Alex Irvine: Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

The hunt was over. The apes had brought down several elk… and they would return with the bear, as well.

Caesar had worried that the bear might have killed the horses. It had happened before.

This time it had not, and he rode now at the head of his troop. They followed the banks of a river, with the giant trees looming in the thick mist on both sides. Around him were other apes on horseback, his closest and most trusted friends. Rocket, who had also survived from the shelter, and who had been Caesar’s rival before becoming his friend. Ash, Rocket’s son, near Blue Eyes in age. And Koba himself. Next to Koba came two apes who were close to him, Grey and Stone. They dragged a sled made from boughs.

It had taken several apes to drag the bear to open ground and onto the sled, but it was not a prize they would leave behind.

They had brought down five elk before Caesar’s call for help had drawn the troop away from the herd. Those lay across the backs of horses, which were led by apes. The rest of the troop stretched out behind, walking on two legs.

Caesar watched his son touch the ragged gashes that ran across his chest. Sensing his father’s attention, Blue Eyes looked up.

You must learn to think before you act , Caesar signed.

Blue Eyes looked away. Again Caesar was angry, and again he held it back. The boy had learned, or he had not. If this lesson had not taught him anything, neither would his father’s anger.

Caesar turned away, his watchful gaze sweeping the tree lines on either side of the river. They were about to pass a human ruin—the one closest to the apes’ home. On top of a tall steel pole, entwined with vines, was a large orange ball. It had numbers on it. Caesar had learned his numbers a long time ago, in Will’s house: 76, the ball said. He had seen many places like this one, where humans brought their cars. Will had brought him snacks from inside them, but those snacks had all been gone for a long time. Now the inside of that…

Gas station . That’s what Will had called them.

The inside of that gas station would not even keep out rain anymore. Apes avoided it, as they avoided most other places where humans had once gathered in large numbers. The forest was their home.

The troop crossed a shallow, rocky stream that fed into the river just beyond the gas station. Then the ground started to rise. Ahead of them, wreathed in fog, was the base of a high ridge. Caesar rode a little faster, but not so fast that the walking apes had to drop to all fours. It was important to them that they were able to stay on two feet.

They climbed through the fog. It swallowed the world, baffling the apes’ ears and filling their noses. The ground beneath their feet and the closest boulders and trees were the only things they could see. The rain stopped when they turned away from the river, and around them the forest was quiet… until he heard the sound of a small waterfall ahead. That low rumble, signaling the approach to home, was one of Caesar’s favorite sounds.

Cornelia would be there.

The fog began to clear as they climbed the base of the ridge and felt a wind coming down from above. It always did, late in the day. Caesar tilted his head back and sniffed. The wind brought the smell of just-after-rain, and with it the scent of their fellow apes. His horse clip-clopped out of the fog and Caesar smiled.

He always did when he saw what the apes had built together.

Their home, which lay behind a wall of timbers and a heavy gate, spiraled around the flanks of the mountain. It was a place made for them.

Apes looked over the walls and hung from the timbers higher up the mountain, hooting out excited welcomes as they watched the troop approach. The noise increased as news of the hunting party’s return spread.

Caesar and the other older apes had spent their lives in human cities, human buildings, human laboratories. This place was unlike any of them. There was a central open area anchored by a large fire pit. Around it scattered clusters of huts and lean-tos followed the natural shape of the mountain’s slopes, continuing along the edge of a steep canyon bridged by fallen trees. The sound of the river rushing through the bottom of the canyon rose and fell with the seasons. The torrent was high now, too high to cross even on horseback, the rocks on either side slick with spray and moss.

The village was united by a network of paths along the ground and timbers in the air, running from higher slopes to the branches of larger trees that grew within the walls. Those trees, which served as lookout posts and homes, were connected to each other by woven grass ropes and swinging bridges.

As he always did when he surveyed the village, Caesar felt a quiet pride at what the apes had done together. Chimp and orangutan, gorilla and bonobo and gibbon, all turned to see what their leader had brought them. The younger apes ran and scampered in excited circles, dodging too close to the horses until Koba signed and shouted for them to get back. Then they chased each other, the thrill of the occasion too much for them to handle.

The troop arrived in the center of the village, near the fire pit. Gorillas knuckle-loped over, seeing the elk and the bear. Two of them could carry an elk or a full-grown brown bear. Once, on the other side of this mountain, Caesar had killed a smaller black bear. The gorilla with him had draped the dead creature over its shoulders and walked back to the camp as easily as if it had been carrying a baby. Caesar was stronger than most chimps—and any human—but a gorilla could tear him limb from limb. They were fearsome when their tempers were hot, though that seldom happened.

Maurice hooted and grumbled at the scrambling children. They looked over at him, standing next to a stone wall, and the old orangutan gestured for them to come back and pay attention. The young ones did so, then settled down and picked up flat stones and pieces of charred wood. Maurice pointed at the wall, picking out each letter of the words carved there.

To help the children, and those of the older apes who had never learned to read, pictograms accompanied the words. In the first, two apes faced each other, teeth bared. A harsh diagonal line slashed through both of them. The translation was written next to the picture.

Caesar had not wanted to use so human a symbol, but it was better than any he could think of. An open book with the alphabet showing on its pages appeared to one side of the second line, and on the other side there was a clenched ape fist.

The same symbol was repeated at the end of the third line, but below the open book lay a careful carving of the four kinds of great apes, arms linked together.

Every young ape learned how to write. It was another human thing Caesar had not wanted to copy, but writing was a powerful tool no matter who it came from. Apes were stronger for it. Maurice, a natural teacher, kept the children focused on each letter in turn. The older ones, impatient, were given whole words to copy.

Caesar thought back to the first time he had seen Maurice sign. At that moment he realized he wasn’t the only one in the shelter who could do it, and knowing it had given him hope. More than any other ape who had fought with him in those days, Maurice was his trusted friend.

Two gorillas pulled the bear off the sled. Near them, Blue Eyes got down from his horse, slowly, watching the gorillas carry the bear away to be butchered. Ash skipped through the crowd and grinned at Blue Eyes’ wounds.

He never would’ve gotten me , Ash signed. But I’m quicker than you.