Kong: Skull Island - The Official Movie Novelization

TWENTY-NINE

In the west, across the heart of the island, the sky was growing light. It was a beautiful sunrise, smearing the rugged horizon and piercing the trees that smothered distant ridge lines and mountaintops. At any other time Brooks might have spent time taking it all in, but he didn’t believe he had any time. It could be that they were already too late.

“What’s taking so long?” he asked for the tenth time.

“The window’s going to close,” San said. “We’re running out of time.” That sentiment had been repeated several times, too. They were both struggling to hold onto reasons to remain where they were. But as the sun rose and a new day began, the reasons were harder to find.

We can’t just leave them! Brooks thought. Neither of them were saying that anymore. Speaking the words shamed him, and guilt was already building, even though everyone else might already be dead. We can’t! He could feel himself wavering. A decision loomed.

San held up her hand, head tilted to one side. Brooks frowned, listening.

He heard a sound like thunder in the distance, even though the sky was clear and cloudless. Then a roar.

A claw of fear scraped down his back, sending ice through his veins.

“They told us to leave at dawn,” San said.

“I know.”

“It’s dawn.”

“I know.”

Another roar echoed out to them, startling aloft a flock of birds from the trees along the shore. There was no telling where the sound had come from. It had sounded far away, but if the thing making that noise was as big as most of the monsters here, maybe it would be able to reach them in the blink of an eye.

“So what are we going to do?” San asked. She and Brooks stared at each other for a beat, because they both knew what had to be done. They’d known since the first smear of colour in the western sky.

Brooks nodded once, and San started the boat’s engine.

If he’d had any sort of plan to begin with, it was in tatters now, so Conrad just ran. Weaver was close behind him, still hefting her camera in one hand. She’d probably die still taking pictures. He didn’t like that thought. If the situation didn’t change rapidly—if he didn’t come up with a plan that involved more than simply running blindly into the jungle—death might visit them all far too soon.

Behind Weaver came the surviving Sky Devils Cole, Mills, Reles and Slivko. Marlow brought up the rear. He was probably fitter than all of them from his many years on this strange island. However fit they were, however fast they could run, there would be no outrunning the Skull Devil.

Conrad also knew that time was ticking. Dawn had come, and although that helped them navigate through the trees, it also meant that their window for getting to the extract point was beginning to close. If San and Brooks had any sense, they’d have already started the boat and sailed north.

Unsure of the direction they were taking, aware that they were throwing caution to the wind in their headlong rush away from the battling creatures, still he did his best to peer through the trees and tangled undergrowth ahead of them. With terrible danger behind them, he didn’t want to run them off a cliff or into a giant rodent’s nest. At least the threat behind was known.

Machete drawn, he hacked through vines and hanging plants, always checking to make sure he wasn’t slicing at the legs of some waiting creature. Spiders scuttled away, but they were only as big as his hand. Snakes coiled around branches around them, but most seemed a normal size. It stood to reason that the island’s ecosystem would not support hundreds of giant beasts, and that those that existed must be rare and long-lived. He had no wish to meet any more.

Spying a clearer space ahead of them, Conrad increased his efforts. Reles and Mills helped him, hacking at hanging vines until they burst through the last of the trees into a wide open space.

“Yes!” Reles shouted, and other voices were raised in delight.

But Conrad’s heart fell. At first glance they appeared close to the ocean, but between them and the sea was a wide, level spread of marshland, stretching left and right for at least a mile. Planted at its centre, halfway between where they stood and open water, was the skeletal remains of a shipwreck, half-buried in the marsh and rusted and rotted away. It lent the whole scene the air of a graveyard, and Conrad wondered how many sad human remains spent a lonely eternity beneath the surface.

“It’s marshland,” he said. “We’ll sink and drown, or get caught and…” He didn’t need to say ‘and what’. They could all hear the fight behind them, and they knew that the warring beasts were coming their way. The ground shook, rippling the surface of a nearby pool of brackish water. Their furious roars serenaded the growing dawn. Trees cracked and snapped, sounding like bomb detonations echoing through the jungle.

They didn’t have very long.

“Terrific, now what?” Weaver asked. She was panting but still in control, and if she was feeling panic she didn’t show it.

