When Scars Run Deep
The day was hot—the days were always hot this far south—hot enough to cause jagged heat waves to shimmer above the water troughs and scattered white stones that littered the street.
Yet the chill that emanated from his core was a familiar one. He allowed it to fill his chest, sneak along his arms to his fingertips, snake around his legs to his feet. He flexed both fingers and toes as he eyed the lazy movement of humans resigned to whatever task drove them into the heat. A lone ape leaned against the communal well and yawned. Despite the comforting pressure of the long blade at his back and the thinner shafts strapped to his calves, no sign of those arms could be visible here. Fortunately for him, his body remained a weapon.
This forlorn human village sat in the Colum Prefecture, controlled by apes, solidly positioned in Urko's territory as the gorilla flexed his military skills to subvert what power remained to the Central City High Council. Memories niggled as Pete Burke felt the ominous grip of Jersey City and his constant struggle for survival wrap around him. He used it as a shield. Enemies stalked him. Companions could flip sides on a dime. Friends—what were friends? There was one—Danny—until he drifted away, and he was alone again.
He studied the street. It was nothing like the brick buildings and asphalt streets of Jersey City. The structures were a mixture of adobe and hatch-covered wood. Hard earth pounded down by wagons and tired feet formed the wide center pathway into this place called Oxton. Yet they were exactly the same. His life depended on stealth and cunning to earn another day in this place. Dex and Leman, resistance fighters who he had selected to participate in their upcoming mission, hid somewhere in the shadows waiting for his move. They knew him as Jackal. Pete had no delusions. They were companions. His trust in them extended into the moment and no further. The one human friend he had—Alan—remained behind. Alan was angry about that, but Pete controlled this aspect of the mission, and this unexpected diversion necessitated his absence. Pete still hadn't decided his next move. He ignored the sweat drizzling down his neck causing his shoulder blades to itch.
A figure moved from between the squalid huts near the end of the street and stopped in full view of anyone who cared to watch. He lay a bundle of sticks at his feet and pulled a waterskin from his belt and took a leisurely drink. The chimpanzee guard at the well eyed him for a moment and then turned toward the nearby garrison stables housing a small office on the outskirts of the village. Pete watched the swaying gait of the chimp until he rounded a corner out of sight. He deduced the chimp was either newly assigned or disgraced to be stationed here. The primary garrison was a mile and a half distant outside of Strekum, the prefecture capitol, featuring a communications hub, officer housing, barracks for 60 troopers, armory, training grounds, an eight-cell jail but a four-horse stable because the good citizens didn't like the smell. The main stable and corrals graced the Oxton grounds. Pete didn't see any other apes but the tingle at his neck told him they were near. He didn't like their smell.
As Strekum prepared for the grand celebration of the Estival Solstice, scores of apes made their way into the city bringing their slaves along. A human tent city stretched into the uncultivated fields at Oxton. The good citizens didn't want that odor near them either. But it was ideal for Jackal. They went unnoticed as the crowds swelled. He had plans—plans disrupted by the figure flaunting his presence in the middle of the street.
The man stood out among humans, his light-colored hair a rarity valued by the apes. Pete closed his eyes and thought of Alan, his friend, who looked so much like this man. His body hummed with tension, prepared to strike. He knew this was foolish. Jackal would have walked away. Pete Burke entered the street. He sauntered up to the man, his gait at ease while his eyes darted toward every alley, every rooftop. Leman stepped out from his shelter and moved to the well. As instructed, Dex remained unseen.
"You came," the man stated unnecessarily as he extended the water skin to Pete. He accepted, feigned a sip, and returned it to him.
"What do you want, Chris?" The words were as emotionless as his face. Brown eyes locked with the blue. Neither betrayed the strain between them. Pete's feet twitched where the burn scars inflicted by this fair-haired man limited the sense of touch that provided one of his survival tools. His dark, unflinching eyes bore into the man.
Chris looked away first. He was forced to placate this dark-haired man who he had been taught to hate because he was the only pathway he saw to achieve his desire.
"I listened to what you said in the cabin," Chris stated as he stared at something to his right. They both knew which cabin. "It's taken me a year to hear it." The ice blue eyes swung back to Burke. Pete recognized the calculating stare for what it was. This man was a threat.
"I want to see him. I want to speak to my father."
Although he never moved, the cold whipped a furious warning through every sinew as Pete glared at this man. Danger warred with his common sense. He leaned down and picked up the bundle of sticks.
"Tomorrow. Come to the hut of the headman, Malich. One atseht after dusk. Come alone," Pete spoke as he walked away, back toward the shelter of the shadows. He listened as Chris walked in the opposite direction. Leman brushed his hand through his hair to tell Jackal that the target was following the directives he was given. The chill settled as a block of ice in his trembling gut. He was out of his fucking mind to permit this. A dumb ass rookie mistake letting feelings influence his decisions. Whatever he was once, that man was now a maniacal headcase and Pete bore the scars of his madness.
But Alan was his friend. And his friend deserved to see his son again.
xXxXx
Although his face was hard and impassive, Alan was annoyed. The mission plan had been discussed for several months and set for over a week with tweaks needed only as reconnaissance indicated. It was a good plan for a dangerous mission. He had examined all the data they could gather, set up contingencies, and established the final plan with assignments made with the talent they had available for flawless execution. And it was Burke, of course, who grabbed a wrench to twist things askew by introducing an unknown element with mission countdown at T ~3 days. Alan shook his head as he walked. Of course, it was Burke. You'd think I would have accepted by now that no plan survives Burke.
He stared at Pete's back some 20 yards ahead of him as they entered Oxton separately. A braid of dark hair bounced between his shoulder blades as he assumed the confident walk of a human on a task for his master, a small lantern swinging loosely in his hand as the sun dropped behind the western horizon. Pete had insisted on growing his hair back after he fell into the hands of a delusional man who blamed Jackal for some injustice. Typical of his friend, Pete always managed to avoid detailing the specifics of that near deadly encounter. A year had passed, and Alan knew about as much as he did the night he stormed into the cabin to discover Pete tied spreadeagle in a contraption allowing the man to brutalize his friend for…vague reasons for which he never received a satisfactory explanation. But that was the reason Burke had officially resigned his commission some years back. The major was no longer under the jurisdiction of his commanding officer and the colonel could not order him to debrief over anything Burke refused to reveal. Alan blamed himself for his lapse in concentration as Pete's condition distracted him for the few seconds the mystery man needed to escape. Pete had sheltered with Galen and Zana for over a month as their chimpanzee friends treated his grievous injuries leading to infections that nearly took him from them before they could restore his abused body to a semblance of his former health. Pete's own determination drove his rehabilitation as he drilled for hours to return to his previous abilities. But then, that stubborn drive is what Alan expected from Pete Burke. Everyone else looked to Jackal for those painstakingly honed mercenary skills.
Their current arrangement placed Jackal as the face of their operation: a shadowy entity willing to take on the apes to disrupt Urko's assault on human existence. Typically, they left the apes to battle their own civil war, but reason dictated that they had to lend their support toward Zaius and the remnants of the High Council to keep the gorilla commander from achieving his goal of supreme power. Virdon stayed behind the scenes: the planner, the unofficial leader, the calm in Jackal's chaos. Usually, the pair worked alone but at times, they pulled members from the loosely aligned resistance to supply the manpower needed for successful execution of bigger jobs.
Four men had joined them in Oxton. Men that had worked proudly with Jackal in the past and were anxious to do so again. Alan trusted their skills, well, mostly, meticulously making assignments that favored their success. And for reasons unknown, Pete insisted that Alan meet a fifth. Although the men accepted Alan's guidance and would follow his directives related to the plan, it was Jackal that they revered. The mystique around the man had made him a human folk hero. Not that Pete saw it that way. He simply wanted to wage a war against the apes until they left him the hell alone. Unsurprisingly, Jackal was wanted by the ape command with the same fervor that once drove Urko to recover Virdon and Burke. Those two were presumed dead in the Forbidden Zone western desert years ago. Alan grinned to himself. He'd love to be a fly on the wall if Urko ever discovered that they weren't nearly as dead as he thought.
Although Burke had made the rash decision to meet with a new man, he had listened to Virdon to arrange the meet. Malich, the Oxton headman, was a collaborator but not a member of the resistance. He would be taken ill and spend the night with the town's human healer, Rhesa. Dex would enter the headman's hut and insist on escorting him away as he loudly complained that he could manage on his own. The diversion would allow Pete and Alan to enter through the back, providing a location that they could secure. Leman, Jase and Turik provided the exterior surveillance and would alert them of any unexpected ape interference or unusual interest, ape or human, in the activity around the hut. It was a good plan. Now he only had to control Burke. No, plan how he would control whatever wrinkle Burke devised. No plan survives Burke.
Alan slid in behind the boxes placed in the alley between the huts at the rear of Malich's home. Dex and Jase had positioned the cover there earlier. As he squatted into place, he rested his hand on Pete's shoulder.
"Hey, Al," the dark eyes remained fixed on the hut. "'bout time you got here. I was about ready to send a search party." Virdon flashed a half-grin at the tease in his friend's voice.
"You might recall I allowed you to arrive first."
"C'mon old man. We both know you're slowing down, and it just wouldn't look good if I lapped you in a leisurely walk into town."
Before Virdon could respond, Dex paused inside the hut at the back window. Jackal flashed two signals with the hooded lantern he carried then settled back on his haunches.
"Not long now," Pete murmured. Alan felt his friend's muscles tense under his hand. Pete was worried? Nervous? He tried to see Burke's face, but his angle gave him nothing more than a view of his dark hair and a sliver of his right cheek to study. He was completely still.
"Not too late to abort," Virdon commented in a neutral tone leaving his hand in place. The shoulder slackened slightly but far from relaxed.
"Just a meet up, Al. Gotta happen sometime." Loud voices carried from the front of the hut drawing any curious eyes as Dex led a resisting Malich into the street and maneuvered him toward Rhesa's well-known abode. "And now is the sometime. Let's move."
Pete slivered through the shadows and slid gracefully through the window. Alan followed on his heels, his old hip injury stabbing in complaint as he dropped to the hard-packed dirt floor of the bedroom. Pete, a knife in his hand, skimmed stealthily out of sight through the door to search the rest of the hut. Alan, armed with his own weapon, positioned himself against the wall next to the opening and listened.
"All clear," Pete poked his head in and tapped the door frame three times, a signal informing Alan that they were, indeed, alone. "Malich left some fresh water in a pitcher and stew on the fire."
"We ate before we left, Pete," Alan reminded him with a chuckle as he came into the main room.
"That was over an hour ago," the trim man snatched a wooden bowl from the counter and ladled a couple of spoonfuls from the pot. "Wouldn't want to be inhospitable after the man went to the extra trouble for us."
Alan settled at the table into a chair facing the front door but watched his companion vigilantly. Pete leaned against the wall, positioned to glance periodically through the seam of the thin curtains drawn across the front window, while shoveling the spoon in his mouth. He was projecting a pretense of calm, but after almost nine years of fighting for their survival since their spaceship crashed on their future earth, Alan read Pete like a dog-eared, familiar book. Burke was tight, coiled, expecting…something… beyond a meeting with a potential recruit for their use as part of the resistance. Alan laid his knife within easy reach as he filled a cup from the pitcher left on the table and continued to eye his friend but let the silence settle around them as the shadows deepened in the room. Pete glanced his way as Alan opened the shutter to the lantern Pete had left on the table. As instructed, Malich had left a torch burning near the fire since a light flaring in the supposedly empty hut would draw interest. Burke did a quick rinse of his bowl in a washing bucket near the fire before pulling his knife from the folds of his shirt and returning to his post by the window.
"You have some doubts about this guy?" Alan finally asked. His voice was soft, but it sounded like the pounding of a bass drum in the quiet room. Alan was unsurprised to see the subtle clench of Pete's jaw.
"I always have doubts," he replied. "You're the only one that's earned a free pass, Al."
"I'm honored, Pete," the older man huffed a short laugh.
"That can be rescinded at any time. Duck in the bedroom. He's coming."
"We're supposed to be doing this together…," Alan started to argue but Pete cut him a non-negotiable look. "Fine." Virdon took his knife and swiftly moved out of sight.
The moment Alan was in the security of the bedroom, Pete laid a hand on the crude handle of the wood door. His senses aware of every sound that filtered through the door, he yanked it open causing the blond-haired man to stumble across the threshold. He obviously had no intention of knocking making Burke cluck his tongue as the man awkwardly recovered his balance. He grabbed the man's arm and pulled him in while simultaneously scanning for any signs of exposure on the dark street then swiftly shut the door.
"Assume the position," Pete snarled. He was gratified that the man obeyed, splayed legs, arms lifted to his sides. Burke snared the inner lip of an empty basket with his foot and dropped a long-bladed knife and a rustic-looking but loaded pistol along with several pouches into it as he rapidly but thoroughly frisked the man. He found a second, thinner knife strapped to his inner thigh near his groin forcing the man to lower his pants to remove it and place in the basket himself.
"You didn't say to come unarmed," the man shrugged.
"Didn't expect you to walk on these streets without. Sit your ass on your hands, palms up, until I tell you otherwise." The dark head indicated the chair closest to the door.
"I don't think you trust me, used to be Major Burke," the fair-haired man casually lowered himself into the seat as instructed.
Pete opened his mouth to snark a response but both men turned as Alan marched into the room with an authoritative air honed by years of command. Alan's hard stare focused on the man who spoke a name and rank he shouldn't know. His eyes narrowed as Burke lithely took his place beside him. The younger man in the chair froze, his face was washed of color as undefined emotions warred across his features. His blue eyes fixed on Alan Virdon who challenged him with an equally unflinching stare.
Quiet had time to settle before Virdon's colonel voice stated, "This is the man who almost killed you."
"Told you. It was a misunderstanding."
"Not the word choice I would use," Alan's response was hard.
"I came to save you!" the man blurted in Alan's direction with an intensity that belied the pallor of his skin giving the impression of a broken spirit peeking from the darkened corners of the dimly lit hut.
"Turns out ANSA sent a rescue mission after all," Pete revealed. "At least the mission specialist here thought it was one. Doubt that weasel Hasslein did." The young man cut Burke a look at the disparaging remark, but the former astronaut's hard glare convinced him to keep his thoughts to himself. "Made the unfortunate mistake of crashing ten years before we got here.
"But Hasslein was able to recruit a man who wanted on that ship as badly as we wanted on ours." Pete could sense the mix of excitement and unease in his friend as he processed the words. He knew Virdon was practiced at keeping his face masked but Burke knew any hint of contact from their past lives sparked a hope in Alan that he nurtured despite all evidence that the way back was irrevocably lost. Pete hoped his voice did not betray his doubts about this decision, fearing Alan's obsessive need to rejoin his family would blind him to the risk this man represented. Alan radiated tension as Pete continued, "Turns out there was a survivor." Suddenly Burke wondered about the rest of the crew. That bit of information never came up. Maybe it should. He shook the distraction away as he pulled his gaze from the man in the chair and laid his eyes on his friend.
"Mission Specialist Chris Virdon."
Trying to speak in neutral tones, Pete waved his knife toward the man, but a hint of vitriol lay beneath his words like the whiff of black mold in a freshly cleaned room.
A few loud heartbeats passed as the revelation skimmed in like a missile triggered from Pete's passing fighter jet leaving a plume of smoke to mark its precision strike before he soared on. Alan grew stiff, his face suddenly as pale as the man who stared at him. Pete guided his friend into the chair opposite the man but left his hand firmly on the older man's shoulder. Being the gifted pilot he was, Pete's missile struck dead center denotating in Alan's head. He had to remind himself to breathe as his mind exploded, then whirled, with pictures, memories, feelings long buried of a life lost and blown away with the harsh winds of time.
"Hi Dad," Chris grinned with a half-smile he inherited from his father, though his blue eyes kept that haunted look. "I came a long way to find you."
xXxXx
Chris felt his hackles rise even before he caught sight of Burke dressing down a man, no more than twenty years old, probably younger, raggedly cut brown hair hanging in his downcast eyes, trim shoulders slouched. The day was already hot despite the earliness of the hour, and he had hoped to find the tent where his father described it was pitched and observe Burke and Virdon before making himself known. He needed a better understanding of their interactions before he made his next move.
At least finding Burke like this made that task a bit easier. Chris stopped behind the tree line where he should remain unseen in his dark green shirt and trousers. He had found a place to toss a bedroll on the outskirts of this human tent city where he could slip away quickly if the need arose. But now his needs had changed. He had come to Oxton following whispers that the man known as Jackal might be there. Chris had flitted through cells of resistance fighters, not because he had any dedication to their cause but because he needed to track down Jackal…again.
Of course, it wasn't Jackal—Burke—that he sought, but his father—the man who he thought was dead. The chimpanzee director at the workcamp where he had been imprisoned for years told him he was dead, but General Urko still had an interest in capturing the other one—the one who murdered his father. He was taken to Central City to be vetted by what Chris dubbed as their CIA. They were willing to release him so he could bring that human back. For his loyalty, they would give him a softer work detail and a comfortable life. And Chris had laid a trap and successfully brought Burke in—for his own stab at justice. He had never intended to return to the ape's control.
Chris swallowed against the tension that snared his throat. That fateful night in the cabin, just as he had neared his triumphant climax of revenge, the strong arm that pulled him away from Burke, pressing a cold gun barrel against his temple, had belonged to—a gasp hitched in his throat, the shock shaking him almost as badly as it had a year ago—his father. He wasn't dead. And by every action his father took in that cabin, he and Burke were friends! Burke didn't lie. And if he didn't lie about his father, maybe he didn't lie about who sabotaged the Icarus. His father's own words seemed to support Burke's claims. And so, Chris ran. Ran away from the father he couldn't face in that moment.
Ran away until he realized, just like everybody else, he'd been fooled by Burke's lies.
That night, he had to escape, unable to face his father and admit what he had done to his friend. He couldn't bear to see the disgust in his father's eyes directed toward him. How could explain that he had spent years helping to spearhead the mission to save him…and failed. And then failed as his son—had resorted to violence when his father had always counseled "a better way". Almost the final words his father had said to him echoed in his ears. Chris had memorized every syllable listening to the recording from the Icarus countless times: If you punch people in the face, it won't stop their way of thinking, or the way they talk about you, Chris. They just won't say it to your face anymore. Then you have moved the problem into the dark, where you can't see it, nor deal with it. It solves nothing. But then, over the weeks that followed as he hid from his father, fearful he would track him down with accusing eyes and turn his back on him because of what he had become, his realization of what truly happened slowly returned. It wasn't him hiding in the dark.
He thought about every moment in that cabin. From the moment he dragged Burke's unconscious body inside and strung him up to the moment he turned and ran, unable to face his father's rejection. He let the memories come back—it was all he had left. Let the memories—all the memories—come back. Let all the confidences bubble up that Professor Hasslein had shared during their many hours in the lab as they planned his father's rescue. Let him see the casual charm Burke weaved effortlessly fooling everyone he touched with his insidious lies. Once he got away from the cabin, it became so obvious how he had been fooled despite Hasslein's warnings. Burke fooled them all. The ANSA brass. The media. The so-called human revolutionaries of this world. His mother. His father. Everyone but the professor.
He had been fooled but once clarity returned, he fought his way back to finding the dreaded Burke. The man who could take him to his father. Yes, he had been fooled that night but now it was more clear than ever. He gladly made this journey to rescue his father and bring him home so they could be a family again. Chris had no further illusions of making their way back to their past, but he knew in the deepest part of his now galloping heart, his father remained in need of rescue. And he was the only one who remained unencumbered by Burke's guile to see it. He had to suck on some bile to cajole others into believing his desire to fight with Jackal and then to face Burke down in the street of Oxton, but it was worth it. It was all worth it when Colonel Alan Virdon marched into the room last night projecting the courage and strength he remembered.
