War for the Planet of the Apes: Official Movie Novelization
Greg Cox
Contents
Cover
Also available from Titan Books
Title Page
Copyright
Armed Forces Briefing Report — Classified
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
About the Author
Acknowledgments
THE OFFICIAL MOVIE NOVELIZATION
Also available from Titan Books
WAR FOR THE PLANET OF THE APES: REVELATIONS
The Official Movie Prequel
By Greg Keyes
DAWN OF THE PLANET OF THE APES: FIRESTORM
The Official Movie Prequel
By Greg Keyes
DAWN OF THE PLANET OF THE APES
The Official Movie Novelization
By Alex Irvine
THE OFFICIAL MOVIE NOVELIZATION
GREG COX
BASED ON THE SCREENPLAY
WRITTEN BY MARK BOMBACK AND MATT REEVES
BASED ON CHARACTERS CREATED BY RICK JAFFA & AMANDA SILVER
TITAN BOOKS
WAR FOR THE PLANET OF THE APES: The Official Movie Novelization
Print edition ISBN: 9781785654749
E-book edition ISBN: 9781785654756
Published by Titan Books
A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd
144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UP
First edition: July 2017
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
War for the Planet of the Apes ™ & © 2017 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
Did you enjoy this book? We love to hear from our readers.
Please email us at [email protected] or write to us at
Reader Feedback at the above address.
To receive advance information, news, competitions, and exclusive offers
online, please sign up for the Titan newsletter on our website
www.titanbooks.com
ARMED FORCES BRIEFING REPORT — CLASSIFIED
TO: COMMAND
FROM: [REDACTED]
TOPIC: HISTORY OF APE CRISIS
Fifteen years ago, a scientific experiment gone wrong gave rise to a species of intelligent apes… and a virus that nearly destroyed the human race. The SIMIAN FLU, as it came to be known, brought humanity to the brink of destruction. The survivors—the few who were immune to the crisis—came to envy the dead, while the apes continued to thrive in the safety of the woods north of SAN FRANCISCO.
With the dawn of their burgeoning civilization, the apes flourished in the absence of human contact, until they were discovered by a small band of desperate survivors striving to establish a colony of their own. The colonists and apes struggled to coexist, but their fragile peace was shattered by KOBA, an insurgent ape who sought revenge on his former captors. CAESAR, the reputed leader of the apes, attempted to restore order.
But there was no turning back from the brutal fighting that had already begun.
The embattled colonists sent out frantic distress calls for help, unsure if anyone was even out there to hear them. The signal was received 800 miles north at JOINT BASE LEWIS-McCHORD, where hundreds of soldiers had taken refuge after the viral apocalypse. These men and women were all that remained of the U.S. ARMED FORCES. Responding to the call, a hardened fighting division, led by [REDACTED], a decorated colonel of the Special Forces, was sent down to join the battle. Caesar and his apes retreated to the woods, but the human forces pursued, determined to destroy the apes once and for all. For two years, the soldiers have been searching in vain for Caesar, who is rumored to be commanding his apes from a base hidden somewhere deep in the woods.
And the war rages on…
1
The vast redwood forest had survived the end of the world. Civilization may have collapsed, but the woods endured, unchanged by the plagues and riots and upheaval that had brought humanity to the brink of extinction. Towering trees, rising as much as three hundred feet above the shady forest floor, seemed to mock mankind’s precipitous fall, while the primeval scenery was just as it must have been twelve years ago, before everything went to hell, or fifty years or a hundred or five hundred. Sunlight filtered through the dense green canopy overhead, which was filled with birdsong along with the ceaseless chattering of squirrels. A brisk winter wind rustled leaves and branches and ferns. A damp misty haze chilled the air.
Nature endured. Whether humanity would was another question.
Footsteps, moving stealthily through the woods, intruded on the sylvan domain. Fallen twigs and leaves crunched beneath the tread of multiple army boots as a platoon of human soldiers made their way up a steep, thickly wooded hill as quietly as they could manage amidst the profuse vegetation. The soldiers moved without speaking, even their breathing hushed. Grim-faced men and women clutched rifles or military-grade crossbows tensely. Wary eyes scanned the murky forest, on guard against any lurking hostiles. Worn, threadbare camo fatigues, badly in need of replacement, testified to a long, grueling campaign. Dark camouflage paint obscured their features, masking their individuality. Battered Kevlar helmets bore a variety of scrawled labels and slogans:
MONKEY KILLER
BEDTIME FOR BONZO
ENDANGERED SPECIES
MONKEY SEE, MONKEY DIE
Uniting the troop was a common insignia, AΩ. Some wore the Greek letters hand-drawn on their clothing, others had tattooed them onto their bare arms and skin, but they all bore the emblem proudly. To do otherwise would have been traitorous, not just to their own unit, but to the entire human race. The insignia was a constant reminder of just how much was at stake—and the unthinkable consequences of failure.
