Planet of the Apes Omnibus 3

by Titan Books

  The sick were being placed on cots arranged in rows inside the large hut. Burke directed this operation; Amy and Galen bathed the sick with well water that was carried in for their use. These tasks ceased at the sound of hoof-beats; Burke looked out of the hut window and then went outside.

  Virdon heard the sound, too, and looked up, shielding his eyes with one hand. He waited for Burke to join him from the hut. Zoran rode into the village and dismounted. The Medical Officer walked about the village, examining the activities that the astronauts had organized. They picked up a pair of gloves and a mask that the women were making. “What are they doing?” he asked.

  “Protective masks and gloves,” said Burke. “We’ve got to send a work crew to drain off the stagnant water.”

  Zoran considered Burke’s words. Now he did not attack their suggestions: his personal situation was so desperate that he had to accept whatever help was available, no matter how unorthodox it seemed. He had committed himself this far; the only reasonable thing was to see the thing through to the end, whatever that might prove to be. “I am in a most difficult position with the council,” he said. “I have related your… mosquito theory.” Zoran paused, studying the faces of the men. He took a deep breath. “Of course, in order to save you from punishment—should we fail—I told them it was my own…”

  Virdon and Burke exchanged wondering looks. This benevolent attitude they rarely encountered among the apes. Usually, the masters were all too willing to let the blame for failures fall upon the “inferior” human beings. “You’re very generous,” said Virdon.

  Zoran looked at the humans curiously. He wondered if they were,, after all, just as simple as the other humans of Trion. Surely, they ought to be able to understand how he, personally, was involved with the situation now, and how he had to come up with a solution to save his own career and, possibly, his own life. He sneered; any of the other human beings would see that. He wondered how Virdon and Burke could overlook it. If they were that unsophisticated, how could he put any faith in their medical advice? “I’m not entirely generous,” he said, baiting them. “If I told the council that I heard it from two humans, they would have asked questions: who you were, how you came by this information. Urko, particularly, would have been more than curious about humans who know more than they should. I hope, for all our sakes, that you do know about this disease.”

  The mention of Urko’s name drew concerned looks from Virdon and Burke. There was no one in the world that more wanted to see the astronauts dead than General Urko: the gorilla feared that the humans might bring knowledge to their oppressed people. But worse, in Urko’s eyes, was the possibility of the astronauts’ leading a slave revolt against the ape masters. Zoran caught the exchange of silent glances and misinterpreted it. “Have we been wrong up to now?” asked Burke.

  This only made Zoran grow more suspicious; the humans seemed to be unusually defensive. While Zoran considered the matter, Galen came out of hut to see if his friends had gotten themselves into trouble again.

  Zoran hit a fist into the gloved palm of his other hand. “You’ve provided a theory,” he said to Burke. “A name for the disease, a diagnosis. Right or wrong, it adds up to very little. What about treatment?”

  Burke shrugged. He was wondering how long it would take the Medical Officer to think of that.

  “There’s one known treatment for malaria,” said Virdon. “Quinine. It’s extracted from the bark of a semitropical tree called the cinchona.”

  Zoran looked suddenly very weary. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “I’ve never even heard of such a tree,” he said. It was obvious that he thought the humans really didn’t know what they were talking about.

  “Just beyond the marsh there’s a heavily wooded area,” said Burke. “It’s fairly tropical growth. If we’re lucky, you’ll get to see one.”

  Virdon walked to the shaded area of one of the huts, where women and children had finished a number of protective garments. He picked out a pair of gloves and a headpiece for himself, tried them on. then nodded his approval. He picked up another set and offered it to Zoran. The chimpanzee nodded and accepted the articles. Virdon, Burke, and Galen smiled to themselves.

  Properly attired, the two men and two apes started off toward the marshy area. They took along several men, who also wore the gloves and headpieces. The sun was very hot, and inside the masks, the party grew more uncomfortable. Still, they all understood the importance of not removing the headpieces.

