“Hey! Hey!” Boyle sprang to his feet, rage contorting his ugly human face. “You stupid—!”
He kicked the bucket out of Winter’s hand, sending stew flying. Acting on instinct, the gorilla snarled at the human, who drew his gun and aimed it straight at the ape’s face. Winter froze in alarm, realizing he had crossed a line.
Idiot gorilla, Red thought, backing away. He wasn’t going to risk his life to save Winter’s. I tried to teach him…
“Come on, Boyle,” a human voice protested.
Preacher rose from a log to try to calm Boyle. Red knew Preacher to be less of a bully than many of the other humans; Red hadn’t decided yet if the immature young human was friendly to apes or just weak. He recalled that Preacher was one of the soldiers whose lives Caesar had spared.
“Shut up, Preacher!” Boyle snapped. “What’re you, a donkey lover now? I think you’re going soft ’cause that kong let you go.”
Around the campfire, some of the other soldiers snickered. Preacher backed down, his cheeks blushing in humiliation and anger. Red recognized that the human had been shamed before his tribe, like a chimpanzee forced to submit to a dominant male. All that was missing was a ritual supplication.
Boyle kept his gun pointed at Winter’s face.
“Get me a new bowl,” he growled at the gorilla.
Winter looked anxiously at Red, who soberly indicated that he should comply with the soldier’s orders. That Boyle had not already put a bullet in Winter’s brain was a good sign.
Perhaps the white gorilla was going to live through the night after all.
* * *
A mobile kitchen had been set up in one of the larger tents. The cooks had departed now that the stew had been prepared, so there was no one to help Winter as he rummaged under a supply table for a fresh bowl to replace the one that had landed in the dirt. His heart was still pounding from his close brush with death at the angry human’s hands. Not for the first time, he wondered if he had made a terrible mistake by surrendering to the humans.
Perhaps it wasn’t too late to slip away into the forest and strike out on his own?
Finding a clean bowl at last, he stood up in the dimly lit tent, trying to work up the nerve to escape or to return to the campfires. A grimy mirror over a wash basin captured his reflection and he gazed morosely at the image, barely recognizing himself. Less than two sunrises ago, he had been a respected member of the apes’ guard, trusted by both Luca and Caesar himself. Now he was a traitor and a slave, who had just come close to being executed for spilling a drop of soup.
What has become of me? he thought. What have I become?
He could never return to the fortress, he knew that. Even if he hadn’t already told the Colonel where it was, Caesar and the other apes would never forgive him for that betrayal. He could only stay with the humans, and hope that Red could help him stay alive, or he could risk deserting the camp, becoming an outcast and fugitive to both sides.
Neither prospect held any hope for his future.
Unable to look at himself any longer, he started to turn away from the mirror—just as another face appeared beside his.
Spinning around, he found Caesar standing behind him, staring at him with cold, merciless eyes. His icy silence was more terrifying than any accusing words or growls would have been.
No, Winter thought frantically. You can’t be here!
Panicked, he turned toward the exit, only to find Luca blocking the way. The looming silverback glowered at Winter in a manner that promised no forgiveness. Winter spun toward the opposite end of the tent, where Rocket waited.
He was surrounded.
Winter retreated back against the wash basin as Caesar slowly moved toward him.
“Where is the Colonel?” he demanded.
Even though the young gorilla was larger and stronger than Caesar, he wilted before the chimpanzee’s forbidding gaze and tone. He swallowed hard before signing in reply.
He’s gone.
Caesar eyed him skeptically, advancing even closer. “Gone?”
Glancing around anxiously, Winter saw the other apes closing in on him, too. His hopes sank as he tried to convince Caesar that he was telling the truth.
This morning, he signed. He took many soldiers with him.
Luca and Rocket exchanged worried looks, clearly troubled by the news, but Caesar merely kept his baleful eyes fixed on the trembling gorilla, who tried to appease Caesar by revealing everything he had overheard from the humans.
Men are coming down here, he signed, from their base in the north. The Colonel and his soldiers are going to meet them at the border.
