A/N: Lo! My third Englehorn and Jimmy fic, and no doubt many more will come. This one will be in three parts, reviews are very much appreciated, oh, and I don't own King Kong, marvellous as that would be. Enjoy!
Chapter 1
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!"
An enthusiastic round of applause rose from the ranks of wealthy theatregoers seated in the comfortable seats of the Alhambra.
"What a prat."
Englehorn glanced at Jimmy with a grin upon hearing his bitter comment.
"Be nice," he joked, leaning casually against a disused set piece by the side of the stage. "This idiot is responsible for our forthcoming pay, remember?"
He looked out into the theatre. The audience, he thought, resembled dolls in a toy shop, dresses in all their fine clothes and stacked up in the window against a backdrop of gold and red velvet, gleaming glass eyes all fixed on the foolish character on stage. Denham looked odd in the spotlight to those that had known him in the jungle of Skull Island, yet still utterly in his element. The gleam of success in his eyes was visible even from Englehorn's vantage point.
"But you're right," the Venture's captain agreed. "He is a prat."
Jimmy barely seemed to hear. "Our money isn't all he's responsible for."
Englehorn felt a pang of grief – he too missed the calm and commanding presence of his lost first mate – but he wondered vaguely how many men it would take to restrain the stubborn youth once Denham came off stage.
There was a blast of trumpets and a trill of strings as the scheming film-maker unveiled his twenty-five foot ape, followed by gasps of fear and astonishment from the on-lookers. Englehorn yawned, however, involuntary or not Jimmy would never know.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have in the theatre tonight a very special guest."
The skipper's insides turned to ice as he heard Denham's announcement. He knew Driscoll had offered a play premiere as his excuse and was elsewhere, so he had a horrible feeling about just who this VIP could be.
"Coming through, boys, 'scuse me!"
They became aware of a commotion behind them.
"Ah! Evenin' fellas!"
"Bruce?" Jimmy was the first to put a name to the voice.
Englehorn turned to see the actor approaching them, clad in the white garb of a nineteenth century explorer. He cast his eyes over his once-passenger's absurd get-up.
"Baxter, you look ridiculous."
Jimmy sniggered, but the gleaming white smile didn't droop.
"Nice to see you made the effort with your wardrobe," Bruce replied smugly.
Englehorn didn't move a muscle: the star's sarcasm was both expected and ignored. Indeed, neither he nor Jimmy had attempted to look smart for the occasion. Englehorn hadn't even bothered to roll down the sleeves of his worn chocolate-brown shirt, and his companion had stuck to his usual blue. Only their off-white seamen's caps differentiated them at all from the poorly paid backstage hands around them.
"Excuse me, sir."
Englehorn was now addressed by a man in a long grey overcoat who, from the photographer he had in tow, could only have been a journalist. Baxter took the opportunity to dash on to the stage, to tremendous applause.
The reporter held out a hand. "Good evening. Arthur Bailey, New York Times." Englehorn didn't shake the hand offered. "Would you happen to be a…" He checked his notepad. "…Captain J. Englehorn of the ship S. S. Venture?"
How had they gotten their hands on his first name?
"What's it to you?"
"Would you mind answering a couple of questions?"
"Yes."
"We'd just like to hear about your part in the capture of the beast behind you – "
"Did you hear me?"
" – And then your views on this stage show. Also, is it true that your crew sustained heavy losses and – "
"Mr. Bailey." Englehorn's cold tone and stern expression said a thousand words. "I would not like to see violence at such a major event as this."
"Are you threatening me?"
The seaman simply raised an eyebrow and Jimmy grinned; the skipper's glare made him quail every time. Sure enough, the journalist raised his hands and backed off.
Neither sailor said anything in the brief pause that followed, until Jimmy voiced the question Englehorn had been expecting.
"What's the J stand for in your name?"
"Shut up."
There was another short silence.
"Why didn't you answer their questions, skipper?"
"I'd rather nor relive the events of our last voyage, Jimmy."
"Then why'd you come here tonight?"
Englehorn didn't answer. Why had he come here tonight? Why had he accepted Denham's invitation to dwell on the memories of lost friends?
"You don't know where the hell you're going!"
The words of Hayes came back to him, spoken just before arrival at the place that robbed him of peaceful slumber even now. If he'd listened to his trusted first mate, if he'd shut off the ship's engines, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe Denham would be in prison by now. Maybe the Venture wouldn't need so much precious money spent on repairs. Maybe Hayes –
No. He shook his head and groaned.