  The stagnant pools surprised Zoran with their size. He bent down and studied the water, a little fearfully. He saw the small, tadpole-like larvae of the mosquitoes, swimming around in great numbers. Great numbers of the adult mosquitoes settled on the protected areas of the party’s bodies. “Are you sure we’re adequately guarded?” asked Zoran.

  “If they can’t bite you, they can’t hurt you,” said Burke.

  Virdon turned to the work party that had come with them, some carrying crudely made shovels and other digging tools. “Remember,” he said, “no part of your body can be exposed.” The blond man turned to Galen, who was to supervise the draining operation. “Good luck, my friend,” said Virdon.

  Galen nodded and began organizing his crew. Burke, Virdon, and Zoran moved away, followed by half of the men.

  After a few minutes of walking, the group approached the edge of the heavily wooded area. “Listen,” asked Zoran, “do we still have to wear these things? We’ve come a good distance from the danger region.”

  “I think we’ll be all right,” said Virdon. They pulled off the headpieces in order to see better and be more comfortable. The sound of hoofbeats announced the arrival of an unwelcome, interruption.

  Virdon, Burke, and Zoran turned to see who was coming. The sight was unpleasant for all three, although it meant much more to the astronauts than to the chimpanzee. It was Urko and several of his armed soldiers riding toward them. The gorillas shouted as they rode, making an awesome spectacle of military might. Zoran found it distasteful; Virdon and Burke found it potentially fatal.

  “Uh oh,” whispered Burke.

  Virdon thought hastily. He pulled the headpiece back over his face, to hide his identity from Urko. Burke followed his friend’s lead. Together they waited, anxious and concerned, not only for their own safety, but also for what their recapture would mean to the people of Trion.

  Urko and his gorilla guards pulled their horses to a halt a few yards from the small party. The gorillas laughed and insulted the humans, pointing at the bulky protective gear and making foolish comments. Urko quieted them by raising one hand. He walked his horse in front of Zoran, blocking the path of the party.

  Urko leaned over in his saddle and spoke menacingly.

  “What’s wrong? Running away from the village, doctor?” he asked.

  Zoran suddenly realized that it looked to Urko as if the Medical Officer were trying to escape, to flee for his own life. If Urko could convince the Supreme Council of that, everything would have been for nothing, and Zoran’s life might end in disgrace. “The cure is in the bark of a certain tree,” he said. “We believe such a tree can be found in those woods.”

  Urko laughed; it seemed that Zoran was doing everything he could to back himself into a corner. “We believe?” asked Urko cheerfully. “What do you mean, we? I was under the impression that you had sole authority here.”

  Zoran realized that he had set a trap for himself. But he had not risen to his high position within the council without learning the same kind of verbal agility that Urko was using. His voice was steady when he replied. “I have sole authority. But I have described the tree and we,” Zoran turned indicating Virdon, Burke, and the others, “they believe such a tree might be found in there.” Zoran nodded to the nearby wooded area.

  Urko grunted. He prodded his horse even closer to the group of humans. He noticed that the workmen had removed their headpieces, but that Virdon and Burke still wore theirs. Urko, more intelligent than the usual gorilla, turned this idea
over in his mind. “What are you two afraid of?” he asked.

  Burke answered, trying to disguise his voice from Urko. From within the headpiece, the sound of Burke’s voice was further muffled. “Mosquitoes,” he said.

  Urko started and without a word he wheeled his horse around. The gorilla general looked about him worriedly, but saw nothing suspicious. Although there were no mosquitoes in the immediate area, Urko rode off at great speed, his soldiers close behind.

  Zoran watched Urko’s departure for several moments. Then, when the gorillas had ridden safely away, he turned to Virdon and Burke, suspiciously. Walking slowly toward them, fingering his own headpiece thoughtfully, he tried to seem casual, but the effect failed.

  “You two,” he said. “I notice that you are wearing your protective headgear again. I remember that you took them off shortly before General Urko arrived. And because you have been of such great assistance up until now, and because you seem to have so deep an understanding of this situation. I’d like to know why you think it necessary to cover your faces.” He looked at them, and he was unable to keep the suspicion out of his expression. “There are no mosquitoes here,” he said.

