Date: Sun, 16 Sep 2007 09:01:40 -0400
From: Tinnean <tinneantoo@embarqmail.com>
Subject: Stick With Me, Kid Part 5

Notes: A grand is a thousand dollars. The Cyclone roller coaster that
Johnny rode opened in Coney Island in 1927. Black Tuesday was October 29,
1929, the day the stock market crashed, signaling the start of the Great
Depression. Quiff is slang for slut or cheap prostitute. Johnny didn't have
much regard for his old man's lady friends. Jiminy Crickets has been used
as an expression of surprise or bewilderment since at least 1848.

Stick With Me, Kid
Part 5

A constant drone assaulted our ears, and it abruptly occurred to me that
the dry, high-pitched sound was caused by the creeping, crawling, leaping,
slithering inhabitants of the brush.

I had a thing about creepy-crawlies, and it wasn't a good thing. The mere
thought of one of those things finding its way under my trouser leg tied my
stomach in knots and made my skin feel as if it was ready to do some
crawling of its own.

"Johnny, are you listening to me?"

I forced my mind away from the image of insects the size of the rats that
ran in the sewers of New York. "Sorry, Mr. Denham. You were saying?"

"What's the lowdown with Hildy?"

I'd wondered if he'd noticed. "She's kind of... well, adopted me."

"Say again?"

"She has this idea that I saved her life, so now it belongs to me." I
waited for him to laugh at the notion that I could be responsible for
anyone.

He just looked thoughtful. "The Chinese believe that. Kind of makes sense,
if you ask me."

"Not you too, Mr. Denham," I protested. "I'm no good at taking care of
myself. How can I take care of a little girl?"

"You don't give yourself enough credit, kid. You'd do a great job." The
smile that lit his face was warm. "But if you want some help, I wouldn't
mind."

That would make us a... family. I was so astonished I couldn't get a word
out. His smile deepened, and he ran a knuckle over the curve of my cheek,
then pulled me against his side, and we proceeded in companionable silence.

The path began to narrow, and my lover took the lead, the rifle at the
ready, only to come to a dead halt. "Holy smoke!"

"What is it?" I reached for my shiv.

"A pool, Johnny!" He stepped aside so I could see. "And from the looks of
it, a thermal pool!" Thin streamers of mist rose from the surface. "We're
going to have a bath!" He paced off the area and made sure it was safe,
then put the rifle down and toed off his shoes. In a matter of seconds he
had stripped off his clothes and jumped in. "Ah, this is great, kid! Come
on in!"

He didn't have to tell me twice. I dropped the canteens, then kicked off my
shoes, unbuttoned my trousers, and pulled my shirt over my head. Somewhere
along the way I'd lost the tie that held my hair back. I'd find something
to make due after my bath. I went into the pool.

The water was warmer than I'd expected, and it took a couple of seconds
before I grew accustomed to the temperature. I submerged myself, and
surfaced to the feel of strong fingers in my hair, massaging my scalp. I
made a pleased sound at how good it felt.

"Like that, kid?"

"Oh, yes!" I whimpered.

He raised the hair at the back of my neck and ran his teeth over the skin,
then bit down gently and sucked. I whimpered again, and he let me
go. "Damn. That's going to leave a mark! I'm sorry."

"Don't be." I turned and carded my fingers through the pelt of brown that
covered his chest. "My hair will cover it. And anyway, I like having your
mark on me."

I didn't know what he would have said to that. At that point I was almost
overcome by the heat of the pool, and I staggered. He caught me before I
lost my balance and went under. "You're looking flushed, Johnny. We'd
better get washed up and get out."

I nodded, not wanting to tell him that I was actually feeling a little
faint.

The bottom of the thermal pool was sandy, and we scooped up handfuls to
scour away the sweat and dirt of the last hours. Once that was done, we
washed our clothes, climbed out of the water, and laid them over bushes to
dry. In that heat, it wouldn't take long.

