Virdon concentrated on his whittling. “Maybe,” he said noncommitally.
“Can I have it?” asked Kraik.
“When I’m finished with it,” said Virdon. “Maybe.”
Arn moved close to the two males, watching Virdon as he worked on his project. She stood there with them, feeling a sense of warmth and fondness.
Virdon continued to work on the model airplane, concentrating on the toy to the exclusion of everything else around him. He did not see Arn’s softening glance, or Kraik’s fascinated stare. The airplane itself, being a reminder of Virdon’s old world, brought him a warm and pleasant glow of the days he had been removed from.
“Did you fly yourself?” asked Kraik. “Did you ever really fly? Really?”
Virdon was amused by the vehemence in the boy’s questions. They were tinged with disbelief but, yet, a kind of hopefulness. “Many times,” said the blond astronaut. “I flew in an airplane probably more times than you went to sleep not hungry. There was a day when people used to fly everywhere. Instead of having to walk hundreds of miles, or steal rides on the backs of farmers’ carts, people just boarded huge airplanes and flew for hundreds and even thousands of miles.”
“And in those days,” said Kraik, still not comprehending how Virdon’s days were different than his own, “did the people have enough to eat?”
Virdon looked at the boy with compassion. This overwhelming search for daily food colored every thought the boy had.
The answer to the question was not simple. Virdon had to consider his reply carefully. He thought in silence for several seconds. “Not always,” he said at last. “And not everyone.”
Kraik shrugged. He had suspected that Virdon had not come from so far away, after all. “Like here, now,” he said.
Virdon sighed. It would be very difficult to explain the differences in their eras; it would require an entire indoctrination about how the apes had not always been in power, and how human beings had governed the world. “No,” said Virdon, “people in that time didn’t have it as tough as you do now.”
Kraik grinned proudly. “I don’t eat bad,” he said. It was obviously a sign of status among the people of the forbidden area. “If anybody can find food, it’s me. I know this city like nobody else. If I hear somebody’s got fruit or maybe sometimes meat, I sneak in the back way, or come up through a sewer, or crawl in a hidden window. I grab and run before anybody’s even looking.” He finished his speech with an insolent look of self-confidence, an expression that bordered on arrogance. He virtually dared Virdon to find fault with him.
Virdon did not want to find fault. He felt that it was necessary though to point out that there might be better ways to co-exist with the apes and the other humans in the city. “If we can get our hands on what’s buried in this city,” he said, “You nor anybody else will have to scratch and steal for food any more.”
“Is food buried?” asked Kraik.
Virdon shook his head. “A lot of long-forgotten ideas that might be used to make this a nicer world,” he said.
Virdon grinned at the boy. “There must be a million things you never dreamed of.”
Kraik thought about Virdon’s words. As before, there were elements that were totally above the boy’s head. They bore no factual relation to anything in the boy’s experience. “Could I have my own . . .” he said, stumbling on the words and the concept, “. . . ‘flying machine’?”
Virdon continued to whittle the airplane from the block of wood. The exercise was pleasant and restful. He had barely heard Kraik’s question, and the answer did not come until the boy’s words penetrated Virdon’s conscious mind. “Oh,” said the blond astronaut, “maybe.”
Virdon stood up, holding the unfinished plane in one hand. He stretched and smiled at Arn, then walked toward the stairway. He slowly mounted the stairs, seeking privacy in one of the rooms off the corridor above. Arn followed.
Kraik stood where he was, watching Virdon and Arn as they left.
Virdon found the room he was looking for. In one corner was an old, small wooden box. He opened the lid and placed the nearly complete airplane model inside, for safekeeping. Arn came up behind him.
“Hello,” he said to her. “I didn’t hear you coming.”
“I’m sorry to surprise you,” said Arn. “He respects you, Alan,” she said in a grateful tone of voice.
Virdon smiled and looked thoughtfully into the distance. “My own son would be about his age,” he said softly.