Chris wanted to run to his side as his father lowered himself into the chair when he recognized—at last—who sat across from him. But Burke, always Burke, stood in the way, his hand holding Alan in the seat, trying to control the situation. The younger Virdon allowed a smile then, and now, as his father questioned him, demanded proof of his identity. He described the floorplan of their home—he didn't tell him how his mother had sold the place for an apartment nor how he had prevented her from taking them away from his work with Professor Hasslein to find him. But his dad wanted more detail than that—his favorite toys, where they fished, bedtime rituals, nicknames for him, his mother, for the cat for god's sakes.
And the final question—the one that ended the questions and started the conversation—what was your sister's nickname?
"Lennie. But you didn't know that. You and mom hadn't settled on a name before she was born. Mom named her Helen."
"Helen," his father's strong voice faltered. Chris felt the old flame of aggravation spark when he thought of his sister. Chris thought he saw tears in his father's eyes. He fought against the anger attempting to assert itself. He wanted to scream. I'm the one who came for you! Not her! Burke squeezed Alan's shoulder as if he cared, Chris was sickened to note, but that gesture allowed the sadness in his father's blue eyes to be replaced with the first sign of joy since he had entered the room. Betcha didn't see that backfire comin', did ya, once upon a time Major Burke. It was shortly after that that Burke left. Why should he hang around? Chris had won that battle. He was Alan Virdon's son, and no machination Burke could pull would change that oh so important little factoid.
Movement in the clearing pulled Chris away from his musings. The young man in front of Burke was angry, then pleading, then resigned. Just as he had attempted to control his father last night, Burke placed a hand on his shoulder, too. Unconsciously, Chris jerked his own as if to throw the hand off. Then Burke turned and walked away. The younger man slumped. Chris decided to follow the dark-haired man. He wanted to know what they were up to and how he might use that information to accomplish his own plans.
As he cut across the clearing, keeping Burke's back in his sights, a hand grabbed his arm and turned him around. The man, no more than a boy really, Burke had been speaking with raised a fist toward his face although he didn't strike.
"You're the new man. The one from last night. Don't deny it. I saw you."
The new man. Chris shrugged his arm free. He would go with that for now. "I didn't see you."
"Well, you weren't supposed to, were you?" the youngster snarked. "Let me warn you, this isn't how we do things."
"How do we do things then?" Chris affected a warm smile and made a guess about Jackal's presence here. "I want to be a part of the group. I want to do my part."
"You don't do your part by taking another man's assignment!"
"I didn't know."
"Well now you do," the younger man looked away, anger flitting with hurt on his face. "I was supposed to go with Jackal today. Not you! I earned it. He asked me himself!"
"Go with Jackal…," Chris prodded.
"On the mission to the stables. To steal the blankets and the ropes."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I'm just doing as I'm told."
"Next time you know. You don't take another man's assignments. Not when Jackal himself gives it to you."
"I'll remember. Umm, I'm Chris." Virdon wanted to point out that Jackal had obviously removed the boy from the assignment as well, but he wasn't here to educate rebels on the importance of discipline in the ranks.
"Dex."
"Look, Dex, I am sorry and I want to make it up to you but right now I, umm,…," he gestured in the direction where Burke had disappeared.
"Yeah. Go. Ya don't have much time. Good hunting. That's we say when our people go out on an assignment. Good hunting." Dex kicked at the dirt.
"Thanks," Chris kept his gait normal as he followed in Jackal's wake, his heart beginning to thrum. His plan had always included a way to separate Burke from his father. He just hadn't expected it to be dropped in his lap so soon. Good hunting, indeed.
xXxXx
The bite at Pete's elbow warranted a quick look that prevented his knife sliding between his assailant's ribs. He released the hidden blade before it made an appearance.
"Al. So how'd it go last night?" He tugged his arm free from his friend's unusually tight grip. Ok, he's pissed about something.And that something almost always has something to do with me. Maybe because he hadn't gone back to their tent for the night after he left Al at Malich's. He just wasn't up to sleeping in the same space with Virdon's kid if he had invited him there.
"After you ran out of there, you mean." Virdon crossed his arms, indicating he expected a conversation. Alan caught Pete leaving the vicinity of one of the communal cooking fires set up in the human camping grounds as the preparations for the ape Estival Solstice in Strekum saw many visiting servants, strangers to the area, rushing to fulfill their master's bidding for the day. No one gave them a second look. They found an empty spot in the large clearing where they could talk privately.
"C'mon. You know me. Never was one for the family ties that bind. 'Sides, you needed to talk alone. Is he comin' on board?"
"For the mission?" Alan raised an eyebrow. "Didn't, and won't, come up. Maybe down the line but we can't risk any breaches this close to liftoff." Virdon recognized the diversion for what it was. Burke knew their rules of engagement. Hell, he helped devise them. No surprise, his dark-haired friend was avoiding the conversation he knew Alan wanted to conduct. "He is somewhere here among the masses though. We need to reinforce that with the others—stay with the protocols. No discussions with other members outside our strategic meetings."
"We gonna tell 'em? Who he is, I mean," Pete sniffed as his eyes wandered toward the central fire pit, away from Alan.
"At some point. If he chooses to stay." Then it was Alan's turn to avoid eye contact.
"I removed Dex from the stable job this morning," Pete settled into Jackal for the moment.
"I didn't like him for that job in the first place. You need a reliable back-up."
"Yeah, he's young but he isn't gonna learn if I don't show him the ropes. Easy job. In and out. Wouldn't even need two if it wasn't so bulky."
"So why the change?" Alan fell into colonel mode, recognizing with an internal shrug that Burke effectively changed the subject.
"He deviated from his assignment last night." Pete studied the area around them as he talked. "He didn't escort Malich all the way to Rhesa's. Sent him on his own for part of the way and double-backed because he wanted to help with surveillance. Malich had the sense to keep going and hoped for the best."
"We can't tolerate that kind of loose discipline." Alan's commander face stared directly at Burke. "You handled Dex?"
Pete responded with a slight tilt of his head and a shadow of annoyance rumbled in his dark eyes. "That's why I removed him from today's job. He was…contrite."
Alan scoffed. "I wished you would have been contrite at least once in a while." Pete responded with an unrepentant smirk. "Replacement?"
"Leman," Burke answered. "On my way to get him now. I also want Turik to go nosing around in the hills. I've heard rumblings that monkey patrols are moving around out there. Not the locals. Maybe a troop is setting up shop before coming into town for the festivities. Want an idea on numbers and what they seem to be up to if that's the case."
"Turik is the best tracker. Have him report back to me. I'll send Jase into Strekum to hover around the wells and see if he can pick up any gossip," Alan concurred.
"Alright, see ya later," Pete managed a single step away before Alan snared his arm again. He took a deep breath before turning back to face his friend. Virdon's eyes had dropped to the ground. Pete flinched a little suspecting he knew what was coming next.
"Why didn't you tell me, Pete?" The voice held no accusation, only hurt.
"Oh, okay, Al. Let's visualize that conversation, shall we?" Burke went on the defensive. "You remember that maniac who kidnapped me by telling an entire little village that I butchered two little kids after bonking them and then tortured me for hours intending to make my death as excruciating as possible out of revenge for sabotaging our ship then shooting you in the back?"
"You never even told me that much, Pete." The blue eyes glanced up beneath his lowered lashes. Pete powered on ignoring the jab.
"Turns out it's your little boy who traveled through another wormhole created by a madman to rescue you but got here a decade before us and is now walking around bearing a buttload of baggage."
There was heavy silence between them as Alan lifted his eyes but said nothing. Alan released Pete's arm and his hands settled his hips. Pete remained in place, but his eyes tore away first. Damn, he's got that cold look down when he's mad! Burke's voice softened with an unspoken apology when he resumed speaking. "Once he finally told me who he was, I tried to tell him he should come to you and be willing to listen. Look, Al, he isn't the sweet 10-year-old kid of your memories. He had eight years with Hasslein whispering lies in his ear about how he could rescue his father and bring him home making all the world right again and Hasslein was just the guy who could make that dream come true.
"And once they got here and realized the pile of shit they landed in, he had eighteen years of whatever twisted torment the apes put him and his crew through." Pete pressed his fists against his hips as anger crept into his monologue that Virdon seemed unwilling to interrupt. "You and I both know if Urko had been the top dog back then when they first crashed, he'd probably be dead. But I can tell you from experience, sometimes dead feels like the preferred option, and there's a helluvalot of residual to go along with that. He was locked into that patented Virdon single-minded obsession to achieve his goal—which unfortunately for me was revenge—and he wasn't prepared when everything he believed was blown to hell when you walked in alive and well, and damned if you didn't show up, not as my enemy, but my friend.
"When he chose to take off rather than listen, I had no idea where to look or what alias he might use. I also had no idea if he wanted you to find him. I suspect he found himself falling a little short of your standards of acceptable behavior given the condition he left me in. Damn, Alan, the man wants your approval. He probably had to think about how to face you. When he showed up again wanting to see you, he saw you. I don't know what else you expect of me."
"I expect you to trust me, Pete."
"Fuck, Alan," Burke spit back. "This isn't about trust. It's about another goddamn way we pulled the short straw because some unknown force out there seems to think making our lives miserable gives them entertainment. I get it. You wanna talk this out. I don't. But we'll do it your way this time. And since I know you, you wanna talk now and git it all said, and we will talk but we'll have to pick it up later. I'm on a schedule. Your schedule. I have to find Turik to send him scoutin' and grab Leman before going to the stables. I'll see you when I get back." Burke spun on his toes dodging out of Virdon's attempt to delay him again, then assumed a casual grace as he meandered through the few humans remaining in the fire pit area. No observer would assume that they had witnessed anything but a pleasant conversation between friends.
Alan smacked his lips as he watched until Pete faded between the trees in the direction where the men working with them on this job had pitched their tents, purposefully spreading themselves around the campgrounds. He reminded himself that Pete didn't share his experience of marriage, children…home. His friend couldn't grasp the significance of the loss that left a gaping hole in Alan's chest when Pete never had something so precious to lose. They would talk. When Pete got back. And Alan would try to explain, help him understand. He glanced around the firepit area then decided to stroll among the tents and open bedrolls pitched throughout the large campsite. Chris didn't tell him where he had made camp, but he was determined to find him. After hours of talking last night, they had simply hugged before Virdon slipped back out the window and Chris used the front door he had entered. They promised to find one another in the morning.
Virdon knew Burke was right. He couldn't treat Chris as the son he left behind, but he damn sure could reconnect with the son he had desperately wanted to wrap in his arms when he returned home while Chris had been equally determined to find him. Even crossing time to do it.
xXxXx
Virdon caught himself staring again and then huffed a laugh. Chris raised an eyebrow that had a Sally-like expression written all over it.
"What's up?" the younger man asked in a deep voice that Alan still hadn't adjusted to. His mind converted it to the 10-year-old version of his son that had warmed his thoughts over the last nine years; the son he had kissed good-bye with a solemn promise to return before boarding the spaceship that would carry him away from his family. A planned separation of half a year crashed into a lifetime when he commanded the Icarus into Hasslein's damn wormhole, a directive that replayed in full sound and color in his haunted dreams, but he never regretted. He and Burke expected to die that day. Instead, they awoke into a world where they lived a slow death every day. Alan had no doubts that Burke would have rushed headlong into a confrontation with the apes if he hadn't been there to hold him back. And Zana. Even Galen. Both had become friends vital to their survival. And they had started to piece together a kind of life worth living. At least it had a purpose.
Alan laughed again, admitting to Chris, "Just thinking about how this ain't nothing like we planned."
After he and Pete had crossed the continent in search of Alan's nirvana, a way home or at least a way to reach back and touch home one last time, and he was forced to accept that his driving obsession would have no resolution, Alan was lost. The magnetic pull that allowed him to fight through each day toward its clarion call had been severed—not with a swift blow but with tiny cuts of one failure after another until the frayed remnants of his hope lay like rubble around his bleeding soul. It took a role reversal of Burke dragging Virdon back to his feet and shoving him to a place where Pete convinced him that they could make a difference.
And somehow, whether through the hand of God or the torment of Satan, his precious son had followed his path and joined him in this desperate world.
Virdon was surprised that he hadn't found Chris in the tent city until mid-afternoon. The area had emptied throughout the morning as the populace obeyed their master's word in whatever task was dumped upon them—most walking to Strekum preparing for the Solstice Festival—and neither of them answered to an ape leaving them free to appear occupied as they saw fit. Alan assumed Chris must have found a place to stay under the radar of the chimps who made occasional walks through the camp, although those had grown less frequent as the final day leading to the Festival approached. The noise grew as people returned due to the building heat of the day, hot enough as the summer solstice was two days away that even apes acknowledged their beasts needed shelter from the merciless sun. The apes disappeared as the sun burned its way across the sky so it made sense that his boy—no, the man his boy had become—appeared when the humans filtered back.
"Best laid, huh?" Chris agreed. Alan grinned. Chris—his son back in his life, that monumental discovery still caused him to pinch himself into accepting something he thought impossible—was more relaxed today. They both were.
"Chris, you're going to have to be patient with me. I didn't get the chance to watch you grow up so I might want to make up for it with an overabundance of "Dad" advice," Alan warned him.
"Dad, just being here with you after…well, after all the time it took to get here…listening to the sound of your voice will be magic to me. Just don't be too mad if I don't do everything you advise."
"Fair enough," Alan slapped at his son's knee. They sat facing one another on stumps rolled in front of the tent he shared with Pete. They set them up the day they arrived and made sure the group came and went sharing meals or games, so any observers were accustomed to the gathering. The group scattered their sleeping arrangements throughout the area to avoid capture of everyone should the apes discover their presence. The porch-like seating at Jackal's tent allowed them to chat but talk covertly about the mission. Most of the assignments were blind—only Virdon and Burke knew the complete picture. Less chance of leaks should someone be captured or slip in conversation. Alan worried about Dex. He was only about nineteen, so young and anxious to prove himself, desperate for those around him to know what he had accomplished. Simply put, he talked too much. But then, with only one other mission with Jackal under his belt, he still had a serious case of hero-worship that had not yet softened into simple camaraderie. Dex wanted to share his exploits with his idol with others. Maturity had not caught up with his mouth.
Dex was the age Chris should be in his father's timeline. Instead, his son transmuted from ten to thirty-nine, almost 40 years old. The same age as Pete. Only a little younger than Alan was the last time he saw his child.
Last night and through the day, the pair had focused mostly on nostalgia—the time before Alan went away. He did ask safe questions of his son regarding the days he missed. You went to college? No, but I learned astrophysics from the best. Alan dropped that line immediately not wanting Hasslein to disrupt their tenuous beginnings. Did you have any special friends? Yes. A girl named Gina. We met at school.
Alan had endless questions about Helen, the daughter he never knew. He hadn't even known her name until yesterday. What was the color of her hair? Her eyes? What games did she like? Did she enjoy school? She was still so young when Chris left earth. The observant colonel and resistance leader noted the slight furrow of agitation on Chris's brow when he talked about his sister. In Alan's daydreams, the pair had been close, loving, supportive of one another. He never considered sibling rivalry. In his mind, he named his daughter Hope. He needed to adjust his thoughts to the name his wife had given her.
Sally. God, how he missed her. He barely slept last night having a conversation with her about his shock at the unexpected discovery of their son. Had she remarried? No. Did she support Chris's decision to follow the Icarus? Alan was astute enough to realize he hedged on that response. She never stopped loving you, Dad. He hadn't realized how badly he wanted to hear those words until they were spoken.
Alan avoided moving their conversation into Chris's work on the project, on the Daedalus, although it was becoming clear he wanted to share. It was his life's work, after all. Alan hadn't found the words to express his profound sadness that his child had sacrificed his teen years in order to rescue him. Or the even deeper sorrow that his child had spent many of the last twenty years in the hands of the apes in a penal work camp because of that decision. Discussing their experiences in this future world waited in the shadows threatening to take away the pleasure of simply sitting together once more. The entire "I'll show you my scars, if you show me yours" conversation as Pete would have described it needed to wait.
Pete. Alan was unable to begin to find the words to reconcile the torture his son had inflicted upon his best friend with the congenial man that sat before him. The fact that his son was capable of such an act—hours of acts—that damn near cost Pete his life was another topic on the shelf Alan needed to leave unopened. The time would come—it would have to—but he was grateful that his friend was willing to keep it locked away in one of the many Pete Burke compartments of 'Things in This Fucked Up Life that 'we ain't gonna talk about.' Despite his friend's own valid, negative feelings and opinions toward Chris, he knew Pete would step back and let him get to know his son. Pete protected his identity a year ago and now he brought them together. It was yet another debt Alan owed him.
Virdon glanced at the position of the sun visible through the shelter of the trees. Pete and Leman should have been back a few hours ago. In and out. Easy job. Burke wasn't wrong about that. But then, if Pete had seen him with Chris, he likely would have gone to Leman's tent pitched near a different communal fire in the camp. Virdon grunted silent disapproval. Burke would know he would want a status report. He could have sent Leman. But then, they should have been back even before Chris had joined him.
Perhaps it was the increasingly agitated hum of chatter all around them that finally pulled Alan's attention from his son. Hands were gesturing and heads did a dance between nods and shakes. Most were pointing in the direction of the stable at Oxton causing his heart rate to rise. He took a deep breath of the stifling air when he spied Jase picking his way in his direction through the clumps of people. He rose to his feet; Chris glanced over his shoulder then followed his father to his feet.
"What's up?" the younger man asked.
"Wait here. I see someone I need to speak with," Alan stated, squeezing his arm as he passed. "As you probably guessed, we aren't here for the Festival. Well, not exactly."
Chris remembered the half-grin fondly. He crossed his arms and turned to watch although he held his place. Until Dex had stopped him that morning, Chris assumed his father was there alone with Burke. That others accompanied them confirmed that Jackal was planning an attack of some kind which was of no concern to him. Chris's concern took an entirely different direction, prompting him to study the faces and body language of both men. He sat back down, turning to settle on the stump where he could see them. Over the years, Chris had picked up a useful skill the apes never even considered as a possibility. He taught himself to read lips. Came in handy a time or two in the penal camp. His good fortune was holding. The man speaking to his father faced him.
Quiet in town…something he couldn't make out for the festival…lotta activity at the garrison…more chimps than normal…a lot of gossip about apes striking in Oxton…heard more when I got back here…strangers taken in…humans…
His dad's back stiffened at that and then he laid on hand on the man's shoulder. Alan turned and both began walking in his direction. Chris had another skill he had learned over the years—reading faces, body language, any hint about what another might be thinking. His father gave nothing away. The other man appeared to be in his forties, although this world sucked the life out of humans making most look older than their years. He just looked dusty and tired. Hungry. In any case, he was experienced enough to give nothing away. The younger Virdon stood as the two men reached the tent.
"Chris," Alan gestured toward his son, and then to the other man, "Jase." They each nodded. "Jase, get yourself something to eat. The ladies at the communal fires aren't letting anyone starve."
"Thanks, Owl. I'll be back in a bit."
"Hey," Alan stopped him as he turned, "if you see Jackal or Leman, let 'em know I'd like to hear from them right away."
Chris had also become a master at not giving anything away. "Is everything all right?" he asked.
"Yeah, sure," Alan assured him. "Just keeping a finger on the pulse."
Jase had not left the far side of the clearing before Dex ran toward him from another direction, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. Chris then noticed a fourth man stalking toward them from the direction Dex had come, trying to keep his pace steady but clearly in a hurry.
