Beneath The Planet Of The Apes (7 page)

“Brachycocephalic
—and
prognathous . . . incipient glaucoma . . . hmmm.” He raised his voice, for the guards’ benefit. “We could do with these two.” He signaled for Brent and Nova to be put aside for further examination and study.

The mounted sergeant spurred closer, his tone surly and insolent. And impatient. His right hand bore a menacing truncheon.

“Required for human target practice on Number Two Range,” he repeated. “Captain Odo’s orders.”

Cornelius stared up at him icily.

“Required for cranial research by order of Dr. Zaius, Minister of Science.” With that, he turned to the guards and indicated the second wagon. “Load them up.”

The sergeant snarled, but whipped his horse around angrily and trotted off. Brent and Nova now found themselves hustled into the second cage-cart. The door clanged shut behind them. Up front, the gorilla driver cracked his whip. The wagon rolled forward. Brent stared through the bars of the cage at Cornelius. But Cornelius had returned to his study and examination of the rest of the filthy pack remaining in the big human pen. Business as usual! Once more, Brent could only muffle his astonishment and anger. He was perplexed.

Nor did the wagon journey through the streets of Ape City lessen his aggravation. Through the bars, with the silent Nova ever just behind him, he witnessed even more of the spectacle of a world gone topsy-turvy. A universe insane. As they made for the outskirts of the complex, he could see many signs of some kind of military preparations: apes in close-order drill, apes taking courses in the use of the bayonet, apes stabbing dummies made up to resemble humans, apes going through the paces of rifle instruction. Ape City—if all the evidence was to be trusted—seemed to be making ready for some invasion or
sortie.
Was the city under siege? Had the humans somehow gotten back to their former level and threatened the apes with total extinction? It was too much to hope for.

Brent sank wearily to the floor of the cart. His shoulder hurt again, his eyes were like two blazing balls of fried meat, his mind was coming apart. Nova huddled against him, her eyes wide open and oddly tranquil, despite their plight. Perhaps it was an old story to her, the only thing she had ever known—being pushed around by gorillas. For Brent, it would never be easy to take.

Still, what was there he could do about it?

Now,
at least.

Yet there was something hopeful, something to think about, as his eyes watched the gorillas mounting artillery field pieces and grooming horses for combat. The view did not change one iota on all the long, harrowing trip toward the outskirts of Ape City.

Something was up.

At the Research Complex, Dr. Zaius’ own special kingdom, there was also much activity, if of a different kind. Zaius himself had invited General Ursus down to see what was going on. The Gorilla, massive and impressive as always in his uniform and medals, was walking around the compound inspecting the experimental cages and devices which formed the nucleus of Zaius’ work. Zira was also on the scene. With a chimpanzee assistant at her elbow, she was accepting the newest delivery of cage-wagon humans sent from the city proper by her husband Cornelius. Zaius and Ursus, strolling the compound now for a chat, had just come into view when the gorilla driver delivered his wagonload of specimens which included Brent and Nova. The human cargo was as wretched as ever.

Zira, withholding her shock, approached Brent and Nova very casually. She had not expected to see them again so soon.

Brent held his ground. There was nothing else he could do.

Zira stared up at him.

“Male. Type E cranium. Very unusual.” The chimpanzee at her elbow rapidly made some notes on her pad.

Zira reached up, tweaked Brent’s ear and gave him a deliberately deadpan wink that only he could see.

“Weak occipital development. Substandard lobes—” She turned her attention to Nova who was staring at her dumbly. “Female. Type—” She broke off, for now she could see Dr. Zaius and General Ursus walking toward her. The sight disturbed her. Zaius was saying, “. . . so be it. You know that my scruples were dictated by caution—not by cowardice. When the day comes, I shall ride with you.” Ursus was grunting a reply, but his piggish eyes were roving over Brent and Nova with undue interest. Zira quickened her routine survey, anxious to be gone. The guards were impatient too.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve been able to study specimens of such extraordinary clinical interest,” Zira said too loudly. “Take them inside . . .”

“You can’t have them,” General Ursus suddenly spoke up behind her. Zira whirled.

