Текст книги "Escape from the Planet of the Apes"

Автор книги: Jerry Pournelle

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 10 страниц)

NINETEEN

Lewis Dixon knelt beside the white-coated body. There was no pulse at all. He motioned for a blanket, then looked up to Victor Hasslein who stood in the doorway. “Dead,” Lewis said. His voice was incredulous.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hasslein said.

“Sure you are,” Lewis said. He covered the dead orderly and stood. “Sure.”

“I really am. I don’t know why your opinion is important to me, Dr. Dixon, since it is obvious that you will never think well of me, but I find myself trying to convince you that I’m not a monster thirsting for innocent blood.”

“You want the chimpanzees dead. You’ll use this as an excuse to hunt them down.”

“Certainly. They are a threat to humanity, to civilization, to science, to everything I hold dear, and they must be destroyed. I wish they were evil. It would make this easier.” Hasslein waited until the attendants had finished covering Tommy, then turned away. “Even this, I expect, was an accident; but it will make things easier.” He walked rapidly to his office and began telephoning. Within minutes there were sirens throughout Camp Pendleton, and jeeps of armed men drove rapidly through and around the camp grounds.

Hasslein hesitated before making the next telephone call. As he stared at the phone, Lewis Dixon came into his office. Hasslein looked up with a frown. “Yes?”

“What orders did you give them?” Lewis demanded. “Are they going to shoot on sight?”

“I merely told the Admiral that the prisoners had escaped, and that they had killed one of his Marines doing so.”

“Jesus! That’ll make the others trigger-happy . . .”

“Possibly. I hope so,” Hasslein said. “I can admit that to you. Dixon, don’t you care? In future times, another Shakespeare, another Edison, another Einstein, may be crawling on all fours, unable to speak, a brute with no culture doomed to a life of misery—and all because of these apes. Can’t you understand it’s them or us?”

“Even if I believed that, I couldn’t condone killing them out of hand.”

“No. I suppose not.” Hasslein lifted the telephone. “General Brody, please. If you’ll excuse me, Dr. Dixon, I must report to the president.” He waited until Lewis had gone, then lit a cigarette. They took a long time getting Brody on the phone, and it took even longer for Hasslein to explain what had happened.

“What orders do the Marines have?” Brody demanded.

“To recapture them, of course—”

“Yeah. Recapture them, but they know these monkeys have killed one of their buddies. They won’t do it without damned strong orders. You’ll see that they get those orders, Hasslein. We want those chimps alive. Is that understood?”

“I thought you were in agreement with me, General,” Hasslein protested.

“What’s that got to do with it?” Brody demanded. “The president’s going to insist on the same damned thing. Those apes are to be recaptured, alive, and to hell with what they’ve done or haven’t done. Have you got that? I’ve seen the Harris poll on those monkeys, Hasslein. You shoot them down out of hand and you’ll make a political crisis. The people think of those apes as human. Every science type in the country wants an interview with ’em. And so on. I want them back alive, Hasslein, and so will the boss. You got that?”

“Yes, General.”

“I’ll make bloody sure of it, Victor. I’m calling Admiral Jardin right now. Meanwhile, you issue the proper orders. And call me if anything new happens.”

They watched the cars full of soldiers race back and forth on the road, and felt increasing horror. Zira moaned again, and finally Cornelius could not stand it any longer.

“I’m going to go get help,” he said. “I’ll find Lewis.”

“No . . . please.” She looked around their small hollow. Chaparral grew thick on all sides, so that they were invisible from the road.

“Look, I only lost my temper with that boy. I hurt him, but he’ll be all right. I owe him an apology. I’ve felt miserable ever since I struck him—and it wasn’t his fault. We’ve got to go back, we’ve got to have help.”

“I can walk,” Zira said. “Or I can have the baby here. We’ll be—”

“No.” Cornelius was firm. “They may punish us, but at least the baby will be delivered with proper care. I’m going to get help. You wait here.” Before she could protest, he scrambled down the hill toward the lower loop of the road.

There were soldiers there. They had a barrier across the road, and they carried rifles. Cornelius waited, afraid, hoping to see someone he recognized. Finally a car came, its lights showing the dozen Marines clearly. One of them came forward and shined a light into the car.

