Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (11 page)

“Hey there!” he shouted, stepping from the shadow and moving toward the watchman. The man froze, lifting his gun. Malakai put his hands up and took a few steps to the side.

“Hey, now,” he said, his voice lower. “There is no need for that.”

“What are you doing out?”

Malakai walked away from where Clancy had been. The sentry turned to follow him with the weapon. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her freeze, then tiptoe past and into their hut.

“Just looking for a smoke,” he said. “I thought you might have one.”

“I don’t smoke,” the man said, lowering his weapon. “You shouldn’t either. It’s bad for you, and secondhand smoke kills.”

“Ah, I’ve been thinking about quitting, anyhow,” Malakai said. “Perhaps you’ve inspired me.” He turned and went back inside, trying to ignore the itch he got
whenever someone with a gun was behind him.

Clancy was sitting in a chair next to the small table in the common room when he entered.

“Thanks,” she whispered, as he approached.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

She nodded. He pulled the other chair up to the little table.

“How did you know?” she asked. “You had a look in your eye,” he said. “I’ve seen it before. I’ve had it in my own eye, for that matter. How did you get in? They didn’t lock it?”

“They did,” she said. “I jammed chewing gum in the hole in the strike plate while they were watching you fail at the computer.” She shrugged and looked up. “These huts don’t have high-tech locks.”

“Well, what did you find?” he asked.

She hesitated. “Something,” she said at last. “Phillips—our boss, the guy running things here. He works for a multinational that owns, among other things, Anvil.”

“Okay,” he said. “That I could have guessed.”

“They also own a company called Gen Sys. The computer is lousy with Gen Sys files. I can’t read any of them because they’re encrypted.”

He waited, figuring she would finish her point, but she didn’t. Then she saw the puzzlement in his eyes.

“Gen Sys was the second place the apes liberated,” she said. “They were the company using apes for testing drugs.”

“Ah,” he said. “I see.”

“I’m not sure I do,” she said, “but it’s out there now.”

“What do you mean?”

“It wasn’t easy, but I managed to send a friend of mine an email. I’m pretty sure it won’t be detected unless they go through the whole system looking for it. Anyway, he’s
a reporter. I asked him to check it out quietly and get back to me.”

Malakai absorbed that for a moment.

“How will he ‘get back to you’?”

“I guess I’ll have to break back in there,” she said.

He nodded, realizing how badly he had underestimated this person. He had mistaken wonder and idealism for stupidity.

Of course, she might very well have just killed them both.

It took him a long time to get to sleep.

Caesar now knew his way into town.

The first night he had climbed high in the trees, searching for the nearest lights that marked human settlements. He saw them off toward where the moon and sun came from. When the moon rose, he and a small group went by its pale light, slowly and quietly, the orangs feeling the way first.

When they reached the fringes of the town and its streetlights, things went more easily. They kept to trees and shadows, which was not so difficult as there were plenty of both. Caesar had known what he was looking for—he had been with Will when he went to where humans found their food, although he usually had been made to wait in the car. But the places were easy to recognize, with lots of big windows and pictures of food. Will had called them “stores.”

A little hunting had found such a place. They discovered a way in through a shaft in the roof, and found bags they filled with fruit, honey, nuts—anything that looked edible. Keling remembered that fruit sometimes came in metal or plastic cans, and Caesar found plenty that had been made cold and hard, but which he knew would eventually warm up.

They had slipped back into the forest, groaning from
the weight, but it was worth it to see Maurice and the other orangutans finally eat something, to know they would not starve—at least, not yet.

The next night the shaft was closed with a piece of wood, so they had needed to break a window. And the next they had found men with guns guarding the store, so they had been forced to locate a different source of food. They found another place, though, and while small, it had very good fruit, including a very stinky one that set Maurice to doing a strange, stately dance of happiness before devouring it.

Tonight they tried a third store—one Rocket had scouted the night before. But when they approached it, they found the windows already broken. There were people inside. At first Caesar thought they were waiting for him—that it was a trap. But then he saw that they were taking things out of the store and loading them into their cars. Humans were stealing from humans.

