by Joe DeVito
But suction caught them and pulled them beyond Kong’s reach. The strong current swept them ever deeper. The water pressure filled Ann’s ears, made the sinuses in her cheeks creak and sting. Darkness ahead, then dim, gray light. She gave in to the current, no longer swimming but swept along, and she crossed her arms, cradling and protecting her head. Where was Jack?
Ann felt herself pulled into what seemed to be a tunnel, one worn smooth by the passage of water over eons of time. Her right knee banged painfully against stone, but she barely had time to register the jolt before finding herself tumbling in a white spray of foamy water. Jack—where was he? She couldn’t see him anywhere—
The fall ended as she splashed into a churning pocket of roiling water and bubbles, spinning heels over head. This time she popped to the surface like a cork, whirling madly as she drew breath into her tortured lungs. Then the swift current swept her along between two tall, sheer walls of stone.
“Jack!”
Two times, three times, she repeated her shout, turning onto her back to float, briefly lifting her head. In the riverbed, a gloom almost as thick as night had fallen. She could see nothing. She rolled over and started to swim against the current. Fear rose in her again, fear of being alone, but even worse, fear for what might have happened back at the falls. If Jack was hurt—
“Here!” he shouted in her ear. “I’m okay, Ann!”
She felt his arm around her waist again. “Thank God!” she cried, and then was busy treading water. The swift river ran deep here.
“Just what we need,” Jack said. “Follow me!” He struck out downstream, and Ann followed. After half a dozen exhausting strokes, she felt Jack grab her wrist and pull her forward. Something rough, bobbing—a tree trunk, or perhaps just a lightning-blasted branch from a huge jungle tree—floated high in the water, and Ann clung to it gratefully.
“This is the ticket,” Jack said from behind her. “This river leads right back to the Wall, and if we can stay with it, it’s the quickest way back. Kong will be after us, but he’ll have to come overland, through the forest. We must be drifting at ten or twelve knots. We can beat him.”
“Are—are you hurt?” Ann asked.
“Kong made a grab for me just as I made that last dive. Anyway, his nails tore some skin from my scalp, I think. It’s not deep. I’ll do.”
She reached blindly, caressed his face, then felt the cut in the flesh above Jack’s ear. It seemed to be a couple of inches long, and the warmth at her fingertips told her it still oozed blood. She laughed in relief that the wound wasn’t worse. “I owe you a bandage, but I don’t have enough clothes left for a penny doll, let alone a full-grown girl.”
“It’ll keep. I just hope we don’t have to ride out any rapids. Sooner or later this river has to spill into a lagoon, and when we get there, we’ll need to get ashore and hotfoot it back to the village. Until then, hang on tight and don’t worry about your modesty. It’s too dark for me to see anything anyway.”
He pulled her closer to him and impulsively kissed her. She returned his kiss. “Guess you’re my hero,” she murmured.
“I don’t know about that. Well, that one was just because I couldn’t help it. This one is to celebrate escaping.”
The log they rode began to buck and pitch. They clung on desperately. Overhanging trees kept the river channel mostly in darkness, but at intervals the high banks widened and a little light filtered down, along with a driving tropical rain. “I don’t like this,” Ann said.
“If you see white water or hear the roar of rapids, let me know. We’ll have to try to get to shore somehow.”
But luck rode with them. After an endless rushing time, the water suddenly smoothed out, and they felt their speed fade. “The lagoon!” Jack said. “Come on, Ann. Let’s get ashore before some swimming critter decides we’re on the menu.”
They pushed off from the log and breaststroked until Ann felt yielding mud beneath her bare feet. It was thick and miry, and the reeds on the shelving shore clustered like a barrier, but she and Jack dragged themselves out of the water. The day was a little brighter here, but still the hard rain pelted down. “Where are we?” Ann asked.
“Maybe halfway back to the Wall. Lord, I’m tired, but we’ve got to keep going. We’re on the right side of the lagoon, anyway. If we follow the shoreline, sooner or later we’re going to hit the path that Kong broke when he carried you away from the Plain of the Altar. Wish I had—”
“Come on,” Ann urged. “Let’s get away from here before Kong arrives.”
