Greg Keyes - Dawn of the Planet of the Apes - Firestorm

Caesar was so hungry he ate more than he had intended before letting the others finish it. It tasted strange, and he was reminded of the time he bit a human’s finger. The taste of blood.

We hunt more , he said to Furaha. You show us .

They returned to the larger troop as the sun started down the sky. They were laden with a variety of game. His band had all fed as they hunted, so they laid these carcasses out to share. The other apes came signaling their deference to him, crouching and holding their hands out—although some were so hungry it was clearly a strain. None would come near the meat Caesar placed in front of himself, though. He motioned to Maurice.

Come , he motioned. Yours .

Maurice stared at him for a moment. He looked very weak.

Not food for me , he signed.

I give it to you. You need it .

Not food for me , Maurice repeated. Orangs don’t eat meat. Eat fruit.

Chimps eat fruit , Caesar said. Chimps eat meat.

Orangs eat fruit , Maurice said.

Caesar thought about that for a minute, then motioned his band over.

We hunt again , he said. Hunt different food .

As they walked back over their own tracks, Malakai mulled the situation over. His first instinct was to just walk away. He could pick any direction and find civilization in a few hours—less, if he chose the right compass point. But regardless of his misgivings, he was starting to become intrigued with the situation.

Who actually employed Anvil? The City of San Francisco, it would appear. But why would the city use contractors, when they had a police force, National Guard, and other trained professionals to engage in this situation?

He had been certain from the beginning that someone was hiding something—that this was about more than a bunch of apes loose in the wilderness north of town. Was Clancy right? Was some sort of terrorist organization using trained apes for some unknown purpose? Or perhaps the US government? Whatever the case, the apes were clearly evidence that needed to be eliminated.

Oddly, he had begun to wonder why.

In carrying out his mission to find the apes, following the trails they had left was clearly the wrong way to go. But there were other ways. Figure out what they needed, for instance, and find the sources of those things.

Water came first—all animals needed water. But water wasn’t really a problem, as waking up half-soaked had proven. There were plenty of streams, large and small, so staking out a waterhole wasn’t going to accomplish anything. Food, though—food would be hard to come by. Chimps could probably forage the easiest. Tree bark, mushrooms, some leaves should be edible. They also ate insects, and when chimps got hungry enough they hunted monkeys and other small mammals.

Gorillas preferred fruit, but could get by on tree bark, leaves and bamboo for a while.

“What do orangutans eat?” Malakai asked.

Clancy glanced at him.

“I’m not sure I want to be involved with this anymore,” she replied. “These guys play too rough. It might be their job to capture these apes, but they don’t seem to mind killing a few in the process.”

“It’s hard to capture an ape without killing a few,” he said.

“You sound like you know that from experience.”

He didn’t reply to that.

“Listen,” he said instead. “I can call Corbin. I’m sure he can find out what orangutans eat—probably by looking online for half a minute. But if I call, he’s going to wonder why the mission primatologist wouldn’t answer even a basic question.” He paused to let that sink in. “The way I see it, the only person involved in all of this, who has the welfare of the apes at heart, is you. So now you plan to remove yourself from the situation? I don’t believe it.”

Clancy walked a few paces ahead, then slowed again.

“You have a sneaky mouth,” she said. Then she sighed. “They eat mostly fruit. Tropical fruit, like durian.”

“I’ve had durian before,” he said. “It stinks.”

“Not to orangs.”

“What else?”

“Not much else. Honey, if they can get it. A few kinds of bark and leaves. But what they really need is fruit.”

“So where are they getting it?” he asked.

“Maybe they aren’t,” Clancy replied. “Maybe they’re starving. Or if I’m right, and there’s a person or a group of people behind this, they’re probably crating food in for them. I don’t think Anvil has enough manpower to secure the borders of this entire area, do you?”

“No,” he said, “I do not.”

Up ahead of them, the Humvee appeared on an access road they had crossed that morning. Malakai had suspected that their walkie-talkies doubled as tracking devices—now he was sure of it.

Corbin watched them come. His expression was, to say the least, unfriendly. When they reached the vehicle, he cut the mercenary off before he could get started.

“This trail goes nowhere,” Malakai said. “I’m just as sure that the one with your new corpses is no better.”

“This is ridiculous,” Corbin muttered. “They’re just stupid monkeys.”

“Monkeys aren’t stupid,” Clancy said. “And apes are even less so.”

“Are you saying you can’t find them?” Corbin asked.

“No,” Malakai said, “I didn’t say that. I just need a different tool.”

“And what might that be?” Corbin asked.

“A computer, I should think,” Malakai replied. “But first I will have a bath and something to eat.”

“Fights broke out in several supermarkets today. This scene from Pacific Heights, captured via mobile phone, seems typical. The altercation began over distilled water, which has been vanishing from store shelves as allegations surface that the virus is present in city water. Canned goods are also growing scarce, which has also become a source of friction as many in the city have begun ‘bunkering’—staying at home and limiting contact with the outside world, hoping to wait out the deadly infection sweeping through the city and, apparently, the world.

“This all follows the announcement that up to a thousand people in the Bay Area alone have died as a result of the virus, and tens or even hundreds of thousands may be infected. About the same number have died worldwide, which suggests that San Francisco is ground zero for the disease.

“Mayor House has called out the National Guard and begun efforts to isolate and quarantine the affected portions of the population. Emergency groups are arriving to relieve local medical facilities, which are already overwhelmed.”

“Well, you called it,” Patel said, as the Channel Seven anchor moved on to cover the effects of roughly half the work force not showing up, either because they were sick or trying to avoid being sick.

“A few fights over bottled water?” Dreyfus snorted. “This is nothing. Tomorrow there could be ten thousand dead, and the next day ten times that. We’re going to see full-blown riots soon. He’s going to have to declare martial law.”

“This is a hell of a thing,” Patel murmured. “Hey, speak of the devil.”

The screen showed Mayor House dodging questions outside of City Hall. He was wearing some sort of filter over his mouth and nose.

“Son of a bitch,” Dreyfus said.

“Can’t say as I blame him,” Patel said. “The stores are sold out of those, too.”

“Yeah,” Dreyfus said. “But it gives me an idea.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Have my car brought up.”

“Where are you going?”

“To a hospital.”

As he approached St. Francis Memorial Hospital, Dreyfus saw that the police were manning traffic barriers about a block away. When his car approached the roadblock, Dreyfus rolled his window down. The officer recognized him.