by Jim Beard
“What is there?”
Frowning, the prefect replied, “Nothing, mostly, though there are some areas that hold ancient ruins.”
“Ruins.” Urko repeated the word. “Of course. Virdon and Burke would want to go there.” It would be consistent with their previous actions, in which they seemed to always be moving with direction and purpose. The High Council seemed convinced of this as well, with its most senior member, Zaius, believing that the astronauts were driven by the hope of somehow finding a means of returning to the distant time period from which they had come.
A time before humans destroyed their own society, Urko reminded himself. A time before apes gained their freedom and ascended to their rightful place as rulers of this world.
Zaius also had explained to Urko the true risk Virdon and Burke represented. As much damage as they might do here in the present, perhaps, by inspiring the humans of this era toward rebellion, it was in the past that the astronauts posed the greatest threat. Should they successfully return to their own time, they might well be able to affect the course of history by preventing the catastrophe that had doomed human civilization and allowed the emergence of apes as the dominant species on this planet. Urko did not entirely understand how such a dramatic change could happen, but it still was sufficient justification to do what he knew must be done: kill Virdon and Burke, by any means necessary.
And now, the astronauts were once more within his grasp.
The hunt begins again.
* * *
“Well, would you look at that.”
Standing on a rise overlooking the expanse of terrain before them, Alan Virdon shielded his eyes with one hand as he took in the scene. The area was littered with rock formations, ruts, and rolling hills sprinkled with trees and other vegetation, but there could be no mistaking the sharp angles of rusted, twisted metal jutting out from mountains of broken concrete and dirt.
“It’s way too small to be a city,” said Peter Burke, Virdon’s friend and fellow astronaut. He stood close to the edge of the slope leading down to the open expanse. “Any ideas?”
Virdon shook his head. “Could be anything.” He pointed to what he thought might be sections of deteriorated chain-link fencing, as well as what looked to be remnants of massive metal scaffolding. Farther away were the broken, dilapidated ruins of more than a dozen small, squat buildings. “Maybe a construction site or an oil field?”
Galen, their chimpanzee companion, said, “Prefect Gaulke told me that no one from the village ever ventures down there. There are a number of stories about strange noises and visions, but they sound to me like stories to scare children.” Galen sniffed the air. “I don’t mind telling you I’m not getting a very good feeling about this.”
Burke said, “Hard to believe nobody’s ever checked out the place. You’d think it’d be ripe for scavenging metal or whatever else.”
Shifting his canvas backpack to a more comfortable position on his shoulders, Virdon replied, “That might be a good thing for us, particularly if the apes tend to avoid this area.”
Even after all these months, there were rare times when the reality of what he and Burke faced every day still bordered on the unimaginable. Such occasions were far outnumbered by those laced with grudging acceptance of their situation: propelled centuries into their own future and returning to Earth only to find human civilization all but obliterated, with a society of simians having risen to take its place. Since then, Virdon and Burke, along with Galen, the young, idealistic chimpanzee whom they had befriended, pursued a clear-cut goal: evading capture by the likes of Urko and his ape police garrisons, while searching for a way back to their own time. It was a formidable goal, given that Urko, as well as Chief Councilor Zaius and nearly every ape in any position of authority or influence, wanted them dead. Virdon knew they would never stop so long as he and Burke remained alive.
It’s nice to be wanted.
Choosing his steps with care, Virdon led the trio as they descended the slope. Once the ground ahead of them began to flatten out, he could see telltale signs of concrete beneath the dirt, thanks to bare patches where wind had cleared away the soil. In and among the scrub brush, he also noted pieces of rusted rebar and other metal. Rock and dirt still covered a significant portion of the area, leading the astronaut to wonder what had happened to so drastically alter the landscape.
“I don’t think Gaulke or the other villagers were totally honest with you, Galen,” said Burke as he maneuvered around a large mound of broken concrete.
Inspecting the remains of the deteriorated buildings and other structures turned up little of interest, though he could tell that the area had not been immune to the previous passage of humans or apes. Paths between piles of rubble and other detritus became evident as the fugitives continued their sweep.
“Some of this stuff looks picked over pretty good.” Virdon shrugged. “Makes sense. There’s a lot here to use, for someone who knows what they’re doing or just has a little imagination.”
Burke snorted. “So, basically nobody, then.”
It was hard for Virdon to take issue with his friend’s cynical remark. By and large, the humans they had encountered in their travels had seemed content to live out whatever meager existences the apes granted them, exercising little if any ambition or initiative. Only on rare occasions had they found someone dissatisfied with the status quo and who aspired to something greater than servitude. Such individuals tended to draw the attention and ire of their ape masters, and therefore endeavored to maintain low profiles.
“Alan. Pete. There’s something here I think you should see.”
Virdon turned to see Galen standing before what at first looked to be a section of exposed concrete, which was partially obscured by a ring of parched brush.
“There’s an edge here,” said the chimpanzee.
Kneeling next to the shallow rut in the soil where the concrete was exposed, Virdon brushed at the sand until his fingers moved across something large and smooth. “This is a metal hinge. Pretty big, too.”
