Chapter Fourteen:
I left the shack, and just walked alone in the woods for a while. It's not something I get to do often, or even something I want to do very often. I guess I needed to rest a little before morphing wolf, but it was more than that. There was just something soothing about the huge solemnity of the brooding forest. Despite everything around me, I felt amazingly peaceful. Cassie was tied up in a shack, possibly with an alien slug in her head, being watched by a blue horse-boy, while hundreds of kids were signing up to be the slaves of slimy aliens by learning to drive. And I was walking through the woods, enjoying the quiet.
Calm before the storm, I guess.
Eventually, I morphed wolf, and began running through the forest towards the barn. It wasn't a panicked run. Wolves can just lope along for hours in a smooth, controlled motion that gets them where they're going without even thinking about it.
After living or dying by a two-hour clock for a while, you get pretty good at telling how long two hours is. I had been in morph for about an hour and a half when I reached the edge of the woods. I demorphed. I had found the run restful, and easily morphed to osprey.
I was airborne long before I started thinking again. I had been mostly running on autopilot to get out of the forest. Now, I had time to consider the situation we were in.
Nothing had changed. Except we were at least two team members short in whatever insane stunt we decided to try.
There were still over thirty infestation trucks (if that was what they were) driving around. Ironically, I could see over seventeen similar white trucks on the roads beneath me at that moment. Not all of them were Yeerk trucks. But I was willing to lay down odds that at least one was.
The first day of Cassie's three days was already over. Whatever happened for the next two days, Cassie couldn't be involved in any missions, and somebody would need to watch her. That left four of us to do whatever had to be done. I knew Jake was not likely to do anything until we were all sure Cassie was not a Controller. But I had this nervous feeling at the back of my mind, like a piece of something at the back of your mouth that rubs against your palate but you just can't get out. It itched at me, put off-balance.
Well, Marco, I muttered, that doesn't make any sense at all. Cassie could very well be a Controller and there are hundreds of kids getting slugs put in their heads at Driver's Ed. Oh, and each kid with a slug is out to kill you, personally. What do have to be you nervous about?
Talking to yourself again, Marco?
Tobias would have laughed at me for not looking above me every couple seconds. In the air, you can't afford not to have three-sixty vision. Attacks come from above as well as beside and below. I hadn't even seen the bald eagle that hovered maybe twenty feet over me.
Hi, Rachel.
Hi. So, you're nervous?
I considered denying it. But, then, what was the point? I had a right to feel nervous. It was my role as an Animorph to feel nervous. When I was nervous, everybody else felt braver, because I appeared to be the only one scared enough to whine about things. Yup. Sure am.
Do you want help on your watch? Worried that she'll get loose when you're distracted?
It's not that, I said. It's just . . . well, it's just that the whole situation stinks. We've got Yeerks driving around, Cassie and her appointed watchdog out of commission, not enough time and too much to do.
Yeah, mused Rachel. If only we could get all the trucks to park somewhere, then rig the lot to blow. Maybe one of those big, busy truck stops. We could probably steal dynamite from somewhere.
I cocked my head up and to the left to look at her.
It was a joke, she added, after dropping a little altitude.
I wasn't totally convinced of that. There's my house. Gotta dive, I said.
The good thing is, whatever happens, the whole mess will be over in two days.
Yeah, I said. That's the good thing. I folded my wings and dropped like a feathered stone.
The conversation had not alleviated my uneasiness. In fact, the feeling had only intensified.
I hung out for the rest of the day with my dad. I did some homework, he ran to the store to grab some essentials of life -chocolate, peanut butter, cookies, all the standard necessities. But for the most part we were in the same room, watching TV, talking, laughing. It felt really good. Normal, you know? Normality isn't something I get that often.
My dad and I were laughing over a joke I had just cracked about a news anchorman when I looked at my watch. Three-thirty. I stopped laughing. I would probably be late for my shift by the time I got up to the shack.
"Dad, I gotta go," I said, standing.
He stopped mid-chuckle. "What?"
"I'm going to go out for awhile. Shoot some hoops."
He was puzzled by my sudden change in attitude. "Okay," he faltered. "Want to play one-on-one with the old man?"
I cursed, mentally. How was I supposed to respond to that? "Absolutely," I said. "But I was actually going to challenge this dork who's been bragging all over the court, recently. I am so going to knock him down."
"Hey, great!" he said. "I'll come and watch!" He switched off the TV, and looked around for his shoes.
The thing that really made this hard was that my dad wasn't being a tag- along or a pain. He just wanted to hang out with me. He was being cool about it, and I felt incredibly guilty.
"Dad," I said, "that'd be excellent. But the guy's a total jerk. If you showed up, he'd insist on playing two-on-one against us. I need to prove I can slam him by myself."
He bought it. "Man to man," he said knowingly. "You got it. Well, take mental pictures, because I want a blow-by-blow when you get back."
If my dad had been more difficult about the whole thing, I would have been able to be annoyed with him, and then I wouldn't feel so bad. But he wasn't. He was being the same great guy he always is.
"Yeah," I said. "Sure."
I left the house, and just ran for a few blocks. I wished I were just going to the basketball court. I wanted to play one-on-one with my dad. I wanted to tell my dad the truth. I would have given anything to only be dealing with bragging jerks instead of mind-robbing aliens.
I hoped my pounding heart would pump away my guilt. When and if this war ever ends, I am going to ask my dad's forgiveness for every lie I told him.
I reached the alley, scrambled into a dumpster, and began to morph.
