Road to Rhohas – Chapter 7

"Spiritual Advisor?" Alan paused with his fingers entwined in his hair. "Spiritual Advisor!"

"Well, any number of the old gods would welcome my devotion," Galen replied defensively. "Besides, he burst in suddenly. I had to say something."

"Spiritual Advisor," the man shook his head roughly with a chuckle.

"Osmur's assistant, the orangutan we saw," Galen elaborated, "He was panicked about Urko's discovery of the town's school for humans. He burst right in to Gressa and Osmur's home while we were talking." The chimpanzee lowered a large sack to the ground as he glanced around the campsite.

"School? You told me humans didn't go to school," Alan reminded him as he resumed his knife work.

"That's why Judan was panicked. He seemed most concerned about keeping himself out of the trouble Urko plans to cause because The Circle was permitted."

Virdon nodded. "How serious is it? Having a school? The Circle, you said?"

"In normal circumstances, Rhohas would face sanctions, and both Osmur and Judan personal fines, possible demotion, but usually the penalties would be light unless there was a pattern of noncompliance with Council dictates. The Circle would be disbanded at once, in spite of the value it brings. Another foolish prejudice and fear that humans cannot, or should not, be educated beyond the basic skills of the work assigned to them with the ape Master determining what skills should be taught. Urko needs to solidify his position with the Council after the embarrassment of allowing the two of us to remain at large, and Burke's escape, so he will demand the harshest penalty allowed. However, his coming here was to invent a human rebellion that he single-handily destroys, demonstrating the great General Urko in command." Galen made no attempt to mask his sarcasm.

"The humans in the cage? That's his rebellion?" The man lowered the long, thin pole he had been whittling to add a sharpened point. A second, completed rudimentary spear lay on the ground next to him.

"Hmm. Trayus happens to be the Guide, the teacher of the Circle, but Urko targeted him before he knew that, and a wagon driver named Phyn."

"Yeah, Pete and I noticed the similarities right away, and now Urko deliberately going after your cousin. I guess we don't have to look much harder to know he's not happy with the three of us and taking it out on them."

"His own guards said as much to Osmur. He needs to improve his position after Pete escaped under his watch and punish someone since he can't find us. Speaking of, where is Pete?" Galen queried as he looked around the campsite.

Even in the dark, Galen felt Alan wince as he maneuvered up from the ground using the pole as a lever. Galen knew Alan still had some residual pain from the gunshot wound he suffered a few months back, but he had a feeling there was another underlying cause. "Pete was upset about Urko beating those men because they looked like us, at least from an ape point of view. He needed to take a walk. He went to the river."

"How long has he been gone?" The chimp's snout wiggled with worry.

"I'm not sure." Galen's brow raised as Alan uncharacteristically avoided an answer. "I got busy making our pointed sticks," he added with a slight grin. "There's a whole garrison of gorillas out there, and we need some kind of defense if we're going to facilitate a cage-break."

"I was with Gressa and Osmur over two hours. She sent dinner." He indicated the sack with a nudge of his toe.

"Well, maybe at least that long…"

Galen started in the direction of the river. "Are you sure he's alright?"

"Well, I said something I regret," Alan admitted. The man's guilty tone stopped Galen in his tracks. "He may just be—umm, managing his temper. He probably didn't want to be alone in a room—or anyplace else— with me right now."

"Alan—?" A chimp eyebrow raised. The lack of the man's usual confidence was unsettling.

"Galen, I know. He's hurting, and I do know that. He actually started opening up about it—may have been more out of anger than wanting to talk about it—but then I threw it back in his face. He started to reveal a little bit about what he's going through, but when he wanted to leave and go cool down, I jumped his case about running off this afternoon and that stunt yesterday." Virdon didn't need to hear any words of recrimination; Galen's low register grunts said it all. "The words spilled out like we were back in our own time, and I had to handle him. Like he needed me to fix everything he did." Alan dropped his head. Galen let the quiet stretch uncomfortably. It forced the colonel to continue.

"As you can probably imagine, Pete has always had a—willful streak." The chimp snorted.

"He was never outright insubordinate or defiant. Don't get me wrong. He walked up to the line often enough. And even though he never let it show when he was being called out on something, you could sense that smirk of his—standing there at attention hiding that smirk. He challenged them to prove he was wrong. He just saw things in a way others didn't always see. Or felt the need to fight for someone or something that didn't always mesh with the brass—um, his superiors. But I never had another person under my command who fought so hard to earn his place. He deserved to be there. I know you don't have the context to fully understand it, but Pete was—is—an exceptional pilot. He could do amazing things with an aircraft, and spacecraft. I called it a divine gift. And it was something special to him, his hands on the controls while flying at speeds—I don't know how to explain to you. Fast enough to take us to one of those stars out there." Virdon waved toward the night sky.