Overhead the clouds began to break. The rain swept away, leaving only a heavy drizzle, and at last they had enough light to navigate by. The riot of insect and animal sounds had broken out again, chirrs and wheeps, raw-throated roars of predators, screams of their prey cut short. They struck an animal trail that led in the right direction and risked following it. Day was getting on, and under the canopy everything fell into green gloom, making it difficult to see. They stumbled along as best they could. Twice they heard the rustle of some large body not far away, and both times they froze in their tracks until whatever it was lumbered away. After an interminable time, an hour or six hours, Ann couldn’t tell, she asked if they could rest.
“Not for long,” Jack said. “A minute or two. If you can’t make it, I’ll try carrying you.”
“You couldn’t do that,” Ann protested.
“I’ll carry you ten miles if I have to,” Jack said stoutly.
They sat on the spongy earth, and Ann leaned against Jack gratefully. She had begun to shiver, not from cold, but in reaction and weariness. Her stomach panged with hunger—she felt famished. All the fear she had felt in the grip of Kong had vanished, but the adrenaline strength had faded with it. Now she trembled despite herself.
Thunder rolled in the distance. “It’s still pouring somewhere,” she whispered.
“I’m glad the storm came,” Jack said. “Might wash out our scent. Ann, I didn’t even ask. Are you hurt? Did that big—”
She touched his lips. “No. It was horrible being in his grasp—I felt so helpless, like a rag doll. But Kong didn’t seem to want to hurt me. He was, well, gentle in a way. Tender, almost. I think he was more curious about me than anything else. He carried me carefully, in the crook of his arm. I don’t know what he wanted with me. I was afraid that—” She broke off, feeling Jack’s arm around her shoulders.
“Forget about Kong,” he said softly.
“I’ll never forget him,” Ann replied slowly. “How could I? I wondered—I wonder still—well, you know what Carl’s always saying about Beauty and the Beast. I can’t help wondering if Kong is all beast, after all. Do you think he’s following us, Jack?”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing. It’s hard to believe that a brute beast would have sense enough to reason out the path we had to take, and we’ve certainly outdistanced him. I don’t know. Maybe he’ll go back to the village, because that’s where he first found you. But he’s as tired as we are, and he has to eat, too. An animal wouldn’t be single-minded. It would put food first.”
“He’s more than an animal, I’m sure of it,” Ann said. In a low voice, she added, “And in a way, that frightens me even more. I’m rested, Jack. Let’s go.”
They hadn’t moved ahead more than a dozen steps when Driscoll suddenly lurched and fell headlong. Ann cried out and groped forward, trying to find him, to help.
“I’m all right! I caught something between my ankles—what do you know!”
“What is it?”
“A rifle,” Jack said grimly. “One of our men must have dropped it here when he was running from—from something. Well, that gives me a little more confidence. Come on!”
Not long after that, they broke into a clearing, and Ann again cried out in surprise at the sight of moving lights, torches, a long way off. “Look there,” she said. “In the distance.”
“I see them. The rescue party.”
“If Kong’s coming—”
&nbs
p; “Let me try something,” Jack said. “I’m going to see if I can signal them.”
Ann realized he was lifting the rifle. He fired one shot, then a second one. Around them the forest fell suddenly silent at the two reverberating reports.
Seconds passed, and then, deliberately spaced, Ann saw three muzzle flashes from the cluster of men far off, followed each time by a distant boom. “They’re three or four miles away,” Driscoll said. “Hope they’ve got enough sense to come back here instead of heading toward the mountain. We’d better move, Ann. Toward the Wall, not toward them. As tired as we are, they can catch up sooner or later.”
“When they do, they’re going to see that I’m underdressed,” Ann remarked.
Driscoll stopped, struggled with something, then said, “Here. This ought to help.” He thrust wet fabric into her hands. His shirt, she realized. Getting into it was a struggle, for it had been almost as badly ripped as her dress, but she managed the feat at last. They staggered on even as she was trying to get her arms into the sodden sleeves, and by the time she had finished with the garment’s three remaining buttons, the heavy jungle again swallowed up the two of them.
