by Alex Irvine
41
Carver was so far past his boiling point that he was practically steaming out the ears. All he’d done, keeping the trucks running, making sure Lord Architect Ape-Lover got all of his gear up into the mountains, busting his ass trying to help get water running and power on for all the people in the Colony who still thought they were better than him… and he was kicked off the island. Because that’s what the lead monkey wanted.
“Bullshit,” he said, for maybe the tenth time since he and Foster had left. And speaking of bullshit, Foster was treating him like he was the bad guy, too. He’d thought they were friends, but now he knew Foster was just another monkey-lover.
“Watch,” he said as they trudged out of the woods to where the trucks were parked. “You guys go up there and get that dam working, and the next thing you know a million monkeys are going to show up and take everything they want. They’ll see how the power works, and—” He made a throat-cutting gesture. “Then you’ll know I was right.”
Foster didn’t say anything. He held onto Carver’s arm until they reached the lead truck. Then he opened the door and pulled the keys out of the ignition. Carver limped past him and sat in the front seat. Foster shut the door.
“See you tomorrow, asshole,” he said through the open window, taunting Carver with the keys. “Enjoy your stay.”
Carver flipped him off. Foster just smirked and pocketed the keys as he walked away toward the camp.
Carver sat for a minute, considering the possibilities. He could hot-wire the truck in sixty seconds flat, and be back in San Francisco by nightfall. Without Malcolm, he could get the people good and worked up. He knew there were plenty of guns over at the old Navy base. It wouldn’t take much to get folks picking them up.
The only downside was that he would look bad for running out on everyone. No way was he going to be the bad guy in this situation. Maybe there was a sole-survivor angle to play. He could pretend the apes had killed them all and he had gotten away… but could he make the story stick? Probably, at least for a while. But if he raised an army and they headed back up the mountain only to find Malcolm and the monkeys still one big happy family, Carver knew he’d be in a shitstorm of trouble.
It was almost worth trying. Almost. He put the plan in his back pocket for the time being. After all, he had twenty-four hours to decide whether or not to do it. The other thing was that if trouble really did break out, and he was gone, he would feel like a jerk for having bailed on the humans. They might be monkey-lovers, but they were still his species. He couldn’t quite bring himself to run out on them, even if they were treating him like some kind of psycho just because he didn’t trust the same monkeys that had started a plague and killed most of the human race.
It’s like nobody has any common sense, he thought.
He climbed into the back of the truck so he could stretch out his bum leg. At first he’d thought it was broken for sure. Ellie had said there was no displaced fracture, and Carver was already feeling a little better. It hurt like hell, but it could hold his weight. That would come in handy if he had to make a run for it. He propped himself on a jump seat and got out some jerky and his canteen.
Looking at the canteen, he thought, If I hadn’t gone to fill you up, none of this would have happened.
Except it would have, sooner or later. The apes weren’t just going to stay in their dens forever, any more than the humans were going to hide behind the Colony’s walls. Contact was inevitable. So, Carver thought, was conflict.
That was the thought uppermost in his mind when he heard the clip-clop of horses’ hooves hitting stone. He craned around to look out the window and saw three apes on horseback. Leaning closer to see if he recognized any of them, Carver got a chill when one of the apes looked right at him. It was the one-eyed one, the one who seemed to feel the same way about humans as Carver did about apes.
The one-eyed chimp looked surprised to see a human in the truck. He looked at Carver like he was meat—or worse, some kind of bug.
What did I ever do to you, monkey? Carver thought. But it wasn’t about him. That chimp had suffered at human hands. Nothing else could explain the loathing in its expression. It lingered on him for a long moment, and when it turned its head and rode on with its two pals, Carver exhaled a long breath, feeling like someone had just walked over his grave.
