Dawn of the Planet of the Apes: The Official Movie Novelization (12 page)

The waiting was killing them. If it had been up to Carver, he would have started the truck and gotten the hell out of there the minute Malcolm was out of sight. But that wasn’t really possible with his woman and his son sitting right there. So he and Foster sat up in the front and Malcolm’s little family sat in the back, Alexander reading the same comics over and over.

Weird kid.
Carver didn’t like him. He didn’t like Malcolm either. Ellie was all right, easy on the eyes and pleasant, but he’d have been just as happy to never see any of them again. What he wanted was a wrench in one hand, a beer in the other, and the sure knowledge that they’d come up here with every gun in Fort Point, then used them to put those apes in the ground.

Instead they were sitting in a truck up in the mountains with pine needles raining down all over them. At least he had a cigar. It was hand-rolled in the Colony from lousy tobacco they’d grown themselves, but it was a cigar.

Pine needles. Why were there so many…?

“Oh, shit,” Foster said, as Carver heard rustling in the trees. He pitched the cigar and rolled up the window.

“That’s it,” he said. “We’re gone. It’s probably two hours anyway.” He locked the doors and reached for the ignition as the trees around them were suddenly full of apes.

“It hasn’t been two hours,” Ellie protested. “You can’t—”

“The hell I can’t,” Carver said. “You see what’s out there? Probably one of them brought Malcolm’s head to show us.” He started the truck and jammed it into gear. Around them, the apes drew closer. They were in the mirrors, too, coming around behind the truck. Carver figured he’d have to run over some of them to get out, but that was fine with him.

“Wait! Stop!”

It was the kid. Carver looked back out the windshield and saw Malcolm being marched out of the woods, flanked by two mean-looking chimps. He thought fast and then made his decision. “Nope. We’re gone.”

But when he looked in the mirror again, the path back down the mountain was blocked by a bunch of chimps on horseback.

“Shit,” Foster said again. “We’re dead.” Carver killed the engine as Malcolm and his escorts came to the driver’s-side window. Malcolm motioned for him to roll it down. Carver hesitated, but he did it. Hell, if the apes wanted in the truck, they could get in the truck.

“Give them your guns,” Malcolm said as soon as the window was down. “That was the one condition.”

“The one condition of what?” Ellie asked.

Malcolm nodded toward the ape leader. The chimp with war paint was watching them from across the clearing, near the second truck. “He says we can stay.”

“Great,” Carver said. He wished he hadn’t tossed his cigar.

* * *

They marched up the slope toward the dam, carrying their gear and watched closely by a heavy guard of apes. Some of them rode horses, more were on foot. Kemp, Foster, and Carver stuck close together and tried not to look the apes in the eye.

Malcolm couldn’t quite believe he’d pulled it off. Well, he hadn’t—not yet. The dam wasn’t running. But he’d come back to the apes and managed not to get harpooned. That was a pretty good first step, all things considered. It was late afternoon and it looked like they would live through another day. Probably. But they still needed to be careful. There was no telling how long the ape leader’s goodwill would last, or how long One-Eye would contain his temper.

“Stay close to me,” Malcolm said to Alexander, but meaning it for both him and Ellie.

The sun was low over the ridge when they got to a clearing at the edge of the river. The ape leader signaled a halt and pointed at the ground. Malcolm looked at him, uncertain for a moment… then he figured it out.

“You want us to camp here?” he asked. The chimp nodded. Malcolm looked to the others, who started to drop their gear and make what preparations they could before it got dark. He looked over at One-Eye, who was watching the humans with what seemed like disgust. A thought occurred to Malcolm, incongruous given the circumstances. But he thought he’d give it a try.

He walked up to the ape leader’s horse.

“Thank you,” he said. Then he placed one hand flat on his chest and said, “Malcolm.”

The chimp looked surprised. He considered Malcolm, deliberating over something. Then he tapped his own chest.

“Caesar.”

Well, of course
, Malcolm thought.
The leader of a renegade band of genetically enhanced apes is named Caesar. What
else
would it be?

Without another word or gesture, Caesar wheeled his horse around and rode off. The rest of the apes followed.

