“Me?” the gorilla replied. “I’m just a garbage ape.” His grub was gone. “I drink a lot. Got arrested. Saw something I shouldn’t have.” Then the ape’s eyes lit up. “A human, like you,” he exclaimed. “He talked, too!”
“Landon?” Taylor grabbed Mungwortt by the collar. “What did you see?”
Had Mungwortt watched them cut up Landon?
“I saw him talking to a chimpanzee!” Mungwortt winced.
“What chimpanzee?” the astronaut demanded. “Cornelius? Zira?”
“No,” the ape replied. “Milo, I think his name was. It was at Dr. Galen’s place.” Taylor didn’t know who the hell this Milo was, but Galen he remembered. He’d heard the name at his trial. Galen was a surgeon, and the ape prosecutor had accused Zira of working with him to produce a “talking monster.” That monster was Taylor.
Shaking his head, trying to organize the chaos of his thoughts, the astronaut regarded his companion. The ape was bleeding from the arm, perhaps from Taylor’s assault. He reached out to it and Mungwortt cowered. Taylor let him go and he pulled back cautiously.
“Here.” Taylor removed his tunic and pulled the undershirt up over his head. He shredded the shirt into long strips and motioned to Mungwortt’s wound. “Give me your arm.” The gorilla reached out tentatively, and Taylor began to wrap the wounds. It looked as if some animal had tried to take a bite out of the gorilla, too.
“Watch that bite,” he said. “Looks like it might be infected.”
Mungwortt regarded the swaddled wound, and then glanced up. “How long do I have to look at it?”
Taylor sat back. “You’re not like the other gorillas I’ve seen,” the astronaut said.
“That’s ’cause I’m not a gorilla.” Impressed at the human’s makeshift field dressing, Mungwortt shook his head. “Not just a gorilla anyway. My mother was chimpanzee.”
So, the boy wasn’t unique, Taylor thought. Maybe crossbreeding was rampant on this planet of apes. A result of the radiation, or something else?
Taylor pushed it out of his mind. For now.
“You were arrested,” he prompted.
“Yeah, but the police didn’t just lock me up,” Mungwortt replied. “They took me to the Forbidden Zone and threw me in a pit. Me and Zao.”
Taylor simply stared.
“Oh.” Mungwortt understood. “Zao. He’s an elder. He was Minister of Science when I was a kid. Before Dr. Zaius took over. He knew Zaius. Well, they talked like they knew each other, but Zaius had Zao banished anyhow. Me too.”
“Well, where is Zao?” Taylor asked. “Was he with you? Did you leave him in a tunnel somewhere?” At that the gorilla became excited. Immediately, he rummaged through the sack he had insisted on carrying. He pulled out a skull, and dropped it into his lap.
“Human Tay-Lor,” he said, “meet orangutan Zao.” He rapped on the skull’s forehead.
“Say hello, Zao!”
When the skull didn’t reply, Mungwortt lifted it to his head and listened at its snout. “Zao?”
Taylor wondered if he’d just escaped one kind of crazy and walked right into another. A whirring sound filled his ears and he started to get a headache. This was a stupid, repugnant animal, and it was pissing him off. Anger welled up inside of him, and a single thought filled his head.
Kill the enemy.
Before he could get a grip on his temper, he lashed out and kicked the gorilla out of the teacup. Mungwortt’s momentum slammed him into the nearest catwalk over the waterfalls. Even so, he managed to hold onto the skull.
“What’d I do, Tay-Lor?” he cried out, hanging on for dear life. “What did I do?”
The buzzing grew louder. “Inside my head,” the astronaut gritted. Out for blood, he threw himself at his tormentor.
CHAPTER 22
PAST REVELATIONS HERALD FUTURE TRANSGRESSIONS
“You could have just let nature take its course,” Zira bemoaned.
Cornelius rolled his eyes. The two of them were in the minister’s office, cleaning up after Sabian’s accident. A physician had arrived relatively quickly and spirited the elder away. It had been a minor stroke, and the minister was expected to make a full recovery.