“It’s a remarkable thing,” said Arn. “I’ve known him for several years. I’m sure that he never trusted anyone else before.”
Virdon frowned. He thought about the different lifestyles that had molded Arn and his own son. “Never?” he asked. “He’s never had a friend before?”
Arn shuddered. This wonderful, strange man had still a lot to learn about their lives. “In the city,” she said, “no one has friends.”
Virdon considered her feelings. “I wonder, though,” he said. “He must have known his father or his mother.”
“I would not recognize my own parents among those in this city,” said Arn, without a trace of ill will. It was simply a statement of fact, accepted by all who chose to live in the forbidden area. “Even fathers—not all of them, but some—fight anybody for enough food to stay alive.”
“That poor kid . . .” said Virdon.
Urko had a rough map of the city tacked on one wall. He stood near it, studying it, working on it, marking off sections. As Zaius entered, Urko turned from his work and smiled.
Zaius went up next to Urko and examined the map, with its bright colored pins stuck in ruled-off sectors. “How do the war games go, Urko?” he asked.
Urko grunted and turned back to his map. He did not bother to reply to Zaius for a full minute. He was irritated; whenever Urko and his allied soldiers prepared an intelligent search and seizure scheme, Zaius spoiled the atmosphere by referring to the procedure as a “game.” Urko worked on his map while his anger cooled. “This is just in the event that I kill the prisoner before he tells me where the others are,” said the gorilla. “It’s a backup system. You would never have thought to provide for one. This is an example of gorilla efficiency and experience.”
Urko turned back to face the President of the Supreme Council. “And Zaius,” he said, “even if your way does not work, I intend to find Galen and Burke. And I shall kill them, too.”
“I have no doubt about that,” said Zaius unpleasantly.
In the scientific institute, the day progressed slowly. The niche in which the machine stood was partially blocked off by a makeshift wall, constructed of bits and pieces of fallen masonry. Galen approached with a piece of crumbling masonry which he added to the wall. As he finished doing this, Burke appeared with another piece of masonry which he, too, added to the wall. At all times, the two friends kept the stolen rifle close at hand.
Galen steadied the new pieces as the wall grew larger. He worked in silence until a question occurred to him. “If we cover this,” he asked, “how will Alan know you made the, uh, the projector work?”
Burke laughed. “There are things you learn about someone when you spend a lot of time with him. Alan knows me like a book, and I have a feeling that I could guess his reactions in a situation, too. The answer is logic. Step One, he guesses we wouldn’t cover it if there was nothing to hide. That brings him to Step Two. He uncovers it. He sees the new battery, he turns on the machine, and he learns the location of the vault. Step Three, logic tells him that’s where we’ve gone.”
Any further discussion was interrupted by the terrifying clatter of horses’ hooves not far away.
Galen stared at the wall of the institute. He listened with his superior hearing for a moment, then turned back to Burke. “Unless, of course,” he said grimly, “Step Four, the gorillas catch us here before we can finish.”
Burke snorted. “You’re a real bundle of joy,” he said.
Virdon, Kraik, and Arn were seated near
the fire. Virdon had finished fashioning a pouch from rough cloth and leather thongs. “There you go,” he said. “We’ll work up a strap to hold it to your side, then you can carry your things in it.”
Kraik looked at him blankly. “What things?” he asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Virdon. “Not a baseball or a stick of chewing gum, not even crumbled up chocolate chip cookies . . .”
Kraik looked at Virdon uncomprehendingly, having no idea what the man was talking about.
“I’m rambling,” said Virdon. “Where I come from, boys like to have pockets. Like this pouch, so they can carry whatever they want.”
“This place you come from,” said Kraik, almost afraid to ask. “Will you go back there?”
“I hope so,” said Virdon with a faraway look in his eyes. “Some day.”
“I think I’d like to see that place,” said Kraik.
Virdon glanced at him with fondness. He reached out and tousled Kraik’s hair. “I think you ought to pull your weight around here.”
“What?” asked Kraik.
