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Forty-five minutes into their grueling trek through the parched and unforgiving terrain, the castaways and Nova crested a low ridge and froze. In the distance—no more than a quarter mile away—stood a lone military truck, its angular silhouette parked at the mouth of a narrow pass that cut through the jagged hills.
Steve raised a hand, motioning everyone to crouch behind a slab of sandstone about fifty yards from the vehicle. Peering over the rock, he and the others watched in silence. The truck, battered and dust-coated, bore the markings of Urko’s expeditionary force. It had clearly been stationed there to serve a strategic purpose—likely to direct and relay incoming cargo trucks from the road leading back to Ape City.
For fifteen long minutes, the group observed every movement, every shadow. But only one figure stirred—a lone gorilla soldier, slouched near the front tire, rifle slung casually over one shoulder, eyes scanning the pass more out of habit than alertness. No other trucks were visible along the dusty road stretching behind him. The way, it seemed, was unguarded.
"Looks like we just found our ride out of the Forbidden Zone," Steve said quietly.
Fitzhugh snorted, folding his arms. “And just how do you propose we talk that ape out of his truck, Captain? I must’ve missed the part where this became a debating society.”
Steve shot Fitzhugh a hard glance. “I’m not planning to ask him nicely,” he said. “We’re going to take that truck—whether he wants to let go of it or not.”
Betty stepped forward, her voice low but urgent. “Steve, please think this through. That’s not just a soldier you’re talking about—it’s a gorilla. You know how strong they are. Man against beast? That’s never ended well for man.”
Steve turned to face them all, eyes hard with resolve. “Then give me a better idea,” he said, his voice tight. “Because unless one of you knows a way to politely ask a gorilla for the keys, this is the only shot we’ve got.”
Dan stepped forward, voice calm but firm. “I’ve done it before. Back when we got those maps—you remember. I didn’t have a choice.”
But Steve shook his head. “And I’m not giving you another one. You’ve had your turn, Dan. Now it’s mine.” His tone left no room for argument. “We can’t afford to lose anyone. I’ll do what needs to be done.”
Without waiting for further comment from anyone in the group, Steve slid around the rock and started down the hillside toward the parked truck, moving fast in an attempt to get there before the ape on guard came around to this side of the truck, as he'd been doing every few minutes.
Cinna, the guard on duty at the truck, wasn't being particularly watchful. Because of the heat, he had even removed his dark-green tunic and breastplate and wore only his green leggings and black boots. After all, he was reasoning to himself, what's there to watch against in the Forbidden Zone?14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQogK2wegon
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Steve crouched low behind the rock, eyes fixed on the lone gorilla guarding the truck. Even at this distance, he could make out the squat, solid shape of the creature—shorter than a man, yes, but built like a boulder with legs. One of the tracker classes, no doubt. They weren’t tall like the soldier elites Urko favored for ceremonial posts, but what they lacked in height they more than made up for in raw muscle and relentless stamina. These gorillas were bred for pursuit and endurance; their barrel chests and thick arms honed over generations to crush brush and boulders alike.
Steve's jaw tightened. Taking on one of them wouldn't be like wrestling a man—it would be like going toe to toe with a compact, living battering ram. And he knew all too well that tracker gorillas didn’t hesitate, didn’t question orders, and didn’t know fear. If it came to a fight, Steve would have one shot—maybe two. After that, brute strength would take over. And the odds wouldn’t be in his favor.
Steve crept from cover in a slow, silent crouch, slipping from shadow to shadow until the truck loomed ahead, baking in the sun. The gorilla stood near the driver’s side, leaning casually against the door, its broad back to Steve—until a faint crunch of gravel betrayed his final step.
Cinna spun with a grunt, surprised but not stunned. Its thick arms rose instinctively, and Steve realized in that instant just how big the tracker really was—shorter by half a foot, maybe, but with a chest like a stone furnace and arms thicker than Steve’s legs.
No time for thought. Steve launched himself forward, aiming low. He had one advantage: speed and weight—or lack of it. Cinna’s first swing was wide, powerful enough to crack a rib if it connected, but Steve ducked beneath it, twisting inside the creature’s guard and driving an elbow into its gut.
