by Maurice
In three directions we were caged in by humans. Rocket took his band in the fourth direction, where the cold winds come from. He found mountains, and beyond them the trees grew smaller. He saw human roads, but no humans.
It was a terrible blow. Caesar had hoped the forest continued in that direction, becoming deeper, farther from the human settlements. He hoped to travel to a place where there were no humans at all. But the more he learned, that seemed less and less likely. The forest, which had once seemed so large, was starting to feel smaller and smaller.
But Rocket brought other news. He had found some fruit. Caesar joined his band with Rocket’s, and the older ape led them to a pile of fruit. Fruit of every sort. Bananas, durian, mangosteens, apples—anything an ape could desire.
When we went into the forest, many of us did not know where fruit came from. The humans always just brought it to us when we were in cages. But from Cornelia and Furaha and others, we now knew it was supposed to grow on trees and bushes. If it was in a pile like this, on the ground, it must have been put there by humans. This was made even clearer by the presence of several empty bags the humans must have carried the fruit in.
Caesar restrained the apes from going to it. He wanted to understand what was happening. Why were the humans giving them food?
But the answer to that was simple. To draw the apes here. It had to be a trap.
But there was no sign of humans. He noticed that some of the fruit had been eaten, and Rocket admitted that his band had gone down there, unable to resist the sight and smell of such rich food. Nothing had happened to them. Maybe something had gone wrong with the human plan. Maybe apes should take the fruit anyway.
Koba was also suspicious. He asked to scout the pile. And when he did, Koba found something—a small machine. Koba destroyed it.
Shows us little, he explained. He meant that it was the kind of machine that put moving pictures in boxes far away. The shelter had had many of these seeing machines, as had Gen-Sys, so Caesar understood. It meant that if Caesar had gone down there before Koba destroyed the machine, humans would have seen him.
Yet they must have seen Rocket and his band, and nothing had happened.
Caesar knew he must be missing something. He went down to the fruit and picked through it, examined it closely. And he discovered a small rectangle hidden in the food—no longer than your thumb. It reminded him of the little rectangle Will used to open the door of his car from far away. Then Caesar understood.
The humans wanted him to take the fruit with the hidden machines. Not so they could catch his band here and now, but so he would take the fruit back to my band, the largest. He thought that the rectangles could tell the humans where they had been taken. And so, if they took all the little machines from the fruit, it would be safe.
They sorted through all of it, until Caesar was satisfied they had found all of the rectangles. Then he put them into one of the bags the fruit had been in.
Take as much as you can carry back to Maurice’s band, he told them. Then come back and get the rest.
He put Koba in charge of his band, which pleased Koba; it showed him that Caesar trusted him after all. And indeed, Caesar saw Koba as an ape who could be very useful to the troop, if properly guided.
Caesar took the bag of little machines in his own hands and set off, alone, through the forest, away from the rest of us. He took them as far west as he could, where the forest gave way to low scrub, and finally to steep hills overlooking the sea. There he waited, in the underbrush, until a truck came by. Then he tossed the bag of rectangles into the back of it.
He was starting to return when another car arrived, this one full of men with guns. He hid less than a stone’s throw away as they got out and began looking around. He could hear them talking, and there could be no doubt his plan had worked. The little machines somehow talked to the humans and told them where they were. If apes had returned with the fruit, without ridding it of the devices, the humans would now know where they were hiding. If he hadn’t thrown it in the back of the truck, they would have known where Caesar was.
He kept very still. He listened. Finally, as he hoped, the humans got back in their car and followed the truck he had tossed the machines into. His trick had worked. But he knew it wouldn’t work again.
Listening to them, he had learned something, something important. He told me about it when he returned to us.
Back in the City, humans were dying from some kind of disease. And they blamed the disease on apes. They said apes brought the disease.
Maybe if enough of them died, the humans would forget about us.
The Meeting with Hunters
Caesar’s trick didn’t keep us safe for long, but at least we got to fill our bellies. It was Jojo, one of Rocket’s scouts, who saw the hunters first. Many of them, walking toward the troop, spread out in a long line. When Caesar saw them, he knew they couldn’t fail to find my band. He put Koba in the high canopy to keep lookout for helicopters, and then he and Rocket tried their old tactic; showing themselves to the humans and then leading them off in the wrong direction.
At first it seemed to be working. But Koba, high in the trees, spied helicopters flying straight for the troop. He hastened to tell Caesar.
A few of the humans had followed Caesar’s band and Rocket’s, but most were continuing toward the troop. They had somehow figured out where we were, and this time they had used Caesar’s own tactics against him. They had tricked Caesar into drawing his warriors away from our defense.
Caesar saw the flying machines hovering over our position. Most of the hunters on the ground were also going that way. In moments, they would reach us.
Caesar had been hoping to avert another battle. Too many had already died, killed on the Orange Bridge. He had only wanted to evade the humans long enough for them to decide it wasn’t worth finding him. But now it seemed that apes would have to fight again. And with all those helicopters and so many humans with guns, he feared this time we did not have a chance.
