The Island of the Skull

by Matthew John Costello

  Zelman sat down. “Exactly.”

  Carl stood there looking at the open space. He was about to walk—there was no way he could do this. He gave Preston a quick side glance. Denham could read the cameraman’s mind. Let’s blow this place.

  Kind of ruined Denham’s taste for this building, this new wonder of the modern world….

  But then he nodded.

  “Okay. Maybe I can do it. The stars will like it. And I can get any animals we need; you’re right, it’s a big damn space.”

  Now he felt Preston’s eyes on him.

  “Sure—it can be done. But—” Denham looked up. “You’re going to have give me the budget, a reasonable budget to do it, to make the sets, get the animals, you know?”

  “How much more reasonable?”

  “Yeah. Maybe a fifteen percent increase.”

  Zelman looked out the window. He looked down at the streets, thinking—

  “Ten percent. But that’s it—there will be no more money.”

  “Okay. We got a deal.” Denham stuck his hand out to Zelman, who took it without a great deal of enthusiasm. “And now, gentlemen, we better get going, we have a movie to make. Mind if I take these?” he asked, pointing to the plans.

  “They’re yours.”

  Denham scooped up the rolls, and started out of the office.

  “And we will want to see footage soon, once you get your cast, get the show rolling.”

  “You got it,” Denham said, as he pushed the inner office door open, and scurried out.

  “Mind telling me why you agreed to that? You’re going to make a film on sets?”

  Walking down Broadway, Carl grabbed Preston’s wrist.

  “Don’t you see what I did?”

  “I see that you agreed to shoot a jungle movie in Queens.”

  “And I got more money. Money that is not going into sets. We’ll do some shooting there. But I’ll get my location stuff.”

  Preston stopped.

  “How?”

  “I run the budget, and I’ll make sure some of that dough keeps Englehorn happy till we sail. Hell, by then I may have convinced Zelman that we need location stuff. At any rate, I’ll get my location footage. It will still be a Carl Denham picture.”

  “And where is that location?”

  Denham looked away.

  “Good question. I want someplace new, someplace dangerous, exotic. Show people something they haven’t seen before.”

  “And that is?”

  “Dunno, Preston, my man. But I have a plan to find this place. A plan, and when I do—when I know where our secret location is—you will be the first to know. Now, how about some breakfast at Nedick’s—talking money makes me nervous and hungry.”

  “Sure.”

  And Denham and Preston walked across the street, the morning sun now cutting through the Manhattan canyons as the busiest city in the world got ready to move into high speed on a hot July day.

  35

  Atlantic City, New Jersey

  BELLE WALKED UP THE RAMP slowly, though Ann felt that the horse wanted to hurry. It had a lot of spirit, but she had to make sure the animal knew that Ann was in charge.

  Its hooves made a loud clatter as it went step by careful step up…until Ann was higher than the rows of seats located at the end of the pier, higher, until Ann could see the sun sitting above the jewel-like glistening sea.

  She felt a wind too, stronger up here.

  It was beautiful—so much so that she missed it when the walkway turned, and came to an edge.

  She had expected that there would be some barrier that she’d have to lift, something to pull, so the horse could then get to the edge and jump.

  But instead, Belle turned, snorted…stamped one foot—right on the precipice.

  “Okay girl, you know what to do. But it’s my first time, so we’re gonna take it nice and slow.”

  She looked down and saw Eddy by the edge of the Aquacade area.

  He held his hands up to his mouth like a megaphone.

  “Anytime you’re ready, Ann.”

  Anytime I’m ready….

  Which is never.

  She leaned down, holding the bridle close, leaning right into Belle’s neck just as Eddy had instructed.

  She got her feet positioned and ready for the kick.

  “Okay, girl…show me how it’s done.”

  She kicked the flanks of the animal as hard as she could. Couldn’t feel good, and for a moment Belle reared her head back, and Ann had to hold on even harder.

  But then the horse stepped back fast, and shot forward—until, before Ann knew it, she was flying through the air, then tilting down. And the ocean raced at her so fast that she was barely aware that they weren’t on the platform anymore.

  Then into the ocean—icy cold after feeling the morning heat up above.

  But Belle knew what to do. And the horse surfaced, paddling to another ramp where it could climb up, then out of the water.

  Ann blew some wet strands of hair away from her face, and saw Eddy, clapping.

  “Well done, kiddo. Well done.”

  The horse climbed out, and Eddy was there with a treat, maybe a sugar cube Ann guessed.

  “How was it?”

  Ann was still holding on to the horse’s neck for dear life.

  “Terrifying.”

  “You did great. And Ann, you can let go now. This is where you get off the pony to the sound of thunderous applause.”

  She let go of the bridle, and stopped hugging the horse’s neck.

  “And when do I experience that?”

  Eddy looked at his watch.

  “Oh, in about two hours.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. So go get dry, get some breakfast—you’re part of the show now. And I’ll make sure Belle is ready for you.”

  Just like Manny, she thought. Sweet, funny, and something so smart and good about this trainer.

  Ann gave him a hug.

