by Jim Beard
The riders came to a halt in the common area. Brutus dismounted as Caesar descended from the treehouse he shared with his wife and fourth child, climbing more slowly than he’d once been capable. “My son,” he said, adding in a low voice, “How was the expedition?”
“Long and tiring, like an orangutan’s sermon,” Brutus said. “It’s good to be home.” More quietly, he warned, “Not all of them favor your proposition, Father. Don’t expect miracles today… especially from the son. It’s been an interesting trip.” He rubbed the back of his head.
Lisa left young Armand with his sister Zoe and her mate, then joined MacDonald and Virgil next to Caesar. Gorillas stood at attention, weapons pointed downward. General Athen had ordered them to avoid appearing belligerent, per Caesar’s request, and to their credit, the gorillas were doing as she’d instructed.
“His Holiness, Mendez I,” Gorman announced as the young man in purple dismounted and helped Mendez to do the same. Though stooped, the mutant monarch was strong for someone who had lived decades in a radioactive wasteland. So were they all, Caesar noted of his retinue, epidermal damage notwithstanding.
“Welcome,” Caesar said. “I’m honored that you have come.” He introduced his advisors and family, and the elder human nodded at each in turn, smiling at MacDonald as though in recognition. MacDonald glanced at Virgil, who raised an apprehensive eyebrow.
“Thank you for your gracious invitation, Caesar,” Mendez said.
“It’s my honor to welcome you to Ape City,” Caesar replied.
Mendez indicated his entourage. “My cardinals, Van-Nga Alma and Rod Gorman, and my son Steven, who shall one day succeed me in guiding the Fellowship.”
“Then we have something in common. I am grooming Brutus to replace me as well.”
“They may come after us,” Mendez said, “but I like to think of myself as irreplaceable.”
“Yes, of course,” Caesar replied with a soft laugh. “It’s of replacements that I’d hoped to speak—replacing the conflicts of our past with the promise of a united future. The losses we both suffered have weighed heavily on my mind. It’s my hope that together, we can ensure the safety of the world our children will inherit.”
“That’s my hope as well, Caesar,” Mendez said. “We are a people changed by war, but God has shown us a different path. Perhaps, in time, you and I can walk it together.”
Caesar smiled. “I would like that.” He gestured to a tent nearby. “Please come this way, Mr. Mendez.”
“Mendez is fine,” he said. “We’ve met before, though admittedly under less pleasant circumstances. This isn’t my first visit to Ape City.”
A murmur spread through the crowd as Mendez and his entourage headed for the tent. Caesar cocked an eyebrow toward Lisa, who shrugged.
“Have we?” He scrunched his nose. “Hmm.”
* * *
A long, wooden table had been prepared in the tent, with dried fruit, fresh bread, and pitchers of water and sweet juices. Caesar and Mendez I sat at opposite ends. Steven, Alma, and Gorman lined one side, with other members of their party in a second row, near one wall. Across from Mendez’s inner circle sat MacDonald, Lisa, Virgil, and Brutus.
General Athen and two gorilla soldiers stood along the wall behind Caesar’s cabinet. Lieutenant Kwai noticed Karne and his friends trying to listen in between the tent’s folds, and shooed the children away with a stomp.
MacDonald broke the silence. “Mendez, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I have to admit to some surprise that this meeting is taking place. When Caesar mentioned what he had in mind, I was skeptical.”
“How so, Mr. MacDonald?” Mendez asked.
“MacDonald was concerned that my son’s expedition might receive an unfriendly welcome,” Caesar explained. “His advice is invaluable, but I’m afraid he sometimes worries too much.” MacDonald glanced sideways at the chimp.
Mendez smiled. “Humans do have a tendency to do that.”
“Well, I’m glad to have been proven wrong,” MacDonald said.
“Of course, those same concerns had crossed my mind,” Caesar admitted. “Our cultures haven’t interacted in two decades. I had no idea what to expect.”
“Yet you sent your son into radioactive territory inhabited by your enemies,” Alma noted, her expression unreadable.
