Planet of the Apes

by Rich Handley

  “Hold on,” called Alan Virdon.

  “There is no need to fear, White Eyes,” Apex snapped.

  “There’s no need for bloodshed if it is not necessary,” Virdon cautioned.

  Lifting his tomahawk angrily, Apex snarled, “That misshapen gorilla only understands violence. I will teach him what it tastes like. His own blood!”

  “Listen to me, Chief. Urko wants me and my friends. He has no quarrel with you.”

  “No, but I have a quarrel with him. He would wrest me from my saddle and take me forcibly to his camp to make me one of his tribe. I am a chief, not a stoop-backed gorilla.”

  “It appears to me that you are a little bit of both, Apex. But listen, instead of fighting Urko, let me do it.”

  “You!”

  “I fought Urko before.”

  “This is none of your affair! This is not about Urko’s mission—this is about our feud.”

  Suddenly, Pete was on the other side, saying, “Listen to him, Chief. Look, we appreciate your hospitality, but we don’t want people dying for it. Tell you what, you hold them off and we’ll head up to the hills, and take our chances there.”

  Chief Apex’s head swiveled back and forth between the two mounted humans, his eyes growing narrow and feral.

  “You spurn my hospitality?”

  “No,” returned Alan. “We have taken more than our share, and you have our gratitude for that. We want to push on, without causing you any more trouble.”

  “You brought no trouble. That stupid ape brought more than a full share. He insults me. Calls me his brother.” Apex spat his contempt onto the ground.

  “He thinks you belong with him,” returned Pete. “Pay Urko no mind. It’s not worth killing over.”

  Chief Apex’s jaw clamped shut. He seemed to be considering his response when Urko shouted over, “But he is my brother in blood. And his father—our father—misses him.”

  “What?”

  “Grud has never ceased grieving for the son he believes to be dead.”

  Galen was with them now, and his simian eyes were wide, his jaw hanging loose.

  Staring at Chief Apex, he blurted, “You? You are the long-lost son of Councilor Grud?”

  Apex sneered, “I am the son of no gorilla. I am of the Lost Tribe. Let no one speak otherwise, man or ape.”

  Alan demanded, “Galen, what are you talking about?”

  “Those rumors abounding in Central City of an apeling who went missing long ago,” he hissed. “It was the infant son of a noble. Never heard of again. Presumed dead all these years.”

  Studying Apex’s fearsome countenance, the chimpanzee added, “There is a resemblance. Around the nose and jowls, especially.”

  “Silence!”

  This from Chief Apex, who leaped back into the saddle of his horse. Wheeling his responsive appaloosa, he broke in the direction of Urko. Not expecting this, the other gorilla struggled to keep his dun stallion from shying, and his nervous troops from opening fire.

  Rifles jumped up in hirsute hands. But longbows steadied more quickly, and with unerring intent. Bowstrings were pulled back to their maximum tautness. Arrows flew.

  Before two breaths could be taken, Urko’s horse gorillas were twisting and falling off their mounts, which broke and scattered. Unpleasant groans emerged from simian mouths that leaked fresh blood. No arrow-impaled gorillas stood up. They could not. Most had been shot through the heart.

  In the blink of an eye, Urko sat alone in the saddle. His eyes turned to slits of menace as deep within him, a red rage burst forth.

  Lashing his mount, the furious gorilla officer charged the knot of feathered foes directly in front of him.

  Turning, Apex shouted, “Let none interfere! I will settle this now!”

  Pete, Alan, and Galen scattered as the opposing riders charged one another.

  “I will have your scalp!” screamed Apex.

  Urko brought his stallion up just short of his foe, dismounted, and waded in, intent on using his horny-knuckled fists.

  “Where is your weapon?” challenged Apex, leaping from his blanket saddle.

  “I do not need a weapon to settle this, my apeling brother!”

  At this, Apex swung his tomahawk in Urko’s direction, but the gorilla officer caught the warrior wrist that wielded the weapon. They struggled. The blade of chipped stone wavered close to Urko’s spasming nostrils.

