x
For days, Steve, Dan, and the other castaways had been pushing across a punishing landscape, a dry and desolate no-man’s-land that seemed determined to break them at every turn. The terrain behind them had been a relentless patchwork of scorched hills and bone-dry valleys, each one more unforgiving than the last. They had scrambled down loose, crumbling slopes where dust poured like water around their boots, choking the air and stinging their eyes. Jagged canyons split the earth like ancient scars, some so deep and narrow they had to cross one by one on fallen logs or makeshift rope lines fashioned from salvaged gear. Beyond the cliffs and clefts, the land unfurled into harsh sand dunes—sun-bleached and shifting underfoot—where the heat shimmered in ghostly waves and every step felt like two. There was no shelter out there, only the low, thorny brush that scratched their legs raw and offered no shade, and the occasional skeletal tree, twisted by years of drought and wind. At night, the air turned viciously cold, as if the land itself held a grudge. They huddled in shallow arroyos or beneath overhangs, listening to distant howls and the creak of settling rocks. Water was scarce; every muddy seep and half-dry spring had to be rationed like gold. And always, there was the sense they were being watched—by the land, by something in it, or by the memory of what they'd fled beneath it.
But now, at last, the harsh scrub had given way to the soft hush of pine needles underfoot. They had reached the edge of a forest, deep and green, with trees that swayed and murmured in the wind like old sentinels. Birds called faintly from the canopy. The air was cooler here, richer, fragrant with sap and moss. For the first time in days, the castaways could breathe without tasting dust. Behind them lay desolation. Ahead, maybe, a chance.
They stood in a rough semicircle, breathing hard, bruised and dirt-smeared from their trek, all eyes turning to Steve as if he might somehow make sense of it all.
Betty frowned. “So where do we humans fit in?”
“We don’t,” Steve said flatly. “The humans here are considered animals—mute, unintelligent. They live in the wilderness, scavenging. The apes treat them like pests, or worse.”
“Wait a second,” Valerie cut in, frowning. “If humans here are all supposed to be dumb animals, then how did you and Dan survive this long? Somebody out there must be smarter than they’re letting on.”
“I’m not saying all of them are,” Steve admitted.
“Who’s in charge of this simian society?” asked Fitzhugh, incredulous.
“There are three kinds of apes,” Steve said. “Orangutans are the politicians and religious leaders—they run things behind the scenes. Gorillas are the military, the enforcers. And chimpanzees, they're the intellectuals—scientists, doctors, sometimes sympathetic.”
“Sympathetic?” Mark asked skeptically. “You make it sound like some of them helped you.”
“They did,” Steve nodded. “Zira and Cornelius. Two scientists. Chimpanzees. They found me after the hunt… after I was captured. They thought I was just another dumb animal—until I spoke.”
“You spoke?” Valerie gasped. “To them?”
“They had no idea humans could,” Steve said. “Speech is forbidden for humans here. It's considered heresy. An abomination. When Zira and Cornelius realized I could talk, they risked everything to help me escape.”
“I couldn’t have gotten Steve out of Ape City without the help of those humanoids,” Dan said quietly.
Mark said, "I don’t get it. They had us pinned, they had Barry—and then nothing? That cave-in wasn’t nearly enough to stop them for long."
Valerie furrowed her brow, her face a mix of confusion and frustration as she said, "They wanted us bad enough to chase us for miles. Why just... stop? We’re half-dead out here. They could’ve caught us easily."
Fitzhugh’s voice was low and edged with disbelief, his eyes narrowing as he spoke, his face twisting into a troubled frown. “It doesn’t make sense. Unless... unless they got what they wanted, and the rest of us don’t matter anymore.”
Betty's voice was steady but laced with a quiet intensity, her expression worn and weary, yet firm with resolve. She glanced around at the others before saying, "We’re all exhausted, barely holding together. If they wanted us, we wouldn’t have made it this far. Something scared them off—or called them back."
Steve was silent for a long moment. Then, apparently changing the subject without answering any of their questions, he asked, "Hey—anybody want to hear some good news for a change?”
Fitzhugh threw up his hands in exasperation and snapped, Good news? Have you lost your mind, Captain? We were frozen by a pack of medieval throwbacks, chased halfway across a wasteland, and now we’re stuck in a world run by apes—with guns, tanks, and no sense of humor! And let’s not forget Barry—still being worshiped by those Underfolk like some kind of boy-god! If there’s good news in all this, I must’ve missed the memo.”
Dan spoke up, his voice low but insistent. “Listen, when we first got here, I saw something—one of those cave kids had a set of airline wings, just like the ones we used to hand out on commercial flights. They weren’t from our ship. It could mean another suborbital crashed here before us. The Marintha, maybe. If that ship’s still out there somewhere... we might not be as alone as we think.”
Steve nodded slowly, then said, “If I can get to our wreck—salvage some tools, maybe even critical parts—I might be able to get the Marintha operational again. And if I can figure out how the time displacement works… we just might have a shot at getting home.”
Betty crossed her arms and said uneasily, “Steve, what if those Underfolk are waiting for you at the wreck site? If they’ve found it, they’re not just going to let you walk in and take whatever you need.”
Steve shook his head. “Unlikely. Think about how dim those caverns were—that wasn’t just bad lighting, that’s their normal. They’ve probably lived down there for sixty generations or more. Their eyes couldn’t handle direct sunlight now even if they wanted to. They won’t come topside.”
Mark Wilson stepped forward, arms folded tightly across his chest, jaw set. “You all talk like going home is still an option,” he said, voice low but firm. “But you’re not thinking straight. Going back might be the same as signing our own death warrants.”
