Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

by Alex Irvine

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  51

  52

  53

  54

  55

  56

  57

  58

  59

  60

  61

  62

  63

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Dawn of the Planet of the Apes: The Official Movie Novelization

  Print edition ISBN: 9781783292271

  E-book edition ISBN: 9781783292288

  Published by Titan Books

  A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd

  144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UP

  First edition: July 2014

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Dawn of the Planet of the Apes ™ & © 2014 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  To Lindsay, Emma, Ian, and Avi, who are my favorite apes

  1

  Thunder rolled overhead and a hard rain fell through the upper canopy of the great trees, dripping and sheeting through their leaves into the shadowy space that stretched between the lowest branches—still twenty times an ape’s height—and the ground. Caesar sat perfectly still, ignoring the rain and the thunder. Storms had never frightened him, but some of the other apes, raised under roofs and inside walls, had not lost their fear even after all the… years, was the human word… that had passed.

  But more and more of them were being born out here in the forest where they were meant to be. Free. His son Blue Eyes—sitting beside him on the branch and trying without success to remain motionless—was one. He looked to Blue Eyes, who felt his father’s glance and went still again.

  They waited.

  A rustle in the trees signaled the approach of a scout. The ape stopped three trunks over, his hunting paint visible in the gloom, and made a series of hand signals.

  Caesar nodded and looked down, to where Koba waited at the head of a troop of apes. All were armed with spears or knifes. Koba himself carried a harpoon, brought back from a foraging trip after the humans had died.

  Koba looked up, his scarred face and milky eye marking him as a warrior. He had suffered much, and his suffering had made him savage.

  Caesar gestured.

  Move. That way.

  Koba led his troop forward.

  Caesar looked to his son again, then looked around. Another troop of apes, waiting in the trees nearby, watched.

  He raised an arm and thrust it forward.

  Without a sound, thirty apes sprang from their branches, catching and swinging through the treetops. On the ground below, Koba’s troop surged ahead, matching their pace.

  The hunt was on. His son close behind him, Caesar secured his own spear, leaped, and swung at the head of his apes, a fierce glee building inside him.

  * * *

  None of them screeched or hooted, and to the elk herd that had paused to drink, the sounds of their passage through the canopy were masked by the downpour. The animals didn’t react as Caesar’s troop slowed and crept along branches toward the edge of the open area near the stream. Across the meadow he saw Koba’s apes moving slowly along the ground, up to the edge of the trees.

  He waited.

  Koba searched the trees, found Caesar, and nodded.

  Caesar stood on his branch and let loose a mighty battle cry, a scream that tore through the pounding of the rain as the rest of his apes joined in. The elk panicked, looking up to see the apes coming at them out of the trees. They stampeded across the stream toward the protection of the trees on the other side of the meadow… just as Caesar had planned.

  Koba’s apes sprang up in front of them, breaking into small groups to cut off escape and separate the old and the slow from the main body of the herd. Elk could kill apes, but only if the apes did not fight together. Apes together strong, Caesar thought, remembering when he had first been able to recognize that thought… before, in the shelter.

  Before the humans had died.

  The elk began to scatter, the main body of the herd thundering upstream. Several smaller groups were driven into heavy thickets, or water deep enough to slow them down. Apes struck at these first, drawing blood and desperate trumpeting cries.

  Caesar swung along the edge of the trees. He looked back to make sure his son was with him. Below them, three elk charged into heavy undergrowth. Blue Eyes let go of his branch, about to drop, but Caesar stopped him with a grunt. Blue Eyes caught the branch again, hanging by one hand, spear in the other. He was too eager, Caesar thought.

  Wait, he signaled, and he paused to listen. Rustles and the snap of small twigs came from the undergrowth. He peered carefully into the tangle, trying to pick out where the elk had gone, the better to drop from the trees and finish one of them.

  He looked back to Blue Eyes again… but his son was gone. At the same time another smell reached Caesar.

  Not elk.

  Blue Eyes was on the ground, stalking toward the thicket, body low and spear held ready.

  Caesar recognized the scent just as the bear lunged from the thicket. The young ape turned to run, but the bear was too close. With a swipe of its great paw it knocked him tumbling away over the slippery ground. His spear was lost in the frenzy of violence.

  The bear stood on its hind legs and roared over Caesar’s son, ready to strike the killing blow. Caesar flung himself from the branch, dropping feet-first and hitting the bear high on its back. It weighed as much as ten Caesars, but the force of his falling knocked it to all fours. Before it could react he sprang back up, wheeling around a low branch and throwing himself at it again. This time his feet hit it just as it rose to its hind legs, and again it was knocked off balance.

