by Jim Beard
Professor Tarquin’s praise made Cornelius swell with pride. From this day forward, he would be in the history scrolls, his name taught to every generation of ape who followed him. The reality of it was dizzying, if all too short-lived.
Baako’s painted brows bunched in confusion. “Ape and man have never been in this valley, only baboon. The band escaped to this place long after the great fires scorched the earth and made it Forbidden. It is our home now, but it is not the Garden.”
The look of elation dropped from Professor Tarquin’s face, to be replaced by one of annoyance. “What do you mean, ‘escaped’?”
Baako ignored the question and instead sniffed the air. “You must leave,” the baboon said in an urgent voice. “Now.”
“Who are you to tell us what to do, monkey?” Doctor Atticus snorted in derision. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking t—” Before Atticus could finish his sentence, a spear struck him in the chest, piercing his sternum. The impaled chimpanzee stared at it in confusion for a long moment before dropping to the ground like a sack of wet laundry.
“Run!” Baako cried as he grabbed Cornelius by the arm. “Shaka is here!” The baboon dragged the chimpanzee back toward the tree line and away from the center of the camp, hiding him behind a fallen log.
Suddenly, the air was filled by a flight of spears, accompanied by a crazed shrieking that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere—as if the valley itself was screaming. The screams were echoed by Ovid and Quintus as they were struck multiple times by the deadly projectiles.
Cornelius looked up from behind the log in time to see Professor Tarquin running toward the horses at the far end of the clearing. One of the packhorses rose up onto its hind legs, slashing at the air with its hooves as it whinnied in terror, only to catch spears to its flank, throat, and exposed belly. As the mortally wounded animal crashed to the ground, Professor Tarquin leapt onto the back of his unbridled stallion. The roan wheeled about and plunged into the underbrush, Tarquin clinging to its neck for dear life. Within seconds, both horse and rider were lost from sight, as though the jungle had swallowed them whole.
Cornelius turned his attention back to the camp as a troop of two dozen baboons entered the blood-soaked clearing. They were all, more or less, identical to Baako, in terms of appearance and adornment, save for some who were armed with wooden spear-throwers, which explained the deadly velocity and accuracy of their attack. At the forefront was a large male whose thick mantle of silver-gray hair instilled a palpable aura of command. Cornelius had no doubts that he was looking at none other than the fabled Shaka. The baboon chieftain walked over to where Doctor Atticus’ body lay sprawled on the ground and snatched the carbine rifle from the chimpanzee’s cooling hands, inspecting the loaded weapon by first sniffing it, and then peering down the barrel.
One of the other baboons made an urgent grunting noise and gestured to something on the ground. Shaka cast aside the unfired rifle and turned to look where his subordinate was pointing. To his horror, Cornelius saw his fellow student, Ovid, lying in the trampled grass. Although Quintus had been killed instantly during the attack, the orangutan had not been so lucky, moaning in agony as he clutched at the javelin jutting from his side. Shaka grunted and nodded his head. The other baboon gave a blood-curdling scream of aggression and charged forward, brandishing a wooden stick with a large rock lashed to one end. Ovid shrieked in panic and raised a blood-smeared hand in a feeble attempt to fend off his attacker. The baboon warrior peeled back his upper lip and brought the club down on the wounded ape’s skull, smashing it like a ripe melon.
Upon a signal from Shaka, the rest of the troop began to ransack the camp, hooting and screeching in unison. Cornelius watched helplessly as Professor Tarquin’s journals were shredded, the pages tossed into the air like so much confetti, medical supplies were scattered about, and the crates containing Doctor Atticus’ scientific equipment were smashed open as if they were eggs.
“Run into the woods,” Baako whispered. “Do it before they see you.”
However, before Cornelius could move, Shaka turned around and bellowed, “Baako! Bring me the ape!”
The younger baboon flinched and glanced down, locking eyes with Cornelius. “No, Shaka!” Baako said with a defiant shake of his head. “This ape is no danger to the band!”
