Tales of the Wold Newton Universe (26 page)

Uncle Nate, his mother said, had caught up with them on Fifth Avenue and just now was trying to get past the police cordon into the building so he could check on Aunt Thea.

“She must be all right!” young Howller said. “The ape climbed up her side of the building, but she could easily get away from him, her apartment’s so big!”

“Well, yes,” his father had said. “But if she went to bed with her headache, she would’ve been right next to the window. But don’t worry. If she’d been hurt, we’d know it. And maybe she wasn’t even home.”

Young Tim had asked him what he meant by that, but his father had only shrugged.

The three of them stood in the front line of the crowd, waiting for Uncle Nate to bring news of Aunt Thea, even though they weren’t really worried about her, and waiting to see what happened to Kong. Mayor Jimmy Walker showed up and conferred with the officials. Then the governor himself, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, arrived with much noise of siren and motorcycle. A minute later a big black limousine with flashing red lights and a siren pulled up. Standing on the running board was a giant with bronze hair and strange-looking gold-flecked eyes. He jumped off the running board and strode up to the mayor, governor, and police commissioner and talked briefly with them. Tim Howller asked the man next to him what the giant’s name was, but the man replied that he didn’t know because he was from out of town also. The giant finished talking and strode up to the crowd, which opened for him as if it were the Red Sea and he were Moses, and he had no trouble at all getting through the police cordon. Tim then asked the man on the right of his parents if he knew the yellow-eyed giant’s name. This man, tall and thin, was with a beautiful woman dressed up in an evening gown and a mink coat. He turned his head when Tim called to him and presented a hawklike face and eyes that burned so brightly that Tim wondered if he took dope. Those eyes also told him that here was a man who asked questions, not one who gave answers. Tim didn’t repeat his question, and a moment later the man said, in a whispering voice that still carried a long distance, “Come on, Margo. I’ve work to do.” And the two melted into the crowd.

Mr. Howller told Jill about the two men, and she said, “What about them, Grandpa?”

“I don’t really know,” he said. “Often I’ve wondered... well, never mind. Whoever they were, they’re irrelevant to what happened to King Kong. But I’ll say one thing about New York—you sure see a lot of strange characters there.”

Young Howller had expected that the mess would quickly be cleaned up. And it was true that the Sanitation Department had sent a big truck with a big crane and a number of men with hoses, scoop shovels, and brooms. But a dozen people at least stopped the cleanup almost before it began. Carl Denham wanted no one to touch the body except the taxidermists he had called in. If he couldn’t exhibit a live Kong, he would exhibit a dead one. A colonel from Roosevelt Field claimed the body, and, when asked why the Air Force wanted it, could not give an explanation. Rather, he refused to give one, and it was not until an hour later that a phone call from the White House forced him to reveal the real reason. A general wanted the skin for a trophy because Kong was the only ape ever shot down in aerial combat.

A lawyer for the owners of the Empire State Building appeared with a claim for possession of the body. His clients wanted reimbursement for the damage done to the building.

A representative of the transit system wanted Kong’s body so it could be sold to help pay for the damage the ape had done to the Sixth Avenue Elevated.

The owner of the theater from which Kong had escaped arrived with his lawyer and announced he intended to sue Denham for an amount which would cover the sums he would have to pay to those who were inevitably going to sue him.

The police ordered the body seized as evidence in the trial for involuntary manslaughter and criminal negligence in which Denham and the theater owner would be defendants in due process.

The manslaughter charges were later dropped, but Denham did serve a year before being paroled. On being released, he was killed by a religious fanatic, a native brought back by the second expedition to Kong’s island. He was, in fact, the witch doctor. He had murdered Denham because Denham had abducted and slain his god, Kong.

His Majesty’s New York consul showed up with papers which proved that Kong’s island was in British waters. Therefore, Denham had no right to anything removed from the island without permission of His Majesty’s government.

Denham was in a lot of trouble. But the worst blow of all was to come next day. He would be handed notification that he was being sued by Ann Redman. She wanted compensation to the tune of ten million dollars for various physical indignities and injuries suffered during her two abductions by the ape, plus the mental anguish these had caused her. Unfortunately for her, Denham went to prison without a penny in his pocket, and she dropped the suit. Thus, the public never found out exactly what the “physical indignities and injuries” were, but this did not keep it from making many speculations. Ann Redman also sued John Driscoll, though for a different reason. She claimed breach of promise. Driscoll, interviewed by a newsman, made his famous remark that she should have been suing Kong, not him. This convinced most of the public that what it had suspected had indeed happened. Just how it could have been done was difficult to explain, but the public had never lacked wiseacres who would not only attempt the difficult but would not draw back even at the impossible.

Actually, Mr. Howller thought, the deed was not beyond possibility. Take an adult male gorilla who stood six feet high and weighed three hundred and fifty pounds. According to Swiss zoo director Ernst Lang, he would have a full erection only two inches long. How did Professor Lang know this? Did he enter the cage during a mating and measure the phallus? Not very likely. Even the timid and amiable gorilla would scarcely submit to this type of handling in that kind of situation. Never mind. Professor Lang said it was so, and so it must be. Perhaps he used a telescope with gradations across the lens like those on a submarine’s periscope. In any event, until someone entered the cage and slapped down a ruler during the action, Professor Lang’s word would have to be taken as the last word.

