فصل 12

chapter 12 king of the monkeys

Early the next morning the lights turned on in Quentin’s cell, signaling the start of a new day. Actually, a new life. A terrible life. Quentin wondered how long he would survive it.

He forced himself from his bed and walked over to the sink. For reasons he didn’t understand he desperately wanted to brush his teeth—a strange desire, considering what was to come. He was shaking so hard, he had trouble holding the brush.

His heart froze when he heard the sharp, synchronized clicks of heavy boot steps coming down the hall, followed by the hiss of his cell door’s pneumatic lock.

The door swung open. Quentin turned to see a guard step inside his cell. He wore the scarlet armband of a Zone Captain, just one level down from an EGG. Behind him was a lower-ranked Squad Captain in the purple Elgen uniform. The men were followed by twelve guards.

Hatch was noticeably absent. Quentin guessed that he was making a point by not being there. He was also making a point by sending a dozen guards when two would have been sufficient. In Quentin’s present, weakened condition, one would have been enough. The guards were wearing dress uniforms, which meant that his internment would be a ceremony of sorts. There would be an audience at his encagement.

The Zone Captain spoke. “Quentin, face me.”

Quentin slowly turned around. Since Cell 25, all his movements seemed slow. He looked the captain in the eyes.

“For acts of treason against Admiral-General Hatch and the Elgen politic, you have been sentenced to life internment in the eastern primate cage of the Hatch Center Square. Guards, take the prisoner.” Six of the guards rushed past the captain and surrounded Quentin. The Squad Captain stepped forward. “You are commanded to disrobe.” Quentin crossed his arms. There was usually humiliation involved in Hatch’s punishment, but he wasn’t going to allow it if possible.

The man looked him over, then smiled darkly. “Defiant? You can undress yourself, or my men will undress you. One way will be painful for you, one won’t, but the end result is the same. I don’t care which you choose.” Quentin took another deep breath, then took off his bright pink jumpsuit. “I never liked pink, anyway,” he said, throwing the garment to the floor.

“. . . And your underwear.”

Quentin bristled. “He’s keeping me naked like the prime minister?” “The Prime Monkey,” the Squad Captain corrected. “No, the general is being more merciful to you. He’s sent you this.” He lifted a loincloth—a simple square of thin brown fabric just slightly smaller than a washcloth. It had two leather straps to hold it to his waist. “Now undress.” Quentin pulled down his underwear. The Squad Captain tossed him the loincloth. Quentin caught it and tied it around his waist. Then he looked back up, his gaze meeting his enemy’s. “Someday I will punish you. You and Hatch.” The Squad Captain laughed. “General Hatch,” he said. “And insanity usually sets in after you’ve been in the monkey cage, not before.” “You’re the insane ones. And you’re following a madman.”

The Squad Captain’s eyes narrowed. “If you don’t think your general is merciful, consider that, unlike Prime Monkey Saluni, you still have your tongue. If you can’t be more judicious with it, I will happily relieve you of its burden.” Quentin glared at him but kept his tongue. Literally. The Squad Captain nodded to the guards, who grabbed Quentin by the arms and cuffed his hands behind his back.

“Elgen guard, deliver the traitor to the square.”

The Funafuti Central Square was a half mile from the prison, and Quentin walked it barefoot and mostly naked. He was glad of just one thing: it was still early morning and there were few out to view his march.

The plaza, now renamed Hatch Center Square, was five acres of smooth, round cobblestone. In the very center, next to a flagpole, workers were erecting a fifty-foot marble column, which would eventually hold a bronze heroic-size statue of General Hatch. The project was behind schedule, and the original project manager had been sent to the rat bowl for incompetence.

On each side of the column was a large metal cage. The first cage Quentin was well aware of, as he’d passed it many times before. In addition to its primate inhabitants, it held the former prime minister Saluni. Attached to the bars of the cage was a metal sign that read: PRIME MONKEY

The procession marched in front of the cage. Saluni was quietly huddled in one corner. He already looked more animal than human. He was pale and ill and had lost enough weight that his ribs seemed to stretch his skin. He was covered with filth and fleas and blood, as he bore dozens of bite marks. He had been attacked by the monkeys, fighting for the alpha position of the cage. The prime minister appeared to have lost. Where he once led a nation, he was now subject to the cage’s largest monkey.

Saluni watched the procession with dull, lifeless eyes, and Quentin quickly turned away from him. Quentin had once mocked the prime minister for his misfortune. Now Quentin could hear the echo of his cruelty returning to him.

As he passed, the tongueless leader let out a loud screech, and Quentin jumped. The pitiful, anguished cry filled him with terror. How long until he too was reduced to an animal?