“Miss, I’m afraid this road’s closed,” the soldier said.

“I am Dr. Branton,” she said. “Captain, I have a pass. Here.”

“Oh. Right, Miss.”

Cornelius recognized Stevie and felt relief. He started forward through the bushes, ready to show himself, and the Marine continued to speak. “Better be careful, Dr. Branton. Those monkeys killed one of our troopers, that young orderly Corporal Billings, and they’re on the loose. Out there somewhere. I ought to send a trooper with you, but I don’t really have the men to spare. You lock all your doors and don’t open them ’till you’re at the compound, you hear?”

Cornelius turned away in horror. What had he done? The boy was dead! Dead! What of the law now? He saw Stevie’s car drive away, and remembered how the road looped here.

Quickly, he thought. I have to catch her. He ran uphill, through the chaparral, heedless of noise but silently all the same, ten thousand years of instinct protecting him from being heard. He reached the upper section of the road and stood panting, waiting, as Stevie’s car came up the hill.

She braked hard, and the car stopped with a screech. Cornelius went to the driver’s side. The window was rolled up, and Stevie did not move. Cornelius stood there, silently, in mounting panic.

Stephanie rolled down the window. “Cornelius! What’s happened?” she said. She sounded very frightened.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he told her. “I do not deserve it. But I didn’t mean to kill the boy. He was teasing Zira. Or I thought he was, and I struck him. He fell. It was an accident. You must believe me.”

“I do,” Stephanie said. “But they won’t. Where’s Zira?”

“In the bushes there. She’s in labor, or very nearly so. Stevie, what are we going to do?"

“Oh, God, I don’t know—can you get Zira into the car? We’ll have to find Lewis.”

“I’ll get her.”

“And hurry, Cornelius. The Marines will be all over this road.”

He rushed down the slope, and lifted Zira tenderly. “Can you walk?”

“Yes. It will be all right—where are we going?”

“Stevie has a car. She’s going to help us.” They struggled up the hill. Stephanie had the back door of the car open.

“Get in,” Stevie said. “And get down. Cover yourselves with this blanket. I’ll have to think of a story to get us past that roadblock down below. Don’t move, whatever you do.” She jockeyed the car around in a U-turn, backing up twice to get the long station wagon turned around on the narrow road. Then she drove back down the hill.

“Back so soon, Dr. Branton?” the Captain asked.

“Yes. I’ve been thinking about what you said. If they’ve killed one of your men, I want no part of them, Captain. I’m going home.”

“Don’t blame you, Miss.” He shined his light into her car and glanced in, but made no thorough search. “I’m supposed to open the trunk—you got no trunk in a station wagon, though. Have a good trip, Doctor.”

“Thank you, Captain.” She drove away.

“Killed?” Zira said. “Cornelius, what have you done?”

“I killed that boy. The orderly,” Cornelius said miserably.

Zira groaned. “Would it have helped if we’d called for help after he fell?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Cornelius said, “Be still. Rest. Think of the new life on the way, not about—one dead human. Stevie, where are we going?”

“You’ll see. It’s the only place I can think of. We’ll call Lewis when we get there.”

She drove on into the night, through the brown hills of Orange County. Behind them they could hear the sirens of the Marine trucks, and the sounds of helicopters searching the camp.

They drove through the darkened streets of San Juan Capistrano, past the old mission to a vacant field beyond. There were tents pitched on the field, and a number of truck-mounted circus wagons parked next to them. Stevie drove to a camper-trailer marked “ARMANDO’S SENSATIONAL CIRCUS.” “Wait here,” she said, and went to the door.

After a long time it opened and Stevie vanished inside.

“Can we trust her?” Cornelius asked. There was agony in his voice.

“What else can we do?” Zira said. “Cornelius, if she intended to betray us she need merely have spoken to the Marine captain at the roadblock.”

“Yes, but suppose she has changed her mind? Or—why would this man help us? This Armando?”

“What else can we do?”

Stevie and Armando came out of the caravan. The short, dark man peered into the station wagon, then opened the door. “Come out, come out,” he said. His voice was almost musical. “We have better places than the back seat of a Plymouth for a chimpanzee to be born. Come along, come along.”

