Tim Lebbon - Kong - Skull Island

He reached for his pistol and slipped some more, hooking his left arm around a dried stem that instantly parted from the cliff, swinging him out over the sheer drop. He heard the ominous sound of crackling, dried wood.

The snake hissed. Its head dipped towards him, fangs dripping venom, eyes dim then bright again as a protective film flickered back and forth across them. Its body stiffened and prodded him, swinging him even further out on the old plant that was now the only thing holding him up. Ahead of him, the cliff face and the snake’s looming head. Below, a drop that would almost surely kill him.

Conrad tried not to panic. His pistol was on the wrong side, so he reached down with his left hand and pulled his knife, taking his time, knowing that if he panicked and dropped the blade he would be out of options. He’d have to let go and fall. If he was lucky and the impact didn’t kill him, or if he managed to grab hold of other undergrowth to arrest his fall, the snake would arch down and swallow him whole.

He brought the knife up and around just as the serpent went for him. Gripping hard, his hand passed into its mouth, knocking its head aside, blade slashing through its darting tongue and severing it at the root. A lucky shot, but one that pained the serpent so much that it thrashed and coiled, shoving itself out from the wall and almost taking Conrad with it. The creeper he was grasping tore from the rock, and as he fell he leapt for another plant, gripping it with one hand just as the writhing snake smashed into the wall beside him.

He bit the blade between his teeth, almost gagging on the taste of the snake’s blood. Then he started climbing.

Whatever pain it was in, the serpent still focused on its prey. He felt the tail loop around him, circling his stomach far quicker than he believed possible. Two loops, three, and then it started constricting.

Conrad tensed his muscles, fighting the snake’s powerful grasp. He groaned through clenched teeth, still holding on to vines covering the cliff face. Just as he let go with one hand and went for the knife, the snake pulled him away from the cliff.

For a terrifying moment he was suspended out over open air, with a long drop beneath him and the cliff too far away to reach. The snake was curled around several heavy branches, holding him steady as its head extended out towards him. It was shaking, a heavy shiver that passed all along its body and transmitted into his core as it began to draw tighter, tighter. He could no longer hold out against the pressure, and when he exhaled and tried to draw in another breath, he was not able. Darkness grew around the edges of his vision. The snake’s head was feet away, those fangs as long as his fingers, edging closer, closer…

Conrad grabbed the knife from his mouth and slammed it down into the top of the snake’s head.

Its coils loosened instantly and he began to slip. Tugging his knife free, he grabbed one coil of its body and felt himself dropping as the snake began to slide from the cliff. At the last moment he leapt, pushing off from the snake’s heavy body and striking the surface, scrabbling for purchase, nails clawing at stone and vine stems until his left hand lodged between a creeper and the cool rock. It jarred his shoulder and brought him to a halt, and he hugged himself close to the steep surface, curling his leg around another creeper, gasping for breath as the snake fell away from him and out into open space.

It landed several seconds later, a heavy, meaty thud that he felt through the cliff. He looked down, but already it was lost in the undergrowth growing below. Bushes rustled and trees shook as it made its escape.

Breathing heavily, trying to ease back the delayed panic, Conrad sheathed his knife and pressed close to the cliff face. He took a few moments to catch his breath. He’d been close to death many times, but never that close.

After a while he started climbing again. This time he was careful to ensure that whatever he grabbed hold of was plant, not animal.

Three minutes later he reached the ridge line. He rolled onto his back, panting heavily. His hands were shaking.

Control , he thought, take control, breathe, it’s just you, that’s all, take charge of this time, this place and you’ll survive. His heartbeat calmed, and when he opened his eyes his vision was clear. He was staring up at streaked white clouds and a blue sky that could have been anywhere.

Standing, Conrad looked north and saw what he had climbed up here to see—a wide, uninterrupted vista of the island’s interior.

The island was even larger than he’d suspected. To his right he could see the sea, but ahead and to the left it was only land, the mountainous horizon quite close but with the suggestion of more island beyond. It was a vast, heavily wooded terrain, with plenty of places for huge things to hide.

He pulled the compact binoculars from his belt and started searching.

He soon found a narrow river that snaked from his right towards the island’s interior. It was visible in places, but where it wasn’t he could follow the course of its valley, rising and skirting the foothills of the central mountains, losing itself in the far distance. From here and there, several columns of smoke still spiralled up from the seismic charges and the sites of downed helicopters. The beast had done a good job on the Sky Devils, wiping out one of the US Army’s most efficient attack squadrons in the space of fifteen minutes.

They needed to head inland, then north across the central mountains. Their extract point was to the north of the island. How to get there without any serviceable aircraft or a boat was a problem they’d have to face when the time came. For now, at least he had an immediate plan in mind. Reach the river, track it, cross the mountains.

It looked so very far away.

He shifted his view left and right, looking for any trace of—

His view went black.

Conrad lowered the binoculars so that he could see a wider scope, and there it was. The monster had just crested a hill in the distance, still snarling and spitting, beating its chest and causing a sound that reminded him of aircraft breaking the sound barrier, again and again.

He watched the big beast scramble down the hillside, trees bending and breaking before it, piles of rock tumbling down. It seemed to be in a rush, and he soon saw why. It was making its way to one of the craters created by a seismic charge. A fire still blazed there, consuming the jungle in two long, uneven lines. Smoke billowed skyward, the oily colour of living things dying, both plants and animals.

The monster stared back in Conrad’s direction and roared. His blood chilled, and he couldn’t help but think that the scream was for him alone. He ducked down on the ridge line, pressed flat against the ground. He was too far away for the giant gorilla to see him, he was certain. Yet he felt its eyes upon him, and sensed its hate.

It stopped roaring and stood still for a moment. It stared down as if examining the crater. Then it started trampling the fires, scooping up huge handfuls of soil and smothering the flames. It worked until just a few wisps of smoke curled skyward, then it sat, snorting and exhausted, touching wounds on its arms, chest and face. Quieter now, less threatening, Conrad saw something painfully human about the giant beast.

He was entranced. This thing had killed so many, and yet it had done nothing wrong. They had come here and dropped the first bombs. The beast had attacked in self-defence.

He turned and stalked back the way he’d come, taking more care on his descent of the cliff. At the bottom he paused every few steps to make sure the snake was not still there, in truth enjoying these last few moments when he could be alone.