War for the Planet of the Apes: Official Movie Novelization

by Greg Cox

  “I see,” he said. “I kill somebody close to you that night?”

  Caesar looked the human squarely in the eyes.

  “My… family.”

  The accusation jolted the Colonel, who appeared taken aback by the revelation. He stepped closer to Caesar, maddeningly so, and stared silently at the ape with an inscrutable expression on his face. Caesar could tell that he had struck a nerve somehow, but had no way of knowing what unhinged thoughts and emotions were churning behind the human’s icy blue eyes. Red cautiously tightened his grip on the chain.

  “I’m sorry,” the Colonel said, in seeming sincerity. “I was there to kill you.”

  Caesar ignored the worthless apology. He glowered at the Colonel, who was almost but not quite within reach. Simian muscles tensed as the human inched ever nearer, seemingly fascinated by the legendary ape he had been hunting for years.

  “My God, look at your eyes… they’re almost human.” He considered the prisoner before him. “How did you know I was here?”

  Caesar saw no reason to dissemble. “I was told you were coming. That others would be joining you here.”

  “Joining me…?”

  “To finish us off,” Caesar said, “for good.”

  The Colonel smirked, as though at a private joke. “Who told you that?”

  Caesar held his tongue, not about to betray Bad Ape’s confidence, let alone alert the Colonel to the presence of Maurice and Rocket and the others. Caesar wondered how long he’d been unconscious. If the sun hadn’t risen yet, then his friends would still be waiting in the woods just beyond the canyon. He had told them to leave and join the others, but that was before he’d discovered that the exodus was already doomed. He wasn’t sure what he wanted them to do now.

  They were on their own now: just three apes and a human girl. Up against the Colonel and his army?

  The Colonel sighed in resignation, acting none too surprised by Caesar’s refusal to answer his question. He nodded at Red.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  Red yanked Caesar roughly to his feet, causing his head to spin momentarily. The collar dug into Caesar’s throat, choking him.

  “Okay!” Red rasped. “Okay, Kerna!”

  Preacher also moved in toward Caesar, keeping a close watch on the captive ape, as he and Red marched Caesar out of the depot into the frozen prison yard beyond, which Caesar had previously only viewed from above. Peering about, despite the chain attached to his neck, he tried to take in as many details as he could manage.

  It was still dark out, but electric lights lit the area harshly. The old railway tracks led away from the depot; glancing back at the moldering, hangar-like structure, Caesar spied a corroded metal sign identifying the building:

  CA STATE BORDER QUARANTINE

  DETENTION & RELOCATION CENTER,

  PROCESSING DEPOT

  In other words, Caesar translated, the human zoo where infected men, women, and children were brought to die. And where, according to Bad Ape, the guards had eventually died as well.

  Leaving the depot behind, they followed the tracks past a string of dilapidated multi-level structures that had apparently been put to use as barracks for the Colonel’s troops. Tiers of abandoned cell blocks, which had probably once been used to house infected humans under quarantine, were stacked on top of each other along both sides of a wide open yard that was littered with frosted rubble and debris. Many of the containment cells were missing doors, windows, and even walls. Human soldiers, huddled around campfires in front of the crumbling barracks, gave Caesar dirty looks as he passed them.

  Beyond the barracks, a pair of two-story guard towers watched over the camp. Electrical wires and cables were strung across the yard. Searchlights swept the canyon, revealing more hateful, hand-painted slogans like the ones back at the Colonel’s base camp.

  MONKEY HUNTING SEASON!

  EXTINCTION, NOT EVOLUTION!

  KONGS BURN IN HELL!

  MAKE THE WORLD HUMAN AGAIN!

  Armed guards manned the watchtowers. They snapped to attention at the sight of them.

  “Evening, Colonel!” one of the guards shouted down.

  The Colonel did not bother looking up at the guard. “Any more trouble tonight?”

  “No, sir!” the guard responded forcefully, eager to please. “Not anymore.”

  He pointed at the crucified apes on the granite shelf above. There were only eleven figures bound to the wooden X’s now that Spear was gone. None of them appeared to be moving.

