs.
Kong paused for an instant, taking in the scene.
The monster’s sharp tail lashed out again and scored Kong across his hip and stomach. He screamed and tried to grab onto the tail, but it slicked through his hand, flicking out and slashing him across his palm. Blood flew in a rainbow arc.
“Brooks!” San shouted on the boat, and a second later Brooks opened fire with the heavy machine-gun. Bullets streaked across the marshland and stitched the Skull Devil’s back, and as he shifted his aim up towards his head—
—the weapon jammed.
The Skull Devil whirled around and faced the boat. It snarled and hunched down, every inch the devil, blood flowing freely from many wounds, teeth dripping with it, and Conrad knew it was seconds away from its final charge.
“Uh, Marlow, little help?” Brooks said.
Marlow scrambled across the boat to the gun and started tinkering.
“She always was a little temperamental. Hey, Reles, gimme a hand!”
Conrad clung onto the boat’s railing but didn’t pull himself up. He looked across to Weaver, almost at the base of the rock formation yet still too far away. She’d never make it in time.
The Skull Devil was paused now, looking back at the defenceless Kong, then out at the boat once again. It was weighing its options. He sensed that awful intelligence again as it decided which enemy it wanted to destroy first.
It seemed to lock eyes with him as it made up its mind.
“It’s coming,” he said, more to himself than everyone else. He made a decision. He wasn’t certain that it was brave. He’d never considered himself a brave man, but rather someone good at getting the job done. As the Skull Devil splashed through the marsh towards the boat, Conrad let go of the railing and dropped back into the water. He swam as far as he could, crawled quickly back onto the marshy land, and ran away from the boat. He fired several shots at the beast as he went, eager to draw its attention.
It shook its head as bullets pricked above its eyes, then turned to look at him.
“I’ll keep it busy!” he shouted, still running. “You go!” He didn’t hear any resp
onse, and did not risk glancing back. He only hoped they’d be wise enough to take the chance he was offering them.
He continued shooting as he went, short, careful bursts that each found their mark. He aimed for its eyes. If he hit them, it did nothing to slow the monster down. It was coming for him. That had been his intention, but now he had seconds to live. He scanned the ground ahead of him, seeing nowhere to hide. He stepped into a deeper area of marsh and went down, gripping the rifle as he went under the stinking water. It flooded into his mouth and he gagged, puking as he struggled to his feet again, running, spitting vomit and rank marsh water aside as he went, firing his pistol back over his shoulder and holding the rifle in his other hand.
He risked one glance back to see the boat cutting through the water away from the shore.
Then a spark of light lit up in the distance, and a flare arced in and struck the Skull Devil on the back of its head.
It skidded to a stop, throwing up a wave of mud and water. As it shook its head and turned around, Weaver fired a second flare that wavered through the air and hit it on the right leg.
Conrad fired a long, sustained shot into the back of its head just below what might have been an ear. His M-16 ran dry and he threw it aside, firing his pistol again.
Past the monster he could see Weaver, halfway between the rock and the shore, feeling across her belt for more flares but finding nothing there. They were both out.
The Skull Devil looked back and forth between them, confused about which one to go for. With so many enemies now almost helpless, it was spoilt for choice.
Conrad fired his last three rounds and it came for him, tail raised and ready to slam him into the ground. He grabbed his last grenade.
From his left, a great shape rose out of the marsh. It was Kong, ripping himself partly free of the wreck, tugging on a heavy chain that still held him down, and then swinging it up and around, the rusted propeller tangled in its end performing a perfect arc into the Skull Devil’s side.