The mood around the humans' fire was alert. Carver had been swiftly bundled out of camp to spend a chilly night in the Jeep, and though the man was not necessarily missed, his absence was a persistent reminder of what prompted it.
"Tell me I'm not crazy," Foster begged, rubbing his goatee distractedly. "We all saw that, right? I don't know much about apes but I know what that looked like, and what it looked like was..."
"It doesn't matter." Malcolm's eyes were pensive and conflicted. "Not to us, and not to what we're doing here."
"So just mind your own business is what you're saying." Foster screwed up his face, grimacing. "But... how does that even work? A woman...! And a – "
"Maybe let's not discuss?" Ellie suggested, tipping her head to indicate a rather alarmed Alexander. "And there's another thing. The power should be on by tomorrow and when it is, she's coming back with us."
"Temporarily," Malcolm added before anyone could butt in with an opinion.
"Shouldn't you run that past Dreyfus?" Kempt piped up.
"We will. Once we get there."
Foster's shrug was dubious. "Easier to ask forgiveness than permission, I guess."
"I don't want anything said about her back home," Ellie insisted. "As far as anyone else is concerned, this is a non-story. Got it?"
The fire popped as Foster and Kempt slowly nodded their assent. But Foster couldn't resist pointing out, "You'll have a hard time convincing Carver about that."
Malcolm sighed. "We'll worry about Carver later."
The gas station appeared like a mirage, an oasis of dreamy neon light glowing through the trees. The orange 76 ball spun lazily atop the sign. It should have been eerie but instead it was strangely comforting; bittersweet, like an old photograph. A folksy rock ballad warbled out of the speakers and through the grimy window Kempt danced beneath the fluorescent lights.
You rode behind Caesar, and though your cheek had been comfortable between his shoulder blades, you wiggled back and put a bit of space between you as he emerged from the trees and steered the horse to Malcolm. You didn't know what Ellie had told him, or how he'd reacted.
Until now you'd only seen their faces taut with concentration and stress but now, both radiated relief as bright as the gas station lights.
"It worked," Malcolm said. "Well, at least here. We'll know when we get back to the city."
"It did," you told him. "We saw the lights from the village, that's why we came down." They'd popped into being like a chain of orange stars on the horizon, a breathtaking reminder that humanity was still out there, holding on.
Malcolm perked up even further at your confirmation but there was an awareness, perhaps a bit of discomfort. He knew. Ellie looped her arm through his and smiled up at him. You wondered how long they'd been together. You'd overheard Alexander call her by name, so she wasn't his mother. Had they found each other in this post-apocalypse, like you and Caesar had?
Caesar extended his hand. "Trust."
Malcolm was clearly touched, as he took Caesar's proffered hand and shook it.
"Tomorrow we will go to the city," Caesar intoned. "For the doctor."
Malcolm and Ellie exchanged a look that said more than words could.
"When you and the apes came," Malcolm began, sounding like he was repeating something he'd rehearsed, "Everybody kind of... freaked out. It nearly turned into a full-blown panic. I'm not saying you shouldn't come with her, or that you can't. I understand why you want to. I'm just saying that people are scared."
There was a near seismic shift in Caesar's demeanor; a stiffening, a near-crackle in the air around him. Even the horse side-stepped in response to the sudden tension on the reins.
Caesar's voice dropped almost to a bass. "Then Firefly cannot go."
"Don't worry." Gently you pulled on his arm, turning him in the saddle to see his face. "It'll be fine. It's not a good idea for you to be there if it'll cause problems, or make the situation look... how it is. You saw how Carver reacted."
That is why I can't send you alone, he signed.
But you trust Malcolm. You just told him so.
But Caesar was impassive, jaw stubborn in its set. He is one. The humans are many.
I want to go, Caesar. Are you going to forbid me?
You'd felt so close to him last night, the feeling lingering throughout today, but now that intimate glow seemed worlds apart from Caesar's foreboding mood. The horse stamped again, swishing his tail as Caesar's gaze raked over you. You carry something very precious to me.