  Burke clapped his hands at an imaginary mosquito. He held his palms closely together; Zoran watched closely as Burke slowly opened a gap between his hands. “Missed!” said Burke disgustedly. “It was an albino mosquito. All white, with pink eyes. Very hard to see.”

  Zoran snorted derisively, but when Burke did not react, the Medical Officer raised his eyebrows. He did not know whether to believe Burke. An albino mosquito! But, still, the humans had been correct about things so far. Zoran continued to stare at Burke, whose innocent expression seemed to reassure the chimpanzee. A small hint of suspicion remained on Zoran’s face, but Burke ignored it. He and Virdon moved on. Zoran and the others followed.

  * * *

  In the large hospital hut, Amy Talbert was carrying fresh water and bathing her fevered patients. As she knelt to rinse the sweating face of one old man, she suddenly felt faint. Recovering, she shook her head to clear it; and forced the gnawing fear that she, too, might be showing the first symptoms of the fever out of her mind. She continued to work among the dying people, while near her, Inta, Zoran’s assistant, followed his superior’s instructions and aided the sick humans as well as he could.

  * * *

  In the wooded area, Virdon, Burke, and Zoran searched among the trees, looking for the particular growth that would yield a medicine for the fever. Burke was pessimistic: how many people would know what to look for, and recognize it when they found it? Virdon was more confident; he remembered the astronauts’ survival courses for various climates. A thorough study of animal and plant types had been given to them, along with a survey of native cures. The cinchona had been one of the things they had studied. Even if Burke hadn’t paid close enough attention, Virdon had. He described the tree and its bark to the others. “It’s more like a large shrub,” he said, “although there are several types we can use.”

  “I don’t think these guys would know a cinchona if it bit them on the leg,” said Burke.

  “Would you?” asked Zoran.

  “Sure,” said Burke hurriedly. “Oh, sure. Of course.” The party split up to search the area more thoroughly.

  They worked all the rest of that day, the men in the group getting more and more frustrated and hopeless as they brought scraps of bark to Virdon for identification. Nothing looked even vaguely like what Virdon was searching for. Then, while Virdon was looking for Burke, near sunset, he went through a portion of the forest that had been assigned to Zoran. The first thing the blond man noticed was a grove of what seemed to be cinchona trees. He stopped in his tracks and stared. Then slowly, muttering a short prayer, he walked to one of the trees to look at it closer. He pulled off a small, flat, brown piece of bark. He bit into it; the bitterness of the bark made Virdon wince.

  “Is it—?” asked Burke, who had come up behind Virdon.

  Virdon turned around, too hopeful to be startled. “Looks like it could be, and it sure tastes bad enough.”

  “I’d feel a lot better if you were sure,” said Burke.

  Virdon laughed. “To tell you the truth,” he said, “so would I.”

  Zoran joined them. He saw the bark in Virdon’s hands. “Have you found it?” he asked.

  “I think so,” said Virdon.

  Zoran reached out and took a small piece. He put it in his mouth and tasted it. “Ugh!” he said, making a face and spitting out the rest of the bark. “Terrible.”

  Virdon and Burke laughed at the sight the pompous Medical Officer made. “All good medicine tastes awful,” said Burke. “That was one of the first things I learned when I was a kid:”

  Zoran didn’t deign to reply to Burke. Instead, he turned his attention to Virdon. “But will it cure the fever?” he asked.

  “Not if we just stand here,” said Virdon. He began pulling off the bark. Zoran helped him, and Burke called the other men to come and join them. The work went quickly; the men had no idea of what the bark could be good for, and Zoran had only a vague notion. Burke was ignorant of the procedure for turning the raw bark into a usable medicine. Virdon spent the hour rehearsing in his mind the steps that had to be followed. In the preparation of quinine, the alkaloids in the bark had to be separated out, the natural lime in the bark neutralized, and the resulting crystals dissolved in an oil or alcohol base. None of the steps would be too difficult; that is, assuming that the humans of Trion had stores of the necessary substances.

  It was nearly dark when they finished peeling off a good supply of bark, and Virdon was satisfied that it was a sufficient quantity. They bundled it up as well as they could, and the humans, Zoran and Galen, began the march back to Trion.

