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Dan burst from the cockpit like a shot, his face pale and tight with panic. “Run!” he shouted, his voice bouncing off the metallic walls of the passenger cabin. “All of you—Steve, now! I set the destruct!” He grabbed the nearest support rail to steady himself and gasped for breath. “There’s something out there—outside the cockpit. It’s not just a guard dog or some ape patrol—it’s…it’s like a dog, but not. Huge. Wrong. Its face—" he shuddered, visibly shaking off the memory, "—it looked right at me through the glass, like it knew what I was doing.”
Nova whimpered and backed away, huddling close to Valerie. “That’s what she meant,” Dan said, gesturing to the cavegirl. “That’s what she was trying to warn us about. It’s real—and it’s close. Go!”
As the castaways and Nova spilled out of the Spindrift’s hatch, their feet hit the cracked clay of the dry riverbed and they froze—every one of them—as the thing emerged from behind a jagged outcropping of rock. The creature moved low and fast, its massive limbs padded but powerful, its skin a stretched, rubbery pallor mottled with dark patches. Its head was grotesquely out of proportion—canine in shape but missing all the familiar softness of a dog’s features. Its eyes were black slits, sunken and unblinking. Saliva dripped from the corners of its half-open mouth, and its jagged, uneven teeth—razor-sharp and stained a sickly yellow—jutted at odd angles like shards of broken glass. A low, rattling growl pulsed from its throat as it advanced, hackles bristling like porcupine quills.
"Good Lord," Mark breathed, backing toward the others. "There's no way we’re outrunning that."
"It’ll be on us before we’re halfway across," Dan said grimly, gripping a length of metal conduit he'd picked up earlier.
Nova let out a sharp cry and huddled close to Valerie. “No more warnings,” Fitzhugh muttered, eyes wide. “I say it’s time we give the beast something to chew on!”
Steve raised his voice over the rising growl. “We stand together—everyone grab what you can. We make our stand here!”
In the next moment, the castaways scrambled for whatever they could find—broken branches, jagged stones—bracing themselves to fight off the mutant thing that had emerged from the Forbidden Zone like a nightmare made real.
With a collective shout of desperation, they hurled their makeshift weapons—stones, sticks, shattered debris—at the advancing mutant beast. Mark’s chunk of broken plastic bounced harmlessly off its thick hide. Dan drove a jagged pole into the dirt in front of it, hoping to slow it down. Valerie flung a rock with all her strength, only for it to glance off the creature’s broad snout, eliciting nothing but a guttural snarl. Fitzhugh’s branch snapped in half midair. Even Steve, who hurled a length of conduit like a spear, saw it strike and fall without so much as a flinch from the beast.
"It’s not working!" Betty cried, shielding Nova as the monster lumbered forward, mouth opening wider to reveal those horrifying, splintered fangs.
Suddenly, Nova shoved free from Valerie’s grasp and scrambled atop a rock. She pointed with one arm, eyes wide and filled with urgency. “Uhn! Uhn!”
All eyes followed her outstretched finger. Set into the cliff face, half-hidden behind a curtain of scrub and shadow, was a narrow cave mouth—jagged-edged and low, but big enough. Just big enough.
"Go!" Steve barked. "Everyone, move—now!"
Without hesitation, they ran for it, the echo of the beast’s pounding limbs closing in behind them as they dove toward the only chance of escape.
Valerie ran with the others, sprinting across the scorching, cracked floor of the dry riverbed, heart pounding, lungs on fire. The others scrambled into the mouth of the cave ahead of her, Steve waving frantically, calling for her to hurry. She was nearly there—just a few yards left—when a jagged edge of rock snagged something at her back.
She jerked forward, but something held her fast.
Her eyes widened in horror.
The harness.
She’d forgotten all about it—forgotten the makeup kit strapped to the outside pouch. It had caught on the jutting lip of stone like a claw, yanking her to a sudden halt. She twisted, yanked at the strap, fingers slipping over the buckle. Behind her, a low, rasping growl rose from the scorched earth.
The mutant beast had spotted her.
Its nose lifted. The air shimmered with the heat of its breath. And it began to creep forward on its distorted limbs, long and loping, teeth glistening beneath sun-dark gums, each step deliberate. It was savoring the kill.
Valerie struggled harder, twisting, clawing at the snagged strap. “Come on, come on!” she whispered, more to herself than the stubborn harness.
Betty screamed her name. Mark started to climb out of the cave mouth, but Steve yanked him back.