General Ursus’ ugly face was wreathed in what passed for a smile. A horsewhip was coiled in his huge right paw.

“They’ve been marked,” he explained quietly, “for target practice.” As he said this, he flicked the whip and it cut cruelly across Nova’s lithe body. Brent flinched but held his silence. General Ursus had already turned away, leading Dr. Zaius off with him. Zira raged inwardly. The gorilla driver, now that his leader had spoken, needed no second urging; he was already pushing Brent and the girl toward his cage-wagon. The vehicle was empty now, its desperate occupants removed for further research. The door at the rear hung open. Zira helped the driver to force Brent and Nova into the van. Brent moved like a dead man. This last had been too much for him. All the fight had gone out of him. He was dead-tired and dead-hopeless. As the driver went about his paces, Zira locked the cage door. Brent sat down on the floor of the wagon, his head in his hands. Nova began to weep. Softly and terribly. Brent was suddenly galvanized. He jumped to his feet, shaking the bars of the cage, his face furious. The cords in his neck stood out with the effort. Nova, with uncomprehending obedience, stopped crying and followed suit. Together they made a pitiful sight. Humans rattling the bars of their cage.

Brent wildly pointed to the lock of the cage door.

Zira nodded as the driver returned to the front seat of his wagon. Her cute chimpanzee face was almost kindly.

“These poor animals,” she said so that the driver could hear her. “They think blind force is the answer to everything.”

The driver grunted, and reached for his whip.

“Wait—I’ll double-lock the door,” Zira said.

Under cover of the clatter of the wagon rolling once more into motion, Zira took out her key and
unlocked
the door of the cage, but without opening it. Brent stared at her.

“Good luck,” she whispered.

He kept on staring at her, dumbly, long after the driver’s whip had spurred the horses into a steady trot, long after her simian figure in its outlandish skirt and jacket was a solitary speck in the dust of the roadway. The motionless figure of Zira was a sight that Brent would always remember. For whatever was left of his life.

He could not account for the lump of something in his throat, nor for the fact that his eyes had filled with tears.

Zira’s milk of kindness had engulfed him.

The wagon rumbled along at a good clip, heading back to the city, and Brent waited for the proper time to make his move. He had to pick a convenient moment. The terrain was still alive with ape preparations for war. They passed a cavalry of gorillas maneuvering in an intricate pattern that brooked no good for any foe ever caught by it. So Brent waited, biding his time, comforting Nova, who in her eternal speechlessness was never more than a senseless receptacle for all the ill that came her way. Brent’s heart had gone out to her almost from the beginning. Her appeal was enormous. Apart from her physical attributes, she was like some lost and forlorn child you wanted to hold in your arms to make her stop crying, stop being afraid. God knew he was terrified himself. Scared virtually spitless, to put it baldly, truthfully.

But a man had to fight to survive.

Something the apes should always have realized.

Their own loss if they hadn’t.

So Brent waited until the proper moment should come.

It did.

The driver had led the wagon through a stretch of deserted terrain, asprinkle with trees and shrubs, and it was here that Brent found his spot for an escape plan.

With Nova silently waiting, he opened the cage door, swung out over the roadway and clambered atop the wagon’s roof. The gorilla head of the driver, hunched over his reins, was visible just above the forward lip of the cage. Brent edged forward on his hands and knees, mindful of the jarring passage of the wagon along the bumpy roadway. His hands tightened about the long leather leash trailing from his dog collar. His eyes were not quite sane as he reached the driver. Then he jumped. Like a savage who knows that it is the victim’s death or his own. The gorilla head jerked violently. Great paws came up, fighting the hands from behind that were garroting with the leather leash. Brent was remorseless. He put all his mad weight into his arms and twisted savagely until the gorilla slumped lifelessly against his body. Brent stepped down and kicked the driver’s inert form out of the seat. When the body hit the roadway, disappearing in the wagon dust, Brent could have screamed in exaltation. Even killing felt fine and good in this godawful place!

Like getting some of your own back.

With the fever singing in his veins, he drew the horses to a halt. There was no time to lose. They couldn’t run around this infernal country in an open wagon. Not one of
their
wagons, at any rate.