“What border?” Caesar asked. “Why?”
I don’t know, Winter signed. But more of us are leaving to join them in the morning. He flinched as he realized that he had just referred to the Colonel’s forces as “us,” including himself in their ranks. Red thinks they’ll all be coming back here… to help the Colonel finish off the apes for good.
Caesar came to a halt only inches away from Winter.
Please, the gorilla signed. I know I betrayed you, but can’t you see? We’ll never beat them. I was just trying to survive. Red told me the humans promised to spare us if we helped them.
He relived that moment back at the trenches, when Red had convinced him to switch sides while there was still a chance. Shaken by the sight of dozens of dead and maimed apes, and their defensive wall blown to pieces by the humans’ explosives, Winter had made his choice, which he now regretted with all his heart.
I beg you, he signed. Forgive me!
Caesar appeared unmoved by his pleas. His voice, as it escaped his lips, was taut with barely contained fury.
“My son… my wife… are dead.”
Guilt mixed with fear in the Winter’s soul. He had known that apes would die, of course, when he’d told the Colonel where to find the fortress behind the falls, but putting names and faces to the dead hurt even worse than Winter had feared. He knew now that Caesar could never forgive him.
The raucous laughter of humans, strolling by outside, offered him one last desperate chance at rescue. The shadows of the passing soldiers could be seen through the mesh windows of the tent. Winter opened his mouth to shriek for help, but Caesar’s hand clamped down over his mouth, silencing him. His other hand seized the gorilla’s throat in an iron grip that surprised Winter with its strength. He wrestled Winter to the ground, even as Luca and Rocket rushed in to help him subdue the thrashing gorilla, who found himself outnumbered three to one. He struggled violently to free himself, to call out to the humans before it was too late. He knew his life depended on it.
Ape shall not kill ape, Caesar had taught.
But that had not spared Koba…
* * *
Holding Winter down, determined to keep him from crying out, Caesar spared a glance in the direction of the human soldiers outside, who were visible only as dim silhouettes through the walls of the tent. He saw with dismay that some of the shadows had turned toward the tent, as though attracted by the muffled noise of the scuffle. Their harsh laughter subsided to a worrying degree.
Quiet! Caesar thought. Not another sound!
He tightened his grip on Winter’s throat, but the frantic ape would not stop struggling. Although held down by the three older apes, the white gorilla fought desperately to break free and sound an alarm. Pink eyes stared wildly at the shadows of the soldiers, who were his only hope. Caesar squeezed Winter’s throat with all his strength, choking him harder and harder, until the flailing ape finally fell still. Caesar tensely watched the shadows, holding his breath, and bit back a gasp of relief as the soldiers turned away from the now-silent tent and continued on by. He waited, frozen in place upon his foe, as the shadows gradually receded from view.
He exhaled slowly, as did Luca and Rocket. His friends nodded at Caesar before staring grimly down at the unmoving form of Winter. They cautiously released their grip on the traitor ape, but he remained where he lay, no longer fightin
g for his life. Caesar took his hand away from the gorilla’s mouth, from which no breath emerged. Bloodshot eyes stared blankly at the wall of the tent.
Winter was dead—at Caesar’s hands.
The realization stunned the ape leader, even though he knew that Winter had brought this fate on himself. Luca and Rocket lowered their eyes, unable to meet his, as Caesar let go of the dead ape’s throat, grappling with what he had just done. Even with Koba, he had merely let his enemy fall to his doom. Caesar had never actually killed another ape with his bare hands.
Until now.
10
Safely distant from the humans’ tents, the apes sat glumly around a campfire of their own. Winter’s death cast a pall over the gathering as his former friends and mentors stared bleakly into the fire, each coping with the gorilla’s ugly fate in their own way, or so Caesar assumed.
He had it coming, Rocket signed at last.
Maurice nodded, but his somber visage belied his response. The orangutan had not taken part in the violence at the camp, having stayed behind to watch over the horses and the human girl, but he was surely affected by Winter’s demise as well. Maurice had taught Caesar’s laws to a generation of ape children. Winter had once been one of his students, too.