Shaka’s upper lip curled back in an angry sneer, revealing a pair of two-inch-long fangs. “This one and the others came looking for us! They want to take us back in chains, like they did before!”
“That’s not true!” Cornelius said as he stood up, knocking the dirt from his olive-colored tunic. “We had no idea baboons still existed, much less were living in this valley! We came here on a scientific expedition to locate the cradle of ape civiliza—”
“Liar!” Shaka bellowed as he advanced on Cornelius. “You came here to bring us back! That is why no ape can leave this valley!”
“No! The ape speaks the truth!” Baako barked, putting himself between Cornelius and Shaka. “Apes think we are dead! There is no point in hiding from them! No point in the Law!”
“Blasphemer!” Shaka shrieked, launching himself at Baako. The younger baboon did not back down, but instead hurled himself forward, screeching at the top of his lungs. The other members of the troop crowded in close, adding their own screams and yells to the horrendous cacophony.
The two baboons punched and clawed at one another, tearing out clumps of hair as they grappled for position. Cornelius had heard of humans fighting to the death over access to food or females, but he had never seen anything resembling an ape engage in such violence. He was both frightened and appalled by the naked savagery on display, even though he knew his own life was in the balance.
With a high-pitched shriek, Shaka hurled Baako to the ground hard enough to stun him. Cornelius’ stomach tied itself into a cold knot as the baboon chieftain fixed his bloodshot eyes on him. It was too late to run—and there was nowhere to go, if he did. Assuming Shaka didn’t bring him down before he could take two strides, the rest of the troop would run him to ground and tear him limb from limb. Zira’s face abruptly filled his mind’s eye, and Cornelius wished he had never left her side.
“Apes are not our brothers,” Shaka growled, spittle dripping from his exposed fangs. “They have no place among us.” However, as he took his first step toward Cornelius, Baako suddenly rose up from the ground and plunged his flint knife into the elder baboon’s inner thigh, slicing through the femoral artery with a single, brutal cut.
Shaka screamed yet again, this time in genuine agony, his life gushing forth with every beat of his heart. Baako struggled to his feet and limped over to the rifle Shaka had casually tossed aside only moments ago. As the baboon chieftain fell to his knees, Baako picked up the gun, holding it by the barrel.
“No!” Cornelius shouted. “There’s no need to do that now!”
Baako gave no sign of hearing him as he swung the carbine about, bringing the wooden stock down on Shaka’s head as hard as he could. Cornelius grimaced and quickly looked away as Baako struck repeatedly, reducing his opponent’s skull to a bloody pulp. Although Shaka was responsible for the deaths of his friends and had every intention of killing him as well, Cornelius was still a civilized ape, unaccustomed to such brutality, and took no pleasure in the demise of his enemy. Indeed, the very idea of murder was anathema to apekind and their greatest taboo.
The screams and hoots of the remaining baboons were instantly silenced as Shaka’s blood splashed across the clearing. The troop exchanged uneasy glances with one another and grunted in consternation as they rocked back and forth. Baako turned to face them, holding the bloodied rifle over his head, and placed one foot on their fallen leader’s body.
“The ape is under my protection!” he barked, pointing at Cornelius. “Understood?” The assembled baboons grunted and nodded their heads, conceding to the new chieftain’s wishes. “Kojo! Chuka! Take Father’s body back to the village for burial.”
“Why w
ould you kill your own father to save me?” Cornelius gasped.
“He was the old way,” Baako replied as he watched his brothers lift Shaka’s corpse by its arms and legs. “I am the new way.”
* * *
The baboon village was ten miles from the clearing, and if he had not been escorted there by its inhabitants, Cornelius seriously doubted he would have ever spotted it on his own. Unlike the earth-bound stucco and adobe constructs of Ape City, the baboons lived in the canopy of the jungle in an intricate network of covered platforms interconnected by rope bridges and braided ladder ways. The overall appearance of the treetop community was somewhere between a bird’s nest and a spider’s web perched fifty feet above the jungle floor. By sleeping in the trees, they were safe from not only the battle-pigs that called the valley home, but also the cave bears that lived in the nearby mountains and came down to feed on the fish in the river.
