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

31

They put up their tents quickly, before dark, and gathered wood for a fire. The six of them sat together to eat, but it was clear that Foster, Kemp, and Carver considered themselves a group within the group.

From up the canyon, they could hear distant ape noises—the occasional call, and as dark fell a long series of smashing noises.

“Listen to that,” Kemp said.

“Damn, take a look. See that glow?” Carver said, pointing into the darkness. “The apes have fire.”

“They have our guns, too,” Kemp said. “Don’t know about you, but I am not getting any sleep tonight.”

Malcolm heard all this while he sat in front of his tent, studying schematic diagrams of the dam. Dreyfus had helped him find them in a room full of filing cabinets down in the basement of San Francisco City Hall. Nobody had bothered to loot it. He’d looked at them before, but now he was making a real study of the wiring in the pump house, and how it connected to the transmission grid.

He noticed Ellie sitting next to him, but was so deeply engrossed in the schematics that he didn’t hear what she said at first. She nudged him.

“You have to eat,” she repeated.

“In a sec,” Malcolm said.

She waited until he picked up the corner of a page, then said, “That was brave. What you did today.”

Malcolm nodded, registering the compliment and appreciating it, but not wanting to break his concentration on learning the dam schematics.

“You’re so hard on yourself,” she went on. “I know everyone’s depending on you, but—”

He looked up from the drawings.

“I don’t care about any of that,” he said, more sharply than he’d intended. “Any of it. I just care about him. He’s the only reason I’m doing this.”

Alexander sat near the three mechanics, intent on whatever he was drawing in his sketchbook. Whatever happened between human and ape, Malcolm reflected, he would always give Caesar the benefit of the doubt for returning Alexander’s satchel. The boy identified with his art. He needed it. Malcolm wondered if Caesar had understood that, or if the satchel was the item that presented itself as a way to make a good-faith gesture.

“There were things he saw that no kid should ever have to see,” Malcolm said. “There’s no way I’m ever letting us go back to that.”

“You’re not the only one responsible for everyone’s well-being,” she said. He felt her hand brush down the back of his head and come to rest on his nape. He looked away from Alexander, and toward her. It might have been the end of the world, but there were things to be thankful for.

Malcolm leaned into her.

“I don’t mean I’m not doing it for you, too,” Malcolm said, probably way too late.

“I know what you mean,” Ellie said. “You know I’ve been trying to get closer to him. But he…”

“It’s not you. He has a hard time trusting people.”

Ellie nodded, understanding.

“I can’t say I blame him.”

“Let’s join up with the group,” Malcolm said. “Make sure everyone’s on the same page.”

“You know the scariest thing about them?” Foster was saying. “They don’t need power, lights, heat… nothing. That’s their advantage. That’s what makes them stronger.”

Malcolm privately thought this was bullshit. Humans didn’t need any of those things, either. They wanted them, they benefited from them, but Homo sapiens had existed for a long time before electricity.

As they approached the three men, an ape called through the trees, answered a moment later by another, quite a bit closer. Malcolm had a paranoid moment, wondering if Caesar was allowing humans to fix the dam so he could use the power himself…

“Maybe one of us should stand guard?” Kemp suggested.

“With what?” Foster asked. “They took our guns.”

“If they wanted to kill us, we’d be dead already,” Malcolm said, as he and Ellie joined the group at the fire. He leaned over to see what Alexander was drawing—it was a portrait of Caesar on horseback.

Interesting, Malcolm thought. That’s one charismatic chimpanzee. In the picture, Caesar looked fierce and also noble, posed the way a medieval artist might have staged a painting of a knight on horseback. Caesar as crusading knight, Malcolm thought. Only drawn graphic-novel style. Not manga—that wasn’t Alexander’s thing, really—but more heroic and gritty. Malcolm considered Alexander a pretty talented artist. Too bad he lived in a world where art was a complete luxury.

“Maybe they’re just taking their time,” Carver offered. “They already wiped out most of the planet.”

“Oh, come on.” Ellie rolled her eyes.

“What?”

She looked at Carver like she couldn’t believe she actually had to spell out what she was about to spell out. “You can’t honestly blame the apes.”

“Who the hell else am I gonna blame? It was the Simian Flu. Si-mi-an.”

“The virus was engineered by scientists, in a lab,” Ellie said. “The chimps had no say in the matter—”

Carver snorted. “Spare me the hippie-dippy bullshit, okay? You’re telling me you don’t get sick to your stomach at the sight of them?” Seeing Ellie’s scorn, he narrowed his eyes and took another shot. “Didn’t you have a little girl? How’d she die?”

Ellie’s face went slack from shock and then closed off. Boom, just like she was made of stone. Alexander watched it happen, and looked from her to Malcolm.

“That’s enough, Carver,” Malcolm said.

Apparently it wasn’t, though, because Carver looked him straight in the eye and continued.

“Or your wife, for that matter.”

Malcolm knew he wasn’t going to get the better of Carver in a fight. But he also knew he couldn’t back down in front of everyone. On top of that, he wanted Carver to know he wouldn’t back down. But before he could say anything that would escalate the situation, Foster jumped in.

“Carver, you better shut your mouth before I beat the shit out of you,” he said. “I mean, what the fuck? Talking about people’s kids and wives?”

Carver looked from Foster to Kemp, who shook his head.

“I’m with them, man,” Kemp said. “What’s your problem?”

Malcolm kept glaring at Carver. At this point he was hoping the man would come after him. Now that he knew he had Foster and Kemp on his side.

Carver seemed to know it, too. He turned down the aggression a notch.

“I’m just saying…” He broke off and stood up. “Yeah, okay, all right. I’m the asshole.” Shaking his head, he walked away to the tent he was sharing with the other two. In his wake was an awkward silence.

“Carver doesn’t like the apes too much,” Foster said. It was obvious, but Malcolm appreciated the effort to break the ice.

“Yeah,” Malcolm said. “I got that impression.” He leaned over to Ellie. “You all right?

Ellie nodded. “I’m fine.”

Foster poked at the fire. Everyone paused as the hooting of a pair of apes carried down the canyon.

“Pretty damn spooky, you have to admit,” he said.

“No argument here,” Malcolm said.

Alexander looked up from his drawing.

“I think they’re amazing. I mean, dangerous, yeah, but think about it. Apes who can talk? They escape the city and spend ten years hiding in the mountains? Pretty badass.”

It was as many words as he had spoken in the last two days.

“Don’t say that when Carver’s around,” Kemp said. They all laughed, except Ellie. She was looking at Alexander, and Malcolm wondered if when she saw him she also saw the ghost of what her daughter would have become.