Nearby, dappled by the sun splashing through the leaves, was a patch of
grass that looked and felt like lush velvet. I finger-combed my damp hair
as I studied it to see if it harbored any unwelcome inhabitants, then lay
down, stretched my arms over my head, and gradually began to feel
cooler. Mr. Denham settled himself beside me, and we closed our eyes
against the glare of the sun.

"There's something I've been curious about, Johnny." He had one arm folded
behind his head while his other hand absently fondled my hip.

"What, Mr. Denham?" I frowned. The sun seemed to have suddenly gone behind
the clouds, but when I opened my eyes, the sky was cloudless.

"You knocked Helstrom's hand away from Hildy, and you told Jimmy to take
her with him. How come?"

I cleared my throat, my attention brought back to him. "Remember when we
went to give Mai Ling the money we'd gathered for Hildy, and we thought we
heard someone in her house with her?"

"Sure. We must have been mistaken. She said no one was there."

"Yeah. Well, she lied." I'd persuaded her to tell me the truth. "It was
Helstrom. From what I could learn, he'd been trying to get Hildy's father
so drunk he'd make him the little girl's 'guardian'. The old man may have
been a rummy, but he was sharp enough to know that if he did that, Hildy
would wind up..." Like me. "... as a... a ..."

"A whore?"

"Yeah." I looked away from him. "Peterson threatened to shoot Helstrom's
balls off if he ever went near his daughter."

I debated telling Mr. Denham what else I had learned.

After Mai Ling had reluctantly given me that information, I'd gone to fetch
Hildy. She'd been lying on a filthy bed that smelled of stale sex. I'd
examined her quickly and had been relieved to find she hadn't been... that
she was all right. I wasted minutes trying to wake her up before I realized
she'd been doped. Finally I just picked her up and carried her out of the
cramped bedroom. We had to go back through the main room, and I thought I
might have to... persuade... Mai Ling not to give me a hard time. Instead,
I found the Malay woman lying on the dirt floor, her throat cut from ear to
ear. The only sound in the room was the buzzing of the flies, black and
biting, that were already gathering, drawn by the blood that pooled under
her.

I was pretty sure I knew who had killed Mai Ling, but I didn't have any
concrete proof, and I didn't think Malay cops were any more on the level
than the bulls I'd run up against back in New York, so I took it on the lam
and got Hildy out of there and onto the Venture. If any of the Malay
woman's neighbors saw me leaving, they weren't likely to rat me out. In
Dakang, in most places in those islands, anyone who poked his nose into
things that didn't concern him was liable to wind up in the same condition
as Mai Ling.

In the end I decided not to say anything.

He had turned on his side and was leaning on his elbow, waiting for me to
continue.

"Mai Ling wasn't going to give Hildy to Helstrom. Why should she let him
have the girl for nothing, when she planned on getting a grand for her?"

Mr. Denham whistled. "That's a lot of dough!"

"I told you the planter liked little girls, the littler the better, and he
was willing to pay. I hope someone cuts his prick off and shoves it up his
ass someday!"

"Johnny!" It always seemed to surprise him when my violent streak came to
the fore. "I can understand you being sickened by someone like that." He
suddenly reached out and brushed the hair back off my forehead. "Did you
have a little sister?"

"I have no kin, Mr. Denham."

"Hmmm." He said nothing more, and when I glanced at him, his eyes were
closed again. There was a furrow between his brows, but I assumed it was
from the stray sunbeam that seemed to have found him. I nudged him, and he
grunted and rolled over. I relaxed and drifted into a light doze.

****

I was dreaming of the grey autumn day when I'd learned that my old man had
not only jumped out the thirtieth floor window of a downtown skyscraper,
but had neglected to pay the fees to the school I'd been attending since I
was five. Mr. Phipps, the headmaster who had a penchant for brunets, which
had spared me his attentions, had reluctantly dismissed me. At the age of
fifteen, I'd found myself facing the world alone and with no means to
support myself, since the country had been plummeted into the Great
Depression.

Before the dream could wind to its dark conclusion, I was yanked abruptly
out of that unpleasant state, and I jack-knifed into a sitting position, my
head whipping from one direction to another as I scanned the area.

