by Greg Cox
But… only two shell casings?
He reached for the shells, but was startled by a faint sound behind him. Snarling, he snatched the fallen spear from the floor and whirled about to confront whoever dared to invade his home. So intense was his rage, his seething need to avenge his family, that it took him a moment to realize that the noise was coming not from some lurking human assassin but from his own terrified child, who was peeking out fearfully from a shadowy crevice in the rocks. Eyes wide, Cornelius shrunk from the intimidating sight of Caesar brandishing the bloody spear, his fur bristling aggressively.
Cornelius!
Shocked back to his senses, Caesar was stricken by the frightened look on his little son’s face. Lowering the spear, he softened his expression and knelt down before the petrified child. He held out his hand, but Cornelius remained reluctant to emerge from the cleft. Caesar realized that his son had been cowering in the rocks all this time, afraid to show his face amidst all the commotion. He couldn’t blame Cornelius for being scared; the toddler had just seen his mother and brother brutally executed right before his eyes.
And his father wasn’t there to protect him, Caesar thought. To protect any of them.
Forcing a gentle smile to his lips, Caesar beckoned to his only surviving son, but Cornelius’s traumatized eyes stayed fixed on the spear in his father’s hand. Caesar was ashamed to realize that he was still holding onto the weapon. Moving slowly, so as not to alarm Cornelius, he gently placed the spear down onto the floor and held out his arms.
Come to me, son, Caesar thought. Don’t be afraid.
Sobbing, the little chimp crept cautiously out into the open and over to his father. Caesar pulled him into a tight embrace, his heart aching as he felt Cornelius’s small body trembling against his. His throat tightened, so that he couldn’t have spoken even if he’d tried.
Cornelius’s survival seemed like a miracle.
But Caesar would have his revenge, no matter what.
* * *
The armory was kept off-limits to most apes, Caesar having learned a brutal lesson from Koba that not all apes could be trusted with guns. Rows of scavenged weapons, taken from the humans after various skirmishes, lined the grim stone walls of the cavern, along with a generous supply of ammunition. Alone in the armory, Caesar picked up a military assault rifle to inspect it.
Maurice appeared in the chamber’s one and only entrance. Caesar glanced back and saw a troubled look in the orangutan’s gentle brown eyes. He looked away from Maurice, returning his attention to the armory’s store of weapons. He put down the rifle and examined another, but Maurice would not be ignored. He grunted to get Caesar’s attention.
We need to think about what to do next, he signed. The humans know where we are now. They will be back.
Caesar nodded, still hefting the rifle.
“Tell everyone… to prepare for the journey… to our new home.”
Just like Winter had wanted, Caesar recalled, before he betrayed us. The bitter irony was not lost on Caesar. If he had listened to Winter’s terror-stricken plea and ordered an immediate evacuation, would Cornelia and Blue Eyes still be alive? Could they have escaped before the humans attacked?
It’s the wisest decision, Maurice said, visibly relieved. He offered Caesar a sad smile. And what better way to honor your son’s memory.
Caesar appreciated the thought, but he wasn’t ready to wax sentimental, not while his family had yet to be avenged—and the Colonel still lived. He kept on inspecting the guns, searching to find the one in the best condition. He could take no chances when it came to the urgent task ahead.
Maurice lingered in the armory, waiting for Caesar. He shifted his weight, eying Caesar uneasily as the chimpanzee remained preoccupied with picking out a weapon. Maurice grunted softly.
Caesar looked up at him, annoyed at the interruption, even though he knew Maurice was only thinking of the welfare of their people. Male orangutans were solitary creatures by nature, so Maurice had no family to speak of, but he had always been devoted to the ape community.
When should we leave? he asked.
Caesar selected a gun, testing its weight. “I’m not coming with you.”
Dismay appeared upon Maurice’s face. He stared at Caesar in shock, even as he belatedly grasped his friend’s intentions.
You’re not going after them…?
Caesar didn’t see how he had a choice. Gripping the gun, he stared fiercely into space, wishing he had the Colonel in his sights at this very minute.