It's mine, too, you rebutted. Malcolm and Ellie watched in uncertain silence as your hands flew. It must look incomparably bizarre, even silly, witnessing a woman and a chimpanzee having a domestic squabble. You'd be embarrassed if they could understand what you were both saying. Do you think I'm being reckless? I did manage to not die before I met you.
"Nobody knows." Ellie's voice was cautious in her interruption. "About the... the paternity. Me and Malcolm, that's all. So that part of it won't be an issue."
"See?" you said in his ear. Please. I want to see a doctor... sooner rather than later. Nothing about this needs any additional tension.
Caesar exhaled deeply, and you tried to douse your own flicker of frustration. His protectiveness was understandable but there was something new in his manner, something off... as if he didn't trust you, as if you were a person-shaped carrier for his cargo. Or maybe that had always been there and was just now bubbling to the surface. No, that seemed wrong; yet it left a sour taste in your mouth. You pushed it aside.
"We'll be heading out first thing," Malcolm said, and you appreciated that he spoke directly to you rather than seeking Caesar's permission. "Can we count on you to be there?"
No fear, you reminded Caesar, and finally he gave in to a relenting nod.
"One day only," he rasped.
Malcolm's eye contact was unwavering. "One day."
The next morning dawned bright and brisk. Malcolm raised a hand in welcome when you rode into camp. Everyone was occupied loading up the last of their gear and yet in your self-consciousness you were convinced they noticed everything about you – your hands around Caesar's waist, the way he gripped your forearm for support as you dismounted. There had to have been talk after the incident on the beach.
"I'll be back tonight," you assured Caesar, patting his horse's sleek neck. His eyes were only green slits beneath a heavy brow. He'd been quiet last night, introspective, and it hadn't abated.
"What, do you not believe me?" you said, half-teasing and half-uncertain. You'd packed a small bag with a water bottle, some food, and a rain jacket in case the skies decided to open up, and you fiddled awkwardly with one strap. But you dropped it when he extended his hand, and slid your own into his rough palm. He brushed a thumb over your knuckles, pursed his lips, and said nothing.
An engine sputtered to life behind you and turned, the odd atmosphere broken. Caesar did not ride away but remained watching from the edge of the clearing as you approached Ellie.
"I won't ride with Carver," you said to her in a low undertone. Whether by design or just busy with his duties, he had his back to you as he loaded a stack of cases on one Jeep's roof rack.
"That's fair," she nodded, and pointed to the other vehicle. "We're in this one."
You tossed your bag in the backseat next to Alexander and climbed in after it. The back window framed Caesar, standing guard like a statue as Malcolm slid behind the wheel and started the ignition. As far as disagreements go, this one was pretty tame, but it didn't sit well. The circumstances of this trip were positive but right now it didn't feel that way.
Caesar grew smaller and smaller in the window as the Jeep bounced away down the uneven track. Eventually his color blended in with that of the dark tree trunks, and it became hard to make him out, until the road turned and he disappeared from view entirely.
With each passing year since the Flu, gas was harder and harder to come by, and you hadn't been in a car for a while. Even on the winding mountain rolled the trees rolled swiftly passed, lessening in density as the elevation decreased. The trip had taken the apes a half-day, but the Jeeps reached the bridge in barely an hour.
As you rolled through the Fort Point checkpoint you angled your face away from the window, on the off-chance the guards recognized you. But if they noticed an unexpected face in the back, they didn't acknowledge it, merely waved the little convoy through.
Though the skyscraper looming over the mall would be forever unfinished the parking garage behind had been completed, and all but overflowed with an assortment of vehicles and stockpiles of gasoline cans, tires, and spare parts. Malcolm, Kempt, Foster, and Carver – the latter still avoiding any proximity to you – stayed behind to unload while Ellie led you and Alexander on a sky bridge into the mall.