“Reles, your flare gun,” Conrad said. The soldier handed the gun and its ammunition belt over without question. Conrad assessed their situation again, taking in everything he could about the location. It was barely a plan, but it was all they had. Conrad checked the gun over, then handed it and the belt to Weaver.

“Get up on those rocks and fire these,” he said, pointing ahead to where a rocky promontory jutted out into the marshland. “With any luck, the extract ship will see us.”

“What about you?” Weaver asked.

Behind them, the battle was drawing close. The tree line shook with increasing impacts, and Conrad knew they had only minutes to act. The soldiers and Marlow were preparing to make a stand, even though rifles and a sword would do nothing against such massive beasts.

Conrad tried to shake the idea that this was all hopeless. Only once in his life had he given up hope, when he’d seen the dead girl Jenny lying at his feet. Never since. He wasn’t about to start now.

“Just run!” he said to Weaver. “We’re armed, you’re not, and you’re probably faster than all of us!”

Securing her camera around her neck she nodded once and then ran for the rocks.

The Skull Devil smashed through the tree line. It seemed even bigger than it had before, none of it hidden beneath a waterline and with dawn’s early sunlight revealing the whole of its grotesque, horrific body. Much of it was snakelike, but with thick legs and heavily clawed feet. Its head was almost amphibian, but scaled and spiked, its mouth wide enough to swallow Marlow’s boat with all of them inside. Its tail whipped from side to side, scoring deep scars across tree trunks. It stood and stared at them, sweeping its head from left to right as it took in the scene. In its gaze Conrad saw an awful malevolent intelligence.

Mills started shooting first, and the others quickly joined in. Even though Conrad knew it would do no good, he started firing as well, aiming for the monster’s eyes.

It stormed towards them. If the bullets did penetrate anywhere, they did not seem to bother the beast. It roared as it came, displaying vicious teeth and a long, forked tongue that whipped at the air, sensing, tasting them. They would hardly constitute a meal.

Conrad had one grenade on his belt. If it came to it, he’d pull the pin seconds before being swept into the monster’s mouth.

He glanced back at Weaver and saw her running along the single spit of land that protruded out into the marsh. She reached the rocky promontory and started scrambling up, looking back over her shoulder but not slowing down. The flare pistol was stuck in her belt. They had to give her as long as possible to give them all a chance.

But Conrad felt hope slipping away. How could they fight such a monster? With bullets and bombs that would barely scratch its thick hide? Even if they still had the flamethrower or the .50 cal, or the barrels of napalm, head-on combat with this beast would be brief and with only one possible outcome.

“Back,” he shouted to the others. “Back!” They ceased firing and ran towards the sea, and already Conrad could feel the soft ground beneath his boots. Areas of higher ground might offer some hope, and yet the beast had come from beneath the lake, and it would surely be as at home in this marshland as anywhere else.

He wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t. Not here, not now. Not while he had a single breath in his body, a single desperate thought in his mind.

“This way!” he shouted, leading them out into the marsh. If they worked their way across the marsh and towards the sea, maybe they could hold it off until the ship arrived.

He glanced across the marsh at the old shipwreck and discarded any notion of heading there. It would offer them scant protection, and once inside they would be trapped. He wondered what had grounded the vessel, what had happened to the crew. Maybe a monster had dragged it ashore, like a spider trapping a meal…

“Cole!” Mills shouted. “Whatcha doing, man? Fall back!” Conrad paused and looked back at the soldiers, only to see Cole standing on dry land and facing down the charging monster.

Cole looked back and locked eyes with Mills. “Live your life,” he said. He turned back and hefted the grenade launcher from his shoulder, crouching and firing in a single movement.

Conrad allowed himself a moment of hope as the grenade smoked towards the advancing beast. One in the mouth would be lucky. One in the eye would be even better. Such an impact might not kill it, but could give them a chance to escape, and might even deter the Skull Devil from attempting to attack them again.

The grenade exploded against the creature’s chest. It reared up, shook its head, then fell onto its front feet again, the foot-long claws sinking into the ground and splashing stinking marsh water into the air.

It roared. Its breath reached them all, stinking like rotten meat and death.

“Come and get me, you bastard!” Cole shouted. He pulled two grenades from his belt, bit out the pins, and ran towards the Skull Devil as it came for him. His aggressive attack brought the monster up short, and for a moment it seemed to pause in puzzlement at this tiny enemy charging it down. Then it lunged for Cole.