Mr. Denham had the rifle cocked and ready to fire. "What is it, kid?"

I hunched a shoulder. "All of a sudden it felt as if... I dunno... as if I
was being watched." Tensely I peered into the dim light that filtered
through the trees and brush that surrounded the pool, but I saw nothing. I
lowered myself slowly back onto the grass. "I must be getting antsy, I
guess, Mr. Denham. I'm sorry. I thought my nerves were better than this."

"Your nerves are fine."  He put the rifle down, but I noticed that he kept
it close at hand. "I've been watching you while you sleep." I turned my
head to stare at him, and he burst into laughter at the disbelieving
expression on my face. "There's no one else here, is there?"

"Well, no. But..."

"Johnny, I haven't been able to take my eyes off you."  My lover moved
closer to me and ran his palm up and down my thigh, going a little higher
each time. "You know something? I've never seen you in the sunlight. The
hair on your body is so fair, so fine, it almost looks as if you don't have
any at all," he murmured. "Except for here." I gasped as he drew a finger
over the curls that clustered at my groin. "My own hoard of gold."

My mouth went dry, and my prick twitched. "I'm not a girl," I said gruffly.

"I noticed." He waggled his eyebrows lasciviously, and I would have smiled
only he chose that moment to circle the pad of his forefinger around my
nipple. "Doesn't make it any less true. I wasn't what you might call a
romantic kind of guy. I never brought a dame flowers or candy, or wrote
poetry about her golden hair, or blue, blue eyes." His lips a whisper from
mine, he was threading his fingers through *my* golden hair, staring into
*my* blue eyes.

It took me a second to catch my breath. "I meant, you don't have to sweet
talk me, Mr. Denham."

"I think I do." He was half lying over me now, a hand on my knee, gently
parting my legs. "Know what's funny, Johnny? I never wanted to sweet talk a
woman. Never really had the inclination; never wondered about it
either. Not until I met you and..."  His smile was self-conscious, and to
my surprise, dull color crept up his cheekbones to his hairline. He wound a
lock of my hair around his finger, unwound it, wound it again. "Would you
tell me something, kid?"

"Well, sure, Mr. Denham."

He searched my eyes intently. "Do you remember the first day I met you,
Johnny? I brought you back to my rooming house. I told myself it was just
because you were down on your luck and needed a break."

"I really was in a bad way." My nose had been broken, and I hadn't had a
decent meal in too long. I didn't count what the missions grudgingly dished
out The dogma that went with the thin soup and stale bread made them almost
unpalatable. On top of that, if Mr. Denham hadn't placated the saloon
keeper with a dollar bill, I'd have been looking at a stretch up the river
for trying to steal some pickled eggs. My stomach still churned at the
thought of how that day could have turned out.

"I didn't expect you to do what you did."

I'd have done anything for him. I still would. "What I did wasn't a big
deal."

"It was a big deal." He became lost in a reverie. "You knelt on the floor
in front of me, and you took my prick in your mouth, and you sucked me and
licked me and did things I didn't know were possible until I came, and then
you swallowed. I liked you doing that, Johnny. I liked it lot."

"I'm glad." I lightly touched his cheek, feeling the stubble under my
fingertips. "So did I."

"But you... uh... you never did it again."

I felt color heat my own cheeks. "You never told me to."

"I never... jesus, mary and joseph, kid! I never had to tell you to make
love with me either, but... Oh, fuck." He stared at me, the color of his
eyes grown even darker with shock, and I wondered what I had done
wrong. "It just dawned on me. You've never... never once touched me!"

I let out a breath of relief. That was just plain silly. "Mr. Denham, I've
touched you plenty of times. I touch you *all* the time!"

"Not sexually, Johnny. Not unless I've touched you first. Why?" It was a
cry of distress. "Have you even liked what I've done to you?"