"That gift protected him somewhat. Allowed a bit of tolerance for his cockiness. But there were others that looked for ways to ground him—remove him from the pilot's seat. As his commanding officer, it became a habit, I guess. Burke would push the limits, and I had to save his ass and then chew it on the other side."

Galen lowered his head as he listened, soft chirps slipping over his tongue. Nothing Virdon said came as a surprise to him—he had come to understand the sometimes tenuous relationship between these two humans very well in the months they had been together; maybe better than either would admit to the other. Alan continued to speak.

"Since he went through—whatever it is he went through—with Wanda, you said it first, he's struggling to control something in himself. He told me so when we argued before. He trusted me, Galen, confided in me but I couldn't let him be—." Galen's snout twitched as he heard the crack in Alan's voice. "Instead of listening to him, I handled him instead—and I did a damn poor job of it. Should have thought more about controlling myself than him.

"I was starting to worry but, honestly, I didn't trust myself to go looking for him by myself. He might just tell me to go—well, to go away. I don't want to push him again. I think it would be better if we went together."

"You need, what does Pete say, 'a go in the middle'?"

Alan was grateful for the brief smile. "Well, yes, 'a go-between.' The problem, Galen…," Alan paused, choosing his words with care, "…the problem is I want to help him work through whatever is eating at him, but he can't keep making such dangerous choices. I can't just look the other way when he puts all of us, including himself, at risk.

"Speaking of risk, we can't camp here. Too open. Too approachable. Too many gorillas. Can you think of anyplace that would give us some shelter, some cover?"

"You do understand that I did not spend inordinate amounts of time in the woods when I was here five years ago," the chimp reminded him as his voice trailed off into a pensive look. With his foot, Alan kicked at the wood scraps from his carving, brushing them apart to appear more natural. Galen raised a crooked finger and began to stab at the air excitedly.

"There was a place not too far from here. Geline and I…"

"Geline?"

"Yes, Geline. Sweet country female…"

"Impressed by the big city male, no doubt," Alan teased. Galen ignored him.

"…Geline and I were taking a walk to find a little privacy and some children were playing. A semble in his palm convinced one of the scamps to show us his favorite hiding hole. Not ideal for an extended stay. It was a bit damp and cramped but it is a cave, more like a crevasse, really. We can easily camouflage the entrance. Enough room for the three of us. It's not far."

"We'll move after we collect Pete. And then we need to finalize the plan on getting those men released and keep Osmur on the good side of the High Council."

"One of our harder challenges."

"Well, if I'm half as good at planning that as I am at attacking my friend when he's down, we'll have the whole mess sorted by morning."

Night came allowing most of the Central City platoon to return to their camp outside Rhohas near the walls of the garrison. As decreed by General Urko, tents were organized by squads of six, three durable shelters housing two troopers. Additional tents were assigned by rank. Neat rows were aligned but positioned with several feet between to prevent an enemy from assaulting all simultaneously. No one expected an attack, but the General demanded order, and none sought to draw his irascible eye, Meelar among them. In fact, the gorilla sought to avoid any further direct contact with his supreme commander.

The unexceptional, middle-aged trooper wandered near his tent, anxiously pacing in an obscure area, his rifle in hand. He would claim sentry duty if anyone asked, although his last official camp assignment was the day before. Anxiety lapped through him like water threatening to engulf him. The events of the day churned in his head trying to understand how something of such promise had twisted so badly for him.

After his return from the meeting with Hafva earlier that day, Urko had summoned him by name. As his fellow troopers were being assigned to special duty in the town at Urko's orders, he had strutted from the camp proud to be a necessary part of the investigation, his direct involvement contributing to the mission. Listening to the jeers and heckles of his fellow troopers as he left the camp, Meelar ignored their obvious envy of his newfound good fortune and overdue respect. And they had no idea of his hidden assignment. That he had a secondary purpose assigned by Bulta, Urko's assistant, added to the intrigue. He felt his chest expand with the knowledge that he held secrets even from Urko himself.

