Ever since I was little,
I had always thought to myself:
“Somehow or other, I wish
that I could see a human!
How I would love to kill one!”
—“Song of the Daughter of the Mountain God”, recited by Hirame Karepia of the Ainu People
Kong was confused. He’d broken his tooth. It had hurt. Now it didn’t hurt, at least not very much. And now the tooth wasn’t broken. But it felt different.
It was more than the tooth bothering him, though. He had been hearing things, seeing things. Not with his eyes and ears, but in the place he went when he slept. Except he hadn’t been asleep. He didn’t know what it meant, but he felt… like something was calling him. Something that needed him. But he didn’t know who, where they were, or what exactly they wanted.
Jia and the other little ones had come back with him, but he heard the big bug they rode in move away. They were going somewhere else.
He was going home to his caves. To his overlook.
It wasn’t far, and after a little climbing he was there. He was looking forward to a rest, and to something to eat. He was starting to feel hungry.
As soon as he entered his caves, he knew something was wrong. The cave didn’t smell right. Something had been there. And as he swung down into it, he saw all his things had been moved around, his nest of leaves dispersed, the remains of his prey devoured to the bone.
Not by the food thief from earlier. Something else. Something that smelled like he did, but… different.
He continued searching, and after a moment, he saw something on the wall. Marks. Marks like his hand made when he pressed it against something soft, or when his hand was wet with inside-red-stuff. But this wasn’t the same size as his hand. He made sure by putting his up next to it.
He had seen prints like this before. Shaped like his, but not the same size. In the place where he found his axe.
His axe! Was it still here?
He went to the boulder he had rolled to block a smaller cave. To his great relief, his axe was still inside.
He liked his axe. It helped him fight. It had been made long ago, by someone like him, from the scale of something like Godzilla. The ancient enemy. Only, he didn’t think they were enemies anymore. Godzilla couldn’t make sense, like Jia did, not with his hands or his sounds, but Kong thought he understood him. If Kong stayed here, and Godzilla stayed up above, they would not fight. And that was good, because he saw no reason to fight him again. There had been some kind of big fight between people like him and Godzilla. But he thought that fight was over now. He had begun to believe the other apes were all bones and dust, none of them still alive.
But bones did not make handprints. They did not move your things around.
Carrying his axe, he looked further. He followed the sign of the intruders—there had been more than one—to where he had trapped the pack-hunters, but the small crevasse and jumbled rocks from his trap were gone. A much bigger crack had opened there, swallowing everything.
Down inside the new slash in the mountain were long rocks-like-water, like the ones that made the daylight, but they weren’t as bright. They glowed only faintly, a pale blue color.
The ones who had come to his cave had come from the place below there. And they had gone back the same way.
He looked down for a moment. Then he jumped, digging his axe into the rocks-like-water to slow his fall.
He landed on the flat surface of a cave floor. His axe began glowing blue, and the rocks-like-water also began shedding light, almost like they were talking to each other. When he approached them with his axe, they shone more brightly.
Apes had lived here, he saw. Or died here. The floor of the cavern was piled with bones. Some were of prey animals. But many of them were bones like those of his parents, with head-bones shaped like his own.
Once again, he had found people like himself. Once again, they were dead.
Except the handprints in his cave hadn’t been there the day before this. They were not old, like these bones. Something had made them recently, something with flesh and skin. Something had moved his things and eaten his meat. He grunted. He didn’t understand.
Then he heard a sound, as he had the day before. A sound like his own call. Were there more of the loud frogs down here? It might be that. Bones did not make such sounds, he knew that.
Whatever had called out, it wasn’t in here. He saw the cave continued on, a big cave inside the bigger cave of the inside-out downside-up place where he had been living. He looked up, back the way he had come. It would be hard climbing back up that way, anyway. He would go forward. He would see what made the sound. He would follow the tracks of whatever these things were.
