by Greg Cox
An old, deserted military camp on the border?
Luca picked up the thread. Maybe this is where the Colonel and the troops from the north are going to meet?
Caesar thought it worth investigating.
“Is it far?” he asked Bad Ape. “Can you take us?”
“Human zoo?” The chimp reacted with alarm to the very idea. “No… no go back there. Everyone dead.” He shook his head emphatically. “I come here. Safe here. Never go back!”
Caesar sympathized with the ape’s distress, but needed Bad Ape’s help if they were going to catch up with the Colonel. He placed his hand on the other chimp’s shoulder.
“Please. You must take us.”
“No! Can not take! Can not take!”
Scared, he shoved Caesar’s hand away too aggressively to suit Rocket, who lunged at him in anger, roughly grabbing hold of him, but Caesar moved to restrain Rocket before the loyal ape dealt too harshly with Bad Ape, whom they could not afford to agitate further. He shook his head at Rocket, urging patience.
We need to win his trust, Caesar thought. Not treat him like an enemy.
“Look!” Bad Ape pointed frantically at a small window along the nearest wall. His voice quavered as Rocket continued to hold onto him. “More snow! Can not go, must stay here!” He kept pointing insistently. “Look, look!”
Glancing at a larger window by the front entrance, Caesar saw that the scared chimp spoke the truth. It was indeed snowing heavily outside.
He nodded at Rocket, who grudgingly released Bad Ape, eliciting a sigh of relief from the other chimpanzee, who acted as though he had just received a stay of execution. He grinned happily at the falling snow, which he seemed to think had come to his rescue.
“You stay here. Eat. Rest.” He beamed at the other apes, the first he had seen since the early days of the plague. “With me.”
Caesar stared grimly at the snow, which gave no evidence of letting up anytime soon. Bad Ape was right to a degree; they could not set off for the camp on the border for the time being. There was nothing to do but wait, and enjoy the meager comforts of the lodge and the fire.
Relaxing, Bad Ape noticed that the girl was still eying the silver Nova emblem. He sighed, as though surrendering to the inevitable, and handed it to her.
“Here. You keep.”
Eyes bright, the girl eagerly took possession of the trinket. Bad Ape looked at Caesar and the other apes, obviously hoping that his generosity had won their approval. Caesar couldn’t help sympathizing with the lonely ape, who had lived in solitude for so long. Twelve years was a long time to go without seeing another of your own kind. Caesar could only imagine what it must mean to Bad Ape to spend time with other apes again.
Now if they only could persuade him to lead them to the border…
13
Caesar couldn’t sleep.
The fire in the hearth had died down to a few fading embers, while swirling snow still invaded the lobby through the gap in the ceiling. As nearly as Caesar could tell, the others were all fast asleep, exhausted by the day’s exertions, but his own restless mind refused to shut down. Second guesses tortured him as he imagined countless choices or scenarios that might have saved his family from the Colonel, who was getting further and further away even as Caesar tossed and turned, snowbound within the melancholy ice palace. Abandoning any hope of sleep for the moment, he sighed and sat up quietly.
His envious gaze fell upon the human girl, who was curled up peacefully against Maurice’s belly, hugging her doll. The shiny car emblem—her gift from Bad Ape—remained clutched between her tiny fingers. Maurice’s arm shielded the girl, as though she was his own child.
An ape child.
A pang jabbed Caesar’s heart. His eyes grew moist. He remembered sleeping with Cornelius that way… and Blue Eyes…
“Who is… child?” a soft voice asked.
Startled, Caesar turned to see that Bad Ape was awake as well. He cast a questioning look at the girl.
“I don’t know,” Caesar admitted.
“But… she with you?” Bad Ape asked, understandably confused.
I suppose she is, Caesar thought, nodding. “She has no one else.”
Bad Ape gazed at the girl in pity. “I see you look at her… just now.” He turned toward Caesar. “Look sad.”
Caesar did not know how to respond. His pain ran too deep to face, let alone speak of to a stranger. He held on to it in silence.
Bad Ape studied him, mulling things over before venturing a guess.