“Not them. Him.”
* * *
By morning, preparations for the exodus were already underway. The entire population had spilled out of the fortress onto the riverbank as apes of every species hurriedly loaded up a caravan of horses with whatever provisions and possessions they could take with them. It was an ambitious undertaking, but none questioned its necessity; last night’s invasion—and the deaths of Caesar’s wife and heir—had been more than enough to convince the apes that the fortress was no longer safe. Worried eyes kept watching the trees, half-expecting the humans to return in force at any moment. Armed apes stood watch as the assembly made ready to set forth in search of a new home that only a handful of them had ever seen. Of the four apes who knew the way to their destination, only three were still alive.
Heads turned as Caesar made his way through the teeming crowd, holding onto Cornelius’s small hand. Busy apes paused in their hasty labors to cast pitying looks at their grieving leader, mourning the tragedies that had befallen him. Hushed whispers and somber gazes followed Caesar, who kept his gaze fixed directly ahead of him, ignoring the sympathy and condolences offered him by his people. There would be time enough for mourning later, perhaps. For now, his mind was set on one task and one task alone.
Once he made sure his only living child was safe.
He found his inner circle waiting for him further down the river, away from the falls. Maurice, Luca, and Rocket were gathered along the shore, sadly watching him approach with little Cornelius. Lake in particular gazed down at the child, who was understandably apprehensive and subdued, and tried to give Cornelius a reassuring smile. She looked up at Caesar.
“You loved my son,” he said to her. “Look after his brother… until I return.”
His voice was gruff, his expression stoic. Only his eyes betrayed how hard this was for him—and the anguish he carried.
Lake’s own eyes welled with tears. She nodded gravely and signed.
You have my word.
That was good enough for Caesar, but Maurice waddled forward. It seemed that he was still not entirely reconciled to what was happening. He shook his great head from side to side, regarding Caesar with a dubious expression.
And if you don’t return? he asked.
Caesar paused only a moment before answering. “Then please make sure he knows who his father was.”
Lake crouched before Cornelius and held out her hand, smiling warmly, but the toddler only tightened his grip on Caesar’s hand. He peered anxiously up at Caesar, as though fearful of losing his father as well. The thought of abandoning his child at this juncture broke what was left of Caesar’s heart, but his resolve to revenge himself upon the Colonel remained undimmed. He guided Cornelius toward Lake, even as Maurice still attempted to turn him from his course.
Caesar, your son needs you, the orangutan signed. We need you. We trust you to lead us.
There was wisdom in Maurice’s words, Caesar knew, but his friend failed to realize just how furiously the rage within him burned. There was nothing left inside him except the need for vengeance. He could be no father to his son, no leader to his people, as long as thoughts of revenge consumed his every waking moment. He looked down at Cornelius, remembering how close he had come to spearing his own son only hours ago. The fear on the toddler’s face as he’d stared in horror at his father’s wrath was seared into Caesar’s memory.
“I no longer trust myself,” he confessed.
A crestfallen
look came over Maurice’s face and he fell silent, apparently at a loss as to how to respond. The melancholy interlude was interrupted by the arrival of Spear, flanked by two chimpanzee lieutenants. Caesar had summoned Spear for a reason, impressed by how the valiant ape had handled himself during yesterday’s raid on the wall. Spear’s bravery and quick thinking had saved many lives.
“Apes… are in your care now,” Caesar said.
He had asked Luca to lead their people in his place, but the gorilla had declined, perhaps still blaming himself for Winter’s apparent treachery. Rocket had not wanted the position either, for reasons Caesar didn’t entirely understand. Perhaps he didn’t fully trust himself as well? They had all suffered much in recent years. Rocket had lost his own son, Ash, to Koba’s madness only a few years ago. No doubt Blue Eyes’ death had hit Rocket hard as well. Ash and Blue Eyes had been best friends, growing up together, and now both of them were gone.
