by Greg Keyes
It is a little later when they come for him. As they take him from the cage, he looks back. He sees letters there, and now he remembers how Mary taught him to spell his name. K-O-B-A.
Will can read the letters. The cage tells Will his name.
And now he understands why that bothers him. Because he has dreamt of letters—not the letters of his own name, but those that Jacobs had on the rectangle around his neck. The letters told people who Jacobs was. And those letters are clenched in Koba’s mind as in a fist, along with the face and the sound of his name.
They take him to another room, and this one has toys like he remembers from the place where his mother was. There are two button boards on the wall. He stares at them, remembering. Then he begins to play with one. Outside of the glass, the humans are watching something.
“You’ve done this before,” Will says.
Koba signs, Yes.
“And you sign,” he says. “I knew you were a good choice.”
“Aside from the fact that he attacked us,” Franklin says.
“Enjoy yourself, Koba,” Will says. “I’ll be back later.”
The humans leave him to play.
He tires of the button board, because no one is asking him questions. He finds another game he remembers. It involves circles with holes in them that fit onto sticks. When he gets bored of that he sees something else that looks familiar, a flat dark rectangle. He touches it, and a spot appears. Intrigued, he begins drawing patterns. He draws some angry bananas.
He hears a sound, and from the corner of his eye he sees Jacobs enter the room beyond the glass. He isn’t wearing a rectangle with letters on it, but Koba remembers. Carefully, he writes them on the screen: J-A-C-O-B-S.
Then he glares at Jacobs. He wants Jacobs to know he is thinking about him.
But Jacobs smiles.
After that, they make him play many games. They all seem pleased.
* * *
Koba is back in his cage when the noises begin. At first he thinks it’s just the caterpillars getting upset, but then he hears humans screaming and glass breaking. He looks out and sees that some of the caterpillars have escaped, and are freeing the rest, smashing the buttons that control the cages. He hears the latch on his cage click, and he gives it a push.
It swings slowly open.
Carefully he creeps out of his cage, uncertain what is going on. He peers around the corner and sees one of them, standing like a human. Giving orders. Commanding. And he realizes that these are not dumb caterpillars. These are not humans. These are apes, like him. And their leader…
He feels a strange pull inside, like the invisible thing that brings him back to the ground when he leaps. This is an ape fighting the humans. Fighting Jacobs. Tearing apart the things Jacobs has made.
And now he is torn. He wants to be part of whatever this ape is doing. He wants to help him. But he wants Jacobs more, and so he turns away to search for him.
In the chaos, he cannot find Jacobs. The caterpillars are running everywhere, breaking everything. But a strange thing happens—the chaos begins to become more still, and Koba realizes that the apes who freed everyone are gradually taking leadership of the caterpillars. And they are leading them outside.
The pull strengthens. The leader has a plan. He is going somewhere. Somewhere outside. In that moment Koba understands that he wants more than revenge. He wants…
He doesn’t know the thought or word or sign for what he wants. But he knows that this leader, this ape who freed him, is the key. So he turns from seeking Jacobs, and instead follows him—follows Caesar.
He does not regret his choice.
* * *
Koba swung up into the nearest tree and glared at the approaching humans. They saw him now. The gunfire trailed off.
“That’s the leader!” one of them shouted.
Koba knew that wasn’t the truth, but he liked to hear it. And it meant the humans were still falling for the trick. So there was only one thing left to do.
The survivors clustered around him, their presence giving him strength. He knew they were with him.
With a defiant shriek, he leapt toward the humans. Their guns made thunder.
24
Corbin pulled the Humvee to a stop and Malakai got out.
“Everyone quiet,” he said, holding up his hand.
The forest stretched out into the valley below them. A helicopter was making its way along what must be the perimeter not far away, spraying tear gas. But as they watched, it suddenly veered and began moving down the valley.
“See?” Corbin said. “They’re calling it in. That’s because they’re on the western perimeter.”
“They’re wasting their airpower, then,” Malakai said. “Listen.”
Corbin shut up, and a little frown appeared on his face.
“What?”
“Follow me,” Malakai said. “And whatever you do, don’t start shooting unless I tell you to. If they know we’re here too soon, this won’t work.”
He led them to a line of rocks just next to and overlooking the upper end of the valley.
“I hear them,” Clancy whispered.
“Shh,” Malakai admonished. He could already see movement in the trees, not in one spot, but everywhere. A thuttering, thumping sound came from woods, almost like a cattle stampede. The limbs of the trees began thrashing.
And then they burst into the clearing—first a chimp, running furiously, one hand gripping what looked like a spear. Just behind him were the gorillas, their knuckles tamping out the beat of the charge. Flores raised his rifle, but Malakai pushed it back down.
Now chimps and orangutans were sailing by overhead, carrying wounded and infants, and without doubt some of them were armed with spears. He remembered being thirteen, and holding a spear, surrounded by children holding spears and clubs. He remembered the flame spitting from the machine-guns of the mercenaries as they charged with those crude weapons, confident that the bullets could not hurt them.