Upon their arrival, Baako’s usurping of Shaka’s role as leader was accepted by his new subjects without argument. The new chieftain was greeted by his predecessor’s harem, which gathered about him and methodically groomed him in full view of the entire village in what was the most intimate public display Cornelius had ever seen.
As the much smaller females, whose hair was dark brown as opposed to the silver-gray of the male baboons, plucked the nits from their new chieftain’s mantle, Cornelius blushed and quickly looked away. In Ape City, every species hid their body hair, while the baboons walked around almost fully exposed, doing nothing to hide their bright red butt-cheeks. Instead of stimulating him, all it did was turn his mind once more to Zira. Whereas before he had simply missed her terribly, now he was truly fearful he might never see her again. He could only offer prayers that Professor Tarquin had succeeded in escaping the valley and was on his way back to civilization. However, the Southern Valley was at the farthest extreme of ape territory, a good four days’ ride from the nearest garrison. Assuming Tarquin did make it out of the valley, it could be some time before anyone came looking for him.
As night fell upon the valley, the baboon called Kojo took Cornelius to a small platform outfitted with a hammock and a low table laden with ripe fruit, neatly folded palm leaves stuffed with roasted grubs, and a hollow gourd filled with palm wine. At the sight of the repast laid before him, Cornelius’ belly rumbled, reminding him that he had not eaten since the night before. While he feasted on succulent papaya and sweet mangoes, he was joined by Baako, who now wore the ivory pectoral that once belonged to Shaka.
“Is our food to your liking?”
“Yes, thank you,” Cornelius replied. “But what I would like even more is to return to Ape City.”
Baako shifted about uneasily and scratched at his ear. “Shaka’s old lieutenants, my uncles and brothers, have accepted me as chieftain. They also accept that you are not to be harmed. Shaka was the old way. I am the new. I have changed many things today, but if I allow you to leave the valley, I risk revolt.”
“Why do baboons live in such fear of apes? Shaka mentioned something about your ancestors fleeing my kind. What did he mean by that? There is no history of animosity between your species and mine that I’m aware of.”
Baako sighed and picked up a piece of fruit from the platter, turning it around in his hands. “Apes are the reason we are in this valley. They are the reason your friends were killed today. They are the reason I have my brothers hunting for the chimpanzee who escaped on the horse, the one who thought this place was the Garden.
“He was not entirely wrong, you know. Long ago, back in the Garden, apes, baboons, and humans lived side by side in harmony. Then, one day, the humans set fire to the Garden and laid it to waste. The world beyond the Garden was far harsher and more dangerous than anything they had known before. Because of this, your kind declared that since baboons were monkeys, we were more than human, but less than ape. That meant it was our place to serve apes, not rule alongside them.”
“You were made slaves?” Cornelius gasped, aghast at the very suggestion.
“They tried,” Baako said, with more than a trace of pride in his voice. “But baboons are not easily tamed. We rose up against the apes. There was fire and blood, and many, many baboons were put to the sword for daring to rebel. When the apes realized they could not break us, they chose to destroy us. Those who survived the uprising and the purge that followed fled beyond the mountains, until we found this valley. We have been here ever since, living in peace, yet fearing the day when the apes would drag us back to their city in chains. That is why we made the Law. Today I changed the Law, but I dare not break it. That is why you cannot return home.”
“Baako, I’m deeply sorry for what my ancestors did to yours, but I assure you that such things would never happen now. Apekind has evolved beyond those early, primitive days. We’re far more enlightened now, thanks to the teachings of the Lawgiver. And while I understand why you feel like you have to do this, the simple fact is that I do not belong here!” Cornelius protested. “I appreciate everything you have done for me, but I must return home. I have someone waiting for me—someone who means everything to me.”
“A mate?”
“Yes—I mean, no. Not yet, anyway.”
“Your sister?”
“Damn it, stop asking me that!” Cornelius said, rolling his eyes.
