The seven castaways crouched low behind a thick screen of brush, peering through the leaves at the quiet road beyond. The city loomed not far to the south, but here, just beyond its northern edge, it was eerily still.
Betty whispered, brushing a branch aside, "It's too quiet. I don't like it."
Mark squinted down the road and muttered, "It’s like the whole place just...shut down."
Fitzhugh, arms folded tightly against his chest, added in a low grumble, "Maybe they’re all waiting for us. Somewhere we can’t see."
Valerie, glancing nervously at the others, said, "Either way, we can't stay here. We’re too exposed."
Dan, crouched beside Steve, gave a grim nod. "She's right. We’ve got to move—and fast."
Steve, after one more look down the deserted road, drew a steadying breath and said quietly but firmly, "All right. Stay low, move quick, and stick to the trees as long as you can. Let's go."
A mile farther on, they came on the broad river that supplied water to Ape City. For a moment they were tempted to halt, to hide and rest in the thick bushes that bordered the river, but just at that moment they heard the sound of engines. Military truck engines, Steve thought, headed our way. The trucks were chugging along the dusty, one-lane road running parallel to the river.
Hurrying now, trying to stay ahead of their pursuers, the castaways stuck to the road but tried to cover as much distance as possible in as short a time as possible. On one side of them was the river, and on the other a low block wall made of sun-dried brick with occasional fallen-in gaps showing a lack of maintenance. The wall separated the road from an orchard of gone-to-seed apple trees which were slowly being choked to death by weeds.
They've had no new humanoid crews recently to reinforce the "Animal Labor Detail," Steve remembered.
Long minutes passed with only the sound of their heavy breathing to break the night's stillness as they trotted along the road. Then, close behind them, came the harsh sound of gears being changed, clashing together as the driver geared down to round a bend--the corner they had come around only minutes before.
"Over the wall, now!" Steve hissed sharply, waving his arm to signal the others. "Get down flat against it and stay low until they're past!"
Without hesitation, the group scrambled up the low stone barrier that bordered the road. Steve vaulted it first, landing in a crouch on the other side and pressing himself tight against the rough surface. One by one, the others followed---Dan pulling Betty up and over and Valerie slipping down fast, Fitzhugh grunting under his breath as Mark gave him a shove from behind.
A moment later, a jeep came rolling up the road in a cloud of dust, followed by a series of trucks filled with soldiers dressed in the distinctive uniforms of General Urko's elite guard.
As soon as the last truck groaned past, rocking on the uneven roadbed, the castaways were on their feet, running through the orchard toward the low hills half a mile away to the west. Minutes later, they were scrambling from bush to bush, stunted tree to stunted tree, up a hillside. Then, again, they heard the sound of trucks, this time laboring even more as they moved off the road into the open fields, coming up the slight grade toward them.
One by one, the castaways dove under the low, thick brush, bodies scraping against dry earth as they wedged themselves behind a cluster of small boulders. Steve was the first, pressing low against the ground, motioning urgently for the others to follow. Dan slid in beside him. Valerie and Betty scrambled in next, faces pale, hands trembling slightly as they pushed themselves flat. Mark shoved Fitzhugh ahead of him, the older man muttering under his breath but obeying, all too aware of the danger.
From their hiding spot, Steve and Dan carefully parted two of the boulders just enough to peer through. Dust hung in the air, and they squinted through it, watching nervously. The rumble of engines grew louder—ape-driven trucks, grinding heavily through the underbrush, snapping twigs and flattening bushes in their path.
Every muscle tensed as the trucks pushed through the brush just below their hiding place. The castaways held their breath, terrified that even the smallest sound would give them away.
For a moment, it seemed as if the vehicles might veer toward them—but then, with a jolt and a roar, the convoy turned back toward Ape City, bouncing away across the rough ground.
Only when the sound had faded into the distance did Steve finally release a slow, careful breath and motion for the others to stay down just a little longer.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0tfBFBPuBt
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A few hours later, after a steady, exhausting trek through the darkness, the six castaways stopped at the crest of a low ridge. Breathing heavily, they turned to look back. Far behind them, a faint, sickly glow stained the night sky—the yellow streetlights of Ape City, twinkling like dull stars through the greasy smog that hung low over the rooftops. It was a grim sight, a silent reminder of the danger they had barely escaped.
Steve rested his hands on his knees, catching his breath. "That's a long way," he said quietly, nodding toward the distant lights. "But not nearly far enough."
Mark, arms folded, scowled at the view. "We're making good time, but we're still way too close. Those patrols could come up on us fast if we don't keep moving."
Dan rubbed a hand across his face, weary but determined. "If we really want to get out ahead of them, we need to stop crawling like this. We move faster. Harder. No more hiding every time we hear a noise."
Betty, wiping dust from her cheeks, looked uncertain. "But if we rush, we might run right into them."
Valerie shifted her pack on her shoulders. "If we keep zigzagging through these hills, we'll stay off the main patrol routes. It’s risky, but it’s better than getting caught out in the open."
Fitzhugh, sweating and red-faced, grumbled, "Wonderful. Speeding ourselves to death instead of letting the apes do it."
Steve straightened, steely determination in his eyes. "No choice. We have to stay in front of them. We can’t let them catch up. Not now, not ever."
Without another word, he turned and started down the far side of the ridge, the others exchanging grim looks before falling into line behind him, their footsteps quiet but swift.
