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

52

The parapet sagged, and part of it collapsed, spilling the defenders down into the rubble and the throng of apes. Outside, no organized defense remained. The apes owned the street. The tank stalled against the pile of rubble, and One-Eye climbed part of the way out, savoring the damage he had done. Then he realized the full extent of it, and a savage light seemed to shine in his empty eye.

Dreyfus, looking down at him, realized he had a perfect shot. He brought up the barrel of his gun, and at the moment of truth a group of fleeing humans rushed through his field of vision.

“Dammit,” he growled, and held the rifle pointed at One-Eye. “Move,” he said. “One of you, human, ape, I don’t care. Just give me one… clear…”

“Dreyfus!” Finney screamed. “Let’s go!”

There were too many people around. Dreyfus knew that, viewed from the distance of history, a dead bystander would be deemed a good trade-off for a dead One-Eye. But this was not history. This was life, right now, and he could not bring himself to pull the trigger.

So he ran after Finney as more pieces of the parapet fell away underneath him. As he started to retreat, he saw apes climbing up the ruined gate. It was time to split up, guerrilla-style, and figure out how to fight. The irony of the term did not escape him.

The tank, he thought. Who would have figured it would show up, and lose us the goddamn battle.

Finney started climbing—well, mostly sliding—down an angled piece of one of the Colony gate’s pillars. It sloped away from the main market area, which was a sea of hand-to-hand fighting. Absolute carnage, worse than anything Dreyfus had ever seen. He blotted it out, not because he thought he was above it, but because his people needed him to think. How the hell was he going to do that while seeing the beginnings of a slaughter? What he had to do was get out of there, bring as many of the Colony citizens as he could with them, and then turn the tables on the goddamn apes if it took a year, or ten years, or twenty to make it happen.

“Boss! Boss!” Werner’s voice was screaming from the radio room feed. Dreyfus didn’t have time to listen. He concentrated on the column, on getting down it without dumping himself into the midst of a sea of bloodthirsty apes. He couldn’t tell if Werner was excited about something, or being dismembered by a pair of gorillas.

He made it down the column, putting his hands and feet exactly where Finny had. Then, from the scaffolding, they hopped across into the main building. Shortly after that, as they climbed down a steel ladder into the depths of the building’s unfinished sub-basements, they got one more surprise.

Werner was down there.

“I grabbed the portable set and got the hell out of the radio room,” he said before Dreyfus could ask. “There was fighting right outside the door, but I pushed through the back wall.”

This was one of the virtues of living in a place where every dwelling was at least partly assembled out of scrap plywood, Dreyfus thought.

“But that’s not the reason I brought the portable,” Werner went on. Dreyfus looked at him. It irritated him when people said things, and then waited for you to ask obvious questions.

“What?” he snapped.

“This little guy has a recorder,” Werner said, patting the transceiver hanging against his hip. “And I’ve got some sound for you, boss. I think you’ll be glad to hear it.”

“First we get the hell out of here,” Finney said. He led them further down into the sub-basement. The apes would look up first—Dreyfus was counting on it. They weren’t naturally drawn to dark or confined spaces. If he could avoid capture—or worse—for a little while, they might have a chance to figure out what to do next.

Dreyfus began to realize how exhausted he was. He needed to sleep. They all needed to sleep. So they picked a spot far into the corner of the deepest sub-basement, where a steel door opened—according to Finney—into an old Bay Area Rapid Transit maintenance tunnel.

“Couple hours of shuteye, and then we go into the tunnels,” Finney said. “See if anyone else had the same idea. There are other ways to get in.” Going underground, Dreyfus thought. It was bound to happen. He’d done just about everything else.

“Wait. First I want to hear what you got,” Dreyfus said to Werner.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Werner replied. He touched a button on the portable rig and rewound the digital recording a minute or so. When he hit play, the first thing that came out was his own voice, loud and strident.

“Jesus, turn that down,” Dreyfus said.

Werner did, and then started it over again. Much more quietly this time, his recorded voice said, “This is San Francisco. We are under attack by… we are under attack and need help. We have a beacon marking our location! Please—we need help! We are under atta—”

A sharp crackle covered Werner’s voice. Then came another voice.

Another human voice.

“…isco… we… you copy? Repeat… rancisco, do you copy?”

On the playback, Werner gave an audible gasp, followed by something that might have been either an oath or a prayer. Gunshots sounded in the background. One of the windows blew in, and they all heard the impact of a ricochet. Screams of humans and screeches of apes drowned out anything the responding party might have added.

Werner stopped the playback.

“That’s when I got the hell out,” he said.

“Yeah,” Dreyfus said. They all sat, absorbing this new information. Two days ago—or was it three?—they’d all thought maybe they were the last humans, the last sentient beings, on the planet. Then along came a bunch of talking chimps, with the occasional gorilla, orangutan, or bonobo thrown in for variety.

Now came an answering human voice. But from where? Who was it? Were there cities somewhere, or at least thriving settlements? How many? Did this voice coming from the other side of the radio represent another scrabbling, desperate bunch of people… or was the world not gone quite so far to hell as Dreyfus had feared?

They have to be warned about the apes, he thought. They won’t believe us, but we have to do it anyway. And on the off chance they do believe us, and we survive the next couple of days, we’ll ask them for a little help.

“Did you talk to him again?” he asked Werner. “Before, after, or that was the only time?”

“That was it,” Werner said. “But boss, there are people out there! Not just us. We’re not—”

“You better keep your voice down, or there will be less people around,” Dreyfus said.

“Alone,” Werner said, more quietly. “We’re not alone.”

“Sorry,” Dreyfus said. “I meant fewer.” He reached out and gave him a slap on the back. “Good work, Werner. Really good work. Where do we need to get to, so we can send again?”

“Back to ground level, anyway,” Werner said.

Outside, it was almost dawn. They couldn’t risk travel during the day. At least not on the surface.

“Okay,” Dreyfus said. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

As the sun rose over the city, Koba stalked among the highest beams of the unfinished building. He looked down on his conquest. The human settlement belonged to the apes now. It belonged to him. Fires still burned within it, and the apes pressed the humans into service, making them put the fires out… and learning so that they could do it themselves the next time.

Other apes lined these high beams, looking out over the city to the great orange bridge that had brought them here. As he passed, every ape bowed and offered a supplicating palm. He swiped them, not slowing down or looking each of them in the eye. He didn’t need to. He ruled the apes now.

At the far end of the metal skeleton sat Maurice, who looked at Koba without supplicating. Koba waited. Maurice did not move.

How dare he do this, in Koba’s moment of victory?

Koba felt his old friend—the rage he had carried with him since he first realized freedom might be possible—as it began to return.

Rocket pressed up next to Maurice and offered his own palm. Maurice looked over at him, and at last bowed his head and offered his palm. Koba swiped them both, slowly, making sure every ape within view was watching. Two of Caesar’s closest friends—only Koba had been closer—and now they were his.

But as he swiped their palms, he looked at Grey, who understood the look.

Watch these two, his expression said. They are defiant, and defiance must be dealt with.

Blue Eyes sat alone, looking back toward the mountains where his father had died. Koba stopped next to him and, after a breath signed, You fought bravely. Your father would be proud.

Blue Eyes lowered his head and hooted softly, still in pain over his loss. Koba did not remember his own father, and had only the vaguest memory of his mother. He did not understand what Blue Eyes felt. But he did understand how to use it.

Blue Eyes looked up and offered his palm. Koba swiped it.

My apes, he thought. Mine. Together strong.