This is war, Luca insisted, as though trying to convince himself. Winter had been the silverback’s protégé before he’d turned his back on his own kind. Now Luca had to live with Winter’s death as well as his betrayal.
Caesar said nothing, lost in his own thoughts. He sipped absently from a canteen fashioned from a hollowed-out gourd before noticing that the girl child had sat down beside him at some point. She peered up at him guilelessly with placid blue eyes. She alone, Caesar reflected, was untroubled by the night’s disturbing events.
He considered the girl, momentarily grateful for the distraction, and handed her the drinking gourd, which she guzzled from thirstily, the cool water streaming down her chin. He started to wonder what her story was, then spied something out of the corner of his eye that drove all thought of the child from his mind. His eyes widened in shock as he realized that there was now a dark figure sitting before the campfire, directly across from him.
Peering across the flames, Caesar saw an unknown ape squatting on the opposite side of the fire, seemingly unnoticed by Maurice and the others. Rising sparks and smoke danced between Caesar and the new arrival, whose head was lowered ominously. Alarmed and bewildered, Caesar gaped at the nameless ape, who slowly lifted his head to reveal a scarred, familiar face and only one good eye. Koba grinned at Caesar across the rippling hot air dividing them. A hoarse voice spoke from beyond the grave.
“Ape… not kill ape.”
Caesar awoke with a start to find himself lying on the ground near a dead fire, the morning sun shining down through the treetops. Disoriented, he lifted his head to discover Maurice standing over him.
The humans, the orangutan signed urgently. They’re moving out.
The news helped dispel the lingering echoes of the nightmare from Caesar’s mind. Scrambling to his feet, he sighted Rocket and Luca several yards away, crouching tensely behind the tree as they spied on the humans’ camp. He heard the rumbling thunder of men and horses on the move. Caesar recalled Winter saying that the soldiers would be heading north in the morning to meet up with the Colonel and rendezvous with even more troops coming their way. Apparently he had been telling the truth.
Before I killed him, Caesar thought.
His own course was clear. If the soldiers were leaving to join the Colonel, then so was he. Winter may have paid for his treason, but the Colonel was still alive. They would follow the soldiers for as long as it took.
To the ends of the earth, if necessary.
* * *
The apes rode after the Colonel’s troops, maintaining a discreet distance, as a small army of mounted human soldiers headed east, leaving the coast behind in favor of the wooded valleys and canyons beyond. Fog helped conceal Caesar and his comrades as they trailed the convoy across miles of rugged, overgrown plains and marshes. Eerie souvenirs of mankind’s fallen civilization were scattered along the route, including the mammoth steel carcass of a downed 747 passenger jet which lay incongruously in a field of high grasses and wildflowers. Traveling further, the apes passed by a long strip of deserted highway, populated only by the rusting husks of abandoned cars, trucks, and trailers. Weeds sprouted through the cracked concrete. The collapsing roofs and spires of forgotten ghost towns could also be glimpsed along the way, so that at times it felt to Caesar as though they were pilgrims on some endless funeral procession, marked by the crumbling monuments of a bygone world that had died choking on its own blood.
Because of the virus, he thought. The same virus that elevated the apes.
Was it any wonder that so many humans blamed the apes for mankind’s downfall, even though the virus had been birthed by a human scientist in a human lab?
In time, the snow-capped peaks of the towering Sierra Nevada mountains loomed before them. Abandoning the plains and valleys, they ascended into the rugged peaks, where the climate grew colder and snowier and less hospitable, until at last they found themselves climbing a steep trail while thick white flakes blew against their faces, making it difficult to even see where they were going. Hairy coats provided a degree of protection against the cold, as they had during chilly winters back in the redwood forest, but the harsh weather was a brutal reminder that apes had evolved to thrive in tropical climates, not this frigid wilderness. Caesar had not worn clothing since turning his back on human ways many years ago, but he envied the human soldiers whatever winter gear and garments they possessed. Only by keeping moving could he and the others combat the cold. He shivered atop his horse, blowing upon his fingers to keep them from going numb.