Then, with one final wrench, the strap gave way. Valerie tumbled forward, half-running, half-crawling the last few feet and diving headlong into the cave just as the monster lunged—
—but too late.
Dust and gravel exploded at the entrance as the creature skidded to a stop, its grotesque head snapping upward in frustration, its rancid breath steaming the rock as Valerie, shaking, pressed herself against the cave wall, gasping.
The monster loomed outside, prowling, but the cave was narrow—too tight for its bulk.
For now.
Inside the narrow cave, the castaways crouched in the dim light, the air thick with fear and heat. The monster's snarls and gnashing teeth echoed just outside, growing louder with each frenzied bite at the entrance. Dust filtered down from above as the very rock that had delayed Valerie now became their greatest vulnerability.
"It's breaking through," Dan said grimly, watching small stones crumble from the jagged opening. "That thing's chewing the rock like it’s paper."
"And it's going faster now," Betty added, her voice tight with panic. "It’s not going to take long before it’s through."
“But that’s not even the worst of it,” Steve said, eyes locked on the cave mouth but clearly thinking beyond it. “The Spindrift—its self-destruct timer. We’ve got, what, five minutes left? Six tops?”
"Terrific," Fitzhugh muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead. "We get eaten alive or blown to pieces. Such charming options.”
Mark leaned forward, calculating, voice low and steady. “If we run now, we might get far enough from the ship to survive the blast—but that thing’s right outside.”
“And if we stay here,” Valerie said, breathing hard, “the shockwave will reach us when the ship blows. This cave won’t protect us from that. Not this close.”
Nova, huddled next to Betty, whimpered and glanced between their faces, instinctively understanding the tension. She didn’t speak, but the way she looked to Steve showed she trusted him to act.
Steve nodded to himself. “We’ve got one chance. We need a distraction—something to draw that thing away just long enough for us to make a run for it.”
Dan looked toward the entrance. “Then we better do it fast. Because we’re out of time—on both fronts.”
The castaways exchanged quick, anxious glances. Two problems. No good solutions. And only moments left to decide.
Outside the cave, the mutant beast tore into the crumbling rock with mounting frenzy, its massive jaws working like twin battering rams powered by hunger and rage. Each time its mouth opened, rows of jagged, yellowed fangs gleamed in the desert sun—teeth not meant for killing, but for obliterating. With guttural, breathy growls, it bit deep into the porous stone, wrenching out chunks the size of a man’s head and spitting them aside like useless gristle.
Slaver poured from its mouth in thick strands, glistening on its muzzle as it pressed closer, snout jamming into the opening, determined to get at the warm, cowering prey inside. The cave shuddered with each blow of its weight and fury. Stone cracked. Dust rained down. A low rumble vibrated through the floor like a warning drumbeat.
The monster’s nostrils flared, catching the scent of fear and flesh. Its next bite sent a section of rock tumbling away, revealing a sliver of shadowed movement within. It let out a sharp, barking growl—a sound of triumph—and lunged again, its dinner nearly within reach.
Fitzhugh’s eyes suddenly widened, and he snapped his fingers with a sharp, panicked grin. “Wait—wait! I’ve got something! Steve, in the bag—my toolkit! The blue one with the double clasp. There’s a screwdriver in there—only it’s not a screwdriver.”
Steve turned to him sharply, half crouched behind the others, trying to shield Nova and Valerie from the crumbling entrance.
“A what?” he hissed.
Fitzhugh nodded furiously, sweat streaking the dirt on his forehead. “Third compartment from the left, under the false bottom. Looks like a screwdriver, yes, but it’s actually a Class-4 micro-laser. Low yield, but it'll sting that monster. It won’t kill the brute, but it’ll singe his tail and buy us time.”
Steve was already reaching for the bag, dragging it across the cave floor. “You never mentioned a laser,” he muttered.
Fitzhugh snorted. “Didn’t think we’d be cornered in a cave with a mutant mastiff chewing through the wall!”
“How does it work?”
“Press the handle’s cap and twist it clockwise till it hums. Aim carefully, unless you want to burn a hole in one of us.”
Steve found the device—sleek, metallic, and deceptively ordinary-looking. He gave Fitzhugh a grim nod, then rose slowly to his feet, laser in hand, as the monster tore another boulder loose with a deafening crunch.
Steve flattened himself against the jagged stone wall to the right of the cave entrance, the makeshift laser clenched tightly in his hand. From his angle, he could just make out the silhouettes of the others pressed against the rear wall—Dan shielding Valerie and Betty, Mark gripping a rock, Fitzhugh crouched low, one arm around Nova. Only inches now separated them from the snapping, thrusting muzzle of the monster. Its hot breath blasted into the cave in gusts that reeked of rot and death. One lunge, one misstep, and the beast would be inside.
