Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained
VII.
Getting anywhere near the Alhambra was like swimming against the tide. The streets were full of screaming, hysterical people- running into each other, into the road, into cars, into him. In fact, if one more person ran into him, they might just find it was his fist that they connected with first.
Captain Englehorn had only been a few blocks away from the theatre, the first time that the night had been ripped apart by a roar from hell. He hadn't been able to see the ape, but he had felt the earth tremble with Kong's titanic presence. While everyone around him froze, he started to run. At every moment he expected to be confronted by the creature, but his path remained almost unnervingly clear.
By rights, he shouldn't have even been in New York. He should have been on his ship in the middle of the ocean- thousands of miles away from what felt like a reoccurring nightmare.
He had rarely felt the need to explain his decisions to the men whose wages he paid, so when he had turned the Venture around just two days out to sea he had kept quiet as to the reason why.
Jimmy, God bless the kid, had started some ludicrous rumour about there being damage to one of the propeller blades. Half the crew- the new crew that Englehorn had only just managed to cobble together- were probably back at the docks looking for work onboard ships where the captain's sanity wasn't called into question.
He supposed one or two of the less experienced sailors might buy Jimmy's story. They had no way of knowing the only thing that had forced the Venture to return to port was the captain's decision not to run.
He wanted to be in New York tonight. He wanted to be there to face her when she found out the truth; he wanted to know the damage. That was all he had imagined risking.
He hadn't known that Fate wasn't finished toying with him yet. Because something had changed when he'd heard that unforgettable, unmistakable bellow. It was no longer simply desirable to reach the Alhambra. It was an absolute necessity. Want had been replaced by need in a heartbeat.
It was that need that now fuelled his pounding footsteps, but it still took him several lifetimes to cover the distance of those last few streets. When he finally rounded the last corner, and caught sight of the theatre for the first time, it was even worse than he'd feared.
It looked like an explosion had taken place inside the building. Debris was scattered all over the street. As he paused briefly, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath, he lifted his head to look up at the gaping hole that had been ripped in the brickwork. He should have known this would happen. Carl Denham was the antithesis of Midas.
But he hadn't brought the ape back single-handedly…
Englehorn succeeded in once again pushing that uncomfortable truth to the back of his mind. He crossed the street and ran into the ravaged building.
It was in the theatre's foyer where he found what he realised he'd been looking for- a little band of walking wounded- those people who had been unable or unwilling to flee out onto the streets. A cursory glance around told him that most of the injuries looked to be treatable. The relief this gave him was short lived, however, because when he scanned the women tending the injured, he failed to find the familiar face that he sought.
Everything he knew about Mary told him that this was where she should be.
He slowed his breathing and forced himself to consider a new scenario. He looked at the casualties again. Slowly this time, seeking her face, unsure of what to hope for now. He had seen Kong decimate the men of his crew- strong, tough, armed men. It would be so easy for the ape to extinguish the life of one defenceless woman.
He didn't much care for the growing feeling of unease that gnawed at his gut. Gottverdammt! Where the hell was she? Anger was always more palatable than fear. Maybe she hadn't come to the theatre after all, but then that would mean that she could be anywhere in the city.
He dismissed the idea almost the instant it crossed his mind. He could track a lioness across the plains of Africa, anticipate her movements and know exactly where to set his trap. Generally speaking, people were just as predictable as animals once you got to know them. She was here. He knew she was here somewhere. He could depend on Mary to honour her threats, which meant he was missing something important.
"Ma'am!" Englehorn demanded the attention of a red-haired woman who looked suspiciously nurse-like. "I'm trying to find someone who was meant to be here tonight. Her name's Mary Floyd. She's-" he was about to launch into a description, but he'd seen the flash of recognition in the woman's green eyes the second that he'd mentioned Mary's name.
She looked around, scanning the foyer herself, her brow furrowing slowly.
"Ruthie! Where's Mary?" she hollered over her shoulder. Another young woman looked up from bandaging a man's bloody arm.
"Isn't she with you?"
The two women exchanged a glance while Englehorn's patience quickly ebbed. They then turned in unison to look towards what was left of the stairs that led to the auditorium. He followed their gaze, his eyes slowly narrowing.
"Tell me she's not back there."
"I think- I don't- I mean, I thought she was right behind me!"
"But you didn't check."
He didn't wait to hear a response to his scathing assessment. Instead, he took a few determined strides towards the stairs, ignoring the man who yelled after him to stop.
A quick look around told Englehorn that the corridor had partially collapsed not far from the main foyer. It was just about wide enough for a man to pass through, but the whole place looked dangerously unstable.
He had a choice. Wait for help, or go on alone.
He'd never been a very patient man.
The air grew uncomfortably thick with dust from shifting plaster and unsettled brickwork as he moved forward. Every so often the building groaned, as somewhere iron girders buckled under the strain that they weren't designed to hold. The earthy rumble of stone would follow, to be punctuated by the splinter of cracking wood.
Englehorn paused each time the building shuddered. He held his breath until it settled, and then he squared his shoulders and forced his way onward, trying to move quickly.
He couldn't say the tight, narrow space reminded him of anywhere he'd ever wanted to remember… He caught his leg on something that jutted sharply from the darkness, and felt the bite of jagged metal tear into his flesh. He reluctantly slowed his pace after that, although the dull pain was a lot easier to bear than the claustrophobic darkness.
Somewhere something snapped with a crack like gunfire, forcing Englehorn to stop for several minutes as he waited for the erratic pounding of his heart to ease. He tried to laugh it off, along with the clammy sweat that clung to his skin, but it was an angry unnatural sound that left his mouth, fuelled by the fury he felt towards the betrayal of his nerves. She had better be on the other side of this tunnel.
It was with great relief that he finally reached the open space of the auditorium and could breathe again. The extent of the devastation was once again clear to see. On stage stood what remained of the chains that had been forged to hold the giant ape. They were broken, shattered into pieces. The audience's seats were uprooted and strewn about as though a child had tossed them around in a tantrum. The upper stalls were partially collapsed. The ceiling cracked…
Kong's destructive force had seemed unbelievable on Skull Island. Transplanted to the city, it seemed unholy. It wasn't only the building that was broken. There were people too. Something sharp and icy seeped through Englehorn's veins. He knew the feeling, but wasn't about to name it.
"Mary?" he shouted, upsetting more dust. His voice echoed strangely around the ruined space. He picked his way further into the theatre. "Mary!" He tried again, straining to hear anything aside from his own echo. It took a little while, but he was eventually rewarded by the most beautiful sound.
"Thomas?"