It was far different than you had envisioned looking from the outside in. It was... civilized. What was designed as a covered shopping arcade had been converted to an informal open marketplace, brimming with noise and a stereo playing faintly and people of all ages milling about. One had a crate, another a basket of food, still another rushing somewhere with a tangle of electronics. Vines wound up the storefront facades and the levels above seemed to be converted to apartments, joined by laundry lines strung across like Christmas lights.
"You guys really have it together," you commented, rotating in place and staring in awe. You could readily imagine this place was some sort of intentional community, like a hippie commune from the old days. The occasional glimpse of a pistol holstered on someone's belt kind of threw off the vibe... but almost. Total silence was unusual at the ape colony – there was always someone hooting or chuffing, birds prattling, nighttime insects and the wind in the trees – but that was very different than this crush of voices and music, and the cacophony was overwhelming.
"I want you to stay with Alexander while I make some arrangements," Ellie said meaningfully. "Get some food if you're hungry."
"I had trail mix for breakfast," the teen informed you, with a long-suffering but good-natured eye roll, as Ellie wove away through the crowd. "Want to hit up the cafeteria?"
What had been intended as a food court was now a cafeteria of sorts, with a main kitchen flanked by improvised stalls and storefronts with a variety of offerings. It was still early so most of those were shut but you absorbed the myriad scents and sounds as Alexander snagged two trays. There were some glances your way, foreheads scrunched as if trying to figure out if they recognized you, and you lowered your head as you shuffled through the line.
"Oh my God, bread," you squealed, staring at the metal pans full of food as if gazing into a display of luxury jewelry. "And are those real eggs or powdered? Tell me they're real."
"We have chickens," Alexander was happy to confirm.
You didn't know who had cooked the breakfast, even if it was that Hank Carver mentioned, but to you it was sublime. The apes had no qualms about meal monotony but after so long, even simple toast and scrambled eggs were a marvel. While you shoveled it in Alexander ate at a regular speed, his lips contorted trying to keep a straight face, and when he finally couldn't hold it in any longer you let loose with a self-deprecating giggle, too.
Mid-laugh it hit like a cinder-block to the chest you why Caesar hadn't wanted you to come alone. He worried for your safety, yes, but you realized now that was only a slice of it. Apes and humans alike were social species, drawn naturally to their own kind. He'd been raised by humans... and he knew the pull you would feel being among them again.
It was going on a year since you made the conscious choice to separate from the last scraps of society but now, surrounded by cozy chatter and content faces, you could feel yourself sinking into the comfort of familiarity and belonging. Even if you had no ties to these specific people you shared their voice, their faces, and if not their individual backgrounds then an overarching story of humanity thus far.
Caesar's reluctance made a loose kind of sense now. Your heart constricted. Did he really think that of you? Was it just a passing insecurity, or was he genuinely concerned you might not want to return to him? You had to believe the former. It was impossible to imagine otherwise.
You dragged one tine of your fork on your tray's rim. Ten years on since the outbreak, was it too much to hope for an integrated society? A pipe dream, maybe, but surely apes and humans could at least tolerate each other's existence? Of course, that was a question as old as time. If millenniums of human history couldn't solve conflict and violence and war, you certainly didn't stand a chance.
You went back for seconds – Caesar would be pleased – and as you were cleaning your plate Ellie appeared, searching for you across the tables and beckoning.
"I'll take your tray," Alexander said as you pushed your chair back. You wondered how much about you he'd deduced.
Up two levels, a big office suite had been converted to a medical center of sorts. With the beat up carpet and wood paneling, it looked nothing like one, aside from the neatly labeled plastic drawers of medications and supplies. As you followed Ellie down the narrow hall there was a father coming the opposite way, holding the chubby hand of a toddler with pigtails and a newly bandaged chin. She was the youngest child you'd seen in a couple years and you smiled at her as you passed.
When you reached the last office on the left Ellie knocked, not waiting before pushing open the door. It was sparse, lit only by a large window and furnished with an exam table and a large machine on a cart. A man with a round nose and thinning tufts of white hair fiddled with the machine, tapping out a few commands on a keyboard.