“Do your share of the work,” said Virdon. “Go down to the cellar and collect some more firewood.”
Kraik made a face. “I will,” he said. “In a little while.”
“That story you told Kraik,” said Arn. “About what the world could be like. Was that true?”
“It was a hope,” said Virdon.
Arn’s expression changed. She was clearly disappointed. “Oh,” she said. “Only a hope.”
Virdon spoke quickly, wanting to reassure her. “It’s not impossible,” he said. “My friends and I found a place where there was a message. It told about hope for the world, for humans. Hope in the form of human knowledge.”
Kraik looked disgusted. “What good is that?” he asked. “Can you eat it?”
Arn ignored Kraik’s words. “How do you find this knowledge?” she asked.
Virdon thought for a moment. “Do you know that building not far from where you lived? It has big columns in front of it, and an arched entrance that’s partly caved in.”
“Is it made of crumbling gray brick?” asked Kraik.
“That’s the one,” said Virdon. “Didn’t I ask you to get some wood?”
Kraik ignored the order. “I’ve been there. There’s nothing inside, no food, no clothes, nothing.”
“You’re wrong,” said Virdon. “There’s a machine in that building, Kraik, and by now it may have told my friends how to find the knowledge that could change the world.”
“A machine that talks?” asked Kraik, his credulity stretched to the breaking point. “You’re making fun of me.”
“If you don’t get to work right now, I’ll really make fun of you.”
Kraik grimaced. “I want to hear more stories.”
“Later,” said Virdon sternly. “Do your job first.”
Kraik started to protest again, but Virdon overrode him. “Right now,” said the blond man. Resignedly, Kraik stood and went out.
For a few seconds there was silence. It was evident to Virdon that Arn, too, had her doubts and her questions, but she was working to overcome her shyness in asking them. “I like to hear stories about your world, too,” she said.
“Compared to where you were living, almost any place would sound wonderful,” said Virdon.
“When I first met Tomar,” said Arn wistfully, “he lived on a farm with his brother. It was beautiful.”
“Why did you leave?” asked Virdon.
“A woman goes with her man,” she said. “Tomar wanted to reach other men, make them think the way he did, make them have hope. The apes killed him.”
“He wouldn’t have been really alive if he didn’t have hope,” said Virdon, realizing that Arn’s dead husband had been one of the few humans in this world with the intelligence and vision to stand up against the apes.
Arn flared up momentarily. “Other men don’t try to change the world. They live to hold a woman in their arms, to have sons . . .” Her voice trailed off; she seemed to be afraid of the depth of her own emotions. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be,” said Virdon. “Couldn’t you go back to the farm?”
“I don’t know,” said Arn. “I’ve thought about it. It’s easier just to do nothing, though. And, when you’re alone, maybe it’s better not to go where you’re always reminded that once you weren’t alone . . .”
Virdon remained silent for some time, considering what his proper response should be. “You could meet another man,” he said.
“Yes. I didn’t think so, but now I do. Tell me another story, Alan.”
There was a moment of quiet as they looked at each other. Virdon felt himself approaching an emotional brink that suddenly seemed dangerous to him. He withdrew with a conscious effort.
“What would you like to hear?” he asked lamely.
“Anything you tell me,” she said.
Virdon recognized the dangerous terrain on which he walked with Arn. He moved away, so that he was not close enough to touch her. She watched for a moment, and then resigned herself to a less personal inquiry—if only for the moment. “Was there really a machine that talks?” she asked.
The conversation had moved back onto safe ground. “Sure,” said Virdon. “And a machine that heats, and a machine that cools, and a machine that flies—like—” He had moved in the direction of the spot where he had left the model. He looked and stopped abruptly. The place where the plane had rested was empty.
Virdon glanced in the direction Kraik had gone, and the man shook his head. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured. Arn watched him curiously. Virdon left in the direction Kraik had followed.
Kraik sat alone in an alcove. He was resting on the pallet he used for a bed, examining the model airplane. He heard someone coming toward him, and quickly tried to hide the model. It was too late. It was Virdon.
