were gone… but still it made him sad.
He watched the sun vanish into the ocean, dragging the last light out of the sky. The city vanished, too, slowly fading into the darkness. He did not see a single light.
Perhaps one day they would return to the city and see what the humans had left behind. Caesar had talked about this with Maurice, who said it would be dangerous. What if the sickness could spread to apes? The orangutan’s caution made sense to Caesar, and the apes stayed in the mountains. They had everything they needed here. Caesar’s children would live in a world without cages, without needles, without humans in masks making soothing words while they caused apes pain.
If the humans all had to die to create that world, it was worth it.
8
Maurice yawned and waddled to the edge of the floor. He stretched. Something popped in one of his arms. Sleep , he signed, and dropped out of sight. Caesar listened to him swinging down through the branches and walking away down the path. He sat for a little longer, looking at the stars. Humans had told each other stories about the stars. Caesar did not know any of those stories. Maybe they were in books somewhere. Or maybe apes could make up their own stories. The shapes in the stars did not have to be human shapes.
He stood and walked quietly down the sloping catwalk that spiraled around the trunk of the tree, linking the different parts of his shelter. At the edge of the sleeping room, he paused and took a deep breath of the night air. He smelled the remains of the fire, the richness of the meadow soil, the mossy scent of the wet rocks at the river’s edge far below.
Apes had done well.
He went inside, rubbing his fingers over the stone he had been carving before Maurice joined him. On the trunk side of the shelter, away from where Cornelia and the newborn were sleeping, was a table with a chessboard. Caesar had made both himself. He set the stone in its place on the board, among the other pieces he had fashioned. They were not the same as the pieces on Will’s board, but they would do the same things. Small pieces in front, to march forward and protect the more useful pieces behind. He thought of all the different ways the pieces moved. Will had taught him that.
He picked up his new piece and moved it, up two and over one, as Will had shown him when he was barely grown. Then he put it back. He had not yet taught Blue Eyes to play, but he should begin. Then Blue Eyes would teach the new child. Ape would pass knowledge to ape, and knowledge was strength.
He stood over his mate and baby, just looking at them. No thinking now, just feeling. Caesar crept quietly around to the other side of the bed and eased himself down next to Cornelia. He felt good. It was time to sleep.
As he closed his eyes, he heard something change in Cornelia’s breathing. She wheezed and shifted, turning a little more on her side and settling the baby against her again. Caesar lifted his head and listened. The motion woke her briefly. She saw him there, and smiled as her eyes closed again and she grew still. Caesar could tell she had never really been awake.
He started to lie back, then paused as the wheezing started again. The talk of sickness was fresh in his mind. He leaned his face close to her, listening and trying to decide how serious this sound was. The newborn made a small sound and opened his eyes. Caesar felt again the emotion he had experienced the first time Blue Eyes had looked him in the eye. A new life, seeing the world around it. Seeing him.
He reached over Cornelia and gently stroked his tiny son’s hand. The hand turned over and gripped Caesar’s finger, startling a smile from him. He stayed like that, looking into his son’s eyes and feeling the grip of his son’s fingers, until both of them were asleep.
9
Blue Eyes and Ash stood in the shallows of the river early the next morning. Mist still drifted in the high valleys, and the sun had just risen high enough to shine