Planet of the Apes

by Rich Handley

  “That’s him,” one of them grunted.

  “Might I interest each of you in a sweet?” Sun asked. “Lai the baker left me in charge of his shop, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind—”

  He was cut off as one of the giants hurled something at him. As it opened, it looked like a spider web.

  Sun hooted and flung himself to the side, but the net hit his right foot and caught at his ankle. He leapt up and seized one of the ceiling beams, kicking his feet. The net came off, whirling into the face of one of his attackers. In the same instant, the end of a long pole swished by his head. Sun yelped and grabbed hold of the end of it. The force of the swing carried him past a mound of steamed buns; he caught several with his free hand and feet and hurled them at the big ape-apes, which he just now remembered were also known as gorillas.

  “Stop that!” one of them shouted. “You can’t get past us.”

  The ape holding the staff swung it so as to slam Sun into the wall. He scrambled down the length of it, up the gorilla’s arm, across his face, down his back—and was out of the shop. He dodged as a fourth gorilla he hadn’t seen lunged for him, and suddenly found himself face to-face with Baker Lai. He ducked between the chimp’s legs and gave him a good thwack in his privates as he did so. Then he bounded into the trees behind the shop, laughing a little as the roars of rage and Lai’s moans of pain faded behind him.

  As he left the village once again behind him, Sun wondered what on earth the gorillas were up to. It was obviously Lai who had proposed the trap, but what interest did the big apes have in doing Lai a favor? He tried to recall if he had ever made mischief amongst gorillas great enough to draw vengeance. In his youth, perhaps. He had been much enamored of wine in those days, and there were gaps in his memory. But gorillas were rare in these parts, as evidenced by his forgetting what they were called.

  They seemed warlike. Perhaps they were merely mercenaries hired by someone else to capture him. But he couldn’t think of anyone who would go through that much trouble over a simple siamang.

  All the more reason to move on from Four Fortune to someplace less threatening.

  But he decided to put off leaving until morning. And in the morning he was hungry, and supposed that perhaps he ought to make one last trip to town.

  Outside of the village, in a clearing by the stream, Sun saw one of the gorillas. He was alone, seated on a red cushion, facing a small table piled with sweets. Another cushion lay on the other side of the table. Sun approached cautiously, searching for hidden confederates, but the leader—he could see now it was the leader—truly seemed to be alone.

  Sun sat there for a few moments, dithering a little, more curious by the moment. As he watched, the gorilla took a bun from the dish and popped it into his mouth.

  Sun moved up to the edge of the clearing. The dark gaze of the larger ape flicked to fix on him. Besides his chewing, it was the only motion he made.

  “I made a mistake in trying to have you captured,” the gorilla said, after swallowing. “I admit that now. I am an ape of war, and am used to taking what I want.”

  “I am of the belief,” Sun said, “that you have somehow mistaken this lowly person for someone he is not. I have thought hard and long on this, and cannot imagine any harm I might have done you or any use that I might be to you.”

  “My name is Shor Telag,” the gorilla said. “The warlord. Perhaps you have heard of me.”

  “Of course,” Sun lied. “The mention of your name shakes the branches of peach trees a thousand miles away.”

  Shor looked pleased. “You are more knowledgeable in that respect than these villagers,” he said.

  “I am perhaps more widely traveled,” Sun said. “Of what use could this poor siamang be to your august eminence?”

  “I have conquered many towns and villages, siamang,” Shor said. “I have brought order where there never was. I have brought law to the lawless. I have collected artists, architects, and philosophers and built a magnificent city to be my capitol.”

  “That all sounds very grand,” Sun said.

  “It is. And yet, I fear at my death it will all be for naught. My sons are simpletons, at best. Even my most trusted followers may well squabble when I am gone and divide my legacy. I cannot bear the thought of this, and have deliberated much on the matter. I have consulted sages and oracles, and in the end there is only one remedy for my situation.”

  “You wish me to rule after you are gone?” Sun said. “This is very flattering, but I have no natural inclination toward governance.”