“My father didn’t ask me to do anything I wasn’t willing to do,” Brutus said, though he wondered, given his persistent headache, if Virgil had underestimated the health hazard.
“Perhaps apes don’t value their children as we do,” Steven said.
Brutus rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Here we go…”
Mendez shot his son an angry look. “That’s not helpful, Steven. We’re guests here.”
Lisa’s posture straightened. “Of course we value our children. Caesar loves our son. You’ll never meet a more devoted father. He values all of his people.”
“If that’s true,” Steven asked, “then why is this village called Ape City? Clearly, some here are more valued than others.”
“Now, just a minute—” Brutus began.
“Please forgive my son’s ill-chosen words,” Mendez interrupted. “The trip here was long, and we’re all tired. He meant no insult.”
“With all due respect, Mendez, I think it’s clear to everyone what he meant,” Brutus said. “It was clear yesterday.”
“Please, everyone, let’s remember why we’re here,” Caesar said calmly. He turned to Alma. “Sending my son to the Forbidden City was not something I did lightly, believe me. I thought the risk worth taking because I’d hoped it would lead to this discussion… such as it is.”
“‘Forbidden City,’” Steven repeated. “That name denigrates us. Ours is a Holy City. It is the home of our God. You speak of peace, yet disrespect us in the next breath.”
“I meant no offense, of course,” Caesar said hastily. “My words were ill-chosen.”
“Caesar believes meaningful peace comes from inclusion,” Virgil said, “not isolation.”
“Whereas I care even less for what a chimpanzee believes than I do an orangutan.”
“Steven,” Mendez said sharply. “That is enough.”
Uncomfortable seconds passed.
“This… may take some time,” MacDonald commented. Virgil offered a subtle grumph of agreement.
“Perhaps, Holiness, it would be best if we were to change the subject,” Gorman suggested.
“A good idea,” Mendez said.
“Yes,” Caesar nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Mendez, you mentioned that we’ve met. I’m afraid I don’t recall that meeting.”
“I was curious as well,” Virgil said. “Forgive my directness, sir, but… were you among Kolp’s survivors?”
“No, I had no part in that action, nor did I agree with it,” Mendez said. “I wasn’t convinced you meant us harm when our cameras detected you in the Archives, and urged the Governor to let you go peacefully. Kolp attacked anyway. He left me and Alma in charge while he led the assault. He wasn’t thinking rationally. Maybe it was the radiation, or just boredom, but many needlessly died as a result. He’d ordered us to level your village if he didn’t return, but we chose not to. The killing had to stop. On that day, we came to understand God’s plan.”
“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,” Caesar said. “You’re saying we met in the Forb—in your city?”
“No, it was… several years before that.”
“Oh?”
“Holiness,” Gorman cut in, “are you sure this is the best—”
“It’s all right,” Mendez said. “It’s time for the truth.”
“What truth is that?” MacDonald asked.
“There is only one truth,” Virgil noted. “It is perception that varies.”
“Alma and I lived here long ago,” Mendez explained.
“I don’t recall either of you,” Lisa said.
“Neither do I,” Caesar added with a frown.
“You proba
bly wouldn’t, unless you’d spent a lot of time among the laborers. Only the gorillas paid us much mind, and they didn’t usually bother learning our names.”
“You mean…” Caesar said.
“Yes,” Mendez nodded. “We helped you build Ape City.”
“Not by our own choice,” added Alma.
“They were your slaves,” Steven said.
“I see.” Caesar lowered his head, closing his eyes. “I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
“I remember now,” MacDonald said quietly. “I didn’t recognize you.”
During the weeks following the ape rebellion, thermonuclear war devastated the planet, creating unlivable zones in many major cities. As Caesar led his ape followers away from civilization, numerous humans with nowhere else to go joined them, hoping to survive the new world among those innately suited to the wilderness. He allowed them to do so.