“You… have child?”
He smiled sweetly at Caesar, blithely unaware that he was treading on dangerous ground, until Caesar shot him a withering look. Bad Ape’s face fell and he clapped his hands over his mouth. Looking away from the chastened ape, Caesar felt a twinge of guilt; Bad Ape had not known of the fresh wounds his innocent query had reopened. Sighing, Caesar broke his silence.
“He was killed,” he said gruffly. “By humans.”
Understanding—and sympathy—dawned on Bad Ape’s face.
“Oh… soldier?”
Caesar nodded, staring at the dying fire. His throat tightened, making speech even more difficult than usual. A pensive look came over Bad Ape’s usually comical countenance as he processed what Caesar had told him.
“I had child,” Bad Ape confessed.
Caesar turned to him in surprise. He did not need to ask what had become of the child; the solitary chimpanzee had already revealed the fate of his fellow apes years ago. Humans had killed them.
Old memories, long buried, haunted the other ape’s eyes. He looked at Caesar.
“You think… you will find him… at human zoo? Soldier?”
Caesar peered grimly at the fading embers in the fireplace.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Bad Ape thought this over.
“Then… maybe I take you.”
* * *
Along with Rocket, Luca guided the four horses toward the front porch of the ski lodge. The sun had risen and the snow had finally abated, so Caesar was anxious to get off to an early start. Luca was not entirely sure what had prompted Bad Ape’s change of heart, but he wasn’t going to—what was the human expression again—look a horse’s gift in the mouth? Mounted upon his own horse, the gorilla hoped they were doing the right thing chasing after the Colonel. He understood why Caesar was hunting the Colonel, and he blamed himself for not seeing the danger posed by Winter’s cowardice, but he worried about the apes they had left behind. Would Spear be able to lead them to safety on his own? Without Caesar to guide them?
Caesar needs revenge, he thought, but our people need Caesar.
He saw the girl standing alone on the front porch, hugging herself against the cold despite the oversized parka Bad Ape had generously given her. Icicles hung from the eaves of the porch roof, which sagged beneath the accumulated snow piled on it. She was staring up at the bright pink flowers of a dogwood tree poking up through the snow. The rosy blossoms provided the only trace of color in the stark white landscape, so it was perhaps no surprise that the girl was captivated by the flowers, which were out of reach of her small arms.
But they were not beyond Luca’s reach. The gorilla rode forward and plucked a small branch off the tree. Bending down toward the girl, who was practically level with the mounted gorilla as she stood on the porch, he gently slipped the flowers behind her ear, and was rewarded with an incandescent smile. He gazed down on the child kindly, until he heard the front door opening.
The silverback hastily straightened and assumed a more imposing posture as Caesar and Maurice exited the lodge. Slightly embarrassed by his moment of sentiment, he hoped that Caesar had not seen him toying with flowers. Theirs was a serious mission after all, dealing with matters of life and death and justice. It would not do for him to look weak or softhearted.
Maurice crouched next to the girl, and she hopped onto his back exactly as an ape child would. Satisfied that she was secure, the orangutan left the porc
h and climbed onto his horse. Caesar mounted his steed as well, ready to resume their quest, assuming their new guide had not changed his mind again. Luca wondered briefly if the sad, silly little chimp had given them the slip, but then the lodge’s door swung open once more, and Bad Ape hurried out to join them.
The strange little chimp had dressed for the trip, in a manner of speaking. Ill-fitting snow boots covered his feet, a moth-eaten blanket was draped over his scrawny frame, while a striped wool cap rested on his balding pate.
Luca resisted the urge to laugh while his companions stared blankly at Bad Ape, who was clearly unaware of how ridiculous he appeared, as he looked speculatively from horse to horse, wondering who he was to partner with.
Thinking quickly, Luca grunted and pointed at Rocket’s horse. Grinning, Bad Ape made for the horse before the other chimpanzee could protest. Rocket shot Luca a dirty look, appearing utterly crestfallen, as Bad Ape clumsily struggled to climb up behind him. Luca chuckled under his breath.