  The Colonel finally peered up at the guard. He scowled slightly.

  “You could use a haircut there, son.” He scrutinized the other guard. “You too, soldier.”

  “Sir, yessir!” they answered in unison, demonstrating that what Red had said earlier, about the human soldiers’ devotion to the Colonel, had not been an exaggeration. As a primate, Caesar recognized a display of dominance when he saw one. The Colonel’s command over his troops appeared unchallenged.

  There would be no human Koba usurping his authority.

  Caesar slowed to consider this, earning him a sharp tug on the collar from Red. Caesar stumbled forward, toward where his people were being held against their will.

  Countless chimpanzees, gorillas, orangutans, and bonobos were crowded into several large holding pens. Masses of apes, representing practically the entire population of their one-time fortress, were shackled to each other like an old-fashioned human chain gang, making it impossible for them to climb out of the fenced enclosures. They stared aghast at Caesar through the metal bars of the fences, stunned to see him. His heart aching for his people, he tried to meet their eyes, to let them know that he shared their distress, but, to his surprise and dismay, the majority of the apes averted their gaze. Sullen expressions and resentful scowls greeted Caesar.

  They’ve lost faith in me, he realized. Because I was not there for them when they needed me most.

  The realization that his own people felt that he had abandoned them jolted Caesar to his core. He staggered numbly, on the verge of losing all hope, when a frenzy of plaintive shrieks from another pen seized his attention. Turning rapidly, he saw that one of the pens was filled exclusively with ape children, heartlessly separated from their parents. Helpless and frightened, the children gazed pitiably at Caesar, looking to him for deliverance. One small chimpanzee pushed his way through the others to press himself against the fence, trying desperately to keep pace with Caesar, who was devastated to behold the terrified face of his only surviving son.

  Cornelius!

  Cornelius’s tearful eyes pleaded for his father. His tiny fingers stretched through the bars of the fence, pathetically trying to reach Caesar, who wanted nothing more than to comfort his motherless child. His son needed him.

  Caesar wanted to lunge toward his child, chain or no chain, but forced himself to hold back. He glanced anxiously at the Colonel, terrified that he would take note of the little chimp’s frantic reaction to Caesar and figure out that he hadn’t killed all of Caesar’s family just yet. Better that the Colonel thought that he was just another ape child of no special importance.

  He shook his head urgently at Cornelius, trying to quiet him, just as the Colonel started to turn toward the commotion. Caesar longed to comfort his child instead; it was torture to keep silent.

  I have no choice, Caesar thought.

  He turned his back on Cornelius, walking on as though his son’s panicky cries meant nothing to him. The heartbreaking shrieks, as well as those of the other children, tortured Caesar, who could still feel his little son’s eyes upon him as he left him alone in that dismal cage.

  Just like Will left me alone in the primate shelter so many years ago.

  Caesar remembered just how confused and betrayed he had felt on that nightmarish day. And he knew exactly what Cornelius had to be feeling right now, watching his father abandon him without a word.

  Forgive me, my son. This is the only way to keep you safe.

  If any of us is tru
ly safe now…

  The door to the adult ape pen slid open, the ice on its hinges cracking as it did. The Colonel sneered at the chained and dispirited apes confined to the pen, who shuffled anxiously at its opposite end, getting as far away from the soldiers as possible.

  “Your apes didn’t put up much of a fight,” he informed Caesar. “You should have been with them.” He snickered at his new prisoner. “Well, you’re with them now.”

  He nodded at Preacher, who handed Red a key from his belt. The turncoat hurled Caesar to the ground with more force than was strictly necessary. Grabbing Caesar’s leg, he yanked on it roughly as he began shackling Caesar to the other apes. Caesar winced in pain.

  “Hey,” Preacher muttered under his breath. “Take it easy, donkey.”

  Red looked irritably at the young soldier, but clearly knew better than to directly challenge a human. Preacher glanced nervously at the Colonel, as though he feared that his half-hearted show of compassion might incur a rebuke, but the Colonel merely observed the exchange in silence.