An advance scout, taking point, halted abruptly. He whispered urgently to his commander, who was only a few paces behind him.
“Captain—!”
Captain Rod Wilson, late of the U.S. Army, held up his hand, signaling the rest of the unit to stop. He was a rugged combat veteran who had never expected his tour of duty to extend beyond the end of the world. Wondering what the scout had spotted, he hurried forward to join the soldier, who pointed up the slope straight ahead. Wils
on raised his M16 assault rifle to peer through its gunsight and was rewarded with a glimpse of the enemy.
Three apes—chimpanzees, to be exact—occupied a ridge roughly one hundred yards away. Two of the chimps stood guard, while the third watered their horses at a trickling stream. One of the guards clutched a stone-tipped wooden spear, the other toted a Remington semiautomatic rifle.
Wilson scowled. By now, the sight of apes employing firearms and horses no longer provoked shock, but Wilson still found it disturbing nonetheless. He was old enough to remember when apes were just animals, confined to circuses and zoos and laboratories. Caged like the beasts they were. Before everything changed, before the virus…
Apes were not native to North America. There had been a time when Homo sapiens had been the only primate living free on the continent, when no chimps or orangutans or bonobos or gorillas had inhabited these woods. Bile rose at the back of Wilson’s throat as he contemplated the unnatural creatures on the ridge.
They didn’t belong here. They were wrong.
And they couldn’t be allowed to exist.
He lined up the gun-toting ape in the crosshairs of his gunsight. His finger tensed on the trigger. The humans had the advantage of surprise only until the first gunshot, so he intended to make that shot count.
Say your prayers, monkey, he thought. If monkeys pray.
A hand fell on his shoulder before he could squeeze the trigger.
A furry, thickly knuckled hand.
The hand of an ape.
Momentarily startled, Wilson turned to see a large male gorilla looming directly behind him. The ape’s army helmet matched those of the human soldiers, marking him as part of the captain’s unit. A heavy rucksack, stuffed with weapons and gear, hung upon the ape’s hairy back. Wilson recognized this particular ape, which went by the name of “Red” because his thick black fur had a slightly reddish tinge. Red was an ugly bastard, but clever enough to know his place—and to come in handy sometimes.
What? Wilson asked silently, interrogating the gorilla with his eyes.
Red pointed up.
Craning his neck back, Wilson peered at the verdant canopy overhead, where another helmeted ape crouched furtively in the branches, looking very much at home high above the ground. Not for the first time, Wilson envied the apes’ natural gift for climbing, and resented them for it.
Evolution made humans soft. We’re paying for that now.
He made eye contact with the chimp in the tree, who pointed at the ridge where the three apes were loitering. Looking back at the ridge, Wilson wasn’t sure at first what the chimp was seeing from his elevated vantage point. Just the three hostiles they had already spotted, or something else?
What am I not seeing?
It took him a moment but then he spotted it: a long, low trench wall made up of heavy logs and stones, artfully concealed by overlapping layers of leaves and branches that put the soldiers’ own crude attempts at camouflage to shame. The leafy cover blended smoothly with the surrounding wilderness, hiding the wall from view unless you were actively looking for it.
Well, I’ll be damned, Wilson thought. Those sneaky kongs.
Heaven only knew how many more hostiles might be hiding behind the concealed fortifications. The sharp-eyed chimp in the tree had definitely earned his rations for the day; Wilson and his soldiers had practically walked right up to the wall without seeing it. That could have been a fatal mistake.
Good thing our own monkeys were on the ball.
Wilson nodded at Red, acknowledging the timely alert, before deciding that he ought to notify the Colonel of their discovery. A wireless communications headset was affixed to the captain’s helmet; he clicked it on and whispered into the mike.
“Echo two-six to command. Colonel, we have eyes on three kongs in the north woods. A couple of our donkeys think there are others here, too.” He kept his voice cool and controlled, despite his growing excitement. “Maybe this is it, maybe the base is near.”
Two years, he thought. Two years we’ve been slogging through the woods, trying to track these damn dirty apes to their lair. Have we finally got a bead on them?
The Colonel’s voice replied via the headset, speaking too softly to be heard by anyone else, including Red, who remained close at hand. Wilson listened attentively.
“Yes, sir,” he responded. “Copy that. Over.”
Clicking off, he waved up more soldiers from the rear. They reacted with admirable speed and efficiency, fishing additional arms and ammo from the bulging rucksacks carried by Red and two other apes, who obediently accepted their role as pack mules. Chimpanzees were known to be seven times stronger than the average human, which made them useful as porters as well as scouts.
Too bad they stink like hell, Wilson thought.
