Planet of the Apes 03 - Journey into Terror

by George Alec Effinger

  Martin led Woda past a small storage hut at the side of the grandstand, almost to the water hole which was filled with mud. Martin stopped, but Woda pranced around in obvious agitation. Martin took a deep breath; so much of his life would be decided within the next few minutes. He felt helpless.

  Nearby, at the side of the hut, Virdon, Burke, and Galen stood together, out of sight of the crowd in the grandstand. They saw the pained expression on Martin’s face. “I really pity that guy,” said Burke. “I’d hate to have to go through what he’s going through.”

  “I’d hate to have to go through what his son is going through, as well,” said Galen, thinking of young Greger imprisoned in the stocks.

  “I might remind you that our part isn’t the most enjoyable, either,” said Virdon, watching the movement of Barlow’s horse with a critical eye.

  “I’m glad it’s you and not me,” said Burke.

  Virdon hardly heard. He was still observing Woda. “I don’t like the way that horse is acting,” he said.

  “I don’t like anything about this race!” said Burke.

  Martin heard the faint conversation of his three friends, but he did not turn around to acknowledge their presence. He knew that he had betrayed them, but he knew as well that his son’s safety was more important. He felt guilty, but helpless. He had had no real alternatives. He looked away from Virdon and concentrated on steadying Woda.

  Galen moved away a little and peeked around the corner of the grandstand, to make sure that everything was safe. All attention was focused on the horses. Galen looked back. “This is probably as good a time as any, Alan,” he said. Virdon nodded.

  “You better take off first, Galen,” said Burke. “Get in position in back of the stands, and be sure you time things right. Roll that spool just as Alan rides past Urko.”

  “I hope you two have this worked out,” said Virdon. “I’m counting on everything to happen just the way we’ve planned. I wish we’d had time for a rehearsal.”

  “Don’t worry, Alan,” said Burke.

  “I’ll watch carefully,” said Galen. “It’s not that difficult; everything will happen right on schedule. I don’t know how you can be careful, Alan, but . . . be careful.”

  “I plan to be,” said Virdon.

  Galen nodded and left. Virdon was still looking at Woda.

  “What’s wrong, Alan?” asked Burke.

  “Look,” said the blond astronaut. Burke followed Virdon’s eyes. He saw Martin trying to calm the agitated horse.

  “I don’t know,” said Burke. “You’re the horse expert here. Woda just looks anxious to get going.”

  “No,” said Virdon, “that’s not it. There’s something wrong with that horse.”

  “Something that could foul up the race?” asked Burke.

  “I don’t know,” said Virdon. “I wouldn’t be able to tell without examining the horse.”

  Burke looked at the animal worriedly. “There’s too much at stake,” he said. “If you have any doubts, let’s call it off.”

  “How can we call it off?” asked Virdon. “Maybe Woda is just nervous. This is the first time he’s been near a crowd. Well, we’ll find out what’s wrong soon enough. I’ll see you after the race, Pete. You better hurry if you want to get your two dollars down on me.”

  “Look,” said Burke. Virdon waited, but his friend said nothing more.

  Virdon laughed and started to walk away. “Yeah,” he said, “I know.”

  “Alan,” said Burke. Once more, Virdon stopped and turned around. “Alan, be careful.”

  “You, too?” said Virdon, smiling.

  “Yeah,” said Burke, “me, too. What else can I say? That I’ll miss your cooking if you get shot? Look, pal, you’re the only other guy around here I can really talk to. I don’t want to be the only ex-astronaut in the world. My booking agent says there’s no market these days. No colleges, so no college lecture dates. I’d have to get a job as a slave or something. So, uh, be careful.”

  Virdon just shook his head and clapped Burke on the shoulder. Then, without saying a word, he hurried off toward the horse. He just couldn’t say goodbye.

  Virdon, alone, head down, walked to where Martin held Woda. Carefully, the man kept the horse’s body between himself and the grandstand, so no one there could get a good look at him. Once on the horse’s back, he tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, by hunching low over the horse’s neck. Martin handed Virdon the reins.

  Burke watched all of this, his stomach tight and painful from the nervousness he was feeling. He felt alone, but he knew that Virdon was feeling virtually naked and defenseless in front of Urko and a grandstand filled with hostile apes. Silently, Burke uttered a short prayer.