  Exerting his strength, Apex attempted to force the sharp edge into Urko’s flat face. Gorilla muscles, locked in contention, creaked and groaned with the awful effort. Inch by inch, the blade neared, ready to bite into ape flesh.

  The two combatants stood toe to toe, feet stamping the dirt, throwing up dust. Eyeball to eyeball, they glared at one another.

  With a forceful lunge, Apex drove the blade home. Were it not for Urko’s powerfully resisting strength, his facial mask might have been split to the bone. But the sharp stone tooth sliced into his dark forehead, drawing blood, and the feeling of stone grating his skullbone gave Urko a final burst of might.

  Roaring his rage, he twisted Apex’s wrist once, forcefully. The weapon fell to the dirt. Urko stamped on it once, breaking the hickory handle in two. Then he kicked it away in separate pieces.

  The two hairy brutes collided then, fists and knuckles smashing, bare fangs snapping at pulsing jugulars. No longer semi-civilized apes, they became ferociously feral.

  Apex and Urko fought like wild animals, ripping at one another, teeth and nails tearing at matted flesh, blood crawling from fresh wounds like venomous crimson vipers. Bestial growls emerged from their open mouths.

  The tomahawk wound leaked blood into Urko’s eyes, blinding one blinking orb. The gorilla general shook his great head in an effort to toss the salty fluid aside. But it was no use. More blood poured, for the tomahawk had bitten deep. Coagulating, it glued the eye closed with its stickiness.

  “That which you taste in your mouth,” screamed Apex, “is the bitter salt of your defeat!”

  It was the wrong thing to say, for it was premature. Hearing this taunt, Urko redoubled his effort and smashed his feathered foe in the snout. Driven backward by the blow, Chief Apex lost his war bonnet, but not his footing. Or his ferocity.

  Roaring, he charged. Hairy fists lashed out, pounding furiously. Knuckles split. Blows were landed, traded, thwarted as each colossus desperately sought to best the other.

  A human being would have been battered into abject submission, if not ignominious death. But neither ape faltered. Both refused to surrender.

  They smashed at eyes, ears, and throats with their long, hairy arms. While every wild blow landed, none could finish the fight. Blood flew like scarlet spittle.

  Over time, their growls and grunts grew less loud, their alternating blows less punishing. Barrel chests heaved with exertion, and the unforgiving adversaries fell to panting like thirsty dogs.

  In the end, they exhausted themselves, faltered, long limbs swiping feebly at one another, and collapsed. Both warriors ended up in the dirt, flat on their backs, panting, growling, flinging dirt at one another, their rage and muscular energy entirely expended.

  Soon, even that pathetic defiance subsided. All their brute strength had fled. Only spite remained.

  Finally, one gorilla struggled up and found his feet: Apex. Righting his out-of-alignment jaw with one hand, he shambled over to his panting fellow anthropoid, spat blood into the befouled hair of his chest, and snapped, “Let that teach you never to enter my valley again.”

  “This is not over, renegade,” gasped Urko, hands flopping weakly.

  “It is over. For I have ended it. When you find your breath, turn south. If you head north, your hairy carcass will be filled with arrows and I will wear your scalp on my belt.”

  With that, Apex stormed over to Urko’s trembling stallion and gave it a hearty smack on the rump that sent it fleeing, so that his prostrate foe would suffer the indignity of walking home on foot.

  Gathering up his dilapidated w
ar bonnet, Apex reclaimed his appaloosa. Mounting up with difficulty, for one eye was sealed shut by sticky gore, he gave the order to ride north. And so the warriors of the Last Tribe followed, trailed by Alan Virdon, Peter Burke, and Galen the chimpanzee, their feathered-decorated heads held high.

  Breathing the choking dust of their departure, Urko lay panting and cursing. One hairy fist lifted with difficulty, then shook in quaking rage at the climbing sun.

  “I will have my vengeance on you all. All! Do you hear me, traitor?”

  Only the blackbirds in the trees heard that emotion-charged vengeance vow. Urko’s voice was reduced to a husky frog’s croaking, and every word expelled a frothy fountain of blood.