It opened its mouth to bite him in half as the first grenade exploded. Cole was blasted to pieces, his head and part of his torso spinning to the right. When the Skull Devil flinched away from the blast and instinctively snapped at the flying piece of meat, the second grenade clasped in the dead man’s hand detonated.

This time Conrad saw the blast light up the monster’s mouth, smoke enveloping its head and shrapnel tearing chunks from its teeth and gums. It roared in agony, but even its mighty voice could not drown out Mills’s shout of despair.

“Noooooo!”

Conrad grabbed him by the shoulder, squeezing hard. They had to take every chance Cole had given them.

“Come on!” he shouted. “We have to move!” They ran across the marsh, finding fewer areas of dry land, moving slower, but still putting distance between themselves and the stunned Skull Devil. As they splashed up to their knees in foul-smelling water, their feet released clouds of stinking methane from the rotting vegetation beneath the water’s surface. At any moment Conrad expected to go in up to his waist or deeper, and then that would be the end of him.

Conrad kept firing. He’d seen a hundred men die in explosions, and he’d been close enough to death—had dealt it himself, many times—to wonder at the moment between being and not being. Seeing Cole blown apart had only made him wonder more.

He turned to face the attacking monster just as it made its killing lunge. The face in his mind at the moment of death was Jenny, not lying dead with her brains blown out, but crying as she reached for him, as if she had lost him and not the other way around.

A boulder smashed into the Skull Devil’s head, knocking it sideways and sending it sprawling into the marsh.

Conrad gasped and stepped back, saved from falling by Marlow who caught him under the arms.

“Look!” the pilot shouted. “Look!” He pointed to their left as Kong thundered from the jungle. The ape ran on all fours, one giant fist clasped around another huge rock. His fur was still smouldering in places, and here and there it was burned away entirely, revealing raw, open flesh. The wounds did not seem to have lessened him at all.

Kong’s face was filled with rage.

He reached the Skull Devil as it was finding its feet, raised the other boulder above his head, and brought it down into the monster’s side with sickening force. Thick hide split and spewed dark blood. The creature howled, high and piercing.

As Kong raised the rock a second time, the Skull Devil twisted its huge snake-like body, whipping its tail around and slamming it across the ape’s chest. Kong staggered back and tripped, falling back into the tree line and releasing the rock. The ground shook as he fell.

The attacker roared in triumph and advanced on the fallen giant.

Conrad knew that he and the others should be using this opportunity to flee. Yet the fight was both awful and fascinating, and he couldn’t help but watch. His feet were rooted to the spot.

Kong grasped a huge tree and hauled himself upright, grabbing the trunk in both hands and tugging it from the ground. He used his momentum to swing the uprooted tree around and smashed it across the Skull Devil’s head. Leaves and mud flew, branches splintered. It fell again, more dazed than before, clawing with its huge feet to drag itself away from Kong and along the shoreline.

Conrad searched for Weaver. She had reached the top of the rocky spit of land, and she did not hesitate for a moment. She pulled the flare gun and fired, launching a bright red light high on a column smoke.

“Come on!” he shouted. “While we can, come on!” The soldiers and Marlow followed him out across the marsh, running parallel to the rocky promontory where Weaver now stood. Conrad could not help glancing back over his shoulder with every few steps, because the balance had changed. He allowed himself hope once again.

Kong was winning. Still grasping the uprooted tree, he was beating the Skull Devil across the head and back, slamming the trunk into its body and driving it further across the marsh with every blow. He took a step between each impact, kicking at the writhing body and pushing it closer and closer to the old shipwreck. Bloody and filthy water surged across the marsh and splashed down like rain. The trunk splintered, turning from a massive club to a deadly spear in the giant’s hands.

“Go on!” Conrad shouted, and it was strange feeling a moment of elation amongst such horror. For the first time he recognised the true wonder in this magnificent beast—a brutal, furious, primeval wonder that he had never witnessed before. He hoped that if they did escape he would never see its like again, but knowing Kong was here would perhaps open up his mind to the world and its stunning potential. Discovering King Kong must be like finding God.

But the devil was here also, and though beaten and bloodied, he was far from down.