I left the shack, and just walked alone in the woods for a while. It's not something I get to do often, or even something I want to do very often. I guess I needed to rest a little before morphing wolf, but it was more than that. There was just something soothing about the huge solemnity of the brooding forest. Despite everything around me, I felt amazingly peaceful. Cassie was tied up in a shack, possibly with an alien slug in her head, being watched by a blue horse-boy, while hundreds of kids were signing up to be the slaves of slimy aliens by learning to drive. And I was walking through the woods, enjoying the quiet.
Calm before the storm, I guess.
Eventually, I morphed wolf, and began running through the forest towards the barn. It wasn't a panicked run. Wolves can just lope along for hours in a smooth, controlled motion that gets them where they're going without even thinking about it.
After living or dying by a two-hour clock for a while, you get pretty good at telling how long two hours is. I had been in morph for about an hour and a half when I reached the edge of the woods. I demorphed. I had found the run restful, and easily morphed to osprey.
I was airborne long before I started thinking again. I had been mostly running on autopilot to get out of the forest. Now, I had time to consider the situation we were in.
Nothing had changed. Except we were at least two team members short in whatever insane stunt we decided to try.
There were still over thirty infestation trucks (if that was what they were) driving around. Ironically, I could see over seventeen similar white trucks on the roads beneath me at that moment. Not all of them were Yeerk trucks. But I was willing to lay down odds that at least one was.
The first day of Cassie's three days was already over. Whatever happened for the next two days, Cassie couldn't be involved in any missions, and somebody would need to watch her. That left four of us to do whatever had to be done. I knew Jake was not likely to do anything until we were all sure Cassie was not a Controller. But I had this nervous feeling at the back of my mind, like a piece of something at the back of your mouth that rubs against your palate but you just can't get out. It itched at me, put off-balance.
Well, Marco, I muttered, that doesn't make any sense at all. Cassie could very well be a Controller and there are hundreds of kids getting slugs put in their heads at Driver's Ed. Oh, and each kid with a slug is out to kill you, personally. What do have to be you nervous about?
Talking to yourself again, Marco?
Tobias would have laughed at me for not looking above me every couple seconds. In the air, you can't afford not to have three-sixty vision. Attacks come from above as well as beside and below. I hadn't even seen the bald eagle that hovered maybe twenty feet over me.
Hi, Rachel.
Hi. So, you're nervous?
I considered denying it. But, then, what was the point? I had a right to feel nervous. It was my role as an Animorph to feel nervous. When I was nervous, everybody else felt braver, because I appeared to be the only one scared enough to whine about things. Yup. Sure am.
Do you want help on your watch? Worried that she'll get loose when you're distracted?
It's not that, I said. It's just . . . well, it's just that the whole situation stinks. We've got Yeerks driving around, Cassie and her appointed watchdog out of commission, not enough time and too much to do.
Yeah, mused Rachel. If only we could get all the trucks to park somewhere, then rig the lot to blow. Maybe one of those big, busy truck stops. We could probably steal dynamite from somewhere.
I cocked my head up and to the left to look at her.
It was a joke, she added, after dropping a little altitude.
I wasn't totally convinced of that. There's my house. Gotta dive, I said.
The good thing is, whatever happens, the whole mess will be over in two days.
Yeah, I said. That's the good thing. I folded my wings and dropped like a feathered stone.
The conversation had not alleviated my uneasiness. In fact, the feeling had only intensified.
I hung out for the rest of the day with my dad. I did some homework, he ran to the store to grab some essentials of life -chocolate, peanut butter, cookies, all the standard necessities. But for the most part we were in the same room, watching TV, talking, laughing. It felt really good. Normal, you know? Normality isn't something I get that often.
My dad and I were laughing over a joke I had just cracked about a news anchorman when I looked at my watch. Three-thirty. I stopped laughing. I would probably be late for my shift by the time I got up to the shack.
"Dad, I gotta go," I said, standing.
He stopped mid-chuckle. "What?"
"I'm going to go out for awhile. Shoot some hoops."
He was puzzled by my sudden change in attitude. "Okay," he faltered. "Want to play one-on-one with the old man?"
I cursed, mentally. How was I supposed to respond to that? "Absolutely," I said. "But I was actually going to challenge this dork who's been bragging all over the court, recently. I am so going to knock him down."
"Hey, great!" he said. "I'll come and watch!" He switched off the TV, and looked around for his shoes.
The thing that really made this hard was that my dad wasn't being a tag- along or a pain. He just wanted to hang out with me. He was being cool about it, and I felt incredibly guilty.
"Dad," I said, "that'd be excellent. But the guy's a total jerk. If you showed up, he'd insist on playing two-on-one against us. I need to prove I can slam him by myself."
He bought it. "Man to man," he said knowingly. "You got it. Well, take mental pictures, because I want a blow-by-blow when you get back."
If my dad had been more difficult about the whole thing, I would have been able to be annoyed with him, and then I wouldn't feel so bad. But he wasn't. He was being the same great guy he always is.
"Yeah," I said. "Sure."
I left the house, and just ran for a few blocks. I wished I were just going to the basketball court. I wanted to play one-on-one with my dad. I wanted to tell my dad the truth. I would have given anything to only be dealing with bragging jerks instead of mind-robbing aliens.
I hoped my pounding heart would pump away my guilt. When and if this war ever ends, I am going to ask my dad's forgiveness for every lie I told him.
I reached the alley, scrambled into a dumpster, and began to morph.