The group fell silent, every eye on him.
“Before they stuck us in those freezing tubes,” he continued, “I got one of them to talk—barely. There was a war. A big one. Nuclear. Sometime after we left, everything burned. Cities, nations, people... gone. The worst part? They don’t even remember why. What started it. Who fired first. Just... ash.”
Gasps rippled through the group, faces shifting from shock to fear. Valarie looked down at the ground, silent. Betty covered her mouth. Fitzhugh took a step back like the words had physically struck him.
Mark’s voice hardened. “I don’t care if it’s apes or robots or men wearing leaves—there’s no way I’m going back just to die.”
Dan exchanged a heavy glance with Steve. What if Wilson was right? What if Earth’s future was already scorched beyond saving?
Steve’s jaw tightened, his thoughts racing. The idea of bringing Zira and Cornelius back now tangled with something darker: was there even a home to return to? They were going to have to rethink everything.
Dan let out a long, weary sigh and shook his head. “It all makes sense now,” he said quietly. “The twisted animals... radiation mutations. The wasteland, the weird forests, those primitive people barely clinging to survival. The apes running the show—and that ruined city we saw, the one that used to be Metropolis, U.S.A...” He looked around at the others, eyes grim. “We finally did it,” he said. “We finally destroyed ourselves.”
Fitzhugh snorted bitterly and folded his arms. “That comes as no surprise to me,” he said. “I always knew we’d blow it sooner or later—treaties, peace talks, the so-called United Nations... all just window dressing.” He glanced at the others, his voice thick with scorn. “No wonder I hate the human race.”
Steve was silent for a long moment, staring out at the horizon, jaw clenched. Then he spoke, low and steady. “Maybe this makes it more important than ever that we do get home,” he said. “If there’s even the slightest chance we can warn someone—change something—then we have to try. We’ve seen where it all leads.” He turned to face the others, eyes sharp. “But we’ll need more than stories. We’ll need proof. Evidence.” He paused, letting the thought hang before adding, “And I have a feeling there are... two individuals who might be willing to come with us. If we can make that happen, maybe—just maybe—we stand a chance of stopping this before it ever starts.”
Valerie's tired eyes met Steve's as she suggested, her voice laced with bitterness, "Maybe it's time we all took a break and got some real rest – a good long nap wouldn't hurt anyone, considering we've been running on fumes for who knows how long."
"I can't take a nap," Betty said, ignoring the bitter tone in Valerie's voice. "I keep thinking about Barry Lockridge back there with the Underfolk."
"Thinking about Barry and worrying about him isn't going to help, Betty," Steve said, trying to reassure her. "We'll get him out! But first, we've got to get some help. If we can reach Cornelius and Zira without getting caught, they might be able to help us pinpoint a possible location of the Marintha----we can't get a fix on the site from here, so we'll need their expertise to track it down."
Fitzhugh threw up his hands in disbelief. “Oh, now you want to ask the monkeys for help?” he said, incredulous. "You really think dragging a pair of talking chimps into this scavenger hunt of yours is going to help? They’re dumb animals with lab coats and vocabulary, that’s all. What good would they be to us? None. Zero. Zilch.” He shook his head. “This whole idea of yours is a fantasy, not a plan.”
Steve turned on Fitzhugh sharply, his voice low but firm. "You haven't met them, Fitzhugh, so don’t pretend you know what they are. Zira and Cornelius are more human than a lot of people I’ve known—more compassionate, more rational... and frankly, a hell of a lot smarter. If anyone can help us find the Marintha, it’s them."
Fitzhugh threw up his hands and let out a breath. “Fine, fine—I’ll rest my case. Just don’t expect me to start taking orders from a couple of talking chimpanzees.”
Steve's temper snapped. In one swift, furious motion, he grabbed Fitzhugh by the front of his shirt and shoved him backward, hard, slamming him against the rough trunk of a nearby tree. Fitzhugh let out a startled gasp as bark scraped at his back.
Dan was there in an instant, reaching to pull Steve away. “Steve, don’t—!” he barked, gripping his arm. “Back off, man!”
But Steve didn’t hear him. Not really. His eyes burned with fury as he leaned in close to the wide-eyed Fitzhugh. “You will listen to Zira and Cornelius,” Steve snapped through clenched teeth. “Not because they’re apes—but because they’re scientists. Because they know more than we do. About this world, about its past, maybe even about how to fix what we broke.”40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgc9Vi1KHZc
40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHarAVuGTJx
40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnuwOj52w3Y
40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ51tTb8CYHW
Seven hours had passed, and the blazing sun had finally begun its slow descent toward the western horizon, casting long, golden shadows through the forest canopy. One by one, the castaways had curled up on the soft earth, weary bodies giving in to much-needed rest. The murmurs of conversation had faded, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional sigh or shift of a dreaming body.
Steve waited a full minute after the last stir of movement from the others before he rolled slowly onto his side, trying to ease the sharp cramp biting into his left leg. The change in position offered no relief. The muscle still throbbed, tense and stubborn from the long trek across sand and rock earlier that day. He exhaled quietly, eyes fixed on the dappled canopy overhead, the ache in his leg refusing to fade as the sky deepened into hues of amber and rose.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5h2umXhNw1
He tried to discipline his mind to sleep, but it didn't work. He flipped open the tiny sealed medical pack at his waist and pulled out a Paingone. Pressing the slim tube hard against the skin, of his arm, he winced slightly as the high-pressure capsule inside forced the medication through his skin and into his bloodstream. In moments, the medication had relaxed his tight nerves and muscles.
Steve Burton---a man lost in his own future---finally slept.