But the shamans had lied, of course, and they fell by dozens. He didn’t remember how it ended—only later, being carried by his uncle once more into the shelter of the forest.
Only when he judged that most of the apes had gone by did he raise his rifle and take aim at a young, straggling orangutan.
His shot went true, the tranquilizer dart striking it in the neck. He worked the bolt action and put in another dart as Corbin and Flores began to shoot, as well. Malakai aimed and knocked another one down, this time a limping gorilla. A chimp traveling beside him noticed, and her gaze flashed to him.
Flores shot at the chimp, but she skipped behind a tree and darted off through the branches. The gorilla, looking confused, went a few more steps before slumping against a rock, panting.
Then the last of them were past.
“That’s six,” Corbin said. “That’s good enough. I’m calling in the strike.”
* * *
Higher up the slope, the forest began to break up, and Caesar brought them to a halt. They were clear of the stinging gas, and the helicopter was gone. They had succeeded, for now, and his troop needed rest. Then they would go over the mountain and keep going. His dream—of living in his beloved woods, where Will used to bring him—was over.
He wondered if Koba had survived. He hoped so.
He heard excited Waaa!-calls from downslope, the kind that signified danger. He dropped from his branch and went to see what the matter was.
It was Cornelia.
Humans, she signed, pointing downslope. Hiding. Shot Herman with sleepy gun, shot others, too.
Caesar felt his belly tighten. Then he began singling out apes.
Maurice came down.
You need orangs, to carry. Herman heavy.
Caesar nodded, and with six orangs, three gorillas, and five chimps, he started back downslope.
He noticed that Cornelia was with them, and motioned her back.
I know where, she signed, defiantly.
He realized sh
e was right, and he couldn’t waste time arguing with her or putting her in her place. So he gave her a curt nod as they continued on.
* * *
Corbin took the walkie-talkie from his belt.
“Stop,” Clancy said.
Malakai turned, but he already knew what was happening. He had known last night, for that matter.
Corbin didn’t turn until he heard the gun cock.
Clancy was pointing a pistol at him.
“They deserve their chance,” she said. “We had ours. They deserve theirs. Don’t you see? They’re not just apes anymore. They aren’t human either. They’re something… different.”
“I’m just calling the capture team.”
“No,” she said. “You’re not. We’ve live-captured all the apes Gen Sys needs. There’s no need to capture all of them for what they want. You said ‘strike.’ You’re going to bomb the shit out of them, aren’t you? That was always the plan.”
“Smart girl,” Corbin said. “But you’re being real stupid right now. Drop that thing, and I’ll forget about it.”
“They haven’t done anything,” she said. “They could have killed us. But they didn’t.”
“They started the plague,” Flores said.
“No,” she said. “Gen Sys did. They’re just cleaning up their mess. Call the strike somewhere else—anywhere. In a week no one will know or care about these apes. Then they can survive or not, on their own terms.”
“Put the gun down, Clancy,” Corbin said.
At the moment, several apes broke into the clearing. Clancy’s hands were already shaking, and now her eyes shifted. Corbin drew his pistol and shot her. She looked vastly surprised and backed into a tree.
Corbin lifted the walkie-talkie with the other hand.
“HQ, we have the flock, repeat, we have the flock. Outside strike radius from these coordinates, running north. Will advise when clear.”
Malakai had never felt so calm, so at peace in all of his life as when he drew his pistol and shot Corbin between the eyes. Flores still hadn’t figured out what was going on when the next bullet took him out of the bright world. The next was for Kyung, who almost got his rifle up in time.
Then Stillman shot, and a white heat exploded in Malakai’s gut. He turned a little and shot Stillman. He fired at Ackers as he felt two more bullets strike him. Ackers fell—that left only Byrd.
But now he couldn’t raise his gun arm, and Byrd had a bead on his head.
Ah, well, he thought.
But then a gun fired, and it didn’t belong to Byrd. He saw Clancy, sitting with her back against a tree, her pistol raised, breathing in great heaving gasps. Byrd dropped without a word.
“Thank you,” Clancy told him. “It was… the right thing.”
“Yes,” Malakai gasped, looking with mild disbelief at the damage done to his body. It wasn’t only gorillas who looked confused when they were shot. He had seen plenty of people who didn’t know they were dead.
Then Malakai saw the apes approaching.
“You have to stop the strike,” Clancy said weakly. “You…”
Her arm dropped and her chin fell to rest on her chest. She took one more breath.
Malakai looked up into the eyes of the chimpanzee, its strange, green-flecked gaze, so full of life and intelligence.
“If you can understand me,” he said, “You need to get your troop out of here, and go fast. There’s going to be fire, do you understand? A lot of fire. I can give you a little more time. Hurry.”
The chimp held his gaze for a moment, and he was suddenly back on Mount Virunga, staring into the eyes of his first gorilla. Into the eyes of every ape, every man he had ever watched die.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
The ape knelt by him.
“Thank you,” it croaked.
For a moment he was so stunned that he couldn’t say anything.
“For God’s sake,” he finally gasped. “Run!”