That had been a close call!
* * *
Freshly fallen snow crunched beneath the horses’ hooves as the party made their way through the wintry woods, leaving the derelict ski lodge behind. Maurice glanced down at the girl, who was tucked in front of him atop their horse, and saw that she was staring at Caesar, who was riding beside them, sipping from a drinking gourd. She licked her lips.
Ever a teacher, the orangutan saw an opportunity to try teaching her sign language. Grunting softly to get her attention, he pointed at Caesar, then made the appropriate sign by sliding a finger along his neck:
Thirsty.
He repeated the gesture.
Thirsty.
The girl stared at him blankly, but Maurice did not give up. Experience had taught him that some children needed more instruction than others. Taking her small hand in his, he demonstrated how to sign the word, while noting that Caesar was looking on with interest. The apes’ brooding leader appeared intrigued despite his recent sorrows.
Maurice shaped the girl’s fingers to form the sign again, but, to his disappointment, she showed no interest in the lesson. Instead she looked over at Caesar, who met her curious gaze. His expression softened somewhat, for perhaps the first time since the tragedy back at the fortress.
Concerned about his friend’s state of mind, Maurice chose to take this as a good omen, even as he worried about the girl’s seeming inability to communicate. Granted, he had never tried to teach a human sign language before, but, coupled with her apparent muteness, he had to wonder if there was something truly wrong with her…
14
Sunlight spilled through the trees marking the end of the woods. The apes had been traveling for hours through the dense, snowbound wilderness, having left anything resembling a trail early on. Bad Ape fidgeted restlessly on Rocket’s horse, growing visibly more anxious by the moment, which told Caesar that they must be nearing their destination. It was late afternoon, but, with any luck, they would arrive at his human zoo before nightfall.
“There,” Bad Ape said fearfully, pointing toward the light.
Caesar raised a hand to call a halt. According to Bad Ape, the camp was now just a graveyard, but Caesar suspected that might no longer be the case. He both hoped and worried that they were closing in on the Colonel and his troops, which meant that they had to proceed cautiously. Leaving their horses behind, the apes crept to the very edge of the forest, where they took cover behind the last few trees. Squinting into the sinking sun, Caesar got his first look at what he hoped would be the final station on this pilgrimage of revenge.
An enormous canyon lay before them. Steep, snow-covered cliffs descended in rocky shelves toward the vast unseen expanse at the bottom of the gorge. The peak of a prison-style warden’s tower rose from the depths, confirming that they had indeed reached the human zoo Bad Ape so dreaded. A faded California state flag, bearing a portrait of a grizzly bear, hung from a pole sticking out the tower; Caesar winced, recalling the claw marks that had scarred Blue Eyes’ chest. The rest of the camp remained out of sight.
Caesar held out his hand and Luca gave him the binoculars, allowing Caesar to look more closely at the watchtower. The intimidating cement-and-steel structure had seen better days; corrosion pitted and stained its walls, causing the light to glint off it. Cracked glass windows offered a glimpse into the interior of the tower, which appeared to be deserted at the moment, much to Caesar’s disappointment. He had hoped to spot the Colonel in his lair.
He started to lower the glasses, then noticed something peculiar about the ragged flag. Using the binoculars, he realized that the flap was hanging upside-down—and that AΩ was painted in black across it.
I was right, he thought. This is it. The camp by the border.
Where I’ll find the Colonel.
A hint of movement, further down the side of the canyon, caught his eye. Shifting the glasses, he spied small silhouetted figures far below, barely visible along the edge of the lowest granite ledge he could see from this vantage point. Even with the binoculars, he could barely make them out. He assumed they were human, but they could also have been apes for all he could tell.
Soldiers? Sentries?
Lowering the binoculars, he signed to his lieutenants: Luca, let’s take a closer look.
He nodded at Rocket, then looked back at the others. Stay here. Keep them safe.