  “Ow,” Eddy said.

  “Thanks for everything. Showing me what to do.” Then she patted Belle. “And thank you too.”

  Belle raised her head and snorted.

  And Ann very much doubted that the dappled horse would ever try to take a nip at her.

  36

  The Indian Ocean

  SAM KELLY KEPT LOOKING DOWN at the red cloud of blood below him. He mentally kept counting out each second even as the Susana crew pulled him to the surface at the fastest possible speed, skirting the limit of a bends-free dive.

  His helmet broke the surface, and through the cascading water he saw the hull of the boat, and then, he started quickly getting onto the metal platform, and was pulled up.

  He started yelling at them even as they began unbolting his helmet.

  But the tenders understood only Portuguese and his muffled yells only brought strange, worried expressions.

  Until the helmet popped off.

  “Get moving, get the hell out of here! Get your goddam anchors up now!”

  Rosa stood there, shaking his head. “But Tommy, he is below, what hap—”

  But then the sudden shouts of the tenders made Rosa turn around, and Sam watched them begin to pull in the air hoses, air hoses attached to now just a bloody severed head in a helmet. One of the tenders turned away and vomited on the deck of the ship.

  “The kid’s dead. Shit, something got him. Christ, get the anchors up,” Sam said. “Now!”

  “Dead? But how—”

  “He’s gone, and we will be too if you don’t move now!”

  Rosa turned away. “Bakali, Ernesto—hurry!”

  Rosa yelled orders, and crewmen hurried fore and aft and started working on the anchor chains. Then—

  “Ernesto, to the wheelhouse. Start the engines.”

  One of the dive tenders removed Sam’s heavy horse collar.

  “And tell him fast,” Sam said quietly.

  “Where, what direction?” Rosa asked.

  “It doesn’t the hell matte
r. Just away from here.”

  Rosa yelled again at his men at the anchors, obviously telling them to hurry. Sam knew that Rosa didn’t have a clue what was wrong, what happened.

  Which obviously said something for the power of the crazed and terrified look in Sam’s eyes.

  He heard more yells as the two anchors popped out of the water. The rumble of the engines picked up.

  They started helping Sam out of his suit.

  The creature broke the water only yards away.

  In the daylight, with the blazing sun hitting the shimmering water, with all that light falling upon it, the creature looked as if there was no way it could be real.

  For a moment, every person on that ship went perfectly still.

  Sam saw that his estimate of its size was—if anything—low. It had to be closer to sixty feet. The sun made the twin rows of teeth glisten, stand out against the gray-green skin, pebbled by bumps and ridges.

  “Madre dio…” Rosa whispered. Then: “Ernesto, move!”

  And before the creature went below the water again, Sam saw that its tail, though still looking like a crocodile, was more tapered, more like some great fish tail, though this creature obviously breathed air.

  It dived below the water.

  The ship finally lurched forward.

  Ernesto steered a course away from the spot they had been diving, back in the direction from where they came.

  But Sam, now out of his dive suit, standing there, cold from the breeze or perhaps, he thought, the fear, had a thought that seemed so clear and obvious.

  There was no back, there was no returning from this thing.

  For a few moments, everyone stood quietly while the ship ran at its highest revs, the sea breeze in their faces, the hot Indian Ocean sunlight glimmering everywhere.

  And each person, Sam knew, had to be praying—in whatever way they prayed, to whatever god ruled their life and nightmares.

  Sam thought of his life, not a terribly long one so far, his feeling that there had to be great adventures ahead, great discoveries—that the future had to be filled with unknown possibilities.

  Then this other thought, new, feeling it for the first time—that his future might never come. All those possibilities suddenly gone, vanished into thin air.

  He looked at everyone on deck, each locked into their own thoughts.

  Sam wondered: Is this the way we should be going…back?

  Or should we have gone farther, perhaps past the natural barrier of the reef and coral?

  A good question.

  As if in answer, something rammed the ship from the bottom, and sent it tilting to starboard.

  The first blow from below the surface sent a wave of water cascading over the side. But then the second hit the stern of the boat, and now sent the bow dipping below the water. One of the crew went flying forward, but managed to grab the railing even as his legs went flying over the side.

  The boat righted itself.

  Rosa started yelling orders, and Sam stood there, arms locked on some fitting on the deck of the pearl ship, holding on for the next hit.

  But Rosa’s order had the ship turning, quickly coming around to the other direction, cutting into its own wake.

  Then the course straightened.

  Right for the fog bank.

  Sam looked behind the boat, and he saw the creature rise again, its eyes giant black grapefruits watching the wooden prey race away, belching smoke and white foam.

  It followed on the surface, its tail occasionally whipping the water behind it, but it didn’t seem able to keep up with the boat.

  It slipped under the water.

  Sam turned back to the fog bank. What was Rosa doing? This wasn’t the way back where they came from.

  The boat steamed steady now, no more attacks from the creature. Sam ran up to the wheelhouse. He grabbed the handrails to the narrow ladder and climbed up.

  “Captain Rosa, what are you doing?”

  “Getting away from that thing. Is that…what attacked you?”