He shifted carefully, trying to get the clearest shot he could without stepping into view. The beast's head darted back and forth, ripping at the crumbling rock, dislodging chunks that tumbled inside and bounced across the floor. Steve swore under his breath. Each time the brute lunged forward, the cave mouth filled with its massive snout and slavering jaws. No shot. The beam might ricochet—or worse, miss entirely. He needed just one clean moment.
Then the chance came. The monster reared slightly to shake loose a larger fragment of stone, jaws agape, exposing its thick, veined neck and the jut of a blood-matted shoulder. Steve tightened his grip on the laser’s handle, twisted it clockwise. A sharp hum vibrated up his arm—the weapon coming to life. He recalled Fitzhugh’s warning, aimed with cold precision, and pressed the cap.
A shaft of searing blue-white energy lanced forward with a sizzling hiss. The beam struck true, carving into the beast’s shoulder with a sudden flash of light and a sound like steam exploding from a kettle. The creature shrieked in rage and agony, jerking back from the cave mouth, its yowl echoing off the rocky wall like a banshee’s wail. Steve ducked aside as rubble rained down, but he didn’t stop aiming—the next shot already humming in his hands.
The laser beam burned deep into the monster’s flank, slicing through hide and sinew with surgical intensity. A gout of reddish-black blood erupted from the wound, spraying the air in thick, arcing streams. The liquid shimmered bizarrely in the desert sunlight, casting eerie crimson patterns across the cave mouth and the rocks beyond—like a grotesque light show conjured in the heart of a nightmare.
The creature shrieked again, a wild, warbling howl of pain and confusion. It reared back from the cave, massive paws flailing at its wounded side, raking its own flesh in its frenzy. As it thrashed, blood flew in looping bursts, drenching the rocks and scattering like mist over the canyon.
"Now!" Steve shouted.
Without hesitation, the castaways surged from the cave, darting under and through the gory curtain. The surreal spray of blood gave them perfect cover—masking their shapes and scent in the monster’s wounded rage. It didn’t even see them go, its eyes clouded with pain, its howls drowning out the sound of their footsteps as they bolted across the dry riverbed toward safety. For one breathless moment, they had slipped past the beast—and it didn’t even know they were gone.
Seconds later, the illusion of safety shattered with a deafening roar.
The monster, stung into greater fury by the searing pain of its wound, wheeled around with terrifying speed. Its massive form surged forward from the cave, a juggernaut of muscle and rage. The castaways were already running—scattering across the dry riverbed, their feet pounding over loose gravel and jagged stones, lungs heaving in panic.
Behind them came the beast.
Its paws struck the ground like thunder, each impact sending up thick clouds of dust that swirled and billowed into the air. Rocks cracked and splintered beneath its weight. Its grotesque mouth was wide open now, revealing rows of glistening, razor-sharp teeth, jagged like broken glass. The wound in its side still wept thick streams of blood, but the agony only made it faster, more determined. The monster’s limited mind had made a simple connection—these small, flailing creatures were the cause of its pain. And it would not stop until that pain was repaid in kind.
“Don’t look back!” Steve shouted hoarsely. “Just keep running!”
They obeyed, every muscle screaming as they dodged boulders and leapt dry crevices, the deafening beat of the creature’s pursuit always a few heartbeats behind. The earth itself seemed to tremble with each thunderous step of the monster’s charge—and they knew they were only one stumble away from being devoured.
One by one, the castaways reached the far side of the dry riverbed, lungs burning, hearts pounding, sweat pouring into their eyes. Each clutched their burden—precious components, tools, even the microfilm reel—hauling it like treasure across a battlefield. Nova, panting but determined, kept pace, her bare feet nimble over the stones as she balanced a salvaged satchel across her back.
As they scrambled up the far embankment, clawing at loose sand and jutting rock, a shadow swept over them. The monster was upon them.
With a final, terrible lunge, the beast launched itself toward the top of the slope—but its strength failed. Blood still gushed from the blackened wound in its side, staining the ground beneath it. The bulk of its body struck the slope, claws gouging furrows in the dirt as it slipped back down. Its snapping jaws missed Valerie’s foot by inches, and a guttural howl of frustration tore from its throat.
For a long moment, it thrashed and writhed, trying to rise, to pursue again—but the fire was gone from its limbs. Its bloodied muzzle quivered; its strength was spent. With a low, broken whimper, it turned away, retreating in staggering steps, limping back across the scorched riverbed toward the shattered remnants of its lair.