"Dex. Turik," Alan stated as the third man stopped in front of them just as Dex and Jase returned. The man's face was flush with exertion, his clothes clinging to him from the sweat. His black hair looked as if he had run through a sprinkler, but the odor was more like he had run a marathon. The deep tan tones of his skin made Chris think Hispanic heritage although no one made those kinds of distinctions anymore. Except with people like himself and his father. Blond hair and blue eyes got far too much attention from the apes.
"Owl. Got here fast as I could."
"Dex, get him some water," Alan waved at the youngest of the group without taking his eyes from Turik. The boy's attention darted at their feet and retrieved a water skin and handed it to the man whose breathes came in ragged gasps. He had clearly been running, even in the monstrous heat. The dark-haired man took several deep swallows then placed his hands on his knees to calm his breathing. Chris sensed movement at his side and glanced down to see his father's hands clenched into fists. Although he waited for the winded man, his eyes were demanding, and it was clear to Chris that his father had not relinquished his role as commander. When Turik stood, his brown eyes could have been chunks of onyx.
"Report," the elder Virdon clipped.
"Jackal were right," Turik's voice was deep, with an edge. "Apes all over da hills. Could be a full plat'. Thirty on horse, at least. Th'other half may be a'foot. Didn't see 'nough horses fer 'em all. An' they ain't in tha stables here neither."
"Not in Strekum either," Jase offered.
"We thought that was a possibility," Alan kept his own voice calm. He glanced at Chris, paused, seemed to make a decision, and then spoke again. "Changes nothing. Likely here for additional security due to the size of the crowds. We'll adjust as needed. We'll watch how they set up. Jackal or I will call the abort, if necessary. Have any of you seen Jackal or Leman since this morning?"
All the men including Chris shook their heads. Dex's head jerked toward the newcomer but had no chance to speak.
"I expect to see them soon then," Alan grinned with a surreptitious glance toward his son. He blamed himself for carelessly allowing him in this much of the conversation but didn't see a way to move him away from it without raising suspicions. "Jackal isn't willing to miss too many meals." A few chuckles confirmed agreement.
"Owl, wait," Turik interrupted harshly. "There's more."
A blond eyebrow rose in his direction.
"Tha commander a'tha troops. Talk is that it's Urko."
xXxXx
The mile and half forced run from the Oxton stables to the Strekum garrison had been brutal. Pete still couldn't explain with any certainty how ten apes had descended upon them as he and Leman walked out, saddle blankets in their arms and coils of rope over their shoulders. They had done thorough surveillance before they entered the supply room of the stables. The humans assigned to the stables were mucking stalls, eyes down, and ignored their presence, as expected. The chimpanzee troopers were roaming Oxton and the tent village keeping those humans under watch leaving the stables unattended by apes.
When the troopers surrounded them, guns pointed at their chests, Jackal immediately stuttered an explanation that they had been sent to gather the supplies and were on their way back to Strekum. He had perfected the role of the frightened human over the years. His biggest struggle remained keeping the pissed off look out of his eyes.
"Yer on yer way to Strekum, alright," the ape lieutenant announced as the items in their arms were knocked to the ground. Leman and Pete had their wrists roughly bound and hoods thrown over their heads then their ropes were tied to the saddle horns of the ape horses. Pete's nerves jangled warning bells when he heard enough talk to know that the entire troop intended to make that ride. He hoped it was just because they were bored. The humans were forced to jog along the road, only able to see their feet by peering down through the bottom of their hoods as they were pulled unceremoniously to the larger garrison by their captors. Pete searched for, but couldn't think of, a valid reason for secrecy—apes typically didn't care about the nondescript humans they interacted with, and the use of hoods at this point in the game was out of character. With so many strangers in town, it was unlikely they would have been recognized anyway. Both men stumbled repeatedly due to their poor visibility; however, the riders seemed willing to slow until they got their feet beneath them again in order to get them there in one piece. There had been no preliminary blows from ape fists either. Not necessarily the norm, but two of the few mysteries in this situation that Pete welcomed.
When they arrived, winded and thirsty, their bindings were readjusted such that their hands were tied at their backs and their arms secured against their sides with ropes encircling their torsos. The hoods were not removed. With an ape clamped on either arm, they were propelled inside the garrison as evidenced by the dimmer light, the stuffy heat, the echo of the boots on the wooden floor. Pete thought he had worked out a believable lie during their run. He trusted Leman to follow his lead. The influx of strangers into the city should play to their advantage of an innocent mistake by humans unable to understand the orders of their master.
Pete was thrown to his knees on the planked flooring. He heard Leman land next to him. He purposefully leaned into his companion and was pleased that the man pushed back telling him he was unhurt. Now they waited.
"Let's see them, shall we?" a tenor voice stated as the echo of his boots came from behind them and settled in front. The hoods were snapped off causing both men to take a deep breath of air free from the cloying fabric.
Not one to play the apes' game at the best of times, Pete still had the sense to keep his eyes locked on a crack in the wood floor. Right now, they were stupid humans who had wandered into the wrong place. Sorry, Massa.
"What were you doing at our stables?"
Pete glanced up while keeping his head tilted toward the floor to see a large chimpanzee, lieutenant stripes on his vest, peering down at them. He dropped his view immediately.
"Sent to pick up blankets, sir."
"And the rope?"
"To bundle 'em up for the walk back, sir."
"And you were sent to the garrison stables for that?"
Pete squirmed and turned to look at Leman who felt the movement and responded so they could make brief eye contact. Pete did a single slow eye blink letting his companion know that he would take the lead for now. He didn't have the same confidence as when Alan was next to him—those two could communication entire strategies in a glance—but Pete had worked with the large man enough times to know he would stay calm despite the situation. "No, sir. Told to get blankets from Oxton, sir,"
"So why were you arrested at the stable, hmm?"
Pete allowed his scared eyes to meet the chimpanzee's gaze and worked his mouth a few times before stuttering, "D-d-didn't know it was the garrison stable, sir. Looked in and saw the blankets and thought that was the place, sir."
"And just who sent you to Oxton for these blankets?"
"Master Pargus, sir." A common enough name in a town crowded with visitors. But then, that was always the risk when he and Alan worked alone. Without Galen or Zana to act on their behalf, they lacked a visible master when they needed one, and none of the known apes who were part of the resistance were close enough to join them on this mission. That, and Pete never wanted to be part of any endeavor where an ape thought he could boss him around. He'd had enough of that bullshit to last him a lifetime. Pete was still hopeful that they didn't need an actual 'Master Pargus', and he could finagle their way back to the human camp with a warning given the spirit of the upcoming festivities. He dropped his eyes back to their proper place at the boots of the ape.
Pete felt the pressure of the building silence even before the stillness settled around them. It was as if every living soul in the room recognized the approach of danger and hunkered behind whatever protection the stifling quiet might bring.
The tread of the walk, the heavy fall of the foot among the scurrying obeisance of the trailing chimpanzees, the singular squeak of worn leather due to a familiar gait rose like a wraith from the darkest dungeons of Pete's memories, surrounded his heart and trailed along his spine, brushing against him like a malevolent breeze. Sweat itched at his upper lip as his mouth went dry. Peter Burke knew fear. One of the monkeys must have sensed it because a boot shoved his shoulder blade knocking him forward, his palms striking the floor, warning, "Don't move, frog." Leman thudded next to him, thrown into a similar posture.
"What a marvelous day this has become," the voice greeted as he entered. Pete's entire sense of self went blind. Ragged breaths hissed between clenched teeth. "As much as I would enjoy a bit of farce from the pair of you, I think I will begin my fun right away. Denials are useless, you see. You were recognized by one of your own who foolishly thought I might spare its wretched neck because it gave you to me, but I will let the fool grin for today. Will makes its squeal so much sweeter when I catch it and gut it tomorrow. Enough chatter.
"Because of my good spirits, one of you will have a merciful death after you tell me what I want to know. The other, not so much. Which one of you is Jackal?" The deadly stillness of the room lasted for only a few moments.
"I am," Leman announced suddenly and started to stand.
"Stay down," Burke growled, his world clicked back into place when his need to fight back against the bullies of the world reasserted itself. He lifted his eyes with a predatory grin. He forced the fear roiling in his gut into an unobtrusive corner when he gracefully stood erect despite the thongs binding him, unflinchingly meeting the gorilla's eye. His smile widened seeing the disbelief on his enemy's face. "I am Jackal. And Urko, let me say what a pleasure it has been kicking your monkey ass."
A baton slammed Burke across the back throwing him to lie prone at the black boots of the gorilla. Pete took a swift moment to roll his head to its crown to peer back along the floor in order to meet Leman's wide eyes with a look that ordered, 'Stay alive until they get you out!' Two quick eye blinks told Jackal he understood.
Several more seconds ticked by before Urko threw off the shock that had left him paralyzed seeing an old nemesis return but giving him a new opportunity to rip him apart. With a thunderous growl, he grabbed Pete by the front of his shirt yanking him into the air, his feet dangling. He shook him hard, like a devilbear breaking the spine of its prey so it could enjoy the meat while its heart still beat, and Urko was pleased to hear the neck of his prey pop, his teeth snap. He dropped him enough to release one hand and backhanded his face several times sending blood droplets across the uniforms of the surrounding guards. His howl slowly segued into laughter with each blow he delivered. When blood dripped from lacerations at the man's eyebrow, his cheek, his nose, and his mouth, Urko brought Pete's face to within inches of his own.
"Burke," Urko hissed. "Risen from the dead. You're going to wish that foolish, little macaque of yours had given you the proper drugs to end you all those many years ago. I've learned a few fun tricks since the last time we spent together. And now, there's no one between you and me. We shall have all the time we want and only my rules apply. You will be begging me for that needle Burke, ohhh, but I promise, those aren't the kinds of sticks you will be getting."
It hardly mattered that Burke's eyes already had a glazed look due to the intensity of his attack and likely hadn't heard a word. No matter at all. Urko planned to tell him again. Several times.
xXxXx
"We can't get any confirmation, Owl," Jase spoke softly as the pair walked unhurriedly along the hard-packed dirt road from Strekum to Oxton. "No humans are allowed in the garrison walls unless they are in custody. Urko's standing orders for months now. He severely limits how human labor is used within the garrison, preferring none at all but gives in to some of the more vocal Prefects. Even with the restrictions, they don't keep human prisoners long. They are either released to their owners after a few atseht or killed. Because of the influx of visitors for the Festival, they just set up a corral outside the city limits and the humans they pick up are tied to posts in the ground until someone comes to claim them."
"Jackal or Leman?" Alan knew it was a pipe-dream as Pete would have called it, but he had to verify.
"Not there."
"The Oxton stables?"
"They made it that far. The blankets and ropes are still laying on the ground in the dirt where they would have dropped them. Don't know if the humans are too scared to touch 'em or were told to leave 'em there. No chimp has bothered to clean up the mess."
"Leave it. They may be watching thinking that someone else might come to take them. What did Turik find out?"
"Two sets of human tracks were run behind the horses. About the right size for both. Straight to the garrison gates."
"Sounds like that's enough to start planning a rescue. We do have the intel for the mission. We know the layout of the exterior buildings. Anyone who might know the interior of the jail?"
"Not so far. The local populace has a healthy respect for…what does Jackal call 'em… the Overlords?"
"Yeah, that sounds like Pe…Jackal," Alan allowed a weak smile.
"I'll keep asking friendly questions from a nosy out-of-towner from a small village who never saw such a fancy garrison in my whole life. Might find someone who wants to brag."
"Or bitter," Alan frowned. "You said humans are executed without much thought."
"That's everywhere," Jase shrugged. "I'll go back this evening. A lot of work remains to finish the final set up for the Festival tomorrow. Maybe my wide-eyed innocence will get someone talking."
"Any confirmed sightings of Urko?"
"Not that I've heard. Most of the humans wouldn't know that asshole by sight and the troopers have been closed-mouthed. Maybe tonight with more apes wandering around the Festival grounds for the early events, some of 'em might chatter about claiming to know him, ya know, trying to sound important. Might hear something."
"I sent Turik back out into the hills. I'll find him and see if he has any news," Virdon commented as he glanced hopefully toward the rolling countryside, hopeful that the threat of Urko was miles away in Central City.
"So, Owl," the dark-haired man glanced at his blond commander, "we're at T ~1 day. Switching to the atseht counter later tonight…," Jase trailed off, hesitant to ask the final question.
"I haven't aborted the mission. Not yet." No plan survives Burke, the colonel thought to himself. His stomach twisted. Burke, please survive the plan. "In fact, when you get back this evening, join me. I'll pull in Dex and Turik, too. All of you need updated assignments. And Jase, come back late enough that you can park the wagon on the outside of that crowded field. Needs to be accessible tomorrow night."
"Yes. I found a spot near a tree line that keeps us pretty much in the clear anyway." Light brown eyes flicked cautiously toward his blue-eyed companion. "Umm, about the new man? Chris? Look, I know it's not my place to ask, but we're down two men. Will he be joining this mission?"
"I know the situation, Jase. Honestly, I haven't decided. We plan these missions based on known facts and neither Jackal nor I like surprises." Although Pete sure has a knack for creating them, Alan mused. He continued talking, "I will know by the time you come to my tent tonight. Sneak in the back door," Alan added facetiously and grinned as he raked his thick hair back off his sweaty forehead. "If Chris is there, you'll have your answer."
xXxXx
Burke stood ramrod straight in the bare interrogation room, chains at his wrists and ankles. The cuts and bruising on his face were not life-threatening but the contusions made his thin face swell. His eyes flamed with the intensity of his continued defiance. Urko shoved himself away from the wall where he had been leaning, spread his arms into an imposing posture that expanded his chest and took full advantage of his height. He knew his stature intimidated his own soldiers and toward the end of their last engagement, he knew he had terrorized this human. His eyes weren't so challenging then.
The gorilla positioned himself in front of the man. Burke refused to capitulate. His only response was an insolent sneer. No matter. A warmth spread through Urko's chest as the methods he would use to return this despised creature to a defeated lump crumbled at his feet, begging for death, flipped through his thoughts.
Without waiting for instruction, the guard thrust the prisoner to his knees before the Chief General of the Simian Guard. Urko lifted a hand to belay another blow as the trooper raised his fist to thrust the cur's head into the proper bowed position. The chimpanzee obeyed and returned his eyes to the general prepared to execute any order. Urko sniffed. The ape was more subservient than the damn human. Not one of his though. Small favors. The Prefect demanded that his assigned garrison under a captain by the name of Tanik maintain jurisdiction over the jail, seeming to ignore that Urko ultimately held command over every chimp in uniform. But Urko was in Strekum for a reason. He needed the damn Prefect to support him. He could hardly justify any sign of weakness now. Pulling in extra guards who traveled with him to deal with a single human rebel—even one with such notoriety as Jackal—would make him look…afraid…concerned. Instead, he presented himself with the confidence of a general who was certain of the skills of every trooper who pulled on the uniform and the casualness of a leader who intended to crunch another insurrectionist roach beneath his boot.
Burke stared up at him, unflinching. No fear in his eyes, only disdain. A far cry from the sniveling wreck he had become the last time Urko held him in his prison. It irked Urko to see what he could only acknowledge was strength. Will. Determination. What he expected from his soldiers instead of the placid tractability of the ape that waited behind Burke. Urko's nose twitched. An irritation burned just behind his eyes.
His fingers cramped as they dug into the mud, a precarious handhold inside a stone well. Voices, human voices, shouting. Getting closer. Closer. He cringed at the dampness that wet his threadbare, school trousers when the terror overwhelmed him. He choked on his sobs, not even able to cover his mouth to muffle the sound for fear that falling into the depths of the hole was as deadly as the beserking humans above him. Smoke flowed in lazy circles at the lip of the well as he blinked at the ring of blue sky staring down at him as if this was just another day….
"Hide son! Don't come out until I call."
But she never called. She did scream. She still screamed….
Urko swallowed back the whimper in his throat. He wouldn't give Burke that satisfaction. And then he swallowed back the rage. He needed this to take time. A very long time. Then he would have satisfaction.
"You knew it was an inevitable Burke." Urko focused his attention on the manacles at the human's wrists as he used a clipped but mellow tone as much to reassure the observant trooper of his authority as to force him to settle the turbulent pictures spinning behind his eyes. He avoided the defiant expression on Burke's face knowing it would release the fury building in his gut. He knew the guard would spread this encounter to every trooper in this city over his next mug of ale. No, this garrison could never know that a single human could bring out such a rage in the Chief General. Cool. Calm. Controlled. That is what this guard would tell his fellow soldiers in the pub tonight.
"Back together again. Free from interference. I have you and you will provide me with everything that I demand of you."
Pete perceived the slight give in the wood where his knees rested. Must be pier and beam, he thought idly. Must be daytime still. The heat in the room was oppressive and the fur of the apes permeated an odor that they carried when out in the sun. New day, though. They had brought him food and water twice. Didn't expect that. Urko not calling all the shots no matter what he says. And they had let him sleep. Even tossed a rough blanket in his cell, but leaving him alone all night gave him a lot of time to think about who sold them out. Too many guards at that stable at just the right time. His stomach churned at what he suspected. What I know. Don't be blind, Pete. That's how ya get yerself killed.
The jail stayed quiet all night. The guards made a few nasty threats but didn't act on any of them. Haven't messed with Leman yet either. The large man was locked in the cell next to his. Jackal taught his regulars Morse Code. Leman had his orders. "Mild resistance. Only the two of us. Blankets for wildlings in FZ. Avoid serious injury. OK to act broken. For name demands active rebels, give names fighters killed." They were heroes. Let 'em be remembered.
Jackal didn't plan on following that advice. He wouldn't tell 'em shit. He did his best to shove the memories of the last time he was in Urko's filthy paws crawling their way to the surface back into the pits where they belonged. He knew he'd have new terrors to haunt his nightmares soon enough. Maybe ya don't call yourself Major anymore, but SERE still matters. Resist. Alan would expect that. Won't let him down even if it was…even if…Fuck! Ya know what happened.Ya know who gave you to the damn apes.
His mind meandered through the mundane. In a place of white noise. Disaffected by anything around him. He couldn't allow the metaphorical trap door beneath his knees to open. Not even a crack. Or he would tumble into a hole so dark he could never claw his way back again. He gave up before. Alan. He needed Alan to save him. True, Zana and Galen helped drag his physical body away from the brink, but it was Alan who salvaged his sanity. He heard the gorilla speaking to him. And he'd promised himself to never let Urko have him again. Damn. Ape expected an answer, so he finally gave him one.
"So how is your little civil war going there Urk?" Pete asked. "Got Zaius on the run? Oh, that's right. He consolidated his power. Blocked ya out, did he? Conniving ole orang. Never could outsmart those bastards, could ya?" Pete watched with a sense of indifference as the gorilla flinched. The chimp behind him stiffened. Burke suspected the ape's fists were rising again but the silverback brushed his hand through the air, and he assumed the fists opened and dropped to the chimp's sides. The gorilla—just another gorilla named Urko, that's all he is—studied Pete's face while he looked back, stifled a yawn just to irritate his ass. He had learned to read apes over the years. This one had a vein beating in his neck and the tension creases at his eyes didn't match the smile of his lips.
"Your stunts may have provided Zaius and his sad little group of sycophants with a second wind in the latest pursuit of who will hold the highest seat, but ultimately, they will fail. I will be Eldest. More than that, Burke. I will be supreme leader. And when I have dispensed with those fools who want to govern by Council, you and the rest of the vermin will be utterly removed from this planet."
"If you say so," Pete shrugged as he nonchalantly dropped to his ass and straightened his legs, refusing to kneel before the gorilla any longer. The chains gave him enough length to lean back on his hands, and he crossed his ankles, inhaled deeply and imagined the crisp ocean air as if he was relaxing on a beach, sipping a beer before hitting the surf. "Can't argue with you about one thing though. We have been down this road before, haven't we Urko. Don't expect me to tell you any more than I did then. Nada, as I recall. Not a goddamn truthful thing."