The cave was blocked by falling water, the kind he liked to bathe in. The sounds came from beyond that. He widened his nostrils, smelling the wet rock, feeling the spray on his skin. It seemed to him that this might be the same water he bathed in up above, but going deeper, under the stone he usually stood on. Had the skeletons behind him bathed here? Had they smelled what he was smelling?
He pushed his axe through the falling water and followed it through.
On the other side, it was still a cave, only much bigger. It was darker, and very misty. He couldn’t see very far. Light came from stripes and patches in the rocks, making the mist glow. There were no mountains and forests hanging from the ceiling, no rocks floating in-between, no clouds.
Again he heard the sound. This time, he did not hurry. He became cautious. He remembered his traps. There were plenty of traps he didn’t make, that no one had made. The mist could hide many of them. Holes in the rock. Predators waiting in ambush. Cliffs.
As he moved forward, he saw a shape in the mist.
He had seen his own shadow many times in the world above. He had looked at himself in still pools of water. This was a shape that resembled him, but it was taller, thinner. He couldn’t make out its face. But he smelled it now, and it smelled familiar. Shadows had no smell, at least no shadow he had met before. They could not be touched; they could not hurt you or help you. They were not family.
He heard another growl, and the form moved toward him. He gripped his axe, preparing to fight. Maybe it was something like him. But he had never met something like him, and he did not know what it would do.
Then he realized the shadow-shape was moving away. He almost started forward, but then he realized that something was coming toward him, after all. Something much smaller than the silhouette in the mist.
He understood, then. What he had seen was a shadow. The shadow of this, made bigger by the haze and light, just as his own shadow had gotten longer in the world above, on Skull Island, when the light of day was low in the sky.
And the thing that made it did look like him, just much smaller. It wasn’t as tall as his legs. He could see its face now, and that was a lot like his too. And he understood its expression. It was scared. Scared of him.
He lowered the axe, not sure what was happening, what this thing was. It was much bigger than the little ones, but so much smaller than him. It had fur, but lighter than his, red in color. Its head and eyes were too big. It reminded him of Jia, when he had first found her. Small. Helpless. He noticed it had red stripes painted on its torso, the same color as the handprints in his cave.
It still looked afraid, like it wanted to run away. He didn’t want it to do that, so he squatted down, trying to appear less threatening. He put one knee on the ground and laid his axe on the stone.
Then he reached out with one hand, the way he did to Jia.
The small ape-thing looked at his hand. It came forward a little, then a little more. It reached out its little hand, too, palm and fingers down, submissive, making faint sounds. It flinched away from him, as if touching him would hurt, but Kong stayed still, and it reached back. Closer, closer.
This was an ape, he thought. Like him. This could be part of the family he had searched for. That Jia had told him might be down here someplace. That he had almost given up hope of finding.
Then the little ape lunged forward and bit his hand.
The pain was nothing. The little teeth stung but didn’t draw blood. But it was a surprise. It was his own kind, he knew that now, but it was attacking him. Why? Because it was scared? Maybe because it had also never seen something like itself?
It ran. Kong ran after it.
He charged under a stone arch. The mist ended there, but the cave continued on, much bigger, with a long valley running down it. The small ape dashed ahead, and he kept after it.
Then he heard something thump behind him. He spun around.
It was another ape. But this one was much larger, close to his own size. One of his eyes was scarred white, and his fur was very short, light grey. The hair of his head was almost gone, which looked strange. He held a huge leg-bone in one hand, and his posture was threatening. Like the little ape, he had red stripes painted on him. Kong stared at the other ape, wondering what was happening. Then its mouth widened.
Kong saw motion from the verge of his vision, but not soon enough. Two massive shapes crashed into him from opposite directions. Powerful hands grabbed him and mashed his face into the dirt. He dropped his axe, which went sliding across the ground.
It was a trap. Like the one he had made for the pack hunters. The little one had led him into it.
They held him down, grinding his face against the dirt as the one with the leg-bone club headed for him.
These were apes, like him. His kind. Why were they trying to kill him?
He had searched for so long. For this?
