Planet of the Apes Omnibus 3

by Titan Books

  Virdon and Burke watched as Galen approached the girl. The noise of the breaking stick made them recoil as though it had been a cannon shot. “Oh, boy,” said Burke quietly. “Here we go.”

  “That’s pretty much the idea,” said Virdon. “I just wish Galen had more experience in these things.”

  “I wish we did, too,” said Burke.

  “I don’t think we can help but get it,” said Virdon.

  “We should live so long.”

  Galen stopped where he was; he didn’t want Fauna to think that he was sneaking up on her. He waited for her to turn around and look at him; for a moment it seemed to Galen that the young ape girl was concentrating on her prayers or was too involved with her grief to have heard him. He coughed slightly to let her know that he was there.

  Fauna reacted to the sound. Her head tilted slightly as she listened. She turned around, alarm beginning to show in her expression. But it was clear that she was not looking directly at Galen. Virdon and Burke realized at the same moment that Fauna was blind.

  “Who is it?” she asked hesitantly, warily. “Who’s there?” She turned her head from side to side, trying to catch another sound. Galen felt a sudden upwelling of pity for the young ape girl; he turned back to Virdon and Burke, not certain of his next move. Virdon waved, indicating that Galen should just go on with their plan. Burke and Virdon realized with some relief that Fauna had not actually seen them, that she could see nothing. They moved slightly forward, behind Galen.

  “We are strangers here,” said Galen. “I hope that we didn’t frighten you. We mean you no harm.”

  Fauna’s voice was still uncertain. “You are… apes?” she asked.

  There was a moment’s pause, while Galen considered the best reply. Whatever he answered would determine how they would continue through the entire situation. “Of course,” he said at last. He probed a little at her feelings. “You are frightened of humans?”

  Fauna indicated the grave. “They killed my father,” she said bitterly.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” said Galen. “I did not think they dared to kill apes.”

  “They’re savages,” said Fauna, the hate in her words sounding incongruous with her otherwise innocent manner. “I hate them. I shall always hate them for what they did.”

  There was another uncomfortable pause. “My name is, uh, Phoebus,” said Galen. “And these are my two friends, Alar and Pago.”

  “I am Fauna.” She turned, trying to locate the others. “Where are you?”

  “We’re right here,” said Burk hesitantly, glancing at Galen, wondering if he had done the right thing, after all.

  Fauna tilted her head again, listening to Burke’s voice. She smiled wistfully and shook her head. “Your voice,” she said curiously, “it’s familiar. Which one are you?”

  Virdon looked at Burke, wondering how Fauna could have thought that Burke’s voice was familiar. Burke shrugged. “I am Pago,” he said. “I don’t think that you know me. I’m from a very distant section. This is the first time I have ever been to your village.”

  “We were lost along the way,” said Galen. “We stopped for directions from a farmer nearby, and he told us that your community was nearby.”

  “Yes,” said Virdon. “We’ve been traveling a long way.”

  Fauna took a deep breath. “Well, then,” she said, “in that case, you must be tired and hungry. Even though this terrible thing has happened, I cannot forget the ways of hospitality that my father taught me. Will you come with me to my house? You can rest there, and I have food and drink.”

  Galen was about to reply, but Virdon cut him short with a curt gesture. “Do you live alone?” asked the blond man warily. They couldn’t let their sense of urgency or their physical discomfort persuade them into a dangerous relaxation of their guard.

  “I live with my Uncle Sestus,” said Fauna. “He has ridden into the village for supplies, but he will be back by nightfall.”

  Burke and Virdon looked at Galen, who merely shrugged. A decision was needed, and quickly; but there wasn’t enough information on which to base it. Could they trust this ape girl’s uncle? There was no way of telling. And the girl thought that all three travelers were apes; the uncle would immediately see that they weren’t. The evident lie would cause instant mistrust.

  But, on the other hand, they were hungry and tired.

