Dawn of the Planet of the Apes: Firestorm - The Official Movie Prequel

25

From the cover of the trees, Caesar glanced back at the dead and dying humans. He had really begun to despair, to believe that maybe Will, Charles, and Caroline were the only ones in the world who weren’t monsters. But now…

He didn’t know what exactly had happened back there, yet one thing was clear. Two humans—humans he had never met, and did not know—had just given their own lives so that he and his troop might survive. Why they had done so he would probably never know.

But he did not intend to squander the opportunity they had provided.

Maurice, with his long, carrying call, had roused the troop to readiness before he arrived. They only awaited him to tell them which direction, and soon they again were in full motion, as they had been not so long ago. He knew they were tired, that many had little left to give, but he pressed them to follow him, and when that wasn’t enough, he left Maurice at the front and went to the back, where Cornelia and others toiled to keep the wounded and drugged in motion.

He heard the sound long before he saw it—a long hushed tone, growing in pitch. Urging Cornelia to keep everyone moving, he hurried to the upper branches. There he saw something coming. It did not look like a helicopter—it was sleek, like a fish. It was distant, but it was turning toward him, coming from the direction they had come.

Panting, Malaki took out his walkie-talkie.

“HQ,” he said. “Be advised. We are not clear yet. Experiencing difficulty.”

“What sort of difficulty?” the device crackled back.

“Flat tire.”

“Well, high-tail it on foot,” the voice demanded. “Where’s Corbin?”

“Will advise when we’re clear,” Malakai said.

“The drones are on their way. Get clear, now. Corbin, answer!”

It was getting harder to breath, and his head felt very light.

“Will advise when we’re clear,” Malakai said again.

He propped himself against a tree and stared out at the wide, beautiful valley, at the sky and hills. He felt the wind start to blow through him.

“Clear,” he murmured. The walkie-talkie dropped from his hand.

Clear. And he was.

Caesar bit back a shriek as the first plume of flame erupted, engulfing the tops of the redwoods, spewing into the air and falling in long globs and streamers back into the forest. The trees instantly became cyclopean torches. It happened just about where they had stopped; without the warning of the human, his troop would now be burning.

The fish-thing flew on, not directly toward them but a bit to the side.

Another monstrous explosion sent shock waves rippling through the leaves and branches in every direction, and Caesar saw what was happening. The flying thing was making it impossible for them to turn this way or that; it was making an arc of burning trees which would eventually be a circle. They would have to outrun it, be ahead of where the circle closed.

Caesar didn’t wait to see more. The thing was coming fast, leaving death behind it.

The forest shuddered under the force of another explosion as he caught up to the troop. His gaze flickered frantically about, trying to remember if they had been in this place before. He couldn’t allow himself to become disoriented.

A glance back showed flames visible through the trees now.

Then he saw what he was looking for, the flicker of light on water, and he remembered where he was. Bounding ahead, he turned the troop. They were starting to panic as the explosions grew louder, but at the sound of his voice most of the others seemed to steady. They scrambled downhill and into the river below. It wasn’t as deep as he had hoped, not nearly deep enough to save them if they were hit straight on. But it was better than nothing.

Stay in the water, he told Maurice, and then once more he sprinted to the back. Where Cornelia was.

By the time Caesar reached Cornelia again, he could feel the heat from the nearest flames. Squirrels, deer, and animals he didn’t recognize were running past, fleeing for their lives.

He waved on the stragglers, ashamed of the deep part of him that wanted to leave them, to grab Cornelia and make her flee. But they were all his troop, and all his responsibility, and he knew he wouldn’t—couldn’t—abandon any of them.

The rearmost stragglers reached the water’s edge. He grabbed Herman’s arm and started dragging him deeper into the stream. The gorilla wasn’t asleep, but he was having trouble using his arms and legs, a feeling Caesar remembered all too well from having been tranquilized, himself.

Suddenly everything was yellow, and for a single, suspended moment there was an impossible stillness as if he, Herman, Cornelia—all of them—were embedded in amber, like the bug Will had once shown him.

And then the wind came, like the sun breathing on them, searing them and slapping them down in the same instant. He smelled his own fur as it singed.

He shoved Herman underwater, though there was only just barely enough to cover him. The others were all staring at the billowing orange maelstrom above them, so he continued, pushing them down, one by one. Cornelia saw what he was doing, and she began helping him.

Then the fire began raining down on them, and there was no time. Caesar pushed Cornelia into the water, covering her with his body.

