by Joe DeVito
“I hope that ape is really tied tight,” Lyons mumbled.
The reporter with him shook his head. “Got to be. Denham wouldn’t take any chances, not with a dame like that at his side. She’s a gold mine.”
A few of the photographers raised their cameras, but Denham waved them off. “Not yet! The overture’s almost over. Get over to the wings, and I’ll call you out in a minute!”
The press crew retreated, slowly. Driscoll took Ann’s hand. It was cold.
“Chin up,” he whispered to her.
“I wish I were back in my hotel room,” Ann returned. “It’s nine blocks away!”
Driscoll grinned. “Denham booked me into the one right across the street.”
“Too close for comfort,” Ann said.
The music swelled to a climax, and Denham gave them a wave and a wink. He parted the curtains and stepped before them. Driscoll could hear the murmur of a packed house die down expectantly, and then Denham’s voice boomed out: “Ladies and gentlemen!”
In the cage, Kong moved restlessly, jangling his chains. Driscoll felt Ann shiver. He put a protective arm around her waist, and she leaned against him.
Denham’s voice rolled on: “I am here tonight to tell you a strange story—so strange that no one would believe it. But seeing is believing, and we—my associates and I—have brought back the living proof of our adventure, and you will see this proof with your very eyes! It was a terrible struggle, and in it twelve of our party met grisly deaths. Driscoll heard the newspapermen muttering: “Twelve? I heard nine!”
“No, twelve. I talked to an old sailor named Lumpy, and he gave me the names.”
“What happened to them?”
Evidently Denham couldn’t hear the whispering, because he forged ahead: “You will be in no danger, ladies and gentlemen! Now, a little later, you’re going to see some film tonight—not a finished movie, but shots of the most incredible animals the world has ever known, just a taste of what will come later.
“But before I tell you any more, ladies and gentlemen, I am going to let you look for yourselves. Prepare yourselves for the greatest sight your eyes have ever beheld! One who was a king and a god of the world he knew, but now he comes to civilization a captive, an exhibit to gratify mankind’s insatiable curiosity.
“Ladies and gentlemen, look upon Kong, the Eighth Wonder of the World!”
Driscoll squinted as the curtain rose, spilling in the blinding glare of six dozen spotlights. Only dimly could he see the audience, packed tight, leaping to its feet, erupting in astonished shouts, gasps, frightened stifled cries.
Denham stepped back, his arm raised theatrically, smiling a showman’s triumph. In the cage, Kong stood, the chains jangling as his head swept back and forth, surveying the scene before him.
Carl Denham held out his hand, and Ann took an unsteady step toward him. Nearly shouting to be heard, Denham said, “Please! Now, ladies and gentlemen—please, silence for a moment—and now I want to present to you the most courageous woman I’ve ever known, the heroine of our story, the Beauty who lured the Beast! She has lived through an experience, my friends, unlike anything any woman ever dreamed of, and she has come back to tell you about it! Please welcome the newest star of Carl Denham Productions, Miss Ann Darrow!”
Uncertainly at first, then with growing enthusiasm, the audience applauded. When the tide of sound ebbed, Denham waved Driscoll forward. Driscoll, feeling hot and more and more uncomfortable, looked out stony-faced as Denham continued: “And with her, ladies and gentlemen, with Ann Darrow, is Mr. John Driscoll, the bravest man I’ve ever known! The first mate of the Wanderer, John—Jack as we know him—had the courage to trail Kong to his lair, to rescue Miss Darrow, and to stand at my side to defeat this mighty foe and bring him in chains to New York! Ann Darrow! Jack Driscoll!”
Again applause washed over the stage. Driscoll felt sweat crawl down his face.
Denham gestured again. “Now, in a moment I’ll tell you the whole story, and you’ll see some astonishing movie footage. First, though, the gentlemen of the press have requested some photographs, and here they come, out on stage. You, the first civilized audience to see Kong, will please kindly bear with us while we take the first photographs of Kong.”
The newspaper crew spread out, and sure enough, Driscoll noticed, Lyons pushed forward and grabbed an ideal vantage point. Denham beckoned Driscoll and Ann close to the cage, and Driscoll felt Ann trembling. “Stick it out,” he whispered to her. “It’ll be over in a couple of minutes.”
