Merian C. Cooper's King Kong

by Joe DeVito

  15

  SKULL ISLAND

  MARCH 13, 1933

  What was at first a vague ache became a sharp pain, shocking Ann Darrow back to consciousness. The split branch held her in an uncomfortable grip. At first she saw only the bole of the tree, and above that a glimpse of sky. For long, foggy moments she had not the dimmest idea of where she was or even of what had happened to her. She was aware of being bruised and shaken, and a pall of fear lay heavy on her, but beyond that she could not organize her thoughts. Lingering on the edge of unconsciousness, she lay absolutely still, trying to gather her strength, remembering a vivid dream.

  In the dream, Ann could feel the warm press of Jack’s lips on hers, and the strength of his embrace made her feel completely safe. But now—groggy, Ann shaded her eyes with a hand against the overpowering light. Gradually, she became aware of the throbbing pain in her back and legs. The dank smell of rotted wood and steaming jungle vegetation filled her nostrils, while a thousand rioting insect sounds assaulted her ears.

  Her uneasiness began to give way to terror. She forced herself to sit up and her head began to spin, not only because of weakness but also because of a shocking realization: she was thirty or more feet off the ground, perched in the broad notch of a once mighty tree. It was old and gnarled, and felt solid enough to have been rooted there forever. She was utterly alone. How could she possibly have gotten here?

  Slowly, like the slithering, buzzing, chirping noises that had crept into her ears, memory began to steal back as well: Ann remembered screaming, screaming as loud as she could to block out some unimaginable horror … she fell back and the clouds whirled above her.

  Abruptly, Ann sat bolt upright as the clear memory of Kong filled her mind. She remembered his hot, stinking breath in her face as he gazed upon her with a look that she could not describe. It was intelligent, almost human, but not quite. It was indescribably primeval. And that sent chills up her spine: realizing that it wanted her!

  She gripped the tree on which she rested, looking hopelessly downward. The thick bole of the tree trunk soared bare and smooth from a tangle of dark underbrush, offering no handholds, no branches, no way down. But where was Kong? Why had she been left high up in a tree? Would the monster come back for her?

  Her blood chilled at the thought. Nothing on earth seemed worse than such a fate. Her eyes darted nervously in every direction. She felt naked and vulnerable with nowhere to hide, nowhere to flee. Jumping from her perch would be suicide, and climbing down was impossible. She tried to calm herself, her heightened tension making her forget her aching limbs.

  And then the sounds of the jungle sank to a tense silence. She heard a low rumble, then saw a huge, shadowy form that separated itself from the surrounding jungle and became horribly real. It moved like a bird, but on a grotesquely gigantic scale. An ammoniac whiff assaulted her nostrils. The creature’s huge head slowly bobbed on a powerful neck. The deep-chested body was horizontally balanced on two heavily muscled legs, and behind the beast trailed a thick tail, held several feet off the ground.

  Ann could sense a majesty about this animal, an aura of irresistible power. She felt like nothing in its presence, and in unconscious awe she covered her mouth with both hands. At her sudden movement the creature’s head swiveled about, homing in on Ann. It looked directly at her.

  She tried not to move, but her chest heaved, and her body trembled. The meat eater’s lip curled on one side. Light glinted off teeth like huge, recurved daggers, gleaming with thick, ropy saliva. Its deep-set eyes fixed on her. A growl rolled into a slow hissing roar, and its mouth gaped into a toothed maw large enough to swallow her whole. Slowly, it rose to its full height and arched its neck. Despite her height in the tree, Ann could swear it was looking down on her! Suddenly the meat eater hunched back down and advanced toward her. She could feel the vibrations of its pounding feet through the tree trunk, and her screams filled the air as it loomed ever larger.

  From somewhere behind, Kong hurtled past her toward the advancing dinosaur. The two behemoths collided with a heavy, cracking thud, both giving voice to deafening roars. Kong’s back and arms strained to overcome his equally powerful opponent. Ann could not hear herself screaming, though her throat ached from the effort. She covered her ears to block out the thunder of combat.

