Planet of the Apes 03 - Journey into Terror
Page 17
Barlow was on his feet, rooting Woda home in a rhythmic, hoarse cheer. Urko was furious; he couldn’t believe what he saw. He looked toward Zilo and made a small motion with one hand. He couldn’t be sure that Zilo saw the signal; nevertheless, Zilo was aware of what was happening. The uniformed gorilla raised his rifle.
Virdon was ecstatic as he neared the finish line. The exhilaration of the race had made him slightly giddy. He shouted into the wind. He talked to the horse. “Beautiful, Woda,” he cried. “Beautiful! We’ve got it made!” It seemed to Virdon that nothing in the world could prevent them from winning the race and saving the life of Martin’s son.
Zilo held his rifle at his shoulder and aimed. Behind him, Galen appeared and placed the fake scorpion on the other shoulder. Zilo didn’t feel it. Galen shouted, “Scorpion! Don’t move!” Zilo froze, knowing that the scorpions only stung a moving target. Zilo’s eyes grew large, and he caught sight of the scorpion on his shoulder, though not clearly enough to see that it wasn’t real.
The roar of the crowd grew louder. Virdon was winning by six lengths. Urko sat in the stands raging. Then his fury seemed to vanish instantly. The general of the gorillas stared in shocked silence. Virdon’s face, no longer covered by mud, was clearly recognizable. Before Urko could say a word, Virdon and Woda crossed the finish line, winning the race to the cheers of the human spectators and the excited, shrill cries of Barlow.
Urko whirled toward the prefect. “Virdon!” shouted Urko. “Your jockey is the fugitive, Virdon!”
“Is that a fact?” said Barlow with feigned innocence. “He didn’t mention it. All that I was interested in was his riding ability. He rides quite well, don’t you think? Ah, well, it has nothing to do with our bet, whoever my jockey is.”
Urko could scarcely contain his anger. He turned to the other side, where Zandar sat, growing uncomfortable in Urko’s obvious fury. “Zandar!” screamed Urko. “Get the horses! Follow him! That man will be dead within the hour, or I’ll find myself a whole new army!”
“Yes, sir,” said Zandar uneasily, as he hurried out of the grandstand, followed by Urko.
Kagan, having lost the race, pulled up. Virdon, the winner, didn’t stop to be congratulated. He knew what Urko would be doing, and he had made appropriate plans with Burke and Galen. Virdon kept riding, urging Woda past the grandstand filled with perplexed and curious humans and apes.
At the same time, the guard hurried from the grandstand back to his post at the stocks. Greger was still imprisoned there. The guard hurried up to the stocks and unlocked Greger, after first looking around to see that no one was in sight.
Greger was excited. “Did Barlow’s horse win?” he asked the guard when he was free.
“Yes,” said the gorilla, “you better run.”
Greger joyously dashed a few steps down the street of Venta. The guard lifted his rifle to his shoulder, aiming at the boy. Greger was still unaware of the guard’s treacherous intentions. Just as the guard was about to pull the trigger, Burke came flying from between two buildings and threw a rolling block that cut the ape’s legs out from under him. The guard went down, his rifle spinning off a short distance. The ape grunted, the wind knocked from his lungs. Greger heard the sounds, and stopped to look around. He saw the guard painfully scrambling for the rifle. Burke was on his feet, racing for cover, away from the guard. Behind them came the sound of horse’s hooves. The guard regained his rifle and was about to level it at Greger when Virdon raced in on Woda. The blond man kicked the rifle from the guard’s hands. “Greger!” cried Virdon.
Greger got the message and put himself into position as Virdon pulled Woda to a halt beside him. Greger made a vaulting mount onto Woda behind Virdon. The horse was goaded to gallop off, and Woda and his two riders disappeared down the main street before the guard recovered his rifle again. Urko and his gorillas had mounted in the meantime and were thundering in pursuit.
The chase lasted for a long while; Woda, faster than the gorillas’ horses, was overloaded but still maintained a healthy lead. The marvelous animal didn’t appear to be fatigued at all, even following the race.
Virdon and Greger rode until they came to a bridge. There they stopped and dismounted. Virdon slapped Woda on the rump, and the horse ran off across the countryside. Virdon and Greger hurried down among the rocks and hid beneath the bridge. Soon Urko and his gorillas rode by, stopped, listened, and heard the sound of Woda’s hooves in the distance. With a signal, Urko led his gorillas on.
Urko rode for several minutes, at last admitting that he had lost the trail. The gorillas stopped on the country road, beside the thick brush that lined the way. Barlow was riding toward them, slowly. “Have you seen the fugitive?” cried Urko.
“Yes,” said Barlow. “With you. When he won the race.”
Urko gritted his teeth in frustration. “If I thought you knew who he was beforehand—!” he said.
“Could I dream a fugitive would dare to ride a horse under Urko’s very nose?”
“I don’t trust you, Barlow,” said Urko. “Your reasoning is like the trail we’ve been following: full of circles. We’ve been chasing Virdon for almost an hour, and here we are back near your blasted village.”
“I am an honorable ape, Urko,” said Barlow. “I don’t lie, I don’t break promises—and I always pay my bets. When I lose.”
“You’ll be paid,” said Urko grudgingly.
“I know,” said Barlow. “I’m on my way to collect. I’m going back to Cela.”
Urko glared. He signalled his gorillas again, and they all rode off. Barlow rode a short distance in the opposite direction, the direction in which he had been traveling. Then, when he was sure that Urko had ridden out of earshot, he reined in his horse. From the brush, cautiously, Virdon, Burke, and Galen appeared. Barlow, evidently, had been expecting them.
“I heard what you said to Urko,” said Galen. “You don’t lie. Well, perhaps not, but you certainly can tie the truth in knots.”
“I also said that I don’t break promises. Where are they?” asked Barlow.
Virdon made a sign. Martin and Greger came out from the brush nearby. As the two approached, Barlow addressed them. “You two may come and live in Cela with me,” he said. “You will be safe there.”
“Thank you, Prefect,” said Martin.
Barlow looked down at Greger. “But you are not to ride horses . . . ,” he said.
“Yes, Prefect,” said Greger.
“. . . while I’m watching,” finished Barlow. He smiled at Greger, started his horse, and moved off. Martin and Greger took a moment before they started after him.
“Thank you,” said Martin.
Virdon and Burke nodded. There was nothing else to be said.
Greger looked at Galen. “You were worried once that I might not consider you my friend. You are my friend,” he said.
“Friend,” said Galen, smiling.
Martin and Greger waved and walked down the road, on the road to Cela. Virdon, Burke, and Galen watched them for several seconds in silence. While they looked on, Martin and Greger began trotting after Barlow’s horse. Then, as though by unspoken mutual consent, Virdon, Burke, and Galen headed back into the brush and out of sight. They, at least, were still fugitives. On the planet of the apes, they might always be fugitives.
Table of Contents
Back Cover
Preview
Books
Titlepage
Copyright
Dedication
THE LEGACY
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
THE HORSE RACE
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
ends