Onward, onward, stumbling, clinging to each other for support. From time to time they looked back and saw figures following them, the distance continually dwindling. Jack risked one more signal shot, then said, “I don’t know how much ammo I have. Better save what’s left. We may need it.”
Twilight was coming on, but now they could hear voices behind them. “Jack?” It was Denham, still distant. “Jack, is that you?”
“It’s me!” Jack shouted. “Ann’s with me, safe enough. Make tracks, Denham! Kong will be along before you know it!”
“We’re coming as fast as we can! We got a late start because a big storm hit—lucky for us, I guess. Go ahead and don’t wait for us. We’re lugging an arsenal!”
“Then follow us. Catch up if you can, but I have to get Ann back to the Wall as fast as I can!”
“Go! We’ll be the rear guard!”
A patter of running feet, a ruddy glow, and then Jimmy, the youngest of the rescue party, was there, holding a blazing torch. “Mr. Denham sent me ahead,” he panted. “Said you might want some light.”
“Good thinking on his part,” Driscoll said. “Now we—what was that?”
They all looked back into the gathering darkness. A few hundred yards away, more torches bobbed and wavered, but the sound had come from much farther away. It was a crashing, furious sound, the sound of an enormous body forcing its way through ancient growth.
“Kong!” Ann exclaimed. “It must be Kong!” She saw Jimmy’s face turn pale in the flickering torchlight, but Jack’s expression was resolute.
“We run from here on,” he said doggedly. “Ann, if I fall, you go on. Jimmy, you stick by Miss Darrow, understand? No matter what happens, you get her to the Wall.”
“Aye, sir,” Jimmy said.
They broke into an exhausted, shambling trot. Ann’s mind, numbed by exertion and fear and worry, dulled to everything but the dogged necessity of lifting one foot, swinging it forward, bringing it down, lifting the other. Jimmy and Jack flanked her, each of them occasionally reaching out a steadying hand. Her feet felt raw, and she imagined them cut to shreds, but she fought to run through the pain. They reached a sharply sloping stony path, beside a torrent of water, rain-swollen, raging down in foam and fury. They steadied each other as they made their way down, then plunged into waist-high grasses.
At last Jack cried out, “Look! We made it! Just ahead!”
They had emerged onto the Plain of the Altar. Ahead of them Ann saw a shaft of golden light, streaming from the barely opened gate in the great Wall: torches, she realized, masses of them, shining on the far side, the safe side. “Oh, Jack, we’re safe!” she gasped, and then fell.
Jack scooped her up. Ann was on the verge of unconsciousness, but she thought she heard again that distant crashing, and something else.
The enraged howl, the war challenge of the island’s beast-god, and it was coming—for her.
19
SKULL ISLAND
MARCH 14, 1933
Lumpy saw them first. He had hardly left his perch atop the Wall, hopeless though the vigil seemed, and when he called down, “On deck there! Here they come—and there’s Miz Darrow!” Captain Englehorn felt his heart leap with hope. “Open the gate!” he commanded, and in an instant it was done. “That’s enough!” the skipper shouted when the portals stood open just wide enough to admit two abreast. “Sharpshooters, be ready to give them cover!”
Lumpy and half a dozen others on the Wall with him raised their rifles. Englehorn paced. The natives had offered—something. His grasp of the language wasn’t firm enough, that was the trouble. Something about Wall defenses, but he couldn’t quite get it, and he trusted the rifles more than any savage foolery. In the end, he had persuaded the islanders to keep to their huts. He and his men would handle whatever threat the jungle offered.
Overhead the moon, a little past full, sailed in and out of broken cloud. The sailors on the ground held torches high, ready to offer what aid they could. “Where the devil are they?” Englehorn growled to no one in particular. “What the devil is keeping them?” He couldn’t stand the wait, and he pointed to two men. “You and you, bring your rifles.” The three of them passed through the gate. Englehorn had time once again to marvel at the thickness of the Wall, its width even at the summit like the waist of a beamy schooner. They emerged on the Plain of the Altar, and ahead, Englehorn spied a torch. In its uncertain light three figures stumbled toward him. “Gott sei Dank,” Englehorn breathed, using the language he had not spoken since he had first shipped aboard a British vessel when he was a teenager. He unconsciously reached for his pipe.