  * * *

  An hour along, they were single-footing through the heart of the valley as the fragrant campfire smoke of the Rez tickled their nostrils.

  Alan spoke up. “Urko will return with a larger legion, Chief.”

  Apex shook his heavy head solemnly. “He will not. Urko will not kill the one he mistakenly thinks is his brother in blood. That is his weakness. That is why I will always triumph over him. He is afraid to kill me.”

  “Why didn’t you finish him?” asked Pete. “You could have taken his scalp.”

  Apex snapped angrily. “I could not. For my tomahawk was broken.”

  That seemed an insufficient answer, but they let it pass. They could plainly see that Apex did not want to discuss it.

  Alan asked, “Why does Urko believe that you are his brother?”

  Apex was a long time in answering that. Finally, he growled sullenly, “Because he is a stupid gorilla. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  Wordlessly, Pete and Alan exchanged knowing glances.

  Galen offered only this: “Urko is sometimes smart, and other times not very intelligent at all. Among gorillas, that is what makes him a great leader. For, his rank aside, Urko is a soldier. His job is to obey orders, not question them.”

  Apex looked to the chimpanzee with a troubled brow.

  “You are smart,” he grunted.

  Galen beamed. “Thank you, Chief Apex.”

  “For a mere chimp,” added Apex dismissively.

  Galen’s jaw sank. His shoulders sagged in dejection.

  They rode along in silence a little while longer. Down from the Rez, aromas of food cooking stirred their appetites.

  “Once we rest up,” Alan informed Apex, “we plan to push north.”

  The chief did not look in his direction. “My hospitality does not suit you?”

  “It is generous and above reproach,” offered Pete. “But we have a quest to complete, for we seek our own people, and our own home fires.”

  Apex nodded. “I do not understand you pale people, but this much I do know: you are warriors in your own strange way. Go with my respect, and if you ever return, my hospitality will be unchanged.”

  So saying, Chief Apex spurred his appaloosa on ahead, obviously wishing to be alone with his thoughts, for his heavy gorilla features were troubled.

  Hanging back, Alan, Pete, and Galen exchanged uneasy looks.

  “Mark my words,” whispered Galen. “Urko will not take this insult lying down. The bad blood between them has gotten worse. Now it is boiling over. Urko will avenge his honor. Not even the fact that Apex is the lost son of Councilor Grud will dissuade him. For Urko will slay Apex without ever telling his father that his other son lived.”

  “I know it,” agreed Alan.

  “And Apex knows it,” added Pete. “Just as he is now realizing that Urko spoke the truth. You can see it’s eating at him, undermining his sense of self, his core identity. The chief has always believed that he was human—at least partially so. Now that the illusion has cracked, Apex will do anything to repair it. Crushing Urko is probably top of the list.”

  Alan nodded. “Let’s hope we’re far from this valley when that day comes.”

  “We can do better than that,” grunted Pete.

  Alan Virdon and Galen looked at Peter Burke quizzically.

  Pete grinned. “Since we’re hoping, let’s hope that when it happens, it takes place a thousand years in our future—because that will mean we’ll be home by then.”

  No more needed to be said. They fell in behind the silent file of warriors comprising the Last Tribe, whom the morning sun blessed with her life-affirming rays…

  * * *

  Bob Mayer’s “The Pacing Place” sets a central figure in the Apes universe on a path divergent to the one shown on the big screen, in an intriguing “what if?” tale that offers new hope for a weary future world…

  * * *

  THE PACING PLACE

  by

  BOB MAYER

  George Taylor named his first son Adam. Not a very original idea for the Earth he’d come from, but completely unique for the Earth to which he’d returned. The first few years, it hadn’t seemed to matter since no one else in Fort Wayne could write or speak.

  Taylor came to regret the motivation behind that decision later in life, an act of cynicism when he was still the man who’d volunteered for the ANSA mission.

  It was three years after Taylor and his fellow astronauts had returned to this Earth, but not his Earth, when Nova gave birth to Adam. By then, Fort Wayne boasted three dozen native humans, surviving at a subsistence level.