"Oh, but things were different before," Urko attempted to modulate his tone, but Pete heard the click of his teeth as the words snapped out of his mouth. The gorilla widened his step and approached the human, one leg on either side of his. "Before, Vonda thought she had some control. Zaius thought that he had control." Urko stopped at the man's hips and bent down to bring their eyes level. The rage roiling in the gorilla's mien was unmistakable. Pete took a ragged breath doing everything in his power to silence the thunder in ears that followed the stealthy squeak of demons unbinding the cloaks that released his traumas and prodding at the trapdoor until it lifted with a narrow crack so that the fetid stench of his fear caused a burning in his chest. He pressed down with his hands so hard it hurt, knowing that keeping that door clamped shut was essential to his survival, but he refused to lean away from Urko's blazing countenance.
"This time Burke," Urko grabbed his neck with both hands, pulled him upright and began to squeeze until dots danced in Pete's vision, the sounds of his gagging cut off with his air as his hands snatched uselessly at the powerful paws. "This time, it is only you and me."
xXxXx
More than his final bite of a meat stew—what meat he chose not to ask as the apes only allowed the concession to the human community cooks as a part of the Estival Solstice Festival—warmed Alan as he swallowed. Chris sat across from him in his tent finishing his meal. Had it been Pete, he would have devoured his first bowl and snuck back for a second all the while suggesting the white morsels were just as likely bits of snake or rat given the food budget allowed. Alan sighed as he glanced toward his friend's rolled up bedroll and hoped he was being fed at all given their experiences while incarcerated. Even with his worry for Pete nestled just behind his eyes, a content grin spread through his face while watching his son. His son.
"I'm going to be spoiled when we leave here," the elder Virdon announced as he sat his plate at his knee where he sat crossed legged on rugs they used to add some comfort to their tent. "Have to go back to cooking duties when we leave."
"I do recall you making a pretty mean Sunday Bruch, Dad," Chris's blue eyes beamed. "French toast, omelets. And chocolate milk!"
"Yeah, I personally milked those brown cows. C'mon, son. Here I was appreciating this meal and now you're going to make me hungry again!"
"You are right though. After the festival tomorrow, it's back to appreciating whatever nuts and berries you can scratch out in the wild."
"The Wandering Berry Hunt, Pete calls it," the elder chuckled. Alan glanced toward Pete's cold blankets again as he took a deep breath before broaching one of the many topics they had been dancing around. The fact that his son had managed to take care of himself and stay alive in an ape world for nineteen years proved he had survival skills, but Alan worried about pressing him into something Chris—and Alan, if he was honest himself—would rather avoid. "About the Festival tomorrow, you know that my activities here with Pete are not necessarily in line with the ape view of the designated roles of humans in this society."
Chris nodded solemnly. A warning born of years of leadership sounded in the colonel's head as Alan considered his approach. He was not ready to face the "Pete" issue with his son, although it hasn't escaped his notice that Chris had never even asked where Pete was despite the fact he had not told him anything about the disappearance.
"I don't need to remind you that the rebels we work with do not know our real names."
"They know yours," Chris corrected. "I heard them call you Al."
Alan chuckled. "Not Al. Owl," he enunciated the last word. "Pete was pretty proud of that especially since he throws Wise Old in front of it every chance he gets. You would have thought he made the phrase up himself."
"Well, he has a history of taking credit for a lot of things he shouldn't," Chris murmured. Alan kept talking as if he didn't hear.
"Said if we were forced to live in a zoo, we might as well act the part."
"Mom always said he was funny," the younger man smiled but there was no humor in his eyes.
"Don't tell him that. Pete doesn't need any encouragement." Alan stared into empty space for a moment, his mouth drawn into a thin line, before he permitted a brief grin. He went on. "The rebels know me as Owl. Not Alan. Not Virdon. And it's best they don't know you have a surname either. Unheard of for humans. Also, best if they aren't told we're related. Places both of us at risk. Even the apes recognize humans can have family bonds which they will exploit. Bottom line, we've learned low profile is the only kind worth having."
"Jackal is hardly low profile," Chris noted.
"True, but few people have an accurate description, and we stay hidden in the human population. I will tell you about our history and how we evolved into what we are today when we have some time."
"'Our' history?" the younger man questioned with a barely concealed sneer. "Don't you mean Burke's latest claim to fame?"
"Jackal is the name Pete uses because it gives a face to what we do. Jackal is the operation he and I do together. And we're good at it because we do it together."
"I've watched you, Dad. The men here listen to you." Chris looked at his father with a sense of pride. "But I've always known you were good at what you do."
Alan paused again, hesitant to turn the handle on a door that could never be closed once opened. Thoughts of his missing friend, the mission needs and for those waiting for its successful delivery pushed him a step away from being a father and into his role as commander. "I normally wouldn't even consider this conversation because we are deep into mission countdown, but we are down two men."
Chris's eyebrows raised slightly. "So, Burke, ummm Jackal, never showed up? I mean, I overheard you were waiting for him to give you a report."
"He and the man he was with have been missing since yesterday. We can only presume that the apes have detained them and since we do not have any apes to act as intermediaries on this mission…"
"Apes? Cooperate with rebel humans?"
The inquiring reaction gave Alan pause, but he continued. "I believe you would be surprised at the number of simians who question their hierarchy in general and the stated goals of Urko in particular."
"General Urko?"
"Yep. One and only. Are you aware of the war that has been playing out between him and the High Counsel?"
"Probably not at your level of knowledge. We weren't kept apprised of current events where I was held."
"A topic for another day. Be aware that Urko wants our destruction…."
"Yours and Burke? Owl and Jackal?"
"Yes on both counts but more generally, he wants the destruction of all humankind. We can't let that happen."
"I didn't know."
Alan leaned forward, his eyes locked on his son. "You do trust me, don't you, Chris?"
"Dad, you are about the only being on this planet that I trust completely. You are the only one I know that cares about me just for me."
"You are right about that. I love you, son, and nothing can change that. I will always be honest with you although you should understand that does not mean revealing everything I know."
"I think that goes both ways, Dad."
Alan couldn't help but feel a strain as the memories of cutting a battered Pete loose from the contraption his son had built and the near deadly injuries he had inflicted on his friend caused chills to rise along his arms. He couldn't help but question how far he could trust his son, especially where Pete was concerned. And he couldn't question the reason for that torture right now. He didn't have the time. He had a more urgent question…maybe. A nervous rustle jolted him from the lengthy pause as Alan struggled with this decision. A glimmer of his child brushed across Chris's face. A boy waiting for some pronouncement from his father with both dread and anticipation, not knowing if he had been caught in some mischief or being given a coveted reward. In that moment, Alan's heart trusted his son.
"With Pete and Leman unavailable, we could use another man to complete the mission. I want you to join us. But only if you want to be involved. Want to accept the risk that entails."
Suddenly anxious to prove himself to his father, Chris sat up, excitement bouncing into his blue eyes. He had no interest in the ape's political machinations but demonstrating his worth to his father, displaying the skills he had developed was paramount. Ousting Burke as his father's apparent crutch appeared to be underway. Joining his father as the one man he could depend on consumed him as the only solution to rescue his father as he planned all these many years. You saved me, son. Chris heard those words over and over in his thoughts. Once he heard them out of his father's lips, then all the sacrifices and pain would be worth it.
"Chris, son, I'm sorry for springing this on you, but I need an answer now," Alan pressed as Chris seemed to hesitate in his response. "The men are on their way here. The mission countdown is in its final hours. Stay if you want to join us. If not, leave now and I'll see you in the morning and set up a place to meet up with you after it's done."
The smile, which anyone else would attest looked just like Alan's, was genuine. "Dad, I can't think of anywhere else I want to be right now. Working with you and your team would be an honor."
Alan took a deep breath. Despite the kernel of fear that wanted to sprout, he meant the words he spoke. "I am proud of you, son. And I am honored that you trust me to lead you. The work we do makes a difference and your willingness to be a part of it is all that matters right now. All the rest," Alan absently waved his hand toward Pete's bedroll, "we'll work out together."
Three distinct scratches dragged along the tent wall interrupting them before Chris had a chance to respond. Alan turned that way before returning his gaze to his son, eyebrows lifted. Chris's affirmative nod left no doubt of his decision.
"Good," Alan muttered as he agilely jumped to his feet and moved to lift the tent fabric along the back wall. Dex quickly scrambled in.
"Turik's on his way," the boy spoke softly and began to brush the dirt from his clothes. He stopped suddenly, his eyes catching the new man sitting on the rugs watching him with a slight grin. Alan misinterpreted the scowl on the boy's face and replied, "You remember Chris. He'll be joining us. Take a seat."
"Yes, sir." Dex positioned himself directly across from the man who continued to gaze in his direction. The younger man glared at him for a moment before looking at his hands folded in his lap determined to keep an eye on him, too.
Turik entered through the front flap a short time later. Alan led them in light conversation for several minutes before Jase's two scratches came at the back of the tent, unseen as it faced the trees marking the outskirts of the temporary human enclave.
"The mission is a go," Alan announced after everyone found a place to sit in a rough circle. "Chris has agreed to join us so I will be making some reassignments…."
"What about Jackal and Leman? When are we getting them out?" Dex interrupted, the fervor on his young face clear to everyone in the tent.
"Getting them out of the jail has become a part of the mission," Alan's voice was firm as he looked at each man seated around him. He caught a hint of surprise from Chris and addressed his next statement to him. "We aren't leaving them behind."
The tension in the tent relaxed at his words.
"The mission goal has not changed but I will need additional responsibilities from each of you. I will be meeting with you individually to review your specific assignments but before we go over the plan, those of you who have worked with Jackal and I in the past know that this is voluntary. You know the risks. Now is the time to step away with no recrimination. Every one of you must be willing to do whatever it takes to make the mission succeed and to watch the backs of every other man here." Alan's eyes roved around the circle and was pleased to see determination in every gaze. He couldn't help but pause as he met his son's blue eyes. His heart stuttered at the veil that was drawn across his expression, the look of a man who had something to hide. He broke the connection as he assured himself that his son was simply preparing himself to trust his life to a tentful of strangers. He began the mission breakdown.
xXxXx
The blue eyes, so like his father's, surreptitiously studied the dark-haired man sitting on a stump to his left. He could hear the sounds of his father's deep voice and the occasional response of the younger Dex who remained inside the tent—the sounds, not the words. The man called Jase had come and gone, slipping into the shadows of the nearby trees. They would never have seen him if both men weren't watching for him. Owl had provided his instructions and sent him on his way.
Chris knew that Turik was watching him, not with his eyes though. The man was too good to slip and give himself away so easily. They were close in age and the hard caution with which he carried himself spoke of a past that those years had been marred by pain but a tenacity for survival. It was also clear that he hadn't answered to an ape in some time, although like all these rebels, with the exception of the boy in the tent with his father who hadn't left his teens, he was able to hide his "wildness" when the need arose.
The younger Virdon grinned at the whining tone of Dex which was quickly countered by the mission commander. Chris felt a funny turn in his stomach as the familiarity of that tone touched him. He hadn't heard it in over twenty years, but he still knew that whatever argument the boy wanted to make was lost. Chris's own pleas usually meant avoiding bed or boring homework or stupid chores. His eyes glazed for a moment recalling the last time he heard that tone was when his dad had admonished him about a schoolyard fight when he punched out a bully talking bad about his father. Colonel Virdon was in space, never to return. And he never heard that tone again until now.
"That boy's about to learn not to argue with that man," Chris said more lightly than his choked heart revealed. The anger quickly erased the hurt allowing his own mission plan to unfold in his mind. He took the opening to gather intel, and hopefully support among these rebels. He allowed a soft chuckle when Turik rubbed at his face to cover the smile at Chris's words.
"He's lucky Jackal ain't the one schoolin' 'im." Chris turned in time to see a sparkle in his brown eyes. "Owl's tough, but Jackal is rough. But they got cause fer what they do. Tha boy'll learn."
"This is my first." Chris leaned down and grabbed a stick from the ground near his feet. He began to twirl it allowing the man next to him to focus on it so he could better see his face in his peripheral vision. "With these two, I mean."
"Not sumpun we talk about," Turik cautioned. "Ya do only as yer told and watch every man's back while yer here. After that, ya don't know 'im 'til yer asked back. And ya don't git asked back if ya don't do as yer told."
"Sorry," Chris apologized. "Makes sense, of course. But…," he trailed off on purpose and waited. An inner smile beamed when the other man took the bait.
"Go on. What's yer but?"
"The job. That's the most important thing, right? The thing that needs to be done and we can't mess it up."
"Still ain't heard yer 'but'." Turik adjusted himself on the stump putting his face in the shadows away from Chris's observations.
"Well,…, okay, I'll just say it, okay? We all know why we're here. We all know what might happen. We all agree to it."
"Yer talkin' 'round yer point an' I'm not sure wha'that might be."
"Don't get me wrong, it's just it seems to me the job we came for should be the job we do. The other…the new part…maybe that's just not what we should be doing when we're short on help."
Turik glanced in Chris's direction and paused on the stick spinning in his fingers. "Ya betta git to that point yer tryin' ta make in a hurry."
"I'm new, but c'mon. Be honest, would we even be talking about taking the risk of taking on the jail head on if it was only Leman? Aren't we only doing it because it's Jackal." Chris had brought one hand to rub at his own mouth as he spoke the names ensuring the rebel noticed he was being cautious. "I understand Jackal is important and all, but no more than anyone else. He agreed to the same risk, and he shouldn't expect us to take those risks just for him."
The dark hair man turned to fully face Chris for the first time since they had joined each other on the stumps. The fire smoldering in his eyes was like the heat of coal about to erupt into scorching flame. "Yer new here an' that's tha only reason my fist ain't in yer face right now. An' I think ya betta listen 'cause the next man—or woman, we got a few, ya know, and they'd probably take ya down even faster fer thinkin' Jackal ain't worth yer time—they might not be so understandin' as me.
"Ya got one thought right on tha way Jackal thinks but ya got it twisted. If it twere only Jackal taken, he'd say ta leave 'im. He ain't worth dying fer. I heard 'im say it myself. But anytime it's one'a us, Jackal'll be tha one tearin' down walls and takin' out what'er got in his way to git us clear. Gotta admit, he don't think much'a humans in general despite his fightin' for 'em tha way he does, but anyone with 'im has his full attention when they need it. Only one person I know he treats different."
Chris raised a curious eyebrow.
"Owl," Turik answered him with a nod back toward the tent.
"You mean they don't always get along?" Chris tried to keep the hopefulness out of the question. Maybe his father wasn't as blinded by Burke as he believed.
Turik scoffed. "I mean, ya don't wanna see wha'happens ta anyone, man or ape, that puts a hurt on Owl. Jackal would take hisself into the bowels of hell and back fer 'im." The dark-haired man gave a wry grin with a shade of the menace that resided inside of him. "I seen it. It twern't pretty. In fact, twas the kinda ugly that can stay with a man an' sure reminds ya that Jackal ain't the man ya wanna cross. An' Chris…," the man paused to make sure he had his attention.
"I'm listening," he assured him, hiding his growing disappointment.
"That's tha reason there's not a man here that puts our job before takin' on tha jail. Tha damn apes ain't takin' Jackal down an' dyin' is worth it ta see that they don't."
The blond head nodded. "I'm glad you told me without giving me a black eye first," he said causing Turik to grin as he turned away. "And you can trust me to do my part, including watching your back." Chris rolled his shoulders while adjusting himself on the stump. Hasslein had warned him that Burke's charisma had been his entry into ANSA despite his military shortcomings and that his manipulation vaulted him onto the Icarus roster above far more talented pilots. Chris should have predicted the asshole's continued ability to beguile others to swarm like gnats under the dangerous light of his influence. He spun the stick in his fingers as his jaw set into a hard line, his jumbled thoughts unable to formulate how to best execute his plan on his own. Jumbled except for one: It wouldn't be the damn apes taking Jackal down.
xXxXx
The rising heat gave away the passing of the morning. Darkness stalled all visual clues except for the solid wood door of the cell; the only hint of light lined the gateway from one aspect of his hell to another. His trips along the hallway revealed that even that light was primarily dictated by torches. If the jail had windows, he hadn't seen any of them. Will make getting out—and breaking in—harder. He hadn't seen any of the exterior doors—the hood covered his head when they were brought in. He assumed those were locked. Most were once Urko started his hidden coup d'état. More apes found themselves in the gorilla's prisons and the message was clear that there would be no easy out when suddenly they were less superior than they thought.
Pete had limited his Morse communication with Leman to the hours when the sounds of the ape's movements—and the heat—decreased. Another hint of the passage of time. No sense in risking giving the monkeys any clues as to their bag of tricks. There hadn't been much to say. It had been a couple of hours, or atsehts in monkey talk, since either of them had their cages opened and enjoyed the hospitality of the chimps. Urko hit much harder. Or maybe these chimps lacked the motivation to remind them how unimportant humans were. At least they still brought them gruel and water. Within his cell, his eye could pick out deeper shadows in the room that held nothing but a piss bucket in the corner and the remains of his last meal served in a battered wooden bowl and a dented metal mug left near the door. As satisfying as it might be to make their retrieval of the items more difficult, he figured it was counterproductive to annoy the ape bringing him some kind of nourishment. He'd gone days with neither his last jail sentence with Urko and he expected that to resume when Urko moved them back to Central City.
The man known as Jackal rolled onto his back, his blanket rolled up for use as a pillow to cushion his head against the wood flooring. It was too hot to need a blanket, although the beginnings of chills and the growing heat building under his scalp and moving into his neck warned that a fever had begun since his injuries went without treatment. Made him wish for a second covering to wrap around him when the shivers took over. The pain along his back and ribs was quiet as long as he didn't move too much. His throat hurt where Urko had squeezed until the lights went out the last time though, the bruises tender.
Leman hadn't been taken for interrogation yet. Pete was glad for that. In fact, he planned to continue keeping Urko focused on interrogating Burke instead of Jackal. Asshole hadn't even asked any questions about what Jackal was up to. Mission countdown was in the final hours. He was confident Alan would keep the men focused. And maybe get them out of this mess.
The scowl that crossed his face caused a pinching along his split lip and the laceration at his eyebrow that deepened his grimace. Knowing Alan, he would use whatever resources were available to ensure the plan was executed and that likely meant using Chris. The chill that moved along his spine was less about fever and more about dread. Again, knowing Alan, for all his ability to analyze and respond effectively to a situation, the colonel had his blind spots. Recognizing his son was likely a traitor would fall smack dab in the middle of those see no evil blinders. Pete knew in his gut that Chris was behind their betrayal, but doubts niggled since he wouldn't have known about the stable assignment. Unless Alan told him. At least he didn't think Chris would reveal tonight's activities since that would put Alan in the hands of the apes. Or would he? Nah, this was personal between the two of them for reasons only Chris understood, and Leman got caught in the idiocy of a lunatic. God, he hoped Hasslein died a horrific death and regretted he wouldn't have the opportunity to be the one inflicting it.
Pete repositioned himself on the floor, his fingers laced across his stomach, his knees bent with his right foot tapping slowly. Just how far would Chris go in his vendetta against him once he found out Alan wouldn't leave them here. How do you follow the meanderings in the mind of madness? He felt a need to move and leapt to his feet. He balanced himself, his body following the forms of Tai Chi. The focus allowed him to control the pain and ignore the signs of infection and prepare for his next Urko encounter. Despite the low impact demands of the exercise, the heat of the room intensified by the stone walls had caused a sheen of sweat to cover his body when he heard the approach of booted feet. The rattle of the keys in his door failed to disrupt his concentration and only the involuntary squint against the sudden brightness flooding the cell suggested he was aware of the ape's presence.