  * * *

  The giants separated and stared each other down for an instant. Each refused to give way; each was unaccustomed to being resisted. Kong arched his broad back and rose higher than Ann’s perch. He beat his chest in defiance. The great saurian bobbed for a moment, feinting to one side, and then pressed an attack with the swiftness of a striking snake, mouth gaping, teeth flashing.

  Knowing that even one bite from that mouth could be lethal, Kong moved swiftly to the side, and the predator’s jaws snapped on thin air. Kong’s tremendously powerful arms clamped on the creature’s head, holding the jaws shut. The dinosaur’s two wiry arms dug like steel meat hooks into Kong’s thickly furred wrists. Its neck strained against Kong’s might, jerking the great ape’s entire body from side to side before lifting him off his feet. Suddenly the dinosaur raised one of its legs and used its clawed foot to rake Kong’s back. Kong growled in frustration and pain as he lost his grip.

  As the meat eater reared back to gain leverage for another bite, Kong lunged forward, grasping his foe under the head with one arm and pounding with the other on its ribs with sledgehammerlike blows. Kong, infuriated by the wound on his back, relentlessly pressed his attack. His clouts forced the flesh eater to take several jerky steps backward, all the while hissing and growling as its jaws snapped constantly. It tried in vain to angle its mouth down to get at any part of Kong’s back.

  And then with one mighty shove Kong sent the saurian reeling backward. It lost its balance and collapsed on its side. Getting up was not easy for such a giant, and its body and head flailed in an effort to regain its feet. The beast-god stood over his fallen challenger and pounded his chest. Kong’s enormous canines glistened in fury. But such tactics would not intimidate his opponent. The creature lashed out with teeth and tail, answering Kong’s challenge with a deafening roar of its own.

  Realizing the defiance of his enemy, Kong abruptly rushed forward again. The flesh eater, only halfway back on its feet, fell heavily onto its side as Kong rained more blows upon its body. Finally the saurian managed to wedge a huge three-toed foot between its own body and Kong’s chest and kicked with all its might. The thrust flung Kong off his feet, and he tumbled backward. As he landed on his heels, the momentum sent him sprawling uncontrollably into the great trunk atop which Ann sat.

  * * *

  Ann held on desperately as the ancient trunk suddenly cracked, the deep roots creaking as if groaning in pain. Slowly, the tree began to topple. Ann clung tightly as the trunk smashed into the undergrowth. The impact jarred her loose and she rolled into springy, thick brush that cushioned her landing. A heavy, short spike of branch had thrust itself into the earth and now kept the entire weight of the trunk from crushing her like an insect. A rush of adrenaline helped keep Ann lucid. She still had a ringside seat, only now she was on ground level and the two combatants loomed above her.

  The chest of each giant heaved as each took the other’s measure and gathered strength. Kong broke the standoff first, lunging in an attempt to attack his opponent’s side again. The saurian spun in an instant, its tail slamming Kong hard across his midsection. Kong caught it but the impact buckled his knees and he roared in fury. The meat eater then frantically tried to shake him off, but Kong held on.

  Good, Ann thought. As long as you have his tail, his jaws can’t reach you! She realized that as terrifying as Kong was, he had not hurt her. She knew the meat eater would not be so inclined.

  Ann sensed that Kong’s strength was returning, and while holding the base of the tail with one arm, he mercilessly hammered the narrow hip area of the dinosaur. The creature writhed in pain as it jerked in all directions. Finally, one of the great beast’s leg
s gave way and it landed hard on its knee. Ann heard the loud snap of its thighbone and winced at the sound. Kong let go, and the creature gave out a deep-throated growling hiss. Its sudden inability to stand on two legs forced it to roll painfully onto its side, its one free leg stabbing wildly at the air.

  Ann knew the end was near. Kong gave no quarter, and as his tiring adversary attempted to rise, he scrambled onto its back. From behind, he grabbed its head, and twisting its skull with both arms, he forced it to roll agonizingly back down to the ground. Kong quickly maneuvered atop the writhing beast and again wrenched its neck. While leveraging his weight atop the gasping creature, Kong managed to free one arm. Again and again, he smashed his fist against the head of his foe. He shattered enough of its teeth to gain a grip with both hands between the gaping jaws. The monster writhed and hissed as Kong pulled with all his might in an attempt to rip the jaws apart. The dying predator made a last futile attempt to shake Kong loose with a twist of its neck, but it was no use.