But then, suddenly, the flying machines turned and flew away. He didn’t know why. He knew it could be another trick. But without the machines, Caesar believed we had a possibility of survival. And that we could still do it without fighting.
Caesar’s warriors surrounded the hunters, pelting them with sticks, hooting and calling. The humans didn’t seem to know what to do; they clustered together with their guns, but each moment more apes arrived. They were in the trees, except for the gorillas, which lumbered toward them menacingly. Caesar’s plan was to show them we could kill them, but that we would not.
But one of the men suddenly fired his gun, and Rocket fell from his perch. Before anything else could happen, Koba was there, knocking the human with the gun away, rising over him.
Everything was quiet for a moment. Caesar was sure Koba would kill the hunter, and all would be lost.
Instead, Koba looked at each of the humans defiantly. Then he picked up Rocket and climbed back up into the trees with him.
After that, all the apes there began screaming, calling, hooting at the tops of their lungs.
It was enough for the humans. Without their flying machines and the death they could rain down, we were too much for them. They might shoot some of us before being overwhelmed, but we would win and they knew it. They retreated, and at Caesar’s command we made way to let them out, unharmed.
We never learned why the flying machines left. Caesar and I believed that the humans must have been divided, at war with themselves. That was good for us. If the helicopters had remained, it may well be that our story would have ended that day.
About Koba
After that for a time it was quiet. Too quiet.
Caesar kept us busy. We learned to make spears from small trees, grinding them to a point with stones. Caesar hoped we would not have to use them as weapons, but only to intimidate. We were getting stronger; most of our wounded who were going to die had, and the others were recovering. Rocket hadn’t been shot afte
r all, but had lost his footing when the gun fired. We poked fun at him about this, called him Three Legs. He wasn’t hurt badly, but he couldn’t lead his band.
Caesar put Koba in charge of Rocket’s band.
Here I want to talk about Koba.
He suffered much at the hands of humans. More than most. When he was little, he was with his mother in a place where apes were taught to sign. Like many apes who sign, he did not think of other apes as being like him. In fact, he thought of himself and his mother as being more like the human who trained them. In this, he shared something with Caesar. Koba called the non-signing chimps “black caterpillars” and did not understand they were like him.
This is common in language apes. They think other apes—apes who cannot talk—are just animals.
Koba’s mother was killed by a human; Koba never understood why. After that he was taken and trained to entertain humans, as I was, through pain and intimidation. Finally, he became a lab ape, to be cut open, sewn back together, and cut open again. His eyes were forced wide, so they could be stung with spray and drops. He tried to sign to the humans around him that he was not an animal, that he could sign and talk, but over time despair and then anger came to dominate him. By the time Caesar freed him, he had little but killing on his mind.
But now I could see the pride in Koba; I felt that his anger was still there, but that he was discovering something more important, something he had never had, at least not for more than the briefest of moments. Belonging. Family.
I once snapped at Koba because he called the zoo apes “black caterpillars.” I told him that we were all apes, all together. It was like watching a new life come into the world as he grasped that idea. How believing the other apes to be inferior made him like a human. And Koba did not want to be like a human.
During the confrontation with the hunters, Koba proved his loyalty to Caesar—and to the apes—was greater than his hatred of humans. It was a good sign.
The Day and Night of Flame
We began to hope the peace would last, but eventually the humans did come back. There were more of them than ever. They were trying to form a ring around us, to surround us. Helicopters were traveling just above the humans, making this easy to see. One part of the circle was closer to us, so it seemed natural to run the other way.
Caesar didn’t think we should, though. He said if we pushed toward the farthest edge, the humans would have time to close around us like a noose. He thought we should try to get through the nearest of our enemies, so the ones behind wouldn’t have time to reach us.
Caesar told Koba to pick gorillas and a few chimps to go through the nearest human line. He told him to pick only apes who were willing to die. Koba understood.
When he returned, Koba said he would lead them into battle. Caesar said no, that Koba would stay with him. But Koba was proud and told Caesar he was willing to die, like the apes he chose. He would die for other apes.
Can Koba think of plan first, Koba second? Caesar asked him.
Koba said that he could.
Koba led them, barely more than two hands of apes, against the human army. His job was to make the humans think this was where the apes were trying to make their escape, while Caesar led the rest another way.
As they approached the human army, Koba saw fog, and thought that was good. Fog had been their friend in the past. Fog hid them as they moved through the trees. But this fog stung their eyes and made it hard to breathe. Koba saw the fog was coming from the helicopters above him, and now he knew something that Caesar did not know. Wherever the apes tried to break through the circle, this fog would push them back, until they all stood in one place, surrounded by humans and their guns and machines.
He sent Roy—one of the chimps—to warn Caesar. Then he led the rest into the burning mist. But he kept Caesar’s orders; he did not attack the humans, even as their bullets began to take their toll. He heard more and more of them coming toward his position. That was what Caesar wanted. What apes needed.