As he rode to meet with the Security Chief in Rhohas, Meelar planned his presentation. He could not reveal his covert meeting with Hafva at the winged stones nor the scheme arranged to provide Urko with proof of his rebellion by the banded humans. Bulta had been very clear about that. Meelar had trailed Hafva back to the mines, keeping some distance between them, for another unproductive talk with Vulko, the Overseer. Meelar let him rant about his contributions to profits and stringent control of mine production. The City gorilla didn't listen, letting his mind wander to how he would spend the extra sembles Bulta had promised would soon jingle in his pockets. No matter what he thought of the overseers work, in the plan laid out, Vulko would take the fall for the insurrection Urko and Bulta wanted. Somebody had to. This screeching ape was as good a choice as any and the more he blustered, the more Meelar was happy to see him be shoved headfirst into disaster.

When Meelar insisted on his tour of the complex per Urko's orders—the Chief hadn't said a word about it, but Vulko didn't know that and he and Hafva needed to finalize their plans—Hafva, making a show of belligerence, begrudgingly took him as Urko's representative into the mines, the common buildings including the explosives shack, and through the rough housing structures. During the "tour," they secretly agreed on the time and place of the planted explosives. An hour before dawn, a targeted human shack would explode. Hafva provided no details, but implied evidence would be provided to point to the humans as the culprits, and Vulko as the ape in charge who failed to keep his humans in line.

Meelar had shoved all those thoughts to the back of his tongue. Now was not the time to make a mistake and let slip what Urko shouldn't know until the right moment. And it would be his job to tell him, several hours from now, further proving his importance to the success of the Chief's mission. Meelar had adjusted his uniform to the general's mandatory presentation as he dismounted and walked through the town square to report to the Security Chief. He was told he could be found at the jail. Meelar passed the cage of six humans, two assigned guards circling the area, the small chimpanzee veterinarian tending to one with dark hair while an older one with lighter hair knelt beside them. The remaining leeches—ummm, humans—sat nearby. Some of the town residents were beginning to gather outside the shops and in the tavern visible from the cage, because Urko had called for an important announcement in another hour. He wondered if any of the six humans would be alive in the next two.

The trooper had strolled into the jail office announcing his arrival. He greeted Lt. Ullic with a nod and reported himself as he stopped at attention before Chief Urko, who sat at the desk, an open scroll in his gloved hands. His pistol sat next to him. Meelar had expected to report on his "findings" of the haphazard condition of the mines which he and Hafva had devised, pointing a finger directly at the overseer for missteps that allowed the rebellion to ferment. Instead, Urko raged at him, throwing scrolls and papers from Vulko's presentation against his chest. He declared his work inadequate and unacceptable warning that only results mattered. The Chief had rounded the desk and locked his hand onto the collar of his vest, pulling his snout inches from the commander's. The snarl of his words echoed in Meelar's thoughts as he now paced in the camp, bringing the same cold touch of fear as when Urko's breath had blown hot into his face.

"Trooper, get me what I want, or I will leave your worthless, rotting hide in this misbegotten strip of hell. Take over and guard the cage. Watch how an enemy is brought down. I expect no less from you by tomorrow." Urko had shoved Meelar toward the door before he spoke a word of his carefully prepared report. Ullic, his face impassive, led him out and assigned him to the cage.

"Urko gives one opportunity," the gorilla warned him once the relieved guard was out of earshot. "I suggest you provide him what he demands."

Meelar did watch, his gut in knots, as the general took over the square at Rhohas, twisting cords into a thick rope, then dropping the noose onto the Prefect's neck.

The unexceptional, middle-aged trooper now watched the skyline northwest of the garrison toward the mines. His chest deflated as his heart pounded in his ears. How had he arrived at this place where nothing remained in his control? Was it ever? He did as he was told. Followed Bulta's directives. Attended to Hafva's instructions. His career, his fortunes, his future depended on another's actions, yet the outcome rested solely on his head. Low, fearful growls rumbled in his throat as he paced, waiting for dawn.

Pete leaned into a modified sprinter's crouch, backside down balanced over his toes, one hand braced against a boulder, the other on the hard ground in front of him. Even without Galen's description, he would have found his way here. The riverbank remained level with the ground for a bit more than a quarter mile before the lift of stonier ground slowly dropped the water level until it ran several feet below where he trotted. From a distance, he could see the structures and knew he was near. In the dark, the troughs looked like two arms leaning down into the steady flow of the river. When he reached them, he glanced down to see rungs chiseled into the rocky wall that allowed access to a slim, stony beach. He shook his head with a flush of anger knowing only humans made that climb to engage in the dangerous work of manipulating the ore through the water then carrying it back up again.

