Kong: Skull Island - The Official Movie Novelization

THIRTY

Later, they finally left the river estuary and headed out into the open ocean. The boat was hardly seaworthy, but it held together reasonably well. They took turns operating the manual pump, and Marlow stood proudly at the helm. Weaver thought he looked like someone going somewhere special, as well as leaving something behind. He’d be forever existing in two worlds. Perhaps they all would.

Weaver sat alone on deck, looking ahead but thinking back to those moments when she’d believed she was going to die. The Skull Devil’s tail had sideswiped her and sent her spinning through the air, consciousness wavering from the impact. If she’d landed on land she would have died, and even landing in the sea had felt like hitting solid ground.

A heavy impact, the breath knocked from her, and the gagging, cloying taste of sea water filling her mouth and rushing down her throat.

From there, it felt like a dream. She was sinking, darkness closing around her as shadowy shapes wavered at the edges of her perception. Perhaps they had been long sea weeds, or maybe the eager, welcoming embrace of a creature on the seabed waiting for this imminent taste of something new.

Then darkness closed around her and pulled her up and out of the water. She hardly remembered any of what followed. From what Conrad had told her, she was glad. It was the sunlight that welcomed her in again, as Kong’s hand opened to reveal Conrad standing twenty feet away, the blue sky above him, Kong’s warm, protective hand beneath her.

She hadn’t wanted him to let her go. She’d held on. But Kong had known the truth—they were from two different worlds, and even though he’d saved her, they belonged far apart.

Sailing away from the island, she realised the deep truth of that. It was difficult leaving something so amazing behind.

She looked around at the other survivors—San, Brooks, Mills, Slivko, Reles—and saw the same look in their eyes. They had all been offered a glimpse at something remarkable. Through the horrors they had witnessed, despite the death that had circled them and taken many of their friends, they all understood how privileged they were.

At the helm, Marlow was holding the tattered photo of his wife. Conrad rested a hand on his shoulder. Two good men, and as Weaver raised her camera and framed a shot, Conrad looked down at her.

“What do you see?” he asked.

“A face tells a story,” she said.

He smiled. “So, did you get the shot? The one that’s going to change the world?”

“One image of Kong and this place would be overrun by government and soldiers. This world, this one here, doesn’t need changing. The one out there is another story.”

“Word will get out,” Conrad said, quieter, looking around at the other survivors. “It always does.”

“Not from me,” Weaver said.

Ahead of them the storm loomed, surrounding the island and all but hiding it from the outside world. They were heading for a break in the storm, and she knew that there were rough seas ahead. She also knew that they would make it through. They had all come too far, and seen too much, for the sea to take them now.

While Marlow braced himself at the helm and prepared to ride the first of the waves, Weaver put her hand in her camera bag and felt the film cartridges. They were all ruined, damaged by sea water despite their packaging. She wasn’t even sure why she was keeping them. At any other time the loss would have devastated her, but not now. Now, she didn’t mind. She’d already decided that the ring of storms they were approaching was there for a purpose.

Skull Island was a wild place set apart from the rest of the world. It and its inhabitants, both human and inhuman, deserved to be left alone.

Weaver would not be the person to break its secret.