Return to Skull Island
CHAPTER THREE
-------------------------------------------------
"Anne!" Jack yelled as he pulled open the door, gasping for breath, "Anne!"
"What, Jack? Is something wrong?" Her sleepy voice, coming from the bedroom, reminded him that it was midnight on a Tuesday
He shed his jacket on a chair and barged into their bedroom. "It's the Venture," he said, turning on the light. Anne raised an eyebrow, squinting through the sudden brightness. "In the newspaper. They were marooned on some unknown island. The article doesn't say which, but it does say that Englehorn and others are missing! Does that seem strange at all to you?"
Anne sat up in bed and yawned. "Of course that sounds strange. Can I see the article?"
Jack handed the newspaper to her. "Do you think they went back there?" he asked.
Looking up, Anne said, "Why would they do that? I don't think any of them loved Skull Island." She read a few more lines. "Anyway, the crew reported that it was a storm."
They sat in silence as Anne read the account. Jack tried to imagine what would bring the crew of the Venture back to Skull Island. The idea that a storm brought them there was ridiculous; the chances that a storm would just happen to pull the Venture to Skull Island were far too slim.
"This is definitely strange," Anne said slowly.
"What do you think it means?" Jack asked.
"It's strange," Anne said again. "But I don't know if it means anything. First of all, we don't know if they're actually on Skull Island. There must be a thousand little undiscovered islands. I mean, it's terrible that they're marooned, but help will come soon enough. It says that they were able to check their coordinates with the stars." Anne pointed to a line in the text, then sighed. "Jack, even if they did go back to Skull Island, what do you plan to do?"
He stood up and took a deep breath. "I don't know, Anne. But it sounds like they might need help from someone who knows about Skull Island. I can't imagine Englehorn disappearing if it were a normal shipwreck. Why can't we get there quickly?"
Anne sighed. "I don't think there's anything we can do right now. Why don't you look into that tomorrow?"
He nodded and sat down on the bed again.
"Jack?"
"Yes?" he asked.
"Turn off the light."
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Englehorn tried to hold his gun steady, aiming it at the largest of the native guards. His shoulder complained sharply he gritted his teeth and made sure that when he pulled the trigger, the guard would fall.
He played his plan, simple as it was, in his mind like one of Carl Denham's movies. He would shoot the native. The loud noise and the death of one would send the rest running for cover. If they ran far enough, he could rescue his crew without any problems. If they came back, he would have had enough time to reload and he could kill another one. There were only a few guards.
Confident now, having convinced himself that his plan was sound, he pressed his finger to the trigger. Somehow, the small movement sent a spike of agony through his shoulder. He cried out with the unexpected pain as his arm jerked and his finger tightened around the trigger.
The shot was deafening the in the silent forest. He reflexively grabbed his shoulder, but his arm dropped as he saw one of his own crew—he couldn't tell which one—slump to the ground.
The natives had jumped, startled, when the shot had gone off, but now they turned in his direction. He was torn for a moment between reloading and trying once more to hit one and making a much-needed escape.
His arm was only now returning to the dully throbbing state it had been in all night, so he decided to run. It wasn't, he thought as he started toward the thicker woods, an act of cowardice. It was simply the fact that if the natives caught him now, there would be no one to rescue his crew.
He dodged through the thick growth on the forest floor and between the trunks of massive trees, but he was tired, and he knew that the natives were quickly closing the space between them.
They were out of view for the moment, behind a steep hill. If there was ever a time to hide, he realized, it was now.
He looked around desperately. There seemed to be nothing that could actually conceal him from view.
Finally, he saw a long, dark hole about the size of a hatch on his ship, going down into the loam-covered ground beside an enormous tree. He immediately thought of the creatures he'd seen and heard about, the huge flesh-eating worms that had consumed Lumpy and the other cat-sized bugs.
His indecision only lasted a moment and he lowered his feet into the thick, sloping hole. Despite the pain in his shoulder, it didn't take long to wiggle into the tunnel and cover the entrance with old leaves.
He breathed shallowly in the small space and tuned his ears to the sound of his pursuers. He heard nothing at first but the beating of his heart and then something scuffling beyond his feet in the other end of the tunnel.
-------------------------------------------------------
Jimmy felt himself drifting off to sleep as he hung from the bridge. He was more tired than he had been in a long time, and a slight breeze seemed to caress him like a blanket.
He had seen nothing during the time that he waited. He wondered if the other creatures of the island still considered this to be Kong's spot and avoided it. That was a good thing, he decided, his eyes closing. The more, in this case, were certainly not the merrier.
He awoke a few times, noted the numbness in his bound hands, listened to the screech of some bird that faded into the distance, and fell asleep again.
He realized during one period of wakefulness that there was no telling what the natives would do when they found him in the morning. However, this thought did nothing to deter his weary mind from slipping away once more.
----------------------------------------------------------
Jack found it hard to fall asleep that night, even as Anne's breathing slowed and she slackened in his arms. He wracked his mind for a way to help his friends, or at least to find out why they had returned to Skull Island, but nothing came to him.
Finally, as a lone car passed on the street below and sent a sliver of light into the room, he had a strange idea.
Carl Denham.
Though they hadn't ended on great terms after the Kong fiasco, they had been friends long enough that Jack guessed Carl might help him. And, even if their friendship hadn't held out, there was always the excitement of Skull Island to convince him.
Exactly how Carl might help he wasn't sure. But the man knew everyone and had an uncanny way of making even the most impossible ideas work. If there was a way to get to Skull Island quickly, Jack reasoned, Carl could figure it out.
Satisfied, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.
-------------------------------------------------------
So what do you think?