Motivated by the odd discovery, the trio set to work. Within minutes, they had cleared an area several meters across. In the middle of the square of concrete was embedded a rusted metal hatch with a recessed wheel, a pair of hinges, and a separate handle running along one edge.
“What is it?” asked Galen.
Virdon ran his hand along the wheel. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s an escape hatch for an old nuclear missile silo.”
Frowning, the chimpanzee cocked his head. “A what?”
“A very large weapon, Galen,” replied Burke. “They were kept in special underground facilities we called silos, which were scattered all over the country. Other nations had similar missiles, and they protected them the same way.” He gestured around them. “Somewhere around here is probably another very large hatch, under which might still be whatever’s left of a missile.”
“Unless it was launched,” said Virdon. He paused, wondering how many such launches had taken place centuries ago, raining nuclear destruction down upon cities around the world and all but obliterating human civilization.
Burke nodded. “Yeah.”
Reaching for the wheel set into the hatch cover, Virdon was surprised when it turned with relative ease. In fact, he felt almost no resistance at all.
“How about that?” he asked. With Burke helping him, it was a simple matter to lift the door on its hinge until it swung all the way open and tilted back toward the ground. With that accomplished, Virdon looked into the hole which they had revealed, and saw the metal ladder descending into darkness.
“Notice anything, Pete?”
Stepping closer, Burke leaned forward so that he could look into the shaft. “It’s pretty clean for having been buried for a thousand years.”
“Exactly.” He waved toward the shrubs they had pulled up. “Maybe whoever marked this location has been inside the silo.”
“Seems like they’d have a pretty nice apartment,” sai
d Burke. “Assuming they’ve got a thing for bunkers in the middle of nowhere.”
Gesturing toward the shaft, Galen asked, “You’re not seriously thinking of climbing down into that thing, are you?”
Virdon smiled. “We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”
* * *
As expected, Virdon found a tunnel at the bottom of the shaft. How far down were they? Looking past Galen and Burke, who were still descending the ladder, he saw the small circle of light and estimated they were at least two hundred feet beneath the surface. Of greater interest were the recessed lighting panels positioned at regular intervals along the shaft, which seemed to activate in response to their movements on the ladder. As they moved downward, lights turned on below them, while the ones above eventually extinguished themselves.
“What do you think?” asked Burke once he stepped off the ladder and moved to stand next to Galen. “Solar power? Atomic batteries?” His voice echoed in the narrow conduit.
Virdon replied, “Beats me, but whoever built it knew what they were doing.” He gestured toward the circular passage ahead of them, which was small enough that they would have to traverse its length on hands and knees. “Let’s see where it goes.”
Fidgeting as he sniffed the air, Galen said, “I don’t know if I like this, Alan.”
“It’s okay.” Burke rested a hand on the chimpanzee’s shoulder. “Assuming this is a missile silo and the tunnel’s not blocked, it should lead to a larger room.”
No sooner did Virdon maneuver himself into the passage than another pair of lighting panels flickered to life. “See? We’ll be fine. Come on.”
“You’ve seen places like this before?” asked Galen as he followed Virdon.
“No, but I’ve read about them.” The astronaut ran his right hand along the smooth concrete wall. “Each silo had a single missile, and a crew would be down here to monitor its condition. If the order came to launch it, they were responsible for making sure the missile was fueled and launched toward its designated target. If what we came down was the escape hatch, this tunnel should take us to the main control room.” His fingers traced over one lighting panel’s translucent cover. “I don’t remember anything like these lights, though.”
“They must’ve done some fancy redecorating after we left,” offered Burke.
The end of the conduit, along with another circular hatch, was revealed when another pair of lighting panels activated. Though realizing he should not be surprised by this point, Virdon still grunted in mild astonishment when the hatch opened without difficulty. No sooner did he break the seal than he felt a rush of cool air playing across his skin, and light flickered through the narrow opening. He also heard the low thrum of… power? A generator?
Oh, my God.
“I wonder if anybody’s home,” said Burke from behind him.
Extracting himself from the tunnel, Virdon stood and got his first look at the larger room. Though unoccupied, the chamber still harbored signs of life, thanks to the interior lighting and the unmistakable sound of machinery operating somewhere in the underground complex. Control consoles and computer banks lined the circular room’s perimeter. All of the equipment was inert, though to Virdon it looked none the worse for wear for being perhaps a thousand years old. A quartet of inactive television monitors hung at different points around the room, angled toward the workstations and suspended by metal brackets from the concrete ceiling.
“What is this place?” Stepping around Virdon, Galen moved toward the consoles, his expression one of disbelief as he took in the room’s contents. He reached with a tentative hand to touch one of the dormant workstations, before pulling it back and turning to his friends. “It’s extraordinary! Do you know what these things are? What they do?”
Removing his backpack, Virdon placed it on a chair near one of the consoles. “Some of it, anyway.”
“There are a few pieces I don’t recognize,” said Burke, pointing to the row of computer banks along the wall. “Those look like more advanced versions of the equipment we had on the ship.”