By mathematical extrapolation, using the square-cube law, a gorilla twenty feet tall would have an erect penis about twenty-one inches long. What the diameter would be was another guess and perhaps a vital one, for Ann Redman anyway. Whatever anyone else thought about the possibility, Kong must have decided that he would never know unless he tried. Just how well he succeeded, only he and his victim knew, since the attempt would have taken place before Driscoll and Denham got to the observation tower and before the searchlight beams centered on their target.

But Ann Redman must have told her lover, John Driscoll, the truth, and he turned out not to be such an understanding man after all.

“What’re you thinking about, Grandpa?”

Mr. Howller looked at the screen. The Roadrunner had been succeeded by the Pink Panther, who was enduring as much pain and violence as the poor old coyote.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just watching the Pink Panther with you.”

“But you didn’t say what happened to King Kong,” she said.

“Oh,” he said, “we stood around until dawn, and then the big shots finally came to some sort of agreement. The body just couldn’t be left there much longer, if for no other reason than that it was blocking traffic. Blocking traffic meant that business would be held up. And lots of people would lose lots of money. And so Kong’s body was taken away by the Police Department, though it used the Sanitation Department’s crane, and it was kept in an icehouse until its ownership could be thrashed out.”

“Poor Kong.”

“No,” he said, “not poor Kong. He was dead and out of it.”

“He went to heaven?”

“As much as anybody,” Mr. Howller said.

“But he killed a lot of people, and he carried off that nice girl. Wasn’t he bad?”

“No, he wasn’t bad. He was an animal, and he didn’t know the difference between good and evil. Anyway, even if he’d been human, he would’ve been doing what any human would have done.”

“What do you mean, Grandpa?”

“Well, if you were captured by people only a foot tall and carried off to a far place and put in a cage, wouldn’t you try to escape? And if these people tried to put you back in, or got so scared that they tried to kill you right now, wouldn’t you step on them?”

“Sure, I’d step on them, Grandpa.”

“You’d be justified, too. And King Kong was justified. He was only acting according to the dictates of his instincts.”

“What?”

“He was an animal, and so he can’t be blamed, no matter what he did. He wasn’t evil. It was what happened around Kong that was evil.”

“What do you mean?” Jill said.

“He brought out the bad and the good in the people.”

But mostly bad, he thought, and he encouraged Jill to forget about Kong and concentrate on the Pink Panther. And as he looked at the screen, he saw it through tears. Even after forty-two years, he thought, tears. This was what the fall of Kong had meant to him.

The crane had hooked the corpse and lifted it up. And there were two flattened-out bodies under Kong; he must have dropped them onto the sidewalk on his way up and then fallen on them from the tower. But how explain the nakedness of the corpses of the man and the woman?

The hair of the woman was long and, in a small area not covered by blood, yellow. And part of her face was recognizable.

Young Tim had not known until then that Uncle Nate had returned from looking for Aunt Thea. Uncle Nate gave a long wailing cry that sounded as if he, too, were falling from the top of the Empire State Building.

A second later young Tim Howller was wailing. But where Uncle Nate’s was the cry of betrayal, and perhaps of revenge satisfied, Tim’s was both of betrayal and of grief for the death of one he had passionately loved with a thirteen-year-old’s love, for one whom the thirteen-year-old in him still loved.

“Grandpa, are there any more King Kongs?”

“No,” Mr. Howller said. To say yes would force him to try to explain something that she could not understand. When she got older, she would know that every dawn saw the death of the old Kong and the birth of the new.

WOLD NEWTON
PREHISTORY

In this tale of the ancient African civilization of Khokarsa, the mad giant Kwasin has returned to the island of his birth after eight long years of exile and has just escaped from the dungeons of the tyrannical King Minruth. Kwasin is a cousin to the hero Hadon, whose adventures are told in the first two novels of the Khokarsa trilogy,
Hadon of Ancient Opar
(Titan Books, 2013) and
Flight to Opar.
Both Hadon and Kwasin are descendants of Sahhindar, the Gray-Eyed Archer God, who is also the Khokarsan god of plants, bronze, and Time. Readers of Farmer’s Wold Newton novel
Time’s Last Gift
(Titan Books, 2012) will likely recognize from the author’s many hints that Sahhindar is an alias of the time traveler John Gribardsun, who, under yet another alias, was also a certain well-known jungle lord of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. More importantly, Sahhindar/Gribardsun is a prominent member of the Wold Newton Family, whose genetic relationship to Hadon and Kwasin goes a long way to explaining their almost superhuman abilities and deeds. What follows is one of Kwasin’s stranger adventures, which fits chronologically between the first and second chapters of the concluding novel of the Khokarsa trilogy,
The Song of Kwasin,
by Farmer and Christopher Paul Carey.

When Kwasin crawled from the tiny fishing boat and began hauling it up the sandy slope, he did not know he trod upon the City of the Snake. If he had, he thought later, he might have rowed back out to sea as quickly as his great muscles could carry him, eager to face the boatload of Minruth’s sailors headlong rather than risk disturbing the demons and spirits rumored to haunt this place.

But then again, he was Kwasin, defiler of the Temple of Kho. Even the fact that the Goddess had cursed the grounds of these timeworn ruins might not have been enough to give him pause. Still, in his heart, he had never forsaken Kho, even when the oracle had cast him from civilization and doomed him to exile in the Wild Lands. And secretly he knew he could not escape the superstitions of his people. Though Kwasin was as brave and free a spirit as any that walked the land, the folktales instilled in him during childhood sometimes spoke with a voice louder than that of his adult rationality.