Alex Irvine - Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

Koba was getting stronger as they fought, riding the crest of his hate. Caesar fought from will more than strength, still feeling the deep wound in his chest and the loss of blood. When both were healthy, Caesar was more than a match for Koba. He had proved it in the powerhouse. But he was not healthy, and he would only be able to hold out for so long.

He grappled only when he had no choice, preferring to swing and dip around the beams and girders, landing a blow here and a two-footed kick there. Koba shrugged them off and kept coming. He was trying to maneuver Caesar out onto a beam that extended toward the frame at the core of the building. The opening extended unbroken all the way down to the basements.

Caesar feinted a fall, then swung under a beam and came up behind Koba, striking him hard in the small of the back. Koba lashed around but Caesar ducked away, feeling his bullet wound tear a little more. Koba leaped after him and Caesar jumped up onto a girder, springing over his opponent’s head and landing on the beam near where he had started.

Screeching in frustrated fury, Koba pounded the girders, which transmitted the sound throughout the steel skeleton. Something rattled behind him and both he and Caesar saw the abandoned crane cab at the same time. It sat at a beam junction not far from the core. Its arm stood up at an angle, ball and hook drawn tight. Koba was closer to it than Caesar. He stepped to it and snapped off a piece of the crane arm, a six-foot length of steel with a sharp end. It was not a harpoon, but it would serve well enough if Caesar didn’t stay clear of it.

He charged after Caesar, who evaded him and counter-attacked as best he could. He was getting weaker, though, and Koba landed two heavy blows with the metal bar. One numbed Caesar’s arm for a moment, and the other opened a bloody gash on the side of his head. Then, jabbing at Caesar with the sharp end, Koba forced him to the edge of the core.

Caesar charged at him in desperation, grabbing the length of steel and jumping off to the side. Startled, Koba instinctively fought to keep his grip. That resistance let Caesar use him as a pivot point. He swung around and dropped back to the beam on the other side, a little farther from the drop into the core.

When he let go, Koba overbalanced—just for a fraction of a second. Caesar took his chance, leaping up to grab the ball and hook hanging from the crane arm. He kicked back and then forward, flinging himself feet-first.

Koba was recovering his balance, but the impact toppled him off the beam. He caught it with the fingertips of one hand and hung there, glaring hate up at Caesar.

Caesar returned the glare. If Koba tried to climb up or tried to attack him, Caesar would kill him. Both apes knew it. Caesar stood over Koba, waiting for him to make his choice. Koba had one last chance to be forgiven, one last chance to supplicate and rejoin the community of apes. But Caesar did not intend to wait forever.

“Put it down,” Malcolm said.

Slowly Dreyfus shook his head.

“You think we can just go back?” he said. Malcolm saw Werner starting to freak out. He held the gun leveled at Dreyfus, who brandished the C4 detonator.

“Dreyfus, put it down !” Malcolm shouted.

Dreyfus raised the detonator, a haunted look in his eyes. He wasn’t really there any more, Malcolm realized. He was gone, back into the world that had died with the Simian Flu.

“There’s no going back—” he said.

Werner tackled him from behind, cutting him off. The detonator flew out of Dreyfus’s hand. Time slowed to a crawl, as the options flashed through Malcolm’s mind. One, he could try to grab it before it hit the ground. Unlikely to succeed, and it would result in Malcolm being vaporized.

But there was a short countdown, which was included as a failsafe. Two, he could try to stop that. Unlikely to succeed because he had no idea how to do it, and it would also result in Malcolm being vaporized.

Or three, he could run like hell and hope the countdown was just long enough to save his life. Unlikely to succeed, and Dreyfus was a good man. So was Werner. Neither of them deserved this. But Malcolm could not save them.

He ran.

Caesar was out of patience. If Koba would not yield, that was the same as choosing to continue the fight. Their gazes were locked, neither of them speaking or signing. There was nothing left to say… but Caesar could not quite bring himself to take the final step.

The building shook, as if there was an earthquake. It rocked to one side, then swayed back, the top floor moving fifty feet or more. Groans and pops sounded throughout its frame. The sudden motion pitched Caesar off the edge of the beam over the building’s core. Koba, already hanging by one hand, barely kept his grip.

Caesar managed to arrest his fall at the crossing of a beam and girder two stories down. The impact jarred the bullet wound, and for a moment the pain almost overcame him. But he hung on, and looked down to see a fireball churning up the core shaft. Simultaneously he and Koba hunched into themselves, averting their eyes and waiting to burn.

The fireball dissipated before it reached them. All they got was smoke, and a passing wave of heat as if they had sat too close to the bonfire.

Caesar opened his eyes and clambered up onto the beam, squinting through the haze. Around him, other apes regained their footing and their bearings. Some had fallen fatal distances. He could see them on the last finished floor, thirty floors below, or dangling broken over beams. The last swaying quieted. Caesar started looking around for his opponent again.

Koba appeared, launching himself from the next floor up, metal spear raised over his head. Just five days before, Caesar had seen him in the same pose, in the air coming down on the back of the brown bear. Now, seeing it again, he was ready.

At the last moment Caesar dodged out of the way and tore the steel shaft from Koba’s grasp. It pinged from girder to beam, spinning away down into the darkness. Tumbling past, Koba grabbed Caesar’s arm, nearly pulling both of them into the abyss of the building core… but Caesar, with the last of his strength, gripped the lip of the nearest girder with one hand and locked the other around Koba’s wrist. He cried out in pain as Koba’s weight pulled on his wound, but he did not let go.

The steel spear tumbled and clanged away into the depths.

Now Caesar’s grasp was the only thing keeping Koba from dropping.

I hold Koba’s life , Caesar thought. He looked down, teeth bared from the strain, his wound tearing open again inside him… and saw Koba, too, realizing that his life was in Caesar’s hand. The one-eyed ape grinned, looking up at his old friend, taunting him with the words of Caesar’s own creation.

“Ape… will not… kill ape,” Koba sneered.

Caesar hesitated. If ever an ape had deserved to die, it was Koba. But where did that leave apes? If every rule had exceptions when it became hard to follow, what good were rules at all? He stared down at Koba, the grimness he felt in stark contrast to Koba’s mocking grin.

Caesar looked up, seeing all the other apes watching him. What he did next would make the difference between apes living together, and dissolving into warring tribes. He saw Blue Eyes, and felt the burden of doing the right thing as an example for his son. He saw Rocket, and felt the burden of easing Rocket’s pain by taking revenge on his behalf. He saw Maurice, and wished he had the orangutan’s placid strength, of both body and mind.

Other apes looked down at him, too, more than he could name. All of them saw Koba swinging from Caesar’s arm. All of them waited for Caesar’s decision.