by Alex Irvine
Alexander seemed on the verge of opening up to Ellie, but he never got the chance because Foster jumped out of the second truck and came storming over to Malcolm.
“Hey, man, I just talked to Carver,” he said. “We’re not gonna tell anybody what happened up there?”
“Not yet,” Malcolm said. “Dreyfus has a plan. We need to stick to it. That’s what’s gotten us this far.”
Foster shook his head. Malcolm could already see him lining up with Carver and Kemp, who would want to go right out and slaughter the apes. Malcolm had no problem with eliminating the apes, if they were going to be hostile—but that wasn’t what had happened. If anything, Carver’s itchy trigger finger had set things off. Maybe it was up to the humans to make sure tension didn’t escalate.
“Foster,” Malcolm said. “This isn’t the time to go off half-cocked. We need the dam working. That’s more important than anything else. Right?”
“Right,” Foster said, but it took him longer than Malcolm would have liked. Then he walked off to rejoin Carver and Kemp.
“Is this going to be a problem?” Ellie asked as they watched him go.
“I hope not,” Malcolm said.
“Maybe we should tell Dreyfus,” she said.
“I think he already understands that he needs to keep an eye on Carver,” Malcolm replied.
“Maybe, but you should tell him anyway,” Ellie said.
Malcolm nodded. “I will. But let’s get inside. Whatever happens, it isn’t going to happen today.”
17
From the highest floor of a building, across an open plaza from the human camp, Koba, Grey, and Stone watched the humans until the sun was level with the top of the bridge towers. During that time, Koba saw them recovering fuel for their trucks. He saw them making food, and trading cloth for pieces of machinery. He saw them argue, waving their arms and shouting.
It was remarkable, he thought, how much they looked like apes. Sometimes.
It looked to Koba as if they all lived inside the big building whose bones reached toward the sky. There were… he counted windows. If each was a room, the building could hold more humans than there were apes in their village.
They had machines that used gasoline to make electricity. Apes could make use of those. He saw trucks come and go. Stone followed one of them far enough to come back and tell Koba that it had gone to the boxy building by the bridge. Other humans were there. Stone did not know what they were doing.
It was time to return to Caesar, and tell him what they had seen.
And soon it would be time for war.
* * *
It was evening by the time they reached the village. Caesar and Maurice and Luca the gorilla—along with several other veterans who formed Caesar’s council—stood and sat before the large stone wall inscribed with the laws. Koba joined the group, as was his right. He, too, had fought with Caesar from the beginning. Grey and Stone waited nearby, watching from the main body of apes. As he approached Caesar, Koba saw that they were looking at him.
The bag dropped by the young male human lay open on the ground, its contents scattered in front of the ape leader. Koba recognized some of the things he saw. There were thin books full of pictures, with few words. He could not remember the word for them. Maybe he had never known it. There were pencils in different colors. He had used pencils like that before, long ago, when he still trusted humans. They were used to draw.
The young human had made many pictures in another book. Maurice turned the pages, seeing drawing after drawing. He held the book so that the apes nearby could see the drawings.
Koba moved closer to get a look.
In one of the pictures, houses were burning. Human figures ran from the fire. Other humans with guns chased them. The boy had drawn much blood. In another, buildings fell and humans ran in the street. In another, humans hid behind a wall that had monstrous shapes lurking on the other side. In yet another, rows of dead humans lay in the street in front of a building with a large red plus sign. This made Koba remember when a human had taught him to count.
In another, a dead human woman lay with light shining through a window, and onto her face. Around her stood other humans with masks over their faces.
The watching apes were jumpy, shoving and signing at each other in their nervousness. Koba had to remind himself that many of them had never seen a human… and all of them, including himself, had believed they were gone. The pictures told a story that none of them had heard before.
He saw now that the human survivors had suffered. And he knew that if they all felt the boy’s fear, they would be dangerous.
Maurice was fascinated by the images. He turned through the pages several times. The plague almost ended them, he signed. The boy told the story in pictures.
Koba grunted to get their attention. Both Maurice and Caesar looked to him.
We must attack them now! he signed angrily. Before they attack us!
Maurice set the book down and signed back.
We don’t know how many there are, he said. How many guns they have.
Luca, who spoke rarely, added another question.
Or why they came up here.
Questions, questions, Koba thought. He had answers, but not for all the apes—not yet. Caesar had to hear them first.
He tried to catch Caesar’s eye, to let him know that they needed to talk, and alone. Before he could do so, however, Caesar picked up the book. Something stuck out between two of the pages. Caesar opened the book there and a picture fell out. It showed a woman and a small boy.
Koba guessed the story. The boy who had made the drawings had a picture of his mother. His mother had died of the sickness. On the page marked by the picture was a drawing of the same woman. Koba saw the resemblance between her and the dead woman on another one of the book’s pages. The one who lay in the light.
His mother…
He looked back to Caesar, and saw that Caesar was staring at the drawing. He looked sad, as if the human’s story meant something to him.
Enough of this, Koba thought. Are we going to be sad for humans, who caged us and cut us and killed us? Koba would not. He signed angrily.