"Goddamn it, Jimmy, why are we here?"
Jimmy opened his mouth to say something, probably along the lines of the thoughts running through the captain's head, but was cut short by the ape behind him rattling its chains, and looked up at it in horror.
"It is supposed to be doing that?" he asked uncertainly.
Englehorn looked around him and saw that the New York Times photographer, Arthur Bailey close behind, had had the bright idea of taking a photo of the enormous animal, and was but the first in a long line of others like him.
Before he could advise them against it, the deafening roar behind him displayed the ape's agitation at the bright white flashes from stage left. He shook the chains madly, monstrous in his rage.
"Stop it!" Jimmy called to the photographers, but they ignored him in the face of a new picture opportunity. Denham and Baxter were exiting the stage, and this chance for a picture that would sell thousands of newspapers could not be missed.
Englehorn looked out into the auditorium at the rows of spectators looking on with awe. He could now see a slim figure he quickly recognised as Driscoll causing a commotion up in the grand circle, but the playwright was being ignored, for the most part. Indeed, the orchestra were the only people he could see looking unnerved, double bass players in particular, at the events unfolding on stage.
Then, with a violent wrench, Kong ripped one fist free of its shackles.
Dead silence.
Even the ape himself seemed shocked at his own strength. Quickly, a tremor of panic spread through the audience, and seats were abandoned in terror.
"My God…" Englehorn was dumbstruck with horror. He had seen what this beast could do. He barely noticed as the actress playing Ann Darrow was hurled through the air above his head before crashing noisily to the ground backstage.
"We have to get out of here!" He looked for his companion. "Jimmy!" The youth was rooted to the spot in terror. "Jimmy! We have to go!"
Jimmy blinked out of his stupor as the ape wrenched his second arm free.
"Run!" He finally responded as the captain took hold of his wrist and dragged him away.
"Wait!" he called, pulling away.
"You fool! This is no time to be a hero!"
"Jack!"
Englehorn froze and followed Jimmy's gaze. Kong was amidst the seats by now, and staring with petrifying intensity at the twentieth century Shakespeare they both knew so well.
"There's nothing we can do," Englehorn said. Already the playwright was dashing out of the theatre. "Come on!"
Jimmy followed him this time, out of the stage door and into a dark side street. The cold barely registered in their minds, but it cut into their flesh like knives. Englehorn glanced both ways quickly but Jimmy was already running, to the skipper's horror, towards the direction of the screams.
"Jimmy! Are you crazy?"
His shouts went unheard, so, cursing under his breath in his native German, he followed him. As they were running, there was an almighty crash, and the screams grew louder. The wall of the theatre shook above them, wobbled precariously for a few seconds, then crashed down into the road as the sailors dived out into the square. Wooden beams and chunks of bricks hit the ground all around them and a layer of plaster started to settle. Englehorn picked himself up slowly and brushed down his clothes, coughing in the dust.
"Jesus Christ, Jimmy. That was too close."
He thumped the choking crew's youngster on the back and led him by the arm out into Times Square.
It was late evening by now, but the bright lights blared out their flashing colours as ever, despite the shards of glass and lumps of concrete that kept flying through the air.
"There's Jack," Englehorn told his companion, instantly picking out their friend in the middle of the melee.
"He's ok then?" Jimmy's eyes were watering after his spell of coughing.
The Venture's captain saw Driscoll climb into an abandoned cab, but groaned – only a foolhardy writer like him would come up with an idea as stupid as driving towards the ape, who now, incidentally, was busy bashing the hell out of a tram loaded with passengers.
"What's he doing?" It appeared Jimmy had seen him too. Noticing Jack, the beast dropped the tram and turned on his yellow car, but the writer went ahead and drove straight through his legs.
"Come on, skipper, we have to help!"
Englehorn did a doubletake and grabbed the back of Jimmy's shirt before he could scamper away to join in.
"Do you hold your life in any importance?"
"At least I'm not a coward, unlike some!"
"It's called intelligence, Jimmy."
"Mr. Hayes would've helped Jack!"
The captain opened his mouth to make a witty comeback, but no sound came out. Cursing in German for the second time in mere minutes, he let Jimmy go, and, though he knew he would regret it somehow, followed him into the square.
A/N: Hope you liked this! Please leave me a review to let me know what you think! Thanks for reading,
the green lama