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The Beast of the Planet of the Apes
Not far from the farmlands that bordered the western coast, Peter Burke, Alan Virdon and Galen were passing through a wooded area. Their spirits were light, considering their plight as fugitives: they had recently helped to disband a pack of simian dragoons who had been terrorizing the local human populace. Even though the three friends were never fully safe, they felt a certain calm, knowing that the area’s security head, Perdix, was an ape of integrity, not one of Urko’s hotheaded bloodthirsty subordinates, and that Perdix was grateful to them for having exposed the murderous dragoons and their corrupt leader, his own deputy, Zon.
Galen was regaling the two human astronauts with a story of his former life in Central City, when out of the treeline came bounding an animal the size of a pony. With a rasping growl it leapt upon Burke, who was walking a few steps behind his companions, and knocked him to the hard ground.
Virdon and Galen spun around to see the beast pinning their friend to the baked dirt road.
“Alan! That thing is killing Pete!” gasped Galen,
Burke spoke from beneath the energetic animal. “It’s not killing me,” he said; “It’s licking me!”
And indeed, the beast was lapping its broad slobbery tongue over Peter Burke’s grimacing face.
Virdon furrowed his brow. “What is that thing?” he asked his chimpanzee friend.
Galen was equally puzzled. “I have no idea. But whatever it is, it certainly seems to like you, Pete.”
“I wish it liked me a little less,” said Burke as he struggled to slip from under the slavering creature. When he was able to stand again, he looked down at the thing and for the first time was able to take in its odd features. It stood over a meter high at the shoulder; its hide was sleek and smooth, hairless except for a shock of fur on each hip and a shaggy mane that ran the length of its back from its wide head to its short thick tail. Its amber coloured eyes were large and almost soulful; its gaping mouth was lined with uneven teeth. A pair of blunt tusks rose from its heavy lower jaw.
“What is it?” asked Virdon a second time, as he laughingly watched his astronaut friend struggle to his feet from under the enthusiastic creature.
“I don’t know,” answered Galen simply. It’s true that many unknown animals inhabited the area. Galen’s human companions had called the ones they had encountered “mutations,” sprung from mysterious ancestors from a radiation-misted past.
Virdon laughed. “It’s ugly as sin, but it sure is friendly!”
“Friendly is an understatement,” said Burke as he unsteadily regained his footing, and the creature forcefully rubbed against his leg like a contented housecat.
Galen watched the scene with amusement, but also with a sense of trepidation. “We’d better get moving,” he said; “Perdix might figure out who we are and come after us.”
The two men knew that the ape was right, and all three of them resumed their trek; but trotting right at Burke’s heels was the strangely devoted animal.
After an hour or so, the beast began whining, and tugging urgently at Burke’s pant leg.
“What do you want?” asked Burke in exasperation. “Let go of my leg!”
But the animal did no such thing; indeed, it pulled even harder, to the point that the cloth of Burke’s homespun trousers began to tear at the side seam.
As the two tussled for control, there was a crash as a heavy rotting limb from a dead tree snapped off under its own weight and fell harmlessly into the path of the party. Had they not stopped, one or more of the travellers surely would have been injured, or worse, by the broken branch.
Galen said with a certain awe, “How did it know that branch would fall?”
“It must have heard the wood cracking,” answered Virdon.
Peter Burke regarded the now frolicking beast with amazement. “Yeah,” he said quietly; “That’s it. It heard the wood cracking,”
The men, the chimpanzee and the unnamed creature continued their journey, well into the late afternoon. The overcast sky gave only a dim, grey light. Suddenly, the weird creature leapt in front of Burke and began its rasping growling yap.
“What’s your problem now,” hissed Burker as he tried vainly to push past the animal. Wherever he tried to step, the bulky beast shifted into his path.
The Galen and Alan Virdon stood nearby. “Pete,” said the chimpanzee, “Look.”
Burke took his focus off the shifting beast, directly in his path, and saw, only a few steps away but hidden by overgrown brush, a sheer drop of several meters into a gorge of tangled roots and stone.
“Don’t tell me that thing can hear a cliff,” said Burke.
Virdon was intrigued. “Maybe it has psionic powers.”
Galen wrinkled his muzzle at the unknown term. “Psionic powers?” he asked.
Virdon attempted to clarify: “Psychic abilities. Clairvoyance. Maybe it knew the branch would break, and the pit was there ahead of us. Maybe it sensed it.”
