“Now, wait a minute, Galen,” said Burke. “Just because—”
“Wait a minute, yourself,” said Virdon suddenly. Both Burke and Galen turned, waiting for him to continue. He didn’t. After a moment, Burke sighed.
“A guy doesn’t have to be a mind reader to know what you’re thinking,” he said.
“Maybe we can help,” said Virdon.
Pete Burke turned to Galen with an expression of mock anguish on his face. “Will you tell this guy that it makes zero sense to try to bust into a plague village?”
Galen nodded in agreement. “If we could get in, what good would it do?”
Virdon thought for a moment. The strength of his original impulse weakened a little as he realized that Galen and Burke had a valid point. “I don’t know,” he said. “What if we were the ones who started it, carrying in some virus that was harmless to us, but ended up being murderous to them?”
“That kind of reasoning is typically human,” said Galen.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Burke.
“Only that even if what Virdon says is true, there still is no logical reason for returning to Trion. Isn’t it just as possible that you’d catch the fever if you went back there?”
Burke lost some of his defensiveness. Once again, the chimpanzee had struck right to the sensible heart of the matter. “Yes, you’re right,” said Burke. “Of course it is. That is, if somebody doesn’t shoot us for trying to get in, in the first place.” The dark haired man looked at Virdon. “Of all the goofed-up ideas, this particular one takes the platinum cake knife.”
“Pete,” said Virdon, “don’t you think we should at least try to help?”
Burke chewed his lip for a few seconds. “Did I say I didn’t think that? Come on.” He took a few steps across the clearing, back in the direction they had come the previous day.
“Just a minute.” Galen’s voice stopped Burke and Virdon in their tracks.
“What is it, Galen?” asked Burke. “Are we acting typically human again? Or are we acting not typically human, and you want to know why?”
“Were you planning to include me in this trip back to Trion?” Galen ignored Burke’s pointed comments.
Burke looked at Virdon, unwilling to make any reply.
“I assumed we’d stay together,” said Virdon uncertainly.
Galen walked slowly toward them, gesturing as he spoke as though he were lecturing a particularly difficult pupil. “We went through this only last night,” said the chimpanzee. “Just because the girl reminds you of your daughter is no reason that I should run the risk of going back.”
“No, no reason,” said Virdon glumly.
“I just wanted to be sure that you understood that fact,” said Galen. “You can appreciate my position. In the first place, the young human girl has no emotional attachment for me at all. Indeed, the entire human settlement means little to me, in other than the merest intellectual ways.”
“Sure, Galen,” said Burke. “But we’d do the same—” The Chimpanzee cut off Burke’s words with a sharp gesture.
“And, further,” said Galen, “you see that there is actually little reason for you two to go, either.”
“No,” said Virdon.
Galen cocked his gruff simian head to one side and stared into Virdon’s eyes. “But yet, you stubbornly insist upon returning.”
Virdon looked at Burke. Burke shrugged, but did not say a word. After a moment, both men nodded.
Galen looked up into the clear sky. He spoke as if to some great watchful being above them. “I’m getting to be no better than a human!” he said. “All right, let’s go.”
Virdon and Burke grinned at each other. Burke slapped Galen’s shoulder, a motion of gratitude and comradeship that Galen did not understand for a moment. Virdon was on the point of explaining it, but then he just shook his head and turned away. The three started the long walk back to Trion.
In the village, there was already more activity than the humans had ever seen. Unfortunately, everyone was too involved with the sudden epidemic to appreciate the attention they had drawn from their ape masters. Nearly every human was either sick or tending to the helpless victims. No one watched the gorilla forces that were enforcing the quarantine. There was no time to think about Trion’s future, as far as the relative freedom of the humans was concerned. The fever occupied everyone’s thoughts, and the gorillas went about their business virtually unobserved.
General Urko and his armed gorillas had surrounded the village in full force. Urko rode on his horse all along the village’s perimeter, giving orders, stationing his forces to their best advantage. His headquarters, set up well away from the town, fitted Urko’s rough style, being little more than a large tent that served as his command post.