By dawn the castaways were almost exhausted, but the hunger they were all beginning to feel was bothering them as much as the exhaustion. All around were scrub trees, but none of the berry bushes they had snacked off of coming into Ape City from the Forbidden Zone the night before. Shortly after dawn they slid, one by one, down a deep incline, into a dry gully that showed signs of being a runoff for flash floods. There, with a thunder of wings, a covey of quail flushed---flying only some fifty feet before landing in a clear area of the gully. No longer hunted by man, and having no reason to fear the vegetarian apes, the birds had lost their fear of most creatures.
The six castaways crouched low to the ground, each of them carefully reaching for small, smooth rocks. With deliberate quiet, they scooped them up, their movements synchronized and practiced. They stood in a loose line, winding their arms like baseball pitchers, then released the rocks in swift, fluid motions. One rock flew through the air, hitting its target with a soft thud, and a plump bird fell to the ground without a sound. The others, unaware of the threat, continued bobbing and clucking, waiting for the next.
In just a short quarter of an hour, six of the plump birds lay dead at their feet. Each time they struck, the birds were too absorbed in their surroundings to flee. The castaways were methodical, but careful not to overdo it.
They stopped not out of reluctance, but because they realized the difficult truth—there was no way to preserve the birds. The lack of refrigeration or any means of long-term storage made the bounty they had gathered worthless for future use. They couldn't afford to waste food, especially in a world where survival was uncertain, and it made little sense to kill more when they could do nothing to keep the meat from spoiling.
Half a mile beyond the gulley, the six castaways began their slow, grueling ascent into the mountains that loomed ahead—a jagged wall separating the land of the apes from the wild cave region where the humanoids lived. The slope was steep and treacherous, forcing them to scramble over loose stones and jagged outcroppings, their hands often grabbing at sharp-edged rocks to steady themselves.
Up and up they went, their breaths steaming in the thinning, frigid air. The landscape grew increasingly barren, a rocky wasteland stretching out before them. Nothing stirred—no birds, no small animals—only the ghostly creak and sway of thin, dead-looking trees, their skeletal branches twisting in the icy wind that howled over the high passes. It was a lonely, desolate place, as if life itself had abandoned it.
At high noon, after hours of relentless climbing, the group stumbled upon a narrow ledge carved into the mountainside. Without needing to speak, they all dropped to their haunches in exhaustion, seeking whatever shelter the ledge could provide from the bitter wind.
Steve rose to his feet, stretching the stiffness from his legs, and surveyed the barren slope above them.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIxQftsn6bk
"I think we can hole up here for a while," he said, glancing back at the others. "They’ll be looking for us along the main road, not up here. And they won’t be able to see a fire from below."
At his words, a wave of relief spread through the group, bringing tired but genuine smiles to their faces. For the first time in what felt like days, they had a sliver of safety, a place to catch their breath. With new energy, they scattered across the ledge and nearby rocky crevices, quickly gathering dry twigs, brittle grasses, and small, sun-bleached branches.
Dan, moving efficiently, set about cleaning and plucking the birds they had taken earlier. Feathers flew in the cold air, carried off by the ever-present wind, while Dan worked with brisk, practiced hands. A few feet away, a narrow, icy stream trickled down the face of the mountain, its waters so clear they seemed almost invisible against the stone. The sound of its soft tinkling added a strange, peaceful note to the otherwise barren surroundings.
Betty and Valerie knelt at the edge of the stream, washing the little quail clean in the frigid water, their hands red from the cold but their spirits lifted. They worked quickly, laughing quietly between themselves, feeling lighter now that the gnawing uncertainty of the moment had eased, if only a little.
Soon the quail were roasting over a small, carefully sheltered fire, each bird skewered on spits fashioned from the driest wood they could find. The scent of the roasting meat filled the thin air, and the six castaways huddled around the fire, their mouths watering, barely able to control their impatience. Every few seconds someone would lean in, sniffing appreciatively or prodding a spit to check the progress, their hunger sharpening by the second.
For the first time in what seemed like forever, it almost felt like a real meal was within reach.
Finally, the small, succulent quail were ready, the skin crisped and golden over the fire. Without ceremony, the six castaways dug in, each grabbing one of the spits and tearing into the tender meat with a hunger that made conversation unnecessary. They ate with their hands, picking the bones clean with a ferocity born of exhaustion and desperation, savoring every last bite.
The fire crackled low beside them, and for a brief moment, the ledge high on the barren mountainside felt almost welcoming. An hour passed in this rare, precious calm as they finished their meal, dropping stripped bones into a small pile beside the fire.
Gradually, the tightness in their faces eased, and the color returned to their cheeks. They were still bone-tired—muscles sore from climbing, heads heavy from the thin air—but now they were filled and refreshed, their spirits reignited.
No one needed to speak aloud what they were all thinking. They hadn't forgotten why they were here, struggling through this unforgiving wilderness. Their goal was still clear in every determined glance and every steady movement: to save themselves from General Urko’s wrath. The meal had given them the strength to continue—and with renewed focus, they prepared to move out once more, toward whatever lay ahead.
Over the next three days, they stuck to the high slopes of the mountains, desolate country where the granite rocks sparkled gray in the sun and where the trees seemed to match the rock's grayness. What little soil there was proved sandy and stony, and Dan and Steve were not surprised that they found little group up there to sustain the group. The long days were spent sliding and slipping across the sharp rocks, climbing always upward, so that the road became a ribbon far below them. The longer nights were spent huddled together for warmth over small fires to keep everyone from being frozen and hoping to get rest enough to spend another day fighting the mountains.
Then, early on the sixth day after their escape from Ape City, the castaways crested a granite peak and there, below them, still miles away, but clear in the crystal air, was the warm, tree-filled valley, and line of caves that was the home of the humanoids.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZsuWPQqzBZ
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