"This is Chuck," Ellie introduced, as he greeted you with a jocular smile. "We work together up here. He used to be an OBGYN. I explained to him," she continued, with a particular tone that made you look back to her, "How you told me that from what you recall, you had a family history of pregnancy complications."
"Oh – that's right," you confirmed, understanding. She'd handily made up a cover to account for anything unusual that might show up on the ultrasound. The fib would also ensure you received appropriate care, given the complications the apes had with their pregnancies and thus any that might arise in you. Clever.
"I'll leave you to it," she said, and slipped out through the door.
You dropped your bag on the floor and perched on the edge of the table, the old vinyl creaking. "You can go ahead and lay back," Chuck encouraged. "Shirt up and waistband down, please. This will be cold." Despite his warning you sucked in a breath anyway as he squeezed a dollop of blueish gel on your lower abdomen. With the ultrasound transducer, a short wand shaped much like an electric razor, he smeared the sticky gel around just above your pubic bone.
"We haven't used this in a good long while, what with the generator restrictions," Chuck chatted. "You're in luck the power just came on! We have a few other moms-to-be who will be happy to hear it's back in business, too."
To distract yourself from the tangle of excitement and nerves you focused on the ceiling while he peered at the monitor. The textured drop tiles were yellowed with age, but still in surprisingly good condition. The overhead light fixture was broken but diffused sun came through the slatted blinds. You wondered what the view was like from here.
"I assume you want to see...?" With his free hand Chuck tugged on the cart so the screen faced you.
There it was. A gray bean, suspended in the black oval of your uterus. You may be a layman, and only distantly recalled seeing this procedure in movies, but regardless the fact that something was there was clear to see. A swell of emotion lodged in your throat.
"That's... that's it?" you said, pointing, and he nodded and circled it with the computer cursor.
"Looks like we have a measurement of, hmm, 5 millimeters..."
"So tiny," you murmured, staring in awe. Such a small thing, but incomprehensibly meaningful. "Is that good...?"
"That's a standard size for six weeks gestation, does that time frame sound right?"
"Yes," you breathed, unable to help your spreading smile as he shifted the wand.
"This here is what we call the yolk sac, which is what supports an early stage fetus," he explained. He paused, concentrating. "It does seem to be quite enlarged, which would usually not indicate a healthy pregnancy."
That was okay. It wasn't a normal pregnancy – probably the first of its kind. What an overwhelming prospect. Imagine his surprise if he knew!
But Chuck's face was somber. "What we'd normally find is a little flutter, at the center, indicating a heartbeat. And I'm not seeing that."
He was right. The gray blob was featureless and inert, even when he kept his hand still.
"Let me just... try..." he trailed off, sliding the transducer toward your other hip and rolling it in more firmly.
The only sound was the oblivious humming of the old machine. There was a thin layer of dust on top of the monitor, you noticed vaguely. You had the sudden urge to blow it away.
"No... no. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news." He pulled the transducer away and just like that, the cross section of your body disappeared, leaving nothing but empty, fuzzy black. The crease of his forehead was regretful. "Unfortunately early miscarriages like this aren't uncommon. Sometimes there's a chromosomal issue that makes the fetus non-viable, but often it happens for no rhyme or reason. Have you been having any bleeding, cramping?"
You just blinked at him. "No."
"That happens sometimes, too. It can take the body a little while to catch up and recognize the loss."
The loss.
"Ellie told me you've been living on your own on the other side of the bridge."
Technically that was correct. Obviously he hadn't been front and center to see you deliver the apes' warning, and Ellie must have concocted another white lie to explain your origin. "Yeah."
"She also said you specifically wanted to get back tonight. And that would be fine, we would've been in and out of here in no time, but this changes things."
"Huh?" It felt like you were listening to him speak underwater. "What does it have to do with going home?"
"The family history Ellie described puts you right in the high risk category. With a pending miscarriage I wouldn't be comfortable sending you somewhere without quick access to medical care."
He cleaned off the transducer with a wet wipe as he talked. The cloth went round and round, cleansing and sterilizing any evidence of the gel that had let you see inside yourself. You stared up at the ceiling again.