It took Cornelius a moment to recognize the noise Baako was making was laughter. He smiled and joined in. It felt good to share a joke with a friend.
* * *
In the days that followed, Cornelius found himself in the unique position of being both an honored guest and a prisoner. Although he was allowed to wander about wherever he liked, he was keenly aware of being constantly under watch. No matter where he went or what he did, one of Baako’s sub-lieutenants was always hovering around somewhere in the background.
At first, he was frustrated by the constant surveillance, but as the days went by, he realized that, as an archeologist, he was in a unique position to learn about a civilization long believed to be extinct. Instead of digging up the fossilized remains of their culture, he could observe it in real time, without any of the messy guesswork as to what their day-to-day habits actually were.
To his surprise, he discovered, despite the occasional alarming outburst, that the baboons were an extremely close-knit and cooperative society, working tirelessly for the betterment of the band, as opposed to the glorification of the individual. Although they practiced neither agriculture nor animal husbandry, their adopted home provided them with ample bounty. During the day, the adult females and juveniles of both sexes foraged for fruits, nuts, and whatever vegetables could be found, while the adult males would go on hunts for wild game that often took them to the farthest reaches of the valley. Come nightfall, they would regroup in their village, where they spent the evenings bonding by swapping stories, grooming one another and playing with their children. Most importantly, perhaps because they were all of the same species, they did not engage in the constant ethnic infighting that characterized ape culture. In many ways, Cornelius envied them their simple lives.
At the end of his first week among the baboons, whatever hopes Cornelius had of being delivered from his predicament disappeared when one of the hunting parties returned with what remained of Professor Tarquin’s horse. Although there was no sign of the rider, the roan stallion had clearly fallen prey to a cave bear. As the days stretched on, the band gradually lost their initial hesitancy concerning the chimpanzee in their midst and came to accept him, as much as they ever could, even to the point of allowing Cornelius to play with their children. Each night, Baako would come to visit and drink palm wine and ask him questions about Ape City and the world beyond the Southern Valley. Cornelius soon learned that his new friend was quite intelligent, despite his lack of formal education, and was genuinely concerned as to the welfare of his subjects. As leaders went, Cornelius decided that the baboons of the Southern Valley could have done far worse.
Six weeks into Baako’s rule, Co
rnelius was accompanying a group of foragers as they combed one of the groves for that evening’s meal. It was a beautiful, sunny day, with a sky as blue as a parrot’s wing. The female baboons, who lacked the males’ thick, cape-like layer of hair about the shoulders, were contentedly chattering among themselves, gathering fresh fruits and nuts in wickerwork baskets. The young baboons who were able to walk helped with the foraging, while the infants were carried on their mothers’ back in slings woven from the same palm fibers used to make the adults’ hammocks.
As Cornelius studied the idyllic scene before him, he wished Zira could be there with him to see it, and wondered what she would have to say about it all. In many ways, the only thing that made his life with Baako’s tribe unpleasant was his separation from the only female he had truly cared about. So focused was he on thoughts of his far-away love, Cornelius did not notice the rustling sound behind him until a palm was clamped over his muzzle and he was yanked into the underbrush. Cornelius struggled against his unseen kidnapper, biting at the hand covering his mouth.
“Ow! Damn it, Cornelius! Stop! I’m trying to save you!”
“Professor Tarquin?” The young chimpanzee stopped his wild flailing and turned to stare in amazement at his mentor, who was now considerably thinner and had a fresh scar bisecting his brow ridge, but was otherwise in one piece. “You’re supposed to be dead!”
“It’s not from a lack of trying,” Tarquin replied, pointing to the wound on his forehead. “I was attacked by a cave bear while trying to escape the valley. Luckily, it preferred the taste of horsemeat. I had to make my way through the mountain pass on foot, but somehow I made my way down. A farmer found me wandering through his field, delirious with fever, and nursed me back to health. After that, it was still a three-day walk to the nearest garrison. It took some time to convince them that I wasn’t simply a raving lunatic—”