The guard passed the marble column to a second cage, where a crowd of Tuvaluan natives was gathered. Baskets filled with rotted fruit and vegetables sat on the ground in front of them. It was a smaller crowd than Quentin expected, less than a hundred natives, and he thought they looked nearly as miserable as him. Many of them even looked away from the procession, as if they were embarrassed for him. Quentin had imagined that there would be a larger crowd, eager for revenge. But even those gathered didn’t look as if they wanted to be there. It occurred to him that they’d been brought against their will.

The guards walked Quentin in front of the second cage and paused briefly for him to view it. The cage was filled with capuchin monkeys, who watched the parading humans with curiosity as they swung around on tree branches, whistling and screeching with excitement.

The cage stunk from the monkeys’ droppings, which covered the cage floor. Quentin realized that he had been so worried about the cage itself that he had neglected to consider its occupants. He wondered, for the first time, if the monkeys would attack him.

The guards marched Quentin around to a large platform on the side of the cage. Quentin recognized the platform as the same one he had stood on as Hatch pronounced him king of the Hatch Islands. It was not a coincidence that the same platform was being used, and Hatch would have been pleased that the irony was not lost on Quentin.

There was a door on the side of the cage with a handwritten sign:

QUENTIN THE TRAITOR KING OF THE MONKEYS

An especially large guard stood next to the cage door, with a chain draped over his shoulder and a heavy padlock in his hand. One of the guards unlocked Quentin’s cuffs and took them off.

Then the large guard opened the cage door. “Welcome to your new kingdom,” he said solemnly, reciting the words he’d been assigned. “Rule it well.” Quentin looked warily at the monkeys who were already gathering near the door. He wished that he had Torstyn’s or even Tara’s powers. An EMP would do nothing to monkeys. For the first time ever he wished that he were Michael Vey.

“Go,” the guard said.

In the lunacy of the moment, Quentin’s mind drifted to something he had studied back at the academy: Dante’s Inferno, Canto III.

Through me you pass into the city of woe:

Through me you pass into eternal pain:

Through me among the people lost for aye.

. . .

All hope abandon, ye who enter here.

“All hope abandon,” Quentin mumbled to himself, unable to make himself go any farther.

“Step inside, or I’ll throw you inside,” the guard said gruffly.

Quentin took a deep breath, then walked up to the cage door opening and stepped inside, his bare feet squishing in the monkeys’ feces.

“Your new kingdom,” the guard said again, this time laughing. He shut the door behind Quentin, wrapped the chain around the bars of the gate, and then locked it, slipping the key into his pocket. “By the admiral-general’s orders, though sick or dying, you will never set foot outside of this cage again.” The pronouncement sent chills through Quentin’s body.

The guards, still in formation, stepped down from the platform, and the Zone Captain picked up a megaphone from the side of the cage. “Citizens of Hatch Islands. Before you is a traitor to your country. Show him your displeasure.” The natives showed no displeasure nor interest whatsoever, but just stood there staring.

The Zone Captain lowered the megaphone and shook his head. “Idiots.” He turned to his side. “Squad Captain. Show them the fruit.” The Squad Captain approached the people. “There’s fruit here.”

Still no one moved.

The Zone Captain growled, “Show the people what they’re supposed to do with the fruit.” “Yes, sir.” The Squad Captain walked over to one of the baskets and picked up an overripe tomato. Speaking slowly, he said, “You throw the fruit at the traitor. Like this.” He turned and lobbed the tomato at Quentin, though he missed by at least twelve feet and hit a large, silver-haired capuchin monkey that screeched, then jumped to the opposite side of the cage, climbing the bars to the top.

The Zone Captain shook his head again. “Maybe we should get someone with a better aim.” “Sorry, sir.” The Squad Captain picked up a rotten guava and walked up next to the cage and threw it, hitting Quentin on the calf. Then he walked back to the group, who still showed no interest.

“Now you pick up the fruit and throw it.”

One of the older men stepped forward and lifted a papaya. He looked around, then took a bite of it.

“No!” the Squad Captain shouted. “Don’t eat it! Throw it!”

The man looked at him curiously as he took another bite.

“They’re mocking you,” the Zone Captain said. He grabbed a machine gun from one of the guards and fired it just a few feet above the crowd’s heads. Everyone fell to the ground. “Next time,” he shouted, “I will aim lower! Now throw.” The frightened natives immediately began picking the fruit from the baskets and throwing it at Quentin, who cowered at the back of the cage, covering his face with his arms. Still, only a few pieces of fruit hit their mark. Quentin couldn’t understand why they weren’t trying harder to hit him. After how he’d treated them, why would they show him mercy? Their lack of resentment was completely foreign to him.

After the baskets were empty, the Zone Captain angrily dismissed the crowd, which quickly vanished. All of the guards, except the one assigned to the cage, marched back to their posts. The ceremony was over. Only Admiral-General Hatch, who was watching the ceremony on a security screen in his office, and the monkeys found the event amusing.