“Why did you take it?” asked the astronaut.
“I didn’t take anything,” said Kraik.
“Listen to me,” said Virdon, trying to control his voice. “We’ve got to have some rules about how we behave—you, me, Arn. Rule one, I guess, is we trust each other. All right?”
Kraik wouldn’t look Virdon directly in the eyes. “Maybe,” he muttered.
“We don’t lie,” said Virdon, “we don’t take things without permission . . .” He waited a moment for some kind of response from Kraik. There was a pause.
“I’m tired,” said Kraik. “I want to sleep.”
Virdon continued, more sternly than before. “Give me the model, please,” he said.
“I won’t!” cried Kraik.
Virdon extended his hand. “You don’t take anything unless you’re given permission.”
Kraik deliberately ignored this. Virdon reached behind the boy and was about to take the airplane from where it was concealed. Before he could get it, however, Kraik grabbed the airplane and made a dash to get away. Virdon caught the boy, and held him firmly by the shoulders. He swung Kraik around so that the boy had to face Virdon. Kraik tried to pull away, to look away.
“Give me the airplane, Kraik,” said Virdon calmly.
“Let me go!” cried the boy.
“Hand it to me.”
“You made it for me,” said Kraik. “It’s mine!”
“It is not yours and it never will be unless you behave.”
In a sudden fury, Kraik slammed the airplane to the floor where it broke into several pieces.
“There’s your stupid airplane,” said the boy, sobbing. “I don’t want it!”
Virdon sighed and stretched his tense shoulders. “All right,” he said finally, “you’ve made sure you won’t get it.”
“I hate you!” shouted Kraik. “I hate you!”
He ran from the room. Virdon looked after him, hurting terribly inside. He bent over silently to pick up the pieces of the shattered plane.
Several minutes later, outside, in the courtyard below the window through which Virdon had tried to make
his escape, there was a strange scene. A sergeant, evidently doing sentry duty, marched his post in straight, military lines. But he saw something that made him stop, bewildered. A gorilla guard holding Kraik by the arm entered the courtyard and approached the sergeant. The guard saluted and presented Kraik, who tried to twist out of the ape’s grasp.
“Here,” said the guard disgustedly. “This creature wanted to see you. I can’t imagine why you would want to see him, but as he was wandering about the restricted area, I thought it best to bring him to you. He says you promised him a reward.”
“He did!” cried Kraik. “Let go!”
The sergeant bent down and gave Kraik an evil grin. “Well,” he said to the boy, “What do you have to tell me?”
Kraik was silent, hesitant, frightened.
The sergeant grew angry. “Don’t waste my time, human!” he shouted. “Do you know where the outlaw ape and human are?”
There was a long moment’s silence. Kraik’s ambivalence led him first one way, then another. Finally, he nodded affirmatively.
FOUR
It was day, and the sunlight streamed through the high windows into the castle room. Arn and Virdon sat by the fire. Kraik entered and glanced toward them sadly; almost, almost he went to them, but he changed his mind and crossed instead toward his sleeping alcove.
Arn looked up and saw the boy. She stood up.
Kraik went into his alcove and went to his bed. He stopped short as he saw the model airplane, patched together again, on the bed. He picked it up gently and looked at it. Arn came in, and stood watching him for a moment. “He was very upset,” she said softly.
Kraik turned around and looked at her, ready to cry.
“The ‘airplane’,” said Arn. “He was making it for you.”
Kraik looked at her, at the airplane, and suddenly he could hold back his tears no longer. He was no more a self-sufficient, tough street urchin; now he was just a frightened little boy. He threw his arms around her, sobbing; “I . . . I told the gorilla,” he said, choking.
Urko, the Captain, the Sergeant, and a squad of gorilla guards cautiously moved in around the scientific institute building. Urko expertly deployed the others so that there was no way anyone inside the building could possibly escape.
Planet of the Apes 03 - Journey into Terror Page 8