  His work done, Red returned the key to Preacher. Caesar discreetly kept a close eye on the key as Preacher clipped it back onto the crowded ring on his belt, while trying hard not to make his interest too obvious. He shot a glance at the Colonel, who lingered for a moment before exiting the pen without another word. Preacher and Red followed as the door to the pen slammed shut behind them. A heavy padlock clicked in place.

  Caesar found himself reunited with his people, but there was no heartfelt homecoming, joyous or otherwise. The captive apes all but ignored his presence, at most casting furtive glances at him while murmuring and signing amongst themselves. Caesar wished he could blame them for holding his departure against him, but given that he had finally returned not as a liberator, as they might have hoped, but as simply another helpless prisoner, was it truly any wonder that he had lost the confidence of those who had once revered him?

  But, just as he was convinced that he was now a king without a country, a kind hand reached down to help him to his feet. Caesar looked up into the wizened face of Percy, the orangutan elder from his council. Percy offered Caesar a sad, world-weary smile, while gesturing vaguely at the other apes.

  Forgive them, he signed. We’ve been through a great deal.

  That much was obvious. Heartsick, Caesar surveyed what was left of his people—and saw Lake among them. The female chimp was shackled further down the chain, but was close enough to grant Caesar a look of sympathy, even as Cornelius’s anguished squawks and shrieks drew her gaze toward the penned children across the yard from the adults. Her lovely face filled with regret.

  I’m sorry, she signed to Caesar. I tried to keep him safe. They separated us from the children as soon as we got here.

  Caesar did not judge her. She had kept Cornelius alive at least, for which he would always be grateful, no matter how short always might turn out to be. He was confident that Lake had done her very best to protect Blue Eyes’ little brother. It was a miracle that any of them were still alive at all, let alone little Cornelius.

  Caesar stared bleakly across the agonizing gap between him and his son, who was still pressed up against the fence several yards away. Chains, fences, armed guards, and the Colonel’s genocidal campaign divided them, just as so many other apes’ families were divided.

  But to what end?

  17

  “Hu-uh-left! Left-right-left…!”

  A chanting voice greeted the dawn, rousing Caesar from uneasy dreams. He woke to find himself lying on the icy ground of the pen, still chained to the other apes, who were stirring as well. The sound of marching boots accompanied the stern voice ringing out with a distinctly military cadence.

  Still slightly disoriented, Caesar looked around at his fellow prisoners, who all looked anxious, as though they knew—and dreaded—what was coming next. His eyes found Percy, who shook his aged head somberly. The old ape could offer only sympathy, not hope.

  The noise from the pounding boots built in volume, drawing Caesar’s attention to the grounds outside the ape pens, where at least three hundred human soldiers were marching in tight formation. Rising to his feet, Caesar observed the intimidating faces of the soldiers. Stony expressions allowed no weakness. Intense, blazing eyes exposed a common sense of purpose. Caesar could tell that any one of them would gladly die for the cause—and their Colonel.

  Caesar knew that look. He had once seen it on the faces of his own people.

  The chanting ceased and troops halted in unison. Executing a sharp about-face, they stared reverently up at the warden’s station atop the central watchtower. The vandalized state flag hung below the empty balcony surrounding the station. The soldiers fervently saluted the banner and what it now stood for.

  AΩ.

  Chilled, and not just by the brisk mountain morning, Caesar watched as an executive officer, whom the ape did not recognize, led the massed troops in some sort of ritual or ceremony.

  “Blood…!” the lieutenant called out.

  “MAKES THE GRASS GROW!” the soldiers responded.

  “We…!”

  “MAKE THE BLOOD FLOW!”

  “We are the beginning…!”

  “AND THE END!”

  The ominous rite unnerved Caesar; even the most brutal humans he’d encountered in the past had never displayed this kind of fanaticism. The soldiers and survivors back in San Francisco, after the plague, had just been scared and desperate and angry. Caesar had understood what had driven them to violence, even if he’d had to fight back against them.

  But this was something… different. Something wrong.

  And even more terrifying.

  “Oo-rah!” chanted the soldiers as the Colonel finally stepped out onto the balcony high above his troops. He was bare-chested, despite the cold, as though he hadn’t finished dressing yet. Casually shaving his skull with a straight razor, he gazed down at his cheering soldiers, who chanted and whooped at the mere sight of him. “OO-RAH!”

  Shrill army whistles cut through the roar, calling the troops to action. Breaking formation, the soldiers stomped toward the pens and unlocked them. Armed guards, accompanied by Red and a few other turncoat apes, stormed into the enclosures and forced the lines of chained apes to their feet and out into the yard. Barked commands were backed up by vicious leather whips, which were employed freely and indiscriminately, regardless of whether they were needed or not. The whips cracked against the backs and shoulders of the prisoners, brutally reminding Caesar of the ugly welts across Spear’s back before he died. The sight of apes whipping apes turned Caesar’s stomach.

  Apes do not hurt apes!

  The Colonel coolly watched the savagery unfolding below him. Putting down his razor, he retrieved a small stainless-steel flask from his hip and sipped from it slowly before retreating back into his tower.

  The soldiers marched the apes across the snow toward the far end of the camp, away from the mountain looming above the railway depot. Armed guards paced menacingly on large railcar tankers lined up along one side of the camp; Caesar guessed that the tanks provided fuel for the camp’s generators, keeping the lights on at night.

  Humans and their fossil fuels, he thought. Apes don’t need electricity.

  Not that this does us any good now.

  His jaw dropped as they passed beyond the tankers and a tremendously high wall came into view. Sealing the front end of the canyon, the colossal structure was like nothing Caesar had ever seen, before or after the humans’ civilization crashed. Part of it, consisting of large cracked slabs of weathered concrete erected many years ago, appeared to be man-made, but the bulk of the wall was obviously ape-made. Building on the original construction, massive tree trunks had been fastened together to form an enormous framework into which huge chunks of stone were being set, one by one. The sheer amount of manual labor required was astounding—and explained why exactly the Colonel hadn’t killed all the apes yet.

  He’s using us as slave labor, Caesar realized. To reb
uild the wall.

  The soldiers herded the apes toward the wall. Caesar noted that one old concrete slab, still standing amidst the newer timber and stone construction, was marked by graffiti. AΩ had been painted in red upon the slab, while large blood-hued letters spelled out a chilling message:

  HUMANITY’S LAST STAND. Built on the backs of captive apes.

  * * *

  Caesar soon experienced firsthand what his unfortunate people had been enduring for days. The sun beat down on him, despite the wintry climate, as he toiled ceaselessly upon the wall, now just another slave in a suffering mass of apes forced into hard labor by the Colonel’s soldiers. Huge rocks, too heavy for the average human to lift, were passed from ape to ape, while other apes strained on ropes to lift the boulders into place high upon the ever-growing wall. Armed soldiers supervised the construction, their weapons discouraging any opposition from the overworked apes, while Red and his fellow turncoats stood ready with their whips in case any of the ape workers slackened. Squinting into the sunlight, Caesar saw even more apes perched precariously on a rocky shelf overlooking the tanker cars, where they were being compelled to quarry more stones from the ledge using picks and hammers. Armed guards ensured that the tools were not converted into weapons.

  At least our children are not being worked to death, Caesar thought grimly. Yet.

  The back-breaking labor went on for hours without respite. Not far from Caesar, Lake panted in exhaustion as she passed yet another boulder along the line; she was a young ape, in her prime, but Caesar could see that all of the apes had been pushed to the limits of their endurance. They were weary, gaunt, on the verge of collapse. He had only been at it for less than a day and he was already bone-tired and ready to drop; he could only imagine how fatigued the other apes were, especially the weak and the elderly.

  He lifted his eyes to the upper reaches of the wall, where Percy could be seen among the apes pulling the boulders up on ropes. The geriatric orangutan was gasping for breath, barely pulling his weight; Caesar was astounded that the old ape was managing to work at all, given his advanced age and how arduous the task was. His heart ached to see his people abused this way. His jaw tightened.