He followed the troughs, sticking to a series of boulders that ran almost parallel with the handmade structures, giving him additional concealment. He was confidence he wouldn't be seen if he remained cautious. He could barely see his own hand covered in dried muck held before his eyes. He purposefully kept them fisted hiding the pale color of his palms and fingertips which he kept clean to keep his ability to grip unencumbered. He ignored the weight and itch that covered the rest of him. He crouched in his current position, studying the layout before him.

What in the hell are you doing? Burke's own inner voice questioned, although Virdon's disapproving face accompanied his internal struggle as he studied the visible buildings of the mining encampment while remaining concealed in the rocks.

Something, he countered. I'm doing something— the hell if I know what—

Off to his left, past an open area, a disordered cluster of ramshackle huts and shacks curved through an upward slope. The small size and sheer number suggested that this constituted what would be roughly described as living quarters for the sad remnants of humanity that populated this world. Directly in front of him, larger wooden buildings, more functional in nature, spread with the same disorganization, absent of purposeful thought. The lingering odors of burned bread and sour milk carried on the steady wind confirmed that someone cooked with little concern about the quality, and he doubted the quantity was much better. Off to his right, a glow burst through the dark night emanating along the path that the troughs followed. He couldn't see, but could hear, demanding voices and the pounding of stone filtering from the direction of the soft glimmer. Burke assumed it had to be the mine itself. The noticeable absence of movement, apes or humans, could only mean that the mine was active even at night. Not for the first time, the astronaut longed for a set of thermal imaging goggles.

Pete scowled considering his next move.

He froze against the boulder, willing himself to be a part of it in the moonless night, as a huge gorilla emerged from the residence shacks and trudged down the hill in his direction. He held some kind of thin, stringy material, roped like a lasso, in one hand. He coughed and spit as he moved toward a building a few yards from where the human watched.

"Hafva!" a voice boomed causing Pete to jump. His eyes jerked toward the area that led to the caves. Another gorilla approached, arms thrashing as he stomped to converge with the first. "Where have you been?! I expect you to be at the mines not traipsing about in the dark with your finger up your bareass!"

Even in the dark, Pete could see the first gorilla tense with controlled anger.

"Eating, Vulko," the large voice rumbled. "Coming back, I found this blasting wire dropped near the slave quarters," Hafva lied. With everyone in the camp engaged in Vulko's forced after dark work, he took advantage of the chance to avoid being seen while setting the explosives beneath the shack he targeted for destruction versus the far more suspicious plan to sneak around in the pre-dawn hours. He used the misfortune of being caught by his supervisor to plant the seed of rebellion Bulta wanted.

Shielded in the shadows, Pete bit at his lip. This was the same gorilla he saw earlier today. His mind quickly put the pieces of the wire in his hands and the shacks together. 'Inside their quarters,' the gorilla had said. Burke grinned keeping his lips tight, not allowing his teeth to show and potentially give him away. He had time to stop this.

"Bringing it back to the Explosives Hut," the one called Hafva explained, his thick arm gestured toward the building closest to Pete.

Vulko lifted both arms in fury. "These mistakes cannot happen! Urko might come here at any time. He wants to find a problem he can claim he corrected by his own hand. And blame he can lay at my feet. Yours! Are the Labor Supervisors armed?"

"Yes, as ordered. Rifles and pistols."

"Keep it so until the City apes are gone. There can be no hint of Urko's imaginary rebellion. Pick out five to six banded who are lacking in production for a mass flogging. Urko will receive a demonstration of our absolute control of this operation when he comes.

"Continue tonight until you have exceeded quota by 5%."

Hafva cleared his throat with a cough. "The extra labor will affect attrition," he pointed out.

"Attrition be damned!" Vulko waved his hand. "If they die, they die. I will not be the scapegoat for Central City politics. I want those new quotas maintained for the next two weeks. As the primary owner and the Chief Officer of the State Mining Coalition, not only does Warsa have the ultimate say over this mine but the Council will listen to him. But he needs numbers to support any action the Council may attempt to take against us. Put that away," the overseer ordered as his fingers flicked at the blasting wire, "and get back to your duties!"

"Of course, Vulko." The large ape paused to watch the overseer take the worn path through the huts toward his own accommodations. Hafva grunted with disgust before disappearing from the human's view to the far side of the Explosives Shack.

Pete detected the jangle of keys before the squeak of an opening door reached him. A short time later, the oversized gorilla slammed the door followed by an unusual cracking sound. A painful hacking tore through the gorilla's chest as he came back into view. The ape expelled a massive wad of phlegm into the dirt on his walk toward the mine.