It was only the one unless the others waited deeper in the hallway. Pete considered his next strategic move as his arms flowed through space. He turned at his waist so that his torso was perpendicular to the door but turned his head at a subtle angle allowing him to study his jailer. The silhouette filled the door and stopped, watching him. Pete opted to continue his movements until the ape, spinning leather ties in his hand, stepped inside. His mind raced through possible scenarios to incapacitate the chimp allowing stage one of an escape. He could hear the sounds of other troopers in the area although he couldn't see them, but it was enough to still his consideration for laying his shoulder into the monkey's middle and making a break for the door. Wordlessly, the chimpanzee grabbed his wrist and jerked him around to face him as he quickly wrapped the leather in place. Pete blinked at the watering of his eyes from the light until a familiar face came into focus.
"An ape of his word. A rare beast indeed," the human stated. The chimpanzee grunted and glanced at him as he snagged his other hand and bound them together. The last time they saw one another was in a ruined city when they pulled Urko and Virdon from their underground prison. Burke and Galen negotiated a deal if they helped pull Urko out alive, Nelva would let them leave unharmed. Pulling Virdon out was Burke's pay off. Contrary to the Chief Commander's orders to kill them, the ape honored his agreement, Nelva's bullets flew into the sky and Burke and Virdon with their chimpanzee companions, Galen and Zana, fled.
"You'll remember the rest of that bargain then," Nelva remarked.
"I got what I needed that day. My friends and I walked away."
"Wouldn't plan on that happening today." The ape's tone was not threatening, more conversational. Pete's lip twerked upward at the observation. "I did tell you we'd never stop hunting you and there'd be no more bargains."
"You did say that. Had to be at least one more bargain though," Burke commented. Nelva's snout moved in a gesture Pete recognized as an unasked question. "The one between you and Urko. You're still here."
Nelva shook his head at the oddity of this human. "You are something. No wonder Urko hates you."
"Condolences on your sister, Felga. She didn't deserve what happened," Pete offered. He'd never met her, but her death impacted him all the same. Her murderer almost took him out as well.
Nelva tightened the bindings then tugged a few times to make sure there was no give. He kept his eyes on the leather strips and when he was confident that the human was secured and his thoughts about his sister were once again tucked away, his curiosity go the better of him and he asked, "Why would you care?"
"Zana cared. That's reason enough."
"How did you know she was my sister?" His inquiry revealed in Nelva's raised eyebrow.
"Zana tends to make friends. She and your mother got along. They talked. Women," Pete shrugged.
"Over tea," the ape snorted. Pete laughed. Nelva gave another tug on the bindings. "Come with me. Urko is waiting."
The human sighed and allowed himself to be led into the hall. Nelva gripped him on the elbow, but Burke walked without being pulled. The ape respected that. He gave the human the chance to enter the room on his own. He did. Acted like it was him demanding the meeting. The chimpanzee couldn't help but shake his head. Not even apes were that foolish when dealing with Urko.
Nelva felt like he had stepped into the gathering of a lightning storm surrounding two wild stallions facing off next to a raging river. Neither spoke but Urko and Burke eyed one another, their expressions unreadable. Well, Urko may have kept his face masked but the chimpanzee who had served under him for two decades knew he was spitting mad that the human—this human, in particular—was staring right back. And then the insolent man did the unthinkable, he spoke first.
"Urko. How nice of you to take the time to see me this being your Solstice holiday and all. Makes me feel all warm inside. Oh, no, wait. That's just the damn heat with this being the summer solstice and all."
Urko held his rage in check although Nelva saw the flare of his nostrils when he lifted one leg as he leaned to sit at the edge of the wooden table. This was a larger interrogation room so that and two chairs were the only furnishings except for the metal rings spaced along the far wall for tying prisoners. His commander held his silence thinking to intimidate the human. Even Nelva knew that was wasted effort. And the human chattered on.
"Nice little jailhouse they got here. Not a rat in sight and hot meals on the regular. Ya outta take notes. Spruce up your accommodations back home. Might see an uptick in cooperation from a lot of your guests." Burke waved his bound arms in a circle to indicate the room.
"You plan to cooperate, Burke?" Urko's tone was almost welcoming.
"Who me? Nah. Gonna ignore you here, there, and everywhere." Pete grinned at the gorilla and forced his fingers to remain unclenched, his breathing even. The low growl that he interpreted as a chuckle from the gorilla did make his jaw grind a little.
Urko's hands began to bump. "You forget. I remember the cowering piece of slime shivering at my feet wondering whether you get the broomstick or the bucket next."
"And you forget. I remember the scared monkey who lost his shit 'cause I tricked you, embarrassed you. Made you look like a fool. You should be afraid. I'm gonna do it again."
"Afraid? Me? Of hairless vermin. Of you? Oh, Burke," Urko clucked his tongue making no attempts to conceal his hands knotting into fists, the previous light touches becoming hard enough that Pete could hear the impact. "You have no understanding how deep into the depths of fear I will drag you."
"Look Urko," Pete set his feet apart to keep his balance steady, "I know you feel towards me about the same way I feel toward you and fear ain't got nothing to do with it." Although he knew that part was a lie. The dead cold in the pit of his stomach was full of fear, not so much of dying, but of how long it would take to get there. He could only hope that Urko was lying, too. Maybe he'd done enough to put some fear in the gorilla's gut as well. Urko's fight for power was on-going and he had to know that Zaius would exploit any hint of failure that Pete could give him. He tried to allow that cold to spread, to deaden everything it touched. He wanted desperately to hide all that he was feeling, leaving only disdain for the ape in front of him and everything he represented. Burke hid a helluva lot more secrets now. They both knew it. And Urko had far more to gain if Burke should break and a lot to lose when he didn't.
Urko shifted on the table, tilting his head to gaze at the metal moorings as if considering if he would tie his prisoner there to begin their chat in earnest. "Such a foolish creature you are. In your insolence, you do not grasp that your existence means virtually nothing to me. I have no more feelings toward you than a gnat buzzing about my head." The gorilla slammed his palm against the table, the sound reverberating throughout the room. "One good swat and your inconsequential existence ends. Nelva, shut the door." Urko waved nonchalantly toward his lieutenant. The chimpanzee shoved Burke several steps forward as he pushed the door until a loud click announced the catch of the latch.
"I must admit it was a bit of surprise to see you, Burke. I did think you dead."
"There's your mistake. Thinkin'." The man's lip curled up on one side.
"Those missing years. It will justify my lengthy…exploration…of your flesh." Urko fumbled at something along his side. He removed a finely wrought chain, far more advanced than anything produced by the apes, weaving it through his fingers before dropping the attached oblong shaped embellishment. The gorilla released a satisfied exhalation when he saw Burke stiffen. "Virdon." Urko twirled the attachment with one finger. "He dropped this little trinket of his in the streets of the City so many years ago. A sentimental reminder of his bitch and her whelp." Burke's lips pressed together tight enough to lose that sickening pinkish color. The engraved picture of the blond human, his female and their get spun lazily on the chain. "Thought I should remind you of how I planned to use my knife on him since he will be a part of our little get-togethers. I intend to gut him in front of you." Urko's wrist popped upward, "Although I will enjoy his castration first," the ape announced as he snagged the necklace into his fist then returned it to a pouch at his belt. "I will let him watch me do you next. Fair is fair."
Pete shrugged, wishing the sweat running along his back would stop itching. "You can dig him up if ya want. Defiling a corpse is about your style. You are one depraved mother fucker." Nelva's nervous rocking behind him added to the distractions. Pete drew a deep breath with a slow exhale as his thoughts jumped out of his mouth before he had a chance to think it through. "Also goes to show what chicken shits you are. You don't have the guts to take me on in a fair fight." Burke lifted his bound wrists in Urko's direction.
"That's what you want? To fight me." The gorilla's brow shot up.
"Yeah, now that I'm not beaten, malnourished and dehydrated like the last time. Take off these leather strips and let's go at it. If gorillas are so damn superior, prove it."
Urko drummed at the table as he considered the taunt. None of Strekum's troopers were present and Nelva's loyalty was bought and paid for. It did stick like a glob of phlegm in his throat to give Burke any leverage over him and his refusal to accept the challenge gave the human a carrot to grip in its fist—a measly carrot but a carrot, nonetheless. That, and Urko wanted to see blood gushing from this animal's face. He tugged at his gloves until his fingers flexed freely from the coverings and laid the thick leather gauntlets, one atop the other, on the table.
"All right. Nelva, release him." Urko stood, his arms cocked in front of him.
"Urko…," the chimpanzee cautioned. Pete turned to the side and held his hands toward Nelva but kept his eyes on the gorilla, a feral smile lighting his face.
"As I was reminded, this is a holiday and we should have some fun," the gorilla smirked. "This slug crawled out of a manure pit and wants to show me how much of a warrior he is. He's about to learn a hero from shit ain't nothing but another piece of shit."
Nelva narrowed his eyes but removed Burke's bindings.
Pete rubbed his arms gingerly and began to stretch. His eyes ignored Urko as he shoved the table against the wall opening the space between them. Pete made a quick analysis of his options for using the room to overcome his physically superior opponent then darted toward the pouch containing Alan's medallion with the picture of his family.
"How long have ya held on to that damn pictorial dog-tag anyway? Nine years now? Ten? For a human that doesn't matter to you, you sure…." When Urko's eyes drifted downward toward the pouch, Pete attacked. Burke had studied and mastered more than one style of fighting back in the day—held national amateur ranking in a couple until ANSA made him quit when he made the Icarus roster, damn he got tired of being told what to do— but was reminded again of the lessons he had learned as a boy surviving the bullies of his childhood: hit them more than they hit you and hitting first was a good way to open the ledger.
He jabbed his fingers at Urko's eyes, but the ape reacted just enough that he only caught the corner, not the eyeball. The move was really just the opening salvo knowing he needed to overcome Urko's strength with his speed and ruthless assaults. Pete assumed his opponent would hold back his full arsenal. The gorilla had designs of extending Burke's demise with a treasure trove of torture, but Pete held no such reservations. He intended to cause as much damage as this opportunity allowed and standing over the gorilla's corpse would be a boon to all of mankind.
Burke followed the instinctive tilt of Urko's head with a punch hoping to knock him further off balance. Taking advantage of the natural bend of the ape's knee, he smashed his heel into the soft tissue at the back to drop the knee to the floor. Urko growled with the fury of his ancestors, swinging a thick arm back in the human's direction. Pete was on the move, but it caught him in a glancing blow sending jarring pain through his already battered body. He stumbled into the wall preventing his fall and permitted a glance toward Nelva assuring himself that the chimpanzee had assumed a lackadaisical lean against the door.
Knowing he had no chance head-on against his adversary, Pete used bounding legs to move off the stone wall and took a leap at the closest open corner. Using a combination of parkour moves from the streets and graceful bends he had perfected in anti-grav, Burke's feet literally danced along the wall surface taking him atop the table behind the lumbering ape. Pete's legs wrapped around Urko's chest as he sought purchase with his arms around the ape's shoulders.
Going toe to toe with the monkeys over the last few years had taught him a lesson or two about ape anatomy and how to exploit it. From his position on Urko's back, Pete twisted the gorilla's head at an angle that opened a tender furrow along his neck allowing the man's long, slim fingers to dig into the vulnerable exposure along his right side toward his carotid artery. Burke slammed with all his strength to block the vital flow of blood to his brain. His tactic proved rewarding when Urko's gasps and stagger of his knees started to bring him down.
Urko was crumpling, his vision blurring, his head exploding unable to rid himself of the parasite draped at his back. He bucked suddenly throwing Burke against the table.
The table edge struck the right side of Pete's head with a mind-numbing blow, electric strikes filled with color coursing through him; however, Burke's survival instincts refused to relent. He tightened his hold on the teetering ape, his finger plunging deeper as if a shiv was the weapon he held. Blood poured over Pete's face, blinding him to everything but a raging vengeance focused on the powerful mass writhing beneath him and the undeniable need to increase his grip knowing any weakness on his part would mean his end. And Urko would continue to breathe. Pete couldn't allow that.
Burke grunted out loud as his stiff fingers felt liquid warmth rise along the tips. Urko dropped to both knees, his arms flailing inadequately at the unrelenting hold of the human. Pete's concentrated grunts became an uncontrolled moan when a freight train pounded between his shoulder blades, thick arms slid beneath his armpits and wrestled him off of his prey just as the ape succumbed, landing hard on all fours with a deadened thud against the floor. Pete could see Urko below him, his own feet dangling uselessly to one side of the heaving gorilla as he was swung face-first against the wall, his neck placed in a pincer grip, the long, bloodied cut over his ear marking the stone with rivulets of bright red against the pale rock.
Only heaving breaths filled the room making it easy for Pete to hear the slow rise of the gorilla despite the echoing throbs in his ears. Urko's lieutenant wisely said nothing and took no action other than to hold Burke in place. The dark-haired man, again, set his feet in a place of balance and pressed both hands near his shoulders and levered against the wall to ease the choke hold of the chimpanzee. In the back of his mind, Pete realized he was grateful for the ape's decision to hold him in place, because he didn't want to fall at Urko's feet and wasn't sure he could remain standing against the waves of pain threatening to draw him away.
Pete felt the menace before Nelva spun him around. The chimpanzee slipped his arms under Burke's, reaching upwards to grip his shoulders, and thrust him toward Urko.
The gorilla drew heavy but measured breaths. Despite his intention to keep his features neutral, the rage in his eyes spun like a dust storm splintering everything it touched.
The human made no effort to hide its thoughts from its face. Blood continued to seep from beneath his hair along one cheek and soaked into its shirt. The fluid drained into its mouth turning a sickly pink along its teeth. The macabre appearance angered Urko more. The gorilla reached for the back of its head, grabbing the dark braid that hung along its back and yanked downward as he brought his fist up but paused, cursing himself, as the insolent Burke spoke.
"Two against one. What I expected from you apes in a fair fight."
"You forget, Burke. I always fight to win." Urko slammed a punch into the man's gut knocking him back despite Nelva's hold on him. "And when I fight with vermin," the second blow had greater strength as the far-away screams of his mother filled his ears, "I destroy them." The next strike landed in Burke's flank below the ribs with a satisfying whoof as blood splattered air was forced from the creature's lungs and red flecks dotted Urko's snout. The smell filled him, and he drew a deep breath to savor it. "But not before you tell me everything I want to know," he punched the other side causing Nelva to lose his grip for a moment before taking a step and reaffirming his hold, "if I have to tear it out of you one question at a time."
As Urko engaged in Burke's systematic beating, his mind was pulled into the fields where he made his name as the champion of apekind destroying the human uprising with a cruel vengeance. The shrieks had been human then and the screams of his mother stilled. The annihilation had been total and the taste of the blood on his tongue whetted a ceaseless thirst, for a time. But the need to kill always reasserted itself and the satisfying memory of flinging viscera back into their faces as the creatures wailed consumed him.
A sound intruded. Not a scream but a snicker. Urko stopped, his fist poised to strike, as the stone walls of the prison coalesced around him. Burke's head wavered, tilting to the left but he lifted his chin, refusing to bow. The dark eyes danced along with the smug chuckle that rumbled in his throat.
"Something amuses you," Urko stated, his pleasure perverted. He sought that haven of bliss where he dominated this piece of refuse and needed to silence its attempt to disrupt his driving need to humble, humiliate, hurt this human—this one above all others.
"Yeah, I know something you don't." Burke's grin widened, his voice strong despite the damage and the promise for more.
"Stupid human. That's why we are here. So you will tell me all that you know."
"Stupid ape. You don't even realize that I am in control."
"Burke, the broken broomstick that I will thrust up your ass would suggest otherwise."
"No, Urko. I am in control. No matter what you do, I'm not telling you anything. Go to hell. But then again, I think we're both already there."
The war waging through Urko's features traveled into his puffing chest, into the clenching of his arm as he yanked his pistol from its holster and dug the muzzle under the man's chin. The battle continued to rage as a sneer lit the gorilla's face. He reholstered his gun, and slowly pulled a double-edged knife from its sheath on his belt. He rubbed it seductively across Burke's left cheek, twisting it just slightly to nick the bruising skin. "I promised you the taste of my blade. I will make cuts until you tell me what I want and then, when I am through with you, I will slowly pull out your entrails until you die."
Burke cackled, an ominous sound in the still room. "See, you still don't get it, you fuckin' moron. I'll die knowing I didn't tell you shit."
"What about your precious Virdon? Are you going to be so willing to let me do the same to him?"
"Oh, seems to me if you were in that position, you woulda already done it, so go ahead. Show me what ya can do to Virdon. No? 0-fer-2, then." Burke continued talking as the gorilla painstakingly put his knife away. "Urko, you know it. I know it. And Nelva knows it. I was kickin' your sorry ass."
The fist that buried itself in Burke's gut felt like it had busted through his back. Not a sound escape before he folded, unconscious over Urko's fist. With a nod from his commander, Nelva released him letting him drop, face first, onto the floor. Urko leaned down, his fists on his knees, smiling triumphantly.
"In the end, Burke," Urko preened, "even you have to admit that I kicked yours."
xXxXx
Alan moved gingerly among the wide trunks of the oak trees which had held their own against the mutations of time, blue eyes darting along the ground for the proper length and circumference of fallen branches. With the large gathering for the Estival Solstice Festival culminating this evening, the ground had been picked clean by scavengers, like himself, forcing him to range some distance from the Oxton human campgrounds, but for now, he avoided approaching Strekum and the unwanted scrutiny of the apes. Later, when the need was vital, he would lumber unobtrusively into the town, unseen, unnoticed, undetected. Another servant of the apes bringing kindling to the massive fires burning in celebration of a new season.
The partially filled sack dragged at his shoulders as Alan rose stiffly, stuffing another broken branch into its confines. The rough bark and jagged tendrils, some clinging to its faded leaves, incited a battle as the pieces resisted the intruder's entrance into the bag. Bend and stuff. Bend and stuff. His back and legs ached. His hip knotted along the knobby, sickly white ribbon left by a bullet and the surgery that followed, stretching tightly past his groin deep into his thigh causing a hitch in his breath as he sucked in the thick air. He laid his hand across the scar—he could feel the raised disfigurement through the thin fabric of his pants—taking a moment to stop. To rest. He heard Pete's voice poking gently into his thoughts: Aging sucks, old man. And you're doing a mighty fine job of suckin' at it. Alan's attention wandered briefly in the direction of Strekum. Another ache, this one in his head, stirred. His plan to enter the jail was tenuous but he had to accept his limitations to devise something more workable. There just wasn't enough information and they were forced to fly by the seat of their threadbare pants. Pete was far better at those kinds of unmoored, race in and take it as it comes "strategies" than he would ever be. He conceded how much he needed his friend.
And he hated to admit it, but he was hungry making his headache worse. He always felt a twinge of foolish remorse when he ate well when Pete was hurt, and he had a light breakfast as a result. The soldier in him knew the importance of maintaining his strength but the food was tasteless and most of it was tossed to the wildlife to enjoy. He wasn't sure why he assumed Pete was going without food. They didn't know if Urko was involved. Only heard the rumors that he was in the city and rumors of Urko followed them regularly. By all accounts, this Prefect did not torment his humans. His justice was swift but not cruel. Alan knew his friend rarely let his worries interfere with a good meal. A man's gotta eat, Al. And drink. Just wish it was more of the right kind of eatin' and drinkin', ya know.