Let Spear take charge then, Caesar thought. A new leader to take our people to a new home.
Spear accepted the responsibility without protest. He nodded solemnly.
How long until you rejoin us? he asked.
“I don’t know.” Caesar mustered a smile he didn’t feel. “Very soon, I hope. Be careful.”
Spear knelt and held out an open palm in supplication. Caesar gave the young ape his blessing, while privately wondering if he would ever personally look upon the supposed haven Blue Eyes had found. In truth, Caesar had no way of knowing if he would survive the mission before him. It might well be that killing the Colonel would cost him his own life.
He would consider that a fair exchange.
Spear rose and set off to carry out Caesar’s decree. Within hours, before the morning sun had even reached its zenith, the caravan was ready to depart. Spear rode ahead and barked out commands to the assemblage. Apes mounted horses, assisting the young and the elderly as needed, and fell into line with Spear and the vanguard of the procession, which consisted of hundreds of apes, their steeds, and their supplies. Caesar took a moment to survey the impressive sight of his people on the move, and wished them well in their travels, before turning his back on the caravan and walking off in the opposite direction. His solitary figure moved against the flow of the crowd until he reached his own horse and climbed onto it. His heels dug into the horse’s side, urging it on.
He left his friends—and his son—behind him on the shore. He could feel their eyes upon him as he rode away.
But he did not turn back.
7
Caesar rode alone through the forest, a rifle slung across his back. For a time, he could still hear the massive exodus setting off back at the falls, but the noise gradually subsided as he headed down an old man-made road through the woods. Foliage encroached on the cracked and pitted asphalt, which was still divided by a painted yellow strip. An abandoned truck sporting the faded logo of a forgotten soft-drink company rusted nearby. It seemed as though Caesar had the forest to himself until a sudden rustling behind him sent him on his guard. Turning his horse around, he peered warily at the shadowy woods, ready to flee or defend himself if necessary. He cradled the rifle in his arms and released the safety. He and his people had been caught by surprise before.
Never again, he vowed.
The steady clip-clopping of hooves reached his ears, preceding the arrival of three apes riding out of the trees. Maurice, Rocket, and Luca trotted toward him on horseback, openly defying his decision to embark on this quest alone. The riders came to a halt only a few yards in front of him, braving Caesar’s scowl and smoldering glare. He was not happy to see them.
This was his risk to take, not theirs.
The human base camp is always moving, Luca signed. But my scouts think they know where it is. Let me take you.
Rocket held up a rifle of his own. You’ll need me to back you up.
Caesar was unmoved by their arguments.
“No,” he said firmly.
Please, Rocket signed. I know what it’s like to lose a son.
His heartfelt plea gave Caesar pause. Ash had died at Koba’s hands, hurled from a great height when the young chimp had refused a command to execute defenseless humans. Caesar had not personally witnessed Ash’s murder, but Blue Eyes had… and Caesar had seen how much the loss of Ash had pained Rocket, who had never had the opportunity to avenge his son because Caesar had killed Koba instead.
I killed Ash’s killer, Caesar reflected. Can I now deny Rocket a chance to help me avenge my own son? And Luca an opportunity to make right what Winter may have done?
That hardly seemed fair.
I might not make it back, he signed.
That’s why I’m coming, Maurice insisted. To make sure you do.
Caesar realized that his friends would not be dissuaded any more than he would in their place. Bowing to the inevitable, while hoping that he was not leading them to their deaths, he nodded and turned his horse back the way he’d been going before. The other apes fell in behind him.
It’s the four of us then, Caesar thought, against the Colonel and his soldiers. But I’ll take four apes against any number of humans…
The hunting party rode in silence for a time, not wasting breath on conversation, as they gradually made their way north along the coast until they came within sight of a small bay directly ahead. A cold wind blew off the water, salting the air. Gulls squawked in the distance. Caesar briefly halted and pointed to a thin black tendril of smoke rising up through the gray overcast sky many miles ahead. The apes slowed and exchanged quizzical looks.
The humans’ camp?
