death of king kong

But this time, in the instant before its turn, the plane’s machine gun poured burning lead into Kong’s chest. The other planes dived after it, relentlessly spitting fire into Kong’s back and sides. Kong bellowed his rage, his arms flailing wildly, vainly reaching for the strange tormentors, flashing past maddeningly out of reach.
Ann closed her eyes and covered her ears, huddling against the metal of the dome atop which Kong stood. The pilots hadn’t seen her, must have assumed that Kong had dropped her. Bullets screamed as they spanged off the metal dome, and Ann shrank away from them. Then, as abruptly as it had started, the gunfire stopped. Kong’s oppressors peeled away to circle at a safe distance, as if to gauge the effect of their assault. Ann couldn’t even hear them, for the wind swallowed the scream of their engines. The beast’s roars slowly subsided, and he turned to look down at her.
In the strange silence, the slow cones of the searchlights from the street below swept over Kong, over the planes. As one light lifted the veil of darkness from Kong’s shadowy figure, Ann saw with a shock that his expression had an odd touch of reproach and regret, like that of a child accused of some wrongdoing and not knowing what it was. His gaze was—
Ann had never seen that expression on a man’s face. Oh, she had received plenty of lascivious looks on the streets of New York. But Kong’s features were strangely innocent as he slowly reached down one finger to caress her. She realized he wanted her, but not in the manner of a city wolf.
His oddly human eyes shone with—with adoration, with a pure and innocent worship.
Perhaps he thought he was protecting her. For a brief instant Ann felt a rush of—pity? Affection? Loathing? She could not tell. In her exhaustion and heightened state of fear, a heartbeat away from shock, her emotions fluctuated wildly, and she had the strange feeling of hovering between life and death. She could not for that moment tell if she was experiencing reality or a dream.
It was then she felt the warm drip of viscous blood flowing down Kong’s arm, off his fingers and onto her skin. Fear, terror she could not control, suddenly erupted within her, and Ann began to shriek hysterically, even as part of her mind told her no one would hear her voice.
The scream of airplane engines exploded in her ears, and immediately Kong’s roars challenged them as once more Ann heard the thudding drumbeat of his fists upon his chest. The blaze of multiple machine guns tore the night to fevered chaos. One of the planes ventured too close to Kong’s straining arms.
The giant struck, struck hard, and ripped the tail section from the aircraft. Ann heard a momentary cry of terror from its crew as the plane spun down, like some wounded bird, in a death spiral. Halfway down it crashed into the wall and burst into flames as it bounced off. Then it was gone, and the night fell strangely silent. Again Ann heard only the sound of whistling air and saw only the methodical searching of the lights.
Ann screamed no longer. Now in the relative quiet she could hear Kong’s low moaning, his soft gurgled cough. A plane swooped past, and in the wavering glare of a searchlight, Ann saw the bullets rip into Kong’s hide. She saw his coarse hair jerk and rip off his body in bloody clumps.
The great beast staggered. He brushed Ann as he painfully slid off the parapet, straining to gain easier footing below, on the circular roof space where Ann lay. Kong turned slowly, as though to pick her up.
He stopped, staring down at Ann with a puzzled, hurt look. He fought to stand erect, but weakness forced him to hold the spire with both hands as he began to cough again. Kong then gazed about himself and seemed unable to comprehend the flow of his blood, the creeping numbness in his limbs. As he alternately moved his arms to inspect himself, Ann could clearly see the many wounds in his torso, the crimson punctures over his heart. Ann knew Kong was dying.
From high in the dawning light, the planes swooped down again. With one last look at Ann, Kong rose up. His roars broke into a harsh, rending cough, but he still straightened to his greatest height. He thumped his chest as wildly as ever, in a fierce, unconquerable gesture of final defiance.
One after another the planes screamed down, each poised in turn for a murderous instant, and then curved away. The rattle of the machine guns drowned out Kong’s bellowed challenge. Suddenly he swayed, and in spite of his gripping feet, began to topple. As he painfully caught himself in an effort to regain his balance, his gaze met Ann’s for one last time.
His eyes were heartbreakingly weary, but in them was a look she had not seen since he was on the island, the king of all he surveyed. Then Kong turned to face his attackers.
Indomitable, he fought to the end. With his last bit of strength he leaped for the last plane as it flashed past. He missed, but his mighty spring had carried him clear of the setbacks below, and out above the street.
Ann could never quite understand or explain what happened next. All fear left her, and with crystal clarity she saw Kong hang, motionless, as though time had stopped. She imagined him in the same regal loneliness that had been his upon the summit of Skull Mountain. Once again a king and a god, gazing upon the world he knew. King Kong. Ancient. Eternal.
Then time moved again. In the next instant, he was gone.


Merian C. Cooper's King Kong, Chapter 24