Merian C. Cooper's King Kong (22 page)

Abruptly, Kong stiffened, swinging around with a jerk that made Driscoll flatten himself against the stone. Then he realized that Kong had not sighted him at all, but another enemy. The pterodactyl, perhaps attracted by Ann's bright hair, had swooped in again. Kong swept an arm at it, and without looking, he set Ann down behind him.

The flying creature screamed and soared away, then seemed to tilt up, stand still for an instant as it balanced in air on the tip of one outstretched wing, and then began a long plunge downward, plainly trying to attack Ann. Kong moved to block this new adversary. The flying creature apparently was intent on spearing Ann with its long, sharp bill, swooping in for a lightning-quick strike before Kong could stop it.

Driscoll clenched his teeth. The flying monster didn't have a chance—but it offered his first real hope of rescuing Ann. He saw her struggle to her feet behind Kong.

“Ann!” Driscoll risked a loud whisper. She heard him and sprinted toward him. Above her head, Kong seized the body of the pterodactyl. The great wings beat the air with leathery flaps, and the flying monster screeched again.

Ann reached the edge of the platform just as Driscoll dragged himself onto her level. Visibly struggling not to cry out, she gasped, “Jack!”

“I'm here, Ann.” They embraced, but briefly. Kong had killed the pterodactyl. Now he hunched over it, using his teeth to rip gobbets of flesh from the body, wolfing them down.

Ann whimpered. “Don't let him touch me again, Jack.” She wore only tatters of her dress and scraps of her underthings now, and she clutched these rags close to her.

Kong must have heard her. He swung his heavy head toward them, his mouth bloody from his meal. He threw the remains of the pterodactyl over the edge of the rocky shelf and roared. A horrible low, rolling growl rumbled from his chest. The look in Kong's eyes was unlike anything Driscoll had ever seen, had ever imagined. The monster advanced, trapping them at the edge of the cliff.

Cold fear gripped Driscoll. Kong would let nothing stand between him and what he desired. If not for Ann, Driscoll might have stood utterly frozen, but he had to save her. Looking wildly around, he realized that they stood directly above the dark pool—far above it. “Jump!” he yelled, but he gave Ann no choice, pulling her with him. With his arm locked around her waist, they plunged over the edge of the shelf and down, down, toward the black and waiting water.

18

SKULL ISLAND
MARCH 14, 1933

Ann had time to gasp in one deep breath before she and Jack plunged feetfirst into the black pool. The impact jarred her, but the warmth of the water startled her. She had braced herself for a stinging chill, but the pool felt nearly blood-warm, soothing against her scratched, bare skin. She felt Jack close by, tried to swim in his direction. Everything was black, and she had no sense of direction, no idea of which way led up to air, to life.

A hand closed gently on her wrist and pulled. She was rising—at least she was moving—and then an arm wrapped around her waist, and she knew that Jack had her. Her lungs were close to bursting with the urgent need to breathe, but she trusted Jack, gave herself into his keeping. He was scissoring his legs, and she tried to kick, too, helping him as much as she could.

Then, miraculously, her head broke the surface, and she threw it back and breathed, breathed deeply, hearing Jack gasp from somewhere close beside her, panting quickly, deeply. “All right?” Jack's voice shouted. “Ann, are you all right?”

The lightning-streaked clouds had become so thick that even in afternoon, the land lay in a kind of twilight. Ann could see Jack's strained, concerned expression as he trod water. His hair lay plastered to his skull, and streams of water crept across his forehead and down his cheeks.

“Yes,” Ann said when she had breath. “I can swim. Jack, I can't believe you've come!”

“I wouldn't let you get away from me. Do you see Kong?”

“Not yet. He wouldn't jump in, but he'll come down through the tunnel. What will we do?”

Jack jerked his head. “This way.” He swam toward what looked to Ann like a whirlpool, an eddy of water on the far side of the pool. She followed, and from behind them Ann heard the outraged screams of Kong.

“This is a long shot, but a better chance than we'd have at his hands,” Jack said. “Three deep breaths, then dive. I'll hold your hand the whole way.”

Now Ann heard the drumming of Kong's chest, and she knew he was on the ledge, charging toward the pool. “I'm ready.”

“I'll be right beside you. Breathe three times, then dive!”

They both jackknifed and slipped beneath the surface. Ann kicked as hard as she could, sensing Jack driving himself down beside her with the strength of his legs. They were too far from their objective, and they had to rise for air. The instant they did, Ann heard Kong's growl as he threw himself forward to stop them. This time she shouted, “Dive!” They both bent at the waist and slid into the depths again. Ann heard a muffled roar and felt the
whump
of Kong's hand as it thrust into the water, grabbing for them.

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.”