  “No,” the gorilla thundered, impatiently. “Come closer so we can converse in a normal way. Have some sweets.”

  Sun came closer, but not all the way to the table.

  “I don’t blame you for your suspicions,” Shor Telag said. “My apologies again for my clumsy attempt at capturing you.”

  “I am not offended,” Sun said. “But tell me—what is the solution to your dilemma?”

  “Oh, that is simple,” Shor said. “I must live forever. Then my legacy will be secure.”

  The gorilla’s gaze intensified. He seemed to desire some sort of reaction from Sun.

  “Well, yes,” Sun said, after a bit. “That is, indeed, simple.”

  Shor showed his teeth. “You understand now why I have searched for you.”

  “I fear I no longer follow you,” Sun said.

  The gorilla shrugged. “Eat with me.”

  Sun was, in fact, very hungry. It was hard to keep his mind off the treats. He sidled up to the table, gauging that Shor’s arms were not long enough to reach across. He sat on the pillow and chose a bean paste-filled bun from which the gorilla had already taken a bite.

  “You would eat after me?” Shor said.

  “It is a gesture of trust where I am from,” Sun said.

  “You’re thinking I may have poisoned the food,” Shor said, wagging the back of his hand at Sun.

  Sun looked at the bun. “I am now,” he replied.

  “I haven’t, and it isn’t,” Shor said. “I only wish for you to tell me what you know of the Stone Monkey.”

  “Stone Monkey?” Sun said.

  “I understand your reluctance to speak of this,” Shor said. “So let me begin. There is a legend that dates to the time when the accursed cities of man fell and the Blighted Regions were created. The legend of the Stone Monkey.”

  “I know nothing of such things,” Sun said.

  The gorilla frowned a bit before going on.

  “They say that a ray from the heavens struck a stone, and from it was born the Monkey King. He ruled over legions of monkeys in a secret cave in a faraway mountain. He learned much magic—how to fly upon clouds, how to control the elements, and much more. And he came to possess all manner of fabulous weapons. They say he traveled to Hell and struck his name from the Book of Life and Death, and thus became immortal.”

  “A fantastic tale, indeed,” Sun said.

  Shor leaned forward a little.

  “Magic is the stuff of children’s stories, of course,” Shor said. “But all such fables are built on a foundation of truth. In ancient times, it was possible to fly as if on a cloud. There were weapons so powerful they could level cities and entire regions—the evidence for this is everywhere. This was not magic, but a thing called science. And if science can explain those aspects of the story, there is little reason to doubt that in those days, some elixir or tonic may have been created to sustain a life far beyond its normal span. That secret, like so many others, would have been lost in the Time of Thunder and Fire. Lost to all but the so-called Stone Monkey, the Monkey King, who thieved the secret from Hell—the Hell that was human-imposed slavery, or perhaps the Hell man unleashed upon the world with his weapons.”

  Shor leaned back and crossed his arms.

  “You see how it all fits?”

  “Your logic seems undisputable,” Sun said. “But it is all very much beyond me.”

  “I have searched for a long time,” Shor said, “findi
ng little bits and pieces of evidence, adding them together—all of which led me inevitably here. Because the stories are not all old. There are recent accounts that point to the existence of the Monkey King. Most recently, I met with an ancient orangutan sage, who told me that in the village of Four Fortune I would find a siamang who is a loyal subject of the Stone Monkey. Here I am, and you are the only siamang present.”

  “Perhaps the sage was a drunkard,” Sun said, “or merely wished to speed you on your way.”

  “Perhaps,” Shor said. “But I think not.”

  “I should also like to point out that I am not a monkey, but rather an ape.”

  “There is no need to put on airs,” Shor said. “We are taught that there are three kinds of ape—gorillas, chimpanzees, and orangutans. You are not any one of those, nor are you human. You are, therefore, a monkey.”

  “I have no tail,” Sun said.