  “Well,” said Burke, looking to Virdon for advice but getting only a shrug of the blond astronaut’s shoulders, “we haven’t much time to spare, but we haven’t eaten in quite a long time.”

  “Good, good,” said Fauna delightedly. “Then follow me.” The ape girl walked slowly back toward the grave, carrying some flowers she had brought when the three fugitives had interrupted her. Virdon and Burke backed quickly away from her as she passed, to avoid discovery if she accidentally touched their skin. She knelt again and placed the flowers on the grave, feeling it gently with her sensitive fingers. Then she rose and walked off with easy, sure steps, using only a stick to guide her. The two humans and the chimpanzee watched her, feeling a sense of admiration for Fauna’s courage and self-control. When she had passed, they followed.

  “I hope you will stay to meet Uncle Sestus,” she said. “You will like him.”

  “That may be,” whispered Burke, so that only Virdon and Galen could hear. “But the problem is, will he like us?”

  “Galen,” whispered Virdon, “you may have to be really charming tonight.”

  Galen only raised his eyebrows. “No problem,” he said. “No problem at all.”

  * * *

  A couple of miles away, on the road that led past Jasko’s house toward Fauna’s village, the Dragoons galloped, tired from their raid, but exulting in their power and success. They were a fearsome group, although for the most part their only audience was themselves. They shouted to each other as they rode and waved their rifles fiercely above their heads. They reined up at a crossroad. One of the group, the same Dragoon chimpanzee who had watched the destruction of Jasko’s home with such emotion, pulled over to a wagon parked off the road beneath a shady oak tree.

  The Dragoon leader watched the chimpanzee as he harnessed his horse to pull the wagon. “You will be notified when we raid again,” said the leader.

  The Dragoon chimpanzee nodded that he understood. He climbed up on his wagon, and the rest of the Dragoons galloped off. The last Dragoon in the party turned and waved. “See you then, Sestus!” he called.

  The chimpanzee on the wagon removed his leather mask; beneath it, the graying hair and beard of Sestus, Fauna’s uncle, lay matted with sweat. He watched the Dragoons as they disappeared around a bend in the road. Then he turned and flicked the reins. The horse started walking slowly back to the village, and the wagon made a lonely creaking sound in the afternoon stillness.

  6

  The atmosphere of stillness and peace was so intensive that it seemed unbreakable to Virdon, Burke, and Galen. But that same feeling had been shattered on previous occasions, and the fugitives knew that this situation was potentially just as explosive. Nevertheless, listening to the singing of the birds and the sighing of boughs in the fresh ocean breeze, they could almost pretend that they were safe and secure. They could almost pretend happiness; it was as close as they ever got.

  They saw a simple frame house built of wood and stone with a small barn toward the rear. This was the house of Fauna’s uncle. The young female ape led them to the front porch and into the house. Before they entered, the humans and their chimpanzee friend searched carefully for any sign of the uncle, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Please sit down and be comfortable,” said Fauna when they had all come in.

  “This is a very nice home,” said Galen. “Bright, airy, and very clean.”

  “Thank you,” said Fauna.

  “Can we help you with something?” asked the chimpanzee.

  Fauna turned to face him. She smiled. “Why do you ask?” she said lightly. “Because I’m blind? Don�
�t be silly. I manage quite well.”

  She went about the room, setting the table with wooden utensils and ceramic dishes. Then she prepared a simple but refreshing vegetarian meal and set that, too, on the table. Finally she made some lemonade, a special treat. The lemons had been a gift to Fauna from Lucian, her father, shortly before he was murdered. She paused while squeezing the lemons; to the humans it seemed that she might cry. But she quickly got control of herself and finished setting out the meal.

  “Being unable to see has really changed very little,” she said in a soft, poignant voice. “I know the farm and most of the area for some distance around; and I am so familiar with it that I don’t really need my eyes.”

  Burke, Virdon, and Galen sat at the table and hungrily began to eat the food.