Within the village, men, women, and children alike were in terror. They had no idea of what was striking them down. There was nothing to fight, nothing that they could see, nothing that they could grasp hold of. Grown men shrank in fear from the corpses of the dead around them. Children, crying, found no one to soothe their panic. The people of Trion huddled near their homes, terrified.
Some, though, continued to do their best to help the poor people who were striken by the unknown disease. Amy Talbert tended to a dying old woman, putting wet cloths on her face and arms. Amy, knowing that it did no good, barely eased the woman’s pain. The woman would die and Amy would nurse another person. The girl wondered how much longer she could continue, until she broke from the growing hysteria within her. Or until she was claimed by the sickness herself.
On the edge of Trion, Neesa, the gorilla guard, was tired and agitated by the unusual activity in the village. He did not like the nearby presence of General Urko. Before the epidemic, Neesa and his comrades lived under a relaxed discipline. Now times were harsher for the gorillas, as well as for the humans.
Neesa heard a sound behind him. He turned, half expecting to see the guard who was due to relieve him. Instead, he saw Galen, Virdon, and Burke. He was startled to see them step out of the forest area beyond the fields. As they approached, he called to them. “What are you doing back here?” he asked. “Haven’t you heard? There’s fever.”
“We are somewhat familiar with this problem,” said Galen smoothly. “We would like to go in and help.”
Neesa sneered. “The council has sent the Chief Physician. So turn around and go back where you came from.”
Virdon stepped forward, not willing to be so easily blocked by this infuriating obstacle. He wanted to be reasonable, but he knew that reason was a quality totally foreign to Neesa and his kind. “Look,” said the man, “we just want to—”
Virdon was stopped short by Neesa’s rifle which the gorilla pointed squarely at his chest. “I have orders to kill anyone who tries to cross the quarantine line.”
Burke pushed his way forward. “Look,” he said angrily, “I’m not going to take anything from some refugee from the Bronx Zoo.”
Galen made a grunting noise; Virdon, fearful of what Burke’s words and actions might cause Neesa to do, grabbed his friend by the arm. “Wait a minute,” said Virdon. “That kind of thing isn’t going to get us anywhere. Perhaps the guard is right. After all, he’s only following his orders.”
“Yes,” said Neesa, with a warning edge to his voice, “now go.”
“We seem to have no choice,” said Galen. The three adventurers walked back the way they had come.
Northeast of Trion was a small area of wooded growth, where, earlier, Virdon and Amy had walked. The forest area gradually merged with a wet marshy region. The three moved through the tangled vegetation for a few minutes. Water was standing over the ground, still and stagnant. There was no motion anywhere, nothing to be heard but the buzzing and ticking of insects. After a short while they stopped and looked back. Neesa, who had been watching them, had grown bored and had continued his slow rounds. Burke pointed, and the other two followed him, returning to the village the long way around through the marshy ar
ea.
The splashing noises they made wading through the brackish water went unheard by the gorilla guards, who were too concerned with their own business to post sentries that far from the village. All at once Burke stopped. He held up his hand, signalling the others not to move. Before them was a large pool, somewhat deeper than the water they had been walking through. The pool was thick and ugly, and the breeding ground for mosquitoes. Burke studied the area, then suddenly slapped at mosquitoes buzzing near him. He turned to Virdon, pulling his friend and Galen back.
“Stagnant water and mosquitoes,” said Burke. “What does that make you think of?”
The two men and the chimpanzee moved quickly away from the place. Galen did not understand what Burke meant; he followed curiously, turning often to throw puzzled glances at the pool.
After some time, and frequent detours around more stagnant pools, the three travelers came out into one of the outlying farms of the village. They stood on the edge of the field and watched carefully. There did not seem to be any gorilla forces nearby. They started forward again, crossing the open field cautiously. When they reached the hut area, they stopped short, stunned.
Never before had Burke or Virdon, or Galen for that matter, seen such desolation and hopelessness. The entire village had been reduced to a mass of frightened, sick people, helpless to save themselves from the strange curse that had attacked them. As Virdon, Burke, and Galen walked along the main street, they saw only terrified people, huddled together, with sick and dying people lying unattended among them. The bodies of the corpses remained where they had fallen; the survivors were too afraid to move them.