It staggered, more surprised than hurt, and tried to seize him. Steve slipped away again, dancing backward, breathing hard. The reach difference was real; Cinna’s arms swung in great, punishing arcs. One caught his shoulder, spinning him half-around, but he rolled with it, came up in a crouch, and sprang in again. His fists were a blur, landing jabs to the beast’s face and neck—none powerful enough to knock it out, but enough to drive it back.
Cinna bellowed, enraged now, bull-rushed him—but Steve sidestepped just in time. The ape stumbled forward, off balance, and Steve leapt onto its back, looping an arm around its throat. It was a desperate move, raw and reckless. Cinna clawed at him, twisting, stumbling, until his foot caught a loose rock and both tumbled hard to the ground.
They landed with a thud, a cloud of dust kicking up around them, locked in a savage, grinding struggle. Dust rose in choking clouds around them as they slammed against the sunbaked earth, each trying to overpower the other. Cinna roared with primal fury, his thick arms attempting to pin Steve's smaller frame, but Steve twisted, using leverage and speed to slip loose. He jammed a knee into the gorilla's ribs, only to receive a bone-rattling punch to the side that nearly knocked the wind from him. They rolled again, Steve’s hand scrabbling for a rock, anything—but Cinna knocked it away with a powerful backhand. The fight had no rhythm, no elegance—only raw, punishing force.
From his vantage point behind a nearby outcrop, Fitzhugh's normally smug expression hardened with rare resolve. He muttered under his breath, opening the worn leather toolkit he’d carried since the crash. “Don’t get me wrong,” he hissed as he rifled through the secret compartment. “I’ve never been fond of Steve Burton’s heroic jawline or his incessant speeches—but I’m damned if I’m going to stand here and watch a glorified gorilla strangle him.” His fingers closed around the disguised laser—still looking like a screwdriver at first glance—and he drew it out, flicking the activation toggle as he scrambled toward a better vantage point, steeling himself for what came next.
With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Steve drove his shoulder under Cinna’s arm and heaved upward, breaking the gorilla’s grip just long enough to spin them both and slam Cinna hard against the rocky slope. The impact jarred them, but Steve didn’t let go. He struck with quick, brutal efficiency—elbows, knees, fists—hammering at joints and pressure points, keeping the brute off balance. Cinna growled, tried to lock him in another bear-like embrace, but Steve twisted again, using the gorilla’s weight against him.
They crashed backward into the side of the truck, the jolt rattling the metal and nearly knocking the wind out of both. Still locked together, Cinna’s feet scrabbled for purchase in the dirt—but something was changing. In the deep, instinctive part of the gorilla’s mind, a flicker of doubt arose. This man—this smooth-skinned, hairless outsider—wasn’t like the weak prey he was trained to hunt. He fought like an ape, fast and relentless, and Cinna felt the cold stab of something unfamiliar coil in his gut: fear. He bared his fangs, confused, enraged—not just at his opponent, but at the terrifying thought that he might lose.
With a guttural roar, Cinna tore himself free from Steve’s grip, his powerful arms flinging the man away like a ragdoll. Both combatants scrambled to their feet, the dry earth scattering beneath their hands and boots—but the gorilla was faster. In one swift motion, Cinna swung his thick, black-booted foot up in a brutal arc, the sole smashing into Steve’s jaw with sickening force. The impact hurled the aviator backward, and he hit the ground hard, the wind knocked from his lungs.
Snarling with fury, Cinna lunged, intending to land full force on his opponent and pin him down for the final blow. But Steve, dazed yet not defeated, instinctively bent his legs, catching the massive gorilla midair. With a roar of effort, he straightened his legs and kicked upward with every ounce of strength he had left. Cinna was launched off to the side, crashing into the dust in a stunned heap, the momentum rolling him over once before he came to a halt, groaning and dazed.
Before the gorilla could recover his bearings, Steve dragged himself to his knees, lungs burning and vision swimming. With a growl of determination, he clenched his fists together and drove them down in a powerful double-fisted kidney punch, slamming into the thick, fur-covered back of the kneeling gorilla. The impact sent a burst of dust into the air, particles dancing in the sunlight. Cinna let out a piercing howl—a mixture of rage, pain, and shock—his massive body jerking forward under the force of the blow as his limbs splayed for balance.