"Of *course* I've liked what you've done! How can you ask me that? You're
the *only* one who's ever... that I've ever...!" How had this gotten so
twisted around? I sat up, hesitant to reveal my feelings, but knowing he
deserved nothing less than the truth. "Mr. Denham, I know what I am, what
I've had to do in the past. I know you're happy with me now, that we're
partners, like you said." My voice was shaky, and I had to pause a moment
to take a steadying breath. "But I know just as well that there'll be a
time when you *won't* want me any longer. I was afraid that if I told you I
wanted things I really couldn't have, you'd... " My voice broke, and I
looked away. "I just didn't want that time to come any sooner than it had
to."

"Aw, Johnny..." He cupped my cheek to turn my face, but I wouldn't meet his
eyes. I jerked free and scrambled to my feet, needing to put some distance
between us, or else I'd be begging him to keep me, as a lover, as a pet, as
whatever he wanted me to be.

"When we first met, Mr. Denham, you told me you weren't like this, that you
liked girls. I never expected this to... "

"Sometimes I talk too much." He was beside me before I realized it, and I
found myself yanked into his arms. His lips were a hairsbreadth from
mine. "Kiss me," he ordered. He took my hand and dragged it down the front
of his body to where his prick lay flaccid against his thigh. "Touch me."

I stroked my fingers over him and was gratified at how quickly he
hardened. I cradled his balls in my palm, weighing them, rolling them,
testing their texture with my thumb, and he moaned.

"All you had to do was tell me," I whispered against his mouth.

"*Not* because I tell you. Because you *want* to!"

"Ah, Mr. Denham, I always want to! You letting me know that this is what
you want as well... well, that's just icing on the cake!"

I had become so hard that my prick ached with the need to be stroked. I
wound my arms around his neck and brought myself flush against his body. He
slid his thigh between my legs and rubbed it against the vee of my body. I
sifted my fingers through his hair and brought our mouths together, and I
traced the seam of his mouth. When he opened to me, I slid my tongue past
his lips to glide against his tongue. I could taste the peach I had fed him
earlier.

His hands dropped down to cup my ass. The hair that dusted his thigh teased
my balls and the sensitive skin behind them, and he urged me to ride him
harder. I moaned into his mouth. "Let me... Please let me..."

My lover groaned and stepped out of my embrace. "No. Let *me*!" He crowded
me back against a tree that bordered the pool and knelt before me. I
watched, stunned, unable to believe what was happening. In our time
together, he had never done this, never given any indication that he might
even want to.

A drop of pre come beaded at the tip of my prick. His tongue flicked out to
gather it up and taste it. I wondered if he would like my taste, and then
he answered my unasked question; he hummed in approval and swallowed me to
the root, sucking hard. I flinched when his teeth scored over my shaft, and
he let me slip out of his mouth. "Sorry, kid."

"'Sokay, Mr. Denham." I stroked his hair. "Cover your teeth with your
lips."

"Like this?" He took me back into his mouth, this time careful not to
scrape me.

"Ye... oh, yes!"

His tongue curled around the crown, probed the slit, danced over the large
vein on the underside, but the touches were too light, too teasing. I
needed...

"More. Please!" I was finding it difficult to breathe.

He sat back on his heels, freeing me momentarily, and I groaned. His grin
was smug. "You bet, Johnny." He wasn't experienced, but then neither was
I. No one had ever done this for me.

My fingertips kneaded his scalp, and I rocked forward. Every once in a
while I'd thrust too deep into his throat and he'd gag. Every once in a
while he'd forget to watch his teeth, and I'd whimper, but when he
remembered, his mouth was like hot, wet silk encasing my prick.

He tickled my balls, then slid a finger past them and dipped into my hole.

"M... Mr. Denham!" My breathing was a harsh whine, and that was the best
warning I could give him before I started to come. He pulled off and milked
my spit-slicked shaft, catching some of the creamy fluid that exploded from
me in his hand. The back of my head hit the tree, and I closed my eyes,
seeing rockets and pin-wheels and roman candles.

When I opened my eyes again, he was panting and staring intently at the
liquid that coated his palm. He touched the tip of his tongue to it, his
dark eyes snaring mine, and then he started lapping at it.