Denham took Ann’s hand and Driscoll backed away. Behind them, Kong looked down, his lips moving, his eyes blinking. The flashguns popped, and Kong started, rattling his chains.
“Now you, Jack. Come on. Pose with your fiancée.”
Unwillingly, Jack followed Denham’s direction. He put his arms around a shivering Ann and stood while the flashguns went off again.
Behind him, the chains jangled and, unexpectedly, Kong roared. Driscoll pulled Ann away, and in the auditorium the audience leaped from their seats. Denham, though, seemed to be ready for this. He shouted, “We heard that challenge on Skull Island, ladies and gentlemen, and we met the challenger and defeated him! You’re perfectly safe! The cage and chains are made of chrome steel! Kong will stay where he is!”
“Get some shots of that,” one of the reporters said.
Driscoll and Ann backed away. Kong was on his feet, his muscles straining, pulling at the chains that restricted his movements. No longer roaring, he growled, a deep, resentful, reverberating sound.
The flashes went off once more. Then the photographers turned and aimed their cameras at Ann and Jack again. “Close-ups,” one of them explained. “Ready? Big smile—for the society page!”
The flashguns flared, and Kong’s roar, frenzied and angry, rolled out like thunder. Denham pushed forward. “Stop it! Holy mackerel, he thinks you’re attacking Ann! Hold it! Hold it!”
With a cataclysmic effort, Kong reared. His head struck the top of the cage and jarred it loose. For a moment, Driscoll didn’t understand, and then he saw that Kong’s struggles had broken the chains holding his arms. A few links still dangled from the manacles, but he now had the freedom to stand, to use those mighty hands.
Kong reached down and seized one of the chains securing his feet. He wrenched it free, ringbolt and all, and then the other one. He broke the waist restraint, and now the steel bars of the cage were all that held him.
Panic threw the audience into a shouting frenzy. People shoved, fell, clambered over the backs of seats trying to get away from the stage.
Driscoll swept Ann into his arms and broke through the crowd of startled newspapermen. He raced down the corridor, through the stage door. Behind him he heard the tortured screech of bending steel. “Come on,” he said. “Across the street, to my hotel!”
“Put me down,” Ann gasped. “We’ll go faster if I can run!” Driscoll set her down, and without any hesitation, Ann ripped the expensive gown, freeing her legs. They rounded the corner and threw themselves into the revolving door of the hotel.
Driscoll heard screams and looked over his shoulder. Kong had beaten down the doors of the theater and, stooping, burst out onto the sidewalk, snarling in rage. A policeman drew his pistol and emptied it, to no avail. Kong made his way toward the hotel lobby.
But Driscoll had thrust Ann into an elevator. The doors mercifully closed before Kong had crossed the street.
21
NEW YORK
JUNE 30, 1933
Behind the locked door of Driscoll’s room, Ann sank upon the bed, visibly shaking. “I can’t stand it, Jack! It’s like a horrible dream—like being back there—on the island.”
Jack felt the same way, but for Ann’s sake he forced himself to give her a reassuring smile. “We’re safe here. I won’t leave you, honey. They’ll get him. It’s only a matter of time. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Jack was amazed at the strength in Ann’s thin arms as she em
braced him and sobbed on his shoulder. With a more genuine smile, he patted her shoulder. Then he turned his head, hearing an excited female voice, high and nasal, coming from the next room. “Sounds like Denham’s caused the most excitement this old town has had in years.”
Ann wiped her eyes. “I’m not surprised at that. No one could have—”
The voice next door grew even louder and more agitated, and now Jack could tell the woman was on the phone. Her voice blared with the intensity and clarity of someone in the early stages of a drinking binge: “Yeah, Johnny! It’s Mabel. You bet I’m glad you’re back. After last week I thought I’d never hear from you again. I can’t believe I actually did that.… Talk louder, Johnny! There’s fire engines going by.… You want to what tonight? Talk louder!”
Jack turned his head. The drone of sirens came from the streets below, insistent and drawing nearer by the moment.