"Most early miscarriages are much like a heavy period and are no particular cause for worry," he clarified, pushing the machine back against the wall. "But with a family history of complications, excessive blood loss could be a concern. If possible I'd like you to stick around for a day or two to see if things start to progress naturally, and if not, there are routes we can take to stimulate the miscarriage. That way we can manage it in a controlled manner."
There was a big brown water spot staining the corner of one tile.
"Do you need a minute?"
"A minute?" While you'd zoned out Chuck had extended his hand. His eyes were sympathetic. After a second you took it and let him pull you upright, swinging your feet over the edge of the table. "Yes. Yeah."
As the door swung shut behind him you thought of the ape back on the mountain – Robin, you'd later learned her name was – and how she'd mourned when she'd lost her pregnancy, and how everyone had been there to comfort her.
You rubbed the toes of your boots together. A bit of dried mud flaked onto the faded carpet.
Was this karma, some sort of divine justice, for your initial negative reaction to the pregnancy? Cosmic retribution for your ingratitude?
Your skin felt too tight. Your nails dug into the vinyl. You wanted Caesar. Needed him – couldn't bear to tell him, to see his reaction – but needed his voice rumbling in his chest and the steadiness of his embrace. What would he say? What would he do?
You clenched your teeth and inhaled through your nose. Unfair, you said to yourself, unfair – ! That just as you were coming around, as you began to really believe everything would turn out okay, it was torn away from you.
Had the baby ever been truly alive? Baby. Your child. Your body had failed in this most basic function, couldn't protect and nourish what it was designed to, and it was completely out of your control.
There was a knock at the door and you recognized it as the same one Ellie had used. You could hardly catch your breath and you scrubbed back threatening tears with your sleeve.
"Yeah," you croaked, as the door cracked open. Her features were lined with empathy, braid slipping down over her shoulder.
"I guess Chuck told you," you muttered, voice thick.
"No," she said softly. "It's not his place. But I could see it in his face, and when you didn't come out."
"You're really perceptive," you observed, in a toneless compliment. You picked up your bag again, not looking at her as you put your arms through the straps. It might as well have been a Herculean task.
"Dreyfus knows you're here now," she explained. "He wants to see you."
"What?" you said dazedly.
"Word travels fast. I've been trying to stay ahead of it, but..." She shrugged helplessly. "I just said you'd requested a doctor for some health problems. He didn't push it. But new people are very rare here, and you're even more of a special case because of the apes."
As you sidled past she reached out and squeezed your arm. "I'm so sorry to do this to you now."
Like a sleepwalker you fell into step beside her.
Dreyfus' office was in the corner of the building, lit from two sides with a view of a vine-covered brick wall, and packed with a dizzying array of papers and file boxes. The man himself was in his mid-fifties, with sandy-gray hair and a weathered, unassuming face, but his gaze was keen through wire-framed glasses as he examined you from his desk.
"So you're the one from the ape colony," he began, spinning his chair to you. A single nod was the best you could do. Your facial muscles felt unresponsive and numb, as if too weary to provide the appropriate expressions. Judging from his discomfort you must look like a wreck. Everything since the med center was surreal. You almost expected people's features to start morphing, like a Dali painting.
"You, ah, you doing alright?" he queried.
You exhaled. "Sure."
"I want to talk to you about them." His manner wasn't forceful but you could tell it was not a request. He rose and dragged over a second chair, metal legs squeaking on the floor. "The apes."
You had no secrets to trade, no details to tell him that would give him any kind of tactical advantage. Not that you'd share anything that would offer him a weakness to exploit. It would look better if you cooperated, though, and if you gave the right answers, relations between the two communities might improve. You had to focus now.
You managed to paste on something resembling a grin as you sat. "Sure."
"Let's start with how many of them there are."
"You saw them all the day we came," you said dully. "Four or five hundred."
"How long have you been with them?"
"What's the date?"
"Thirteenth of March."
Days and months. Time ticking past in numbers again. It was strangely concrete, like jolting awake from a dream; you weren't sure if you liked or not. "Five months, I think."
