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

Caesar recognized what he had said to Maurice, coming back to him again. Koba had said it, too.

Who says this? he asked. Apes together strong?

All of them , she said. Even ones who don’t talk .

He watched the last of the sunset, then touched Cornelia’s shoulder, a gesture of thanks. He’d come up here feeling like something in him was broken. Now he felt it was just a bad bruise.

Together they went down to join the troop.

“Hey, Dad.”

Dreyfus looked up as Edward entered the kitchen, stifling a yawn. He was a rangy sapling of a fourteen-year-old, with a bushy mess of brown hair.

“Good morning, Edward,” he said. “I’m surprised to see you up so early, with school being canceled and all. I thought you might take the opportunity to sleep in.”

“I kind of… kind of thought I might see you before you left,” Edward said.

Dreyfus had been reaching for the paper, but he left it where it was.

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

“No,” Edward said, his gaze wandering randomly around the kitchen. And then, “Maybe, I don’t know.”

“Have a seat,” Dreyfus told his son. “You want some coffee?”

“Gross. No thanks.” He went to the fridge and got some sort of energy drink instead.

“You worried about the virus that’s going around?” he asked.

“Sure,” Edward replied, studying the back of his drink can. “Everyone is. Aren’t you?”

“Sure,” he allowed. “But I can’t let it stop me from doing what I think is right.”

Edward’s eyes lit up a little.

“Like running for mayor?” he said. “Like getting in front of that mob the other day?”

“Exactly,” Dreyfus said.

“Yeah,” Edward said. “So, there’s this food drive—to try to collect canned goods for the quarantine shelters. I was thinking I should… help out. Do the right thing, like you.”

Dreyfus sipped his coffee carefully.

“I’d rather you not go out, son,” he said.

“But you just said—”

“I know.” He sighed, and closed his eyes for a moment. “It’s just different when you’re a father.”

“Hey, you set the example,” Edward said.

“Tell me more about it, then,” Dreyfus said.

“Mr. Song, our history teacher, is organizing it. He—”

“Hold up,” Dreyfus said. “Henry Song?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The one with the daughter who was over here the other day for a study session?”

“Dad, this isn’t about her,” Edward protested, looking down at the table. “I just want to be like you.”

“Edward…” Dreyfus said, tilting his head.

“Okay, okay,” his son blurted out. “It’s totally about her. Please, Dad—let me. They have filter masks, gloves, fifty kinds of antibacterial hand wash.”

“It’s a virus,” Dreyfus interrupted. “Antibacterial hand wash won’t do anything to prevent it. Not unless you really scrub. And soap is actually better for scrubbing.”

Edward put both hands in front of him, as if he was shaking an invisible box. “Look, Dad,” he said. “We’re either all going to die, or we aren’t. If we don’t, I could come out the other side of this with some serious points.” He paused. “And I would be doing good, even if my motives aren’t perfectly pure.”

Dreyfus regarded his son’s earnest face.

“You’ll wear the gear,” he said. “Every second.”

“Yes, yes,” Edward said. “And you’ll wipe down and shower as soon as you come home.” He looked his son in the eye. “I’m not kidding about this.”

“Neither am I.”

Dreyfus nodded reluctantly.

“Okay,” he said. “Just be smart, okay? Be safe.”

It struck him that in a better world, those words would exist in another context, a context more suited to the life of a fourteen-year-old.

Edward left, and Dreyfus picked up the paper. The headline might as well have jumped out and slapped him in the face.

“Oh my God,” he muttered.

The 133 retrovirus devastating the region and other cities around the world originated at Gen Sys, a biological engineering firm located in the Bay Area. An inside informant and company records indicate that the virus resulted from a serum intended as a cure for Alzheimer’s disease. According to verified documents, it was designed to help the brain to repair itself. It was tested on primates, and seemed to increase the intelligence of the test subjects.

The virus was developed by William Rodman, a scientist once considered to be on the cutting edge of Alzheimer’s research. His procedures were called into question when a trial version appeared to cause a chimpanzee test subject to go berserk. More recently Rodman began testing an improved version, and then quit abruptly, lodging formal complaints that the testing was being moved ahead too quickly. Rodman could not be located for comment, but a source at Gen Sys has claimed that faulty trials led to the infection of humans.

Independent sources and records obtained by the San Francisco Sentinel reveal that Gen Sys and the mayor’s office colluded to keep the details of this research, and the events that followed, from the public. They have also tried to actively suppress information concerning the escaped apes that wreaked havoc in the city and on the Golden Gate Bridge before fleeing into the Golden Gate National Recreational Area.

Bank records indicate that Mayor House received as much as ten million dollars from Gen Sys and its parent company, Polytechnic Solutions. Police Chief Burston also was named in the documents, but neither he nor Mayor House could be reached for comment. A spokesman for the mayor, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, stated that the claims are “outrageous and utterly without foundation,” but sources inside the administration corroborate the relationship between the mayor and the tech firm.

Official reports from City Hall, claiming that the violence on the bridge was exaggerated, have been called into question. Sources indicate that the primates number in the hundreds, and exhibit unnatural intelligence and aggression. Currently they are reported to be roaming Muir Woods, and Anvil, a paramilitary contracting firm also owned by Polytechnic Solutions, has been hired to handle what has been dubbed “Monkeygate.” Trumann Phillips, the executive in charge of the Anvil presence, could not be reached for comment.

The current death toll attributed to the Simian Flu stands at more than 100,000 nationwide and that number is expected to grow exponentially. Medical facilities are overwhelmed with those who have been infected, as well as victims of escalating violence throughout the city.

“Well,” Dreyfus muttered. “There’s the other shoe.” He set his coffee down and headed for the office.

“You think being locked up might cost House the election?” Patel asked.

“There’s not going to be an election,” Dreyfus said. “No matter what happens to the goddamn mayor. And who do you imagine is going to lock him up?”

“Well, we’ll find out soon enough,” his aide replied. “They’ve announced a press conference, and if anything’s going to happen, most likely it will happen there.”

Sure enough, a short time later House appeared before the cameras. He still wasn’t wearing a surgical mask, but looked more bedraggled than ever.

I almost feel sorry for the sonofabitch , Dreyfus thought. Almost.

After some adjustments to balance the sound, the mayor began to speak.