His enthusiasm was infectious. Cornelius and Zira were led through the tent and caravan city to a small tent at the end. Inside they found a small infirmary, as well as cages. Armando pointed to the cages and laughed. “You will not be the first chimpanzee to give birth in Armando’s infirmary. Nine, nine healthy young apes have been born here, the last one less than a week ago. Now, Madame Zira, if you will consent to sleep in a cage—”

“Anywhere,” Zira said. “I’m exhausted.”

“Can you send for Lewis?” Cornelius asked.

“Certainly,” Armando said. “Certainly. Although you will find that Armando is not inexperienced in these matters.”

“I already called him,” Stevie said. “You’ll be all right here, Cornelius. You’ll see.”

Zira lay on the pallet in the cage. “If Lewis is going to deliver this baby, he’d better hurry,” she said. “I don’t think he’s going to make it”

“Oho,” Armando said. He looked at Cornelius, then shrugged. “Out. Out! Go to my caravan and wait. You will find cigars and scotch there, if you wish them, but leave.”

“But shouldn’t I stay?” Cornelius said.

The other three laughed in unison. Cornelius let himself be pushed out of the tent, their laughter ringing behind him. “Fathers!” Armando snorted. “I have delivered five human children here, when this circus was on the road, and I tell you, I prefer the animals, because the fathers of apes do not care. Go, Cornelius, you are worse than a human midget.”

He went to Armando’s wagon and found a seat at the dinette. The caravan was small but neat, and there was plenty of room to sit, but none to pace. Cornelius sat in the dark, his face in his hands, and he listened, and waited, while his thoughts haunted him with memories of the dead boy lying motionless on the hospital floor.

They will demand my child’s life as the price of that boy’s blood, he thought. I do not know how I know this, but I do know it. My child’s life for that boy.

TWENTY

“You’re taking a big chance, Armando,” Lewis Dixon said. “Why?”

The circus owner shrugged. “What have they done to deserve death? Imprisonment? Their baby killed? Come, it is nearly time. Stephanie is waiting for you.”

They walked quickly through the circus yards. “In that cage we have Heloise, and her daughter Salome. Our last maternity in this circus. We have had more chimpanzees born here than you have in your Los Angeles Zoo!”

They reached the infirmary tent. “Cornelius!” Armando said. “I told you to wait in my caravan.”

“I had to see Lewis. I didn’t mean to kill that boy, Lewis. I didn’t—”

“I believe you,” Lewis said.

“But will the others? While I waited, I had the most horrible thoughts. Nightmares, but I was fully awake. I thought—that humans would demand the life of my child in exchange for the orderly. I want them to take mine instead.”

“Nonsense,” Armando said. “No one will die for that boy. There was an accident. A very bad thing, but no one should die for it. Now go and wait for us. It is nearly time.”

Stevie looked out through the tent flap. “Yes, hurry, Lewis. Armando. Please.”

“We’re coming,” Lewis said. “Wait here, if you can’t go to Armando’s caravan. But stay out of sight.”

“My people may be trusted,” Armando said.

“Perhaps. But they can’t go to jail for what they don’t know. Or they’ll be less likely to, anyway,” Lewis said. “Now let’s deliver that baby.”

Again Cornelius was alone. He went to the other cage and looked inside. The chimpanzee whimpered at him, and clutched its baby protectively.

“Confused, aren’t you?” Cornelius said. He used soothing tones, knowing the chimpanzee couldn’t speak. “An ape, like you, but wearing clothes, and speaking. Well, you needn’t worry about it. Your child won’t speak. But she’s a fine one, anyway . . .” He paced again, waiting, and it seemed to be hours before he heard a cry from the infirmary.

He rushed to the entrance, but no one came out. He heard more cries from inside, and voices, low, urgent. What was happening? He was reaching for the tent flap when it opened and Stephanie came out.

She smiled. “It’s a boy. A fine healthy one, so far as I can tell. And Zira’s all right. Everything is fine, Cornelius.”

He looked around at the shabby circus wagons, and remembered the soldiers searching for him in the dark. “Sure,” he said. “Everything’s fine.”

Zira lay under blankets on a bed in one of the circus caravans. The baby suckled as she cradled it in her arms.