* * *
The others caught up as Driscoll half carried Ann toward the safety of the Wall. Denham ran beside him. “Jack! By God, I told them all that if any man on earth could bring Ann back, you were the guy!”
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Driscoll panted.
Ahead of them, Englehorn beckoned. “Hurry, hurry!”
From atop the Wall, old Lumpy’s voice echoed down in an unaccustomed tone of command: “Lively, you mudhens, lively! Can’t you see they’re all wore out? Get ’em inside, lively!”
Driscoll couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Aye, aye—sir!” he croaked. Hands were reaching out, and they helped him and Ann through the open gate. Inside, Denham thrust something into Driscoll’s hand. “You first, then her!” he said.
Driscoll took a long pull of whiskey, then passed the bottle to Ann, who took a quick gulp and pushed the bottle away, coughing. Driscoll’s head was spinning, not from the alcohol, but from sheer exhaustion. With his voice nearly breaking, he said, “I got her. I got her, Skipper.”
“Good man,” Englehorn said. “Everyone inside? Close that gate!”
Lumpy had climbed down from his perch up on the Wall. “Good man, Skipper? Like hell! Great man! We’re proud o’ you, Mr. Driscoll!”
The sailors clustered around Ann, who lay on an improvised pallet of shirts and blankets. “I’m all right,” she insisted, but they would not let her rise. “Jack, make them let me up!”
“Avast, you mugs,” Driscoll said with something between a laugh and a sob. He pulled Ann up and held her close. “Ann’s no weak sister. She pulled through all that like a trooper!”
“Listen,” Denham said, “Lumpy and his marksmen ought to get back to their posts. Kong’s coming.”
“Nuts,” Driscoll said. “He’s miles away. We left him in his lair on Skull Mountain—”
“You heard him out there,” Denham said in a challenging voice. “He’s coming. We’ve got something he wants, and he’s coming to claim it. We have to be ready. Jimmy, I want my bombs handy, you hear?”
“Got half a dozen right here,” Jimmy returned.
“Good. Jack, I know you’re worn out, but now you can take care of Ann. We’ll get you on a boat
and back to the ship, and when Kong does show up, we’ll take care of him. No, don’t say a word! You know me. When I start a thing, I finish it.”
“I’ll take her back to the ship,” Driscoll said. “But as for Kong—”
“The Beast has seen his Beauty!” Denham exclaimed, pounding his right fist into his left palm. “He’ll come, I tell you! Sure, the instinct of the Beast would be to stick to his lair in the mountains, but his memory of Beauty will draw him like a magnet, and when it does—”
Lumpy’s voice cut down through the night, making Driscoll jump: “Kong! Kong!”
“Make sure that gate is barred!” Denham ordered. “You sharpshooters, hold your fire! I’ll take him down with my bombs!”
On the far side of the gate, Kong’s cry of rage resounded through the darkness. An instant later, Driscoll saw the gates themselves shudder, showering down ancient dust, as a great body threw itself against them. “Protect Ann!” he yelled.
“Can’t get a shot at him!” Lumpy shouted. “He’s protected by the overhang!”
“You men get down here!” Englehorn ordered. “Get Miss Darrow to safety!”
Lumpy didn’t need a second order. He led the men down, and they made their way to the protection of one of the smaller walls, where they formed a rifle-bristling phalanx in front of Ann.
Driscoll heard the ominous creak and crack of wood. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The gigantic portals bowed inward, slowly, relentlessly. The gate gave way, inch by inch. Kong must have exerted all his force, all his rage, all his power. Zigzag cracks appeared in the heavy bars, and the gap widened. The patch peeled back and fell away. Kong pounded the top of the door, shattering its wood beams and forcing back the top of the frame, creating a gap big enough for his huge hands to find a purchase.