Author's Note: This is the (I hope) much anticipated chapter from Eftlak's point of view!
Mob: THAT TOOK LONG ENOUGH!
Me: Oh, shut up. Mom hauled me off of the computer for the while. I'm only allowed to use it on weekends until vacation now. Oh—and I kind of don't think that this chapter is humorous.
Disclaimer: As if we all don't know by know, the Animorphs are not mine. I wish they were. Then again, I also wish that I had a boyfriend. Neither wish has come true yet.
Dedicated to Tobias1452.
Chapter Twenty-Five: Eftlak's POVRicky wasn't being completely accurate. Pete had knocked when he last came over (probably out of fear of Elfangor). But Tom had a very distinct knock.
And Tom's knock was the one being employed.
In moments, most of our 'guests' had become cockroaches, Tom had dived into Ricky's room, Loren had stood in the middle of the room, baffled, until Tom had come back and dragged her into Ricky's room too, and Amy was given firm instruction to keep our visitors a secret.
"I like secrets!" she announced. "I can keep it." She then went back to playing with her toys like nothing had happened.
"Yo, Tom," said Ricky as he answered the door. "Ya do know knockin's unneeded, right?"
(His knocking may have just saved us,) I pointed out.
(I've gotta play the part, dude.)
(Whatever.)
"I try to be polite, Rick. Listen, we need to talk."
Rick stood back and let Tom in. I noticed a handheld Dracon beam sticking out of Tom's pocket. Did he go anywhere without it?
"You know those 'Andalite Bandits' Esi keeps complaining about?" Tom/Esp asked us. Ricky nodded. "Well, for some reason, he thinks that they're hiding out in this area. He wants to search the neighbourhood—nobody around here would call the police. I figured you should be warned—if he decides to search your place he'll find Amy." That was as far as Tom got before Ricky was attacked by a streak of supremely ticked blue fur.
(I KNEW WE SHOULDN'T HAVE TRUSTED A FILTHY YEERK! YOU TOLD THE VISSER ABOUT US, DIDN'T YOU?)
(Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill, BACK OFF!) his brother yelled. He might as well have told the couch to tap-dance for all the good it did.
"Ax, chill! He's not a traitor!" Tom raced out of Ricky's bedroom and proceeded to shield Ricky from Ax's tail using his own body.
Needless to say, the Tom who had just entered the house was rather confused. "Um... what's going on? And why are there two of me?"
Everyone, even Aximili, stopped dead.
(Gee, nice going there, Ax-man,) said a sarcastic voice that I recognized as Marco's. (We really needed to get caught. Things are so boring when we aren't being held prisoner.)
(Shut it, Marco.) I'm pretty sure that that comment was voiced by Jake. (It's the past version of Tom and Esp. They aren't going to kill us.)
(Hello, Tom. Esp,) said Elfangor politely.
"Elfangor? What are you doing here?"
(It is very complicated. Would you mind... um... leaving? And acting as though none of this ever happened? And not mentioning it to me for at least two weeks?)
"Actually, I would mind. What the heck is going on?"
The, shall we say, Future-Tom suddenly collapsed with a yelp of pain. Jake also yelped, demorphing as quickly as he was able.
"Midget? What are you doing here—did you just morph from a cockroach?"
Let's call the Tom who had just shown up Past-Tom, shall we? To me he seemed like he was from the present, but in relation to Future-Tom and the Animorphs he was from the past.
Anyway, everyone proceeded to ignore Past-Tom and focus on Future-Tom, who seemed to be having a sort of seizure.
"Fascinating, the way paradox warps one's mind, isn't it?" We all turned to face... well, to be completely honest, I'm not sure what it was. It appeared to be a glowing red eyeball, floating in mid-air. Creepy.
"Crayak," Jake whispered.
"Jake," the eye responded smoothly. How could it talk without a mouth? This wasn't thought-speak—this was spoken sound. "I promised you I would have revenge. This is—what? The third time you've destroyed my plans. You've saved the Iskoort, the Chee, the Taxxons, and your ungrateful Andalite friend. You've forced me to destroy my Howlers. I feel that I deserve some form of compensation."
"Then take me!" Jake said boldly. Did he have a death wish? Future-Tom was obviously being tortured. New memories from almost a week ago, warping the events in between, were forcing their way into his mind, I realized. That was why Past-Tom wasn't in pain. "Why Tom? He hasn't hurt you."