“But how is it still working after all this time?” asked Galen.
Virdon nodded. “That’s a good question.” He ran his fingers along the edge of a keyboard at one computer terminal. “And it’s clean, too. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think someone’s here, or has been here.” He shifted his gaze to take in the rest of the room. “How has no one found this place before now? That just doesn’t make sense.”
“Look over here, Al.” Burke had crossed to the room’s far side, and now stood before the entrance to a larger tunnel. He gestured toward the passage. “Any guesses where that goes?”
“If this place is laid out the way most silo complexes were,” replied Virdon, “then probably to the main access point from the surface, and the silo itself.”
Like the control room, the tunnel leading deeper into the complex was clean, and Virdon noted that lights were now on throughout the underground chambers, rather than simply activating in response to their presence. As he guessed, the passage opened into a stairwell and elevator shaft, though there was no car in the shaft itself. The metal stairs seemed to be in good condition, ascending toward the surfaces and dropping deeper into the complex. On the room’s far side, the tunnel continued in a straight line before opening into a massive chamber: the silo.
“This is incredible,” said Virdon, looking up to see the pair of massive metal doors which covered the silo’s opening. At the bottom of the tower, black scorch marks were visible along the metal and concrete floor and the cradle in which a missile once had rested.
“Holy cow,” said Burke, shaking his head as he rested his forearms on the railing. “I know we’ve had a pretty good idea about what happened here after we left, but until now, there was a part of me that didn’t want it to be real.” Reaching up, he wiped his face. “So much for that.”
“Yeah.” Virdon had harbored similar thoughts, but seeing the empty silo before them, he was left to wonder where the missile had gone following its launch. How many people had it killed, before triggering a similar response from some other world power? There was no way to know. Answers to such questions had long ago been consigned to the faded pages of a history book no one would ever read.
Damn.
* * *
Pausing at the crest of the small rise, Robar brought his horse to a halt. After nearly a full day spent riding over a seemingly endless stretch of rolling hills, sun-baked sand, and withered vegetation, the landscape now gave way to a flat plain.
“Look,” said Sergeant Medros, who had accompanied him to scout ahead of Urko and the rest of the main search party. “What is that?”
Robar shifted his weight in his saddle as he beheld the odd ruins that lay before them. “I’m not sure.” Though he had seen other examples of ancient human cities and other artifacts, he had never ventured into those areas. Still, he recognized telltale signs of that earlier civilization, in the form of the odd, smooth stone that seemed to be everywhere, along with rusted, twisted metal. How had the humans been able to make such things? It was beyond Robar’s understanding, and his attempts to elicit more information from Urko had met with great resistance. More than once, the chief of security had cautioned him about the dangers of “unchecked curiosity.”
“It is the sort of thing the humans would want to investigate,” said Medros.
“You’re right.” Robar nodded, recalling that Urko had been quite clear on this topic when dispatching him and Medros, along with the other advance scouts, into the Paola Wastelands. By Robar’s reckoning, he and Medros had ridden about two hours ahead of the main party. If they turned back now, they could report back to Urko well before dark. On the other hand, what if the renegade humans and their traitorous chimpanzee companion were here, now? This might be a rare opportunity to capture or kill them. Urko had promised a hefty reward to the ape who accomplished that task, and being in the security chief’s good graces would surely carry numerous other advan
tages.
Urging his horse to begin traversing the gentle slope toward the ruins, Robar gestured for Medros to follow him. “Let’s have a closer look.”
* * *
Their tour of the underground facility had been cut short, thanks to several sections of the complex being inaccessible due to cave-ins or tunnel collapses. Everything below this main level had been cut off, but a cursory inspection of the upper areas revealed that the main entrance appeared to still be useable, though Virdon guessed it would take a bit of work to clear whatever dirt or rock might be covering the access point on the surface.
The most surprising find was the stockpile of provisions waiting for them in what at one time had been sleeping quarters for the personnel manning the complex. Fresh water and vacuum-sealed meal packets were the most prized items, but Virdon and Burke also had found a selection of tools and other small equipment which they might carry with them. Included with the tools were a pair of Colt M1911 .45-caliber semiautomatic pistols, the same model of weapon with which both astronauts would be familiar thanks to their Air Force training, along with belts, holsters, and a sizable amount of extra ammunition. What had captured Virdon’s attention was the folded paper map depicting what once had been the United States, including a detailed inset for the area encompassing California, as well as western Nevada and Arizona. Both astronauts had only been slightly surprised to see a red circle on the map in southeastern California, indicating the missile complex’s probable location not too far from the Nevada border.
“There’s no way this stuff has been here for a thousand years, Pete,” said Virdon as he inspected their find. “Somebody put this here, recently and deliberately.” The identity of their benefactor remained unknown, as a thorough search had confirmed that they were alone in the complex. Leaving the supplies in place for the moment, the trio returned to the control room.
“I recognize some of this equipment,” said Burke, dropping into one of the wheeled desk chairs positioned at different consoles. “But there’s a lot that looks like it was well after our time.”