He and the gorilla furtively exited the safety of the woods. Keeping low, they slowly made their way down the slope toward the jutting granite shelf where the figures had been seen. Their cautious pace, and the thick snow, meant that it was sunset by the time Caesar managed to get a better view through the binoculars while lying in the snow, peering out over the top of a frosted ridge at the snow-covered shelf jutting out hundreds of feet below. The dimming light was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, it helped conceal the skulking apes; on the other, it made it harder for Caesar to discern what he was seeing.
The figures on the ledge were erecting a row of tall, X-shaped wooden structures along the edge of the cliff. Caesar counted roughly a dozen crosses, but could not figure out what purpose they served.
Perhaps some kind of perimeter defense?
Or scarecrows?
He put down the binoculars, confused. Lying beside him on the ridge, Luca signed in curiosity.
What are they doing?
Caesar shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Resorting to the binoculars once more, he attempted to make sense of the baffling activity. Luca grunted urgently, in a way that demanded Caesar’s attention. He looked over at the gorilla, who pointed down past the crest of the ridge.
What’s that? Luca signed. A patrol?
Caesar turned the binoculars toward a smaller, higher ledge just below the ridge, where a pair of horses were tethered. Caesar’s pulse sped up at the sight and at its ominous implications.
Don’t see any riders, he began.
A blurry shape suddenly rose into view, charging up the other side of the ridge from the ledge just beneath it. Caesar dropped the glasses to discover a human soldier looming above him, his raised rifle pointed directly at the vulnerable ape, who realized that he was only a heartbeat away from joining his murdered wife and son. The soldier pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Click.
The gun jammed, shocking Caesar and the soldier both. The human’s expression went from anger to fear in an instant as he reared backwards and attempted to lunge at Caesar with his rifle’s bayonet. The chimpanzee expected to be skewered upon the point of the weapon, but—
Luca dived in front of Caesar, shielding his leader, and the blade plunged into the gorilla’s gut, even as he grabbed the human with both hands and yanked him to the ground, where he fell upon the man and wrestled with him as they rolled across the frozen ridge. Massive fists pummeled the human with bone-breaking force, until the gorilla collapsed on top of the human, pinning him to the snow, not far from where the bloody bayonet had landed, staining the snow re
d. Both human and ape lay still, no longer fighting.
Luca!
Scrambling to his feet, Caesar rushed toward his friend, hoping there was still time to save him, but another soldier appeared from further along the ridge and took aim at Caesar, who found himself on the wrong end of a rifle barrel for the second time in as many minutes.
It seemed Luca’s sacrifice had been in vain.
A loud whack, instead of a bang, came from the soldier, who crumpled onto the ice and snow, revealing Rocket right behind him. The other chimp gripped the rifle he had just clubbed the human with, saving Caesar’s life. The butt of the rifle waited above the head of the downed soldier, just in case he tried to get up again.
He didn’t.
Rocket panted, out of breath from rushing to the rescue. He signed apologetically at Caesar, as though embarrassed to have disobeyed his leader’s orders to stay with the others.
I saw them from up there. He gestured at the top of the canyon. Coming for you…
Caesar was grateful for his friend’s timely appearance, but what about Luca? Taking only a moment to verify that there were no more soldiers assailing them, the apes hurried to check on the wounded gorilla. Luca rolled painfully off the battered remains of the human soldier, who had clearly not survived the ape’s ferocious attack.
Gasping, Luca clutched his punctured gut. Blood seeped past his fingers.
Too much blood.
* * *
Sheltered in the woods, Maurice waited with Bad Ape and the girl. His worried eyes searched the twilight for their absent friends, concerned for their safety. Dusk had deepened the shadows under the trees since Rocket had rushed to aid Caesar and Luca after spotting a human patrol heading their way. Maurice had not heard any gunshots, which was encouraging, but it was also possible that the other apes had been taken prisoner at gunpoint by now.
And that more soldiers would be coming for the rest of them.
The girl clung to Maurice’s shaggy back, peering over his shoulder. He was just starting to wonder how long they should wait before investigating when Rocket returned, climbing the hillside toward them with a grim expression on his face. He carried a rifle equipped with a lethal-looking bayonet that Maurice did not recall seeing before.