They walked through the center of the village. One of the sick men saw them and struggled to raise himself up on one elbow. His face was streaked with sweat and dirt, and his hand shook as he reached out toward them. His pained cry was the sound of a dying animal. He tried to wave, but could not control his movements; he ended up clawing the air in an attitude of desperate supplication. The sight tore at the hearts of Virdon and Burke, and even Galen was moved to pity. Virdon and Burke stopped and knelt by the man, examining him.
“Help . . . me. . . .” whispered the man in a hoarse croaking voice.
Virdon tried to make the man lie down, but the hopeless man clung to Virdon’s arms. He had little strength left, and Virdon forced him down; after a brief struggle, the man heaved a thick, rattling sigh and fell back to the ground, his body convulsing and his eyes staring unfocused before him. Virdon looked up at Burke. “You read it like I do?” he asked.
“Malaria,” said Burke sadly.
Standing up, Virdon surveyed the village. It was a scene from some demented painter’s vision of Hell. “God,” he whispered, “God, what do we do now?”
A few huts away, Amy Talbert came through a door. Stopping in the hot sun, she wiped the sweat from her forehead. She looked around, trying to decide where she could be of use. Suddenly seeing her three friends, she rubbed her eyes. “Virdon!” she cried.
At the sound of her voice, Virdon, Burke, and Galen turned. Stumbling toward them, she stopped, exhausted; her face suddenly lost the expression of hope it had carried, and her features went slack. Virdon ran to her quickly, caught her by her shoulders before she fell, and studied her face.
“My father,” she said slowly, “my father is . . . dead . . .”
Virdon felt a moment of wrenching emotion. At first he did not know what to say. “Amy,” he said at last, as gently as he could, “I’m so sorry.” But even that sounded inadequate to him.
Burke joined them. Together, he and Virdon helped Amy over to the shade of one of the huts. “Amy,” said Burke, “how do you feel?”
Amy tried to speak, but her throat was so dry that she couldn’t make the words come out. She swallowed hard and tried again. “I’m . . . tired,” she said, “but I’m not . . . sick . . . ”
Virdon looked at the girl for a few seconds. He ran his hand through his hair. Things had to be done, but the measures that he could advise would be so pitifully ineffective without the proper medications. Still, a start had to be made, or else the situation would only deteriorate that much more quickly. And the situation would then be not just desperate. It would be final.
Virdon moved to the center of the village’s meeting area. “Listen to me,” he called. “All of you. If you can, come here and listen.”
A cluster of frightened people stared at him from the small scrap of shade next to a hut. They were uncertain: in their weakened condition, with sickness raging in their bodies, with the haunting memories of family and friends dying before their eyes, they did not know whom or what to trust.
Virdon turned his attention to another group, hanging back by another hut. Like the first group, they did not seem anxious to put their faith in this stranger, even though they had gotten to know him well in his stay in their village. There had been no such plague before the arrival of the three fugitives.
Something had to be done. Virdon realized that he was getting nowhere. “Please,” he said, “time is against us. We’ve got to act quickly.”
A few of the people, not as hopelessly ill as the others, caught the note of hope in Virdon’s voice. They had learned from experience that to do nothing would lead surely and quickly to death. Virdon promised action which might mean life. They moved slowly and painfully toward him.
Following the first group, another group decided that Virdon was their best hope in their desperate situation. They moved away from the side of their hut and walked slowly across the hard-baked dirt toward the astronaut.
Anyone who could still walk or help another person gathered in the meeting area. They clustered about Virdon as though he brought news of their salvation. They had put their last hope in Virdon, and the blond realizing just how much he had promised with his encouraging words, wondered if he could possibly deliver on that promise.
“We must bury the dead,” he said. “Immediately. You can’t realize how important that is. If we don’t, well be fighting the fever, and complications, and worse.”