Look what they did to Rocket’s son! He turned to Rocket, who squatted at the edge of the council group. Don’t you want to fight?
Now all eyes turned to Rocket, who shifted on his feet, as if he was considering how to reply. Koba saw his anger, and saw him contain it. He raised his hands, paused, and then signed.
I want what Caesar wants. A murmur swept through the assembled apes. Many of them signed their agreement.
No! Koba thought. You have not seen them! Caesar has not seen them. We must act, or they will. But he said none of this. It was not the time to challenge Caesar, and Koba did not want that challenge at all. What he wanted was for Caesar to see the truth. But instead of signing, he clenched his fists, and clamped his mouth shut instead of speaking.
Then Blue Eyes, standing at his father’s side, stood and spoke out loud.
“Koba… right!”
Silence fell in the village. Caesar’s own son, lining up against his father—and standing with Koba? They were stunned. Every ape assembled saw Caesar turn away from the book, saw the anger on his face.
Blue Eyes saw it too, but he did not stop.
Humans tried to kill Ash, he signed. They—
“Enough!” Caesar growled. Again silence fell. For a long moment Blue Eyes held his father’s gaze, stubborn and angry. Then he lowered his head and stopped signing. Koba, amazed at this show of rebellion, took a new view of the young one. He had a strength Koba had not seen before, together with anger toward his father. Koba would not rebel openly, but Blue Eyes had. It would not be the last time, Koba thought… and within him a small flame began to burn.
If Caesar could not control his own son, perhaps he was not fit to control the apes.
Just as quickly as he had the thought, Koba banished it. Apes together strong. He believed those words. Now, of all times,
there could be no arguing. The human problem had to be solved first… and to do that, apes had to act together. Koba would not be the ape who broke them apart.
Caesar turned to look at the faces of his council, gathered around him. He signed carefully, slowly, making sure every ape in the village understood.
If we go to war, we could lose everything we’ve built. Our homes, our families… Our future.
He stood, looked from face to face, and Koba saw fear among the apes. They needed Caesar to lead them, and they would follow where he led. Still, they also needed a decision they could believe in.
I will let you know my decision, Caesar signed, and with that he walked away. Koba watched him go, and watched the other apes watching Caesar. They would not be able to wait for long. But they would have to wait at least a little time. Big decisions could not be made in a hurry. Koba understood this.
He also understood that Caesar did not yet know how great the human threat might be. He, Grey, and Stone had not yet had a chance to tell him. Now was the time, when the report would have the most effect on Caesar’s decision. Koba believed in Caesar… but he also believed in himself. Caesar had not suffered at human hands the way Koba had. He needed Koba with him constantly, to remind him that for every generous human, there were ten cruel ones. Or a hundred. A thousand.
He gave Caesar a moment to get clear of the gathering. Then he followed, slowly, thinking of what to say and the best way to say it.
* * *
Caesar had too much in his head. It was hard enough to think of humans, spreading from the city again, crossing paths with apes and bringing their guns and their science.
He walked alone up the path to the great tree where he and Cornelia made their home. He climbed into the lower branches, then swung himself higher, as if he would think more clearly the closer he got to the stars.
From below he heard his name. He looked down and saw Koba, who bowed and held his head low, peering up from below his brow. Caesar gestured for Koba to join him. He asked for no obeisance, but Koba’s approach was humble, anyway. It was difficult, being leader of apes like Koba. Caesar knew he hated humans, and knew that he would resist any effort to live with them—or even near them. He had good reasons. Humans had taken his eye, and crushed out of him any belief in kindness.
But Koba’s experience was not the only experience. Apes could not be driven by hate and fear. Whatever else the humans had done, they had also given apes the gift of intelligence. They might be enemies, they might be friends, and they might choose to live separately from apes. The world was large.
But those decisions could not yet be made, and while they were being considered, Caesar had to lead. He could not be seen as weak.
Koba settled next to him, high in the tree. They both looked in the direction of the city, now vanished with the fall of night.
Blue Eyes is struggling, Koba signed. It is hard on him to be in your shadow.
It is natural, Caesar signed. He likes you, Koba, because you want to act. He is young and angry, so he also wants to act.
Maybe he is right, Koba signed. Caesar gave him a hard glance, and he added, I do not challenge you, Caesar. But let me tell you what we saw today.
Caesar nodded for him to go on.
We followed the trucks to the city, Koba signed. Other humans met them there. We followed them to see where they would go, and see how many of them there are. He hesitated, and then continued. There was war in the city. Parts of it burned. Many buildings have fallen from the… He did not know the word for what he wanted to say, so he held out both hands and shook them.
Earthquake, Caesar signed.
Koba nodded. Earthquake. But they fought each other. The humans who still live built a wall around their village. Grey and Stone and I watched them, tried to count them.
How many? Caesar asked.
Hundreds.
Caesar considered this. More than us? he signed.
Maybe.
Do they have many guns?
We saw humans with guns, but not that many. They have more trucks. They go through the city looking for things to use. They are… again Koba paused. They are like us. They survive, and they are growing. There were children.