“Looks like we’re here until morning,” Malcolm said. “Let’s get some sleep.”

They could not burn the metal parts of the guns. Those they smashed with rocks next to the fire pit, all under Caesar’s direction. Maurice and Rocket did most of it, with Koba glowering across the fire pit. As Rocket tossed the wooden parts of the last gun into the fire, Koba stood abruptly and loped around the pit to where Caesar sat watching.

This is a mistake
, he signed.
Why help them?

Caesar nodded.
Helping them could be dangerous. But not helping is more dangerous.
Koba grunted, acknowledging this without agreeing. Caesar saw Blue Eyes looking at them.

They’re trying to save themselves
, Caesar signed, making sure Blue Eyes could see.
If we force them to leave, we give the humans no choice. They will attack.

Let them!
Koba thumped his chest.

And how many apes will die?
Caesar put an edge on his signs.
We will let them do their human work. And then they will leave.

Koba grunted again, this time openly scoffing.

“Human work?” he said. He turned sideways to Caesar and gestured at the scar that ran down the length of his spine. “This human work.”

Koba’s defiance began to attract attention from the other apes gathered to watch the fire. He pointed to the scar across the base of his skull. “Human work…?” Then he stabbed a finger at his blind eye and growled, louder, “
This
human work!”

More of the apes were staring now, uneasy at the challenge to Caesar’s authority.
Enough
, Caesar thought. He would not have this. He stood and stepped to Koba, so close that their faces almost touched, locking eyes and silently daring him to continue his defiance.

Silence fell, broken only by the crackle and hiss of the fire. Then Koba took a step back and looked down.

Forgive me
, he signed.

Caesar did not move.

Koba kept looking at the ground. After a hesitation, he extended a hand, palm up. Caesar looked at Koba’s hand for a long moment before he brushed his own palm across it, accepting the supplication.

Koba glanced up at Caesar, then back across the fire at Blue Eyes and the other watching apes. He looked back to Caesar and dropped his gaze once more before turning and walking away out of the firelight. Caesar watched him go, glad that Koba had not pushed him to a fight.
Apes together strong
, he thought. It was more important than ever now that they had the humans to think about as possible rivals, or even enemies.

Blue Eyes, too, watched Koba go. Turning back to his father, he approached.

Koba says humans are to be hated
, he signed.

At last
, Caesar thought. He had expected this.
That is because from humans Koba learned only hate
, he signed.

Blue Eyes considered this. He was torn, and Caesar could understand why. Young apes felt a powerful drive to supplant their elders. Blue Eyes felt this without understanding it. Caesar had to make sure he learned to understand it before his son’s youthful energy led him to rebel.

Without another word, Blue Eyes left. Caesar wondered if he would seek Koba. They both needed watching, and control, but for different reasons. He looked up to see Maurice, who gestured that they should walk together. When they were out of the firelight and away from the gathered apes, Maurice stopped.

Koba’s anger is strong
, he signed.

His loyalty is stronger
, Caesar answered.
He is an ape.
They stood looking back at the burning guns, knowing the problem was more complicated than what he had said.
But he must not be left alone with the humans. He may not be able to stop himself. We can’t let him start a war.

Maurice nodded, understanding that Caesar had set him this task. Yet it would take more than one ape to ensure Koba did not cause a war that only he wanted.

Caesar yawned. The guns were destroyed. Sentries watched the humans. It was time to rest. He signed
good night
to Maurice, who ambled back to the fire as Caesar went up the path toward his tree. He climbed up to the sleeping room and stepped softly to the bed, where Cornelia lay looking at their newborn.

Barely two days old
, Caesar thought,
and so much happening around him. What story will we tell of these times when he is old enough to hear it?

Cornelia smiled up at him. Her breath rattled still, maybe worse than it had been the day before. Worried, Caesar stroked her face. Her skin felt warmer than it should have… but perhaps that was because she had been tucked down into the bedding?

Blue Eyes will watch the baby tomorrow
, he signed.
You need rest.

She shook her head.

I’ll be fine
, she signed.
You’re worried. About the humans?

