Planet of the Apes 04 - Lord of the Apes
Page 16
“I want to see my son,” said Tolar, his voice almost a growl.
“Nobody sees the prisoners,” said the guard. “And no humans are allowed on the streets.”
“He’s my son,” said Tolar. “I want to see him!” He stepped even closer. The other gorilla moved up, confronting Tolar with another rifle. “Don’t do it, Tolar,” said the second gorilla. “You were a great fighter. Go back to your home.”
“Please,” said the man. “All I ask of you—both of you—is a little pity. Pity on a poor human whose son has been condemned to—” By now, he had gained the attention of both apes, who had known and appreciated his superior talents for many years. They listened to him in a way that was generally reserved for their ape friends. Tolar had won a grudging amount of respect, even from these most ungenerous gorillas.
It was while Tolar was speaking that Burke and Galen leaped out from their hiding place. They both attacked the first gorilla, knowing that neither of them could tackle a gorilla one-to-one. Together they dragged the guard to the ground.
The second guard turned toward them with a roar. Tolar struck him on the side of the head, sending the ape to the ground with one blow. He dove for the gorilla even as the ape tried to get to his feet. Tolar clasped his hands together and clubbed the gorilla unconscious. The human got to his feet, not even breathing hard. He looked toward Galen, Burke, and the first gorilla.
The gorilla was struggling with Burke. Galen had rolled away from the conflict. It was clear that Burke was having difficulty at close quarters with the massive gorilla. Tolar jumped in, grabbed the ape, and knocked him out with two punches. Galen quickly bent down and got the key to the cage.
While Galen hurried to the cage, Virdon and Dalton anxiously encouraged him. Galen unlocked the door and the two human prisoners both hurried out.
Dalton rushed to his father’s side. “Father, I—”
“I don’t understand you,” said Tolar, “and I never will. But no one should put you in the cage for that.”
“I don’t think that I could ask more from you than tolerance,” said Dalton. “I don’t expect to have your approval.”
Burke came over to them. “I hate to break up this reconciliation,” he said worriedly, “but we’d better move, and now.”
“What are we going to do?” asked Dalton, who, like Virdon, was in the dark about any plans Burke and Galen might have formulated. Before Burke could answer, a shot rang out; a cloud of dust was kicked up near their feet. The small group looked down the street to see a sergeant of the gorilla garrison with his rifle pointing directly at them. He was preparing to fire again. Once more the crash of the rifle split the air as the four humans and single chimpanzee jumped for cover. The bullet bit into the floor of the cage. The gorilla sergeant ran toward the escaped prisoners.
Burke led the way as they rushed away from the sergeant in the direction of Irnar’s house, by way of the back alley along the huts’ rear sides. Once more the rifle shot was heard, although the gorilla was being left further behind every second.
The gunfire aroused the curiosity of Jason and Irnar, who were arguing in the prefect’s living room. They rushed outside, Jason drawing his pistol as he did. The four humans and Galen suddenly appeared in front of them, dashing across the street toward the astonished apes. “Stop!” cried Jason. “Stop, before I shoot!” Burke raised a hand and the party came to a halt. They hesitated in front of the prefect’s house.
Tolar pushed his way to the front, coming close to Jason. He was intentionally blocking the gorilla’s view of the others. “No! No!” he cried. He turned to look over his shoulder. “Run! Now!” Jason fired. Tolar was hit at close range but he would not be stopped. After hesitating another moment, the others ran off down the street, Jason turned to fire at them, but Tolar, badly wounded, blood covering his chest and abdomen, grabbed him. The human and the ape struggled wordlessly, Jason still holding his pistol.
The gorilla sergeant came running up on his short legs. He raised his rifle, then lowered it. Irnar grabbed the gorilla’s arm and silently shook his head. The sergeant looked up at Irnar, clearly puzzled, unable to understand why the prefect was preventing him from aiding Jason.
Tolar and Jason still battled, grunting and panting from the heavy task of trying to control the weapon. Tolar’s grasp on Jason’s wrist tightened. The pistol fell to the ground with a dull clatter.
“Now, Prefect? Shall I shoot him?” asked the worried sergeant.
“No,” said Irnar.
“But—”
“No,” said the prefect again, coldly.
The villagers were drawn out by the commotion, as well. Disregarding the curfew, they gathered in a mob around the struggling pair in the street.