And with no more hesitation, the chimpanzee ran. The other apes followed, carrying their drugged comrades.
25
From the cover of the trees, Caesar glanced back at the dead and dying humans. He had really begun to despair, to believe that maybe Will, Charles, and Caroline were the only ones in the world who weren’t monsters. But now…
He didn’t know what exactly had happened back there, yet one thing was clear. Two humans—humans he had never met, and did not know—had just given their own lives so that he and his troop might survive. Why they had done so he would probably never know.
But he did not intend to squander the opportunity they had provided.
Maurice, with his long, carrying call, had roused the troop to readiness before he arrived. They only awaited him to tell them which direction, and soon they again were in full motion, as they had been not so long ago. He knew they were tired, that many had little left to give, but he pressed them to follow him, and when that wasn’t enough, he left Maurice at the front and went to the back, where Cornelia and others toiled to keep the wounded and drugged in motion.
He heard the sound long before he saw it—a long hushed tone, growing in pitch. Urging Cornelia to keep everyone moving, he hurried to the upper branches. There he saw something coming. It did not look like a helicopter—it was sleek, like a fish. It was distant, but it was turning toward him, coming from the direction they had come.
* * *
Panting, Malaki took out his walkie-talkie.
“HQ,” he said. “Be advised. We are not clear yet. Experiencing difficulty.”
“What sort of difficulty?” the device crackled back.
“Flat tire.”
“Well, high-tail it on foot,” the voice demanded. “Where’s Corbin?”
“Will advise when we’re clear,” Malakai said.
“The drones are on their way. Get clear, now. Corbin, answer!”
It was getting harder to breath, and his head felt very light.
“Will advise when we’re clear,” Malakai said again.
He propped himself against a tree and stared out at the wide, beautiful valley, at the sky and hills. He felt the wind start to blow through him.
“Clear,” he murmured. The walkie-talkie dropped from his hand.
Clear. And he was.
* * *
Caesar bit back a shriek as the first plume of flame erupted, engulfing the tops of the redwoods, spewing into the air and falling in long globs and streamers back into the forest. The trees instantly became cyclopean torches. It happened just about where they had stopped; without the warning of the human, his troop would now be burning.
The fish-thing flew on, not directly toward them but a bit to the side.
Another monstrous explosion sent shock waves rippling through the leaves and branches in every direction, and Caesar saw what was happening. The flying thing was making it impossible for them to turn this way or that; it was making an arc of burning trees which would eventually be a circle. They would have to outrun it, be ahead of where the circle closed.
Caesar didn’t wait to see more. The thing was coming fast, leaving death behind it.
The forest shuddered under the force of another explosion as he caught up to the troop. His gaze flickered frantically about, trying to remember if they had been in this place before. He couldn’t allow himself to become disoriented.
A glance back showed flames visible through the trees now.
Then he saw what he was looking for, the flicker of light on water, and he remembered where he was. Bounding ahead, he turned the troop. They were starting to panic as the explosions grew louder, but at the sound of his voice most of the others seemed to steady. They scrambled downhill and into the river below. It wasn’t as deep as he had hoped, not nearly deep enough to save them if they were hit straight on. But it was better than nothing.
Stay in the water, he told Maurice, and then once more he sprinted to the back. Where Cornelia was.
By the time Caesar reached Cornelia
again, he could feel the heat from the nearest flames. Squirrels, deer, and animals he didn’t recognize were running past, fleeing for their lives.
He waved on the stragglers, ashamed of the deep part of him that wanted to leave them, to grab Cornelia and make her flee. But they were all his troop, and all his responsibility, and he knew he wouldn’t—couldn’t—abandon any of them.
The rearmost stragglers reached the water’s edge. He grabbed Herman’s arm and started dragging him deeper into the stream. The gorilla wasn’t asleep, but he was having trouble using his arms and legs, a feeling Caesar remembered all too well from having been tranquilized, himself.
Suddenly everything was yellow, and for a single, suspended moment there was an impossible stillness as if he, Herman, Cornelia—all of them—were embedded in amber, like the bug Will had once shown him.
And then the wind came, like the sun breathing on them, searing them and slapping them down in the same instant. He smelled his own fur as it singed.
He shoved Herman underwater, though there was only just barely enough to cover him. The others were all staring at the billowing orange maelstrom above them, so he continued, pushing them down, one by one. Cornelia saw what he was doing, and she began helping him.
Then the fire began raining down on them, and there was no time. Caesar pushed Cornelia into the water, covering her with his body.
* * *
Dreyfus stared at the blinking phone, wondering why Patel hadn’t answered it. Then he remembered that Patel was dead, that what remained of the city government was holed up here, in the National Guard Armory. That the city was tearing itself to pieces outside.
He picked up the phone.
“Dreyfus,” he said.
“It took them long enough to find you,” the voice at the other end said.
“Who is this?”
“It’s Phillips.”
“Right,” Dreyfus said, wearily. “What do you want?”
“It’s done,” Phillips said.
“I thought I told you to go away.”
“I’m going,” Phillips said. “I just thought you would like to know.”