42
It was late in the afternoon, and they were up against a long list of stuff that had to be done, but Malcolm was starting to believe that they could do it—thanks to the apes. They dove in and worked hard, clearing debris from around the generators and the control panels, lugging heavy equipment and parts around, doing whatever Malcolm asked them to do. He was starting to wish he could have an ape crew on every job. They didn’t gripe and they had twice the strength, it seemed, of the humans he’d worked with before.
Maybe, even after all the strife and Carver’s idiocy, everything was going to work out. Even the golden light slanting in through the powerhouse’s tall, narrow windows bathed everything in an optimistic glow.
Alexander, displaying more interest in technical, hands-on concerns than Malcolm had seen before, was helping Foster replace some of the burned-out and corroded parts in the huge generator blocks that would take the static electricity from the turbines and make it into current that could be transmitted across the miles to San Francisco. Foster’s socket wrench slipped and he looked at it.
“Hey, pal,” he said to Alexander. “Looks like I stripped out this socket. Find me another one, the same size?”
“Sure,” Alexander said, heading for the tool closet at the other end of the control room.
The door at the top of the stairs slammed open and One-Eye barged in. Just like that, Malcolm’s good mood evaporated. One-Eye slung himself down the three-story stairs in seconds and accosted an ape dragging a broken pipe across the floor. He signed something and the ape pointed across the room, past Malcolm. One-Eye dropped to all fours and raced across the room. Alexander, gaping at the violence of his entry, didn’t get out of the way fast enough and One-Eye knocked him to the floor.
“Hey!” Alexander said. “What the—?”
One-Eye spun around and stalked back toward Alexander. Malcolm recognized that body language. What did you say? You talkin’ to me? He vaulted over the railing separating the control panels from the main floor and got there before One-Eye did, interposing himself between the enraged ape and his son. He could see it wasn’t going to do any good. Something had changed, and One-Eye wasn’t going to hold himself back. If he’d had his harpoon, Malcolm would already be spitted on it.
Malcolm looked around for some kind of weapon. All he found to hand was the socket wrench Alexander had dropped. He picked it up, knowing it wouldn’t be much help, but he was damned if he was going to sit there and let this ape come after his son.
Just as One-Eye got within arm’s reach, the orange mountain of the orangutan stepped between him and Malcolm. He stood, making no sign and not saying anything, while Malcolm pulled Alexander a little farther away.
One-Eye wasn’t about to take on the orangutan, Malcolm could see that. But he sure looked like he wanted to.
“Get Caesar,” he growled. “Want Caesar!” He spun around and roared at the ceiling. “CAESAAARRR!”
Silence fell as his roar echoed away. The apes near the access tunnel stood aside, making room for their leader to walk up to One-Eye. Caesar was in no hurry, but he was also ready to fight. Everything about his pace and his body language suggested a spring wound just one turn too tight. Malcolm pulled Alexander farther away, all the way back to the control panels. He could feel the violence in the air.
One-Eye glared and stood his ground as Caesar approached.
“You make us serve humans? he said. “They should serve apes!”
Caesar squared off with him, stopping inches away and standing up straight, shoulders thrown back and chest out. This was serious.
One-Eye wasn’t done.
“You
shame us!” he growled. Then he pointed at Caesar’s son, sullenly holding a long spool of cable at the far end of the room. “Shame your son!”
On the word son, One-Eye stabbed a finger into Caesar’s chest.
That was one more provocation than Caesar was prepared to tolerate. He sprang and tackled One-Eye to the ground, rolling with him and grappling across the steel grille floor. At first the other apes hooted and shrieked, enjoying the show, but very soon it became clear that this wasn’t an ordinary fight. Caesar and One-Eye were fighting as only old friends could fight—brutally, primally, with no quarter asked or given.
Malcolm had seen a video once, of chimpanzees hunting monkey. When they caught the monkeys, they twisted their limbs off and began to eat without bothering to kill them first. Malcolm wondered if this fight was going to end with one of them maimed. Or dead. They tore at each other with nails and teeth, gouging eyes, twisting joints. Then Caesar had a momentary advantage, and he started to pound One-Eye chimp-style, with both hands high in the air and falling one-two, one-two, as his whole body rose up and drove down, putting more weight behind each blow.