  “Neither do baboons,” Shor said. He struck his chest with his fist. “Don’t be troubled or take offense,” he said. “I am not like these rural bumpkins. In my empire, even monkeys have their place. Now, will you guide me to your master?”

  “Why have you become so blurry?” Sun asked.

  He tried to get up, but his hands and feet felt heavy.

  “You were right to believe the food was drugged,” Shor said.

  “But you ate it, too,” Sun said. His tongue felt like a tadpole, on the verge of escaping down a stream.

  “Stupid monkey,” Shor said. “I outweigh you by ten times. I will be mildly intoxicated for a few hours. You, on the other hand…”

  “Yes, I see,” Sun said, slowly leaning forward until his face was flat against the table. He felt the bump, and then his mind wandered off into distant places of strange light and voices he did not understand.

  * * *

  He came back around to Baker Lai’s angry face.

  “Now you will get yours,” Lai said.

  Sun shook his head, trying to clear it. His hands and feet were shackled by chains to a wooden post.

  “Where are they?” he asked.

  “That is none of your concern,” Lai said. “I was chosen to watch you and alert them once you’re awake.”

  “Baker Lai,” Sun said, “you must listen to me closely—”

  “No,” Lai said. “You listen. When I was a child, I thought you were funny. Always playing pranks and making the adults look foolish. And then Lo the wine-monger found you asleep amongst the bottles of his most excellent vintage and put you in a bamboo cage. Do you remember this?”

  “I’m not sure I recall—”

  “I do,” Lai said. “I was three. You told me the cage was a magical carriage which would soon transport you to the Mountain of Heavenly Delights, where everyone does what they want all day and sweets fall like rain. And so I begged to go with you, and you said that only one could go at a time, but that I could take your place, if only I could find the magic key.”

  “Look—” Sun said.

  “So they found me, locked in the cage, with a big stupid smile on my face. Do you know how long it took me to live that down?”

  “Baker Lai,” Sun said, “that was all in the past, and I apologize. Now you must consider the future. Release me. Then you must flee. Do not pause to gather your things. Warn the others to do the same.”

  “You will not trick me again,” Lai said. “We have had enough of your foolery.”

  “This isn’t foolery,” Sun said. “You do not know apes like these. I do.”

  “I have met gorillas, in my trips to the south.”

  “I don’t mean gorillas,” Sun said. “I mean apes of this nature. They believe I know the way to a prize beyond all value—”

  “And if I release you, you will take me there instead,” Lai sneered. “I am no longer three.”

  “There is no prize,” Sun said. “But they believe there is. Everyone in this village is in danger.”

  “Why? They have what they came for.”

  “Exactly,” Sun said. He sighed. “Release me or don’t,” he said. “But put as many footsteps between you and this place as you can. The sooner, the better.”

  Lai’s angry certainty now looked more like confusion.

  “I don’t know what you’re playing at,” he said. “I’m going to tell them you’re awake.”

  “You shouldn’t,” Sun said.

  More than an hour passed before they came. They put him on one of the horses, still shackled, sitting in front of one of the gorillas. As they made their way up the road that wound into the hills, Sun looked back at the flame and smoke from the village. He heard a few screams, but not many.

  It had taken a while for the gorillas to come for him. Maybe Lai had taken his advice. Maybe he had warned others.

  Maybe.

  * * *

  The gorillas made camp not much later, erecting a large, garish tent and several taller ones. After a bit, Sun was carried into the tent, still bound, and placed before Shor, who was seated on a pile of pillows.

  “We shall have this conversation one more time,” the warlord told him. “If I do not like the direction it takes, I will have your fingers and toes severed one by one. After that, we will begin taking your limbs a joint at a time. The wounds will be cauterized so you do not bleed to death. Is this all very clear to you?”

  “Very clear,” Sun said. “I was prepared to speak candidly yesterday, which you would have learned had I remained conscious.”

  “You will pardon me if I am skeptical,” Shor said. But his eyes now shone with a strange light. “Tell me what you know.”

  “Well,” Sun told him, “it is as you said. All of that about the Monkey King.”