Burke was skeptical. “Seems kinda far-fetched.”
Viron replied, “Yeah, well, until a few month ago, so did talking apes. We’ve seen other mutations. Who knows what sort of animal its ancestors were… but somehow, this beast seems to know when danger is nearby.”
Galen, ever sensible, said, “Shouldn’t we be looking for a place to bed down for the night?”
The two men agreed, and skirting the pit, the trio took to the road again, with the intention of finding a safe clearing to make their camp. Burt before they could locate such a spot, the beast began tugging Burke’s sleeve.
“Hey!” he yelped at the creature. “Lay off!”
But the beast kept tugging, pulling Burke into a reed-choked gully that ran along the roadside. Finally the astronaut gave in and allowed himself to be drawn off the road and into the tall weeds of the ditch. Unsure of how to proceed, but trusting the instincts of the odd animal, Galen and Virdon followed, and the three of them, and it, crouched in the yellowing reeds.
Just then, from the direction in which they had been heading, a pair of gorilla soldiers came trotting along the road on horseback. The fugitives ducked lower into their sheltering ditch, and stayed as still as they could until the troopers were long out of sight.
Burke stood, and looked at the beast whose adamant interventions had thrice saved their lives. “You really do sense danger, don’t you,” he mused. The animal panted and slobbered, and appeared almost to smile.
Burke’s stomach growled loudly. “I guess I’m hungrier than I thought I was,” he said. “Galen, what have we got left for dinner?”
The chimp looked through his backpack. “A few apples. A couple opers. That’s it.”
Burke sighed. “Apples and opers. Boy, what I wouldn’t give for –”
But before he could finish the sentence, their beast companion bolted into the woods nearby, and a few moments later came galloping back with a pair of rabbits lolling dead from its jaws.
Peter Burke stared at the animal. “For some meat.”
Once they had kindled a small campfire in a clearing a quarter of a mile of the road, Burke sat peering into the eyes of the remarkable beast. With that same sloppy smile, it returned his gaze. Burke leaned forward and pulled a greasy leg from the rabbit they had roasting on a spit over the flames, and tossed it to the animal, which ate it eagerly, bones and all. The creature met his gaze once again, drooling, and Burke fed it a second rabbit haunch.
“So,” Virdon asked of him and Galen, “What are we going to do with this thing? We can’t take it with us: it’s hard enough finding food and water for the three of us, let alone fresh meat for this – this whatever it is.”
Galen and Virdon quietly agreed, and they sat in silence, eating their meager meal and watching the creature devour the rabbit meat.
Peter Burke looked the animal in the eye again. “I’m sorry. You can’t come with us, even though you’re a godsend.”
Looking back at the man, the creature made a quizzical whimper, and with a resigned sigh, settled down, head on its front paws, and let itself doze.
A slow smile curled across Burke’s face. “I know what to do,” he said, and he fetched his yellow vest from his pack, and tore away a big square of the cloth. With a charred stick he began scratching words onto it. “Get some rest, boys; we have an early day tomorrow.”
***
At dawn the next morning, the greying old chimpanzee farmer Sestus pulled on his tunic and trousers and headed out to begin his day of labour, as always; but when he opened the door to his cottage, he was greeted by a rasping bark. There, tethered to a bench at the front of the house, was a creature, sleek, slavering, and seemingly smiling.
From inside the modest home, a female voice called, “What is it, Uncle Sestus? What was that sound?”
Sestus stooped to untie the beast. “Some sort of animal,” he answered. “I’m not sure what it is –”
But before he could complete his thought, the now-freed creature trotted past him, and into the cottage where it flopped down at the feet of the female seated inside: Sestus’ blind niece Fauna. The creature emitted a sort of purr, and placed one broad paw on Fauna’s lap.
Fauna gasped. “Oh my! It certainly seems friendly!” Her nimble fingers stroked the creature’s head, and found a bit of cloth on a cord tied around its maned neck. “What’s this,” she asked.
The grizzled farmer removed the scrap from the improvised twine collar. “It’s a note,” he said. “It’s addressed to you!”
“To me?” Fauna said in surprise.
Her uncle read the ashy black letters. “It says, ‘I belong to Fauna. I will keep you safe, always. My name is Pargo’.”
And at that, the strange and wonderful creature Pargo pressed itself to its new mistress, in its new home, and sighed contentedly.