"You taste good, Johnny," he said hoarsely, and my legs almost gave out
from under me.

He surged to his feet and leaned full length against me, which kept me from
sagging to the jungle floor. The urge to pour out my feelings was
overpowering, but his mouth on mine kept me silent. I tasted myself on his
tongue, and my breath hitched in a tiny moan.

His lips brushed over my cheek to my ear, and he nuzzled and nipped at
it. "Why didn't I ever do this before?"

I didn't know how to answer that. Instead, I reached for him. "Mr. Denham,
you didn't..."

"I did, kid." He looked down at my legs, a little bemused, and I realized
there was some semen spattered on them, as well as on the tree behind me
and on the ground. He'd jacked off while he'd pleasured me? "You were a bit
distracted, Johnny." He tugged a lock of my hair.

"I must have been. I didn't even hear you come."

"You didn't, did you?" He sounded proud of himself, and I had to smile. It
had been some time since he'd made me climax so hard I'd lost my senses. "I
think you had to be the only one who didn't hear me. I made enough noise to
scare off the birds. Or whatever the things that live in the trees here
are."

"I should have taken care of that for you," I murmured.

"Johnny, you always take care of me. It was high time for me to repay the
favor. Now let's get cleaned up again." But before we went back into the
pool, he pulled me into his arms once more. Another aspect of our
relationship that was changing. Before we'd left Dakang, he'd seldom wanted
to hold me, or be held, for that matter. "You... you're really something
special, you know that, kid? Last year I didn't know you existed, and now,
I don't think I can live without you! Fuck it, John Smith. I don't care
what the rest of the world thinks. We're going to be together for the rest
of our lives."

"But..."

"No." His hands were warm on my shoulders, and he gave me a little
shake. "No 'buts'. It's you and me, partners, from now on. Is that getting
through that thick skull of yours?"

I leaned forward and kissed him. "Loud and clear, Mr. Denham." I held on
tight for a moment longer, then released him, but again he didn't let me
go.

"And the next time, you won't wait until you think it's what I want; you'll
touch me because it's what *you* want?"

"I promise." I looked into my lover's dark eyes. Skull Island was a
dangerous place, and he had as much as admitted we'd never get off it. We
might not have much time, but what there was *would* be ours. I cleared my
throat. "You said something about getting cleaned up?"

His palm stroked down my arm to my hand, his fingers closed around it, and
he squeezed. He led me into the pool, which oddly enough, felt warmer. We
stayed in only long enough to wash the residue of our passion from our
bodies, and then got out.

Our clothes were dry for the most part, and we used the tails of our shirts
to wipe off the moisture. I finishing buttoning my trousers and looped the
canteens over my shoulders, then stepped into a shoe. "Mr. Denham, have you
seen my other shoe?"

He looked around and pointed toward the other end of the pool. "There,
Johnny." He began to laugh. "How did it get all the way over there?"

"It must have landed there when I kicked off my shoes. I was in a bit of a
rush." I hobbled across the grassy area. "You were naked, and I was in a
hurry to join you." I whistled innocently and slid my foot into my shoe. My
hair fell into my eyes as I finishing lacing it up, and I pushed the hair
impatiently behind my ear.  There was a flowering vine growing nearby, and
I broke off a thin, flexible stem. I stripped off the leaves and captured
my hair in both hands to tie it back, when something floating on the
water's surface caught my eye.

"C... Carl!" I backed away from it, away from the other carcasses that were
at the pool's edge.

He was at my side, his arm around me. "What the...? Jesus!" He was as
horrified as I was. "Oh, my god! Oh, my dear god!"

"What?" I'd never heard panic in his voice before, and it scared me.

"This wasn't a thermal pool!"

"But... but the water was warm!"

"Too warm! A fissure must have opened up on the bottom, allowing steam to
escape from the island's core. This was a regular pond! Look!"

More bodies of fish and other creatures that had made the pond their home
were floating belly up, the scales and hides peeling off.