He was Kong. No one attacked him.
Enraged, he reached out and grasped a boulder in his hand, then swung it back and hit one of the apes holding him on the side of the head. The ape yowled and let go; with only one now holding him, Kong managed to stagger to his feet as the other ape put him in a headlock. One-Eye charged forward, swinging his club. Kong spun, so the impact fell not on him, but on the ape clinging to his back. One-Eye’s swing overbalanced him and he went past; Kong drove his elbow into his attacker’s back, knocking him sprawling. The one he’d hit with the rock was already back up, charging him, this time with a club. Kong intercepted the weapon and caught it, then grabbed the ape’s arm and used the double grip to heave him into a flip, slamming him into the ape One-Eye had just clubbed. Kong held on to the weapon.
He noticed that both the apes that had tackled him to the ground also had red stripes across their chest and belly.
One-Eye was back, this time with Kong’s axe. Kong stepped away from the swing and clubbed him, knocking him down again. They were all down. He discarded the club and reached for his axe.
The little one came out of nowhere, hurling himself and grappling onto Kong’s face, snapping and scratching with his nails. Still empty-handed, Kong reached up to pull him off but the small ape was remarkably strong for its size. By the time he pulled him off, two of the others had recovered and were coming for him. Holding him by the foot, he swung the small ape like a club, striking one his attackers in the head and connecting with the second on the back-swing. One-Eye was next, yowling and lunging at him. Kong kicked him in the chest, knocking him back, and then threw the small ape at him.
One of the other two scrambled back up and charged him, but Kong dodged and punched him in the head, sending him into the dirt at his feet. He raised both fists and pounded him. The second red-stripe flung himself. Kong tumbled, letting the other ape’s momentum carry him over and past Kong. The red-stripe fell to the edge of a cliff and over it. The ape scrabbled for purchase but was unable to find any.
Kong should have let him fall, but he didn’t. He threw out his hand and caught the red-striped ape by the wrist. Saved from a fatal fall only by the strength of Kong’s hand, the other looked up at him, frantic.
Maybe now these apes would see he was not an enemy.
Grumbling, Kong pulled. He was heavy, this ape like him. But he managed to get him up onto the edge of the precipice. For a moment the red-stripe stayed there, with his head down, as if acknowledging dominance. Kong watched him, panting, then looked to see where the others were.
That’s when red-stripe grabbed a sharpened bone-knife from the ground and tried to stab Kong with it.
That was enough. Kong caught his wrist again, this time not to save him from falling. He kicked him in the chest and let go at the same time, barking his fury. Red-Stripe fell, growing smaller as things did when they got further away. Gone.
Kong turned back to the others. He didn’t see the small one or the other red-stripe at all. One-Eye was creeping toward him.
Kong glared at him.
One-Eye looked around and saw he was alone. He took a step back, then another.
Then he dropped to all fours, turned, and ran.
Kong didn’t run after him. Instead, he found a rock big enough to fit his hand. He weighed it, watching One-Eye get further away. Then he drew back his arm and let it fly.
It curved through the air. Kong kept watching. One-Eye getting smaller, the path of the rock curving downward. When it struck the other ape in the skull, Kong felt an immense sense of gratification. One-Eye fell and tumbled, landing on his face. Then he shook his head and scrambled on, a bit unevenly. Kong watched him go. He was sure he could catch him and kill him. He probably should. But maybe there were more apes. Maybe the others were not bad, like these. Maybe he could follow One-Eye and find them. And if they were bad, if they were all like these, maybe he would kill them all. That way he didn’t have to worry about more sneak attacks like this one.
He didn’t like the thought. What he had felt when he first saw the small one—he had liked that feeling. But now it was all spoiled.
Something rustled in the bushes nearby. He bolted forward, thrust his hand in, and yanked the small one out. He tossed him to the ground and roared at him. He had done this. He had made all of this happen.
This time, the small one didn’t attack him. He backed up and covered his face with his hands.