One-Eye struck back at first, but then his defenses were beaten down. Caesar pinned him down, squatting over One-Eye’s chest and beating the scarred ape with a savagery Malcolm hadn’t thought was in him.
What saved One-Eye’s life was fear. Everyone, human and ape, saw the moment when he stopped fighting and started cowering, hoping only to defend himself long enough for his opponent’s anger to burn itself out.
That fear registered with Caesar. For a moment it seemed to sharpen his fury. He reared up again, ready to deliver a killing blow… and stayed there, breathing hard, while One-Eye looked up at him, battered, making no attempt to escape or fight back.
Malcolm wanted to say something, but this wasn’t his fight. The apes had to sort out their own business, if they and humans were going to deal with each other reliably. Caesar panted over One-Eye, visibly fighting the urge to kill him. The other apes in the powerhouse watched, but not one of them made a move to interfere.
Caesar’s panting slowed, ever so slightly, and he mastered himself enough to speak.
“Ape… will not… kill… ape.”
Releasing One-Eye, he stood and remained looming over his vanquished opponent. Malcolm thought he knew what came next—or at least what Caesar would want to come next. He didn’t dare move, barely dared breathe. The other humans in the room didn’t move either.
If One-Eye came after Caesar again, he was going to die. And from the look on his face, he knew it. Maybe, Malcolm thought, he even embraced it.
43
On his back, Koba looked up at Caesar, who stood a step away. The look on Caesar’s face told him how very close he was to dying. He rose slowly, understanding that to move fast would be to provoke violence again. His head rang and he could feel the blows still, on his head and shoulders. He was in more pain then he had been at any time since leaving the research lab…
Because of Caesar.
Koba looked at the other apes. They all stared in shock, but as soon as he met their eyes they looked away. Humiliated, Koba turned to his friends. Grey and Stone had watched the fight from the stairs. Now, when he looked at them they, too, avoided his gaze.
He got to his feet and turned back toward Caesar. Further back he saw the human, Malcolm, and his boy. Then the woman who had helped Cornelia. The humans would look at him even though the apes would not.
He took a step toward Caesar, knowing what he had to do. He dropped to his knees and bowed his head, extending a supplicating palm but keeping his head down so Caesar could not see the burning hate on his face.
He knew Caesar would make him wait. He was prepared to wait… both for acceptance and for his revenge. Because the time had come for Koba to lead the apes. Caesar was weak, blinded, still wishing his favorite human was alive. Only Koba knew what humans were capable of. Only Koba could protect the apes from the humans… and, though he was sad to think it, from Caesar’s weakness.
Koba felt the swipe of Caesar’s palm across his own. He raised his face, wearing a mask of contrition. Koba knew how to dance, how to make faces, how to make others see him as they wished to, rather than as he was.
“Forgive me, Caesar,” he said, making sure both humans and apes heard.
* * *
Later, as dusk fell, Koba, Grey, and Stone sat apart from the other apes near the fire pit as the entire village gathered for the evening meal. Grey and Stone were still with Koba, though he knew they would remember the moment when he had surrendered to Caesar. Let them. They would also remember the moment when Koba made sure the apes would survive on their own, whether the humans did or not.
He watched Caesar and Blue Eyes. There was anger between them, and Koba—who had worried about it before—was now glad to see it. Blue Eyes, too, would be important to his plan. Then Blue Eyes left his father, with no word or sign, and went to stand by himself closer to the fire.
Maurice sidled over to Caesar. Koba’s eye narrowed. Maurice was loyal. An ape should be loyal. But Maurice was loyal to weakness. Koba would never be able to trust him.
Grey and Stone followed Koba’s gaze. Keeping his hands low, Grey signed.
You did not warn Caesar about the guns we found?
Koba shook his head.