Why?
he wondered.

It didn’t matter—this was no place for them now. They would have to find another store.

He was about to leave when cars with flashing lights arrived, and policemen climbed out. The trees around Caesar rustled as his band reacted, remembering the killers on the bridge that had been dressed like this.

“Quiet!” he whispered.

The people in the store tried to get away from the police, but a few fought them. The policemen hit them with sticks. One pulled his gun.

Caesar knew it was time to leave, while the humans were occupied with hurting each other.

He felt in his bones that something had changed. Something was different. He had never seen humans turn on each other in this way, and it sent weird chills through
him. It might be that this was their last night foraging in this area. But if not here, then where? They couldn’t go back across the bridge. It was too dangerous. Were there towns toward sundown? And if so, were humans turning on each other there, as well?

A part of him hoped so. If they fought themselves, they might forget about him and his apes.

When they reached the last road before the woods, Caesar saw trucks, and more of the men who had been chasing them.

They know
, he realized.
They’re trying to catch us coming back
.

It took them all night to go around, and they returned empty-handed. It was not a good night.

Maurice approached him, and Caesar waved to him.

Sorry
, he signed.
No fruit tonight
.

It never was the long solution
, the orangutan said.

Is there a long solution?
Caesar asked.

The wild apes have found some things we can eat.

Not enough
, Caesar said.

They will find more
, Maurice assured him. He tilted his head.
Fruit grows somewhere
, he said.
We will find it
.

I saw humans fight each other over food
, Caesar said.
What can it mean?

That there is not enough food for them, either
, Maurice replied.

How can that be? There was always food in the city
.

Maurice shrugged.

If there isn’t enough food for humans, where will
we
get it?
Caesar wondered.

You will find a way
, Maurice said, rolling slowly under the branch.
Because you are Caesar.

* * *

The man’s name is Tommy and he lives in a place with many rooms. In one of these rooms there are two cages, and he puts Koba in one of them. The cage is taller than the one that moved, but it is so narrow that he can’t sit or get down on all fours—he has to stand, which hurts after a while. He clings to the cage wall to relieve the cramping, but he can’t do that for long either. His mother is not there, and there are no toys in it at all. His only toy is his stuffed kitten, and he clings to it. It still smells like Mother.

There is another cage next to his, with something in it.

“Milo,” Tommy says, “Meet your protégé, Koba.”

Milo looks at Koba, then points at the stuffed animal.

Kitten
, he signs.

Kitten
, Koba signs back, relieved that Milo is not another big black caterpillar.

Milo doesn’t say a lot, though. When Koba gets some food, Milo wants some. When Koba asks Milo to tickle him, he doesn’t. Still, it is nice to have someone near.

The next day, Tommy starts teaching him.

Tommy shows Koba a stick. It looks funny, and has a sort of coil on one end of it. He touches Koba with it, and Koba screams as horrible pain shoots through his arm and makes his whole body shake.

“This is called a prod,” Tommy tells him. “When I ask you to do something and you don’t do it right, I will hurt you with it like I just did.”

He sits down in front of Koba.

“Koba,” he says. “I want you to smile.”

He makes a sign by putting one finger from each hand under his lips and then pulls them upward in a curve toward his ears. At the same time he pulls his lips back from his teeth and draws the corners of his mouth up. It is the expression Koba’s mother made when she was terrified
of something, and Koba makes it, too, when he is scared.

Tommy wants him to do that?

Tommy hits him with the pain stick. Koba jerks back in terror.

“There,” Tommy says. “You smiled. Good Koba. Do it again. Smile.”

He makes the sign again.

Shaking, Koba raises his hands up and puts his fingers under his jaw and then curves them up.

“That’s the sign,” Tommy says. “Now do it with your mouth.”

Then he shocks Koba again. Koba thinks his body will curl into a ball of pain and stay that way. It hurts like nothing he has ever felt.