  “Of course, there are some things that I miss,” she said wistfully. “The sun setting. The colors of the flowers. And, most of all, reading. My father collected many books and, though I read them all when I was still young, he would read them to me over and over. Every night, by the fire, my father—” She broke off, tears at last spilling out and running down her cheeks.

  Burke watched Fauna, his expression sympathetic and pitying. He wanted to comfort her, but his false identity had built a wall between him and the chimpanzee girl. He wondered at his own feelings; after all, he had never felt such strong compassion before, not for an ape. Even Galen, who had become a genuine friend, did not create in Burke so strong an attachment. Burke looked at Galen, who was occupied primarily in emptying his plate. He was not paying close attention to what Fauna was saying. Virdon, like Burke, was struck by the depth of the female ape’s feelings.

  “You must have loved your father very much,” said Virdon gently. He understood what she felt, perhaps better than Burke, because Virdon had left his own wife and children behind. Burke had always been more of a lone spirit; Virdon reacted to displays of familial love with his own painful memories.

  “Yes,” said Fauna, nodding.

  “These humans who, uh, who…” Virdon’s voice trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. “Do you know who they were?”

  “No,” said Fauna, wiping the tears from her face. “But my Uncle Sestus saw it happen. He was there. He told me everything.”

  “I hate to seem like I’m prying,” said Burke. “But we traveled here as soon as we heard the news about your father. We thought that we might be of some help.”

  “I appreciate your kindness,” said Fauna. “Perhaps it would be good for me to talk about it. Especially to such sympathetic apes as you. It helps to remind me that we are not as the humans. We are apes, and they are savages.” Again, as she said those words, her expression twisted into a startling mask of hatred. Burke turned a helpless face to Virdon.

  “How did it happen?” asked Burke.

  “There were two of them,” said Fauna, her voice soft and aching. “They came here asking for food, and my father gave it to them. He tried to make friends with them. Uncle Sestus warned him that humans were treacherous, but Father didn’t listen. Then, down by the river, the humans attacked my father and killed him.”

  A few seconds elapsed during which none of the three travelers wished to say anything. “But there must have been a reason why they did it,” said Burke. “There must have been some kind of motive.”

  Fauna frowned. “They’re savages,” she said bitterly. “They don’t need reasons to kill.”

  Once again there was a pause; Burke looked at Virdon. The situation was less promising than they had first imagined. A solution seemed further off than ever. And Fauna would be unlikely to help them; it was only a matter of time before their disguise was penetrated.

  “Fauna,” said Burke, “please tell me if you don’t feel like answering my questions. But I think we can help bring whoever is responsible for your father’s death to justice.”

  “That is all that I want,” said Fauna. “Now that I know nothing can ever bring back my father.”

  “Did your uncle get a description of them?” asked Burke. “How tall? What they were wearing, anything that could help us?”

  “No,” she said. “It was dark, early in the evening. Under the shadows of the trees, on the bank of the river, it was difficult to see clearly. Uncle Sestus said that he saw very little of the humans; he did not know what was happening until it was too late. Besides, who can tell one human from another? When I could see, they all looked alike to me.”

  Galen had finished his meal and sat back in his chair. He smiled at Burke and Virdon. “I have the same problem,” he said. Virdon just shook his head in disbelief.

  “Let me get some milk for you,” said Fauna. She stood up from the seat she had taken at the table and went into the kitchen area again. She returned with a pitcher of milk. She started to pour a cupful, then paused thoughtfully. “Pago,” she said, “where are you?”

  “Here,” said Burke warily. He had an idea what she was going to say next.

  She finished pouring the milk and moved very close to him. She put the cup of milk down and, as she drew back, she made a slight attempt to touch his hand. “I’d like to—” she said.

  Burke, frightened, snapped his hand away quickly, knocking over the milk which spilled across the table. This moment gave Burke a chance to move away from the table, and away from Fauna’s touch. “I’m sorry, Fauna,” he said. “I’m afraid that I’ve spilled your milk.”

  “It’s all right, Pago,” she said. “Sit down. Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up. Pour yourself some more.”

