Day of the Bomb Read Online Free Page B

enemy
aircraft had strafed it. When the surviving PT boat crew waved from
a beach, the two P-47 pilots dipped their planes’ wings in response
and radioed base to launch a rescue of the survivors. Later, one of
the pilots died during the liberation of the Philippines, the other
went to work for the airlines after the war ended and retired from
the cockpits of Boeing 707s.
    The monkeys on the island rejoiced at the
rescue of the PT boat crew’s survivors, who had overstayed their
welcome by hunting down some of its inhabitants. Eleven of the
monkeys died as hungry sailors shot them for the meat on their
bones. That was why the remaining troop of simians chattered and
screeched fiercely as Kong approached the waterlogged Jason, who
lay unconscious on the beach and bruised from the dolphins’ game of
water polo.
    One yelled at Kong in the
language understood by their kind. The noise partially roused
Jason. He thought he heard the monkey say, “ Don’t do it! He looks like those who killed and ate some of
us. The two-legged creatures are worse than the rats.”
    Convinced he had been sentenced to a
netherworld where animals ruled over humans, Jason let his head
plop back on the wet sand and drifted back into unconsciousness.
The monkeys continued their chatter.
    Kong ignored them. Innately curious, he had
to know if the human in their midst was alive and what treasures he
had brought to Monkey Island. Kong noticed one of the man’s pockets
bulged so he slid his paw into it and retrieved $207 in U.S. paper
currency soaked in saltwater. The bills tasted bland so Kong spit
out what he had bitten off and took the money to the troop, which
quickly tore the ones, fives, tens, and twenties into bits as they
fought over the booty. Their pandemonium caused the invader to
stir.
    “Water…got to have water.”
    The movement and words caused the monkeys who
had ventured within ten feet of Jason to scatter as they renewed
their warnings to Kong.
    Kong retreated five paces but the man’s
pleading expression made him linger.
    “Water…water.”
    Kong understood the repeated word to mean
breadfruit. So he scampered to the nearest tree, climbed it, and
knocked a plump breadfruit to the ground. Then he rolled it to
Jason’s side. The fall had split the ripe fruit and the smell of
the pulp wafted up the famished man’s nose. He forced his body into
a sitting position and scooped the mushy pulp into his mouth. Ten
minutes later the only creature on the island willing to help him
rolled a coconut to him. Jason smashed it on the largest rock
within reach until he could drain its liquid through a crack into
his parched mouth. Revived somewhat, he turned to his new friend
and named him.
    “Thanks, Kong.” Jason finished breaking the
coconut into pieces. He tossed a chunk to Kong and they gnawed at
the white flesh of the nut. The monkey liked this human, the first
who had not tried to shoot him so that he could be barbequed on a
spit.
    He chattered to his troop that this human was
different.
    Jason watched the monkeys communicating.
“Yeah, you’re Kong all right. The king of Monkey Island. So what’s
it like living here? Any friendly natives around, Kong?”
    Kong cocked his head.
    “You know. Me Tarzan. You Kong. Where’s
Jane?” Jason traced the outline of the female of his species.
    Kong scratched his head.
    “Never mind. I got to figure out how best to
get off of this piece of rock.” As Jason stood, Kong ran back to
his own kind. “See you later, Kong.” He waved. “Find water first.”
He repeated the Professor’s words. “You can last for weeks without
food but only days without water. Shoot, what I wouldn’t give for a
K-ration right now.”
    Ah, K-rations, color coded meals known the
world over to GI Joes. Brown boxes were for breakfast, the green
ones for supper, and blue boxes for dinner. Yummy for your tummy.
That is if you’re stuck on some island in the middle of the Pacific
and they are the only food