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

Together, the eight of them rushed toward the upper canopy, straight toward the sound of the flying machine. He had prepared them for this, just in case, and the seven who accompanied him knew what they would have to do. But the beating of the blades grew louder, and then the shadow fell against the uppermost boughs. Caesar was suddenly fearful that they were too late.

When he reached the top of the tree he saw his worries realized. The machine was already past their position, headed straight toward his troop.

He cast about desperately until his hand found a dead branch. He snapped it from the tree and hurled it with all of his might. He watched it turn, end-over-end, and hooted with triumph when it struck the rear rotors of the helicopter. He shook the treetop, screaming at the top of his lungs as Rocket and the others joined him and added to the din.

The helicopter banked and came back toward them.

Good , Caesar thought, in relief.

Dallas, a young chimp, screeched and braced to hurl himself at the helicopter.

“No!” Caesar shouted. Dallas hesitated, then aborted his leap.

Something hissed through the air and struck a branch. Caesar recognized it—one of the darts that made apes fall asleep. He flicked his gaze up and saw the shooter perched in the aircraft, taking aim again.

Follow , he commanded.

Dallas was so excited he almost disobeyed, but then he submitted, and they all went, launching themselves from tree to tree, dipping out of sight into the canopy but always reappearing, trying to keep the flying machine occupied and draw it away, always away from the troop, toward the high ground to the north.

The sun was on the horizon when Caesar called the seven of them down. Hoping they had drawn the hunters far enough, they settled beneath the protecting branches of the trees and the fog that had rolled in from the sea. They waited for the helicopter to leave.

But it didn’t leave. It kept circling, and after a time, Caesar heard another join it. And another.

Sam, another chimp, began to whimper.

What? Rocket wanted to know. What to do?

Don’t know , Caesar replied. Wait .

But he didn’t like it. Soon it would be dark. Humans couldn’t see any better than chimps. Everyone would be blind. Why were they still there? Could the machines see at night? He knew it wasn’t impossible.

Caesar glanced over at Rocket, who rewarded him with a look of utter trust, and he felt his gut tighten. Because he knew something Rocket didn’t.

Back in the “shelter” where he had been held prisoner, he had known what he wanted to do, and he had worked out how to do it, piece by piece. First he had figured out how to get out of the cages at night, then how to gain dominance over Rocket and the others, then how to escape the facility. He had gone to Will’s house and found the mist that made apes smarter. One thing at a time, all put together beforehand.

He had had a plan .

Now he was just reacting. He hadn’t expected them to follow him out here. This was where apes belonged—people belonged in the city. Things had been wrong before, but now they were as they should be. It seemed to him so obvious that he thought the people would understand, especially since he had been careful to hurt as few of them as possible. He didn’t want humans as enemies. He didn’t want them as anything .

He just wanted apes to be free.

In hindsight, he should have known better. But his plan had ended with them in the woods, safe, and free. He hadn’t thought it through any further.

They were free, but they were far from safe. His only hope was to evade the humans long enough that they decided it wasn’t worth the trouble.

His thoughts were interrupted when bullets began shredding the leaves above them. He knew from the sound these weren’t the kind that knocked apes out—these guns sounded like the ones humans had used on the bridge. Loud. It was unexpected. Since the bridge, the humans had tried to capture them, but never to kill them.

Down , he commanded.

They scrambled to obey and, one by one, the eight apes dropped as quickly as they could without injuring themselves. By the time they reached the rich leaf mold of the forest floor, it was very nearly dark. The ground here was steep and somewhat rolling. Caesar motioned for them to follow, and they began moving away from the helicopters. He felt exposed and out of sorts. When it was dark, apes were supposed to be in a tree, as high as possible.

They moved through the fog. There was a moon, but very little of its light worked its way through the vast, leafy ceiling above.

He heard something and stopped, tapping Rocket on the shoulder. Rocket passed the order around by touching the rest.

Caesar heard the sound again—a thin, faint human voice, like he used to hear coming from the phone when Will was using it. He looked around frantically, trying to find the source.

“Up!” he whispered to the others.

As they started back to the trees, guns barked, this time the quieter hiss-pop of tranquilizer rifles. A dart thudded into the redwood inches from Caesar’s face. He saw them now—men in black clothing, wearing some sort of masks.

I did exactly what they wanted me to do , he understood suddenly. Stupid .

They swarmed desperately up into the trees, darts hissing past them. He heard a human cry of fear and then an explosion of real gunfire. An ape screamed in pain, but Caesar’s ears were ringing enough he that couldn’t distinguish who it was. They were fleeing in absolute darkness now. He flung himself into space, reaching for the next limb, hoping it would be there.

It wasn’t.

He fell with a yelp, arms flailing. He caught a branch, and it felt as if his arms were being pulled off, but he swung from it, again reaching into the night, trusting this place he loved, desperately hoping it would save him.

More guns chattered in the darkness. He went desperately higher, knowing the helicopters were still there, hearing the dread beating of the wind they made, but knowing he had to get away from the men with the guns.

They gathered together in the middle canopy in the shelter of a mass of twisted limbs.

Caesar tapped Keling, one of the orangutans. He couldn’t see any better than Caesar, but orangs were better at finding their way through the branches, day or night. Keling understood, and allowed Caesar to climb on his back. The others followed his example, the chimps each climbing on to the orangs’ backs, and soon they were creeping slowly from tree to tree. There were a few more pop-hisses of gunfire, but it seemed random.

The sound of the helicopters faded as they went, and Caesar reasoned that if the machines weren’t following them, the humans probably weren’t either. He signaled Keling to take him down. They couldn’t stay in the area, not with these humans who could see at night, and although it went against his instincts, they could travel much faster on the ground and lead any humans who might track them even farther afield.

Caesar kept them going uphill until dawn, and then they collected together.

In the light he realized Dallas was missing. Everyone else was tired and sore, but otherwise unscathed.

Wearily, Caesar led them back into the trees, where they changed their direction, hoping to intercept the others from the troop. Hoping as well that the false path they had just made would keep the humans occupied for at least a day or so.

The next morning, after some decent coffee and a bagel, Talia rolled into work feeling pretty good, and reasonably hopeful. Mornings usually weren’t too bad, especially in the middle of the week.