Brent cut the two horses loose with a knife he found on a rack in the driver’s seat. Then he went back to see about Nova, but she had already jumped out of the cage to join him. Her eyes were excited but still frightened. He patted her hand, motioned to the horses, keeping a wary eye on their surroundings for any signs of the gorilla cavalry. They weren’t out of the woods yet. It was far too early to send up any skyrockets or do victory jigs.

This land still belonged to the Almighty Ape.

Quickly they mounted the horses and galloped away. It might have been Brent’s imagination but he would have sworn he could hear a great hullaballoo starting up behind them. As if their escape on horseback had been spotted, as if it was already known that two humans had outwitted their gorilla captor. Brent didn’t dare turn around and look. He had had enough of horror and fear in one day to last him a lifetime. Two lifetimes, in or out of the Hasslein Curve in the bend of Time. Now he only wanted out—the sooner the better.

He kept galloping his horse until the terrain became extremely rocky, stacked with gigantic boulders that towered as tall as buildings. Nova remained as close behind him as possible. He was ever conscious of her long-haired figure just out of reach. Whatever she was, the girl was a skillful rider, having no difficulty at all keeping up with him. Brent was grateful for that, too. He needed somebody to hold his own hand, never mind his being the only shoulder to lean on.

The high rocks loomed before them.

The sun was going down, hiding behind a shelf of ledge that seemed to fill the world. Blood-red rays tinged the landscape.

Brent rode on.

So did the girl.

Turning and twisting their mounts, they sought to find a passage between the mighty rock upheaval spread before them. A forest of stone.

They were blocked now by what must have been a recent landslide of earth and rock. The horses shied, whinnying, fighting for a level flooring for their hooves. Dismayed, Brent ordered the girl to dismount, for they could navigate now only on foot. That was obvious. No horse could have found a path through this obstacle of rock and stone and earth. There was no definable trail.

Brent and Nova found an opening between the boulders and the rocky obstacles. Stumbling and staggering, the horses behind them, they found their thorny path leading them to a shallow stream of running water. Around them on all sides the great rocks sprung like monolithic giants in a wilderness of stone.

Not too far behind them, peering from the crest of the high rock shelf, a ring of silhouetted apes watched the man and the woman work their way along the stream between the boulders.

The gorilla militia looked down, their helmeted heads and hunched shoulders menacing and unreal in the half light now darkening the planet of the apes. Their rifles and bayonets gleamed.

Brent and Nova had reached the Forbidden Zone.

A part of it, at least, where no gorilla dared tread.

Or could.

Without risking the disasters of the
Unknown.

They had emerged from the maze of rocks.

To Brent it was like walking into two thousand years of time. He had to blink against the unreality of what he now saw. What Nova must be seeing, though the girl couldn’t possibly have understood any of it. For Brent it was the single act of entering a long tunnel. He strained his eyes to see, to comprehend. But he couldn’t. He had stepped into a tableau from which there was no withdrawing. He had stepped into Yesterday—and what was worse, he had also stepped into Tomorrow. The Tomorrow he had never known.

He and Nova were in an underground subway station.

There was no mistake.

Slivers of gray daylight filtered feebly through dark upper gratings, dimly illuminating the long, corroded tracks stretching ahead between damp, glistening platforms. The stone and wood of the platforms were cracked and fissured with age.

Brent was too stunned to speak. Nova trailed along behind the barrier of his body. Brent could only stare all about him, trying to adjust to the shock of some indubitable truth struggling to make itself known to his intelligence.

He began to walk, like a somnambulist, conscious only of a
drip, drip, dripping
sound somewhere. Like water falling eternally on stone. The walls above the platforms, ancient, rotting, now revealed a pitiful sign of some kind. Brent ran his fingers along the wet, scummy wall, walking hypnotically, following the steady rhythm of
drip, drip, drip.
Nova followed him. Brent paused. The texture of the wall had subtly changed. Brent stared up the wall, at the sign. It mocked his sanity and his reason:

QUEENSBOROUGH PLAZA