However, the death of Malcolm MacDonald, Caesar’s first human liaison, changed things. Kolp had deemed the elder MacDonald brother a traitor, and shot him while leading a failed mission to assassinate Caesar. Soon thereafter, General Aldo urged the ape king to let him conscript the humans as slaves, and though it shamed him to admit it now, Caesar had let the brutal gorilla have his way. His fury at Kolp and Breck had clouded his judgment, and so the humans began their Ape City existence as slaves mistreated by Aldo’s troops. The military then supplemented the labor force by capturing outsiders.
Bruce MacDonald—the brother of the very friend whose death had caused Caesar to make this mistake—had been among the slaves, and remained so for two years before Caesar, guilt-ridden at having allowed gorillas to do to humans what had been done to them, abolished slavery. The humans learned to forgive and even respect Caesar, and MacDonald honored his brother by taking his place as the chimp’s new liaison.
“For two years we toiled and were tortured,” Alma said. “Finally, we escaped to the city. The Governor took us back in, sheltered us, and gave us a new purpose: survival.”
“That’s all in the past now,” Mendez said. “God has given us an even greater purpose. But I wanted you to know the truth, Caesar—and that Alma and I hold no ill will against anyone here.”
Alma said nothing.
“It was a violent time, before God showed us a better way,” Mendez said. “What matters now is that we move forward.”
“I agree. Thank you,” Caesar said gratefully. Lisa squeezed his hand, knowing the shame he still felt for having allowed it to happen.
“There’s… something else you should know,” Mendez continued. “The reason we ended up slaves in the first place.”
“Mendez,” Alma said, her composure dropping. “Oscar, no. We agreed not to do this.”
“Holiness,” Gorman said, “I suggest we discuss this privately.”
“Among allies, secrets have a way of seeking the light of day, and private discussions tend to breed public distrust,” Mendez replied. “I feel it’s best that they know everything.”
“Sir,” Gorman tried again, “this is not… this strikes me as a very—”
“Enough,” Mendez snapped, silencing his aides. He faced the chimpanzee. “Caesar, when Governor Kolp tried to assassinate you… Alma and I were members of his commando unit.”
Caesar’s eyes widened. The gorillas shifted uncomfortably.
“What did you say?” Lisa asked.
“You tried to murder my father…” Brutus said, the throbbing in his head intensifying.
“Something I have long regretted. Understand that I was a soldier, and Kolp was my superior. I followed his orders, even those I disagreed with. Thankfully, we failed in the attempt, but Alma and I were captured while retreating. I didn’t yet know God’s will in those days, but He has since revealed His love to us, alpha and omega, reshaping us in His image. We are no longer the brutalized slaves who resented our masters, nor the desperate, hateful creatures who attacked you. We have peace now, just as you have. It was divine will that led you to us, Brutus, so I could make amends for what I’d done.”
All eyes were on the mutant leader.
“I have already sought God’s absolution, Caesar,” Mendez said. “Now I seek your forgiveness and friendship. Your dream is mine—and, I believe, the Lord’s as well.”
Caesar didn’t entirely understand everything Mendez had said, but the passion and conviction in the man’s words moved him.
Brutus pressed a hand against his throbbing head.
“This is getting strange,” General Athen muttered low enough for only her soldiers to hear. “Be vigilant,” she added.
“I’ll never understand humans or chimpanzees,” Kwai responded in a low growl.
Caesar regarded Mendez with a tilted smile. “Recently, I told a group of children that when we break rules, those rules may need to change,” the chimp told him. “Today, I see there was more truth in that statement than I’d realized at the time. You ignored Kolp’s orders to attack Ape City, and you renounced the violence inherent to your species. You broke the rules—not only of a man, but of men—and we benefited as a result.”
“Just as you, in fighting for ape freedom, changed the rules for all our species.”
“We’ve each been the hunted and the hunters,” Caesar said.
“The enslaved and the slavers,” Mendez agreed. “And now the peace seekers.”
“I think we understand each other, Mendez—and I forgive you.”
“I forgive you as well, Caesar.”
Mendez rose and offered Caesar his hand. As Caesar reached out to take it, Brutus stood abruptly, his face clenched, his arms shaking.
“Brutus?” Lisa asked.
“No,” Brutus said. He backed toward Athen and the guards, panting. “No, no… hurts… stop…”
A guard heard the commotion and poked his head into the tent. “Run and get Tanya,” MacDonald told him. “Hurry!”
The guard obeyed, leaving the flap slightly open as he ran to fetch the doctor. Karne and Tiptonus, who’d been listening from outside, leaned in for a better look.
“No!” Brutus yelled again, diving at the gorillas. Gripping his head with one hand, he made a grab with the other for the pistol in Kwai’s holster. He fired twice at Caesar before the gorilla realized what was happening.
“Caesar!” Lisa pushed him out of the way as soon as she saw the weapon in her son’s hand. One bullet tore through her chest, propelling her into the side of the tent, which ripped from the force of her momentum. Screams emanated from citizens going about their business outside as Caesar’s queen thumped onto the saturated grass, her pooling blood quickly darkening the muddy ground.
Caesar let out a guttural yell, leaping in the direction of his wife as MacDonald and Athen reached for his gun-wielding son. He cradled her frail form, weeping into her hair. She was already dead.
Brutus screamed like a trapped animal and kept firing wildly, the muscles of his chest and arms rigid from strain as he struggled against those holding him. He let go of the weapon once it ran out of ammunition, raging for another moment before falling silent and slack. “Seraphine…” he said, barely a whispered croak, then began seizing. As Athen pinned his twitching body to the ground, rivulets of blood oozed from one nostril and both ears.
At the same time, Alma grabbed a knife from the bread tray and rushed at Mendez, slashing at Gorman and Steven on the way to her target. Gorman managed to sidestep her without injury. He pushed Steven out of the way, but the blade sliced through the man’s arm before ending up embedded in the chest of his father, all the way to the hilt.
Mendez I staggered backwards, tripping over a chair and landing on his side, sputtering up blood that stained his vestments and the tent wall crimson. His guards rushed at Alma, wrestling her to the ground. She thrashed about wildly, but the men were larger and she went down hard, slashing one man’s cheek and mouth open before landing on the knife, which plunged into her neck, killing her instantly.
Tiptonus screamed, and Virgil, who’d been
knocked off his chair during the chaos, saw what had so terrified the young gorilla. “Karne…” he yelled hoarsely.
Virgil sprang to his feet and ran to his grandson. Karne lay unmoving between the open flaps, a single hole in one side of his head. The stray bullet had found its mark and he was dead by the time Virgil, sobbing, pulled the boy to his chest.
Time slowed for Caesar as he held Lisa’s lifeless body. He vaguely registered the additional shots and the screaming from all directions, heard the gorilla child’s shriek and Virgil’s heartbroken cries. He knew something had happened to Mendez, but had no idea what it was, who had done it, or why. He remained numb to everything around him until he saw Brutus lying bloodied. As he reached his son’s side, the shaking stopped and Brutus lay unmoving, his open eyes fixed on some horror only he could see.
“Why?” Caesar demanded, gripping his heir in his arms. No parent should have to endure a child’s death, yet here he was going through it a second time, only moments after losing his wife. “What did you do, Brutus? Our most sacred law… you killed her, Brutus…”
MacDonald tried to offer a consoling hand, but stopped mid-reach, a startled look contorting his face as his knees buckled and he slipped sideways into a chair. “What…?” he said, then noticed the hole in his abdomen and the scarlet stain spreading across his tunic. He had felt no pain during the scuffle with Brutus, but now he felt a fast-growing coldness.
Caesar watched his friend fall, but could find no words.
Tanya entered the tent, stunned at the carnage that had been the site of peace negotiations only moments prior. She saw her husband slumped in a chair near Caesar and ran to him, repeating “Oh my God” and “Bruce,” and she ripped his shirt open and tried to save his life. It was too late. Brutus had taken his third victim from the grave.
Caesar saw the bodies of his friend and family, saw a kneeling Virgil rocking Karne, saw Athen and her gorillas scrambling to maintain order, saw and heard it all from the kaleidoscopic view of someone gazing down an echoing, darkened tunnel.
Then, across the tent, he saw the mutants.