“We ought not to eavesdrop like this,” Ann said.
Jack leaned back and grinned. “I don’t think it’s our fault, honey. Mabel must not know how her voice carries. She could almost talk to old Johnny without a telephone, couldn’t she?”
They could both clearly hear Mabel through the door as she raised her voice even higher, as though she were talking over the uproar of a boiler room: “You just wait until you see me in my new outfit.… All right … Sure, I’ll be there.… Say, when did I ever break a date with you, Johnny boy? Besides that time … Oh my God!!! Johnny! Jo—No!” The last word became a rising, piercing shriek. A sound of shattering glass, and then the woman’s voice became a glissando of terrified screams, fading in a cascading echo coming not from the neighboring room but through the slightly opened window.
Ann leaped from the bed, her eyes wide, fixed on something behind Jack. She threw an arm across her eyes.
Driscoll jumped up, too, but barely had time to turn around as the window behind them blew in with the force of a typhoon. The musky stench of the matted hair on Kong’s enormous hand flooded into the room as the giant creature reached through the empty window frame. Kong’s nightmarish visage filled the window across the room. His eyes blinked and leered at Ann.
Driscoll picked up a heavy wooden chair and attempted to strike Kong’s treelike arm. Kong must have noticed him, and flicked his arm in a side-sweeping arc with enough force to send Driscoll flying into a wall. The jolt brought an electric flash of yellow light, and that dissolved into a gathering darkness. Jack tried with all of his might to stay conscious as he slowly sank to the ground. Before his world went black he could see a long shadow envelop Ann.
* * *
Ann fainted dead away as Kong’s hand closed on the bed, jerking it toward the window before finally lifting Ann gently through. Kong cradled her in one arm with that curious care he had shown her on the island and climbed higher into the night.
He had learned on the island that height meant security. Now he strove for height, climbing what seemed to him like a vertical cliff reaching to the very sky. Pillars of light waved through the night, passed him by, came back to pin him in their glare. Kong ignored them, as he ignored the unfamiliar sounds from below. Higher he climbed and higher still, until he came to a ledge where he rested for a moment. Above him towered a narrowing cliff, and, still tenderly holding Ann, Kong assaulted the final ascent, a strong night breeze buffeting him, bearing the unfamiliar scents of civilization.
The sirens blared below as Kong stood in the shadows atop the building. For the first time since his capture, he could move freely, feel the wind on his face. It invigorated him, but the strange odors it contained confused him. He grunted as his broad nostrils sniffed. He expelled the peculiar air with a snort. The ground felt strange under his feet, and the shapes all around him cut a jagged, unnatural horizon. Nothing flowed like the intertwining jungle trees and vines of his home. Every structure stood straight and rigid, outlined in glowing squares and dots of light. Kong remembered great hives of insects in certain parts of the island and wondered if these were the same: he could see tiny creatures moving within some of the hives not too far away.
More lighted creatures moved in straight lines along the ground far below him. Kong had avoided the hives on his island, knowing the insects could deliver annoying stings. No matter, he would swat them away as he always had.
Suddenly, a beam of white light blinded him, followed by a distant popping sound. He felt irritating stings on his legs and body, as though the swarm of insects had surrounded him. Kong angrily swatted at the air with his free hand, the other protectively cradling his treasure. He bellowed in exasperation and pounded a fist against the ground. Surprisingly, his hand shattered the surface and went right through it with a crash. He hastily pulled it out and proceeded to climb down the opposite side of the building.
As he reached street level, the sound of blaring horns and screaming people reached a crescendo. The lights became part of strange creatures that moved swiftly along the ground. Again he heard that popping sound, and again multiple stings assailed his body. Kong swiftly seized the closest moving creature. It had a hard cold feel to it, different from any other enemy he had ever grappled with. He had no time to dwell on such things, but lifted the heavy thing off the ground and hurled it clear across the street in an attempt to crush the lights in a row of windows.