No. And neither will you.
Stone and Grey exchanged a look. Just like that, they were part of Koba’s plan.
* * *
Still later, when most apes had gone to sleep, Blue Eyes remained by the fire. He had spent the evening after the meal repairing the spear broken in the fight with the bear. Now the point was retied onto the shaft, and he had chipped an edge back onto it. He sat, holding the tip in the flames to harden it.
Koba knew some apes believed that putting the stone in fire gave it a sharper edge. He himself did not… but there was no reason to tell Blue Eyes that.
When Blue Eyes looked up, Koba made a show of hesitating until the young one had looked back at the fire. He stepped closer and grunted softly to get Blue Eyes’ gaze back on him.
Your father does not trust me now, he signed. It may be up to you to protect him.
Frowning, Blue Eyes set the spear down, to free him to sign.
What do you mean?
Koba took a step back. This was a time for small actions that would have large consequences.
His love for humans clouds his wisdom, he responded. As long as they remain here, I fear for his life. With that, he walked away. The plan was set in motion… and the finest part of it was that Blue Eyes would have a role to play.
44
In the morning, the first thing Malcolm noticed was the sound of the apes arriving in camp for the day’s work. The second was that Alexander was not in his sleeping bag. He leaned forward and out of the bag he shared with Ellie to look out the tent flap. Behind him he felt Ellie stir and grab at the bag to pull it back.
Outside he saw Alexander, sitting with the orangutan, pointing at a page in his comic book. No, wait. The orangutan was holding the comic. Alexander was teaching him how to read it.
“Incredible,” Malcolm said softly.
“What?” Ellie said from behind him. “That you never learned to get up without pulling all the covers off?”
“No, come here.” Malcolm motioned to her. She held the sleeping bag close and scooched over next to him. He heard her catch her breath at the sight. “Can you believe it?”
“Can I believe what?” she said softly. “A fifteen-year-old kid teaching a talking orangutan how to read a comic book? Nothing unusual about that.”
He chuckled, and they snuggled next to each other, amazed that even in this world, where so much had been lost, moments like this were still possible.
* * *
Caesar arrived as they were about to head up to the dam site. He watched humans and apes working together. Malcolm had an internal debate about whether to approach him, and then decided what the hell, the dir
ect approach had worked so far.
“We’ll be done today. Like we promised,” he said, coming close to Caesar’s horse. Caesar nodded and looked away, tracking something one of the apes was doing. Malcolm wasn’t quite done, though. “I just want to thank you,” he said. “When we get back, I’m going to make sure everyone knows what you did to help us.”
Caesar looked down from the horse. He reached out and dropped a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder, exactly as Malcolm had done the day before in Caesar’s tree house.
“Trust,” he said quietly.
Malcolm nodded. There was a connection between them. Curious, he looked across the camp to where he thought Caesar’s attention had been drawn earlier. There were Alexander and the orangutan.
“Caesar,” Malcolm said, “do me a favor. What’s the orangutan’s name?”
“Maurice,” Caesar said. “Good friend.”
“Luca the gorilla introduced himself down in the tunnel after the cave-in,” Malcolm said. “And your son?”
“Blue Eyes.”
“What about the other one? And your… woman? Partner?”
“Baby is not named yet. Her name is Cornelia.”
An ape of few words, Malcolm thought. He didn’t want to push the chumminess of the moment too far, but it sure did help to have some names.
“Oh,” he said. “And One-Eye…?”
Caesar looked at Malcolm. “Koba,” he said. “Stay away from him.”
“That’s the plan,” Malcolm said.
* * *
They’d spent the morning shooting more holes in the Jeep down by the water, and now McVeigh and Terry had decided that it was lunchtime, if “lunch” meant sharing a bottle of whiskey. They didn’t do it every day, but today just felt like a whiskey day. They sat inside the warehouse, on the ground floor, looking up at the building’s three levels, each jam-packed with crates.