Without taking his eyes off the little ape, Kong picked up a sharp bone like the one the red-stripe had tried to kill him with. He sniffed it; it smelled of ape. He gestured to the bone, reaching it toward the small one. A question. Where did this come from? Where did you come from?
The small one moved his head. It seemed like a refusal. Kong roared again, and gestured in the direction One-Eye had run.
The small one hesitated, but then he turned, head down, and started leading the way.
The visit to the outpost was supposed to have been a short stopover to check in on their radio silence and gather any more information they could on the “distress call” they’d been picking up. But after finding the post destroyed and those who manned it all dead, getting back topside seemed like their top priority, thought Ilene. For one thing, the threat level was now astronomical, and they had not only a civilian with them, but Ilene’s own daughter. If they had any idea where they should go to investigate the signal, that might be one thing. But they didn’t. In fact, for all they knew whatever had destroyed the outpost had sent the signal. In the long and often unfortunate history of distress calls, it was sadly true that they were often lures to attract the well-meaning. What if Jayne and her team had figured out what the signal was and attempted to respond to it, unknowingly engineering their own demise?
“All right,” Mikael said. “We’re ten minutes out from the vortex entrance. We’ll be home in no time.”
Ilene acknowledged that with a nod, working on retrieving the data from the camera Trapper had found, hoping it contained some clue as to what had killed her people. She found the storage card and plugged it into her utility pad. There were images there. She began scrolling through them.
“You getting anything off that thing?” Trapper asked.
“Just…” Nothing unusual yet. She kept going.
And stopped. “Oh, my God,” she said.
“What?”
“Here,” she said, unplugging the device, so she could hand it to Trapper. “Take a look.”
He took it and frowned at the screen.
“It looks like an ape,” she said. “But that’s impossible.” She saw Jia was looking over Trapper’s shoulder. She thought about trying to stop her, but she already knew about the outpost. She had stayed in the H.E.A.V, sure, but she had still seen. And after that, she had asked the inevitable questions, which Ilene had had to answer honestly.
“What the bloody hell is that?” Trapper wondered, studying the still.
“I have no idea,” she said. But she did, didn’t she? The cave with the throne, the Titan skeletons, the axe, the Kong-sized imprint on the walls. Not to mention the handprint back at the outpost. What she meant was: this ape looked different. Like Kong, but not like him. Every bit of evidence up until today suggested that the ancient Great Apes of Hollow Earth had been gone for years—centuries even. Once again, Hollow Earth had surprised her. Not in a good way. Because while Kong had proven himself to be a guardian of humanity, this ape clearly was not.
The H.E.A.V suddenly juddered, and interference patterns flickered across the displays. Very familiar interference patterns. The H.E.A.V instantly dropped into a dive, as if Mikael had decided, on a whim, to run them straight into the ground. But she could see the pilot fighting with the controls, trying to override what was happening to the craft by sheer force of will. She was vaguely aware that Bernie was yelling as the ground approached. The whole vehicle shook like it was about to come apart. She glanced at Jia. Her daughter looked oddly calm. Jia had been through a lot.
Ilene closed her eyes. We’ll get through this, she thought.
And she felt the H.E.A.V pull up. She opened her eyes and saw they were skimming mere meters above the grassland under them. They were lucky it hadn’t been forest.
Mikael pulled back further, and the H.E.A.V responded, beginning to lift again.
“What the hell was that, Mikael?” Bernie demanded.
“Calm down, calm down,” Mikael snapped back, not sounding all that calm himself.
“It must have been the signal,” Ilene said. “The same electrical disturbances were happening at the outpost.”
She saw Jia was signing. It’s getting stronger.
“What kind of signal?” Bernie wanted to know. “‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here’ kinda signal? What is that, a warning signal?”
Jia was still waving for her attention.
It came from around there, her daughter said, pointing at the horizon.
You’re sure? she asked.
Jia nodded.
“She says it’s coming from that ridge point,” she told everyone else.
They looked out at the ridge, then back at her.
