Godzilla vs. Kong, Greg Keyes [korean novels in english .txt] 📗

House, Jia signed. Big house.

“That has to be it,” Nathan said.

As they drew closer, the red-gold glow became more pronounced.

“Is that … magma?” she asked.

“It’s not a volcano,” Nathan said. “At least, not like any I’ve ever seen. But yeah, I think you’re right. If I had to guess, I would say that there is so much of the life-force energy here, it’s causing the rock to heat up and glow.”

“Do you think it’s dangerous?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” Nathan replied.

Even closer, Ilene saw that she’d been right, or at least partly so. The mountain itself was probably natural originally, but it had clearly been modified. What at first had appeared to be a hornlike split at the top of the central peak was actually a facade carved to suggest columns flanking what was an arched stone temple door, defined with a carved double-arch around it.

The myths and legends, the cave paintings, the hieroglyphs. They all pointed to this. The ancestors of the Iwi and Kong were from here, and Kong knew it. Felt it in his bones.

Ishiro Serizawa had proven that Godzilla—or others like his kind—had human followers, that they had built a great civilization, and a temple dedicated to him. She had long believed the same was true of Kong, and here was the proof. The ancestors of Jia’s people must have lived here, built this holy place for their gods, Kong’s ancestors.

She realized that she was tearing up as she watched Kong approach the structure with what appeared to be something akin to … reverence.

Then he approached the gates. The doors themselves were plain—except for a single, very large, red handprint on one of them. Ilene had seen prints like that before, found all over the world in the caves and rock shelters of her own prehistoric ancestors. They were markers, signs—I was here. We were here.

Kong roared, but it was not like any sound she’d ever heard issue from his throat. It was … a question. He tilted his head—as if listening for a response—then repeated the sound—then listened again.

When no answer came, Kong placed his hand on the print. It was almost, but not quite, a perfect match. She saw it on his face as he understood what that meant. A different member of his species had made this. He was not the only one.

Kong studied the gate for a little longer. Then he pushed it, then pushed harder—and the doors swung open.

The HEAVs followed him but kept their distance. Ilene couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Inside was huge, mysterious. It reminded her a little of a cathedral, for it had a row of arches enclosing a vast circular space and stone columns reaching high into darkness. There was an immense central pillar, although it looked like a natural formation that had been minimally carved. The upper reaches of the temple—for that’s what it was—looked entirely natural, with stalactites hanging down. More of the red handprints were visible in the deep recesses of the place, and what were almost certainly paintings.

The glowing blue seams in the stone were everywhere here, and the stone of the floor glowed here and there with reddish hotspots, like magma was pooled just below the surface. Scatterings of huge bones were visible in that dim light; in the brighter HEAV floodlights they were recognizable as those of Titans. And one, still largely articulated, seemed especially familiar. She had seen pictures of such skeletons, from the Philippines, and elsewhere. She’d seen bones like this covered in muscle and scale. It was a species that resembled Godzilla.

Kong noticed the remains. He stared at them at first without comprehension, but then she saw fury dawn on his features. He stood over the skeleton for a moment and then, with great deliberation he bent toward the reptilian neck. She saw something was lodged there, and as she watched he took hold of it, pulled, and then yanked it free and held it aloft, beating his chest. It looked for all the world like some sort of outlandish scepter, sized for Kong.

“Congratulations,” Nathan said. “You were right.”

She nodded. “He’s home.”

And as if he also recognized that fact, Kong approached the central pillar, holding his prize, and sat down upon a seat carved into the base of it. And now he was complete; the throne, the scepter, the king.

He roared once again, and something changed in the set of his shoulders. In his expression. Even though there were no other living members of his species here, he knew he was part of something bigger and older than himself. That ancestors of his had sat on this same throne, in this place.

Like her, Jia had just been taking everything in, but now she began signing.

Kong’s family, she signed.

Yes, she replied. This was their place. Built for him by your people.

Jia looked at her, puzzled, then shook her head.

The Iwi lived here with Kong’s family, yes, she signed. But this was built by Kong’s family.

What do you mean? Ilene asked. How do you know?

I remember the story now, Jia said. Look, nothing small here. Nothing the size of Iwi. This was built by Kongs.

And in a sudden flash, Ilene realized that had to be true. Humans could have built this place, given time, and numbers, and basic machines like block-and-tackle. But they hadn’t. Now that she looked more closely, with different eyes, it didn’t look like human architecture, and not just because of the scale.

The HEAVs settled down and quietly, cautiously, Ilene and the others climbed out and entered the cavernous temple. Standing on the floor in front of Kong, she felt as tiny as an insect, just as the Iwi must have felt, gathered around him. Kong watched them for a moment, but quickly lost interest—he seemed absorbed in his own thoughts.

Jia tugged at her hand, pulling Ilene toward something. At first it just looked like a series of incisions in the floor, forming a circle around the column the throne was carved into. But as they walked the circle,