“What will we call him?” Cornelius asked.

“Milo,” Zira said firmly.

“Milo. Yes, certainly,” he said. “Are you sure you feel all right?”

“I’m fine, Cornelius. But what are we going to do now?”

“Armando goes on tour in a month. We stay with him. Where better for apes to hide than in a circus?” Cornelius said. “We can help him train the others. We can even be performers, so long as we’re careful not to appear too intelligent.”

“It’s not much of a life,” Zira said. “Wouldn’t it be better to go back, now?”

“How?” Cornelius asked. “Even if they would forgive us for the orderly, the Commission gave orders for—for our child to be aborted, and for us to be sterilized.”

“What?” She clutched the infant closer to her. “Savages!”

“They believe they are protecting their race. Would we act differently? I didn’t hesitate to hit that boy over the head—”

“Stop torturing yourself.”

“Yes. Anyway, you see that going back is impossible. And even if we could, we would have to tell where we have been, and Armando would be punished.”

“Then we can’t go back,” Zira said. “We’ll have to stay with Armando. Forever.”

Victor Hasslein’s office had become a command post. It was lined with maps, and his three telephones would reach, through the switchboards in the lobby, every law enforcement unit in Southern California. He stabbed out a cigarette into the overflowing ashtray and looked up at Lewis Dixon in desperation. “She couldn’t have had more than two weeks to go before giving birth, could she?”

Dixon shrugged. “I’d say less time. Certainly no more.”

“Then that definitely limits where they could go.”

“I wonder,” Amalfi said. “It’s been thirty-six hours, Dr. Hasslein. They could be anywhere now.”

“You are implying that someone helped them. Some traitor to the human race drove them away from here.”

Amalfi shrugged.

“I don’t believe it,” Hasslein said. “But—it’s worth checking out.” He lifted a telephone. “Major, find out what automobiles left here on the first night of the escape—and have those automobiles examined by the crime laboratory people. They are to search for signs that chimpanzees traveled in the cars.” He laid the phone in its cradle. “Where? Where would apes go?”

“To other apes?” Amalfi said aloud.

Hasslein looked up with a frown. Then he nodded slowly. “Of course!” He lifted the telephone again. “Major Osgood! Have all units begin a systematic search of every zoo, veterinary office, circus, menagerie—anyplace that would normally shelter apes. Begin with Orange County and then spread out to Los Angeles and San Diego.” He paused a moment.

“Yes, Osgood,” Hasslein said. “All of them. Ask for permission to search, first. If they won’t cooperate because you ask them, remind them that they probably want research grants and this is a federal matter. Tell them the IRS can look into their books. And if that doesn’t get you permission to search, we’ll have a federal judge standing by to issue search warrants . . . Right. Immediately.” He laid the phone down again. “That, gentlemen, may just do it.”

It took Lewis ten minutes to find an excuse to leave Hasslein’s office. He got coffee from a machine in the lobby, and went to a pay telephone when he was sure no one was watching. The phone rang and rang, and he was afraid no one was answering. Finally someone did.

“Stevie?” he asked hopefully.

“Lewis? Darling, are you all right? You sound so—”

“No time,” he said. “Hasslein’s ordered a search of all circuses and menageries. You won’t have long, they’re starting in Orange County. You’ve got to get the apes out of there!”

“But where?” she asked.

“I’ll think of something—just get them out of Armando’s, fast. Take them north, toward Laguna. I’ll meet you at that coffee house south of Laguna. The place where we had lunch last month.”

“Right. I’m on my way.”

“I love you, Stevie.”

‘Yes. Lewis—will it be all right? Can we save them?”

“I wish I knew. We’ll try. I love you.”

“Yes. That helps. I’m going now. I love you too, Lewis.” She hung up the pay phone and left the booth, running to Armando’s tent. He wasn’t there, and she found him in the caravan with Cornelius and Zira. Quickly she explained what Lewis had told her.

“Bastards!” Armando exclaimed. “No, no, Zira, you rest. Cornelius and I will pack what you need. Where will you go?” he asked Stevie.

“I don’t know, yet. Lewis will think of something.”

