Their vehicles limped across the desert. The engines rattled and popped, and occasionally one would pull out of the column and chug to a painful stop. When that happened—and it happened often—the mutants would abandon it, sorting themselves out into the remaining trucks and cars and jeeps.
Kolp raged and swore. He cursed and railed and lashed out at his men. Kolp was their fear, their anger, the fiery red hatred of a lumbering black beast.
The beast went rolling on.
The first apes to see the mutant army were two of Aldo’s gorillas out on patrol. They were concealed behind a sand dune, staring across the desert, when they made the sighting. “Ah,” grunted one, “look there.” He passed a spyglass to the other.
“Humans!” growled the other. He snorted contemptuously at their trucks. “They’d move faster on foot.”
The gorillas laughed.
The first gorilla pointed to the head of the advancing column. One of the black-clad figures, far in advance of the rest, had stopped to tinker with his stalled motorcycle.
The second gorilla made a noise in his throat. “Let’s show them, huh?” He drew his sword and scrambled over the dune. Keeping low, ducking between the piled sweeps of sand, he ran toward the unsuspecting soldier.
His boots pounded across the desert floor. His eyes narrowed with purpose; his nostrils flared with determination. At the last moment he uttered a throaty scream of triumph. The man just had time to look up curiously.
The gorilla came charging down on him, hacking viciously at him with his sword as he had been taught by General Aldo. The man didn’t even have time to scream—he just grunted. He crumpled slowly, a startled expression on his face.
The gorilla stood triumphantly over the dying body. He stamped his mighty feet and pounded his barrel chest. He roared and brandished his sword and shield and held them high. “Puny humans!” He screamed his defiance at the advancing column.
“Bring that gun around,” Kolp was saying. He had his field glasses up to his eyes, studying the view ahead. The distant gorilla was now giving the body a few final hacks. “Dumb animal,” muttered Kolp. “He has to demonstrate his bravery.” Satisfied, the gorilla began loping back toward his position. The muzzle of the 105mm gun tracked with him. He had almost made it back to safety when Kolp said fiercely, “Fire!”
The weapon flashed.
The gorilla—no, there were two gorillas!—vanished in a high, towering explosion. The dunes shook with the mighty roar. Sand and rocks clattered through the dust and smoke to the desert floor. The dune had been replaced by a tremendous crater.
Kolp smiled in satisfaction. He lowered his glasses and grinned. Gorillas, huh? He gestured to his gunners, and they began to reposition the 105mm for traveling.
Had he kept his glasses to his eyes just a few seconds longer, he might have seen that one of the gorillas was still alive. Battered and wounded, but alive. The gorilla moaned and began dragging himself away.
In the apes’ council room a deathwatch of humans, chimpanzees, orangutans, and one or two gorillas waited. MacDonald stood around with his hands in his pockets. Others stood or sat and muttered among themselves.
MacDonald looked up as Virgil came in. The little orangutan was shaking his head. “Doctor’s doing her best,” he said. “But I don’t believe he can live. Caesar does, though. He refuses to leave Cornelius’ side.” Virgil looked at the man. “MacDonald, how can a benevolent god allow the branch of one of his own trees to crack and cripple an innocent child?”
MacDonald said bitterly, “It didn’t crack.”
The orangutan stared at him.
“It was cut,” said MacDonald. “I picked it out of the ashes of a campfire. The ashes were still warm.”
“But who would want to hurt . . .”
There was a sudden sound at the door, and General Aldo came striding angrily into the meeting room. He was followed by two gorillas. One of them was injured and was being helped by the other.
Aldo stopped in the middle of the room and barked for order. The room quieted. The orangutans and chimpanzees moved to take their respective places at their tables. The humans followed, too.
Aldo waited until he had everyone’s total attention. Then he said, “The humans have attacked and killed one of our scout gorillas.”
The injured gorilla was helped to the center of the room. His uniform was ripped and spattered with dried blood. He moved with great pain. The chimps and orangutans reacted with consternation and confusion to Aldo’s announcement and the condition of the gorilla scout. An old female chimp, elderly and dignified, covered her eyes and bowed her head. Behind her, a young male gorilla roared in anger and pounded the table before him. The room filled with gibbering and barking.
MacDonald realized the precarious position that he and all other humans were suddenly in. He rose to his feet slowly, very self-contained. “Where did this happen?”
Aldo looked at him and glared. But the injured gorilla said, “We were scouting the desert approaches to the city when we saw the army, still far away. They fired their guns. My companion was killed. I came to warn you.” His voice was thick and uneven.
Virgil stood up then. “How long will it take them to get here?”
The scout shook his head. He didn’t know, couldn’t even guess.
Aldo spoke up. “Soon! They’ll be here soon! So we must prepare now!”
He turned, toward a group of uniformed gorillas, waiting at the door. He gestured at the human representatives on the council “Take all humans out. Lock them up. Now!”
The gorillas moved quickly to grab the humans. Several of the men fought back, but the gorillas were stronger. Chairs were overturned in the scuffling, and blows were exchanged. The orangutans screamed at the outrage; the chimpanzees howled for order.
MacDonald, fighting the grasp of one of the bigger gorillas, shouted, “Aldo, you can’t do this! You’re acting against Caesar’s orders.”
Aldo considered this for a moment. Then he moved over to Caesar’s desk, pulled out the chair and sat down. “Caesar is not here,” he announced.
The gorillas hustled the humans from the room. They were brutal in their handling of men and women alike, shoving them roughly out the door.
The other apes sat by, helpless, unsure of what to do without Caesar there to lead them. Virgil rose and slipped out the back door.
The orangutan moved furtively through the settlement. Everywhere there were gorillas seizing control, roughly grabbing humans and rushing them off in the direction of the livestock compounds. A woman screamed as she was accosted by a uniformed gorilla. She dropped the basket of fruit she was carrying as he grabbed her and picked her up. Apples and oranges scattered in the street, rolling across the hard-packed dirt in all directions. The gorilla half-pulled and half-carried her along. Virgil stepped back into the shadows, so as not to be seen. Then he hurried on toward Caesar’s house.
On the other side of the city, Aldo and another group of gorillas began pounding on a door. A wizened old orangutan opened a tiny grille and peeked out. “Who are you?” asked Mandemus.
“I am Aldo,” declared the gorilla.
“What do you want?”
“We want guns!”
“And what will you do with them?”
“Whatever we want!” growled the gorilla. Behind him, his apes cheered. They began battering the door with a log.
“No!” shouted Mandemus through the grille. “This is wrong! Wrong! I am the conscience of the guns! You cannot . . .”
The door gave way. The gorillas came smashing through, barking and shouting, and pushed Mandemus aside. They filled the room with their massive bodies.
“Guns!” cried Aldo. “Guns! Now we have guns!”