"The whole winter, then? How do they live up there?"
His questions ran on and on as endless as a river. He wanted to know about population and colony structure, if there was disease or internal strife, and how advanced they were, and though your answers leaned toward generic they were, for the most part, honest. So far there was no reason to hide anything. Ellie sat on a misshapen armchair against the opposite wall, one leg tucked under her, a quiet observer but just as interested.
"Their alpha male," Dreyfus said, scratching his stubble thoughtfully. "This... Caesar. Malcolm tells me he's trustworthy, can be reasoned with. What do you say to that? What's he really like?"
You felt Ellie's heightened attention as you considered your reply.
"He's a good leader," you said eventually. "He wants to keep his people safe, and happy. He believes humans and apes can co-exist. He wants peace. You could call him a pacifist, actually."
On its own track, your brain sought out the memory of Caesar's dense fur, the sleepy middle-of-the-night conversations, his hard-to-spot half smile and the span of his hands and the barely restrained euphoria on his face when you'd told him you were pregnant.
You swallowed the emotion and forced a steady, indifferent shrug. "He's like Malcolm says."
Dreyfus leaned back in his chair, the plastic wheels clicking. "Is that why he let you stay?"
No, because he wanted to impregnate me. It was this whole deal, quid pro quo. I thought he was insane. But he had food and I was kind of attracted to him. It seemed like a decent idea at the time. You held back the despondent laugh.
"They're not that different from us," was what you said instead. And it was the truth. "Just think of them as... another culture. We have more in common than not."
You thought of Ash's wave of goodbye this morning, and the bag of nuts Leaf had given you, tucked in the bottom of your backpack. Maurice's wise, broad face. Robin's grief. How Caesar had kissed you, so pure and profound, that first time by the hot spring.
You let out another breath, and this time it caught. "They may not be human but they're more like us than you can know."
"I can't stay," you said to Ellie as you left Dreyfus' office. The information you'd offered seemed to placate him but you could tell he still saw you as an enigma, and might not be satisfied for long. "Caesar's expecting me back tonight."
"I understand," she said. "But what Chuck said is true. Most pregnancies are straightforward, but I've seen what can happen when things go wrong and there's no help around."
"But this is important. If I'm not back, he's going to think..." A rising lump in your throat prevented you from finishing your sentence.
"Think what?" Ellie pressed.
"That I wanted to stay," you forced out. It wasn't worth crying about, but with your emotions already high it was all you could do to speak coherently. "It's so dumb. He knows I wouldn't do that! But I think deep down, where he doesn't even realize..."
"Your health is important, too." Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose. "It does complicate things. There are rules about vehicle use," she added, thinking out loud. "Taking you back tonight would've been one thing but sending a messenger, then another trip in a few days..." She paused. "Would Caesar come looking for you?"
"I don't know," you admitted. You could envision dual scenarios as if on split-screens in your head: Caesar pragmatically assuming all was well and you'd be back when you could, or his protective instincts taking over like they had with Carver. And what of the remote but existent possibility that he'd assume the worst, that you'd left for good?
"Maybe," you concluded. "I don't want to risk apes showing up if it's going to cause a scene."
"Then we'll have to think of a solid excuse for Malcolm to go back without you."
"You've been more helpful than you have any reason to be," you blurted. "Thank you."
Ellie's smile was wistful. "There have been times I hoped people would've done the same for me."
"I wish I could do something in return."
"I think you already have. When the apes first showed up, people were afraid. Terrified, even." She toyed with the toggle on her jacket cuff. "But I think if they hadn't seen a human at the front, it would've been even worse."
"That's the reason he wanted me to come," you murmured, almost to yourself. Caesar the powerful, the practical, the stern – Caesar the peacemaker.
"I'm going to find Malcolm," Ellie said, changing tack. "But we should go to my apartment first. It's not a good idea to wander around more than necessary in case someone recognizes you and starts asking questions."