"Phew!" Steve gasped, bending over with his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. "That was way too close!"
Dust swirled around them, the scorched earth still trembling from the retreat of the monster. Behind them, the Spindrift lay hidden by heat shimmer and distance—silent, seconds from destruction. Ahead, the rocky slope beckoned them forward into whatever came next.
"Speaking of close," Dan said, straightening up and cocking his head toward the dry riverbed, "listen to that!"
Just over the small hill behind them they could hear the sound of trucks laboring through loose sand and dirt and the clank made by the steel treads of the apes' tanks.
"Come, let's get moving," Steve urged them.
The seven people climbed a line of rocks that led away from the dry riverbed.
A half-second later, the earth beneath their feet gave a low, rumbling shudder. Then, with a thunderous WHUMP that echoed off the canyon walls, a brilliant flash lit up the sky behind them—followed by a concussive blast of heat and wind that knocked dust and small rocks loose from the cliffs. The Spindrift was gone, obliterated in a rising cloud of smoke and fire.
"That was it," Steve said grimly, watching the mushroom of dust boil upward. "She's gone."32Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtBWfq4SB1h
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The command car crested the ridge with a metallic snarl, its treads grinding into the sandy slope as it came to a stop with military precision. Dust swirled in the vehicle’s wake, half-obscuring the figures of Dr. Zaius and General Urko standing tall in the open top. Zaius shaded his eyes against the lowering sun, while Urko squinted, jaw clenched beneath his wide simian muzzle.
Then, through the haze and heat, the thing emerged.
The monster dragged itself across the cracked earth, its massive frame staggering, one forelimb nearly useless and dragging behind it. Streams of blood—unnatural and thick—flowed from seared, torn flesh, glistening dark in the golden light. Its head lifted with one last defiant roar, jaws gaping, as if it meant to die cursing the sky. The sound—half-beast, half-nightmare—sent birds flapping out of the canyon shadows.
Zaius took a step back. "By the Lawgiver..." he breathed.
Urko instinctively reached for the rifle slung across his chest. "What is that thing?" he barked. “It’s not any animal I’ve ever hunted. Is this what’s hiding in your Forbidden Zone, Zaius?”
Zaius didn’t answer. He stared at the creature with something that flickered between horror and dawning comprehension.
From behind the line of boulders less than a hundred yards away, the castaways held their breath. Steve raised one hand, silently urging the others to stay low. Nova clung to Betty’s side, trembling.
The monster raised itself to its full, grotesque height. Blood poured from it in rivulets. It looked directly at the command car—then collapsed with a sound like a felled tree, its enormous body hitting the sand and rocks in a lifeless sprawl.
Zaius took one final, measured breath. "Well, general," he said, "there's your Unidentified Flying Object! Fur, teeth, and all! And not a sign of a humanoid---talking or otherwise---anywhere."
"The ship must have exploded when it landed..." Urko snarled, his dark eyes narrowing beneath the rim of his helmet. His gloved hand clenched around the rail of the command car, the knuckles taut with restrained fury. "They must have escaped... scattered into the Forbidden Zone like vermin."
"General," Zaius said, his tone edged with calculated calm, "not even one of your soldiers—your personal guard, even—could survive over there with that monster. Much less a humanoid!"
He gestured toward the dry riverbed where the grotesque beast still twitched in the dust, its massive form torn and bloodied, steam rising from its wounds. The thing's last ragged breath hissed out like a leaking bellows, and it moved no more.
"Well," Urko asked, unwilling to give up, "what about that explosion just before we got here? What was that?"
"Just another Forbidden Zone illusion, Urko. No more, nor any less, impressive than any of the others we've seen since entering the Zone. And also, no more significant."
Urko’s growl rumbled low in his throat. “I want every inch of this place searched.”
“And what then, General?” Zaius asked quietly, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. “Suppose you find nothing but dust?”
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The seven fugitives—Steve, Dan, Valerie, Betty, Mark, Fitzhugh, and Nova—collapsed behind a jagged ridge of shale and sand, panting hard. The noon sun beat down like a hammer, but none of them seemed to notice. Five minutes of desperate scrambling from rock to rock, ducking low beneath ledges and leaping across gullies, had finally taken them out of the apes’ line of sight. Now they crouched in the dusty shade, lungs heaving, throats dry, and hearts still pounding from the near miss.
Steve rested a hand on his knees, sweat dripping from his chin. “That… was too close. Again.”