“You!” he said to one of the apes in a low voice. “Over here.”
The chimp loped over to the captain on all fours, walking on his knuckles as well as his bare feet. Wilson frankly preferred to see apes moving like quadrupeds instead of walking on two legs like humans; they were less creepy that way. He extracted an M79 grenade launcher from the ape’s pack. The “bloop gun” resembled a stubby, sawed-off shotgun. He swept his gaze over the troops under his command, picking out one of his best marksmen.
“Preacher,” he said.
A young soldier crept forward to join the captain, tightly gripping a loaded military crossbow. Preacher was a fresh-faced Latino youth still in his teens; Wilson wondered how much Preacher even remembered of what life used to be like, back when humanity ruled supreme over the planet. Like so many young men and women these days, he had come of age in a world turned upside-down. In a reality that still worked the way it was supposed to, he’d be worrying about prom and graduation now, not hunting upstart monkeys who thought the future belonged to them. The apes—and the Flu—had robbed Preacher of the life he should have lived. And not only him, but an entire generation of men and women.
Time for payback. Wilson indicated the three apes on the ridge. “The one with the gun,” he specified.
Preacher nodded and readied his weapon. The captain did the same, aiming the loaded grenade launcher at the hidden trench wall. Behind them, the rest of the unit prepared themselves for combat. Gleaming bayonet blades, thirsty for simian blood, were affixed to rifles. Safeties were unlocked.
Wilson steeled his features, betraying no sign of fear or trepidation. His jaw was set in determination, the better to inspire the brave men and women under his command. All eyes were on the captain as he silently counted down with his fingers.
Three… two… one!
Preacher fired his crossbow. A twenty-inch carbon bolt struck the armed chimpanzee in the chest, killing him instantly. He toppled over into the trench behind the wall, much to the shock of his two companions, who barely had time to react before Wilson fired his own weapon. A pair of 40 mm grenades screamed across the woods and slammed into the apes’ fortifications, exploding on contact.
A fiery orange and yellow detonation blew the wall apart, sending chunks of rock and timber flying, along with the bodies of the closest apes. Scores of stunned and injured apes also spilled from the open trench behind the breached wall. Gorillas, orangutans, bonobos, and chimpanzees, many of them bleeding and broken, tumbled down the slope onto the smoking rubble, while losing their grip on their weapons. Guns, spears, bows, and arrows were strewn about like fallen leaves and branches, of little use to the embattled apes. Crackling flames and acrid white fumes added to the chaos. The echoes of the explosions rang in Wilson’s ears. Wounded apes screamed in fear and agony.
You had it coming, the captain thought.
The other soldiers opened fire on the apes before the animals had a chance to regroup or retaliate. A deadly hail of bullets tore into hairy hides. Arrows struck home in target after target. A fat-faced male orangutan, his shaggy orange coat now streaked with bright wet splashes of red, staggered to his feet, only to be brought down by another bolt from Preacher’s
crossbow. More grenades arced through the air and into the exposed trench. Deafening explosions rocked the hillside, and frantic birds and small animals fled in terror. The wind carried the unmistakable odor of war back toward Wilson and his troops. He breathed it in deeply.
You smell that, monkeys? That’s the smell of mankind taking back our future.
Further up the ridge, above the trench, the two surviving chimps overcame their shock. They leaped back onto their horses and wheeled them about, attempting to escape up the wooded slope behind them, but a sniper nailed one of them in the head. The ape, which had been watering the horses only moments ago, fell from his horse and crashed to the ground, leaving only a single chimp on horseback: the sentry with the spear. Digging his heels into his mount’s side, he galloped up the hillside, screeching in warning. Rising smoke aided his escape as he disappeared into the trees and the distance. Wilson frowned, but consoled himself that one lone chimp didn’t matter in the long run.
Let him run, he thought. The rest of these monkeys won’t be so lucky.
“Come on!” he shouted to his troops over the din of battle. After slinking covertly through the woods for hours, afraid to even breathe too loudly, it felt good to give voice to their righteous fury at last. Eager to press their advantage, he led the charge up the hill toward the stricken enemy. Whooping and shooting, his soldiers chased after him, hyped up on adrenaline and the promise of victory. They fired at will at the shell-shocked apes. Caught off-guard and off-balance, the besieged animals didn’t stand a chance.
Serves them right, Wilson thought, for thinking these woods belong to them.
“Let ’em have it!” he shouted. “No prisoners!”
2
Spear was not just the chimpanzee’s weapon of choice; it was his name. Even as a child, almost as soon as he could climb, he had fearlessly hurled himself through the air from branch to branch and tree to tree, so the name “Spear” had found him as surely as a javelin striking its target. Now he wished he could truly fly like a spear instead of merely pushing his horse to gallop more swiftly than it ever had before.