Right. This changed things. As much as she wanted to get Jia back to the surface, they had only just survived the signal’s interference with the H.E.A.V. If it happened again as they entered the vortex or after, Monarch would be scraping them off the walls. It was probably more dangerous to try to return to the surface than to remain here. Besides, if Jia was right—and Ilene had no doubt that she was—they had a chance to figure this out.
“Well, let’s go take a look,” she said.
“Copy that, Doc,” Mikael said, starting a turn.
Mikael did a flyover of the region, but at Ilene’s insistence, he kept it short. Flying was clearly no longer the safest way to travel. The area Jia had indicated was heavily forested, so they didn’t see much.
Where? she asked Jia.
It’s not happening now, Jia said. But I feel… something. Somewhere that way.
She nodded. “Mikael, Jia thinks we’re close. Find a place to set down. I don’t feel safe in the air.”
“My thoughts, Doc,” Mikael said. “Even though I never thought I’d be using a teen as a GPS.”
Ilene wondered about that, too. Why could Jia sense the signal? No one else had heard or felt anything other than the sudden near-catastrophic failure of the H.E.A.V. While the signal clearly affected electronics, as far as she knew the only living creatures who seemed to sense it were Jia, Godzilla, and maybe Kong. She understood the Titans—Godzilla obviously had some sort of global Titan-locating perception, and Kong had something similar. She suspected this signal operated along the same lines as those senses. But why Jia?
Because she was Iwi? Because the Iwi and Kong had been connected by some special link? Something that explained why the Iwi had mostly abandoned spoken language?
Now she was thinking like Bernie. She wasn’t sure that was good. Yes, he had been right about a few things. But he was wrong about so many. When you fired a shotgun at a target, you were likely to hit something, even if most of the shot missed.
The H.E.A.V was an improvement over the earlier models, tailored to meet the needs of Hollow Earth travel Nathan Lind, and later Apex, had only been able to guess at. Setting down in a climax forest didn’t present any difficulty.
Once down, Mikael armed himself again.
“Doc,” he asked. “You want a gun?”
She shook her head. She wasn’t well trained with weapons, and would probably be as dangerous to her crew as anything they might encounter.
“Trapper?” Mikael asked.
“No,” Trapper replied. “The only thing a gun will do down here is make us overconfident enough to die even faster.”
“Oh, I see,” Mikael said. “Well, you don’t mind if I hang on to mine, do you?”
“You do you, mate.”
“I might…” Bernie started.
“No.” Mikael snapped.
“Yeah, okay,” Bernie said.
* * *
Bernie stopped when the hatch opened and he remembered where he was—and why he was there. He and Sara had always talked about going someplace exotic, like Borneo or the Congo. Well, not always. They had discussed it once or twice. Sara thought it would be fun.
Here I am, sweetheart, he thought, gazing at the alien undergrowth. It looked tropical, sort of. It definitely felt tropical. Slender, pale-trunked trees climbed into the sky, forming a canopy of interlocking leaves—fronds? Climbing vines wound up them, seeking the light from the sunrise crystals on the other side of the world. Couldn’t get much more exotic than this, could you?
Just as well he didn’t have a gun, right? His camera was his weapon. He pulled it out, checked the charge, and pointed it at the forest.
Mikael was in the lead, followed by Jia and Andrews. Bernie hung back a little, then started filming.
“The Hollow Earth,” he began, panning through the foliage. “A world untouched by mankind. Is this how Neil Armstrong felt, when he stepped on alien soil? This is one small step for me, and one giant—”
Something loomed in the viewfinder, literally right in his face.
Trapper.
“Who are you talking to?” the veterinarian asked.
“Are you kidding me?” Bernie snapped. “Right down the lens. This—this is a documentary. You just wanna walk?” He gestured for Trapper to turn around. “Just walk.”
Trapper shrugged and obliged, continuing to follow the others. Bernie sighed. “Thank you.” He checked the camera, and then started again.
“The Hollow Earth…”