Dan wiped grit from his forehead. “If we get out of this alive, remind me to take up a quieter hobby. Like shark wrestling.”
Fitzhugh flopped down theatrically, dust blooming around him. “And to think—I could’ve stayed on Earth and enjoyed a perfectly respectable prison sentence.”
Valerie glanced back the way they came, shielding her eyes from the glare. “Do you think the apes saw us?”
“No,” Mark said. “But they’re going to tear that riverbed apart looking for clues.”
Nova sat apart from the others, hugging her knees and staring back in the direction of the Spindrift. Her wide eyes were unreadable, but the tension in her shoulders told them enough—she wasn’t certain they were safe yet.
Steve turned to the others. “Alright, let’s not waste time. We’re not out of the woods yet. We keep heading northwest, stay low, and find cover before nightfall. If Zaius and Urko spread their patrols, they’ll have this whole sector crawling with scouts.”
Dan nodded grimly. “Then we stay ahead of them. Like before.”
Nova rose to her feet slowly, watching Steve. She didn't understand all the words, but the urgency in his voice was clear enough.
Steve gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re doing great, Nova. Just stick close.”
Together, the seven turned and moved off again, shadows stretching behind them across the harsh terrain. The game of survival—of cat and mouse—was far from over.
Steve stood silently at the edge of the rock outcropping, breathing hard from the climb, his gaze fixed on the horizon behind them where the hills now blotted out any sign of the ruined riverbed—and the grave of the Spindrift. The wind tugged at his shirt, hot and dry, but he didn’t move.
“If we ever get Barry back from the Underfolk,” he said quietly, “I’m going to have to tell him.”
Valerie looked up, brushing a smudge of dirt from her cheek. “Tell him what?”
Steve didn’t answer right away. His jaw worked, his eyes still locked on the horizon. Finally, he turned toward the group, his face grim.
Steve swallowed hard, as if the dust in the wind had suddenly thickened. He glanced down at his hands, still trembling from the adrenaline, then up at the others, all watching him in silence. Nova stood nearby, eyes wide and searching his face for meaning she couldn't quite understand.
“There’s something else,” he said, his voice low. “Something I didn’t want to believe when I saw it... but I have to say it now.”
They gathered around him, frowns deepening.
“When I fired the laser,” Steve continued, “I got a good look at its side. Just below the fur—burned into the skin—was a brand. One letter.”
He paused. Fitzhugh’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “A brand?”
Steve nodded. “A capital ‘C.’”
“A ‘C’?” Dan echoed. “What would that mean?”
Steve looked grim. “You all remember that by 1978, pet ownership was officially outlawed. Too many viral cross-species outbreaks. Stray populations exploded. Most dogs and cats were euthanized by law. But some people—people who couldn’t let go—kept them illegally. If the authorities found them, they were taken, tagged... branded. The letter indicated the pet’s name for cross-checking in government files.”
Valerie’s voice trembled. “You’re saying…?”
Steve’s voice cracked slightly as he finished. “Barry’s dog. His beagle. His name was Chipper.”
Gasps rippled through the group. Even Fitzhugh didn’t speak.
Steve nodded. “The creature that nearly killed us—that monster—it wasn’t always like that. Somehow, through whatever the Underfolk or this land did to him, that... thing was Barry Lockridge’s best friend.”
The silence that followed was absolute—save for the distant, fading whimper of something far too broken to remember what it once was.
Dan frowned, his eyes scanning the distant hills. “I don’t think it was the Underfolk—more likely, there’s some kind of radiation out here that mutates dogs faster than it affects us.”
Valerie’s voice trembled as she stared back toward the dry riverbed. “It’s our fault,” she said quietly. “We made Barry let Chipper go. We told him it was the only way. Maybe if we hadn’t—maybe if we’d found another way—”
“No,” Steve cut in firmly, his voice laced with weariness but conviction. “That was the day we landed. We didn’t even know where we were yet, let alone what would happen. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. We did what we had to do to survive.”
Mark turned, his gaze sweeping across the scorched expanse of the Forbidden Zone, and said quietly, “At least we got the most valuable gear out of the Spindrift—what we came for.”
Valerie, brushing dust from her face, added with a tired smile, “And we’re still breathing. Right now, that counts for a lot.”
Dan gave a quick glance over his shoulder and muttered, “We’re all still alive and moving—which we’d better keep doing unless we want front-row seats at an ape welcoming party.”
Dan gave a quick glance over his shoulder and muttered, “We’re all still alive and moving—which we’d better keep doing unless we want front-row seats at an ape welcoming party.”