Dreyfus stared at the blinking phone, wondering why Patel hadn’t answered it. Then he remembered that Patel was dead, that what remained of the city government was holed up here, in the National Guard Armory. That the city was tearing itself to pieces outside.

He picked up the phone.

“Dreyfus,” he said.

“It took them long enough to find you,” the voice at the other end said.

“Who is this?”

“It’s Phillips.”

“Right,” Dreyfus said, wearily. “What do you want?”

“It’s done,” Phillips said.

“I thought I told you to go away.”

“I’m going,” Phillips said. “I just thought you would like to know.”

“Come in,” Dreyfus said, after a pause. “We can use you on something else.”

“Dreyfus,” Phillips said. “We were here to do a job. It’s done. There’s no way I’m dragging my people into that plague-infested hell-hole.”

“It’s an order,” Dreyfus said.

“I don’t work for you,” Phillips replied. Then the line went dead. Dreyfus stared at it for a moment, then turned it off.

He looked at his monitor, at the reports flooding in. He had predicted panic. He hadn’t predicted this.

He reached for the phone and tried his home number. It was busy, just as it had been the last seven times he had tried it. So was Maddy’s cell.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Mr., ah—”

“Pinheiro, sir.”

“Yes, what is it?”

“You said you wanted to talk to the prisoner.”

Dreyfus nodded wearily. “Let’s go.”

The prisoner was young, clean-shaven. He had good teeth. Aside from the Greek letters tattooed on his forehead and the dirty urban camouflage he was wearing, he looked no different from any suburban kid. He sat in a small white room, staring, unperturbed, through the glass.

“What’s your name, son?” Dreyfus asked.

“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” the boy said. “The first and the last. The beginning and the end.”

“Ah,” Dreyfus said. “You’re Jesus, then. How comforting.”

The boy just smiled.

“You were involved in firebombing the quarantines,” Dreyfus went on. “Men, women, children, burned alive. What possible justification could you have for that?”

The boy looked at him as if he was speaking gibberish.

“They were dead already,” he said. “You know that. Dead, and damned, as well. Don’t you get it, man? The disease, this virus—it’s not a curse. It’s a gift. It is cleansing the world of the impure. It is burning away the chaff. The miscreants, the misbegotten, the mi scegenate, the weak, all will be swept away. All who struggle against the purification will die and become as dust.”

“So you’re just helping out,” Dreyfus said.

“Look around you, man.” He swept one hand in a wide arc. “Look at these people. Two weeks ago, they thought they were civilized. They went to church, went to their book clubs, bought all the shit they were supposed to buy from the places they were supposed to buy it from. They thought they were good people, great people. Now look at ’em. Look what they’re capable of, how wasted they are on the inside. There was nothing in there, man.”

“So why not burn a few,” Dreyfus said.

“It’s our duty.”

“Right,” Dreyfus said, thumbing through a file folder. “Here’s somebody—Louisa Vega. She joined the army and became a field medic. Later she worked for aid organizations all over the world. In Africa, she nursed in a village that was essentially wiped out by Ebola. And she was in the Alameda Point quarantine when you assholes shot it all to hell and torched it. She wasn’t weak, and she wasn’t chaff, and she wasn’t ‘empty’ on the inside, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.”

He stared directly at the prisoner.

“She was someone who dedicated her life to helping the sick. And she wasn’t the only person like that who you killed. Real people, who see their duty not as hiding behind masks and chucking firebombs, but working to hold something together, build something.”

The boy laughed.

“You think you’re going to hold this together?” he said.

“I know I’m going to try,” he said.

“Well, good for you,” the boy said. “When this is all over, and the select inherit our kingdom, I’ll think of you.”

“Oh, son—didn’t anyone tell you? You won’t be inheriting anything. Nobody comes in here without a screening. Why do you think you’re behind glass?”

For the first time, the boy looked uncertain.

“See, turns out you’re part of the chaff,” Dreyfus said.

“No,” the boy said. Then louder. “No!”

“Put him in quarantine,” Dreyfus said. As he left, the boy starting shrieking in earnest.

Back in his office, Dreyfus dialed home again, hoping against hope he would get through this time.

To his relief, the phone rang, and to his greater relief, Maddy answered.

“Maddy,” he said. “Thank God. Listen, I’ve sent a car for you and the kids. They should be there in half an hour.”

He was answered by a long pause.

“Edward has it,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Has it?” he said. “Has what?”

“The plague. The Simian Flu.”