  Torches were being lit along the main road that connected Trion with other nearby villages. The party entered the town wearily, throwing down the loads of bark in front of the hospital hut. Virdon looked around to see what had been accomplished during their absence. Most of the dead had been buried. Water was being fetched from the well and carried into the hospital in a steady operation. Some people were preparing food, and distributing it among those too ill to feed themselves, or too busy to fix their own meal. These people looked up when the astronauts and their helpers entered the village. There was a light of hope in their eyes, one that Virdon or Burke had not seen before. Each of the men wondered if they could be worthy of the faith the people of Trion had placed in them. The villagers gathered around Virdon and Burke, anxious to know what would happen next.

  “Here,” said Virdon to them, “we’ve got to work quickly. Get stones, flat stones, grind this bark into powder.” As the villagers began to take up, this new chore, Virdon turned to Inta, who had come out of the hospital hut. “Any more deaths?” asked Virdon.

  “One more,” said Inta. “And two more sick.”

  At this news, Virdon, Burke, and Zoran hurried into the hospital hut.

  They were met by a shocking sight, one that caused Virdon to gasp out loud. Burke swore softly. They ignored the pleadings of the other patients in the hospital hut; their attention was drawn to one small form, lying on one of the poor straw-filled mattresses. Amy’s face was bright with sweat, gleaming in the flickering light from candles and oil lamps. She jerked, spasmodically and cried out in pain. Even Zoran was moved at the sight of the heroic young girl who had been made so helpless by the rampaging fever.

  Burke was stunned. He moved slowly to Amy’s side and knelt by her. He took her hand, and he was amazed by how pale it was, and how soaked with perspiration. Amy turned slowly, trying to see him through the haze of her delirium. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  Her words brought Burke nearly to the edge of tears. “What the hell for?” he asked, his voice almost choked with emotion. Virdon knelt down on the other side of her mattress.

  “I… wanted to… help,” said Amy.

  “We got what we went for,” said Virdon. “So you hang in there.
You just hang in.” Amy nodded, then the effort was too great for her, and she was swallowed up by the sickness. Moaning, while her body twisted uncontrollably on the pallet. Virdon rose and walked sadly away. He was joined by Burke. They spoke together in hushed tones.

  “I’m sorry, Alan,” said Burke somberly.

  “About what?” asked Virdon.

  “A few things I’ve said and even more things that I’ve thought.” Burke jerked his head toward Amy. “This is rough on you.”

  “It’s not easy on anybody.”

  “When I look at her,” said Burke thoughtfully, “I don’t see a little girl who used to call me ‘Daddy’. I guess I’m lucky. No one back there to remember, really.”

  Virdon smiled. “Is that lucky?” he asked.

  “Absolutely,” said Burke. “I think. But, if we ever could make it back, you know, where we came from, I’d maybe start looking hard for someone soft, and permanent.”

  Virdon laughed ironically. “Then all of this hasn’t been in vain,” he said.

  Burke looked hurt. “I only said ‘maybe’, remember,” he said.

  “In that case,” said Virdon, “if I find a way back, I’ll think about taking you along.”

  Burke laughed. “You be sure to do that,” he said. Together the two friends moved outside.

  Throughout the night, Virdon directed the preparation of the medicine. The bark was ground into a fine powder by the work crew that had earlier made the headpieces and gloves. Powdered lime was added to the bark, and water, and the paste was dried in an oven for nearly an hour. Burke chafed at the passage of time, recalling the frightening aspect of Amy’s suffering. Nevertheless, there was nothing else to do. The manufacturing of the medicine couldn’t be hurried. The dried result of the baking was mixed with the only alcohol available, a kind of local whiskey made by the people of Trion from corn. The powder was allowed to settle to the bottom of the alcoholic mixture. The whiskey was discarded, and the powder was mixed with water and boiled. Virdon watched each step closely; everything had to be done at the right time, and only he understood the process. The powdered bark was purified several more times, redissolved in various solvents, and boiled with a large quantity of water. At last, near morning, Virdon judged that the bark had been transformed into usable quinine.