Poetic black lung justice, you fuckin' asshole. Pete's eyes trailed him until he disappeared in the darkness. He quickly thought through the information gathered. Armed apes. Active mine. Accusatory bomb in place but too early to detonate. And an Armory full of explosives waiting to be exploited. A sly grin tugged at his lips. Now I will do something…

Keeping his body low to the ground, the human saboteur who intended to disrupt the planned sabotage of the apes trotted toward the shacks to begin his search. With the apes and humans occupied, Pete knew he could work more swiftly, less concerned about bumping into anyone in the area. The lack of any kind of lamps or torches supported his assumption that all hands were digging in Dear Ol' Mother Earth to satisfy some quota for Big Daddy Greed. Some things just don't change.

He tucked in close to the first hovel he reached and quickly moved around the exterior walls. It was a risk, but he had to presume Hafva planted the bomb either underneath or next to the shack. With the humans he targeted for death in the mines, he would need to leave a long trail of blasting wire that he could light once they were released for the night to return to the shack while giving himself time to retreat or set himself up to be seen when the explosion went off. This was not a stupid ape. He'd want an alibi.

Pete ran his hand along the base of the wall, his fingers reaching into holes and indentations feeling for blasting wire. His back protested the awkward angle as he scuttled around each structure while still watchful for any kind of movement. He spied a glint in the dirt at a hut about half-way along in his search. He knelt to investigate. He shook his head discovering a rough piece of metal about an inch and half long. He glanced up to see torn mesh hung over the crossbars blocking the window. His disappointment quickly converted to satisfaction. He threaded the metal through the homespun weave of his shirt loosening some of the mud but not enough to stand out. He moved on to the next shack.

His mind churned with the possibility that he may need to backtrack and search the interiors after all as he skirted the final few structures. His heart leapt when his fingers found the thin wire and an affirming tug verified that it was attached to something. He dropped to his stomach and followed the wire into a small hole dug beneath the wooden shack. The rounded ends his fingers discovered confirmed pay dirt.

Pete dragged the three bound sticks to the edge of the hole. He disconnected the wire, tucked the wire in his pouch, the sticks under his arm. Taking no chances, he completed his search of the remainder of the human hovels, verifying no other device was laid. He scurried back through the buildings the way he came.

The sensible part of him warned that he needed to go, now, while his luck held. But the part of him that demanded retribution for the humans the apes callously planned to murder in his name, the part that needed to be avenged for the darkness that gripped him since the apes tortured him for days, and even the part that desperately wanted to prove to Virdon that some risks had to be taken to make a stand against the fucked up world they landed in, guided his steps to the door of the explosives shack.

The color was lost in the darkness, but the door of the explosives shack was marked with a pale colored flag bearing ape fists crossed at the wrists to form an "X". Pete set the bound explosives he carried at his feet as he yanked the metal piece from the weave of his shirt and inserted the makeshift pick into the lock. His brow drew together when he discovered the lock had been broken, the handle loose in his hand. The cracking sound—the gorilla had broken the lock— to blame the humans—This was not a stupid gorilla. The door opened outward with a creak of the hinges. Taking a quick glance over both shoulders, he slipped through the door after maneuvering the dynamite sticks with his feet against the frame to hold the door askew. With no windows, he needed what scant light was available.

His dark eyes darted along the surprisingly neatly ordered shelves and barrels that filled the shack. First, he grabbed flint and a fire striker stored in separate bins at the doorway. Next, he yanked a bundle of the blasting wire from a shelf and flung it out avoiding entangling it. He assessed the positioning of the blasting powder and settled on one of barrels. A flat edged tool reminding Burke of a spackling knife rested on a shelf next to the barrels. Pete jimmied open one wooden lid and jerked his head at the wonderfully distinctive odor of sulfur which greeted him. He slipped the tool into the rope belt that wrapped around his waist.

Working fast, he coaxed one end of the wire into the powder then built a small mound around it. He laid the remaining wire as flat as possible down the barrel and along the floor to avoid any possibility of the flame extinguishing before it completed its task. Lowering himself to one knee, Burke adjusted the end of the wire where he could see the tip, holding his breath as he hit the fire striker and flint in a smooth, repetitive motion and smiled when the spark caught.

"Alright, baby, take it all the way home for me," he murmured. Fascinated, Pete watched the flame shimmer along the wire, and he absently hummed the theme to 'Mission Impossible' as he tucked the fire-starting tools into the pouch at his waist before yanking himself up and turning to the door. Glancing down at the explosive sticks, another idea sparked. He picked them up with another grin.