Caesar and the rest of us ran uphill, in the direction of the cold winds. The mist was there, but thin. The helicopters were moving off toward Koba and the apes under his command. Our way was clear. Or so we thought.
Some of the humans were waiting in ambush. They were hiding and let most of us pass before they began shooting the slowest, those in back, with the sleep-making darts. They got Herman, a gorilla, and five others. They nearly shot Cornelia, who was in the back helping the wounded. She managed to escape and run ahead to tell Caesar what had happened. He chose apes to go back with him, and Cornelia led him back to the place of the ambush.
What Caesar found there, he never fully understood. As he burst into the clearing where his apes lay drugged, he saw a human woman pointing a gun at a human man. His arrival startled her, and as she paused, the man pulled out his own gun and shot her.
There was another man, one he had seen before, in the forest. A man with something terrible in his eyes. Terrible Eyes killed the man who killed the woman. Everyone was shooting then, but none of them were shooting at apes. Terrible Eyes killed three more humans but was wounded himself. One man remained standing, but the woman wasn’t dead yet, and she shot him. Then she died.
“You have to stop the strike,” he heard her say, as the breath left her.
Only Terrible Eyes remained, and Caesar saw that he was dying, too. As he came closer, the man locked eyes with him.
“If you can understand me,” he said. “You need to get your troop out of here, and fast. There’s going to be fire, you understand? A lot of fire. I can give you a little time. Hurry.”
The man’s breath was slowing. His hard gaze softened a little.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Caesar wasn’t sure what he saw in the man’s expression. But he knew he and the woman had been trying to help the apes. He didn’t know why then, and he never learned. But it reminded him that not all humans were awful.
They gathered up our fallen, and they ran.
No one who lived through what happened next will ever forget it.
Oak was a zoo gorilla, and only seven when we escaped into the woods. He hadn’t inhaled the mist and wasn’t Changed like those of us from the shelter. But even now he remembers. He told me his story in sign.
The Red Flowers: Oak’s Tale
I never knew my mother or my father. I was in care of Kumang, orangutan woman. When the great rush started, she carried me. I remember flying through treetops, feeling the wind. It was fun.
I hung on to her belly, my arms closed behind her back, so I saw behind us, and I noticed a funny thing. I thought it might be dragonfly, from the shape of it, way the sun gleamed on it. I still remember that even in my turmoil, confusion. It made me feel peaceful.
And when happened, I thought it was beautiful. The tops of the trees bloomed, like huge red and yellow flowers. I almost lost my hold, it was so wonderful.
But then heat came. Smell of burning. Shrieks of apes who weren’t dumb, like I was, who knew better.
The Fire: Rocket’s Tale
We talked about fire. When Caesar asked Maurice the easiest way to catch apes, Maurice told him “get rid of the trees.” But Caesar said the trees are special to humans, too. That they would never burn them.
We don’t know how desperate to be rid of us they were. And if the silver fish in the sky had come a little nearer, we would be dead. Caesar said he thought the man who warned him did something so the fire was not in the right place.
But it was close enough. Caesar led us to water, but it wasn’t deep enough. Caesar and Cornelia were trying to drag Herman out of danger when they were all engulfed in flame.
I felt so useless, with my hurt leg. They were so far from me, I knew I could never get there in time. They were probably dead already. I started that way, knowing it would be useless.
But then I saw an ape dragging Caesar from the smoke, and others pulling Cornelia, Herman, more of the wounded.
It was Koba, and wha
t remained of the apes under his command. His fur was singed and smoking. It was Koba who saved Caesar that day, and your mother as well. It was easy to remember Koba’s faults. But without him, you would never have been born.
Caesar was still breathing, but he lay as if one dead. Rocket, Koba, and I did what we thought best. We took the troop into the wind, so that the fire was traveling away from us. We continued until the smoke was no longer stifling, and the cool of the night air mixed with it. The birds and animals were still strangely silent, and clouds mingled with the low clouds that came in from the sea to hide the sun.
I was shaken. I had never seen the full might of what human weapons could do. None of us had. Was the strange flying machine still out there, ready to bring fire down on us yet again? We didn’t know. All we could do was send out scouts and set guards.
Toward evening, Caesar revived. Koba had never left his side.
Koba brought himself back, Koba signed. Brought back two others, only. Koba is sorry if he failed.
Caesar rose to his feet and embraced Koba.
Koba did good, he said. You are my brother, Koba. We are all of us family.
The fire, vast as it was, did not thrive as the night wore on; it began to fail, and if it did not retreat, at least it did not gain ground.
Our scouts returned with even better news.
The humans were leaving.
It might be another trick, Rocket said.
Might be, Caesar said. Maybe they think they killed us all. Maybe they don’t care anymore. But even if this gains us only another day, we’ll survive. We will remain free.
In the dark, we climbed one of the tallest trees. The fire was still burning in the forest. But off in the City, we could see the light was different. Not the steady glow of the lights as we remembered, but flickering and red.