A deep cold buried itself in Dreyfus’s chest.

“Maddy,” he said, “You don’t know that. You’re not a doctor—”

“He’s sneezing up blood,” she said. “Everyone knows the symptoms.”

His head was pulsing.

“You don’t know,” he said.

“I’m so scared,” Maddy said.

Dreyfus looked past his door at the confusion outside, at the boards showing riots and fires and armed conflicts. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He felt imbalanced, like a man on a high wire that was starting to shake.

“Maddy,” he said, “I’ll be home as soon as I can. I’m on my way now.”

“You can’t,” she said. “You’ll be exposed, too.”

“I’ll be there soon,” he said, and put the phone down. He picked up his jacket from the chair he had slung it over and put it on. He found Pinheiro.

“Have my car brought around,” he told the young man.

“Sir, it’s dangerous out there,” Pinheiro replied. “I don’t think—”

“Just do it, son,” Dreyfus said.

“Yes, Mayor Dreyfus, sir,” Pinheiro said.

“It’s just Dreyfus now,” he replied, softly, and left the office.

When Caesar lifted his face up for air, at first all he saw was fire. It danced in the branches above, it raged on the ground, some even hissed and sputtered in the river. But, looking around, he could also see the end of it. If they could make it a little farther, they would be with the rest of the troop.

Safe.

He pulled Cornelia up. Most of the others had already come up for air and were looking around, even Herman. The air, however, was not very good. It was thick with smoke, and at the same time seemed somehow thin.

“Come!” he roared, pulling Herman’s arm. “Come!”

They gathered themselves, then began shakily wading downstream. Burning branches began to fall all around them. The smoke grew thicker. Caesar saw another gorilla slump down, and understood that the smoke was making them all weak, taking their strength. That they weren’t going to make it. He exchanged a glance with Cornelia.

Sorry, he signed.

She shook her head.

No sorry, she said. Cornelia not sorry.

Then she stumbled and fell into the river.

Caesar dropped to a crouch, unable to support Herman anymore.

His eyes filled with tears from the stinging smoke.

Most of them will survive, he realized. Maybe the humans would think they were dead, burned up with the forest, and leave the others alone. Maybe if the humans found his body, it would be enough.

He thought he was hearing things as first, sounds in his head as the smoke put him to sleep. But then he heard a hoot, and another, and splashing in the river. Through blurred vision he saw shadowy figures helping Cornelia to her feet, dragging Herman downstream, and as the last of his consciousness faded, he felt a shoulder come up under his.

Caesar is the smartest, he remembered Cornelia saying. Still, should listen to others, take help from others. Caesar alone strong. Caesar with apes, stronger. Apes together, strong.

Then he passed into darkness.

The lights went out again, just as Talia finished closing up a ten-year-old boy. She worked by candlelight—a precaution they had taken a few hours before. She knew this would be her last session. She was working with an IV in her own arm, just to keep her on her feet a little longer.

She heard someone scream, and then an abrupt burst of rifle fire.

“Get down,” McWilliams hollered, drawing a pistol from beneath his surgical gown.

Talia saw the men as they came in through the door. They had on masks and were carrying rifles. As she threw her body across her patient, she heard McWilliams’ pistol roar, and then the stutter of rapid rifle fire. She felt three hard thumps in her back and side. She wished she could see her father one more time, have one more dinner with him. Tell him it was all right.

Across town, David woke abruptly from fevered dreams. His heart wasn’t beating right, and he didn’t know where he was. He could barely even move, but he managed to tilt his head a little, and in the darkness he saw the glowing numbers of a digital clock.

It was four, he realized. He would have laughed, but he didn’t have time.

Caesar awoke, feeling clean, cool air in his abused lungs. Someone dribbled water on his face.

He lay there a moment, letting the last of the dizziness pass. He did not smell smoke anymore. He opened his eyes and found an ape squatting by him, concern writ large on his ravaged face, in his single good eye.

“Koba,” Caesar croaked.

Koba nodded. His fur was singed in places. He was bleeding. But he was alive.

Caesar stood up, feeling shaky.

Koba brought himself back, Koba said. Brought two others, only. Koba is sorry if he failed.

Caesar regarded the other ape for a moment, then stepped forward and embraced him. For a moment, the bonobo was rigid, unyielding.

“Koba did good,” Caesar said. “Good.”

At that, Koba finally relaxed, and hesitantly returned the embrace.

Caesar pulled away from him.

You are my brother, he told Koba. We are all of us family.