  He landed in front of it, and gestured with one hand for Blue Eyes to stay back. With the other hand he unslung his own spear and l
eveled it at the bear.

  It lowered its head and growled.

  Caesar threw his head back and screamed, a challenge to the bear… and also a call for help.

  He jabbed at the beast, keeping it away from his wounded son. At the same time he tried to force it toward the edge of a nearby rocky slope, with a smaller stream at the bottom. The bear faced him, swiping every time the spear point came close. Caesar moved to the side, staying close enough that the bear could not go around him and get to Blue Eyes.

  If help did not arrive, he would have to try to kill it himself. There had been more bears since the humans died, and Caesar knew killing it was a dangerous task, even for many apes. By himself…

  But then there was Koba, bounding along the upper edge of the sloping stream bank.

  Caesar glanced away from the bear, and it nearly cost him his life. The animal lunged forward, arms spread wide in the attempt to drag Caesar in. He would not survive that embrace. He leaped back, but the bear pressed him.

  There was only one thing to do.

  Caesar set his feet and charged forward, spear leveled. The bear reared up to meet him.

  At that moment Koba jumped out from the high ground, putting all of his weight behind his harpoon. The steel tip plunged deep into the bear’s back, and Koba rocked the shaft back and forth, searching for the creature’s heart, his toes gripping the bear’s fur. Caesar angled his own thrust upward, driving his spear into its belly.

  The beast thrashed in blind agony, crashing over a fallen tree and tumbling with the two apes down the slope to splash into the shallows of the feeder creek below. Caesar’s head hit a rock on the way down, stunning him.

  * * *

  When he could look up again, he saw the bear on its side, dead. Its blood dripped from the broken shaft of Caesar’s spear. Koba stood near its head, one hand on his harpoon. He looked down at the dead creature with a look of satisfaction.

  Chasing elk was hunting.

  Facing a bear was battle.

  Caesar reached out and draped an arm over Koba, who returned the embrace. They had seen many battles together, but none closer than this.

  Then Koba bent to pick up Blue Eyes’ spear, which had tangled in the bear’s feet as it fell. The stone tip was broken off and lost.

  Caesar raced up the embankment and went to his son, angry at Blue Eyes’ disobedience yet concerned at his wounds. Blue Eyes lowered his head when he saw his father coming. Caesar parted Blue Eyes’ fur to see how badly he was hurt. Blue Eyes jerked away, embarrassed, as more apes arrived through the trees and on the ground. His son’s behavior angered Caesar, but he held himself back.

  The hunt was over. The apes had brought down several elk… and they would return with the bear, as well.

  2

  Caesar had worried that the bear might have killed the horses. It had happened before.

  This time it had not, and he rode now at the head of his troop. They followed the banks of a river, with the giant trees looming in the thick mist on both sides. Around him were other apes on horseback, his closest and most trusted friends. Rocket, who had also survived from the shelter, and who had been Caesar’s rival before becoming his friend. Ash, Rocket’s son, near Blue Eyes in age. And Koba himself. Next to Koba came two apes who were close to him, Grey and Stone. They dragged a sled made from boughs.

  It had taken several apes to drag the bear to open ground and onto the sled, but it was not a prize they would leave behind.

  They had brought down five elk before Caesar’s call for help had drawn the troop away from the herd. Those lay across the backs of horses, which were led by apes. The rest of the troop stretched out behind, walking on two legs.

  Caesar watched his son touch the ragged gashes that ran across his chest. Sensing his father’s attention, Blue Eyes looked up.

  You must learn to think before you act, Caesar signed.

  Blue Eyes looked away. Again Caesar was angry, and again he held it back. The boy had learned, or he had not. If this lesson had not taught him anything, neither would his father’s anger.

  Caesar turned away, his watchful gaze sweeping the tree lines on either side of the river. They were about to pass a human ruin—the one closest to the apes’ home. On top of a tall steel pole, entwined with vines, was a large orange ball. It had numbers on it. Caesar had learned his numbers a long time ago, in Will’s house: 76, the ball said. He had seen many places like this one, where humans brought their cars. Will had brought him snacks from inside them, but those snacks had all been gone for a long time. Now the inside of that…

  Gas station. That’s what Will had called them.

  The inside of that gas station would not even keep out rain anymore. Apes avoided it, as they avoided most other places where humans had once gathered in large numbers. The forest was their home.