“There,” Tommy said. “You smiled, you little sonofabitch. Now, see if you can do it without me shocking the crap out of you. Smile.” And he makes the sign again.

Then he reaches for his stick.

Koba flinches back, anticipating the pain.

“There you go,” Tommy said. “You’re starting to catch on.”

He makes the sign again and raises the stick. Koba watches, confused.

“I said smile,” Tommy roars, jabbing Koba again.

Tommy waits a minute while Koba shivers and pants and calms down. He takes out a little white stick, and another thing that makes hot flower-air. He touches the hot flower-air to the white stick, then sucks on it. Smoke comes out of his mouth. It does not smell good.

Tommy sets the smoke-stick down. He makes the “smile” sign and then reaches for his shocking stick. Koba knows Tommy is going to hit him again. Koba pulls his lips back from his teeth and makes them curve up toward his ears. It isn’t hard, he’s so scared.

Tommy puts the stick back down.

“Good boy,” he says. “You learn fast.”

He does the sign for “smile,” but does not reach for the stick.

Koba dithers, uncertain what to do.

Tommy hits him with the stick.

This time, when Tommy does the sign for “smile” Koba pulls his face into a rictus of terror.

“Good boy,” Tommy says, and gives him a cookie.

The next lesson is about “talking.” Koba learns to hoot-pant whenever Tommy signs for him to. After that they move on to dancing. For this lesson, Koba is shocked many, many times.

Milo is already good at all of these things. He walks upright most of the time, at least when Tommy is around, and he can do lots of other tricks, too.

One day, instead of teaching Koba, Tommy takes both of them someplace in a car. It is a place that looks a little like a room inside of Tommy’s house, except that it only has three walls and no ceiling and it is inside a much bigger room. There are other rooms like this attached to it. The lights are very hot, and bright, and Koba is told to stay still. Then a woman comes into the room and says something.

Her name is Alice. Tommy tells Koba to smile, and he does. Then he makes another sign, but Koba doesn’t remember what that sign means, so Tommy hits him with the stick. Then he shows Koba clapping, which is what Koba was supposed to do.

Then they start again. The woman says the same thing, and then Koba “smiles” and claps.

They do this several more times. Koba knows he is doing the right thing, because Tommy does not hurt him. The woman seems to be getting something wrong. But Tommy does not shock her.

Koba is never sure about what they are supposed to be doing, but he learns to like it, except for the part where Tommy hurts him. They put him in pants and shirt, or sometimes a skirt. He is trained to do things, often the same things, over and over. Once he is supposed to stack up a bunch of objects so he can try to climb and get some bananas from on top of a big square object. As he reaches for the bananas, however, the pile wobbles and he falls. It hurts, but he has to do it over and over again, until he gets it right.

If he gets it right, he gets something sweet to eat. If he doesn’t, Tommy hurts him with the stick.

Milo does a lot of tricks, a lot more than Koba. And he almost never gets hit or shocked with the stick.

One day Koba notices a little thing like a mirror. He sees some very small people in it. The people look like the normal-sized people, who he also can see, and there is one who looks like Milo. They’re doing the same things that the normal-sized people are doing. He wonders if the little people are learning what to do from the big ones.

* * *

One night, Tommy lets them out of their cages, but he doesn’t teach them anything. Instead he watches one of the squares with little people inside, and drinks something. Koba doesn’t like the smell of the drink—it smells like the stuff Roger was drinking before he hit Koba and his mother with the oranges in the bag.

Koba looks for Milo and Alice in the screen, but these are different people.

Milo nudges him.

Come
, he signs.

He leads Koba to the room where they learn things. He goes over to a big black hoop hanging from a rope and starts to swing on it. Koba jumps on and begins to swing,
too. It feels good to let his muscles stretch outside of the cage. For the first time since leaving where his mother was he feels a little happy. There are other things to play on and climb on. There is a ball that Milo teaches him to roll, and they play a game with it.