Virdon scoffed to himself as his mind wandered through his plans of entering Strekum itself. He was more confident with that decision. They would deliver the kindling to one of the larges bonfires, passing through the carts and stands of food vendors of all varieties to observe and assess ape activity. His stomach growled at the picture in his mind of the vendors cooking Solstice specialties on the hot rocks without use of flame. Thin circles of bread were laid upon the stones heated by the sun and topped with warmed eggs, meats and pepper strips all stirred upon the flattened rocks. Light cook to be sure but nothing that could be claimed as raw. And it was delicious. Within moments, his waterskin was opened. The lukewarm water was still water.
The heat settled around him, thick as sand. Pausing to lean against the stability of a weathered trunk, the long, crooked branches mantled above him offered a suggestion of relief from the searing stabs of the sun, beams striking through at angled shafts dappling the ground with light and shadow. The rustle of leaves in the treetops taunted him with the hint of breeze blocked by the now ancient forest. Woods reclaimed the land once clear-cut by men. Alan bent his ear to the east. At least the cluttered ground announced the approach long before the visitor revealed themselves as another intruder passed among the trunks. He knew Chris was nearby somewhere northwest of him gathering his own admission into Strekum beneath ape notice. Alan resumed his task with his hooded eyes watching for the interloper in case it was an ape.
The commander shook his head followed by chagrined annoyance that a soft groan escaped his lips when the lanky figure exited the cluster of trees, stuck his hands into his trouser pockets and headed toward him.
Dex.
Virdon sighed. Not only would the boy require a stern reminder about following protocol—again—Alan decided he would need to spend some time teaching the boy on ways to avoid warning your enemy of your presence if they were going to continue to use him. Pete seemed insistent on it, and Alan knew once his friend's mind was made up, the only way through that mountain was to start climbing.
"What are you doing here, Dex?" Alan kept a stern tone while he readjusted the heavy sack on his back as he inserted another handful of broken branches. "You should be preparing for your initial assignment not bringing attention to me."
"Turik is fixing up the cart and gave me a couple of atsehts to get back. Told 'im I needed to talk to you. It's important, Owl. About the…," he glanced around them assuring himself that they were alone, "…mission."
Alan observed with the studied interest of a commanding officer as Dex's face wavered from red to colorless and back again. He knew it had nothing to do with the heat or his exertion in trailing him and everything to do with the words stuck in his throat.
The boy took a deep breath before exhausting it in his hurried speech. "You told us you need to know everything no matter how small 'cause anything can change in a moment and that the one small thing can tip the balance between success and failure, life and death." Dex kept his eyes firmly on his feet that shuffled around leaving a neon sign flashing in the dirt for an amateur tracker to read. "I didn't even think about it at first but two days ago once we came together after looking for Jackal and Leman, I haven't thought of anything else since."
"Two days? You are here now in the middle of the woods with no obvious purpose, possibly breaking our cover, over something that might tilt the mission against us after thinking about it for two days?"
The color was gone again. "Yes, sir."
"Explain and make it fast. The mission clock is running, and I don't have a lot of time to adjust if necessary. Stand at attention and look me in the eye, soldier."
"Yes, sir," the boy's voice cracked as he drew himself into the position Jackal and Owl demanded from the recruits they utilized—well, Alan demanded adherence to some military discipline; Pete at least acknowledged the value and went along with it. "I disobeyed protocols an' spoke of my assignment at the stables outside of my assigned cohort."
Dex stood ramrod straight, his eyes focused on the tree at Alan's back. Virdon took note of the ease with which the young man had adopted the language and bearing he expected on these missions and knew the teen desperately wanted to be a part of their work. Dex had some potential, but Alan's stomach tightened as he realized the consequences of his missteps and saw the reason for the boy's worry.
"I need the complete explanation, Dex." Alan hardened his blue eyes to sharp glass with the expected nervous twitch it brought to the boy.
"On the morning of the stable assignment, Jackal removed me for failure to complete my assignment the night before. I didn't escort Malich, the headman, all the way to the healer's hut. Because I circled back to provide back-up security for the meeting Jackal arranged, I saw the new man come in."
"Chris," Alan's low voice carried an edge Dex could not decipher. He stumbled on.
"Yes, sir. I knew what he looked like and when I ran into him following behind Jackal right after Jackal released me from the stable job, I thought he was the one replacing me. I knew I let Jackal down and I was scared he wouldn't want me for the rest of the mission…or any other mission. Seeing the man from the meeting going with Jackal—well, I thought he was anyway since he was walking the same direction—made me angry. I figured he had to be one of us, but he hadn't been tried yet and thinking he was taking my place, well, I just needed to say something. The way the rest of us see it, you have to earn an assignment with Jackal. It's an honor and shouldn't just be the first thing assigned to prove yourself," Dex's cadence quickened as he tried to explain himself. His cheeks and ears had reddened, and his toes were tapping although he continued to hold his arms stiffly at his sides.
"I confronted Chris about it and said enough that told him where Jackal was going and what he was doing. That night when we all ended up at your tent, he was there but said he hadn't seen Jackal. And then when it was said Leman was missing, too, that's when I knew it wasn't Chris that Jackal chose to go with him to the stables. But Chris knew about the assignment. He was walking behind Jackal. Following him."
"When Jackal removed you from the assignment, were you overheard?" Virdon heard the question spoken in his voice and was as surprised as Dex that he made the suggestion that Pete might have been the one placing them all at risk.
The boy opened and closed his mouth before piecing together his answer. "Jackal never stated anything about the mission that an outsider could recognize. I understood what he was telling me without him saying it exactly. I failed to do the same."
Virdon's next statement exited harshly although he knew the boy deserved some of the vitriol directed at the teenager. "Other than admitting another serious breach of protocols, what point are you making, Dex?"
Owl's hard glare aimed at Dex made him swallow the words he wanted to share about suspecting Chris. He knew actions of betrayal resulted in death and accusations needed to be based on more than his jealousy and hurt feelings. He tightened his jaw fighting the burning in his throat and fought to keep his eyes up as he continued.
"Someone must have told the apes…sir. Those that saw it said there were ten troopers there and they poured out of the woods like they'd been waiting for them. And you know Jackal wouldn't have been fooled if they were hanging around acting like they there for some other reason. He's smarter than the apes. Ummm, you, too, sir," Dex added with a swift glance toward the steel blue eyed fixed on him. Alan crossed his arms but gave no indication he expected anything other than a conclusion to the young man's dissertation.
Dex's attention returned to the tree bark over Owl's shoulder. "He woulda scouted the area first. He woulda waited 'til they cleared out. It wasn't time sensitive yet. You said so at one of the briefings. The apes had to be back aways, hidin', listenin' for a signal. And that means the apes had to be there because they knew we were comin' and since I spoke of it when I shouldn't have to someone who shouldn't have known about it, they may have known because of me. It's my fault that Jackal and Leman were taken."
Alan stood quietly. The silence wrapped around them as heavy as the heat. He allowed the sweat to burn his eyes knowing Dex was experiencing the same, the young rebel's forehead glistening but his hands locked at his hips refusing to wipe it away. Alan's own thoughts tumbled as he sought to pull the pieces together to fit the boy's revelation into the situation he must now resolve. Their lives—Pete's life—depended on it. He resisted the urge to clear his throat and finally spoke with a clarity intended to shake the boy metaphorically since he was unable to do it physically.
"I'm not here to give you absolution, Dex. Deal with your guilt on your own time. You screwed up…again. You are correct. Your chatter was probably overheard…."
"I didn't see anyone nearby…," Dex interrupted, his eyes darting away from the tree and facing Owl head on but held his position this time.
"…allowing a detrimental distraction to the mission and a dangerous detention for our comrades," Alan ignored him.
"I want to join you in the garrison," the boy insisted, tossing his head to remove the thin, brown bangs that had drooped into his eyes. "It's my fault Jackal and Leman were taken. I need to be a part of their rescue." Dex took a small step forward, one hand outstretched as the begging in his voice slipped through.
Alan straightened, hiding the twinge in his hip exasperated by the pull of the bushel basket. "You will follow orders, or you will face my sanctions. It is not your place to decide our strategy and your desire is absolutely irrelevant. You will do as you are told, or I will hog tie you in the deepest part of these woods and walk away. Do you intend to follow your exact orders and be a part of this mission, Dex?"
"Yes, sir." Alan was pleased to see the fire in the boy remain and knew he could not afford to lose his help if they were to be successful tonight. He reached out a hand and laid it on the narrow shoulder.
"Good. I am counting on you, son.
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."
"I will be waiting for your signal so I can get Jackal and Leman back. I will see you at the target site."
"I won't let you down. Not again."
"Good man," Alan allowed his well-known half-grin as he patted the boy's shoulder. "Go help Turik. Everything begins with the two of you."
Alan released a slow breath as he watched Dex fade into the trees, dipping into the shadows of the thick branches spread in a canopy above them. He managed to avoid revealing his startle reflex when Chris slipped quietly next to him. He had taught his son how to track and become a part of the environment, moving with the stealth of a hunter…and protector. He wondered if anyone took the boy hunting after he left. He hoped that at least the foundation of the skills he had been taught by his father remained.
"Problems?" Chris asked, his eyes staring into the empty woods where the brush still waved absently due to Dex's passing.
Alan pursed his lips considering the question. Keeping his eyes along the same path, his voice was calm, although he could not claim the same for some thoughts. "Maybe not. Or maybe the kind you don't see coming."
xXxXx
Nelva enjoyed the transformation of the ass-sniffer's face when he threw Tanik out of his office. The captain of the Strekum garrison puffed out his chest and thought about pulling rank on him but flipped into the sniveling, kowtowing, caa caa eater Nelva had seen throughout the police forces when Urko strolled in behind him, taking over the room with a single look.
The word "out" had barely ground out through Urko's teeth before Tanik bobbed and weaved his way into the hall giving Nelva the satisfaction of slamming the door in his ugly face. Nelva had tossed himself into one of the chairs in front of the desk where his feet found a handy place to rest. He knew his commander was "allowing" the garrison to make all outward decisions about on-going security including the handling of the prisoners. Urko needed Prefect Marlen's unwavering support and he remained one of the cowardly fence-sitters in the struggle for power in Central City. He had to let the damn orang think he would be allowed to make his own rules in his Prefect once Urko was fully in charge. Trying to act like one of the damn District Chiefs from north of the Iron Mountains. Based on the spineless obsequiousness Nelva had witnessed among the troopers here, the entire Prefecture waved like wheat in the wind bending with whichever whispered word tainted their ears. Hell, Burke had more spine than the lot of them.
He was not surprised when Urko had claimed the captain's chair, landing his own boots on the top of the desk, his pipe smoke adding an aromatic ambiance to his good mood. His interrogation of the prisoner had concluded well, and Nelva assured him that he had left the human unconscious, unceremoniously sprawled on the hard floor of the cell with orders he was not to be disturbed until Urko said otherwise. The nearby guards shrugged and returned to their card game. Nelva puffed a perfect circle of smoke in front of him and took it as a sign from the Mothers that now was the time to tug his friend—if Urko truly considered anyone a friend—away from his pleasure of hurting the man back to the opportunity he presented.
"Burke doesn't deny he's Jackal," the chimpanzee took care to keep his tone light.
"Are you making a point?" The gorilla rubbed at his sore knuckles before his fingers dabbed at the deepening bruise beneath his eye. He considered that he might need to see a healer if the blurriness didn't improve over the next few days. Not that he would admit that Burke came close to doing some damage. Once they returned to the City, he would be enjoying some damage of his own. Might even take one of his damn eyes out just to dangle it in front of his face.
"He's got the names and descriptions of a buttload of resistance fighters, their leaders, sympathizers, bases, where they bivouac, safe shelters, and any plans in their froggie dreams. Apes and human, ya gotta figure. You ain't really asked him for a one of 'em."
"Patience. Patience, my good lieutenant. First, I do credit the little rodent for being a brain loop above most of the vermin we club to death, and he was surprisingly resilient the last time we had the pleasure."
Nelva shrugged, reaching out for the cup of ale Urko had poured from his flask and pushed across the desk once he had settled into place. "You keep it up, and you're gonna destroy all those brain loopty-loops you're counting on to tell you what you wanna know."
"Ahh, Nelva. It is the Estival Solstice. We're entitled to a bit of a holiday ourselves. The Mothers couldn't have presented me with a finer gift. Let me play with my toy until we return to the City. Burke will be put in a hole so deep, not even the tunnel rats can find him, and he will tell me everything I ask. He will lick my ass and suck my balls and spill the darkest secrets he knows. And then," Urko released a long plume of smoke into the air, "I will torture him some more because it does give me pleasure." The gorilla chuckled.
"You think the other one—Virdon, wasn't it?—is still around, too?"
"Possible. My sources said they were both dead some years ago in the western desert. Burke says he's dead, but he lies."
"Maybe we need to revisit your sources. Don't like misinformers much," Nelva extended his arm toward Urko's offer to replenish his cup.
"I trust you to handle that. I will give you the file when we get back." The pair struck their mugs together before each took a long draw of the bitter liquid. Urko did enjoy the burn, Nelva thought idly. "There is talk that Jackal has a second," Urko recalled.
"I seem to remember it was the other way round with Virdon and Burke," Nelva pushed back in the chair lifting the front legs from the floor. "Can't say as Virdon would ride on the rear end of a horse from what I remember. Burke seemed to let 'im make the decisions."
"Can't say a human should sit on any part of a horse without taking a bullet in its head. But there is the beauty of it, Nelva," Urko pointed the stem of his pipe in the direction of his second. The chimpanzee's snout twitched his curiosity. "These two are as predictable as the rising of the sun. Where one goes, the other follows. Wherever they came from, they have a different stench than the ones fouling our land. Unlikely as it may be, they have a bond and it's something to exploit. The announcement of Jackal's capture and return to Central City will spread. It should take out the knees of the Council Members who want me removed, silence the little vermin who think they can break from their masters, and perhaps the most reliable result, if Virdon lives, he will come for Burke. He did before. He'll do it again." Urko laid his pipe on the desk to dig into his pocket and remove the old pendant he had shown Burke earlier. He tossed it to Nelva who had to allow the chair's front legs to pound loudly on the floor to catch it.
"Didn't know you kept this until today. Gotta say, I was surprised." He held the finely wrought chain in his fingers, the intricate etchings of the image of Virdon and his family fascinating to the simian eyes. He knew no ape could have made such a thing and didn't understand how a human had crafted it.
"We all need reminders of our failures, Nelva. Makes our victories that much sweeter," he chuckled thinking of the raw passion that coursed through him that afternoon as his fists pummeled Burke until he lay in a crumpled heap at his feet, his arrogant mouth silent at last. "Have our troops detain any light-haired human they see. We might get lucky. Cutting off little pieces of Virdon in front of Burke would be a laugh." The chimpanzee tossed his commander's token spoils back to him. Urko slid it smoothly back into his pouch.
"The other prisoner. Ya want me to shoot him before we go out this evenin'?"
"Nah," the gorilla emptied his cup before pulling his lined tobacco container from inside his vest to refill the pipe bowl. "We'll take him back, too. Leverage. Burke has a weakness. Confuses stupidity with some kind of nobility. He'll sacrifice himself before another human. Hasn't caught on to just how worthless they are. Breed like voles. You'd think he would see that you have to kill a whole mess of them to make a difference and killing 'em one at a time doesn't accomplish much. He'll make a substitute for Virdon though."
Nelva nodded as the conversation hit a comfortable lull. The chimp sent a smoke ring into the air when he ventured, "Would you do it for me, Urko? Fess up to stop 'em from torturing me?"
"Never." Nelva raised an eyebrow at his commander's immediate admission. "I know that you would prefer to make the ultimate sacrifice before you would expect me to betray my honor."
"Your honor would be the thing I'd be worried about." Nelva settled into another pause considering a safer topic. "You gonna 'question' Burke some more today?"
"Nelva," Urko shook his shaggy head, "didn't anyone tell you, it's the Estival Solstice. I must go remind the Prefect of his need for my protection and what might happen if his loyalty waivers. Then, we're going to go wander the streets of Strekum. Enjoy the music. Join the games. Drink a pint or two in celebration."
The chimp allowed a low laugh to match the twitching of his snout as he waved his pipe toward the blackened cheek and abrasion along Urko's neck. "And when the Prefect asks about your…injuries?"
Urko took a drag on his pipe as he considered. "We were wrestling. A scrimmage to keep skills in place. The muscles toned. Good for the orange menace to recognize what a warrior looks like."
"Well, I'm proud to say that I managed to leave a mark on the great Chief Commander Urko and walked away unscathed," Nelva laughed with more fervor. "Should raise my standing among the troops, too."
Nelva was unprepared for the massive fist that landed along his nose just below his left eye causing a gush of blood to announce the jarring pain as he fell over in his chair. He shook his head to clear the roaring in his ears then glanced up at his friend leaning over the desk, jeering in his direction, smoke trails rising above his head.
"It was an even match until I took you down, Nelva." Urko lowered himself into his chair as the chimp struggled to his feet.
"A worthwhile practice session against a superb fighter, commander," Nelva acknowledged while returning his chair to its legs and dropping heavily onto the seat. With his head held back, he fumbled in a pouch at his waist removing a slightly discolored cloth and brought it to his nose. "I forgot just how hard you hit. I'd better send for the vet before we go out. After your conversation earlier, your little project in the cells will need looking after."
"Nelva, please don't tell me you are following in the misguided footsteps advocating animal advocacy like your dear departed sister."
"Just thought you wanted Burke back in the City to continue your little chats. His breathing wasn't right when I dumped 'im back in his accommodations."
"It will wait," Urko waved a hand chasing a cloud of smoke away from his eyes. "If you think it is in my best interest, take care of it in the morning."
"Fine by me, Urko. There's a fine little pub with a lovely piece of ass that I'd like to get to before the crowds pick up."
"I want the little lice licker to be reminded of its place," Urko expouned as if the lietenant had not spoken. "I do want Burke alive, but tomorrow is soon enough to make him ready to travel. And tomorrow, we go home and have the peace and privacy to truly engage in, what did you call it? My little chats. Can't say I ever looked forward to it quite so much."
xXxXx
Waiting was incredibly tedious and tense. Alan kept his expression calm, his posture relaxed, but the unbroken concentration on the southern skyline hinted at his impatience. Chris paced between barrels stocked with cooking oil on the outer edges of the festival grounds. He grabbed at a pole and stirred whenever anyone passing happened to look their way. It was as close as they could get to the garrison without arousing the attention of the guards who roamed throughout the area.
Entering Strekum had been the proverbial 'piece of cake' with the crowds swelling as the sun neared the western horizon, the temperatures cooled, and the atmosphere hummed with anticipation for the raucous events promised. Both wore drab-colored hoods that dropped to cover their shoulders, the beacon of their light-colored hair masked. They kept their heads down, blue eyes lost in the shadows as they delivered their kindling to a human servant tasked with accepting and releasing the wood to the vendors, innkeepers, barkeeps and restauranters. His chimpanzee master wearing a vest colored by dancing flames distributed the high demand commodity needed to stoke the fires of dozens of sites ensuring the fair distribution of product to a voracious population. Virdon had to give a nod of approval to the planning for such an event. He also tucked away a strategy to use the near waist high piles of combustible material for future forays into festival environments to strike at the apes.
As expected, black-vested chimpanzees in deep maroon trousers roamed throughout the grounds both on horseback and on foot. The extra guards discovered in the hills likely made up the additional forces as the numbers of observed policing chimpanzees exceeded their intel regarding garrison and watchhouse assignments to this area. The critical, unknown number of troopers who remained inside the jail to supervise the prisoners forced Virdon to consider and hold in reserve ever-changing strategies on his approach.
Acting as the servant of an imaginary street vendor since no apes joined them on this mission, Jase had spent the last week in the city scoping out the layout of the town and the Festival grounds as well as the ebb and flow of the merchants, crowd movements and police monitoring of it all. The ox-drawn wagon he had arrived with in the town would be an essential part of their escape. Jase was currently maneuvering the cart, now filled with detritus to be utilized as camouflage, to the area he had identified for loading and concealing the objects they intended to steal. Turik and Dex would meet him there. Alan, Chris, and with a little sun-kissed luck, the freed Pete and Leman, would join them at the final mission site to execute the plan and they would depart before they were discovered.