  “You know him. You have met him.”

  Sun pretended to hesitate. Then he nodded.

  “And you will show me the way.”

  “That presents a bit of a problem,” Sun said. “You see, I am not exactly—ah—highly welcome there at the moment. A little matter, not worth going into.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” Shor said. “Why else would you spend your time making an annoyance of yourself in a backwater village? But you are under my protection now. You need not fear him.”

  He signed at one of his subordinates.

  “Bring it,” he said.

  A moment later, the gorilla handed Shor the sheath that had been on his horse. The warlord withdrew its contents.

  “Do you know what this is?” Shor asked.

  “I do not,” Sun said, even though he did.

  “It is called a gun,” Shor said. “A powerful weapon, a product of the science I spoke of earlier.”

  “Yes,” Sun said. “But…”

  “What?” Shor demanded.

  “Well, it is just as you said. The Monkey King is immortal. However fearsome your weapon, it will have no effect on him.”

  Shor’s eyebrows lowered dangerously. “I told you, I do not believe in fairy tales. From what I have heard, he does not age, but he is not invulnerable. However old he is, a bullet will not bounce off of his skin. You will see.” He cocked his head. “Which finger shall we begin with?”

  Sun hung his head. “Very well,” he said. “I will guide you there.”

  “Of course you will,” Shor said.

  * * *

  When they reached the border of the Blighted Region, Shor’s soldiers began to mutter amongst themselves, and even the warlord seemed visibly disturbed.

  “There must be some other way,” he said, gazing out at the wasteland that stretched off to the horizon.

  “There is not,” Sun said. “At least, not that I know of.”

  “If this is some trick, monkey—”

  “I came this way,” Sun said. “But I understand if you’re afraid to venture in.”

  “Are you implying that a monkey is braver than the Warlord of Shor?” the gorilla roared. He kneed his horse, and it surged forward into the desert.

  The Blighted Region was not bereft of life. Tough weeds and grasses clun
g here and there, and dangerous, venomous things lurked beneath stone and sand. Bolder were the hunchbacked predators whose ancestors might have been dholes. A pack of perhaps seven paced them for much of the second day.

  “They will attack when night falls,” Sun told Shor.

  “Will they?” Shor said. He reached to the sheath strapped to his saddle, unlaced it, and drew forth the weapon. Its barrel was a dull, grey color, and the stock was scratched and dented. Shor raised it, took careful aim. Then thunder seemed to clap. Sun shrieked and put his hands to his ears. One of the dhole-beasts fell over, writhing. The others looked at it, confused, as Shor took aim again.

  He shot four times, and four of the animals fell. The others finally got the hint and vanished over the nearest rise.

  “You see now why I fear nothing,” Shor said.

  “Quite so,” Sun replied, shivering a little.

  That night, they built a fire from what wood they could scavenge, which wasn’t much. When yellow eyes appeared in the darkness, Shor fired the gun at them.

  After that, they did not see the dog things again, except for the dead one just outside the edge of camp.

  In four days they reached the river, which provided relief from the barren wastes. Its waters brought life from its headwaters, willows and rushes and fish and small singing frogs. Otters of great size cavorted in the waters, and turquoise kingfishers hunted from the treetops. Beyond the bright stream, all was again desolation.

  “Must we cross the river?” Shor asked.

  Sun hesitated.

  “I’ve been tied up for days,” he said. “Couldn’t we take a rest here? I’d like to take a bath in the river.”

  “I’ve no doubt you would,” Shor said. “And you also hope I will underestimate you. If I did not untie you in the desert, why do you think I would here, where if you escaped you might have some hope of survival?”

  “Warlord, I am cooperating as best I can.”

  “And yet, each day you seem uncertain what direction to take. First north, then east, then northwest. If I didn’t know better, I would think you were doing nothing more than trying to get us lost. That leads me to two possible conclusions: either you don’t know where the Monkey King is and you’re biding your time until you see an opportunity to escape, or your loyalty to him is so great you would lead us to our doom rather than take us to him.”