“It is better that I do not know, anyway. What Armando does not know, Armando cannot be made to tell.” He took out a suitcase and began stuffing it with baby clothes and equipment. As he did, he muttered. “I had planned it all so well! In a month—in just one month—we move on to our tour and eventually to winter quarters in Florida. I could have released you in the Everglades, and you would have lived happily. Or you could stay with Armando! My friends, my dear friends, what can I say? What can I do?”

“You’ve been a saint already, Armando,” Stevie told him.

“No, no, a real saint can work miracles, and Armando has none of those.”

“A man like you is a miracle,” Cornelius said. “We will be grateful forever.”

“I am grateful to you,” Armando said. “It has been a privilege to know you. I hate those who wish to tamper with destiny, which is the unalterable will of God. If it is God’s will that man destroy his fine civilization, and dominion over the earth pass to the apes, then that is God’s will; and no man has the right to change that. Dear friends, you must go. Now, before the police come.” He reached up to his collar and took a medal on a silver chain from around his neck. “Wait. Take this. For the baby.” He put the medal around the infant chimpanzee’s neck and fastened the clasp.

“But what?” Zira asked.

“It is a medal of St. Francis of Assisi, and it has been blessed by the cardinal himself. Armando has no miracles, but perhaps St Francis has.”

“Who is he?” Cornelius asked.

“He was a very holy man who loved animals,” Armando told them. “And some of us believe he can work miracles to this day. I know this is superstitious nonsense to you, but for Armando, leave the medal on the child. Please.”

“We will, Armando,” Zira said. “Always. It will never be taken off him. I promise you that.” She turned away, then suddenly looked back. “Armando? I would like to say goodbye to Heloise.”

The circus master frowned. “There is little time—but of course.”

They watched as Zira, carrying her child, went into the infirmary where Heloise cared for her own baby chimpanzee. Then Armando and Cornelius were busy again, gathering the things they would need on the road, and Stephanie brought the car around.

They did not have to wait long before Zira joined them.

It was night, and the oil derricks stood above them like giants. The grey bird pumps pecked endlessly at the ground, bringing up oil for the power plants just visible in the distance. The ground was covered with blowing dry dust.

Lewis stopped the station wagon at the edge of the oil field. “This is as far as I can take you,” he said. “We have to get back to the labs and clean up Stevie’s car.” He switched on the interior lights of the car and held out a map. “Can you read this, Cornelius?”

“I am familiar with maps,” Cornelius said. “If the conventions are explained—yes. Certainly. I could have drawn this.”

“OK,” Lewis said. “This is the oil field. It goes on that way to a bluff overlooking the sea. There’s a small bay right here, about two miles, just beyond an abandoned oil refinery. The bay’s crowded with wrecks. Old ships, brought in and beached. It’s not deep enough to use for a harbor.”

“Yes, I see,” Cornelius said. “Zira, wrap that baby up well. It’s chilly out there, and we have a long way to walk.”

“I used to play here when I was a kid,” Lewis mused. “Anyway, there are some old ships there, intact enough to give you good shelter. You can hide in them for the next month—”

“A month?” Zira protested.

“At least,” Lewis told her. “I’m still hoping we can get you out of here and past the search, so you can go with Armando. I’ll bring you more food when it’s safe.”

Cornelius nodded, and got out of the car. He shouldered the backpack from the trunk, and looked to Zira. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

He turned to Lewis. “They’ll kill the baby if they find us?” he asked.

“I’m afraid so. Yes,” Lewis said. His voice sounded as if the words had been torn from him with hot pincers.

“Then—give us a chance to kill ourselves. Please.”

Lewis hesitated, then nodded. He took a pistol from his pocket. “Do you know how to use this?”

Cornelius nodded, then laughed bitterly. “That was one portion of your technology which we never lost. Please, Lewis.”

“All right.” He handed Cornelius the weapon.

“You’re the second human I’ve kissed,” Zira said. She put her muzzle to his lips. “Colonel Taylor was the first.”

“And you’re my first,” Cornelius told Stevie. He kissed her. “Goodbye.”

“Till we meet . . .” Lewis said. “Not goodbye.”

“Come on, Zira. Don’t dawdle,” Cornelius said. He moved briskly away, his voice harsh to mask his emotion.