His words were interrupted briely by the sound of hoofbeats, rapidly approaching the village along the road. The crowd of people turned away from Virdon to look; no one was yet in sight. Virdon spoke out again, to regain his audience’s attention. “A treatment center must be set up,” he urged.
Chief Medical Officer Zoran, rode into the village, followed by his assistant, Inta. They stopped their horses and dismounted, and hurried to where Virdon was standing. Virdon tried to continue. “Work teams must be organized,” he said.
“Silence!” commanded Zoran.
Virdon stopped. All eyes, those in the crowd and those of Virdon, Burke, and Galen as well, turned to Zoran and Inta. The two chimpanzees studied Virdon closely.
“You seem to be a leader here,” said Zoran curiously. “I wonder how General Urko would feel if he knew that a human was attempting to organize the other workers.”
“I am no leader,” said Virdon hastily. “What I said just makes good sense.”
“Who are you?” asked Zoran.
“Just a . . . man, trying to help his fellow men,” said Virdon cautiously.
“I am Zoran, Chief Medical Officer of the Supreme Council. This is my assistant, Inta. I have come to assume full authority here now.”
Burke, Amy, and Galen moved forward to stand beside Virdon. Neither Zoran nor Inta paid the humans or their chimpanzee friend any attention. Zoran walked slowly across the street to examine one of the helplessly sick men who was lying in the middle of the road, too weak to move himself out of the way of whatever traffic might happen by.
Burke held Virdon’s arm, stopping his friend from following too closely. “What are you going to do?” asked Burke.
“It’s obvious that the apes have no idea what malaria really means,” said Virdon. “They don’t know what causes it, they don’t know how to cure it.”
Burke looked worried. “We have to be careful here,” he said. “We can’t loo
k like we have all the answers. The apes won’t like that at all. Still, we have to do what we can. I don’t have an answer. Do you?”
Virdon shrugged. He hurried after Zoran, assuming a deferential attitude. “We’re very glad to see you,” he said. “Perhaps we can work together.”
Zoran gave Virdon a dubious look. “I can very well understand how you might want to work with me. After all, that would certainly increase your status among your fellow laborers, wouldn’t it? But why in the world would I want to work with you?”
“He has a point,” said Galen. Burke only gave their chimpanzee friend a warning look.
Zoran finished his examination of the dying man, then stood up, brushing his gauntleted hands together and nodding confidently.
“A pit will be dug at once,” said the Medical Officer. “It will be filled with water. I will add certain medications—ground nuts and roots, and specific natural chemicals. You will all disrobe and immerse yourselves. Then each of you will have an incision made on your upper arm, and you will be carefully bled—the amount depending of course on your size and age. There will be no physical contact among you until I have this disease under control.” Zoran turned to speak directly to Virdon. “You,” said the chimpanzee, “with the evident talent for organizing. You will supervise the digging of the pit.”
Virdon was stunned, left speechless by the inanity of Zoran’s prescription. He stood unable to respond. He just stared in disbelief. Burke stepped forward angrily. “Look, Doc,” he said through clenched teeth, “you’re whistling Dixie!”
Now it was Zoran’s turn to stare in shocked amazement. When he spoke, it was first with bewilderment, then annoyance. “I’m whistling? I . . . will . . . speak . . . clearly. Do you still hear whistling? Is there some structural malfunction in your ears?”
Galen sensed that the two humans were putting themselves in a position that could easily lead to trouble. It was another case of the astronauts’ ignorance of the way things worked in this world, their refusal to accept the natural order of life, the perfectly reasonable superiority of apes over men. Galen took a deep breath; he was well-known in his own society, a fugitive. He hoped that Zoran would not recognize him. He had never had any conversations with the Chief Medical Officer before, and there was no reason to think that there would be any risk now. But Galen knew, perhaps in a way that Virdon and Burke never could, that every situation they found themselves in held its own latent dangers. “What he is suggesting, sir,” he said, in a reassuring manner, “is that this . . . particular . . . disease, with which he is familiar, demands special treatment.”
Planet of the Apes 01 - Man the Fugitive Page 3