He looked from the baby back to her and nodded. She knew him, and would know if he tried to pretend otherwise. But nothing could be done about the humans tonight, Caesar told himself. He also needed rest. He lay down beside her and drifted off to sleep, hearing the wheeze and rattle of her breath in the darkness and thinking it was not just the humans he worried about.

They put up their tents quickly, before dark, and gathered wood for a fire. The six of them sat together to eat, but it was clear that Foster, Kemp, and Carver considered themselves a group within the group.

From up the canyon, they could hear distant ape noises—the occasional call, and as dark fell a long series of smashing noises.

“Listen to that,” Kemp said.

“Damn, take a look. See that glow?” Carver said, pointing into the darkness. “The apes have fire.”

“They have our guns, too,” Kemp said. “Don’t know about you, but I am
not
getting any sleep tonight.”

Malcolm heard all this while he sat in front of his tent, studying schematic diagrams of the dam. Dreyfus had helped him find them in a room full of filing cabinets down in the basement of San Francisco City Hall. Nobody had bothered to loot it. He’d looked at them before, but now he was making a real study of the wiring in the pump house, and how it connected to the transmission grid.

He noticed Ellie sitting next to him, but was so deeply engrossed in the schematics that he didn’t hear what she said at first. She nudged him.

“You have to eat,” she repeated.

“In a sec,” Malcolm said.

She waited until he picked up the corner of a page, then said, “That was brave. What you did today.”

Malcolm nodded, registering the compliment and appreciating it, but not wanting to break his concentration on learning the dam schematics.

“You’re so hard on yourself,” she went on. “I know everyone’s depending on you, but—”

He looked up from the drawings.

“I don’t care about any of that,” he said, more sharply than he’d intended. “Any of it. I just care about him. He’s the only reason I’m doing this.”

Alexander sat near the three mechanics, intent on whatever he was drawing in his sketchbook. Whatever happened between human and ape, Malcolm reflected, he would always give Caesar the benefit of the doubt for returning Alexander’s satchel. The boy identified with his art. He needed it. Malcolm wondered if Caesar had understood that, or if the satchel was the item that presented itself as a way to make a good-faith gesture.

“There were things he saw that no kid should ever have to see,” Malcolm said. “There’s no way I’m ever letting us go back to that.”

“You’re not the only one responsible for everyone’s well-being,” she said. He felt her hand brush down the back of his head and come to rest on his nape. He looked away from Alexander, and toward her. It might have been the end of the world, but there were things to be thankful for.

Malcolm leaned into her.

“I don’t mean I’m not doing it for you, too,” Malcolm said, probably way too late.

“I know what you mean,” Ellie said. “You know I’ve been trying to get closer to him. But he…”

“It’s not you. He has a hard time trusting people.”

Ellie nodded, understanding.

“I can’t say I blame him.”

“Let’s join up with the group,” Malcolm said. “Make sure everyone’s on the same page.”

* * *

“You know the scariest thing about them?” Foster was saying. “They don’t need power, lights, heat… nothing. That’s their advantage. That’s what makes them stronger.”

Malcolm privately thought this was bullshit. Humans didn’t need any of those things, either. They wanted them, they benefited from them, but
Homo sapiens
had existed for a long time before electricity.

As they approached the three men, an ape called through the trees, answered a moment later by another, quite a bit closer. Malcolm had a paranoid moment, wondering if Caesar was allowing humans to fix the dam so he could use the power himself…

“Maybe one of us should stand guard?” Kemp suggested.

“With what?” Foster asked. “They took our guns.”

“If they wanted to kill us, we’d be dead already,” Malcolm said, as he and Ellie joined the group at the fire. He leaned over to see what Alexander was drawing—it was a portrait of Caesar on horseback.

Interesting
, Malcolm thought.
That’s one charismatic chimpanzee.
In the picture, Caesar looked fierce and also noble, posed the way a medieval artist might have staged a painting of a knight on horseback.
Caesar as crusading knight
, Malcolm thought. Only drawn graphic-novel style. Not manga—that wasn’t Alexander’s thing, really—but more heroic and gritty. Malcolm considered Alexander a pretty talented artist. Too bad he lived in a world where art was a complete luxury.