Police Chief Cerek had questioned Cornelius, and satisfied that there was no foul play involved, had left the chimpanzee to take care of the mess. Rather than wait for her husband to return home late, Zira had opted to join him. It was after hours, and they were the only two in the administrative offices—save for the occasional museum guard who walked the hallways.
“My dear,” Cornelius countered, “letting him die would have been positively unsimian. Besides,” he added, “aren’t you the one who’s always going on about living up to our principles?”
Zira sighed. Cornelius was right, of course. That didn’t make it any better. Sabian’s audacity knew no bounds. It was appalling for him to suggest conscription for chimpanzees. Chimps had been pacifistic for generations.
The newlyweds had discovered other proposals Sabian had been working on, not least of which was building a wall around all of Simia to keep the humans out. Even assuming that Ursus had already managed to eradicate all the humans living within their borders, it made no sense. Aside from the astronomical costs involved, there wouldn’t be enough apes to patrol its perimeter.
One might just as well build a wall blocking the way to outer space, Zira fumed. Otherwise, humans like Taylor and Brent will just float right over it.
She pushed the thought out of her mind and concentrated on organizing the scroll cases which littered the office. The room was covered in archaic texts, both canon and apocrypha. They were stunned to find a copy of the taboo Book of Simian Prophecy, and quickly stored it out of sight. While Cornelius systemized the legal and science scrolls, Zira attempted to categorize the dogmatic texts.
“Cornelius, what do you suppose this is?”
She handed him a hefty scroll case. It bore no indication as to where it belonged. Made of ash, the case was etched with three archaic hieroglyphs, the likes of which Cornelius had only seen on ancient religious artifacts. Aside from the three marks, the scroll case was stamped in wax with an indication that it was a copy, and the property of the Office of the Chief Defender of the Faith.
“Curious,” he said. Looking through the scroll stacks he had already assembled, he located the translation codex and began to decipher the glyphs. The first one was simple. “Lawgiver,” he said.
“Forbidden,” the second read. Though the third one was more complicated, the codex ultimately revealed its meaning.
“Forgotten.”
The two chimpanzees paused. Whatever the case contained, the contents were not meant for chimpanzee eyes.
Zira began to open it.
* * *
Rachel, Nevada
1969
It was Christmas Eve, and they were going to be late to church.
“Joey, turn off the TV and go see Mommy. Go get dressed,” Taylor warned, “before I tan your behind.” The two-year-old just giggled. She turned the dial from cartoon to static and tore off toward the bathroom.
The house was a wreck. Toys littered the unswept floors, dishes crowded the sink, and clothing was scattered everywhere. It was increasingly like this every time he returned home. To Taylor, it felt as if Gillian just didn’t care to maintain their home anymore. He resolved to have a word with her about it… after the holidays.
Never a religious man, Taylor nonetheless had agreed to raise the girls Christian, and Gillian’s parents wouldn’t have had it any other way. Unfortunately for him, that meant going to church on his holiday and weekend passes.
The Christmas tree bulbs blinked on and off, stabbing the dark with reds, oranges, blues, and greens. After a few moments there was movement. Still in her underwear, Joey Taylor peeked out from behind it.
“Where’s your dress?” Taylor demanded. “Mommy’s supposed to get you dressed.”
“Mommy’s busy,” she said, and she pointed to the close
d bathroom door.
“Gillian,” Taylor growled, raising his voice. “Where’s Joey’s dress?”
“I’ve got it,” Gillian shouted. “I’ll dress her when I’m done.” After a pause, she spoke. “George, can you check on Tammy?”
Sighing, he scoured the house for his younger daughter. Tammy was sitting on the floor in the kitchen, her diaper full and funky. He was looking forward to the day when she learned to use the bathroom, but realized that if his wife was always going to be locked in there, they’d all need diapers anyway. Gingerly he lifted her and brought her to the bedroom.
“Where are the diapers?” he called out. “Tammy needs to be changed.” When there was no reply, he placed her in the crib and grabbed his wallet and keys from the nightstand. Strapping on his watch, he was horrified to learn the time.
“Gillian!” He hadn’t even shaved yet. “Other people need to use the bathroom.”
