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

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The waiting was killing them. If it had been up to Carver, he would have started the truck and gotten the hell out of there the minute Malcolm was out of sight. But that wasn’t really possible with his woman and his son sitting right there. So he and Foster sat up in the front and Malcolm’s little family sat in the back, Alexander reading the same comics over and over.

Weird kid. Carver didn’t like him. He didn’t like Malcolm either. Ellie was all right, easy on the eyes and pleasant, but he’d have been just as happy to never see any of them again. What he wanted was a wrench in one hand, a beer in the other, and the sure knowledge that they’d come up here with every gun in Fort Point, then used them to put those apes in the ground.

Instead they were sitting in a truck up in the mountains with pine needles raining down all over them. At least he had a cigar. It was hand-rolled in the Colony from lousy tobacco they’d grown themselves, but it was a cigar.

Pine needles. Why were there so many…?

“Oh, shit,” Foster said, as Carver heard rustling in the trees. He pitched the cigar and rolled up the window.

“That’s it,” he said. “We’re gone. It’s probably two hours anyway.” He locked the doors and reached for the ignition as the trees around them were suddenly full of apes.

“It hasn’t been two hours,” Ellie protested. “You can’t—”

“The hell I can’t,” Carver said. “You see what’s out there? Probably one of them brought Malcolm’s head to show us.” He started the truck and jammed it into gear. Around them, the apes drew closer. They were in the mirrors, too, coming around behind the truck. Carver figured he’d have to run over some of them to get out, but that was fine with him.

“Wait! Stop!”

It was the kid. Carver looked back out the windshield and saw Malcolm being marched out of the woods, flanked by two mean-looking chimps. He thought fast and then made his decision. “Nope. We’re gone.”

But when he looked in the mirror again, the path back down the mountain was blocked by a bunch of chimps on horseback.

“Shit,” Foster said again. “We’re dead.” Carver killed the engine as Malcolm and his escorts came to the driver’s-side window. Malcolm motioned for him to roll it down. Carver hesitated, but he did it. Hell, if the apes wanted in the truck, they could get in the truck.

“Give them your guns,” Malcolm said as soon as the window was down. “That was the one condition.”

“The one condition of what?” Ellie asked.

Malcolm nodded toward the ape leader. The chimp with war paint was watching them from across the clearing, near the second truck. “He says we can stay.”

“Great,” Carver said. He wished he hadn’t tossed his cigar.

They marched up the slope toward the dam, carrying their gear and watched closely by a heavy guard of apes. Some of them rode horses, more were on foot. Kemp, Foster, and Carver stuck close together and tried not to look the apes in the eye.

Malcolm couldn’t quite believe he’d pulled it off. Well, he hadn’t—not yet. The dam wasn’t running. But he’d come back to the apes and managed not to get harpooned. That was a pretty good first step, all things considered. It was late afternoon and it looked like they would live through another day. Probably. But they still needed to be careful. There was no telling how long the ape leader’s goodwill would last, or how long One-Eye would contain his temper.

“Stay close to me,” Malcolm said to Alexander, but meaning it for both him and Ellie.

The sun was low over the ridge when they got to a clearing at the edge of the river. The ape leader signaled a halt and pointed at the ground. Malcolm looked at him, uncertain for a moment… then he figured it out.

“You want us to camp here?” he asked. The chimp nodded. Malcolm looked to the others, who started to drop their gear and make what preparations they could before it got dark. He looked over at One-Eye, who was watching the humans with what seemed like disgust. A thought occurred to Malcolm, incongruous given the circumstances. But he thought he’d give it a try.

He walked up to the ape leader’s horse.

“Thank you,” he said. Then he placed one hand flat on his chest and said, “Malcolm.”

The chimp looked surprised. He considered Malcolm, deliberating over something. Then he tapped his own chest.

“Caesar.”

Well, of course, Malcolm thought. The leader of a renegade band of genetically enhanced apes is named Caesar. What else would it be?

Without another word or gesture, Caesar wheeled his horse around and rode off. The rest of the apes followed.

“Looks like we’re here until morning,” Malcolm said. “Let’s get some sleep.”