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

He turned and gave her a little smile. She looked impossibly young in the morning light.

“Last night—” she began, a little awkwardly.

“Was last night,” he said. “And today is today.”

She nodded.

“Do I still scare you?” he asked.

“Malakai,” she said, “you scare the shit out of me. But I like you, too. I can’t fix it. I’m not going to try.”

It had been too quiet, Caesar knew. No helicopters, no human patrols, nothing. It worried him. So when Koba came hurtling into the camp with news that humans were once again in the woods, it was almost a relief.

Scouts arrived from every direction shortly after. Based on their reports, he knew that the humans were all around them. Maurice held up his hands, forming a circle. Caesar nodded, then called his scouts over.

Find where the circle is weakest, the least humans. Come back and tell.

They went out, moving fast. Nearby, Rocket looked doleful. He was recovering quickly, but was still too slow and stiff to run with the scouts.

Below, the rest of those who were fit enough were gathering together spears. The troop had been making them for days, lengths of wood ground against stone to sharpen them. Even now, Caesar hoped to avoid fighting again—spears against guns would not end well. But they might help intimidate their attackers.

He had been thinking more and more about what would happen if the humans attacked this way. He thought he knew what to do, and had been planning with Maurice and Rocket how to do it. His main worry was that, after their victory in chasing off the enemy, many of the apes seemed overconfident. He was still convinced that the humans had—for whatever reason—simply changed their minds. It had not been a victory.

Now they seemed to have changed their minds again. He thought back to the fight at the grocery store and the conversation near the sea. Were they growing more determined, or was this their last, desperate attempt? Maybe, if his troop could get through this, it would finally be over.

Whether or not that was true, he reflected, they still had to get through it.

He noticed Rocket pointing, and saw the first helicopter, flying from the direction of the sea. It was distant yet, looking no bigger than an insect.

Rocket hooted again, and now Caesar saw another of the flying machines, this one coming from the direction of the sunrise. He scanned the sky for more. In all there were eight, ranged in a vast circle around them, tightening in on them just as the men on the ground were. That would make things more difficult. It meant that only in the mid-canopy would they be relatively safe.

He sent Rocket down to spread the word, and continued waiting impatiently for the news of where the weakest point was in the tightening noose. He could guess a few places where it might be…

But why guess? If they went down into the canyon, the humans would have to come downhill in at least three directions. If apes couldn’t climb, it would be bad to be at the bottom of a hole.

But apes could climb.

He realized another thing, too. The helicopters were moving very slowly, probably no faster than the men underneath them. They wanted to be able to see the tops and the bottoms of the trees at the same time.

Which meant he already knew where the outside of the ring around them was located—it was where the helicopters were.

He called Koba to his side, and went down to Maurice.

Take them, fast, to the top of the valley, Wait there.

He could see it in his head, almost like a drawing. Wild apes—apes that didn’t know human ways—would run from the nearest edge of the circle toward the farthest. That would give the circle time to tighten around them, like a choke collar on a neck. By doing the opposite, by moving closer to the nearest edge of the circle, they put the rest of the circle farther away, where most of the humans couldn’t hurt the apes.

The humans would bunch there to try and stop them from breaking through, and the rest of the circle would grow thin, especially if they were forced to deal with uneven ground.

Koba , he said. Find gorillas, brave ones. And some chimps. I need them for a special job .

Yes, Caesar.

And Koba—tell them they might be captured or killed. Only apes willing to die.

Understand , Koba signed. Then he was away.

There was a rush in the trees as the whole troop began to move. Caesar felt a swell of pride at the sight of them. The orangutans were the best in the trees—it was true beauty, the way their long arms reached and reached, pulling them along. They never failed to find their hold. As unhurried as they normally were, in the trees they could move with impressive speed. Many of them had young chimps or gorillas clinging to them, and the largest carried injured chimps and orangs.

The chimps weren’t as masterful in the trees as their orangutan brethren, but they were able to move readily from earth to tree in a way that the orangs, who were clumsy on the ground, could not.

The gorillas moved slowly and clumsily in the trees, and for that reason Caesar hadn’t sent any of them out on patrols—they would have left tracks. But gorillas had their own virtues.

Caesar watched them go, then dropped down to where Koba was gathering the volunteers. He surveyed them: six gorillas and five chimps. All of the gorillas were zoo apes, but two of them knew a little sign. None of them had breathed Will’s mist, but they could follow simple commands, as they had demonstrated on the bridge.

Two of the chimps were from the shelter. The others were from Gen Sys. He didn’t know any of them well enough to know who would make the best leader.

Koba watched him for a moment.

Koba also go , the bonobo signed.

Caesar turned to Koba.

I asked you to find these. You go with me.

Koba straightened a little and put his chin out.

Need leader , he said. Koba lead . Koba willing to die.

Caesar regarded the one-eyed ape.

Can Koba think of plan first, Koba second?

Plan first , Koba signed. Apes first. Koba next.

Okay , Caesar agreed. Go that direction. Break through their line, keep them there as long as you can. Draw them to you.

He looked at the other apes.

“Koba,” he said out loud. “Leader.”

The apes acknowledged.

Caesar grasped Koba by the shoulder.

Bring them back if you can , he said. Bring yourself back.

Koba nodded, then screeched to the others, and they lit out for the trees.

Caesar felt the weight bearing down on him again. They were all counting on him to keep them alive. But not everyone was going to survive today. And what about the day after that? That was for later. There was plenty to do today.

One day Koba is taken from his cage and put in anther cage in a truck, along with some of the big caterpillars. He doesn’t pay them any attention, and they, of course, have nothing to say to him. Or so he thinks.

But then one comes over and begins to pick at his fur. He screams, the loudest noise he has made in a long time, and throws himself against the side of the cage. The caterpillar makes funny sounds and tries to touch him again, so he shows her his teeth. Finally, she leaves him alone. He keeps his face pressed against the wires of the cage, trying to pretend the caterpillar isn’t there. But deep in the bottom of him he remembers someone doing that to him—picking things from his fur, stroking him.

He remembers that it was good—better than good. But this strange thing that can’t talk—having it touching him doesn’t feel exactly right. And even if it is okay, he doesn’t know what to do, how to respond. Doesn’t want to know what to do. All he wants is to be alone, to not be hurt.