A:N / enjoy. I think I like this better than my old chapter. 3 i hart those kind reviews xD
I cannot tell you who I am. Because I am not even sure of that myself.
And this event brought that to light.
The peak of my career had passed. The craze of the Animorphs had faded and my newer series hadn't caught on with the grip that Animorphs had. Maybe it came from the fact that Animorphs was realer, to the public even, than Everworld and Remnants could ever hope to be.
No matter. I had enough to enjoy myself with. When the child came to my door, I was just in shock. I know that I might have handled it better, if only I had been thinking clearly. But after all, I am a very normal woman, who just happened to touch upon huge matters that were–are-over my head. So I did what a normal person would do upon finding a child on their doorstep. I called the authorities.
It was a stupid mistake. But it was done and promising to never do it again would not work. The operator promised to send over someone soon. They would take the child out of my hands. I wouldn't have to worry about any Animorph offspring.
I should have known that I couldn't just dump this child into foster care. Because I knew Matt would not leave his child willingly. Or at least, I hoped he wouldn't. After all, that's what his mother did. Maybe felt that he didn't come out too bad living without parents, so his son would grow up fine as well.
If he thought this, the war and Kameryn's death must have messed with his head.
Jake had his hand on my shoulder, holding me in place. He knew without me telling him that I was confused. He didn't need to ask. I wouldn't have known how to tell him anyway. How would I explain to Jake that what I wrote in those books was true? He might leave me; he might think me crazy. Or both.
He sees I'm not about to talk about the situation I'm in. There have been times like these before, so he knows how to deal with them. He waits, patiently, until I'm ready to explain the silences and awkward moments. That time still hasn't come.
He reaches down to pick up Michael, but our boy wiggles out of his father's grasp and races over the new boy, and they both inspect each other with their eyes. Michael finds the boy acceptable, it seems, because he smiles a grin with a space, the place where his front teeth should be, gaping. Matt's son smiles back, sheepishly and then hides his face in his hands, after muttering in a low tone, "Hi, my name's James."
Then the boy just stares at me with complete trust and my heart aches to help him. But I cannot for the life of me think of a way to help this child. More than before, I see the logic in calling the police. Well, that's before it happens.
It's difficult to describe correctly. It's never easy to find a detailed description of your surroundings when you're running, especially with two boys at your side. I remember my fear quite well, but of my surroundings, little. Except for the part I most wish to forget, it's a blur.
I don't see if coming. I hear banging in front of my house, but I take it to be some rowdy teenagers horsing around loudly. If I had been listening clearly I might have noticed that there were no voices, no loud yelling. Just footsteps, approaching with speed. This might have caught my attention. I might have been able to prevent the tragic event about to occur from happening. Maybe.
But I didn't. So I jumped out of my skin when five people, dressed in dark apparel and holding shining silver pistols with a bizarre shape to them, knocked down my door. I only remember the pistols because I see them at various occasions later on.
Jake screams as the laser lights up the room in a terrible radiance. With fear gripping him in its vise-like grip, his eyes, his beautiful green eyes, search mine out in the radiance of the red beam. I know the weapon, the beam I've described time after time in many Animorph books. But the beam is a lot stronger now, so many years later. It hits my Jake square in the stomach and he flies backwards, a single shoe falling off his foot. I can only see so much. I grab the two boys, one small, sweaty hand in each of mine and flee.
But in my ear the echoes of my late husband's screams keep playing over, and over, and over, and over . . . .
I image in my mind's eye his body denigrating bit by bit, still in the air. His eyes glazed and blank for a few seconds before they too crumble and turn to dust. I try to block out these thoughts, but they crowd my mind as I race through the maze-like hall, and dart up the stairs, dragging the two boys after me.
There's a patio door upstairs, just outside Michael's bedroom. I pop it open with a flash of strength I didn't know I had. With a few seconds to spare I lock the large glass door in the way that confounded me the first few weeks of living the house. Then I run, hoping that the door will win the boys and I enough to time to escape the dizzying cover of woods behind my house.
I manage to run down the short stone path that leads to the side of my house and then, cut through the grass, cowering behind the pool as I run to the cover of the woods. I hear the humming of the Dracon Beam and I know they have gotten through the door. It was too much to hope for that a mere glass door would impede them.
So I scamper to the diminutive safety of the woods. The trees weave randomly and the branches whip at my face, making bright red welts appear all over my face. I'm surprised the boys have lasted this long in the angry race against these strangely armed humans. But now they begin to slow, and they pant heavily, their faces red and sweaty. I cannot risk looking back and having the hopelessness of our situation make me cynical about our chances of making it.
It's then I realize the bulge in my back pocket and think of the silver phone, gasping in relief. A new energy fills me and I smile as we dash long, darting behind the thickest trees and hearing angry yells behind us, muffled by the trees.
I wheeze with lack of breath as I order Matt's son to hold on tight to my son's hand. I pull out the cell phone, and I press the numbers, hoping my trembling fingers can manage to dial correctly and not drop the phone. It's amazing what you can do if you try. The phone begins to ring a light, peppy voice answers. "Hello, Mai, here."
"Mai!" I gasp as I pull my son and James harder, now that the sound of cars speeding down a fast road can faintly be heard. "Please meet me at the Parkway. Directly behind my house. Please, hurry, it's an emergency!" I close the phone hard and think of dropping now that I've used it to its best abilities. But I quickly think of the consequences if the Controllers -for I'm sure that's what those humans were– get a hold of the phone.
Mai lives quite close, though if its close then I just have to see. My heart pulses in my ears and we continue running, our pace getting slower and slower as we get more drained. At last we break through the end of the woods. I spot the bright green Volkswagon a couple yards away and spring towards it, even now refusing to look back.
The back door opens as soon as I get there and I push James and Michael in before I jump into the cushioned seats myself, slamming the door behind me. "Drive off, now!" Mai, driving, immediately follows my instructions and I lean back, wiping the sweat off my brow and brush the hair out of the boys' eyes.
I look back to see the spot where the car had been, just two seconds before, scorching and burning, looking not too out of place on the hot day.
3In the middle of a gunfight / In the center of a restaurant3