  He hadn’t wanted a child, but he had wanted Nova. And as he watched Nova nursing the baby, it occurred to him that she had made the decision for him. Without discussing it with him, which might have mattered on his Earth, but was moot here, because they couldn’t discuss anything. No matter how hard he tried to teach them, Nova and the others could not form words.

  When Adam was two, he reached up and pulled on Taylor’s beard and murmured “da-da.” And Taylor wept because language had returned to the humans.

  * * *

  Leaving the remains of the Statue of Liberty behind on the beach, Taylor rode as hard and as fast as he could, Nova clinging to him. Along the coast for miles, until surf pounding at the base of cliffs forced him to backtrack to the first place he could forge inland.

  Dunes and scrub gave way to desert as far as he could see. He was angry and foolish, pushing them into the desolation without forethought. He quickly understood why the apes called it the Forbidden Zone. Only a fool would try to pass this way, and in the brief time he’d been among them, he’d learned the apes weren’t fools.

  And why would anyone go this way when there was no clue as to what was on the other side of the desert? If there even was another side to the wasteland? The science part of him wondered about radiation, whether that was why nothing grew here, and why it was forbidden.

  But he and Nova had no choice. If they went back, they wouldn’t last long in the land of apes. Taylor knew he’d ignited a bonfire and humans were no longer tolerated among the apes, because they were now a threat.

  He tried not to dwell on his responsibility for that.

  As far as Nova was concerned, she showed no inclination either way, accepting his decision with the apparent apathy every human he’d run into on this Earth seemed imbued with.

  They suffered during the journey. A selfish part of Taylor was glad for once that Nova was mute and could not complain. They pushed on. The horse died on the second day. Taylor slit a vein and they drank as much of the blood as they could. He cut some meat off, but not much, since there was no way to cook it, and from his Air Force survival training he knew water was the only thing that mattered now. A person could go three weeks without food.

  He gave himself and Nova a max of two more days without water.

  Three days later, there was a speck of green on the horizon. Then more green. Eventually, they found water and green and life on the other side of the desert. Taylor picked the best spot he could find, in a wooded area on the side of a winding river.

  There was game and fish, and Taylor went back to his species’ ancestral ways of finding food as a hunter-gatherer. For Nova, it was life as it had always been.
r />   In this way, they survived.

  * * *

  He built a solid hut high in an old tree. And every night, as he pulled up the makeshift rope ladder, he felt as though he were locking the doors of the house and turning off the lights, and it would be a safe place during the darkness.

  The first couple showed up a month later. As best Taylor was able to determine, the apes had launched a pogrom against humans. The result was that the savvier of the humans had no choice but to try the Forbidden Zone.

  Where else could they go?

  How many had perished in the desert? Taylor didn’t want to know, and those who arrived couldn’t tell them what they saw. They’d only pantomimed apes attacking, and Taylor had been forced to truly accept that his arrival, and departure, in Ape City had caused a reaction.

  For the first time in his life, other than for Nova, Taylor had to accept responsibility for people other than himself.

  So Fort Wayne had begun to grow.

  * * *

  Adam’s birth changed things, even though Taylor wasn’t consciously aware of it. A woman was taken one night by a mountain lion, and the blood trail led into the wild. Now, the protection of Fort Wayne being in the Forbidden Zone wasn’t enough for Taylor. He wanted a Wall around the encampment for safety from more than just the apes.

  The Wall required time to build, so subsistence wasn’t sufficient. Taylor taught the others what he knew about farming from his childhood in Old Fort Wayne, which was the way he separated the memory place from the present place. He scoured his brain and remembered old history lessons of how the Egyptians had used the Nile for irrigation. He showed the others by example.

  Trial and error, but it got done.

  As civilization had taken root on his old Earth, it now began to take shape here. There was game and fish and now farming.

  The Wall went up eight months later. Nova tended to the communal garden with the other women, while Taylor led hunting parties. He also supervised construction projects, as most moved out of the trees and onto the ground, safe inside the Wall.