The forest is large and the city is far away, Caesar signed.
Not that far. They found us. They will find us again.
We must discover what they were doing here, Caesar signed.
How? Should we go and ask them, so they can shoot us? Koba started to become angry. Caesar knew what he was thinking—to Koba, thinking often seemed weak. Caesar knew he had to be careful. He and Koba were brothers. They had fought together, they had built this ape village together, they had saved each other’s lives… but Caesar led the apes. He did not want to provoke a challenge, but he also could not tolerate Koba—or, for that matter, Blue Eyes—turning other apes against Caesar’s leadership.
Koba gathered himself and signed again.
For years I was their prisoner. They cut me. Tortured me… Koba looked Caesar in the eye. You freed me. I would do anything you ask.
Caesar nodded. He grasped his friend’s shoulder.
We would not have survived without you, Koba.
But we cannot forget what they are, Koba added. We must show strength.
Caesar considered this. How did they show strength without starting a war they might not survive? The ape village was healthy and growing. In ten years, they had learned where to find food, how to prepare for the winters, how to keep themselves safe from the animals that hunted them, mountain lions and wolves and bears… but they lived on a thin edge. Winters were still times of hunger, especially hard on the orangutans, who needed fruit that did not grow in the winter and had to be dried. They were still learning to grow food themselves, and keeping the orangutans alive meant long trips on horseback down into the warmer valleys, where fruit trees grew wild.
Then he stopped himself. He was becoming distracted. The problem before him—right now—was what to do about the humans. And Koba was partly right. They needed to show the humans strength, but they needed to do it without provoking the humans into a fight.
We will, my friend, Caesar signed. We will show the humans our strength. Here is how.
18
Finney was dreaming. In his dream he was at the movies, watching spaceships dart through a field of asteroids, shooting lasers at each other. Then he was on one of the ships, shouting commands and wisecracks at his crew. Then he was riding his motorcycle up in Napa, a woman’s arms around his waist and big plans for later that night.
Living in California, his dreaming self thought. Can’t beat it. Then he and his girlfriend were at a steakhouse down on the waterfront, spending money they didn’t have and enjoying the recklessness. The steak was perfect, hot all the way through but still a little bloody in the middle. She’d even talked him into drinking wine instead of beer. Then they were riding again, but this time horses, on a ranch up in the wine country, headed for a lodge where they would spend the night with nothing for company but a roaring fire and another bottle of wine.
Horses.
Finney had never ridden a horse in his life. That thought intruded on his dream and he started to drift toward wakefulness, reconnecting with the real world even as he clutched at the beautiful vanished world of his dream.
Clip clop clip clop. The sound of horses’ hooves on pavement stirred him all the way awake. It was dawn. He was at the checkpoint at the south end of the Golden Gate Bridge. He hadn’t had a good steak in ten years, and the girl in his dream was dead, like all his other girlfriends, none of whom had survived the Simian Flu. All of that fell into his awakening consciousness as Finney registered the heavy fog that obscured most of the bridge. The horse sounds were coming from that direction, or that’s what it sounded like. The fog made it hard to tell.
He leaned closer to the window of the guardhouse. Was there something out there?
“Damn,” he said softly as a chimp on horseback rode out of the f
og.
Was he still dreaming? What kind of chimp knew how to ride a horse? Hell, where had the chimp come from? They’d all been killed right at the beginning of the Simian Flu outbreak. He’d seen it on TV, walls of fire scouring the forest where they’d run to hide after breaking out of their lab. Finney hadn’t thought about that in years. He’d been too busy surviving the flu, the gangs, all the other hellish times that had killed just about everyone he knew before Dreyfus got them all together and kept them alive.
He grabbed his gun. Its stock was cold. Now he was all the way awake. He stepped out of the guardhouse and raised the gun. Nobody was supposed to go through the checkpoint without Dreyfus’s okay. Especially not chimpanzees on horses.
Then a second ape appeared.
Then a third.
Then a dozen more, all on horses, and around them God only knew how many walking and jumping.
Finney turned and ran. His motorcycle—not the sweet tricked-out Harley Electra-Glide from his dream, but a battered Honda dirt bike he wouldn’t have given a second look back in the pre-flu world—was just behind the guardhouse. If he could get on it and get it started before the apes knew what he was doing…
As fast as he’d started running, Finney skidded to a halt. There was his bike, all right, but it wasn’t parked. It was in the air, held six feet off the ground by a gorilla. The gorilla threw the bike off the bridge. Almost immediately it was swallowed up by the fog, then there was the splash.
The gorilla dropped back to all fours and growled at him. Finney froze. It could have stomped right into the shack and torn him apart while he was sleeping. But it hadn’t. It had gone right to his bike and gotten rid of it. Finney wasn’t a genius, but neither was he stupid. He put two and two together and came to the inescapable conclusion that the gorilla was trying to stop him from getting away—without killing him.
Right on the heels of that thought came another. If they’d wanted to stop him, the apes didn’t want anyone at the Colony to know they were there. That meant they knew about the Colony. They must have been watching—