Tolar scrabbled for the pistol. Jason pushed him aside, sweeping up the pistol as Tolar staggered toward him again. The human wrapped the gorilla in a tight bear hug. The pistol fired, and after a moment Jason slumped in Tolar’s hold. The human moved his arms apart, no longer supporting the gorilla’s dead body. Jason fell into the dust at Tolar’s feet, shot fatally through the chest. Tolar turned, his eyes filled with pain, and looked toward Irnar. The man reached out one hand beseechingly; then he, too, collapsed to the ground, dead.
Irnar stared at the scene impassively for a long moment. He knelt beside Jason’s body and saw that the gorilla was dead. Then he glanced toward Tolar’s bloody corpse, feeling a genuine sense of loss. “Nobly sacrificed, my friend.” he murmured.
The sergeant moved to kneel beside Irnar. He made a quick examination of his own. He was shocked when he looked up at Irnar. “He’s dead,” said the gorilla.
Irnar was calm, secure in his superiority and greater intelligence. He was also pleased that everything about the matter had been tied up, more or less neatly, by this unexpected turn of events. There was the matter of the escaped prisoners, but only Jason and Irnar knew of the importance of Burke, Virdon, and Galen. As for Dalton, he was imprisoned merely for “breaking curfew,” and no humans had actually seen the young man in the cage, “Umm, yes,” said Irnar. “As you saw, he died a hero’s death, fighting a crazed human.”
“But I could have—”
Irnar raised a hand calmly. “Sergeant, your bravery is not in question. I will see that you are properly mentioned in my official report.”
“Thank you,” said the sergeant, confused but willing to be honorably cited.
“We must not let unfortunate incidents like this interfere with our normal routines,” said Irnar. He made a gesture of dismissal to the gorilla, then glanced up. Around them, watching, were the human villagers of Kaymak. There was an audible “ahh” passing through the crowd, a collective sigh. This was the climax they had been denied in the arena. Tolar and Jason were the deaths they had needed to witness.
The next day, Virdon, Burke, Galen, and Dalton were walking along the trail that led to the clearing where the fugitives had first seen the youth and his father wrestling. They moved silently through the late autumn woods until they reached the clearing. Gradually, from the distance, the sound of a galloping horse grew louder. Galen heard it first, but soon the others could make it out as well. Virdon stopped them. “Someone is in a real hurry, riding that fast along a trail this bad. Come on,” he said. They hurried off the path, into the underbrash where they could be out of sight. They hid themselves and waited. After a few moments Dalton grew nervous. The horse’s hooves were coming closer. He made a decision, rose, and started out into the clearing. Virdon tried to grab one of the young man’s arms. Dalton looked at him. “No,” he said quietly. “Please, no.”
Virdon let the young man go. Dalton stepped out into the clearing; the others remained where they were, watching him.
Dalton waited as the sound of the galloping horse was almost upon him. Suddenly, Irnar emerged from the trees, into the clearing. He pulled his horse to a halt when he saw Dalton, who walked up to him.
“What of my father?” he asked.
“He was a b
rave man,” said Irnar simply.
Dalton studied the prefect’s face. “And the games?”
Irnar sighed deeply. “I’m afraid they died with him. Perhaps there is a better way to govern.”
“There must be,” said Dalton.
There was a long moment of silence as they looked at each other. “Tell your friends that I have never met them, and they have never met me,” said Irnar.
“Yes, Prefect.”
Irnar reached into his pocket, extracted something, and handed it to Dalton. “And wish them good luck from me,” he said. He suddenly wheeled his horse around and rode back down the path. Dalton stood watching him go and then glanced down at the object in his hand. Resting in his palm was the magnetic disk on its leather thong.
Later, after some walking through the woods guided by Dalton, the party stopped at a fork in the trail. “You sure you won’t go with us?” asked Burke.
Dalton nodded. “There’s so much for me to think about. So much I still don’t understand,” he said.
“It could be dangerous here for you,” said Virdon.
Dalton paused, thinking hard. “That isn’t important,” he said. “What is . . . important . . . I think . . . is that killing should stop.” He paused again, having difficulty articulating his feelings. “People should know that. Killing should stop. Well, I guess I won’t be seeing you. Good luck.”
“You never know,” said Burke. “We may pop back in on you sometime.”
“I hope so,” said Dalton. He turned and walked off in the direction of his home. Virdon, Burke, and Galen watched him go.
“A beginning, I guess,” said Burke.
“Who can tell?” asked Virdon, smiling. “The world seems to be able to use all it can get.” He pointed off down the right fork, which Dalton said went on almost due south. With an audible sigh from Galen, the three fugitives shouldered their packs more comfortably and continued their march.
Table of Contents
Back Cover
Preview
Books
Titlepage
Copyright
Dedication
THE TYRANT
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
THE GLADIATORS
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT