by Greg Keyes
“I’ve already killed it,” his uncle said. “He just doesn’t know he’s dead yet. Bullets are expensive.”
He was right, and the gorilla soon died. They butchered it while the rest of its family looked on. None of the apes really seemed to know what had happened.
The thing that had just looked down at him was not like that. The fierce intelligence, the will and purpose, were all there. And they were far from childlike.
That was him, he thought. The leader.
“They went for it,” Corbin said.
Clancy was just staring at the apes as they quickly receded from view.
“That’s the first time I’ve seen one, since we started this whole thing,” she said. “A live one, I mean. I was starting to doubt they really existed.” She turned to Malakai. “Did you see…?”
He nodded.
“It’s amazing. I wish I could just study this… this… whatever is happening. It could change everything we know about apes. About ourselves.”
“Whatever,” Corbin said dismissively. “Which way?”
“Where’s the capture team?” Clancy asked.
“We call them in when we find the herd,” he said.
“This way,” Malakai said. “Quickly.”
He heard the choppers in the distance.
Suddenly a group of chimps went racing off in front of them, screeching at the tops of their lungs. A couple of the men shot at them with their tranq guns, but he didn’t think they hit any of their targets.
“Ignore them!” Malakai said. “They’re just trying to distract us. Push on.”
“The choppers think they have them spotted,” Corbin said, holding one hand up to an earpiece. “But they want visual confirmation from the ground.”
The apes in the trees buzzed at them again, but this time no one fired.
“There are signs everywhere,” Malakai muttered, looking around, seeing the remains of nests, the scuffed areas. “They were here, not long ago. A lot of them.”
“They’re on the move again.”
“Yes,” Malakai said, “but this time there are too many for them to hide their movements.”
* * *
The helicopters were already there when Caesar arrived, yet they weren’t doing anything, as far as he could see.
Maurice had the troop in motion, but some still were not moving very quickly. Caesar was raging at himself for letting his own tricks be used against him, and terrified that more apes would be killed. What’s more, it was abundantly clear that the men on foot would find the troop this time, and soon.
With a shiver, he realized that he didn’t have a choice. He had misled the humans as much as he could. After the battle on the bridge, he hadn’t wanted to fight again. He just wanted to be left alone. But that wasn’t going to be possible.
Overhead, the helicopters turned and began to fly away. Caesar watched them, wondering why. But without the helicopters…
It could be a trick.
He didn’t have a choice.
He started moving through the troop, picking out the strongest and fastest.
* * *
Malakai noticed that he no longer heard the sound of the helicopters. He couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing.
Corbin had noticed it, too, and was on his two-way, arguing with somebody.
That’s when, looking up, Malakai caught the motion in the trees, a glimpse of rust. Then another, this one black, surely a chimp.
“They’re here,” he said, his voice low. The treetops were rustling violently now as the branches above them filled with apes. He saw the orangutans first, moving almost like giant spiders above them. Then more chimps were there, frenetic, bouncing from tree to tree, screeching.
Tens of apes, maybe more than a hundred of them. Realizing what was missing, he shifted his gaze to look through the boles of the trees, searching for the ground troops. And there they were, the gorillas—not acting as gorillas should, but prowling, moving from the cover of one tree to the next.
“Do not shoot,” Malakai said, softly.
“Oh, shit,” Flores gasped, suddenly understanding the situation.
“They’re just apes,” Corbin snarled. “Keep it together.”
“Where’s the friggin’ air support?” Kyung demanded.
“It’s been recalled,” Corbin said. “I can’t get a straight answer as to why.”
“They’re recalling us, too, right?” Flores said.
“They said for us to proceed at my discretion.”
“If you tranq one of them, you’ll have to fight them all,” Malakai said.
“I’ve called everyone else in. They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
Malakai continued searching through the trees, watching the numbers grow.
“That could be a very long ten minutes.”
“Yeah,” Flores said. “And another, what, fifteen guys? Maybe if more of us had real guns, instead of Sleepy Joes…”
He looked significantly at Corbin, the only one carrying a real assault rifle.
Overhead, one of the orangs made a long call, and that set off the chimps, who began screeching even louder. Sticks began pelting down. Not big ones, but lots of them.
Malakai watched the nearest gorilla. It was staring at him as if it knew everything he had done in his life. It did not have the dull intelligence he remembered. Like the chimp he had seen earlier, this ape was different.
Clancy saw it, too.
“It’s not just one of them that’s smart,” she said. “It’s all of them.”
“I say you’d better use your ‘discretion’ to check our asses out of here, Corbin.” Flores said, his voice edged with panic.
“They’re just monkeys, damn it,” Corbin snapped.
“Don’t,” Malakai said.
As he said it, a group of chimps seemed to explode out of the mid-canopy. For an instant, the one leading them looked as shocked as anyone. Then a gunshot detonated, so near it set his ears ringing. One of the chimps screamed and tumbled from the tree, falling almost at Corbin’s feet. Before anyone could react, another chimp leapt down, knocking Corbin to the ground and sending his rifle flying.
The newcomer was a nightmarish customer, with one milky eye and a visage filled with sheer malevolence. It was a kind of face Malakai was all too used to seeing, had seen many times on people whose hatred for another tribe or religion transcended all rational bounds. Everyone seemed frozen as the ape slouched toward Corbin. In that moment, it could easily have torn the mercenary’s throat out.
But instead the one-eyed chimp backed away, although it seemed reluctant.
The cacophony from the trees suddenly cut off, leaving them with a surreal silence that was almost claustrophobic. Flores started to pull his weapon up, but Malakai slapped it down.
“Are you insane?” he hissed.
The half-blind ape went over to the wounded one and pulled it up. He lifted it onto his shoulder, all the time staring at Corbin and the others. Then he turned his back, as if daring them to shoot him, before swinging unhurriedly into a tree and climbing away, carrying his fallen comrade.
“Let’s… get… the hell… out of here!” Flores said.
Malakai picked up Corbin’s gun, keeping the barrel carefully pointed to the ground. He reached out a hand to Corbin, who ignored it and scrambled up under his own power. The apes had remained silent. But suddenly from the midst of them came a single screech.
And the rest seemed to explode—the chimps screaming, the gorillas growling threats, the orangutans hooting with what seemed to be derision. But Malakai hardly noticed them. It was their unity, their singleness of purpose that sent prickles down his spine. One glance at Clancy told him that she felt it, as well.
“Yeah,” Corbin said. “We’re out.”
For a long moment, Malakai wondered if that was even an option anymore. But as they backed away, the apes just watched them retreat.
* * *
Caesar watched them leave, his
heart hammering.
If Koba had killed the man…
He made his way over to where Rocket lay on a huge branch, the bonobo sitting beside him.
Rocket? he asked. Where bullet hit you?
Rocket looked a little embarrassed.
No bullet, he said. Surprised. Missed branch. He indicated his leg. Hurt, he said. Then his arm. Hurt.
Can you travel? Relief welled up in Caesar’s chest.
Not fast, Rocket replied.
Caesar glanced back up at the sky. He still couldn’t hear any helicopters.
We have to go, find new place, he said. They come back with more guns, more machines.
I’ll help him, Koba said.
No, Caesar said, Sam will help him. You lead his band now.
Koba’s eyes went wide.
You made the right choice, Caesar said. You chose Rocket. You chose ape. I am proud.
Koba supplicated.
Apes together, strong, he said.
Apes together, strong, Caesar repeated. Now go. Find thick forest beyond the mountain, away from humans.
Koba nodded. He glanced at Rocket’s band. They fidgeted, but with a look from Caesar they fell in line.
We go, Koba signed, and he moved to leave. The others followed. Soon they were out of sight. Wearily, Caesar went down to organize the move. They all thought they had just won an important victory, but he felt in his bones that they were in more danger than ever. This was only the start.
* * *
Phillips met them when they arrived back at the base. He didn’t look happy.
Corbin wasn’t happy either.
“What happened to the air support?” he demanded. “The nets, the traps, the guys who were supposed to put them down after we found them?”
“I’m sure you were informed when it was pulled,” Phillips said. “Plans were changed. We have to be flexible. I had every expectation that you had enough resources to succeed in your mission. To bring back at least one lousy ape.”
“You weren’t there,” Corbin said. “You didn’t see them. If you had let us take in our AR15s we might have had a chance. Or if you called in—”
“The goal is live capture,” Phillips said, interrupting him.
“They’re monsters!”
“They are not,” Clancy said. “They’re amazing.”
“It doesn’t matter what they are,” Phillips said. “For the moment, at least, we’re shut down.”
“Why?” Corbin demanded.
“You don’t need to know that,” Phillips said. “Just stand down and wait for further orders.”
This, Malakai realized, is where they kill us.
15
The streets were nearly empty as Talia drove toward the hospital. She felt as if she was in a demilitarized zone. Garbage was collecting on sidewalks and streets. Wrecked and abandoned cars littered the freeway. What people she did see were almost shadows, scurrying in the periphery of her vision.
Just for the hell of it, she decided to try a pharmacy. It would be quicker, and as a doctor she could order the meds right there. But when she pulled into to the nearest one, she saw that the windows had been smashed in, and the lights were off. Suddenly feeling in danger, she wheeled out of the parking lot and hurried on toward the hospital.
She found the National Guard turning cars back more than four blocks out. A soldier waved for her to stop, then walked over.
“I’m a doctor,” she told the man, and showed him her ID.
“You can’t drive in,” he said. “There’s a back entrance for doctors. I can walk you there.”
She found a place to park the car, and then walked back to the guardsman, wondering what the hell he meant by “a back entrance.” Soon enough, however, she understood.
The entire block surrounding the hospital had been cordoned off, and guardsmen were busy putting up chain-link fencing. A huge line of people was being herded through an entrance in the fence into a sort of tent city that had sprung up like magic in the seven hours since she had left. Outside, buses were pulling up, from which people disembarked. A lot of them didn’t seem to be doing so willingly, as the guards had to prod them—and in some cases drag them along.
“What’s going on?” she asked her escort, more or less rhetorically.
“We’re setting up a quarantine here,” he said.
He took her to the doctor’s entrance, which was guarded by two men with rifles. They were wearing hazmat gear.
Inside the hospital it was chaos, as every available space was being made ready for the sick. Waiting rooms, offices, the lunch room, the chapel—any place vacant. She felt like she was in a war movie, except almost everyone here had the same problem, and it wasn’t a human enemy.
It was the retrovirus.
However, those sick with the virus were no longer being routed to the lobby of the emergency room. That was packed with people, and a glance told her that most of them were in critical or near-critical condition. Gunshot wounds, stabbings, head trauma, broken bones—more than ever, she felt like she was in a MASH unit.
The impression was completed when a middle-aged African-American man in army scrubs gestured toward her. She noticed than that there were several other people she didn’t know, all of them wearing similar dress.
“You there,” he demanded. “Who are you?”
“I’m Dr. Kosar,” she said. “I belong here. Who are you?”
“Dr. Kosar,” he said, more quietly. “Sorry for the tone. Thank God you’re here. I’m Captain McWilliams. I’ve been put in the charge of this ER. I have my hands full, as you can see.”
“I’m not on shift until ten,” she said. “I…” She looked again at the dying all around her. David would be fine for an hour or two. Then she would slip off with a course of antibiotics.
“Yeah,” she said. “Never mind. Let me get scrubbed.”
The next couple of hours were a nightmare. Triage consisted of deciding who she could treat, and who was beyond help. She had thought herself hardened to this kind of thing, but this was a whole other level.
McWilliams didn’t seem fazed. He was a more-than-competent doctor but, more importantly, he knew how to command. She suspected that, as an army surgeon, he had worked in this sort of chaos before.
* * *
After a length of time she couldn’t even begin to measure, Talia found herself becoming weaker, more tired by the moment. She realized that she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in hours, so she took a break and had an energy bar from one of the machines. It was the last one. She tried to drink some water, but after half a cup found she couldn’t get any more down.
Remembering David, she picked up some antibiotics. Their stores were nearly depleted, but there still was some cephalexin and ampicillin. She felt guilty for taking it, but David deserved treatment as much as anyone. She checked her phone and realized that it had been the better part of four hours since she had left him. That wasn’t good. If she had missed something—and there was a chance she had, given the tissue-damage in the vicinity of his gunshot wound—then he might be in trouble. She had patched him up in poor lighting, in her bathtub…
But there was nothing to do about it now. So she went to the lavatory and then splashed some water on her face.
In the mirror, she saw a dribble of pink, just beneath her nose. She reached up and touched it with her index finger.
It came away red.
“Well,” she said to the image in the mirror.
In the back of her mind, she had known this was coming. She had kept it back the way everyone did when confronted with mortality, by imagining she was the one who couldn’t get it, she was the one who wouldn’t die.
She closed her eyes. There was still so much to do, she thought. David was counting on her, Captain McWilliams was counting on her, and the desperate people in the next room were counting on her.
She opened her eyes, wet a paper towel and wiped her face again. She stuffed some wadded toilet paper up her nose and
as soon as she was outside, she put on a mask.
Then she found Captain McWilliams.
“I have to go,” she said. “I’ll be back in about two hours, I promise.”
He nodded.
“Get a little rest,” he said. “You look tired.”
“Thanks,” she said. She hurriedly grabbed her things and started back through the hospital toward the physician’s doorway. She felt dizzy, and wondered if she would be able to drive. But she had to try.
If she was very careful, kept contact with him to a minimum, she could help David without infecting him.
Then she felt an itching in her sinuses, and started to run, hoping to make it outside, but she was still fifty feet from the door when the sneeze tore out of her.
One of the guards looked over. He was wearing a hazmat suit, without the headgear.
“Excuse me,” she said, pretending to scratch her forehead, hoping her hand would cover her face.
“Ma’am,” the young guardsman said.
She nodded and tried to keep going, but he placed himself in front of her.
“Ma’am,” he said, “I’m going to have to ask you to stop there.”
“I’m a doctor,” she said, tapping her ID.
“Yes, ma’am. But you appear to have viral symptoms. My orders are not to let anyone through this door unless I’m confident they’re clean.”
“You can’t just hold me against my will,” she said. “I haven’t done anything.”
“You are an active carrier, ma’am.” He sounded sure of it. “We are now under a state and federal quarantine and isolation order. You may appeal this—”
“Appeal it when?” she said, and she realized she was shouting. She took a deep breath. “Look,” she said. “I have a friend who has a gunshot wound. He needs antibiotics, and I’m taking him some. Then I’ll be right back. You can check with Captain McWilliams in the ER.”
The young man shook his head.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it doesn’t much matter what he says. Even if he gave me a direct order, I couldn’t let you through this door.”
As he spoke, two more guards arrived.