After delivering the kindling, Virdon placed Chris at this location selected by Jase as an initiation point to watch for the signal from Oxton to begin the Strekum operation. A brief argument ensued as Chris insisted on staying with his father until Virdon went full Colonel and Father on his son forcing the younger man to agree and obey orders. Alan almost laughed and cried at the familiar look of defeat he remembered when his boy was ten. So many years lost. Alan warmly squeezed his arm before he had slipped through the streets to roam the vicinity and observe the garrison for about half an atseht before he was concerned his presence might be questioned. The garrison itself was lightly guarded with the regular coming and going of the troopers. Whether ordered by the Prefect or the garrison commander, based on the overheard grumblings of the incoming and excitement of the outgoing, all the troopers were given a chance to be a part of the celebration even if on duty. Alan heard nothing about the jail itself or its prisoners. Noting that many of the guards returned with a hint of ale consumption in their step, he hoped it gave them an advantage. Virdon would have used a more direct approach were unescorted humans allowed into the garrison walls but knew stealth was their only option.
Alan uttered, "I'm coming, Pete," aloud before he realized the words had escaped his lips when he turned away to rejoin Chris at the observation point. He continued to repeat the words as a calming mantra, although he kept it silent, as he watched and waited for Turik and Dex to signal that the mission countdown had been reached and the execution clock initiated.
An undercurrent of change from the noisy celebrations stretching through several of the hodge-podge blocks of an ape designed city grid that spilled into the main plaza of Strekum touched him first. The revelers continued to revel but the quest for guidance and barking commands in the mid-tones of chimpanzee voices was the first sign of alarm. The odor of VOCs, distinct from the mixture of smells from the food trucks and ape masses, was a welcome burn in Virdon's nostrils. As an Air Force officer in wartime, he had been a part of enough controlled as well as wildfire burns to recognize the difference. His eyes quickly scanned the evening haze left from the near absent sun and allowed himself a brief smile. The plume of gray smoke drifted upwards faintly visible against the huge orange and red swaths marking the horizon proclaiming the end of the day. The lighter color would be more pronounced as the blackness of a pre-industrial night lit only by the heavens wrapped itself around the city.
Based on the size of the plume, Turik and Dex should be joining Jase within minutes. Their travel time would be reduced by pushing the large handcart now filled with saddle blankets and ropes taken before stampeding the garrison horses and setting the Oxton stables ablaze, but the colonel calculated that in his planning. Virdon had given explicit orders to take the booty from within the stables leaving the remnants of those spoils dropped by Pete and Leman when they were captured and then ignored by apes and humans alike—even the apes should make the connection that the two were related but any delay in that deduction was precious time for the rebels to fade into the countryside when they finished. Alan had no doubts that Turik's firm hand would prevent any possible second-guessing by Dex. The boy had promised to follow orders, but he retained too much…exuberance…for Alan to trust him completely.
He closed his eyes for a moment and whispered, "I'm coming, Pete."
Alan turned to his son, announcing, "It's time."
A few feet away, Chris remained very still, his hands in a nervous half-clench, his lips slightly parted. Alan's heart slowed as a warm feeling rose in his chest. He recognized the struggle in his son. The look hadn't aged in the years since they were last together. As a boy, Chris had approached his dad in the same way with a desire, a need, to speak, usually to ask for something likely to be declined but he decided to ask anyway. Alan raised an eyebrow in inquiry that was answered by a quick shake of the hooded head. He had no time to wonder what request or comment Chris had swallowed and he shoved his memories aside.
Alan jerked his head and entered the dimming street. Chris's footfalls were lost in the ambient noise, but he knew that he followed. Heads down, they moved in the direction of the stone wall on the eastern side of the garrison gates. Virdon was pleased to see three armed troopers, one a sergeant, run through the north-western gate then headed south toward Oxton. They didn't give the humans a glance. The pair ignored the easy access of the still open gateway knowing any unaccompanied human would be challenged immediately, and continued along the wall where the gloom of the coming night hid them in its shadows.
Raising his clenched fist to indicate a halt, the elder Virdon spread his feet, bent his knees, and offered his hands, palm up, fingers clenched the moment Chris stopped next to him. His son placed hands on his father's shoulders, placed his foot in his hands and Alan lifted him up to a level that he could peer over the wall. Chris tapped his heel three times giving Virdon the signal to finish the lift. Chris pulled his stomach onto the foot-wide barrier then reached back with his right arm to grasp his father's lifted forearm. Using his feet to climb the wall, soon both Virdon men lay atop the wall. Not for the first time, Alan was grateful that although the apes built walls for security, they didn't build them high. They didn't expect any human to challenge them and with the apes being vertical climbers that could manage tall heights, they didn't see the need.
For a garrison based in a city as large as Strekum, it was eerily empty, although the rebels had planned around the demands of the Festival to draw the troopers into the streets. Chris lowered himself to the inner grounds first, As Alan joined him, his son instinctively grabbed at his father's torso to help him balance. His hip protesting the assault of the wall, Alan was silently grateful for the support. The knife hidden along his inner calf whisked into his hands as soon as he took a step away from Chris. The pistol remained hidden at the small of his back. The resort to gunfire was for emergencies only.
Multiple buildings were situated inside the walls and the place of their descent was protected from visibility. They knew the exterior layout. This building was a combination meeting and mess hall that was unused tonight with the extensive array of food vendors spread among the city. Alan took point edging along the wall until one eye could sneak a look at the open courtyard. At this point, Alan wished the gate had been closed as their movements would be visible from anyone passing in the street. The jail was positioned centrally in the array of structures along with the officer's offices, unfortunately none of their inquiries had provided a hint as to the interior layout of the building. Alan glanced to his right. He could make out one corner of the building housing the armory but was unable to determine if the smaller rear gate was opened. With the Festival pulling apes and humans alike into the celebration, there was far less foot traffic on that south-eastern side of the building which they would exploit.
Alan made a motion to move out, but his fist shot upwards for the halt as an urgent shout warned him just before a young trooper loped through the gates and went immediately into the jail. Within moments, he ran back out with three more apes forming a loose phalanx as they hurried out of the gates. He felt a satisfying release of the clench in his chest and without looking back, motioned for Chris to follow him. He saw the opportunity to slip in unnoticed as any sounds would be attributed to other troopers coming or going due to the disturbance from the south.
The door to the jail opened smoothly and silently with a sour waft of musty air filling their nostrils. Alan hated the connection, but it reminded him of entering a barn with stalls in need of mucking. Knowing the 'animals' held in this place, his heart beat a little faster. The long hall remained empty as Alan and Chris scooted along the wall slipping into an open interrogation room to listen and observe. As his father posted himself at the doorway, Chris took a few steps back to glance at the skewed table, his eye catching what appeared to be dried blood on the floor. He glanced upward but said nothing. Alan motioned for him to follow as they re-entered the hallway following the soft, irregular slap of what the older man correctly guessed was cards hitting a table.
The solitary chimpanzee leaned forward on a three-legged stool placing the oblong shaped pieces onto another stool positioned in front of him. Facing away from them, he was stationed about halfway deep in a room, more of a widened opening within the hall, with eight closed wooden doors, four on each side, lining the walkway before it narrowed and continued deeper into the building. Blue eyes met blue eyes, Alan's with an order for readiness, Chris accepting the order without question. The elder Virdon sheathed his knife before slipping the pistol from his belt and crept upon the guard, slamming the butt of the gun into the lower side of his skull. Chris caught the incapacitated ape before he fell fully to floor. Both waited in place, holding their breath, alert to any sign that they had been detected, and heard nothing.
"You've done this before?" Chris whispered with a half-grin.
"Does it make me look tough, son?" Alan smiled back, a single eyebrow raised.
"Oh, yeah, Dad. I'm impressed. I can brag about it to all my friends," the younger man said, his eyes dancing.
"In that case, let them know I've done it lots of times. Hundreds." Alan soaked in the smile flashed by his only son. Acceptance that death might wrap its cold fingers around his wrist—or his boy's, no man now, grown in an instant within the taunts of time—made his body thrum with a cocktail of nervousness, determination, fear, honor, anxiety, loyalty. Adrenaline filled him with energy which stoked the fires keeping his body lithe, free from the aches of age and injury, and his mind processing every touch, sight, and sound, and rapidly adjusting through every step that brought them closer to their target. Appreciation for the brief respite of humor shared with his child lost to him for so long renewed his hope that a future beyond this moment waited for them, for them all. Peace settled over Alan calming the brisk beat within his chest, quieting the drumming in his ears, warming the shivers snaking across his skin. They would share tomorrow. He knew it.
"There's the keys," Chris jerked his head toward a hook on the side wall near the opening where they entered. Alan tucked the gun back in place. He yanked a strip of material from one of the pouches at his waist and gagged the trooper before claiming the keys. He laid his ear to the door closest to the unconscious, and heavy, sentry before jangling it open. He grabbed the heels of the ape while Chris kept the torso, and they dropped him into the empty cell. Alan pulled his knife and ripped the blanket strewn on the floor into strips then gestured for Chris to tie both arms and legs of the trooper. He observed briefly, assuring himself that Chris applied tight knots to the wrists once he pulled the ape's arms behind his back. He nodded to his son then retrieved the keys from the lock and began the task of opening the remaining cells.
Always meticulous, Alan began with the first as they entered the room. Though tempted to call out, he chose not to risk any sound that might carry through the jail bringing the apes to investigate. It was empty and he moved to the second. As the torchlight filled the darkened cell, a man slowly lifted his head from the crook of his arm resting on raised knees. He squinted then straightened as the silhouetted figure of a human—a human, not an ape—entered the cell.
"Leman. Are you all right? Can you stand?" Alan was next to him in moments, his arm wrapped around his broad shoulders to begin a quick visual assessment of his own.
"Owl. Good to see you, my friend," the large man spoke with a cracked voice as he rolled forward to his knees to push himself up. "I'm fine. They've left me alone," he stated although the bruising on his face attested to the inaccuracy of that statement. As Virdon gripped the man's muscled arm to help as he struggled upwards, Alan accepted that a few bruises in an ape prison essentially was being left alone.
"Urko is here." Leman stared at him, trying to stay calm, but the quaver in his voice only magnified the cold that raced through Alan at all the implications of that name. "They took Jackal, more than once. He hasn't answered my taps since they brought him back a few atsehts ago. Next to me," Leman waved as Alan jumped to feet. Damn! His friend's worst nightmare. Urko had Pete. Again.
The rapid beat of his heart was back as Alan trotted to the next cell, his thoughts lost in a whirl of worry. I'm here, Pete. He demanded that his fumbling fingers obey, forcing the dull metal strip in his sweaty palm into the keyway. They took Jackal, more than once. He sucked back a curse when the mechanism didn't turn and tried again with the second of three keys on the ring. He hasn't answered my taps. When that one also failed and his hands began to shake, Alan laid his head against the wood door and commanded himself to stillness. I am here, Pete. Just give me another second.
Taking a deep breath and holding it, Alan slid the last key into place, and though there was a catch, he pressed with renewed strength and heard the click as the lock released. He yanked the door open, his eyes immediately scanning the semi-circle of light, the room only dimly lit by the four torches in wall sconces between the cell doors. His heart dropped, thinking it empty then his stomach clenched when his eyes searched the dark corners, settling on the shape tossed like a rag doll on the opposite side of the doorway.
"Pete," Alan hissed as he lowered one knee to the hard floor. His friend lay on his stomach though his body was slightly inclined toward the wall with one arm trapped awkwardly beneath him. The dark braid of his hair twisted below his neck but flipped back and the end disappeared in the fold of his elevated shoulder. His right arm curled above his head, abrasions marring his knuckles. Of course you fought back, you idiot. Gave them an excuse to hit you even harder. His legs were crookedly bent, unchanged from where he was obviously dropped or dragged. Once he assured himself that Pete was breathing, Alan began at his legs, running his hands along his body, determining the damage. When Alan found no obvious broken bones, he took the man by his left shoulder and rolled him onto his right thigh while his elevated left knee formed a brace holding his friend's upper torso.
The move elicited nothing from Pete. Not a whimper. Not a spasm. Nothing.
Pete's face was battered. A slight whistling of his shallow breaths moving through the congealed blood at his nose was strangely comforting. Alan tapped at his cheek and whispered his name trying to rouse him, but he remained unresponsive.
Virdon ran his free hand along Burke's now visible arm, along his chest, paused at the ugly finger imprints circling his neck, and grazed along the cuts and bruises he could see. He had no doubt the rest of him carried a whole new collection of hurts. Alan's thumb followed his jawline to his chin and gently turned the other side of his face in his direction. The dark head flopped, falling against Alan's shoulder.
"Oh my God!" A furrow cut from his temple across his head just above his ear. "That bastard!" A gasp tangled the rest of the curses rising in Alan's throat. Urko had promised years ago to inflict on his friend a rudimentary attempt at brain surgery intended to cut out Pete's fierce spirit. And because he waited to rescue him, Alan was too late to prevent the damage. He knew with certainty that even if Pete survived, he would never be Pete again. Several tortured breaths ripped through his throat before he realized the deep gash that scored across the length of Burke's head leaving a dark mat of blood in his black hair was the result of a blow from an object and not the scalpel promised by the gloating gorilla.
"Oh my God," Alan uttered this time in relief as he hugged him against his chest causing a weak cough, the first sign of life from his friend. "Pete?"
Alan continued to speak to him as he watched movement flit beneath his closed eyelids. "C'mon. Open your eyes. Pete."
Alan's consciousness set everything aside except for the man in his arms. It was as if the pair of them had fallen into a quiet haven protected from all the misery in the world and his only task was to bring Pete safely into that place. He began to recognize slight twitches as his friend tried to come to him.
"That's right. You're going to be fine. Open your eyes. Look at me. C'mon Pete. I know you can do it."
Burke's eyelids began the tiring labor to flutter open. A thin slit appeared allowing the brown eyes to find Virdon. The damaged tissue from the fists of his captors prevented him from opening them further. It didn't matter. It was enough. Virdon squeezed him in acknowledgement when the raspy words were dragged through barely moving lips.
"Al. You came. Knew ya would."
"What choice did I have? Saving your ass is what I do." Alan's anxious heart slowed at the low harrumph that followed. Once again, his friend astounded him with his resilience.
"We were set up." Though weak, the words came more easily as Pete talked, or maybe, Alan thought, he wanted, needed, to make sure the rest of them were kept safe and intended that the commander heard his report. "Didn't see 'em when I checked before we went in. Surrounded us as we were leavin'. Must have been waitin' out aways in the woods for a signal of some kind. Ten of 'em. Knew we'd be there and when. Mission might be compromised, too. But I didn't tell 'em anything. Swear."
"King Kong, huh?"
Soft chuckle. "Not even tha' much."
"You let me take care of the mission," Alan stated firmly. Burke allowed a barely perceptible nod. The bubble which Alan had built around them began to fade and footsteps behind him brought the walls of the cell back into focus. A quick look over his shoulder showed Chris slipping about halfway across the dingy room, his arms crossed at his chest, a worried scowl on his face.
"Leman ok?" Pete's raspy voice asked. Chris gave a perfunctory nod.
"He's fine, Pe…Jackal." Turning back to Pete, Alan found the dark eyes were locked on his face. Burke didn't seem aware of anyone else. Alan gave a familiar, reassuring half-grin. "A few bruises. He's fine. Seems they made you the man of the hour." Another nod. Several seconds passed before Pete took a measured breath. He opened his eyes as far as he could and focused all his energy on Alan's face.
"Al, I was waitin' for ya to get here. Needed to say good-bye."
"Pete, I'm taking you out of here."
"S'alright. Better this way. You deserve a fresh start. You and Chris."
"Pete, don't talk. Save your energy. We need to go before the guards find us."
He chuckled, a gurgling sound. Alan immediately realized he had developed congestion over the last few days, or worse, he might have damage to his lungs. "Go, Alan. Start a new life. Tha one with your son. Tha one you missed."
"We're going…. Chris grab that blanket." Virdon jerked his head toward the thin, stained covering.
Chris made no attempt to respond to the order, instead trying to see over his father. His view of Burke gave him no more than his legs to judge his condition. Many of the man's words were garbled and he was hoping to at least attempt to read his lips. He saw some movement and thought his adversary was lifting his arm.
"Al, s'alright," Pete feebly patted his friend's broad chest then gripped at the low-cut neckline of his home-spun shirt to hold onto him. His words were spoken in small stages before petering out between shallow inhalations. "With Urko on our backs, …always knew it'd …come to this. I … I never got away from him… Not really… And he…he busted … somethin'…somethin' important… this time. Really sucks it was him… I wanted …wanted to be the one to frag his fuckin' ass, …not th'other way around."
"Pete, I'm getting you outta this…."
"Nah, not this time. Don't even think he meant to," Pete coughed, his face unable to shield Alan from the misery he felt as his body collapsed from the inside out. He found some inner strength as he forced the words. Although increasingly slipping into a whisper, he spoke more clearly. "He wanted ta drag it out like before. You know Urko. Takes too much joy in the sufferin' part. S'ok though. I'd rather it end this way. Easier on you. With both me an' Chris around, you'd have to choose. Chris couldn't have it any other way. Hell, after wha'he did, I ain't that' fuckin' noble an' wouldn't wanna be 'round him either. I know it. Chris knows it. Eventually, you'd get there, too. Knowin' it and havin' ta choose.
"It hurt too much the first time back in Chubla." A wave of guilt coursed through Alan at the simple words, spoken so steadily, without blame, by his friend as he remembered the pain Pete had projected in those eyes of his that revealed far more than his words would ever allow when Alan tried to push him away when they finally made the so-called safety of the north. Tried to justify it would be best if they were no longer together. Tried to sever their friendship claiming it was best for both of them. Sharp pains gripped at Alan's constricting throat as Pete continued his struggle to speak.
"You not wantin' me around. You wantin' me ta leave. Fuckin' kick in tha gut. And now, knowin' ya need me ta go for the sake of your family, but not wantin' to say it…Better like this."
"Pete," Alan spoke firmly despite the growing dread that wanted to strangle him, "there's nothing "better" about this. Pete, it's you and me. Just the way it's been for all these years. And I'm getting you out of here if I have to strap you on my back to get us home. You're going to hang on until I get you to Galen and Zana." He felt a tension in the room as Chris stiffened behind him. He was vaguely aware he had moved a few steps closer. "My son understands that you are a part of my life. You reminded me of that a long time ago and I never forgot. You and me. Always. All the other shit, we'll work it out."
Pete's weak grin acknowledged Alan's unusual use of his more common vernacular, but at least he knew Virdon was listening to him. It felt really good knowing how much he still cared about him. "You're my friend, Al. I never had many. I'd rather you miss me than come to hate me." The words were drifting away along with the flutter of Pete's focus.
A desperate gasp broke Alan's attention causing him to twist his head toward the cell door. Leman. The huge man leaned with one hand against the frame, the other at his mouth. The flicker of the torchlight from the hallway allowed him a glimpse of Chris's features that suddenly threw the colonel back to the war fields of Nigeria where the cloying smell of blood, urine and feces followed as adult and child alike spun like marionettes from the shrapnel and tracer bullets shredding their flesh. The eyes of the dying had haunted him, but it was that look in the eyes of soldiers who reveled in the atrocities of that war that rent his soul in two. Euphoria. There was no other word. No! It was just the light, the trick of the light from the torches cascading into the darkness. Never in the eyes of his boy. His child. Never!