“When I’m done!” she yelled back. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she slept in there. He rubbed his coarse chin. The shave wasn’t the worst of it—Gillian had bought him a new tie. It was huge and bold and red and covered in psychedelic swirls. He had to wear it with his blue suit and he hated it. As he grappled against the long cloth strip, he considered hanging himself with it instead. The thought made him crack a toothy grin.
All for the promise of a better world.
The doorbell rang.
“I got it,” Taylor said. At this rate, he’d be surprised if he ever got the tie done.
Leaving the baby in her crib, he went to the front door and opened it. His eyes went wide with surprise. Stewart stood there. She wore a yellow-and-white polka-dot shift dress, her blond silky hair styled in a flipped bob. Her low-heel boots white and her makeup modest, she was gorgeous.
“Maryann?”
“George.” She smiled.
“What are you doing here—”
“Who is this?” Of all the times she might vacate the bathroom, Gillian chose this one.
“She’s—” he began.
“Lieutenant Stewart, Mrs. Taylor.” Maryann extended her hand. “I’m an astronaut; I work with your husband.”
“I see.” Realization of a most unpleasant kind dawned on Gillian’s features. She did not take Maryann’s hand. “I’ll let the two of you get back”—she put emphasis on the last—“to work.” Leaving them standing on the porch, Taylor’s wife gently closed the door behind her—an act that meant far worse than if she had slammed it. There would be consequences.
Stewart was regretful. “I’m sorry if I—”
“Forget it,” he said. His hand on her back, George subconsciously guided Stewart away from the house. “What is it?”
“I needed to talk to you off base,” she replied. “I’m worried that they know I’ve been snooping around.” By “they,” she meant National Security. Taylor waved her off.
“If NSA thought you were suspicious, they’d have booted you from Juno—you know that.” The Mars-Jupiter mission launched in just two weeks, and there was little chance of them canning her at this point.
“George,” Stewart leaned in close. “Your father’s staying on base for Juno.”
“So?”
Stewart unfolded a piece of paper from her jacket. On it was the admiral’s itinerary—most likely she had gotten it from some clerk that “liked” her.
“So,” she explained, “while Robert and I are headed for Mars, he’s going to be inspecting the facilities, catching up on all projects. That includes—”
Taylor shushed her. He knew what she was driving at.
Churchdoor.
Standing on her toes, Stewart grabbed his unfurled tie and yanked him closer. Purposefully, she began to craft a perfect knot. Quietly, Taylor responded.
“I’m not going to ask him—”
“Who said anything about asking?” Stewart posed. She looped the wide end under the small one. “You know he’s going to keep files in his office.” Maryann pulled the wide of the tie across the small to the right. Taylor grabbed her arm and gritted his teeth.
“You realize what you’re asking me to do?”
She stopped and stared at him. His time at home was a desert, her blue eyes were oases.
“You need to know just as much as I do, George,” she said. “What if ANSA is adapting weapons that could destroy us all?” Looking back to the tie, Stewart frowned. She pushed the fabric up into the neck loop and down through. “You know the implications of putting nuclear missiles in orbit.”
“There’s an international ban on—”
“Do you think that would stop the government?” She slid the knot up to adjust it just right. “Do you think it would stop your father?”
His tie perfect, Taylor said nothing.
* * *
“Where’s your mother?”
Joey stared at him blankly. Taylor had come back into the house to find the toddler at the TV again and the baby still crying in her crib. The volume was too high. Cartoon ducks and rabbits blared.
He found his wife in the bathroom, the door ajar. He pushed it wide.
Gillian was crying and her makeup was streaking. No matter how she tried to fix it, it would run anew. As Taylor came up behind her, she dropped the eyeliner in the sink, and she spat at his reflection.
“That’s the Stewart you work with?”
Taylor tried to wave her off. “This again?”
“Don’t give me any bullshit, George. I know how you are with women—you’ve always got to have some conquest going, or you just don’t feel man enough. Isn’t that right?” Her eyes flashed with anger.