  The troop crossed a shallow, rocky stream that fed into the river just beyond the gas station. Then the ground started to rise. Ahead of them, wreathed in fog, was the base of a high ridge. Caesar rode a little faster, but not so fast that the walking apes had to drop to all fours. It was important to them that they were able to stay on two feet.

  They climbed through the fog. It swallowed the world, baffling the apes’ ears and filling their noses. The ground beneath their feet and the closest boulders and trees were the only things they could see. The rain stopped when they turned away from the river, and around them the forest was quiet… until he heard the sound of a small waterfall ahead. That low rumble, signaling the approach to home, was one of Caesar’s favorite sounds.

  Cornelia would be there.

  The fog began to clear as they climbed the base of the ridge and felt a wind coming down from above. It always did, late in the day. Caesar tilted his head back and sniffed. The wind brought the smell of just-after-rain, and with it the scent of their fellow apes. His horse clip-clopped out of the fog and Caesar smiled.

  He always did when he saw what the apes had built together.

  3

  Their home, which lay behind a wall of timbers and a heavy gate, spiraled around the flanks of the mountain. It was a place made for them.

  Apes looked over the walls and hung from the timbers higher up the mountain, hooting out excited welcomes as they watched the troop approach. The noise increased as news of the hunting party’s return spread.

  Caesar and the other older apes had spent their lives in human cities, human buildings, human laboratories. This place was unlike any of them. There was a central open area anchored by a large fire pit. Around it scattered clusters of huts and lean-tos followed the natural shape of the mountain’s slopes, continuing along the edge of a steep canyon bridged by fallen trees. The sound of the river rushing through the bottom of the canyon rose and fell with the seasons. The torrent was high now, too high to cross even on horseback, the rocks on either side slick with spray and moss.

  The village was united by a network of paths along the ground and timbers in the air, running from higher slopes to the branches of larger trees that grew within the walls. Those trees, which served as lookout posts and homes, were connected to each other by woven grass ropes and swinging bridges.

  As he always did when he surveyed the village, Caesar felt a quiet pride at what the apes had done together. Chimp and orangutan, gorilla and bonobo and gibbon, all turned to see what their leader had brought them. The younger apes ran and scampered in excited circles, dodging too close to the horses until Koba signed and shouted for them to get back. Then they chased each other, the thrill of the occasion too much for them to handle.

  The troop arrived in the center of the village, near the fire pit. Gorillas knuckle-loped over, seeing the elk and the bear. Two of them could carry an elk or a full-grown brown bear. Once, on the other side of this mountain, Caesar had killed a smaller black bear. The gorilla with him had draped the dead creature over its shoulders and walked back to the camp as easily as if it had been carrying a baby. Caesar was stronger than most chimps—and any human—bu
t a gorilla could tear him limb from limb. They were fearsome when their tempers were hot, though that seldom happened.

  Maurice hooted and grumbled at the scrambling children. They looked over at him, standing next to a stone wall, and the old orangutan gestured for them to come back and pay attention. The young ones did so, then settled down and picked up flat stones and pieces of charred wood. Maurice pointed at the wall, picking out each letter of the words carved there.

  To help the children, and those of the older apes who had never learned to read, pictograms accompanied the words. In the first, two apes faced each other, teeth bared. A harsh diagonal line slashed through both of them. The translation was written next to the picture.

  APE WILL NOT KILL APE.

  Caesar had not wanted to use so human a symbol, but it was better than any he could think of. An open book with the alphabet showing on its pages appeared to one side of the second line, and on the other side there was a clenched ape fist.

  KNOWLEDGE IS POWER.

  The same symbol was repeated at the end of the third line, but below the open book lay a careful carving of the four kinds of great apes, arms linked together.

  APES TOGETHER STRONG.

  Every young ape learned how to write. It was another human thing Caesar had not wanted to copy, but writing was a powerful tool no matter who it came from. Apes were stronger for it. Maurice, a natural teacher, kept the children focused on each letter in turn. The older ones, impatient, were given whole words to copy.

  Caesar thought back to the first time he had seen Maurice sign. At that moment he realized he wasn’t the only one in the shelter who could do it, and knowing it had given him hope. More than any other ape who had fought with him in those days, Maurice was his trusted friend.

  Two gorillas pulled the bear off the sled. Near them, Blue Eyes got down from his horse, slowly, watching the gorillas carry the bear away to be butchered. Ash skipped through the crowd and grinned at Blue Eyes’ wounds.

  He never would’ve gotten me, Ash signed. But I’m quicker than you.

  Blue Eyes shoved him away, but he too was smiling. Ash shoved back, playfully—then both of them stopped when Rocket came around from the other side of the sled and signed at them.