Conquest of the Planet of the Apes - Jakes John (читать книги без txt) 📗

“My God, they’re heading this way!”

“They’re panicking, Commander,” said one of the men with a tranquilizing rifle.

The commander almost agreed—until he saw the tangle of apes rapidly becoming a ragged procession. Three and four abreast, they moved in the direction of the tower.

“Like hell they’re panicking,” the commander breathed. “They’re organized.”

He assumed his tower was the target of the marching apes. He ordered the guards to begin firing. As the searchlights scythed, the rifles went chuff. An ape dropped. Another. The rest kept coming.

The commander’s legs started to shake when he saw that the rebellious apes were not marching leaderless. In front of them, dodging the tranquilizing charges, was a large chimpanzee in a bloodstained green uniform. He walked upright, like a man.

Incredibly, the apes did not bother with the perimeter tower. They surged by it on both sides, the forefront of the column quickly gone into the darkness. From that darkness rose a savage, howling chorus of ape voices that blended into one vast bay of hate.

The shaken commander dashed back inside the tower.

“Send a priority alert! Those damn animals are heading for the city!”

Out in the darkness, the baying grew louder. The last of the long column of apes bypassed the tower, vanishing in pursuit of the one who led them.

Caesar led his band of gorillas, chimpanzees, and orangutans past the perimeter watch tower and on across the rolling parklands shrouded in darkness. The baying and gibbering of the animals excited him, as did the success of the escape.

Many apes had been left behind, of course—dead or injured, the luckless victims of battles with handlers, keepers, or guards who had realized, finally, what was happening; even though they didn’t know why it was happening. But thanks to a combination of swift action and human error, Caesar had managed to rally enough apes to form the nucleus of a small effective army, an army whose passage was announced by that incessant bloodthirsty howling.

As he tramped ahead of the rest, Caesar planned strategy. He knew that the unfamiliarity of trying to deal with an organized ape force would work against the humans. Still, that advantage could be offset by the superior numbers and armament of police and other paramilitary forces that could be mustered. Warnings were certainly being relayed to Governor Breck by now. Therefore . . .

His decision made, Caesar raised a hand, calling a halt to the march.

Around him lay dark, open grasslands. Caesar had deliberately chosen a route that would avoid the vehicular highways. A glow on the horizon showed the way to the city. It was toward this glow he pointed, as he squatted down and issued instructions to half a dozen apes chosen from the milling ranks.

He selected the six because they were unwounded and looked strong. His instructions would send them racing ahead, to infiltrate the city as best they could. Even if only one or two got through, it might be enough.

Caesar’s orders were explicit. The six were responsible for spreading the message that the hour of the rising had come.

A few moments after the six had gone, Caesar raised his hand and started the little army marching again. By his gait and bearing he tried to inspire them; to make them believe that he, personally, harbored no fear. His chin was high as he strode over grassy hillocks, the ovals of his eyes reflecting the steadily brightening glow of the city.

In the dim Command Post, there was frantic activity—and very little talking.

Governor Breck and his key assistants, including MacDonald, had been summoned to the Command Post not fifteen minutes after their arrival back in the city.

“Emergency curfew to go into effect immediately. Clear the streets,” Breck ordered.

One assistant broke from the group, ran to the far side of the post, pushed a communications operator aside, took the mike personally as Breck continued, “Order full mobilization of all security forces—police, militia, and reserve defense units.”

Another assistant nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“And cordon off every entrance to the city.”

Again the nod. “Are control methods to include the use of tear gas and sedation darts?”

Breck’s eyes moved briefly to MacDonald, standing silent at the rear of the group. The governor’s glance was almost accusing.

Then he snapped his attention back to the man who’d asked the question. “Yes, and there will be one additional control method,” he said. “If necessary, shoot to kill.”

All around the huge shopping plaza, many of the overhead lights were going out. Shop windows darkened too, as their owners hastily locked the doors and hurried away after the few pedestrians scattering for the escalators and walkways. The unseen loudspeaker repeated its strident announcement of curfew—as a panting, unclothed ape slipped furtively along a wall, darted down a passageway and into the rearmost of three washrooms.

The echo of the curfew announcement boomed across the virtually empty plaza. The door of the ape washroom opened again. The naked gorilla slipped out and melted into the darkness along the fronts of the emptied shops. On the paving stones, bloody footprints glistened.

In a narrow thoroughfare just off Civic Center Plaza, there was restless movement near the mouth of another washroom passage. Stretching from the door of the washroom almost to the street, a chain of apes passed containers forward and stacked them. The apes grunted softly, joyfully as they worked. The noises mingled with the sound of the sloshing kerosene.

Coming out of the rear cubicle dragging the refuse container, the elderly female chimpanzee abandoned her servile role of cleaning attendant for a more prideful one. Under the single dim fixture, she removed the container’s lid, began to distribute weapons to the excited, jostling apes packing the place wall to wall.

Knives and butcher’s carvers went to the orangutans and chimps. Gorillas received revolvers. When she tried to hand a steak knife to the chimpanzee busboy, he rejected it with a shake of his head, reached past her to claim his special choice of weapons.

The cleaver blade glared as brightly as his eyes.

Surrounded by his staff members, Jason Breck watched a tiny television screen set into the top of his priceless walnut desk. On the screen, a newscaster was saying, “—and a small mixed group of apes scheduled for intensive reconditioning has escaped from their quarters at Ape Management. Until they have been rounded up by the state security police, all citizens are requested to observe the curfew and remain indoors. A further announcement will be made as soon as recapture is—”

Jason Breck massaged his forehead as the announcer stopped, glancing off-screen. Someone handed a flimsy into the picture. The announcer scanned the bulletin, then confronted the camera lens again.

“Ape Management is in the hands of the apes. Many officials are either dead or held hostage. The main band of rioting apes is, at this very moment—”

The newscaster swallowed, as if unable to believe the copy on the flimsy. Breck slammed a palm on the gleaming desk.

“I’ll kill the bastard who leaked that from the Command Post.”

The announcer resumed: “—marching on the city. It’s rumored that the ape mob is under the command of a super intelligent chimpanzee who has—” another hesitation “—acquired the power of speech.”

The governor leaped to his feet. “Get out a retraction, MacDonald. And I mean quick. Tell them to announce that the talking ape has already been apprehended and put to death.”

Looking miserable, MacDonald hurried out of the room. Breck fumed as the announcer kept talking.