  Virdon pulled back on the reins gently, but that caused Woda to whinny and dance even more. Virdon couldn’t understand what was wrong; the horse had never acted that way before. Martin watched nervously.

  In the stands, also watching, Urko was growing more complacent and arrogant, while Barlow became increasingly more unhappy. The two apes stared at the nervous horse, each possessed by his private thoughts, each the very opposite of the other.

  Virdon and Woda moved around the mudhole. Virdon appeared to be trying to rein the horse away from the hole, but Burke and Galen knew better. Suddenly, the horse reared. Virdon was thrown, landing in the deep mud. There was an immediate reaction from the grandstand; the apes laughed hilariously, and the humans sat glumly.

  Virdon knelt in the mud for a moment, evidently a bit dazed and disoriented. In the stands, Urko laughed delightedly. “He’s a great rider, all right,” cried the gorilla. “What a jockey, your human! He can’t even sit on a horse!”

  Virdon clambered out of the mudhole, covered with mud from head to foot. He was absolutely unrecognizable. He walked in a kind of stunned arc toward Woda, reaching for the reins. One of the gorillas shouted, “Put him in an oven and we’ll have a clay pot by dinner time!” Virdon did not react. He stood beside his horse, getting his bearings.

  Burke watched the show from his place of concealment by the hut. For the first time, he showed some relief from the tension that had gripped him. He called out to Virdon in a low voice. “Great work, Alan,” he said. “That’ll do it! Terrific! Your own mother wouldn’t recognize you now.” He wished that he felt as confident as he sounded.

  Virdon grinned, rather foolishly, as had been planned. Without wiping any of the mud from his body or face, he mounted the nervous horse again. The animal began to misbehave badly, rearing and twisting almost as if it had never been broken. Burke, although he knew little about horses, could sense that there was more wrong than simple nervousness.

  Virdon felt that, too, from his place on Woda’s back. There was something about the way Woda was acting that seemed suspicious to him. Woda sashayed back from the starting line. Near the shed again, Virdon arrived at a decision. He dismounted and led the horse backward by the reins. Virdon knew it was dangerous to interfere with the carefully plotted-out schedule. Still, he wanted to be certain that his horse had not been tampered with.

  Kagan, on Urko’s horse, watched the entire process. He was laughing heartily, as were many of the spectators, ape and human alike.

  Virdon walked toward Burke, still holding Woda’s reins. The horse was no longer rearing, but he was still plainly nervous. Burke ran toward Virdon. Martin walked toward them, his face blank and expressionless.

  “What’s the trouble?” asked Burke.

  “Hold him,” said Virdon to the blacksmith.

  Martin took the reins and tried to calm the horse. Woda just wouldn’t settle down. Virdon took one of the horse’s legs and looked at the hoof. Burke stood by, silently, waiting for Virdon’s decision.

  “Oh, man,” said Virdon softly.

  “What , is it?” asked Burke in frustration. “Come on, Alan, tell me.”

  Virdon just pointed. A metal wedge had been driven between the horseshoe and the hoof. “Here,” said Virdon. “This is wha
t’s wrong.”

  “I don’t believe it,” said Burke. “Who could have done it? Woda hasn’t been out of our sight all day. When we weren’t with him, Martin was in charge. None of Urko’s gorillas could have gotten near him.” Suddenly, a light seemed to flicker in Burke’s eyes. He turned abruptly and glanced at Martin. The blacksmith dropped Woda’s reins, looking almost unbearably guilty. The man started to back away in fear.

  Burke whirled away from Virdon’s side and rushed toward Martin. Virdon caught Woda’s reins as Martin turned to run. Before he could get away, Burke caught him and shook him fiercely. “Are you trying to kill Alan or your own son?” he cried.

  “It was to save him!” said Martin, moaning.

  A strange voice interrupted the scene. “Get ready for the start!” shouted the official.

  “You’re crazy!” said Burke.

  “It was all that I could do,” said Martin, once again close to tears. “It was the best thing for everyone. Urko has too much power. He makes you do what he wants.”