"The water did feel hotter the second time we went in."

"The temperature must have been rising gradually. If we hadn't gotten out
when we did..."

The pool was beginning to bubble, and steam rose like a blanket from it. My
stomach heaved at the thought of how close we had come to being boiled
alive.

"Talk about your close calls!" My lover was trying not to appear disturbed
by it; after all he had a reputation of looking death in the face and
making it turn tail and run. But he was gnawing on his lower lip.

"Why didn't we see the bodies?"

"Who knows, kid?" He picked up the rifle. "Maybe it was just because we
were busy with... other things." He forced a smile to his lips and pulled
me against him. "We probably didn't smell them because they were literally
cooked!"

I held him closely. "Mr. Denham, you're shaking."

"No, Johnny. *You're* shaking." His arms tightened, and he whispered
against my hair, "It's oke, kid. We're alive!"

Yes, we were.

"Let's scram out of here."

****

We didn't waste any time getting away from that spot, but we hadn't gone
more than a few hundred yards when the ground began to shake, only this
time there was a deafening roar as well, like a hundred freight trains
barreling out of control.

A couple of years before Black Tuesday, when the stock market crashed, and
my old man did a swan dive out a skyscraper, he'd been in one of his rare,
expansive moods, and had taken me to Coney Island, where he'd let me ride
the Cyclone while he dallied with his latest quiff.

Its drops and hairpin turns were nothing compared to the roller coaster
ride Mr. Denham and I were on now.

The ground seemed to rise up to terrifying heights. Trees toppled, torn up
by the roots or snapped like twigs. Abruptly the ground fell out from
beneath us. We were flung forward into a scrub brush. As quickly as the
quake had started, it stopped.

"Damn," Mr. Denham growled as he spat leaves from his mouth and plucked
them from his hair. "Nothing like an earth tremor to scare the piss out of
you!" Involuntarily, my eyes dropped to his crotch, which was dry. "It's a
figure of speech, kid," he grinned wryly.

It almost hadn't been for me. "Are... are you oke?" I asked cautiously from
where I had landed between his legs.

"Yeah, just watch where you put that knee, kid." It was a feeble attempt at
a joke.

I backed off my lover carefully and rose to my feet, then extended a hand
to help him up as well. My foot skidded out from under me, and I landed
hard on my back. "Ooof!" The breath was knocked out of me, and I landed on
our canteens.

"Johnny, what happened?"

"That's... that's what I'd like to... like to know! What'd I st... step
on?"

My lover was studying the ground. "Holy smoke! Would you take a look at
that?"

I levered myself up and blinked dazedly as I tried to see what had his
attention. "That looks like a... Is that a banana peel?"

"I'll tell the world, kid!" Mr. Denham was crouching down, carefully
fingering the discoloring skin. He whistled between his teeth. "It's the
length of my entire arm!"

The fruit had been bitten off about three quarters of the way down, and
then the banana had apparently been tossed aside. "I don't think I want to
find out what was eating it!" I shivered, thinking of King Kong. I must
have said something aloud.

"I don't think that's a problem. Don't worry, Johnny." He smiled at me and
stood up, and this time he extended a hand to help me to my feet. "There
was only one Kong."

"You want to put that in writing, Mr. Denham?"

"Don't you trust me, Johnny?"

Only with my life. "Sure... what was that?" I spun around. It sounded like
whimpering.

"Let's go take a look see." There was excitement in his voice, and he
didn't wait for me to answer. He scooped up the rifle and grabbed my hand,
pulling me along after him.

I was winded from my fall, but not too winded to follow him. Branches
slapped at me, and I had to keep an arm across my face to avoid having my
eye poked out. The trail curved, and as we rounded it, he skidded to a
halt. I ran into his back. "Ooof...!"

He staggered, then steadied us both. "Shhh!"

We were on a small plateau. He eased close to the edge where a gouge
revealed damage done by that last quake.

"Carl! Be careful!"