Cinna spun about with a snarl, still on his knees despite the punishing kidney blow, his wild eyes locking onto Steve with renewed fury. The two came together again in a violent tangle of limbs, twisting and rolling across the dirt like battling animals, each straining with every muscle to gain the top position. Dust rose in choking clouds as they struggled, growling and grunting, until finally they broke apart once more—panting, bruised, and coated in sweat and grit.
Cinna, true to his breed's speed, was again first to his feet, but Steve wasn’t far behind. With a shout, the human pilot surged forward from his knees, diving low and fast. His arms locked around the gorilla’s thick, muscular legs, his fingers digging into the coarse fabric of the dark-green uniform. With all the power he could summon, Steve heaved backward, yanking the legs out from under the ape and pulling him forward. Cinna toppled with a surprised grunt, crashing onto his back in a plume of dust, the wind momentarily knocked from his lungs.
Steve lunged forward, aiming to finish the fight by throwing himself onto the downed gorilla. But it was a miscalculation. As he sprang, Cinna’s booted foot lashed upward like a piston, catching Steve square in the face. The impact was brutal—a white-hot explosion of pain—and Steve staggered backward, blood spraying from his nose as he crumpled to the ground. In a flash, the gorilla was on him, straddling his chest, pinning him with his weight.
Learning quickly from his opponent’s tactics, Cinna abandoned brute grappling in favor of raw savagery, unleashing a hail of punishing punches to Steve’s head and chest. Each blow landed like a hammer, sending shockwaves through the human's body. Steve turned his head from side to side in a frantic effort to dodge the worst of it, but still the knuckles cracked against his jaw and cheekbones. Blood poured freely from his nose and mouth, staining the dust beneath him.
Then, with a snarl of primal fury, Cinna's massive, fur-covered hands closed once more around Steve’s throat—tightening with relentless pressure as the pilot clawed helplessly at the ape’s arms, the edges of his vision beginning to blur.
Fitzhugh threw a sharp glance over his shoulder, motioning with quick, urgent gestures for the others to stay low behind the rocks. His usual sarcasm was gone, replaced by a tight-lipped determination as he slipped the disguised laser weapon from his toolkit. Holding it close to his chest, he began a careful descent of the hill, crouching low to keep his profile hidden, each step measured and silent. The harsh sunlight glinted off the tool’s polished surface as he crept forward, eyes locked on the brutal struggle below—ready to act, whether he liked Steve Burton or not.
Steve's fingers clawed desperately at Cinna's thick, powerful wrists, muscles straining as he fought to pry them away from his throat. The gorilla's grip was unrelenting—tight as a steel vice—and Steve could feel the world darkening at the edges of his vision, his pulse pounding in his ears. Every ounce of strength in his body surged into his arms and shoulders as he twisted and heaved, trying to break the stranglehold. But the gorilla’s raw power was immense, every sinew in those thick arms forged for domination and brute force. Steve’s own strength, formidable though it was, couldn’t force the fingers loose. The pressure increased, and a brutal truth settled in his mind: he was losing.
He was choking, his vision going black, his tongue swelling to fill his mouth, and he knew that the fight would soon be over, with the ape victorious if he didn't do something quickly. Suddenly, taking a chance that the ape would continue to try to choke the life out of him, Steve pulled his hands away from the ape's wrists and pointed his thumbs at the animal's eyes, ramming them savagely into the pupils. Cinna screamed with pain and released Steve's neck to grab the human's arms, but the thumbs had done their work. Cinna's shrieks filled the air, and he rolled over onto his side.
Steve rapidly got to his feet, his lungs laboring to replenish his body with oxygen. He stood still, his chest heaving, wiping the blood from his face with the back on one hand. But there was no hurry now, and he knew it. The fight was over.
For a few seconds more, he continued to watch the dark-furred ape writhing on the blood-splattered dirt; then he stepped back as the blinded gorilla started to get to his feet. Steve stood less than a yard away, and he took one step forward, bracing himself. Pivoting on the ball of his right foot, he hit the ape with all the power he could muster. Cinna went down like a falling tree---out, or maybe dead---and the aviator turned to meet an anxious Alexander Fitzhugh.