  Virdon wasn’t listening to Martin’s almost incoherent speech. The official had already called for the start of the race. Time was short. “Martin!” he said. “Give me some kind of tool to get these out! Hurry!”

  Martin just stared dumbly. Burke had to shake him roughly to get a response. The astronaut was just about to slap Martin back to reality, when the blacksmith gasped. “I . . . haven’t got . . . tools . . .” he said weakly.

  Martin shook his head despairingly. Burke released the poor man and rushed to help Virdon. “Here, Alan,” said Burke, drawing the crude knife he carried. “I don’t know if this will do you any good, but it’s better than digging those wedges out with your fingernails.”

  “Thanks, Pete,” said Virdon.

  “I’m sorry,” said Martin in the background. For the moment, neither of the astronauts paid him any attention.

  Virdon still held Woda’s hoof. “I think you’d better have a try at digging it out,” he said. “I can hold the hoof steady and calm the horse.”

  “All right,” said Burke, “but I don’t want to get stepped on.”

  “You won’t,” said Virdon.

  In the stands, Urko was becoming impatient. He couldn’t see what was happening by the storage shed. “What’s holding up the race?” he asked. He was just about to detail a gorilla guard to check.

  Barlow, imagining all sorts of things, had worked himself into a genuine panic. “Races never start on time,” he said. “You ought to know that by now.”

  “This one does,” said Urko in a mean voice.

  “Be patient,” said Barlow.

  Urko ignored the prefect. The gorilla stood up and shouted down to the official. “Start the race!” he cried. “No more delays!”

  The official stood at the starting line. He was caught between the unusual situation with Woda and the anger of Urko. The official knew which was more to be feared. “Bring your horse to the starting line!” he shouted to Virdon.

  Virdon and Burke were working on another hoof. “Got it!” said Burke triumphantly. “One more to go.”

  “That’s it, Pete,” muttered Virdon.

  Burke wrenched the final wedge out and dropped it to the ground. “I got it,” he said. “I don’t want to do this again. Ever. Next time, we’ll take the train.”

  “I promise,” said Virdon.

  The official stood with his hand raised. Near him, a gorilla stood with his rifle aimed into the air, awaiting the signal to start the race. Kagan sat on Tusan at the starting line, poised for the race.

  Urko was growing more furious in the stands. He stood up again. “I said start!” he bellowed.

  The official was not prepared to disagree. “Go!” he cried. He dropped his hand, the gorilla fired the rifle, and Kagan spurred Tusan forward.

  The crowd made a great roar as Urko’s horse sprang forward along the race course. Behind the stands, Galen stood waiting for his cue, holding his notched spool and a length of string. He moved into place surreptitiously.

  Virdon leaped on Woda as soon as he untangled the reins. Without a word, he kicked the horse onward to join the race. There was a cry from the stands.

  Kagan was well past the stands, on his way toward the large tree that marked the mid-point of the race. Virdon, on Woda, approached the starting line. Barlow stood up and cheered the horse and rider. Urko glared, making no noise at all. In the stands, the apes shouted for Kagan and Tusan, the humans rooted for Woda and his nameless jockey.

  Galen moved up closer to the rows of apes. He was not noticed by the humans as he moved among them. As he walked, he prepared his spool and string noisemaker, as Burke had shown him.

  Virdon neared the first pass by the stands. Barlow was stunned a little at how much of a lead Urko’s horse had. Nevertheless, Barlow cheered. Virdon’s face was covered with mud. A little of the drier mud flaked off as the wind whipped past.

  Urko was peering intently at Woda’s rider, trying hard to recognize the human. There was something tantalizingly familiar about the jockey. Urko cursed the mud which covered the man. Virdon drew even with the stands, and Urko leaned forward for a better view.

  Just then, Galen made a nerve-shattering sound with the spool. Everyone, including Urko and Barlow, looked around. At the same instant, Galen sat down out of sight among the spectators. Seeing no one, Urko and Barlow returned their attention to the race. The diversion had worked. All that could be seen of Virdon was his back, as Woda ran away from the grandstand, after Tusan.

  Urko settled back on the bench. He was still unsatisfied; he had had his curiosity piqued, and he was used to getting immediate answers. He rubbed his chin, trying to figure out what it was about the jockey that puzzled him. He decided that he’d have to wait until after the race to get his answers this time.