Alan blinked and the look was gone. It was never there! Chris finally obeyed his previous command, turning his face away as he leaned down to retrieve the tattered blanket clumped against the side wall of the cell.
Alan jerked back and pulled Pete closer. "Pete. I'm not letting you go." His voice broke. He didn't even try to blame the sweat that burst across his skin for the tears brimming in his eyes.
Pete's eyes had closed, and Alan felt a thump across his leg as Burke's hand released his shirt and his arm fell. One eye opened, the other trapped within the blackened, swollen tissue although Alan could see Pete's struggling attempt to meet his gaze.
"It…was…an honor…sir."
A deep release of air expelled through Pete's mouth as his head fell back over Alan's arm. His limp body dropped like the weight of a lifetime into his arms. Alan's mouth worked hopelessly as the room spun away any sounds he might have made. He grasped Pete against his chest as his shoulders slumped and spasmodic shivers scurried along his back. He pulled his friend in tighter; he couldn't hold him strongly enough. And then he froze. The world cracked, then splintered, falling like ice crystals into his face, down his collar, biting into his flesh. Everything stopped. And then, out of necessity, it started again.
"Dad." A hand touched his shoulder, now still, the shakes gone. Maybe because of the ice that encased him, he heard a warmth in that call. But not of concern. It was something else he didn't have the time to consider. "Dad, we have to go. The others will be here by now." The mission. That's what he heard. The need to complete the mission. That was it. Had to be.
Alan laid Pete's body to the floor and straightened his legs before crossing his arms against his chest. He didn't need to close his eyes. They had slipped away from him as Pete uttered his final words to him. Virdon spun on one knee to face the two others in the cell.
Chris crossed his arms across his chest, his left hand formed into a fist that he pressed against his mouth, his thumbnail gripped in his teeth. The fetid stench of the blanket draped over his arm helped him hide the joyous bubbling that raced through his limbs. His shoulders shook, too, with the emotions that he barely contained. Years of desire, heartache, and pain that few understood tumbled inside him. Why was it that Professor Hasslein could see what needed to be done but not his own mother? Gina? Chris needed to save his father. It was the driving force of everything in his life. His failure to find him, to bring him home nearly crushed him until something so obvious gave him purpose once more. The traitor Burke was the root cause of all that nearly destroyed the Virdon family. And his father remained under his hold. But no more. No more! He had saved his father after all. He hoped his father would one day see how worthwhile it had been.
While Chris held himself stiff with barely contained effort, Leman slumped against the door with nothing left to move him. The shaggy, red head was down but Alan suspected the pain in the man's eyes was more than he could bear, and he was relieved he was spared the accusation that Alan should have done more to save Jackal. Pete.
Alan stood and wiped his face leaving a cool mask behind.
"I'm sorry, Dad, I mean, Owl. I know you were close, but we have to get out of here." He offered the blanket almost as a token of consolation.
The elder Virdon gave a curt nod. He accepted the rough hewn cloth, shook it to remove the dirt, and returned to Burke's side and draped it loosely over his face, tucking it around him.
"Leman." Alan's voice revealed nothing but the tone of a commander in a hot zone. The red head glanced up. Like Owl, Leman's face no longer gave much away. He was battle scarred and knew the time for grief would come later. "Go get the blanket out of your cell. Hurry. We don't have much time." The man hesitated but remembered his duty and obeyed.
Alan slipped his arms beneath Pete's knees and shoulders and fought the screams of his back and hip as he stood. He moved with a surety he didn't feel but accepted his decision without any further debate.
Chris felt the stirrings of panic. "Dad, we have to get out of here. Complete the mission and get away." Alan started toward the door even as Chris moved in front to block him. "Didn't I hear Leman say that Chief Urko was here? We were going to be on the run dodging ape pursuit as it is. We don't need Urko hell bent on finding Burke if he thinks he's escaped." Chris heard the words gushing out of his mouth and seeing the hardening of his father's blue eyes, knew he was making a mess of it. But Urko was here, and it was clear that Urko wanted Burke—and probably his father, too and that he couldn't allow. And if he understood what he thought he heard, the last thing Burke wanted was for Urko to have any control over him. Suddenly, Chris wanted Urko to have Burke and more power to him for whatever he did with his sorry remains. The final justice. Chris could have his due and feel placated at long last. Hasslein would have liked that, too. A small thank you gift for all the professor had done for him. He fought against his lip as it tugged upwards at the thought and forced a look of contrition, and maybe a little sorrow, in its place.
"The risk is too great. Dad, there's nothing more Urko can do to him but a lot he can do to the rest of us."
The disappointment that clouded his father's face was brief, but it cut through Chris as if he had drawn blood.
"We don't leave people behind, Chris. Urko is not going to touch him again." Alan took another step forward and his son dropped his head and stepped aside to let him pass. Leman re-entered the area as Alan neared the door. Chris kept his back toward them as his father's words washed over him. "Drape the blanket across your arms. Yes, like that. Good. Now take him."
Chris turned to see Alan place Burke into the large man's outstretched arms over the bottom blanket. Alan then tucked the coverings around the body. Chris swallowed back the bile at the reverence rising in the other man's countenance, his entire frame proclaiming his acceptance of an honored duty being bestowed upon him. Damn, he hated how easily Burke managed to trick people into treating him as someone who deserved respect. Anger threatened to challenge his earlier pleasure, but Chris tucked it away. He would finally be done with Burle soon enough.
"Chris, make sure the way is clear. We'll be right behind you."
The younger man said nothing but turned sideways to slip past the disturbing tabloid of his father, Leman, and the corpse they couldn't seem to part with into the open hallway. Rather than seek out an unknown, alternative path, he returned the way they had come in. He glanced back to see his father leaning into Leman, his hand resting solemnly over Burke's chest, and giving instructions. He fought to keep any expression from his face but the burn in his eyes had nothing to do with compassion. He spit into the corner before he could restrain himself, turned and slunk along the hallway almost hoping to find an ape to bash.
For both Virdons, the rest of the mission passed in a blur but was conducted with laser focus.
Chris felt alive, truly alive, a man with his life as his own for the first time since…since he was a ten-year-old boy pulled from his science classroom and told that his father's ship was lost. Every movement, every sound, every touch was vivid, bright, exhilarating. They skimmed through the last gasps of dusk before night settled over them in a protective shield. Entering the armory required the breaking of a lock which brought a lone trooper to investigate. His pent-up anger was released as he jumped the chimpanzee from behind knocking him senseless. He needed his father's help to drag the hapless ape inside holding a curse to himself that instead of helping, the stronger Leman was allowed to retain his bundle of flesh while the commander nodded with his head as they placed the trooper behind a stand of rifles. Chris bound him with a sense of perverse pleasure, making the leather strips tight enough to ensure the circulation was compromised and the captive would know pain.
He turned away rummaging through the array of weapons to distract him as his father led Leman into an enclosed workroom that appeared to be used to toss and then repair broken gear. The squeal of the bolt at the back gate allowed Turik, Jase and Dex, their arms filled with saddle blankets and rope, to rush through with unbridled anticipation but also summoned a second ape, a sergeant this time. Dex attacked with the same glee Chris had felt and he joined the younger man in depositing, then securing, the ape with his comrade.
As the men entered the armory, Jase disrupted the flow when he eyed Owl and asked, "Jackal? Leman?" Turik and Dex waited expectantly just behind him.
"We have them."
Alan—Owl— said no more about the missing men and the firm confidence in his deep voice assured that the three did not question him further. The colonel began to point to the weapons he wanted. They moved like a well-trained team under his father's leadership snapping orders as they tossed rifles and pistols into the stable blankets, tying them with the pilfered rope. The bundles were laid with care into the waiting transport. Bayonets, knives, bandoliers, and crates of ammunition were split between the hand pulled cart and ox driven wagon. The cart was filled first then covered with the remains of peeled fruit rinds Jase had been gathering and placed in the wagon. The sturdy buckboard bore the bulk of the procured weapons which would arm the rebels, mainly human but a few apes, from the different sites that pulled these men into the operation. Most of the camouflaging scraps were gathered back from the cart and tossed into wagon over the weapons.
Chris strode with a resolution matching the others as they completed their work. Quick head nods as they passed one another back and forth through the gate announced that he had been accepted into their ranks. The young Virdon welcomed their approval, not because he felt anything approaching interest in their cause but because it would allow him to move smoothly into his father's world and fill the vacuum left in his life once held by the irksome Burke. It bothered him that Alan had kept Jackal's demise unspoken but he knew he must allow the commander to make that announcement to these men or all his recent gains would be lost. Over the two decades he had been trapped in this world, the young Virdon had learned the important lesson of patience. And he learned the value of a lie and that the one told by your face was as important as the one spoken by your lips. As he worked, he decided that the wait was good. It gave him time to privately savor the thought, hold it next to him, let it wash through him filling him with more happiness than he had known for years, otherwise he might just break out in spontaneous laughter when he finally heard the words aloud, 'Burke is dead.'
As for the other Virdon, Alan felt as if he was watching himself. A man removed from the one who walked in his skin. He saw himself secure the armory, secrete Leman and Pete in the small room away from view, open the gate, direct the men, overcome the apes, and capture the valuable equipment that had brought them here. But oh my God, what a cost! The sound of a ticking clock reverberated between his ears, the incessant bell chimes counting down with an urgency that threatened to have him burst through the movie screen that he was watching to scream the show was over and it was time to get out. For all his refusal to think, his mind remained sharp absorbing every detail as they worked to complete the mission. The goddamn fucking mission. Colonel Virdon had a responsibility to complete the mission, and he would not fail.
As the final load was being secured in the large wagon, Alan inspected the ox harnessed in the traces, checking her hooves, running his hands along her legs, her back and stomach, checking the tack, assuring himself that she was fit and ready to travel the miles demanded of her. He finally stopped to stroke the neck of the good-natured ox Pete had christened as Daphne. Neither apes nor humans tended to name their animals, but his dark-haired friend announced that if he was going to tend to beasts including feeding, brushing, and cleaning up their shit, they needed a name, so they fully understood he was cursing at them. Now was not time to think. Especially of Pete. Alan gently rubbed the soft spot along her ear as he rested his head near her cheek, her slow-moving jaw as she chewed her cud rocking him gently.
Gradually, he allowed his other senses to find life again. The smell of smoke drifted with the faint breeze that also carried distant shouts, a firm reminder that the fire would soon be contained and the apes free to begin their hunt. Music, at least what the apes considered music, in the form of percussion beats, metallic triangle and bells, and single note horns sang with the continued celebrations of the town. The stridulations of thousands of insects surrounding them made their own music.
"Owl. It's done," Jase said quietly as he stopped nearby, his hand on the animal's back. Alan took a deep breath of the bovine's hair then took a step away and took another of the hot air of summer that weighed them down despite the absence of the sun. He looked past Jase at the three men spread behind him, all watching, waiting for his instructions. It was just as well their faces were lost in the shadows. He couldn't look at any of their eyes and continue. He wasn't sure how he could go on, but the words came out because it was expected.
"Jase, move out. You're on your own but you know the territory as well as anyone and who you can trust along the way." He tapped the man's shoulder as he walked past him and to his credit, Jase immediately began to prepare Daphne to leave.
"Turik," Alan rapped at the pull cart as he headed toward the open gate, "you know where to go. Chris, go with him. Cover the tracks." Alan felt the tension in his son as he strolled past him, unable to meet his gaze and unwilling to hear his protests. "Once you reach the crossroad shrine, wait for me. Turik, you complete the delivery as planned."
"Dex," Alan snared the boy's arm and pulled him back into the garrison, "you are with me." The youngster remained silent although he heard a muffled sound from his son followed by a muted, "Do as yer told," reprimand from Turik as the elder Virdon pulled the gate to.
The next few minutes ticked by in agonizing slowness as an empty Alan led Leman from the armory. He had to shake the boy by his shirt with a demanding reminder about his duty to keep his emotions in check. Virdon gave Leman and Dex their orders, then showed a modicum of sense by exiting through the gate and allowing the youngest to bolt the gate shut and scale the wall to drop next to him on the ground. The wagon and the cart should be nearing the city limits and would soon follow their assigned trails along routes designed to fool the expected pursuit. Darkness filled his eyes before it covered Leman and Dex's retreating backs, shoulders hunched by the wrapped bundle they carried.
Alan fell back against the stone wall. He stood like a dead man hearing the raspy words Pete was desperate for him to hear. You'd have to choose. He lifted his stinging eyes toward the stars where he usually found peace but now, he found a tumble of thoughts. The memory from a year ago of the torture Pete had endured, the struggle to keep him alive, the surprise when Pete brought Chris to him and the shock to discover it had been his son who could perform that heinous act. Seeing his son, touching him, holding him tight may not have brought him back the life he wanted, the one stripped from him by madness, but it gave him a precious gift, nonetheless. Chris had joined him, and he would become a part of what Alan and Pete had built for themselves. And suddenly, that replacement dream was being wrenched away as his best friend clung to life until he said what he needed to say and then lay limp in his arms. The wretchedness he felt as the agony of that moment was nothing compared to the anguish that rocked him at the glimpse of malevolent glee in Chris's eyes. Turning away, he had dragged Pete back to him, begging for another truth to believe in.
You'd have to choose.
"You were right, Pete," he whispered to the night. "I had to choose."
His shoulders had begun to shake when he felt Pete's warm breath against his cheek. Faint…but there, a second time. Not imagined. He wanted to cry out but knew he had to keep Pete alive. That meant letting Chris think him dead.
Alan dropped his eyes and pictured Leman and Dex carrying his friend toward a place of danger but to the only one he knew who could give Pete the care he needed. He had faith. Sometimes it was all he had. He pushed himself away from the wall and became the subservient human following the cart that would be winding along a westerly road toward the Forbidden Zone. He did what Alan Virdon always did. He fulfilled his duty. His part of this mission was complete.
His first duty was to protect. Protect his friend. He had done what he thought best.
You'd have to choose.
Now he had to save his son.
Epilogue
Movement.
That was something others did. Sometimes he stayed with the pain as he was moved—arms lifted, body shifted. Often times not. The pain drove him into oblivion, and he didn't mind. Colors drifted through his vision—slits at first but widened as the swelling of his face eased. The cool, wet rags they lay upon his eyes, his cheeks, it helped.
He coughed. But that was reflex, wasn't it? Hardly his choice because the tearing through his chest was reminder enough to never do that.
"Careful, boy!" a deep voice ground out. "Yer gonna choke 'im to death before we git there."
"But Owl said to give him something to drink regular. Made me swear not to forget."
"Keep his shoulder up, chin down. Tea goes down easier that way."
He coughed up as much as he drank but the warmth soothed its way along his inner core offsetting the bitter taste. He couldn't have stopped them from pouring it into his mouth anyway.
The movement was a lumbering walk at first, being carried, his ear pressed against a wide chest, a steady heartbeat giving him comfort, but then something changed. He was laid on a bed of hay, the straw poking at his back through the thin blanket. The jarring of the ruts in the road brought another kind of pain.
He heard the voices. They talked as they moved him. An ox lowed. A wagon creaked. He heard all those things, but he never heard the sound he was desperate to hear. Alan.
When he was carried into the water, the agony made him scream. But he didn't control that either. Couldn't have stopped it if he tried. And he did try, begging it to stop but those pleas never formed on his lips. That required him to move.
"We gotta do this, Jack," the deep voice said. "Owl will have our hides if we don't git ya there safe and we gotta wash these wounds before the new wraps go on." The texture of his hands was rough, but his touch gentle. And when they let him float in the water for a spell, it helped.
"Leman, he's got so many scars. And that black tracing on his collarbones, who would do such a thing?" The young voice was troubled.
"Every mark on Jackal is a mark he took fer us. He'd never speaks about it, but don't ya never forget what ya seen, Dex."
The thin arms that held him in the water tightened. "But people should know what he has done. How hard he fights for 'em."
He could feel the rumble in the chest of the larger man who also held him, letting the water soothe his hurts. His eyes cracked open. They were in the middle of a pond. He could see glimmers of a broad face although his eyes stung from the sunlight. The man was staring down at him, a smile on his healing split lip. "Humans are startin' to hear what Jackal's been tellin' 'em. We aren't animals. We aren't beasts. And we don't hafta live under the apes forever."
He panicked when the Leman dipped him under the water immersing his face. His heart raced and he couldn't breathe. But still, he couldn't move. The coarse fingers wiped the water away gently when he brought him back to the surface. "I'm sorry, Jack. We gotta wash your face. All that jostling in the wagon, ya musta bit your lips or something. Made yer mouth bleed fresh. And we gotta clean the wounds 'afor we put new creams on. You taught us that yerself. You're startin' to look more like yerself again after that bastard Urko made a mess a'things."
Oh, Leman you don't know the half of it.
"He's starting to shiver," Dex warned.
"I feel it, too. Let's git 'im to th'fire. Git some broth into 'im after we put on the creams from that healer ya found and rewrap the bandages. I don't like tha sound of his breathin' neither."
He wished he could move. He would have stayed floating in the water longer. But keeping his face dry. He hated that he still felt the need to do that, keep water off his face. Damn you, Urko.
He passed out for a while once they laid him on the ground to finish the treatments. Too much movement. Too much pain. Just too much. He heard them again later. Dark now but he felt warm. The fire was to his right. Blankets had him tucked in like he was in swaddling. It helped.
"Why didn't Owl come with us?" Dex wanted to know. "I know they're close. And he was worried about him."
Pete tensed; his ear bent toward the sounds.
"Not for us to know, Dex. They gotta keep secrets ta stay alive. Jackal an' Owl, they'll say what needs to be said an. you an' me will do it."
"I will do it, Leman. Whatever he wants. I'll do it. I promised."
The voices continued to talk but he drifted away. Gray turned to black behind his closed eyes as one troubled thought stabbed a different kind of pain through his chest and all movement stopped for a time.
Al, why didn't you come with me?
To Be Continued
Summary
Part 2 of the Series Scars. A year has passed since Chris Virdon captured and tortured Pete Burke in revenge for his father's murder only to discover he was tricked, and his father lived, when Alan Virdon came to his friend's rescue. Now Pete has received word: Chris wants to see Alan.
Notes
The wonderful Athaia, who is writing a monumental reboot of the PotA TV series, allowed me to spend a little time in her creation generating this tale.
The first story, "We All Got Scars" was intended to be a one-off, but several folks cajoled and whined enough that a sequel came to life. It is not absolutely essential to read the first but strongly recommended.
Reading Athaia's Part One of Planet of the Apes Hunted – Marooned on the Planet of the Apes will further enrich the experience. Reading all of Athaia's related works will remind you why fan fiction is a wondrous thing.
As this story is published, Athaia has completed the twelve-story arc of Hunted and has begun Exiled with the heart-stopping tale, "The Dark God" and the small-town drama, "The Fraud". I point this out because this humble tale represents an AU of that engaging AU. These events are not considered an accurate depiction of the experiences of Burke, Virdon, Galen and Zana in Athaia's world but simply this fan's foray into a "what if" situation. Whenever possible, I did stay true to the original works.
End Notes
From Athaia: Pllllleeeeaaassseeee don't kill Chris!
Okay, she wasn't that bad, but she did force me to see that I was planning on an easy out and did indeed plan to kill Chris. Now it was going to be a redeeming end but an end, nonetheless. And a bit of a clichéd, lazy cheat as far as writing goes.
Athaia should be happy – Chris survived, and the father/son dynamic must be further explored in the final story of the trilogy.
Not sure who will survive Urko's fury when he discovers Burke is gone or if his escorts and Burke can survive the inevitable hunt, but such is the nature of cliffhanger ending—we must wait and see.
Thanks for reading. Comments and critiques are appreciated.
And go read Athaia's complete saga. It is epic!