The Skull Devil righted itself and rushed Kong, slamming its head into his chest and driving him back and down, both bodies crushing the shipwreck’s remains in a scream of tortured metal and roars of animal pain.

Oh, no, Conrad thought. The monster reared up over the fallen Kong, lifting its tail and poising it above its head like a scorpion’s stinger. Kong tried to roll, but the Skull Devil butted him again, slamming him back down into the shipwreck.

The monster’s tail was long, strong, and tipped with a cruel ivory barb the length of Marlow’s boat. Smashing it down into Kong’s face would surely provide the killing blow.

Machine-gun fire shattered the scene, and .50 cal rounds strafed across the Skull Devil’s midsection, blood flowers bursting from its hide. It shrieked and fell aside, crawling behind the shipwreck and the fallen ape to shield itself from the fusillade of bullets.

Marlow’s boat powered along the coast, San at the helm, Brooks propped behind the mounted .50 cal gun. Conrad didn’t think he had ever been so glad to see anyone.

“Come on!” he shouted. “Get to the water!” He looked up at Weaver and waved, but she was already starting to climb down from the rocks.

“It’s back up!” Mills said.

The Skull Devil was on its feet again, and preparing to rush them. Weaver’s rock was now between it and the boat, so even though Brooks still manned the gun, he didn’t have a clear line of fire.

As the monster took its first step, Kong grabbed its tail and hauled it back. He stood again, letting go and backing away as the Skull Devil turned on him one more time. For a few seconds they circled, sizing each other up and readying themselves for the fight they both had to continue.

The Skull Devil lashed out with its tail, Kong ducked and launched himself forward, and they clashed.

Conrad splashed on as the boat powered in as far as they dared, and soon all but Weaver were within hailing distance of Marlow’s vessel.

“Nice to see you, fellas!” Brooks shouted, still positioned behind the .50 cal and looking for a clear shot.

“Feeling’s mutual!” Marlow shouted. “Hope you’re looking after my boat.”

“Weaver, hurry!” Conrad shouted. He wasn’t sure whether she heard, but she continued scrambling down the rocks, leaping from boulder to boulder with dangerous abandon. She had no choice; Conrad knew that, and she did too. Kong stood between them all and certain death, and this was a race against time.

As Slivko and the others waded out and started climbing aboard the boat, Conrad saw Kong give the Skull Devil a massive kick that sent it reeling. Its tail whipped out and Kong ducked the sharp, pointed end… but then its long mass wrapped around his waist, squeezed, and threw him to the ground. He smashed down onto the shipwrecked boat once again, roaring in pain when he landed. He flailed his arms to right himself, but the ship’s rigging and an anchor chain were tangled around one arm and his legs.

Kong paused for an instant, taking in the scene.

The monster’s sharp tail lashed out again and scored Kong across his hip and stomach. He screamed and tried to grab onto the tail, but it slicked through his hand, flicking out and slashing him across his palm. Blood flew in a rainbow arc.

“Brooks!” San shouted on the boat, and a second later Brooks opened fire with the heavy machine-gun. Bullets streaked across the marshland and stitched the Skull Devil’s back, and as he shifted his aim up towards his head—

—the weapon jammed.

The Skull Devil whirled around and faced the boat. It snarled and hunched down, every inch the devil, blood flowing freely from many wounds, teeth dripping with it, and Conrad knew it was seconds away from its final charge.

“Uh, Marlow, little help?” Brooks said.

Marlow scrambled across the boat to the gun and started tinkering.

“She always was a little temperamental. Hey, Reles, gimme a hand!”

Conrad clung onto the boat’s railing but didn’t pull himself up. He looked across to Weaver, almost at the base of the rock formation yet still too far away. She’d never make it in time.

The Skull Devil was paused now, looking back at the defenceless Kong, then out at the boat once again. It was weighing its options. He sensed that awful intelligence again as it decided which enemy it wanted to destroy first.

It seemed to lock eyes with him as it made up its mind.

“It’s coming,” he said, more to himself than everyone else. He made a decision. He wasn’t certain that it was brave. He’d never considered himself a brave man, but rather someone good at getting the job done. As the Skull Devil splashed through the marsh towards the boat, Conrad let go of the railing and dropped back into the water. He swam as far as he could, crawled quickly back onto the marshy land, and ran away from the boat. He fired several shots at the beast as he went, eager to draw its attention.