  The race moved into a stretch of the course that was out of view of the stands. Tusan, Urko’s horse, was still in the lead, but Woda was beginning to close the gap. Virdon urged Barlow’s horse on. Behind him came the sounds of cheering, growing fainter in the distance.

  Meanwhile, at the starting line, Burke caught up to Martin, who had wandered off in the general direction of his house. Burke grabbed the man again, shaking him. “Martin!” said Burke with genuine emotion. “Why? Why?”

  “For Greger,” said Martin simply.

  “Alan’s riding in this race to save your son!” said Burke, failing to understand.

  “Urko has a gorilla there,” said Martin, pointing. “The gorilla is to kill Virdon if he’s winning. If he loses, he won’t be killed.”

  Burke turned his head and saw Zilo, lounging at a point some distance from the finish line, with his rifle slung over one arm. “Oh, man,” murmured. Burke. “There’s just too much going on.”

  “You wouldn’t understand before,” said Martin in a dull voice. It seemed to Burke that the man was in a state of shock.

  “I’m not sure I understand now,” said Burke.

  “I promised Urko that Virdon would lose if Greger was spared,” said Martin. Suddenly, the whole thing was clear to Burke.

  “Oh, no,” he said. There was a lot to be done.

  Kagan and Tusan were approaching the booby-trapped jump. Behind them, Virdon and Woda were coming on fast. At the jump, Kagan veered Tusan away from the middle, and they went over, clearing the tangle of vines. Virdon, unsuspecting, rode Woda over the center of the jump. Woda’s legs were caught; the horse stumbled and Virdon was thrown.

  The blond man scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could. He muttered angrily as he looked at the tangle of vines. It was a typical trick of Urko’s. Virdon blamed himself for not being prepared for it. There was nothing to be done except climb back on Woda and take up the chase.

  Near the grandstands, Galen had slipped away from the crowd. He moved off, staying out of sight. Burke hurried to join him, grabbed him by an arm, and quickly explained what Martin had said. Their plans had to be changed, and in a short time. Galen nodded in agreemen
t. He took the fake scorpion out of his pocket; the object would play a new and more important role.

  Zilo, the gorilla guard stationed to kill Virdon, still lounged at his post. He hefted his rifle, anxious to get into action. Burke and Galen walked slowly and silently as near him as they could get. Burke and Galen held one final whispered conference, with Burke pointing at Zilo; at last, Galen nodded that he understood. Burke left, and Galen remained, watching Zilo.

  Woda was obviously the speedier of the two horses. Once again, the gap between them closed. Kagan looked back and was startled at how close Woda was. The gorilla urged Tusan on.

  The horses neared a tree beside the course, with Woda on the side of the track nearer the tree. Tusan at this point was only slightly ahead of Woda. Just as Virdon reached the tree, a gorilla hidden in the branches above released a bent bough. The branch whipped at Virdon’s face, but the astronaut’s reflexes saved him. He was able to duck beneath the branch, but Woda was thrown slightly off stride and lost some ground to Tusan. Virdon didn’t even look back over his shoulder; Urko had planned for this race well, and Virdon would just have to keep his eyes open.

  The race course now crossed a stream. Tusan entered the water first, splashing water in a great shower. As Virdon and Woda came to the stream, water kicked up by Tusan splashed into Virdon’s face, washing off a good deal of the mud. With one hand Virdon wiped the water out of his eyes. Woda inched closer to Tusan as both horses were slowed by the stream.

  Coming out of the water, Woda was only half a length behind Tusan, closing even that small distance. Woda moved up alongside Tusan. Kagan tried to bump Woda, and Urko’s jockey flailed at Virdon and Woda with his riding crop. Virdon, infuriated, caught Kagan’s crop and threw it away. Then Woda finally passed Tusan. They circled the large tree and began the long, straight stretch back toward the grandstand.

  The spectators were roaring as the two horses finally came back into view. By that time, Woda was leading Tusan by a good length. Urko had prepared his illegal tricks, thinking them sufficient; in the stretch there was nothing to hinder Virdon and Woda. Not until they passed Zilo, who waited impatiently with his rifle.