Again and again he hurled these strange creatures at the rows of squared lights in an attempt to drive what was in them away. As he turned the corner, he encountered the blinding glare of a multitude of glowing, insectlike eyes. Something huge barreled toward him, screeching some unintelligible challenge. Kong turned to face his advancing foe and roared as he drummed his chest with his one free arm. Suddenly, the precious thing he held in his hand began to shift its position. He had no time to find a safe place to hide her as he had on the island before his battle with the flesh eater. He only had time to plant his broad feet. Putting all his weight behind his free shoulder, he braced himself for the collision—
* * *
Ann Darrow awoke to see the bright lights, hear the blaring horn and screeching brakes of the bus as it collided with the monster holding her in its grip. She clung on tightly as Kong staggered backward before recovering his balance and advancing on his adversary with the same unconquerable fury that she had seen on the island. With three crashing blows he caved in the top of the bus, almost flattening it to the ground. When the horn became stuck and blared continuously, Ann could sense Kong’s fury redouble. He lifted the front of the wreck and sent it spinning across Broadway, taking out light posts and cars all along the street. Spilled gasoline flared with a whump, bursting into flickering light and heat. The street had become a living hell.
Ann barely had time to recover before going on the ride of her life. The hand that held her swung in a wide arc as Kong advanced rapidly down Broadway. The movement caused Ann’s head to spin. She glimpsed cars that pulled to the side as the people leaped out and ran screaming. The fire, the sirens, the screams, all vanished behind them.
Ann could not yet fully grasp her situation. Suddenly she felt herself being thrust amid the thick, bristling fur in the crook of Kong’s arm. Then she felt a cool rush of wind, mixed with a sudden feeling of weightlessness. The world below her fell away and the stars danced dizzily in the night sky above her. Ann weakly cried the name of the one who had saved her before: “Jack!” He did not answer, and as the darkness engulfed her, so did despair.
22
NEW YORK
JUNE 30–JULY 1, 1933
Jack Driscoll staggered to the window just in time to see Kong’s shadowy form ascend the side of a building and swing out of sight.
“Denham!” he shouted in frustration and anger. “Denham! Where are you? Can’t you stop this brute you turned loose on the city?” He threw open the door and hurried down the hall to the elevator.
In the streets below, he saw that New York was mobilizing for a fantastic pursuit. From all directions, police cars raced toward the hotel, their sirens screaming for c
lear traffic lanes. A hundred police nightsticks rapped the pavements and aroused a hundred more. Driscoll could only hope that even far south on Centre Street a dozen motorcycle cops, with tommy guns, were careening out of headquarters, and that in their wake rolled a squadron of the department’s cars.
Driscoll wondered how the brute had broken loose. Those chains should have restrained even an army tank! Jack felt a moment of despair, but he could not let himself give up hope, not now, not after everything he and Ann had survived on the island. He had saved Ann once before, and there had to be a way to do it again. Driscoll caught sight of Denham, surrounded by policemen, as the director ran breathlessly around a corner in front of the hotel, pointing ahead. “He went up the side of the hotel, Officer! Don’t shake your head at me, you half-witted flatfoot. He did! I tell you, that beast can climb smooth marble!”
Jack pushed through the cops surrounding his employer, yelling, “Denham! He got her.”
Denham stopped short and, lifting his clenched fists, let loose a torrent of profanity. One of the policemen hiked up his coattail and hauled out a revolver, his eyes darting feverishly as if he expected Kong to materialize out of thin air. The police radio cars screeched in six at a time in the cleared lanes.
Denham ran dry at last. “Which way did he take her, Jack? Did you see?”
“No, but he shouldn’t be hard to—look!” yelled Driscoll.
The packed throng turned as one as Kong appeared two blocks down, swiping a mighty arm at an automobile. It went tumbling, its shattering windows reflecting the red and blue glare of a neon sign.
“Ann!” cried Jack, as he could see the white patch of her form in the crook of Kong’s left arm. The policemen fired their revolvers.
“Stop, you idiots!” thundered Denham. “He’s holding a woman! You’re going to hit her!”
A sergeant bawled, “You heard him! Cease fire!” He rushed to a fire truck that had pulled up to the curb. “I’m commandeerin’ this vehicle, sonny. Come on, pile on, men! Okay, waterboy, follow that ape, and don’t use your siren!”
