I reached an end. My back hit the ocean floor, knocking the remaining air from my injured lungs. My spine erupted in pain. I heard a small crack that seemed dull and far away.
A group of dolphins moved in a slow circle around me. One, two, three, four, five dolphins. One of them nudged me in the arm. I tried to wave it away, but my arm was stiff and immobile. There were voices in my head, yelling things to me. It was annoying. Cassie, demorph! Do it now!
I opened my mouth to laugh at the dolphins. Salty water poured into my throat. There isn't much time, you have to demorph! It was Jake. Jake was the dolphin? What? That was crazy. He was a crazy dolphin telling me to do silly things.
I tried to say, "I am human Cassie." It was hard to talk now. I needed more air. The dolphins were still yelling in my head. I tried again. "I am Cassie."
The words weren't coming out. So I took a deep breath.
I woke up in a cold sweat. My own bed. My own soft bed in my own home, not an ocean. I leaned up against the headboard and tried to calm down.
It was still dark. I reached out to the bedside table, searching, but feeling nothing. My hand waved in the empty air for a few seconds before I remembered. The lamp. It wasn't mine. It had never been mine. It had been Ronnie's, and he had taken it along with everything else he decided was his.
I sat up and glanced at what remained on the table. There were a few memos strewn about, and a digital clock. Three numbers. That magical period of time where it's too late to get back into bed but too early to do anything else.
I opted for the former view and dragged myself out of the covers. I recalled stumbling into the room late the previous night. My clothing lay in a pile at the door. I kicked it aside as I passed through.
Coffee. My blood screamed for it. Down in the kitchen, I flung open various cabinet doors before I remembered, that, too, had been Ronnie's. Damn. I slammed them closed and went off in search of my shoes.
Outside, there was a faint blue light present. I looked out across my small yard. My feet crushed the dead grass and lingering dandelions. I missed my childhood home. I missed the expanses and the wide, green fields. Most of all, I missed the animals. All I had was the hot concrete, and the constant, excruciating caffeine headaches. The streets beyond my own were empty of traffic. But there would be a place open. There had to be.
I was a mess. My hair was tangled and unkempt, and I hadn't changed out of the blue bathrobe I had worn to bed. Still, I glared at the young male cashier when he hesitated to ring up my coffee. The few other customers kept their eyes fastened to their mugs. Someone cleared his throat more than once. I took a long drag from the Styrofoam cup. It was going to be a long day.
I got home around the time when I would normally have been waking up. I threw the keys off into a corner of the living room and sat down at my computer. Work. Things to do. Long, boring, monotonous things.
There was a message from the Andalite Electorate. Or, at least, from one of their temps. There had been a disturbance in an Earth-based camp that was to be the future site of a research facility. The idea had been to join humans and andalites together for the purpose of expanding each other's horizons. Togetherness and all that. They wanted me to make sure everything was going as planned. Wouldn't that be fun. I got another letter from the U.S. government that was to the same effect, with more threats and general unpleasantness.
I shut off the computer and balanced on the back legs of my chair. There were more calls. I really didn't feel like answering any of them. I contemplated visiting Toby and letting her know what I'd found out. I tried to consider who I'd want for Crayak's offer. That, too, felt like work, and I abandoned it.
I checked my answering machine. My parents had called, around the time I had been sneaking around the Hork-Bajir wilderness, trying to get home unseen. They were worried about me, again. They wanted to know if I was okay.
I didn't want to talk to them now. Or ever. They weren't completely sure if the rumors about me were true. All of their calls were a thinly veiled ploy to get me to confess something to them, and ultimately every newspaper with a pen.
These people were so full of shit. I closed my eyes and wondered just how bad it would be to die there, at the bottom of the ocean, and not have to deal with anyone anymore.