Tim Lebbon - Kong - Skull Island

“Compass is all over the place,” someone said in his ear.

Packard replied, “Fox Leader to Fox Group, switch to inertial navigation. And remember the story of Icarus, whose father gave him wings made of wax, and warned him not to fly too close to the sun. But the exhilaration was too great, and Icarus flew higher and higher until his wings melted and he fell into the sea. Gentlemen, the United States Army is not an irresponsible father. They have given us wings of white-hot, cold-rolled Pennsylvania steel.”

“Very poetic,” Conrad muttered, not sure if anyone heard him.

Moments later they broke through. The buffering and battering ceased as quickly as it had begun and fresh sunlight streamed through the windows, diffracted through streaking rain and dazzling Conrad for a few moments. His grip on the seat handles lessened.

“Hey, Conrad. Our holiday’s begun,” Weaver said.

“Now let’s take it down, low and level,” Packard said.

Conrad opened the Huey’s side door and air rushed in, thunderous and loud, but the views it revealed were staggering.

The ocean rolled below, a deep blue and shaded with varying depths. Jagged white lines marked where reefs hid below the surface. Ahead of them, the waters broke against the shores of the massive island appearing out of the mists.

Conrad caught his breath. It was so strange, entering a storm and emerging on the other side to be confronted with such a scene. Stunningly beautiful, an untouched and unknown place exuding wilderness, it was almost intimidating. If everything Randa said was true, then this was a secret place, perhaps never before visited by humankind.

Sweeping beaches ended where dark jungle began, and inland there were tree-covered hills and mountains, sharp ridges, and the wounds of deep ravines, hidden from sight and immune to sunlight.

Weaver leaned across Conrad, paused for a moment to look, and then started snapping some photos. She glanced sidelong at him and grinned.

“Aren’t you afraid of anything?” he asked.

“Clowns.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The helicopters roared over the coastline, and below them the jungle might have been a million years old. This was primeval. There were no signs of mankind’s influence anywhere—no roads, clearings, buildings, or power lines. No indications of deforestation, footpaths, or communities. Conrad glanced behind them and saw leaves shaking in their wake, flocks of birds rising and scattering in shock at these new, noisy invaders. The ground rose sharply, then fell away again into a deep valley, its bottom marked by a dark channel that might have been a river, might have been an even deeper drop into darkness.

The island extended to their left and right, and ahead it rose inland towards a range of mountains and ridge lines. It was massive. Conrad had no idea that a place like this could have existed in the world without anyone knowing about it. The realisation made him feel small and insignificant. It was a feeling he often welcomed and revelled in, because being lost in the world was the place that he found most comfortable. But a location like this could make you feel lost in yourself. He was not a spiritual man, but he suspected some prayers were being whispered amongst the soldiers and civilians on this expedition right now.

“Fox Leader to Group,” Packard said. “Split into two groups. Survey your zones. Let’s get to work!”

Conrad held on tight as his Huey tilted and split to the right, dropping with two others into a valley and following a roaring river upstream. The sound of their rotors was even louder here, bouncing back from the steep valley walls to make a haunting echo. He couldn’t help thinking that they were disturbing somewhere tranquil and quiet.

Weaver seemed entranced, framing photos through the open doors. He wondered what she saw through the camera that he could not, and he promised to ask her about that when they had a chance.

Over the radio Chapman said, “Stick one prepared for landing.”

So this is when they start dropping bombs , Conrad thought. Now we’ll see what this place is really like .

As the Landsat Huey settled in a small clearing beside the river, Randa filmed their arrival from his hovering bird. This was a momentous moment, the culmination of years of dreams and hope, but he was also aware that they had work to do. Below, Brooks and San jumped from the landed Huey, and the Landsat crews started unloading monitors and other equipment. It was a slick, much-rehearsed process, and soon Randa waved as they lifted away.

He held on as the chopper rose and headed further upriver. The valley grew wider and deeper, and soon they broke left towards the first of the target zones.

“Ready for the seismic sources,” Nieves said over the radio.

Randa ensured his straps were secure and leaned closer to the open door. He knew they had to keep a safe distance, but he was eager to film what came next. It was a purely scientific endeavour, but it was also going to look spectacular.

Ahead of them he saw a Huey circling a pre-designated drop zone. Inside, the soldiers would be readying the first of the seismic charges. Sure enough, a few moments later he saw a cylindrical object drop from the door, small parachute fluttering open behind it, and heard the static-filled voice of a soldier saying, “Welcome to the world of man.”

Filming, Randa frowned at that. A curious choice of words. Revealing. We’re not typical men , he thought. We’re here to discover, not destroy . But these were soldiers, not scientists.

He followed the floating object as it disappeared into the jungle canopy below. His heart beat faster in anticipation. Moments later, the first charge exploded.

Trees bent with the force of the blast. Smashed trunks and branches were thrown aloft on a boiling mass of flame and smoke. A shockwave passed through the jungle canopy like ripples in water, startling birds into flight and shimmering far across the jungle.

Randa continued filming, his dawning sense of wonder giving way to a strange, niggling foreboding. Whatever they called these things—seismic charges, scientific instruments—in reality they were bombs.

Their helicopter circled the explosion site, and he continued filming the resultant smoke cloud. The blast zone soon settled back into jungle, and it appeared almost undamaged. It was as if the trees had swallowed the explosion and hidden it away. His low dread was fed by this sense that the jungle could shrug them off so easily. He had no wish to destroy, but he had come here to make his mark.

What came next brought that feeling of triumph he’d been craving since breaking through the storm front.

“Randa, the bedrock!” Brooks shouted into his ear. “You gotta see this. It’s practically hollow!”

Randa smiled, still filming the smoking site of the first explosion. “So how does that feel, Brooks?” he asked.

“Commencing second pass to drop charge number two,” a voice said from one of the choppers circling lower down.

Brooks had not replied. He was probably eager to absorb as much data as he could, he and San watching the monitors and ensuring that all recording devices were accurate and fully operational. But Randa could imagine the man’s mixed emotions. He was glad. Brooks should never have doubted him.

Cautioning himself, more than aware that they had only taken readings from one blast zone, nevertheless Randa felt a growing sense of excitement. He made himself more comfortable as he watched history being made through his film camera.

Weaver wished she was piloting this thing. With three more blasts shredding the canopy and throwing flaming, then smoking fingers skyward, there were far better angles she could be getting on this. Still, she did her best. A series of shots through the cockpit with the pilots framing one huge explosion. Another of the impassive-faced pilot with an explosion reflected in his aviator glasses. More snaps through the open doorway, catching some of the shockwaves tearing through trees, up slopes, and losing themselves down in shadowy ravines. She couldn’t help thinking it was like throwing rocks into a lake—the initial eruption, then ripples spreading, and finally a gentle lessening of the repercussions, until there was little evidence at all. It was as if the island was swallowing the explosions, and she hoped her series of photographs would illustrate this strange effect.