Monkey Wars (18 page)

M
ico was stunned.

Without the slightest compunction, Tyrell had dashed all hope of a more enlightened future. As casually as if he was gathering fruit, he had plucked total power into his hands.

Mico paused in the shadows between two buildings to get his bearings—he wasn't too familiar with this part of Kolkata, but had been forced to abandon his normal route because Tyrell's first proclamation had been to double langur patrols across the city.

With eyes darting left and right, he sprinted across the street and slid down a side alley; these covert visits to Temple Gardens were going to get more and more dangerous.

The one thing Mico couldn't do, though, was share his concerns with the rhesus. If they sensed things were slipping out of his control, it would only spread panic.

Papina knew him too well to be deceived. As Mico dropped down onto Hanuman's shoulder, she took one look into his eyes and knew things had gone wrong.

“I warned you,” she said.

“It's all right. I still have sway over him.”

Papina shook her head anxiously. “Not anymore.”

Doubts roared up in Mico's mind, but he wrestled them back down.

“Tyrell still listens to me,” he insisted.

“You're supposed to be his most trusted advisor—look how he just ran rings around you! It'll only get worse.”

Papina hadn't meant it to sound so harsh, and a pang of guilt stung her as she saw Mico wilt under her judgment. She shuffled next to him and with soothing fingers started to groom his fur, gently stroking the back of his neck and scratching his ears.

“You have to get out,” Papina said quietly. “Before it's too late.”

“It's not that easy.”

“I can help.”

Papina clasped his hand and squeezed it—a simple gesture, but for a few moments it made Mico believe that he could find a way through the complex tangle.

A sudden rustle of leaves, the branches bowed and Twitcher dropped onto the statue, startling Mico and Papina, who quickly pulled apart.

Twitcher looked warily from one to the other. “What's going on?”

There was an awkward silence. How long had Twitcher been there? How much had he heard?

“Tyrell's grabbed power. All of it,” Mico said finally, trying to keep things businesslike.

“Not good,” said Twitcher pensively.

“And things may well get worse before they get better.” It was the only spin Mico could think of to explain the wave of renewed langur aggression that was coming.

Twitcher looked down at the hordes of monkeys crowded into the gardens; they occupied every nook and cranny, playing, grooming, idling in the sun, digging for grubs in the shadows.

“It's going to give us a big problem,” Twitcher said grimly. “These gardens are the only safe place for rhesus now. But every day more arrive, from all corners of the city. I don't know how many more we can take.”

“You'll have to find room somehow,” said Mico.

Twitcher examined him closely. “If Tyrell keeps pushing for expansion, sooner or later he's going to find it hard to keep control.”

“Don't underestimate him.”

“Nevertheless, you can't patrol the entire city.”

“Tyrell knows all other monkeys are frightened of the langur. No one dares raise a fist against them.”

“He knows that, does he?” Twitcher nodded. “He knows that….”

Mico and Papina looked at him, waiting for an explanation, but Twitcher just turned and leaped across to the low hanging branch, then vanished into the tree canopy.

A few days later, Breri was on a routine patrol in the city. The langur elites were in good spirits, heading home after an uneventful shift, when suddenly they heard monkey shrieks close by, then the shatter of glass.

Stoneball, the patrol commander, immediately went to battle stations. Homing in on the violent racket, the langurs stalked toward the mouth of a narrow passage. They peered into the gloom, but dusk had cloaked the alley with impenetrable shadows.

“Breri, guard the entrance with Nappo and Mudpaw. The rest, with me, in there,” Stoneball said, pointing into the blackness. “If they get past us, make damn sure they don't get past you,” he said to Breri with a grim smile.

Deploying his monkeys into two files, Stoneball advanced into the alley; Breri watched as they were swallowed by the gloom; then he and the two remaining monkeys spread out and braced themselves.

Suddenly the howling and smashing stopped, leaving an eerie silence. Whoever was down there knew they'd been cornered.

“Those rhesus thugs don't sound so cocky now,” smirked Breri. He strained his ears, trying to pick up a clue about what was happening…and then he heard a weird, shuffling sound, like feet being dragged across cobbles.

Silence again.

Then, without warning, something came flying out of the darkness toward them, a weirdly familiar shape tumbling through the air like a huge rag doll. Breri squinted. It was a monkey. Before he could dodge, the monkey landed at Breri's feet with a breathless slap.

It took him a few moments to recognize Stoneball's face peering through a curtain of blood that streamed from a gash across the top of his head.

“Sir!” Breri gasped as he dropped to his knees to help. He could smell the fear on Stoneball's breath; he wasn't dead yet, but his eyes were rolling in his head.

“Save us…” Stoneball gasped as his head lolled back.

Anger flared up inside Breri. Who had dared ambush an elite patrol?! Quickly laying Stoneball on a doorstep, he ordered Nappo and Mudpaw to follow him into the darkness of the alley.

They advanced slowly, ears alert to every creak and rustle, eyes straining to adjust to the gloom, clubs raised high, ready to lash out.

“Uurrrrrghh…”

It was more of a gasp than a cry for help. And really close by. Breri froze and signaled to the others to stop. In the silence they heard it again, like air bubbling through liquid. Breri looked down and saw shapes on the ground. He raised his club, but something made him hesitate. One of the shapes reached up, and Breri realized that these weren't the enemy, they were langurs. His own patrol were lying battered and bloody, sprawled in the filth of the alley.

“L–look…,” one of them gasped, struggling to breathe through the blood dribbling from his mouth.

“It's all right,” gasped Breri. “We're here now.”

But the trooper gripped Breri tightly, forcing him to listen.

“Look…up…”

Breri gazed up into the grim shadows…and froze as he saw the whites of dozens of monkey eyes staring at him. A shudder of dread ran down his spine; then a guttural shriek tore through the darkness.

“Eeeaaarrr
rugggggghh
hhhh!!!”

It was the sound of malice, bent on destruction.

“GO!” screamed Breri to his troops. “Get them out of here!”

They grabbed their fallen comrades and desperately started to drag them to the mouth of the alley. But it was too late—rocks and debris started raining down on them, glass bottles smashing onto the cobbles all around.

“Don't stop!” yelled Breri to his troops, as with each step he felt the attack intensify—
missiles were thumping into his body, bruising and lacerating.

Don't stop! Don't stop!
Breri knew if he paused even for a moment he would be overwhelmed. He tightened his grip on the blood-sticky arm of the trooper as he dragged him along the ground…trying to blank out the chaos around him, ignoring the pain, focusing only on the light at the end of the alley…desp
erate to escape.

The verbal report was stripped of all grisly details.

“One of our patrols was ambushed. We sustained some casualties” was how General Pogo explained the incident to Lord Tyrell.

“Rhesus!” growled Tyrell darkly.

“They hid in the shadows. Our patrol couldn't see for sure, but who else would attack us?”

“This won't do,” said Tyrell coldly. “It won't do at all.”

“Our soldiers displayed great courage under fire,” said the general, trying to offer up some good news.