  Kong’s shoulders knotted in effort. Ann screamed as she saw the dinosaur’s jaws finally yield. With a sickening crack, the joints gave way. Kong grabbed the upper jaw, twisted it, and pushed down with all of his might, breaking the beast’s neck.

  At last it lay twitching in its death throes: reflexive jerks, then random shudders, slower, slower. Kong stepped back and grunted. He then advanced and quizzically manipulated the limp lower jaw before dropping the head to the ground. The form lay still. Kong prodded it. No movement. With a growl, he pounded with both fists on the prostrate dinosaur. Nothing.

  The island’s king threw back his head and, while beating his chest, gave out a triumphant shout that shook leaves from the surrounding trees. He stopped and then repeated his victory cry.

  Ann covered her ears as she stared up at him. As soon as Kong stopped, he swung his arms slowly at his side and breathed heavily. He then turned to gaze down and make direct eye contact with her. She saw his hand reach for her. Every nerve in her body tingled. Trapped beneath the ancient trunk, her emotions overtaxed, Ann screamed one last time and lay still.

  * * *

  From fifty yards away, standing on a ledge in the near side of the ravine, Driscoll had seen the whole battle. He felt an agony of concern when the tree collapsed, wondering what had become of Ann. Now he saw Kong lift her limp form from the ground, hoist her to his shoulder, and turn away from the fallen dinosaur. Kong carried Ann like a doll out of the clearing and down the far slope.

  Driscoll sensed a clear purpose in Kong’s movements. He felt sure the creature was headed for the lair he had not been able to reach before. Now, no longer fretted by the pesky small men who had trailed him from the altar, safely past the morass into which the triceratops had driven him, and secure from the hungry pursuit of the meat eater, Kong seemed intent on bearing his prize home.

  Driscoll climbed to higher ground, tracing Kong’s progress through the brush by the disturbance the huge creature created, by the sudden bursts of birds from the foliage. He was sure Kong was keeping to a straight line and not moving very fast. He felt equally sure that he could follow the creature. He looked around, angrily wondering where the devil Denham could be. Almost at the same moment he heard a sharp whistle from farther along the rim of the ravine. Driscoll headed for it and soon saw a grinning Carl Denham on the far side of the chasm, holding a coil of vine rope.

  Denham held it up and shook it. “I got this ready while the fight was going on!” he shouted. “I figured that if those two killed each other, you could get to Ann, and I could toss you an end of this, and together we could do something.”

  For the first time since he had left the village Driscoll felt a surge of the old affection for his employer. Whatever else he was, visionary artist, obsessed professional, crazy risk taker, Carl Denham was a man to depend on. He could get a friend into plenty of trouble, sure, but he’d never stop trying to get him back out.

  Driscoll yelled, “That stuff may come in handy yet. Throw me one end!”

  It took three tries, but finally Driscoll caught the end of the rope. He made it secure to a sturdy tree trunk, and he had Denham tie his end off in a similar fashion. “There, now you’ve got a way across, if you can find anybody foolish enough to come with you. You shove off back to the village. Arm a party and come back here.”

  “I hate like hell to leave you, Jack.”

  “What else can you do? The two of us could trail Kong, but what would we do when we found him? We’ve got to have some of your gas bombs to bring him down. You go get them. I’ll mark the trail from here. We’ve still got a chance to save Ann.”

  “I guess that’s the only way.”

  “You know it is.”

  “Okay, Jack. Good luck!” Denham grinned and waved.

  With a grimace, Driscoll returned the wave. “See you later. Maybe.”

  Denham laughed, then turned on his heel and began to jog back toward the village. Driscoll crossed the clearing, where scavenger flying things, vulturelike but reptilian, had already landed on the body of the fallen dinosaur. They squawked and clattered and tore at the flesh. More wheeled in, and from the edge of the ravine a lizardlike creature more than six feet long appeared, its sharp head lifted, scenting death. The creatures paid no attention as Driscoll passed them by.