"Your turn is coming," he promised.

Stepping out of the door, he froze, his back pressed against the wood. An annoyed voice carried clearly through the night air. "Increased quotas. Now guard duty with guns. Hafva's errand boy, my ass. Can't get outta this hellhole fast enough," he groused.

Pete spied the armed chimpanzee headed straight for the shack. Hafva must have wanted someone other than himself to discover the broken lock and with the miners currently under guard, it would support Urko's claim that the humans here worked in collusion with the humans in the town. Damn, he was not a stupid gorilla. With his theme music about to end with a bang, Pete had no time to consider any alternative but to run. He leapt to the far side of the building to give himself a few steps of concealment before tearing across the open ground to the sparse cover of the boulders which would lead him back to the river.

"Hey! Stop! Halt! I'll shoot!" the startled ape yelled as Pete broke past the back wall of the shack.

Pete reached the first set of boulders when he heard the rifle blast. He ducked lower and pushed his legs faster. Shortly after the ring of the third shot, it felt like talons gripped his left arm, flipped him around, knocked him off balance, and he was falling onto his back. He didn't hear the next shot, but it had to either be the ricochet of the bullet or a splintered piece of rock from the boulder when struck by the bullet that laid itself like a flaming rod against the right side of his head as he fell.

He thudded against hard ground between two of the boulders, momentarily stunned as the back of his head bounced against the stone surface. His mouth gaped uselessly for air he couldn't find. The pain settled over him like a living thing, weighing him down, holding him there. His rapidly blinking eyes flitted across the clear sky awash with stars that spread above him. He thought he heard the ape calling out and more shots fired as his vision faded to gray.

If you lay here, they catch you, a whisper warned him.

White light surrounded him. Somewhere in his head, he heard the steady crunch of approaching boots on stone. He flinched as Urko's face blocked the vivid blue sky, a cruel smile lighting his face. The smell of blood choked his nose, the coopery taste on his tongue. Pete twisted away to see Galen next to him on his left, his blank eyes open, dark red liquid spilling from beneath his friend and pooling underneath his own fingers, still warm to touch. He jerked to the other side finding Alan awkwardly bent back over his folded knees, blood dripping through the open space between the folds of his shirt stained red with it to the stony ground. The grating sound of Urko's chuckle pulled him back to the leering face bent down to his. "Burke. They always come back for you."

If they catch you, they die, an internal scream shoved him to his feet, away from his nightmare, back to the present. Night cloaked him once more. He hovered between the rocks, seeking the ape. He saw him waiting just a few yards away at the first set of boulders edging the compound, the rifle raised and scanning the area for movement.

The percussion from the first blast knocked both of them over as the walls of the wooden shack separated then pulled back together as the flames sucked the air back to feed itself. The second explosion sent white flames through the roof quickly followed by a third and a fourth as the barrels ignited with force, engulfing the shack while sending fingers of fire to the wood frame buildings next to it, catching those alight. Startled yells sounded from a distance, followed by the distinctive bang of gunfire as armed, untrained apes reacted to unknown threats. The shouts grew closer, the more hardy among them running to investigate the disaster. More thunderous explosions followed as the powder found purpose feeding the raging fire.

When the chimpanzee struggled to stand then turned to face the conflagration, Pete forced himself back to his feet, fighting against a blanket of inertia which wrapped around him. Stifled sound struggled through the muscled hands that seemed to press against his ears giving the sensation that he had been plunged into the ocean depths. Restraining hands encircled him attempting to restrict his movement as he struggled to push against the pressure trying to hold him in place. He searched for and retrieved the explosive sticks that had been thrown a few feet from him, remembering that it was important that he keep them, although the reason was lost. He nearly fell when he leaned down to reach for them but managed to stagger forward, the prize safe in his hand.

Pain had become a near constant companion that he fought to set aside, although the waves of nausea and spinning vertigo required him to drag concentrated breaths of the smoke laden air to push its grip away. The sulfuric smell acted as a prod to keep him aware. Bent over by the near blinding pain in his head, the throbbing daggers hampering the use of his left arm, and the instinctive impulse for survival, Pete stumbled into the shadows staying on his feet by sheer will. Caught in the void between the blackness that sought to engulf him and the haunting, all-too familiar voice seeking to drag him to her, all conscious thoughts wraithed like vapor in the gray smoke save one: The river— follow the river—