It was like some kind of reversed cliché. A younger sibling, risking torture and possibly death to save their elder sibling. Crayak seemed to have thought along those same lines.
"It is classic among sentient beings to feel more pain over the death of a loved one than they would over their own death. Pathetic, but it serves my purpose. I can cause you great pain without going after you personally." Crayak was sick. His hypnotic voice proved it. Only a sick, twisted mind could enjoy that sort of thing. "First your brother. Then your parents, one at a time. Then your cousins, and finally your pathetic friends. And it will never be my fault."
(What's that supposed to mean? You kill them, it's your fault!) Elfangor argued.
"Accidents can happen. Him, for instance. A paradox created memories that don't exist and altered events have already happened, thus damaging the brain." I somehow got the feeling that the eye was smirking.
(I'm lost. Who's this Crayak dude?) Ricky asked me. Nonetheless, he moved in front of Amy, blocking her from the eyeball-thing's view.
(Your guess is as good as mine, pal.)
"What's going on?" Amy whimpered.
"Tom's hurt, Amy. We have to say back. Did you see that floating eye?" She nodded. "That's a bad guy. Stay away from it." This was over-simplifying thing a lot, but it was all Ricky could do to help the kid understand.
For some reason, the creepy floating eyeball pointed itself at us. "A child," it observed. There was a sick amusement in its voice. "Shame it won't live to grow up."
"Is that a threat?" Ricky snarled. I was suddenly treated to the experience of Richard snapping from 'Nice Ricky' to 'Street Ricky'. Nice Ricky was at home (and his job, for the most part.) He took care of Amy, loved her, protected her, and all that sentimental stuff. He was the gentle, sensitive guy she always ran to when she had a nightmare.
Street Ricky was another matter. He was the hard-as-steel, tough-as-nails exterior Rick slipped on when Amy wasn't there. He swore, fought, would steal if he weren't too proud to do it, and had a nasty reputation, guaranteeing that Nice Ricky wasn't given trouble. He was the result of life in that neighbourhood, the bitterness and anger Ricky had penned up when his mother died. There was a cold glint in his eye that could make even the toughest guys decide to look for trouble someplace else.
"No. It was a fact."
(He's lying! He's trying to get your temper up so that you'll do something you'll regret!) I hissed.
"I assure you, Eftlak, that I am being most honest." There was another smirk from the freaky floating eyeball. "As I said, accidents can happen."
Future-Tom, still caught in the spasm, suddenly lashed out and hit Amy. She, being a small and distressingly light little girl, flew and hit the wall. Her head made contact first—we all heard the sickening crack of shattering bone.
Rick ran over to his sister, but he was to late. Unlike his mother, Amy had been killed in a few seconds. "Amy?" Ricky asked quietly. There was no answer. There never would be an answer.
In the background, I was aware that Future-Tom was no longer screaming. He had stopped twitching too. In fact, he was getting up. He slowly took a step towards Ricky.
Ricky, however, was oblivious to everything except his sister's corpse.
He was crying. I had only ever felt Ricky this upset when he had a nightmare about his mother's death. This was different. This was not a memory—this was now. Amy was the only reason Ricky had kept going, and not lain down and died the instant his mother had.
"Please don't be dead, Amy. Please don't be dead. I promised Mom I'd take care of you. I've done such a lousy job. I'm so sorry Amy. I love you." Nice Ricky was the one who said all that. I'm pretty sure he died once he was done. Street Ricky took over, and a rage like never before tore through him. He turned around to face the deadly silence.
"You killed my sister," he hissed—and lunged, determined to do the same to his target.
Author's Note: See what I mean? Amy's dead (WHICH I WAS NOT INTENDING TO HAPPEN!) and now Ricky's out to kill.
Review Responses:
Dragon: Um... Do you want some anger management courses? Yelling at Animorphs 54 can be therapeutic. Oh, and I thought that the title was losing relevance.
Aldrea: Congratulations. I tried out for cross-country, but I've got NO endurance at high speed.
Thalanox: My page breaks won't upload. Wahhhhhhhhh!
Cor-chan: Okay, out of OMGWTFBBQ, I figured out Oh My God What The F, but not the BBQ part. Sorry about the cliffies. I didn't think that updating would take this long.
Rachel9466: I have a feeling that I should know this, but I don't, so I'll ask—who is Aflac?