Dawn of the Planet of the Apes: The Official Movie Novelization

11

Leave it to Carver, Malcolm was thinking. He goes to the river to fill his canteen, next thing you know we’re looking up the ridge at a million pissed-off apes with spears.

He couldn’t believe it. Everyone in San Francisco had heard the stories about the cover-up, right before the Simian Flu had scythed through humanity and left the survivors scrabbling in the ruins. But this? An organized group of apes, with weapons they had to have created themselves, rallying to defend two others. Yet not just charging down to kill them. Malcolm’s head spun at the implications of it.

He stepped forward, both hands out in front of him, making sure to keep Alex behind him. The apes had stopped at the top of the ridge, but one of them was still making a hell of a racket, and spears could start flying at any moment.

Malcolm saw the one in the center of the group, his face streaked with red paint of some kind. The others looked to him. He was the one who had stopped the screaming chimp from coming after them. He must be the leader. And he was looking right at Malcolm, as if he recognized his human counterpart.

Okay, Malcolm thought. Chief to chief. Let’s talk.

“We don’t… we don’t mean any harm,” he called, loud enough for his voice to carry over the sound of the river, but not so loud—he hoped—that he sounded threatening.

Ellie spoke just behind him, her voice a terrified whisper.

“Malcolm, what are you doing?”

“They’re apes,” Carver said, louder than Ellie. He was waving his gun around, from the two apes in the shallows near them to the dozens on the ridge. “You think they understand what you’re saying?”

Idiot, Malcolm thought. “They look like just apes to you?” he responded quietly.

They sure didn’t to him. All of them stood looking down on the group of humans with what could only be intelligence. They were assessing the situation, waiting for orders. Next to the one Malcolm took to be the leader, an older chimp—with graying fur and a dead eye—looked at Malcolm with an expression of hate. Not animal, predatory hunger. Not the anger an animal felt toward a rival. Hate. It—He? Malcolm thought—was also staring at their guns.

Malcolm fumbled for what to do or say next.

“Dad?” Alex said.

“It’s okay,” Malcolm said automatically. The next step was clear. If they started shooting, they would never survive the apes’ attack… and Malcolm did not for one minute believe that the guns would scare these apes off. They had heard Carver’s shot and responded in force with arms of their own. That could only mean they knew what guns were. The one-eyed chimp’s glare made Malcolm even more certain.

There was only one way out.

“Lower your guns,” he said, keeping his voice low and even. “Everyone.”

Carver looked at him like he was nuts. Malcolm couldn’t see the others, but he figured they were doing the same.

“Do it,” he said.

They did. Malcolm kept his eyes on the leader, the one right in the middle. They sized each other up. This was what it must have been like for explorers, he thought. Thing is, I’ve got no empire backing me up.

The chimp planted the butt of his spear in the ground.

“Go,” he said.

None of the humans moved.

“Holy shit,” Carver breathed. Malcolm amended his previous thought. This wasn’t like being an explorer. This was like meeting aliens for the first time. The chimp talked.

He slammed his mind back into gear.

“Okay, okay,” he said. He took a step back, motioning for the rest of the group to do the same. “We’re leaving right now! Just—”

The one-eyed chimp leaned forward, out over the ridge crest.

“GO!” it roared.

The other apes—Damn, Malcolm thought, there are even gorillas—started to shriek and roar. They were working themselves up to something.

“Come on,” he said to the others. He turned Alex around and gave him a push. “Now.”

They started to run, propelled by the rising hysteria of the apes’ screaming. Alex’s satchel slipped off his shoulder and fell down the rocks to the riverbank. He stopped, turning back for it. Malcolm reached out to keep him with the group.

“Alexander, leave it,” he said. Ellie tried to catch him, too, but he was panicking a little, and he didn’t have much. The satchel was important to him.

Not as important as staying alive, though.

“I said leave it!” Malcolm shouted, dragging the boy up the bank to the trees. “Come on!”

They ran. He just hoped they would get back to the trucks before the apes caught up to them.