  Sam nodded.

  “What is it?” The captain’s voice shook.

  “I don’t know.” Sam gestured over his shoulder at the wall of fog. “Why there?”

  “The ship, she’s been hit…below the water line. We are taking water.”

  “You mean it’s sinking?”

  Rosa stopped to yell something to one of the crew below.

  “Not sinking, but taking water. The pumps, they can keep it out for a while. But we have to fix it. We need some kind of shelter, no waves. And wood. And that, there. Behind that cloud, there’s maybe land. Unknown land. But land with wood.”

  “So we’re going there to fix the Susana?”

  Rosa nodded. He looked right at Sam and asked again, though it wasn’t a real question. “What the hell was it?”

  Sam turned away. The fog bank loomed ahead, a wall of gray at the surface, close, closer, as they left the creature behind.

  And Sam had to wonder, Am I the only person on board wondering what’s inside that bank of fog?

  Am I the only one who’s worried?

  37

  On an uncharted island,

  somewhere in the Indian Ocean

  THE SOUND OF MOVEMENT, and the girl woke up.

  Something outside.

  Last night, she had found a fallen tree, its trunk split open. And the fallen tree made a covering over an indentation, a hollow in the dirt. Enough of an indentation to protect her, so the girl grunted and clawed and pulled herself into the hole.

  Now she was fully awake. She sniffed, maybe smelling what had to be the droppings of the animals that also used this hole.

  But now something was outside the tree trunk, walking around, stalking, perhaps wondering who was in its special hiding place. The space was so low that she had to twist her head to turn to look through the gap to the outside.

  The girl saw legs—thin, green branchlike legs, thinner even than her arm. But they ended in a foot with three large curved claws, and each claw as long as one of her fingers. The claws dug into the ground as the legs moved.

  She tilted her head some more, and she could see other legs, another pair, then craning up, still yet another pair of legs, and behind, even more legs.

  There had to be six, maybe seven of the things outside. They pranced around as if impatient.

  They knew she was there. Maybe they had smelled her.

  Waiting.

  Her breathing became shallow, as if she was trying to be very quiet.

  Then she heard a loud thwack. Something began pecking, hammering at the wood above her. Then at another spot, the same sound echoed, then another.

  Thwack…thwack…thwack…

  The creatures stood on either side, and though she couldn’t see them, what they were doing was clear.

  Pecking, pounding the wood.

  Their beaks chopping at the wood, like the birds high in the trees that worked the wood bark to get at the small insects.

  Like that—only now these animals used their beaks, what must be their big hard bills, to hack at the wood above her.

  She quickly turned left again, the grit of the dirt scratching her face.

  Legs still there, still lifting up and now stamping the ground, claws curling in. So close she could have reached out and touched those clawed feet.

  But then something else…

  Creamy flakes of wood started flying, landing on the ground, landing at the feet of these things. The flakes fell fast as the hacking above her kept up a constant rhythm.

  Flakes falling, building into a pile outside her hole, her hiding place.

  And worse, the sound above her, growing louder, clearer, as their hacking grew more insistent.

  The girl covered her ears, the noise so loud now, so terrible in what it meant.

  And the things outside seemed to know they were close too. They moved faster, changing position, their curved claws clutching at the ground, excited.

  And what would ha
ppen once they were through?

  That would be easy to imagine.

  In a few moments they would have cut through the wooden roof. Their frenzy would grow, and they would begin the last few mad chops at the bark.

  She started crying; death, so vicious and terrible, now so close.

  Then—a new noise.

  A thump, and the thunderous rumble of earth moving.

  Her head still looked left, at her thin view of what was happening.

  She saw the thin legs begin to move, but then a pair flew up—vanished!—only to be followed by the same pair of legs falling to the ground, now severed from whatever head and body it had.

  Then another pair up, and another, only this time, one of the thin-legged creature’s heads fell close to her viewing slit. She could see the bill, like a giant beak, but lined with razor-sharp teeth.

  And she heard the new sounds—

  When they were grabbed by whatever had come, the smaller creatures made a pitiful sound, a high-pitched squeal that hurt her ears.

  The screeching of the creatures continued, even after their severed torsos fell to the ground.

  Then…

  Another foot. But this one…with massive claws as thick as some trees. She saw the gigantic foot step on one of the still-screeching things.

  And then she saw the great head as it lowered, much too big for her to see all of it, leaning down, reaching down to eat one of the carcasses whole.

  The monster stayed there, eating one body after the other, until all she could see outside now was the big creature. Nothing else was left; the area outside had all been picked clean.

  And then the big feet stepped away; the log shook, the ground rumbling with the terrible thunder.

  The animal roared, the sound so deep and long .

  Then it took more steps away. All the other smaller creatures were dead; there was nothing left to eat outside the log.

  So—it moved away.

  It moved away.

  But the girl herself didn’t move again for a long time.

  38

  Atlantic City, New Jersey

  THE AUDIENCE LOOKED UP, shielding their eyes from the blazing sun. Ann was amazed that they could see her against so much brilliance.