Luca frowned, clearly troubled at the prospect of what they might find there. Such as, perhaps, a turncoat white gorilla?
We shall see, Caesar thought.
They rode toward the distant smoke, heading further down toward the shore, and gradually came upon what appeared to be an abandoned oyster farm on and about the bluffs overlooking the mud flats at the edge of the water. Dilapidated shacks, docks, and boathouses had lost most of their peeling paint to the elements, and were overgrown with seaside shrubs and grasses. An overturned barge lay half-buried on the beach, its rotting keel encrusted with barnacles. Derelict cars and trucks, along with pieces of rusty machinery, were being steadily reclaimed by nature. At least one building had apparently caught fire at some point, whether intentionally or by accident it was impossible to tell. A wooden sign, welcoming visitors, dangled on a chain beneath a weathered wooden gateway at the entrance to the oyster farm. Caesar assumed that the place had been sitting empty ever since the virus wiped out most of humanity over a decade ago.
The one exception, and the only sign of life, was in a rundown shack that appeared to be slightly better maintained than the surrounding ruins. Smoke billowed from its chimney. Caesar sniffed the air, but the smoky aroma overpowered any other odors. There was no way to tell how many humans might be in the vicinity.
Peering out at the moribund farm through a stand of cypresses, the apes tethered their horses and crept toward the shack on foot, their rifles at the ready. They moved cautiously along the dirt road leading through the farm, uncertain as to what exactly they had stumbled onto. Broken oyster shells littered the ground, making stealth difficult, as the apes had to step carefully to avoid slicing their feet.
Could this be the soldiers’ base camp? Caesar found it unlikely that the Colonel and his troops could all be crowded into a single shack, but decided that the site required further investigation, just in case it was being used as a temporary refuge by the strike force that had invaded the fortress. He looked about warily, but detected no guards posted along the perimeter of the campsite.
Caesar doubted the Colonel would be so careless…
A lone human emerged from around the corner of a collapsed boathouse, bearing an armload of driftwood. Dirty and unshaven, his tattered clothing just as grimy as the rest of him, he didn’t have the look or bearing of a soldier; more likely he was just a random, ragged survivor who had somehow man
aged to outlive the bulk of humanity. Beneath the whiskers and grime, he appeared to be in his forties, old enough to remember when his kind had still dominated the planet. Those were often the angriest humans, Caesar had learned, and the most dangerous.
Spotting the apes, he froze in his tracks, while they stared back at him in silence. Rocket glanced at Caesar, awaiting his cue, but Caesar simply watched the human carefully, curious to see what the man would do next. Unlike some apes, Caesar did not assume that all humans were enemies. He had known a few decent ones in his time.
Like Will… and Malcolm… and Ellie…
“I’m just gonna put this down,” the man said, indicating the load of firewood in his arms. Very slowly, he began to lower his burden.
Caesar permitted this.
The man abruptly dropped the wood, whipped around the hunting rifle Caesar now saw was strapped to his shoulder, and fired wildly at the apes. The sharp report of the gunshot violated the sepulchral atmosphere of the farm. Maurice started as the bullet whizzed past him, missing his head by inches.
A second shot rang out—and the man fell backward onto the ground.
Caesar clutched his own smoking rifle as the other apes turned toward him in shock, stunned by how rapidly Caesar had dispatched the human. Caesar’s own face was impassive, betraying neither anger nor remorse. He had killed before, but never this dispassionately. Caesar realized that the slaughter of his family had broken something inside him, and it might well be that he would never be truly whole again. The Colonel was not the only one without mercy anymore.
I gave the human one chance to prove he was not a killer, Caesar thought grimly. But only one.
Lowering his weapon, he walked past his friends without a word toward the lifeless body of the human he had just killed. The others joined him as he stooped to examine the corpse.
Upon closer inspection, the man’s ragged clothing was only barely recognizable as military fatigues. Caesar’s eyes narrowed as he saw AΩ crudely tattooed on the man’s right forearm.