  Fauna started to get a cloth to clean up the spilled milk, but she stopped. She seemed to be listening to a sound that her acute hearing had picked up. “I think that I hear Uncle Sestus’ wagon,” she said happily. “He must be coming back early.”

  The fugitives reacted in alarm. Galen rose and went to a window. He glanced out. “I don’t see anyone yet,” he said, trying to make his voice calm and unworried. “I don’t hear a wagon, either.”

  “My hearing is sharper, perhaps,” said Fauna. “I have come to depend on it. I can recognize sounds that most people can’t even hear.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Galen evenly. “I see a wagon coming along the road in the distance. It’s drawn by a single horse. A single chimpanzee is riding in it. That would be your uncle. The back of the wagon is filled with supplies.”

  Galen turned around. Burke and Virdon had gotten to their feet; the three stood motionless, trying to decide the best course now. It was plain that they couldn’t stay to be discovered by Fauna’s Uncle Sestus. But they couldn’t run out without arousing the ape girl’s suspicions.

  “Fauna,” said Burke quietly, “there’s something I think we’d better tell you—”

  Virdon and Galen showed alarm at the dark-haired man’s words. Burke just waved for them to be silent. Fauna turned toward Burke curiously. He spoke to her quickly and confidently. Everything depended on their elaborating the original lie without alienating Fauna. Burke got a sudden inspiration; he did not have much time.

  “What could it be?” asked Fauna, her face creased with a frown of surprise. “Surely you’re not going to tell me that you’re human beings, after all.”

  Burke gave a strained laugh. He held up his hand again to signal to his friends that he knew what he was doing, and that they ought to play along. “Oh, no,” he said. “Nothing like that. You said that you miss reading, most of all. Well, the love of books is something that we share with you. But unfortunately it’s gotten us into trouble with the Ministry of Knowledge.”

  Fauna’s frown deepened. She did not understand the ways of the apes in Central City or the workings of the government. “Trouble?” she said. “What kind of trouble?”

  “There were certain books which we didn’t know had been banned,” said Burke. “The police found those books in our house. Rather than be tossed into prison just because we like to read, we chose to run.”

  Fauna was astonished. She had never heard of any
thing so terrible happening among apes. “You mean, they were going to punish you for reading?” she asked.

  Virdon picked up on Burke’s idea and added a supporting argument. “Well,” he said, “it’s a matter of those ideas in books which some people find threatening to their way of life.”

  Galen peered out of the window again. Sestus was drawing closer; he was only a couple of hundred yards down the road. Whatever Burke was leading up to, it had better reach its conclusion soon.

  “But surely it can’t be against the law to think,” said Fauna.

  “Your uncle might not be as understanding as you are,” said Burke. “We better leave now, before he comes. You can see why we have to be careful.”

  Fauna seemed disturbed. She considered what Burke said. “Yes,” she said, “I’m afraid Uncle Sestus doesn’t feel quite the same way as I do about books. He used to quarrel about them with my father.” Fauna fell silent. Galen looked at Burke, trying to convey a thought of “what now?” Virdon wore the same expression. Unfortunately for all of them, Burke had arrived at the same empty conclusion. “I have an idea,” said Fauna. “I know a place where you can hide safely. You can rest there as long as you like. It’s not far from here.”

  Galen was uncertain. He preferred just making a run for it and leaving the territory altogether. “I don’t think that’s a very—” he said.

  “Oh, please,” interrupted Fauna. “Let me do this for you. It would give me great pleasure.”

  Virdon, Burke, and Galen exchanged glances. A silent vote was taken.

  Sestus drove the loaded wagon into the yard in front of his house. The wagon and the horse made a noisy alarm for the two humans and two chimpanzees inside. The wagon passed the front door and went around the corner of the house to the small barn. When the wagon had passed, Fauna led the astronauts and their chimpanzee ally out of the house and toward the sea cliffs beyond. Galen carried a basket of food and drink. They walked quickly across the yard, as quietly as they could manage.