  Driscoll followed the track of Kong down the slope. As he had expected, he found the trail easy to trace. He hurried along, and before many minutes had passed, he heard a crashing in the brush far down the hillside. Kong was moving deliberately, no longer aware of being trailed.

  The screeches of the scavengers faded as Driscoll followed as fast as he dared. He forgot about the horrors he had left behind, the hungry things in the ravine, the fallen monster, the scavengers. Driscoll thought only of the dark enemy ahead, the huge and savage Kong.

  16

  SKULL ISLAND

  MARCH 13, 1933

  Denham ran for a hundred steps, then fell into a fast walk for a hundred more. Then more running, more walking. Alone and knowing the lay of the land, he made better time than the rescue party had on the way out. He crossed the stream before it widened into the lagoon, followed its edge, and eventually found the rushing stream that had cut the steep channel through the precipice. Denham scrambled down and then broke through waist-high brush as he made a beeline for the Plain of the Altar. Night was coming on fast, and what had at first looked like low, ruddy stars became the flickers of torches high upon the Wall. Enough daylight was left for Denham to see that the figures holding the torches were not natives, but Englehorn’s crew, with the only exception being what looked like an old woman leaning on a staff taller than herself. Denham was too far away to see her face, but her posture showed that she was watching intently, gazing out across plain and forest. She moved, and Denham thought she might have said something.

  Then a voice rang out from a structure atop the Wall, one as tall in itself as a single-story house: “Ahoy, Denham!”

  Denham released a long-held breath in relief at recognizing Englehorn’s strong voice. He snatched the white cap from his head and waved it in acknowledgment, and the red torches blurred as the sailors returned his salute, breaking into an excited gabble. Denham could make out nothing but his own name, and once someone asked a sharp question that ended in “—Miss Darrow?” Denham sagged in relief, recognizing young Jimmy’s voice.

  Englehorn beckoned Denham forward, and as the exhausted director took his last few stumbling steps toward the Wall, the huge gate began slowly to swing open, just wide enough for him to pass through. Hands reached to help support him, tugged him into the sheltering safety behind the Wall, and he heard the gates slam closed behind him, heard the rasp as the gigantic wooden bars slipped home. For a few moments Denham stood panting at the center of a circle of men, struggling for enough breath to speak. Then Englehorn was at his side, getting an arm around Denham’s sagging shoulders. “I’ve got you,” he said. “Can’t you men see he’s done in? Help me with him.”

>   Denham made a feeble protest, but the sailors all but carried him to a log bench. He sank gratefully down, aware as if for the first time of the aches in his knees, his back, his lungs. He ruefully reflected to himself that he was no longer a young man, though he had forced himself to a speed few younger men could have matched.

  “Hey, Denham, where’s Mr. Driscoll? Where’re all the others?” Jimmy demanded.

  Englehorn turned on the man. “Don’t worry about that!” he snapped. “Get him some whiskey and some food. And secure the gate so it doesn’t open again!”

  “No,” Denham said with a gasp. “We’ll be going through the gate again. Anyway, if Driscoll gets back with Ann, he’ll want to come through that gate in a hurry.”

  Englehorn leaned close, and in a low voice asked, “Where is Driscoll?”

  “And Miss Ann?” Denham recognized this voice, too: old Lumpy.

  Englehorn shook his head at Denham and said, “Let all that wait until he’s rested. Where’s that whiskey?”

  Someone handed Denham a bottle, and as he tilted it back and let the fiery liquid pour into his throat, he closed his eyes for a moment. After that one gulp he handed the bottle back to the sailor who had offered it. His head was clearing now, and he saw how the men in the torchlit circle were studying him fearfully, taking in his ripped and muddy clothing, his cut and bruised flesh, his sagging, weary face. He sensed they waited with dread to hear whatever fearful story he had to tell. “Morgan and Jimmy both made it back all right?” he asked.

  “Just minutes ahead of you,” Englehorn told him. “Morgan’s taken a launch back to the ship to bring more bombs. I was just about to get up a new party. Where are the others?”

  “Tell you later,” Denham said, not willing to add to the men’s fears.

  “Want to get back aboard the ship?” Englehorn asked in a voice that only Denham could possibly hear.

  Denham wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shook his head. “No, but I could use some grub if there’s any handy.”