"Good idea," you said faintly. It wasn't even noon – already you'd reverted to thinking in clock-time – and you had about as much energy as a wrung-out dishrag.
The lower stories of the skyscraper were a maze, a patchwork of finished suites and those framed but never dry-walled and water dripping from invisible holes to puddle on unfinished concrete floors.
"I don't think Dreyfus would go for giving you a room," Ellie said, turning down a narrow corridor and digging in her back pocket for a key. "But we have a couch. There's a shower rotation but you can have one tomorrow if you want."
The apartment was a series of small connecting rooms, with boxes and belongings stacked high and tidy to the ceiling; a potted plant, a big gilt mirror, knick-knacks on the desk. The mismatched set dressing of someone else's life.
"Caesar can't know," you stammered, stomach lurching. "Tell Malcolm. He can say I'm fine, say the doctor just wants to monitor me to make sure everything's healthy. Just don't tell Caesar why."
Ellie's nod was emphatic.
With her departure the hush pressed in on your ears. You weren't sleepy but you were exhausted to your bones. Sinking onto the couch with your head tipped back on the cushion you felt you wouldn't mind being absorbed by it. The space was unfamiliar but comfortable; worn in, and well-loved. It was a home.
What made a home? Was it knowing every dimension of a place, familiar with each item and furnishing and where it came from and where it belonged? Was it a feeling? The exhale, the calm, the immediate weight off your shoulders when you walk in through the front door and are utterly relaxed, at ease, and safe? Did such a place exist for you? A week ago you would've said yes.
You'd laced your fingers over your abdomen, a habit you'd developed lately, but decided you didn't like them there, and rubbed the heel of your hands into your aching eyes. These questions could wait.
"Firefly. Wake up."
"What?" You jerked upright, groggy and disoriented.
Ellie knelt next to the couch, her blue eyes big and nervous. "You need to come with me right now."
"What's wrong?" you demanded, stuffing your feet into your boots and tying the laces into haphazard knots. You barely recalled taking them off. "What's happening?"
The hallway was empty but still her response was hushed. "There's an ape here."
"Are you serious? Who?" A stupid question, of course she wouldn't know one from another. It wasn't Caesar or she would've recognized him.
"I don't know." She was missing her jacket, and there were smudges on her shirt that looked decidedly like blood. "Malcolm and Alexander went to the colony but they got halfway there and found an ape on the side of the road. He was on the verge of bleeding out so they decided to bring him back here instead of continuing on."
"Do you know what happened?" you badgered her as you hurried side by side. She took a different route than the one that brought you here, down a poorly lit stairwell.
"He – or she, he I think – was shot." Your footsteps echoed off the high concrete walls. You were both out of breath now and her words were choppy. "He's barely conscious. I don't think we had anything to do with it. But he had a gun on him."
You emerged onto a back alley, lined with crooked towers of crates and scattered miscellaneous junk. It must be late afternoon by now because the light had changed, streaming in golden ribbons over the cracked asphalt.
"We couldn't risk anyone seeing him," Ellie offered by way of explanation as she lead you into the office building next door. Already you were hopelessly turned around but her pace was brisk and purposeful, winding through the dilapidated lobby and down another stairwell into the basement, lit only by a handful of flickering bare bulbs. She made a beeline for a half-open door with a placard reading "authorized personnel only" hanging from one screw.
Inside the access room Malcolm leaned against the wall, starting and straightening as you entered. Alexander remained sitting, gangly legs stretched out on the dusty ground, blinking up at you. Next to him were gauze wrappers and the first aid kid in disarray and a wadded up gray towel, original color indeterminable, now soaked with near-black blood.
Curled in a large dark heap next to a long-ago dismantled boiler was the unmistakable form of an ape. Even facing the wall as he was you could see the blood matting the fur of his haunch, glistening in the low light. His upper thigh had been tightly wrapped but even though the bandage must be fresh, already it was stained the palest pink.
He twitched as he lay, shifting his head restlessly, and as you drew near you sucked in a breath at the unmistakable under-bite, the gnarled scar slashing over one closed eye.
It was Koba.