“Wait just a damn—”
Gillian cut him off. “You never told me that Stewart from work was a ‘she.’”
“It didn’t occur to me,” he lied. “She’s just another astronaut.”
“How many more women astronauts are there?”
“Gillian…” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she shrugged him off.
“You’re only home for one week—one week—and she’s got to come here? Can’t stand to be away from each other for even seven days? It’s Christmas Eve, for God’s sake!”
“It’s not like that—”
“Get out!”
“Okay.” Taylor boiled over. “I don’t need this. This is supposed to be my vacation, too.” He stormed out and moved through the house, packing his things. “You don’t do anything when I’m gone, Joey’s watching TV all day long—” The baby wailed —“and when are you going to change Tammy’s diaper?”
Gillian threw the bathroom door wide.
“I don’t care when your next pass is,” she raged. “Go spend it with her!”
Taylor was already out the front door.
* * *
“Don’t want… hurt you!” Tay-Lor gritted. The rabid human hurled himself from the teacup, dropping down toward Mungwortt. The two of them crashed and skidded across the slick catwalk, slamming into a rail—the only thing that kept them from sliding off the side and into the waterfall. Water sprayed their faces and trickled down Tay-Lor’s nose.
His head buzzing, Mungwortt had had enough. He liked this human a lot, but the beast kept hitting him. Whatever he said, he did the opposite.
Is he talking in code?
“Mind… control!” Taylor said, pinning him to the rail.
This human isn’t right in the head, Mungwortt decided. Desperate for a weapon, the ape stole a glance to the right. On the catwalk, a few feet away, lay the head of his old friend. Beyond Zao, at the end of the catwalk, stood six men. Three of them were from the library.
The ones who didn’t talk.
The ones who thought their words into his head.
Mutants, Tay-Lor had called them.
Flanked by two guards, the fat one was accompanied by a bespectacled human in a green vest. The newcomer glared at Mungwortt and Tay-Lor, but with his eyes shut.
The buzzing grew louder.
Caspay. Mungwortt suddenly knew tha
t was his name. Caspay was pushing into his mind—trying to fill him up with thoughts that were not his own. Trying to make me angry!
The bespectacled one had already gotten into his new friend’s head. Tay-Lor was going to kill Mungwortt.
Kill him first.
Mungwortt knew what had to be done. As Tay-Lor squeezed his hands around his throat, the ape saw his chance. Slamming his fists down, he jabbed at Tay-Lor’s ribs. The human let go. Buckled over.
Vulnerable. An easy kill.
“Help me, Zao!” he stammered. Gasping for air, Mungwortt snatched the skull and raised it over his head. He threw it. The fat man ducked, and Caspay was out of range. Zao thwacked the nearest guard in the head, causing the mutant to tumble over the catwalk. His screams evaporated in the seething waters below. Zao went with him.
No!
Concentration broken, Caspay peered down after the fallen guard. The unconscious mutant man bobbed back to the surface, swiftly flowing down the river before being gobbled up by the tumult. Distracted, the fat man and the others watched him disappear.
Zao’s skull hadn’t fared as well. Dashed on the rocks below, his many pieces disintegrated in the rapids. Quickly, Mungwortt looked to Tay-Lor. Free of the mutant’s control, the human shook his head.
“They’re trying to make me kill you,” he mumbled.
“It’s okay,” the ape exclaimed, “Zao saved us!”
“Get the hell out of here!” Tay-Lor said.
“But,” Mungwortt declared, “we make a good team!” He glanced around the catwalk, eager to find some twigs. There were none. He would have to explain without visual aids, and hope that Tay-Lor was smart enough to get it. “Together, apes and humans stro—”
The human shoved. Mungwortt upended over the rail, crashing into the torrent and plummeting to the rapids below.
* * *
The river was their only escape. Taylor watched as the waves washed the gorilla into the tunnels below. He wasn’t sure if Mungwortt had survived the plunge and current, but it was the best alternative to staying here. Seizing the catwalk rail, he tensed to leap after him.
Deet.
Coiled like a spring, Taylor didn’t jump.
Death of the Planet of the Apes Page 25
