Wow.

Been a long time.

To make a long story short, I went through one of those true "writer's block" episodes...most of the ideas I could come up with were any good. I'd jot down a note, realize it sucks, and toss it in the trash.

Well, we're going to move on whether we have a good idea or not.

Chapter 17: Jay

"Make more of them."

Man, that's a real cold phrase for you, in that context.

It got me thinking.

It's a mad, mad, mad world out there. It's really amazing how everything pans out the same way.

Remember back around the end of 1999, when the new millenium was about to start? Everything was wild back then. Doomsday cults, looters. Lots of psychos around back then. The stories were all over the newspaper. But there was one little article that caught my eye.

I don't remember the figure exactly, but the general gist of the article was an interesting statistic: Over the past 1,000 years, the human race has seen around 160 days without a war happening somewhere.

That's a little over 5 months. The other 11,995 months had someone actually kill someone else because a third party (be it a government, religious group, or whatever) told them to. That's nearly 2,400 to 1. For every minute of peace, we'll have 40 hours of war.

[Is that true?]

[I think so. I believed it.]

You got your Israelis and your Palestinians. Your English and your Northern Irish. Your Russians and your Chechens.

Everyone's killing everybody.

Even me.

[You know what, Jay?]

[No. What?]

[Let's go play cards. We have a few hours before we're going to "transfer" the Hork-Bajir.]

[I'm in no mood to play. I'll throw off a lot of chips. I'm better off just going home and relaxing.]

There was a pause, as if Forsil was trying to say something.

[Jay, let me replay a memory. An important one.]

[Hell no.]

[Not THAT one. The one that happened just a little while ago. When I first moved in.]

Could I really refuse?

* * *

"Do you accept full responsibility of taking on the challenges and the sacrifices needed to become a member of the Sharing?" Chapman was saying.

"Sure, I guess so," I replied. Why not? A friend of mine had mentioned the club to me, offhand, when I originally confessed that I wanted to meet some people without the intention of "redistributing" their money (into my pocket).

Come to think of it, he hadn't joined. He just knew about it because some flyers were going around. Whatever The Sharing was, it certainly was big on publicity. Maybe it was an organization that was run by a rich family, and they needed new blood.

In so many ways, my guess hadn't been far off from the truth.

"All right. Come with me," Chapman replied. We walked down the stairs, and as we went further down, I could definitely make out some noises resembling screams.

Yes. Screams.

"Um, what's going on?" I asked. "It sounds like someone's being tortured."

He laughed, somewhat cynically. "Nothing to worry about, Jay," Chapman replied, patting me on the back. "At any rate, we're almost there."

What are they, watching a horror movie down there or something?

Once we reached the bottom of the dark stairs, I could definitely tell that the screams were real, human, and yet...there were some screamers that were not human.

"What are those green things?!" I asked, trying not to panic.

"Those? Oh, don't worry about them. They're harmless."

I play poker for a living. I'm good at noticing things. I noticed this: Creatures with blades up and down their body are not supposed to be harmless.

Chapman then proceeded to explain to me what being a member of the Sharing meant. How I would have to be a host to a Yeerk. He then tried to tempt me with promises of fame, power, glory, and money.

Apparently I'm supposed to allow myself to be a pawn in the conquest of the human race.

One thing I always prided myself on when I play poker is I play it straight. No cheating. Nothing crooked. Just playing my best, and winning fair and square.

I don't want to literally sell my soul to these people. Sure, I take money from people for a living, but it's HONEST nonetheless.

I started running as fast as I could. The problem? They were ready for this.

Chapman then got out a whistle, blew it, and several of those green monsters appeared out of nowhere and grabbed me. They then dragged me to the pool, and dunked my head in. Of course, I struggled against them, but it didn't take a genius to discover that even one of the blade monsters was more than a match for me.

Forsil then entered my head, slowly paralyzing me until I couldn't even move my eyes. I could still breathe, speak, and move, and it was the Yeerk that was doing it for me. I was completely helpless, completely powerless to stop her.

[ A gambler? How odd. ] she mused, opening my memories. [ Well, it's a change from the last human, I suppose. I'm Forsil 326, very high ranking and respected in the Yeerk Empire. I'd advise you not to resist me, because it simply can not be done. ]

She said that last part with incredible arrogance.

[ Great. There's an alien in my head, ] was all I could think of to say. Then, I tried once more to fight her for control. I almost had it, almost could move my eyes, when Forsil stopped me.

