Against all odds (Reg Slivko - Thomas Mann Fic)

Not on foot

Slivko and the rest had follow Marlow to a fortified village. It was formed by a couple of tents, placed near a water course and surrounded by a long and high wall made of woods with sharp spikes in the outside. People there seemed to live like in the old times: they grow their own food, and made their own clothes. Some had yellow geometric paintings on their body, others had blue paintings. Slivko thought that maybe that was a way of differentiating social roles. The yellows, that had pointed their spikes at his face, might be the warriors; and the blues, might be the spiritual guides. "She would love this," he thought appreciating the village and imagined Meg with his notebook taking notes, talking to people and also dressing like them. «You gotta get into it, you gotta feel it» that's what she used to said when it came about experiencing new things.

"That wall," Weaver asked while they move forward. "Is that supposed to keep out that think?"

"No" Marlow answered, "he's not the one they're trying to keep out"

A chill ran through Slivko's body. He wanted to grab Marlow by the neck and made him said, ones and for all, what the hell was out there. That mysterious tone the man constantly used was distressing him. He looked at the wall that separated him from the jungle. It also separated him from her.

"Shouldn't we continue on our way?" Slivko asked to Conrad in a soft voice so only him could hear it.

"Yes, and we will, but we have to spend the night here," the tracker replied. "Look. If we die, you wouldn't be able to do anything for her" added when saw that Slivko was about to protest. "Right?"

Slivko doubted but nodded, and Conrad hit him on the shoulder to close the deal.

Marlow led them to a large rusted ship that was behind the tents. It was an old steamship vessel; it had 500 feet overall length and at least 60 feet beam. Seemed that it had been there a long time; the plants had grown all over it and had large holes as a result of deterioration. They sneaked through one of those holes in the ship's hull. Inside, the temperature dropped a few grades and smelled like wet dirt. A row of torches lighted their way. Slivko followed the group in silence, hearing the metallic sound of their steps echoing in the room.

"This is all hallowed ground to them. So if you like your hands, don't touch anything" Marlow said and took off his cap.

The corridor led to a spacious, square room. The light poured through the holes in the ship's hull, and reminded Slivko the church on Sunday morning. The room had groups of rectangular stone bricks in its borders, surrounding a green grass area. The stones, of course, were decorated with geometric paintings. But, depending on the angle from which they were looked at, you could see that the paintings formed an accurate drawing.

"For thousands of years, the people on this island lived in fear" Marlow said pointing to a set of painted stones that showed a group of people about to be eaten by two monster heads with sharp fangs. "And then one day, the demnedest thing happened. Some of the things they were afraid of started to protect them against the things that were eating them. This is where they honor the last of their saviors" he pointed to a painting of a giant gorilla with open arms. "That's Kong."

It was the biggest of all the paintings, and was at the center of the place. Slivko stood there looking at the picture and trying to process the information.

"He's king around here. He's God to these people. This is his home" Marlow continued "But you don't go into someone's house and start dropping bombs unless you're picking a fight."

"Wasn't Kong the one who kill your friend?" Weaver asked.

"No. One of them did" Marlow pointed a new picture.