Beneath the Planet of the Apes - Avallone Michael (бесплатные книги полный формат .txt) 📗

Brent sank wearily to the floor of the cart. His shoulder hurt again, his eyes were like two blazing balls of fried meat, his mind was coming apart. Nova huddled against him, her eyes wide open and oddly tranquil, despite their plight. Perhaps it was an old story to her, the only thing she had ever known—being pushed around by gorillas. For Brent, it would never be easy to take.

Still, what was there he could do about it?

Now, at least.

Yet there was something hopeful, something to think about, as his eyes watched the gorillas mounting artillery field pieces and grooming horses for combat. The view did not change one iota on all the long, harrowing trip toward the outskirts of Ape City.

Something was up.

At the Research Complex, Dr. Zaius’ own special kingdom, there was also much activity, if of a different kind. Zaius himself had invited General Ursus down to see what was going on. The Gorilla, massive and impressive as always in his uniform and medals, was walking around the compound inspecting the experimental cages and devices which formed the nucleus of Zaius’ work. Zira was also on the scene. With a chimpanzee assistant at her elbow, she was accepting the newest delivery of cage-wagon humans sent from the city proper by her husband Cornelius. Zaius and Ursus, strolling the compound now for a chat, had just come into view when the gorilla driver delivered his wagonload of specimens which included Brent and Nova. The human cargo was as wretched as ever.

Zira, withholding her shock, approached Brent and Nova very casually. She had not expected to see them again so soon.

Brent held his ground. There was nothing else he could do.

Zira stared up at him.

“Male. Type E cranium. Very unusual.” The chimpanzee at her elbow rapidly made some notes on her pad.

Zira reached up, tweaked Brent’s ear and gave him a deliberately deadpan wink that only he could see.

“Weak occipital development. Substandard lobes—” She turned her attention to Nova who was staring at her dumbly. “Female. Type—” She broke off, for now she could see Dr. Zaius and General Ursus walking toward her. The sight disturbed her. Zaius was saying, “. . . so be it. You know that my scruples were dictated by caution—not by cowardice. When the day comes, I shall ride with you.” Ursus was grunting a reply, but his piggish eyes were roving over Brent and Nova with undue interest. Zira quickened her routine survey, anxious to be gone. The guards were impatient too.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve been able to study specimens of such extraordinary clinical interest,” Zira said too loudly. “Take them inside . . .”

“You can’t have them,” General Ursus suddenly spoke up behind her. Zira whirled.

General Ursus’ ugly face was wreathed in what passed for a smile. A horsewhip was coiled in his huge right paw.

“They’ve been marked,” he explained quietly, “for target practice.” As he said this, he flicked the whip and it cut cruelly across Nova’s lithe body. Brent flinched but held his silence. General Ursus had already turned away, leading Dr. Zaius off with him. Zira raged inwardly. The gorilla driver, now that his leader had spoken, needed no second urging; he was already pushing Brent and the girl toward his cage-wagon. The vehicle was empty now, its desperate occupants removed for further research. The door at the rear hung open. Zira helped the driver to force Brent and Nova into the van. Brent moved like a dead man. This last had been too much for him. All the fight had gone out of him. He was dead-tired and dead-hopeless. As the driver went about his paces, Zira locked the cage door. Brent sat down on the floor of the wagon, his head in his hands. Nova began to weep. Softly and terribly. Brent was suddenly galvanized. He jumped to his feet, shaking the bars of the cage, his face furious. The cords in his neck stood out with the effort. Nova, with uncomprehending obedience, stopped crying and followed suit. Together they made a pitiful sight. Humans rattling the bars of their cage.

Brent wildly pointed to the lock of the cage door.

Zira nodded as the driver returned to the front seat of his wagon. Her cute chimpanzee face was almost kindly.

“These poor animals,” she said so that the driver could hear her. “They think blind force is the answer to everything.”

The driver grunted, and reached for his whip.

“Wait—I’ll double-lock the door,” Zira said.

Under cover of the clatter of the wagon rolling once more into motion, Zira took out her key and unlocked the door of the cage, but without opening it. Brent stared at her.

“Good luck,” she whispered.

He kept on staring at her, dumbly, long after the driver’s whip had spurred the horses into a steady trot, long after her simian figure in its outlandish skirt and jacket was a solitary speck in the dust of the roadway. The motionless figure of Zira was a sight that Brent would always remember. For whatever was left of his life.

He could not account for the lump of something in his throat, nor for the fact that his eyes had filled with tears.

Zira’s milk of kindness had engulfed him.

The wagon rumbled along at a good clip, heading back to the city, and Brent waited for the proper time to make his move. He had to pick a convenient moment. The terrain was still alive with ape preparations for war. They passed a cavalry of gorillas maneuvering in an intricate pattern that brooked no good for any foe ever caught by it. So Brent waited, biding his time, comforting Nova, who in her eternal speechlessness was never more than a senseless receptacle for all the ill that came her way. Brent’s heart had gone out to her almost from the beginning. Her appeal was enormous. Apart from her physical attributes, she was like some lost and forlorn child you wanted to hold in your arms to make her stop crying, stop being afraid. God knew he was terrified himself. Scared virtually spitless, to put it baldly, truthfully.

But a man had to fight to survive.

Something the apes should always have realized.

Their own loss if they hadn’t.

So Brent waited until the proper moment should come.

It did.

The driver had led the wagon through a stretch of deserted terrain, asprinkle with trees and shrubs, and it was here that Brent found his spot for an escape plan.

With Nova silently waiting, he opened the cage door, swung out over the roadway and clambered atop the wagon’s roof. The gorilla head of the driver, hunched over his reins, was visible just above the forward lip of the cage. Brent edged forward on his hands and knees, mindful of the jarring passage of the wagon along the bumpy roadway. His hands tightened about the long leather leash trailing from his dog collar. His eyes were not quite sane as he reached the driver. Then he jumped. Like a savage who knows that it is the victim’s death or his own. The gorilla head jerked violently. Great paws came up, fighting the hands from behind that were garroting with the leather leash. Brent was remorseless. He put all his mad weight into his arms and twisted savagely until the gorilla slumped lifelessly against his body. Brent stepped down and kicked the driver’s inert form out of the seat. When the body hit the roadway, disappearing in the wagon dust, Brent could have screamed in exaltation. Even killing felt fine and good in this godawful place!

Like getting some of your own back.

With the fever singing in his veins, he drew the horses to a halt. There was no time to lose. They couldn’t run around this infernal country in an open wagon. Not one of their wagons, at any rate.

Brent cut the two horses loose with a knife he found on a rack in the driver’s seat. Then he went back to see about Nova, but she had already jumped out of the cage to join him. Her eyes were excited but still frightened. He patted her hand, motioned to the horses, keeping a wary eye on their surroundings for any signs of the gorilla cavalry. They weren’t out of the woods yet. It was far too early to send up any skyrockets or do victory jigs.