It shook its head as bullets pricked above its eyes, then turned to look at him.

“I’ll keep it busy!” he shouted, still running. “You go!” He didn’t hear any response, and did not risk glancing back. He only hoped they’d be wise enough to take the chance he was offering them.

He continued shooting as he went, short, careful bursts that each found their mark. He aimed for its eyes. If he hit them, it did nothing to slow the monster down. It was coming for him. That had been his intention, but now he had seconds to live. He scanned the ground ahead of him, seeing nowhere to hide. He stepped into a deeper area of marsh and went down, gripping the rifle as he went under the stinking water. It flooded into his mouth and he gagged, puking as he struggled to his feet again, running, spitting vomit and rank marsh water aside as he went, firing his pistol back over his shoulder and holding the rifle in his other hand.

He risked one glance back to see the boat cutting through the water away from the shore.

Then a spark of light lit up in the distance, and a flare arced in and struck the Skull Devil on the back of its head.

It skidded to a stop, throwing up a wave of mud and water. As it shook its head and turned around, Weaver fired a second flare that wavered through the air and hit it on the right leg.

Conrad fired a long, sustained shot into the back of its head just below what might have been an ear. His M-16 ran dry and he threw it aside, firing his pistol again.

Past the monster he could see Weaver, halfway between the rock and the shore, feeling across her belt for more flares but finding nothing there. They were both out.

The Skull Devil looked back and forth between them, confused about which one to go for. With so many enemies now almost helpless, it was spoilt for choice.

Conrad fired his last three rounds and it came for him, tail raised and ready to slam him into the ground. He grabbed his last grenade.

From his left, a great shape rose out of the marsh. It was Kong, ripping himself partly free of the wreck, tugging on a heavy chain that still held him down, and then swinging it up and around, the rusted propeller tangled in its end performing a perfect arc into the Skull Devil’s side.

It slashed the monster and flung it sideways across the marsh, smashing into the rock pile Weaver had just left. Its tail flipped around, and Conrad’s breath caught in his throat as he saw Weaver struck and sent spinning fifty feet into the sea.

Her body struck the waves and went under.

“No!” he shouted as the same wave knocked him down. There was nothing he could do. He was too far away, and he couldn’t tell whether anyone on the boat had seen what was happening.

Finding his feet, Conrad started making his way back towards the shore. She would drown before he got there. That, or some unseen beast would rise from the depths and take her away beneath the waves.

All he could do was try.

Kong had also noticed, and Conrad was shocked by the change in the giant ape. His fury seemed to seep away in a flash, and he took a first huge step towards where Weaver had disappeared beneath the surface. He remembered standing atop that ridge and Kong appearing before them from down in the valley, Weaver reaching out and touching his face, and even then thinking that some sort of contact had been made. That connection seemed even more obvious now.

With Kong’s attention distracted, the Skull Devil grabbed the advantage. Ignoring its terrible wounds, it pulled itself upright and charged the ape.

Conrad looked across at the boat, bobbing now closer to shore, and the men trying to fix the machine-gun on its deck. While Marlow struggled to fit a new ammo belt, Reles snatched up a big hammer and gave the gun two heavy whacks that echoed across the marsh.

They paused, then Reles opened fire once again.

The rounds slammed into the charging Skull Devil, driving it back and down. Wounds upon wounds, it seemed at last that the gunfire was having an effect. The monster writhed in the marshy ground, struggling to turn away from the volley of gunfire but succeeding only in presenting its other flank. Reles was a good shot, and very few bullets missed. Conrad could sense that much as the Skull Devil wanted to flee this stinging fusillade, the fight with Kong was a greater draw.

Meanwhile, Kong had taken full advantage of the Skull Devil being incapacitated. With two huge bounds he was at the water’s edge, bending down, reaching into the sea.

Conrad could only stand and watch; amazed and terrified.

The gunfire ceased. Marlow was at the helm now, swinging the boat around and heading back to shore close to where Conrad stood. He was up to his thighs in stinking marshy water, and if the Skull Devil had come for him then he’d have been trapped and helpless.

But he still couldn’t bring himself to move.

Kong brought his hand out of the sea, fist closed. He stood to his full height and opened his fist, staring down into his hand at whatever he held there.