But if the humans can cross these mountains, so can we.
His green eyes squinted into the blowing snow, trying to find the trail ahead. Concerned for the others, he glanced back over his shoulder to see how they were faring. He glimpsed Maurice on his own horse, sheltering the human girl with his shaggy body. The mute child clung to her massive guardian, seeking the warmth of his body. Snow dusted the orangutan’s orange fur, making him look prematurely ancient. Caesar peered past Maurice, hoping to check on Luca and Rocket. The balding chimpanzee had little fur left on his body these days. Caesar hoped that Rocket was not suffering too severely from the—
The crack of a distant gunshot rang out, echoing down the hills.
The horses bucked fearfully. Caesar took firm hold of the reins, while raising his free hand to signal the others to halt. The apes dismounted hurriedly, taking cover in the tall evergreens alongside the trail. Maurice pulled the girl more closely against him, wrapping his huge arms around her protectively. Caesar peered from behind a frost-covered oak tree, trying to figure out what was happening.
Who was shooting at whom?
Two more gunshots could be heard over the wind. The other apes huddled among the trees, looking to Caesar for direction. He gestured for them to stay where they were. As nearly as he could tell in the middle of a full-fledged snowstorm, no one was shooting at them yet. Caution dictated that they wait this out, even as the delay chafed at his temper.
None of this was getting him any closer to the Colonel—or his revenge.
Caesar lost track of time as they hunkered down in the woods. The blizzard gradually subsided, making it easier to see and hear, but Caesar didn’t hear any more gunshots. The apes cautiously emerged from hiding, scanning the trail for hostile human soldiers. Fresh snow crunched beneath their feet, but the noise attracted no gunfire.
Whatever they had heard, it appeared to be over.
Climbing back onto their horses, the apes rode on through the mountains. Caesar watched their surroundings carefully, on guard against an ambush, but all he spotted up ahead was another crude wooden cross, like the ones they’d found before, staked into the snow on the side of the trail. Made from what appeared to be freshly brok
en tree branches, the cross looked brand new, as though it had been erected just a short time before.
While we were hiding in the trees?
Caesar called another halt, and the apes dismounted to investigate. Luca looked about warily and signed to Caesar:
Where did they go?
Caesar shook his head, not having any answers. Here was another piece of the puzzle, but he still couldn’t make out the big picture. Approaching the cross, he made a grisly discovery. Three bodies were lying there, face down, already being buried by the snow. Maurice tucked the girl behind him to spare her from the sight, while Caesar crouched down to brush the snow from the bodies, exposing the lifeless forms of three human soldiers, all sporting the now-familiar AΩ insignia somewhere on their uniforms or flesh. Hoods had been pulled over their heads, execution-style. Bloody bullet wounds in their backs made it clear how they had died, even if the why remained a mystery.
Three gunshots, Caesar noted. Three bodies.
Caesar tugged one of the hoods off and rolled the body over. The corpse belonged to a female soldier. Her frozen eyes glittered like glass. Dried blood was caked beneath her nose.
Rocket unmasked another body, which turned out to be that of a lanky young male. His eyes were mercifully shut, but he also had caked blood around his nostrils. Rocket bent over to take a closer look—and the soldier’s eyes snapped open.
The human, who had apparently been left for dead, gasped at the sight of the apes, who were just as startled by his unexpected resurrection. Panicked, he started to scramble away, but, reacting quickly, Caesar hurried over and grabbed the soldier’s leg before he could flee. He had no intention of letting the wounded human loose until he had some answers.
“Why… did they shoot you?”
But the human just stared back at him with frightened eyes. He blinked in confusion as though he couldn’t even comprehend what Caesar was saying. His frantic eyes locked on the little girl, who peered at him from behind Maurice. Their gazes met but failed to communicate; they simply gaped at each other in bewilderment. The man opened his mouth as though to speak, but all that emerged were incoherent gasps and grunts.