[ I don't think so, human, ] she snapped, pressing down in my mind. [ In fact, I think I'll have to show you why you *shouldn't* resist me. ]

She then replayed the worst five minutes of my life. It was much more real and vivid than I had remembered, probably because she was in charge. I could smell the blood, feel the knife that I used. I could hear my mom's screams, "Jay, get out of the way! Run! Call the police!" just before I had grabbed it from my dad. It hadn't been too hard; he was incredibly strong, but also obese and drunk at the time. I took the knife and stabbed it into his heart. His last words were, "You betrayed me! I didn't mean to do it!" just before he died.

The memory stopped there. Forsil had little interest in what happened afterwards; how my mom had hugged me and told me how brave I was, how I did the right thing, and how we better call the police and let them know what had happened.

Maybe if she had played the whole thing, those five minutes of hell wouldn't have been as terrible.

I was breathing hard within my mind, sobbing.

[ No! ] I screamed, pleading. [ Please, stop it! Stop the memories! ]

We were out of the Yeerk pool area now; Forsil had walked me back to my car. Away from her friends, I guess, she was feeling less vengeful and slightly more merciful.

[ Do you promise not to fight me? ] she demanded.

[ Yes, I promise, I promise, just don't do that again, don't do that again! ] I rambled, still crying, still lost in the memory.

Of course, I meant it at the time, but once the horror faded and I realized my situation with better clarity, there would be many more repeats of the memory. Forsil always stopped when I promised not to resist, but almost every time I eventually fought back.

And every time I killed my father again.

It took three days for me to learn my new place as a slave. A puppet. A suit. Within those three days, I must have listened to my dad's screams fifty times.

* * *

[Are you happy now?]

[No, but I needed to do that. For me. I needed to remind myself why I'm doing this.]

[Do me a favor. Get your own damn body.]

The blood of my very own father was on my hands. And Forsil's brothers and sister's blood will soon be on hers.

Chapter 18: Forsil

One of the most interesting places I have been to is a place called "Home Depot."

It claims to be a place where one can get working materials. It is actually a place to acquire weaponry.

Although they're called "tools", they sell real implements of destruction. Axes, nailguns, chainsaws, drills. Great for injuring or torturing someone.

We went there to prepare for the turning over of the Blue Band trainees. We made sure to get batteries for Jay's electric stun-gun. I couldn't use a Dracon beam, for that would prove that it was an inside job.

Here was the tentative plan. We were going to transport the Hork-Bajir trainees by semi-truck. Another instructor and I would be driving. We'd have an escort.

Step One: Eliminate the escort. Ampriss said she'd see to that. Let's just say that there were going to be a lot of police calls put in that night, that our police cover would need to be diverted.

Step Two: Hijack the truck. I'll be next to the driver. I'll get him to pull over at a rest stop or something. Then jab the stun-gun into his stomach.

Step Three: Dispose of the driver. I'm still working on that one.

Step Four: Turn the truck over to the Andalites. That shouldn't be too difficult.

The truck is reinforced. It'd be really difficult to destroy the truck from the outside with weapons.

Or from the inside with wrist blades, for that matter.

I was able to procure some sleeping gas canisters. Just as the Fugue sets in, I'll put them to sleep. Their minds will be utter chaos, but their bodies will be safe.

Unfortunately, there still was a weak link.

[What do I do with the driver?]

[Do what they did to cheaters in Vegas. Dig a hole.]

[I'm not going to bury someone alive again, Jay.]

["Again"?]

I had done that before.

[Let's not go down that road.]

[Here's a dumb idea. Let's head over to Charlie's. He sells prepaid cell phones. We give the driver a phone and some money from my bankroll. We explain to him he's never allowed to see his wife and kids again. We tell him he's just going to find a new life to live. Then we leave him there to rot until he figures out he can use his newfound cell phone to call a cab.]

Jay's very imaginative, isn't he?

[Still a problem. The Yeerk.]

[I don't see how that's a problem.]

[Stop being sarcastic, Jay.]

[I'm not. We're at Home Depot here. We'll just do to him what we did to the Sub-Visser guy.]

Home Depot. A weapons exchange. Axes, nailguns, chainsaws, drills...

And vacuum cleaners.

* * *

Author's Note: We (and by "we" I mean me) would like to thank Emily, (Computercrazed19) for a major contribution to these chapters. Cheers.