Weaver, Conrad thought. Please let that be Weaver.

And please don’t let him eat her.

The ape seemed mesmerised by the shape in his palm. He was so tall that Conrad couldn’t make out Weaver, but he did see slight movement—an arm raised, perhaps, and the swing of wet hair as she rolled onto her side. Kong brought his hand closer to his face, and it was as if the rest of the world no longer mattered.

That was when the rest of the world bit back.

The Skull Devil charged, screeching and vicious, shedding blood from its countless bullet wounds yet appearing strengthened by them, not weakened. Pain drove it on. Fury gave it an edge.

Kong closed his fist protectively around Weaver and braced himself. Then he ran towards his approaching enemy.

Just before they met, the Skull Devil reared up ready to bite, its long, wicked tail whipping around to slash at the great ape.

Kong had other plans. He brought his heavy fisted hand up and around and slammed it straight into the monster’s mouth. He swung his shoulder, using all his immense weight to shove his fist deep into the creature’s gullet, deeper, further, until his arm was buried in the Skull Devil’s innards right up to his massive bicep.

Kong roared as he withdrew his arm and fisted hand, the beast’s teeth scoring deep lines in his fur.

The Skull Devil swayed on its feet, blood pouring from its open mouth. Then its eyes dimmed and it dropped into the marsh, one last, heavy rattling breath leaving it before its flexing torso grew forever still.

The silence was startling. Kong stood still for a moment, breathing heavily as he stared down at his vanquished enemy. He shoved the carcass with one foot, and again, testing to see whether the monster was feigning.

The Skull Devil was dead.

Kong’s shoulders drooped a little as he stepped over the huge corpse and approached Conrad.

Conrad had to force himself not to step backwards. It would have done no good, but instinct urged him back, the same instinct that would have brought his arms in front of his face if a building were falling upon him. From the corner of his eye he saw the boat bobbing less than fifty feet away, and he was aware of the survivors watching Kong, and him.

He didn’t look. He could not tear his eyes away from the massive beast now standing close to him.

Kong dropped to his knees with a booming splash, sending tremors across the marsh. He placed his blood-soaked fist on the ground, and uncurled his fingers to reveal Weaver lying there, safe and awake in his palm. His fur was caked in blood and gunge from the dead Skull Devil’s insides. His hide was ripped and bleeding, and blood dripped and washed around Weaver. But she appeared untouched. He tilted his fist and she slid to the ground, grunting as she landed and sitting up. She was soaked to the skin, trembling from her cold dip in the sea, but she did not appear scared. She left her hand on Kong’s. As he went to stand and pull away, Weaver held on. Only briefly.

Kong stood. They were in his shadow, perhaps forever. He stared down at them, and they looked up at him, locking gazes for a moment that might have been the longest of Conrad’s life. Then he turned, swaying slightly, and started walking away. He was limping. His vast body was covered in open wounds, and there were also older scars there, marks where the fur had not grown back that illustrated older, more mysterious battles. Conrad wondered at what these battles might have been, and whether the dead beast now sinking into the swamp was responsible for some of those wounds.

None of them had any idea how old Kong might be, or what ancient combats he might have fought. His was a history that remained shrouded in the mists of time, and Conrad believed that was as it should be, just as with any god, or any legendary king.

Conrad ran over to Weaver and grabbed her hand, helping her to her feet. Neither of them spoke. There were no words.

They watched Kong splashing across the marsh and then approaching the tree line. Weaver pulled away and grabbed at her camera bag, drawing a camera out and checking it, wiping the lens, aiming it at Kong.

He paused close to the trees and turned back, looking at them one more time.

What’s he thinking? Conrad wondered. Is he as amazed at us as we are at him? He doubted that. He thought perhaps King Kong was the most amazing creature on their planet, known or still hidden away.

Weaver lowered her camera without taking a shot.

“No Pulitzer?” Conrad asked.

“Maybe some things are better left as myth,” she said, echoing his thoughts. Her voice sounded shaky. He took her hand again and squeezed, and they both took comfort from the contact.

They watched Kong as he walked into the jungle, trees shaking at his passage and then closing behind him. They could make out his route for a while, and then all grew quiet. Even then they continued watching. To move would be to move on. Despite all the horrors, neither of them wanted wonder to leave them behind.