He winked at me, then dropped to a knee, braced himself on his hands, and
peered down. I balanced my weight carefully on his shoulder and followed
his gaze.

Below us was a bog. On the outskirts were cat-tails and strange-looking
reeds whose ancestry had to date back to prehistory. Grasses had grown over
its surface, disguising the deadly spot, probably luring unsuspecting
creatures to their doom, thinking they were crossing solid ground, finding
differently too late, when it gave way beneath them.

A large area had been disturbed, revealing the true nature of the quagmire,
and trapped in the center was a creature that resembled an ape. A HUGE
ape. It was hard to discern his color because he was covered with the muck
of the bog. He was struggling futilely to free his legs but only succeeded
in sinking deeper.

"Well, what d' you know? A baby Kong!"

"*Baby*? Mr. Denham, that thing must be eight feet high!"

"That's just what you can see of him above the quicksand, Johnny. He's got
to be more like twelve!"

The ape-like creature chose that moment to look up at us. His eyes were
filled with almost human fear.

"Aw, hell, kid." My lover's expression was rueful. "I can't leave him
there. I can't do that to him, do you understand? I owe his old man!" He
slid down the side of the plateau, being careful to avoid the edge of the
bog, and I skidded down after him. "See that chunk of rock that's sinking?
It must have broken off. I'll bet he was standing on it, and that's how he
wound up in the quicksand. What can we...? There! That dead tree there! If
we can push it over, it'll give Little Kong something to hoist himself up
with."

The creature's mouth was open in a grimace of terror, and his teeth seemed
the size of tombstones. My mouth was dry with anxiety. "Oke, Mr. Denham. I
just hope you know what we're doing."

"Johnny, you don't have to..."

"I'm not going to let you go into danger alone." The tree was on the other
side of the bog. I made sure there was plenty of space between us and
Kong's offspring as we skirted it and approached the tree. "Jiminy
Crickets! Talk about being dead!" That close, it was easy to see the tree
had been lightning blasted. "This should be a push over!" I tried to joke.

Mr. Denham began to speak to the young animal, hoping to calm him, I
supposed, or maybe just to calm us. "Hello there, young fella. My name's
Denham. I'm the know-it-all who got your old man in dutch. I took him from
this island where he was king and sailed him across the ocean, and it's my
fault the old boy is dead. See, I introduced him to a skirt, and he fell
for her. Literally. You can't trust dames, know what I mean?" He was
rambling, and I wondered if he was as scared as I was. "Oke, now we're
going to help you, youngster. Just take it easy and stop struggling."

Maybe it was the soothing tone of my lover's voice. Maybe Little Kong
actually understood him. For whatever reason, the young animal stopped
fighting the pull of the muck, and stopped sinking as well. He watched with
interest, the intelligence in his dark eyes almost human.

"Put your back into it, kid." Mr. Denham grunted from the exertion.

It took a few tries, but we finally tipped the tree over, and it fell
crosswise in front of the young Kong. He flinched and blinked, and began to
sink again, but he seemed to realize that he could use the tree to get
himself free. He braced his arms on it and pushed himself up. Inch by
agonizing inch he fought the quicksand to free himself, and I stared in
unwilling fascination. A heavy hand dropped on my shoulder, and I jumped.

"C'mon, kid, let's give him some room!"

"Uh... good idea!"

We scrambled back up the plateau and watched from a safe distance. Soon the
creature had himself out of the morass and balanced on the downed tree
trunk. He stood there swaying on unsteady legs for a minute, then shook
some of the muck off and gazed up at us. His eyes were wide and curious
and... something else that I couldn't name.

"Attaboy!" my lover cheered, then frowned. "Don't just stand there!" he
exhorted the young animal. "Get off that thing before you fall back in!"

Little Kong stepped onto solid ground and sat down heavily, grunting as he
apparently hurt his ass. The aggrieved look on his face was almost human.

I chuckled. "Maybe we'd better be going now, Mr. Denham."

He paused for one last look behind. "Good luck to you, Little Kong."

The ape was still watching us as we faded back into the brush.

tbc