Chapter 20

Sam flew us to the roof of the terminal, where we buzzed off her backs and quickly demorphed. The Los Angeles air was warm and breezy. The sun was high in the sky, and there were no clouds. Personally, I would have loved to lie here and sunbathe for a while. No wonder people loved this place. No wonder why movie stars lived here.

"You know, morphing on the roof in the middle of an airport probably isn't the best idea," Ferdie said, half to himself, half to the rest of us. "What if someone in a plane looks down and sees us?"

"I doubt anyone will do that," said Sam. "And if they do, they'd need a hawk's eyesight to be sure of what they were seeing."

"We should try and follow the passengers, work out where they're going," said Philip. "The website said they were going to be getting on a coach."

"I can see a car park," I said, seeing the thousands of cars glittering on the huge expanse of concrete. "Can't be sure if there are any coaches around thought."

"We should morph hawks," said Philip. "Get into the air for a better look."

Sam agreed, and we each took on our raptor morphs. Sam's was a lanner falcon, Ferdie's a hobbie, Philip had a buzzard and mine, of course, was the eagle. Sam took flew up into the air as soon as we were all morphed, and we took off, following her. We spread out a few hundred meters, so that it wouldn't look suspicious to see a load of birds of prey all flying in close formation. Ferdie was the highest, playing around in the air, taking little notice of what was on the ground. I was a hundred or so meters to the right of him. Sam and Philip were making wide, slow circles below us, scanning the ground.

--There's a lot of media coverage,-- Sam reported. --Loads of reporters hanging about by the main entrance to this terminal.--

--I guess this is a pretty significant occasion,-- Philip said. --They've got news crews, photographers, everything.--

I looked down at the ground, picking up every detail. There were around fifty or so reporters, with more jumping out a variety of logo-covered vans. Most of the reporters trying to crowd in through the main door or the terminal, but were being kept back by security guards. I noticed another crowd of them someway out into the car park, surrounding a large coach.

--Hey, guys?-- I called. --I think I know which coach the passengers will be getting on. It's that big black one round the side of the terminal. There's loads of reporters hanging around it.--

--That's no where near the main entrance,-- observed Sam. --I guess the celebrities get the special treatment and their own private exit from the terminal.--

--Special treatment because they're rich and powerful? Or because the Yeerks want to keep them together in order to infest them?-- Philip asked rhetorically.

--Hey - they're leaving the terminal!-- called Ferdie excitedly. --You can see who they are!--

I trained my eyes on the side exit, where a group of people, accompanied by men on dark suits and sunglasses, were being ushered into the coach. Some of them stopped briefly to acknowledge the media, all of whom had now been tipped off on the whereabouts of the coach.

--I think that guy in the blue shirt is Antonio Reiner,-- said Sam. --He owns some big internet-based company in London. I did a project on him last year in Business Studies.--

--And I can see a few politicians,-- I said. --I've seen the fat guy with the glasses on television a few times. He's English, which means that if they are going to become Controllers, we'll have Yeerks in the Houses of Parliament.--

--That woman looks familiar too. I think she's a French MP.-- Philip said.

--I recognise someone too,-- said Ferdie. --The man in the jeans, with the blonde woman? I think they are the Hewitt-Troys. Francis Hewitt-Troy is the Earl of Bromford. Philip and I are distantly related on our mother's side.--

--Good grief,-- said Philip, somewhat taken-aback. --I think you're right. And I think they've just been joined by a US senator.--

--This is much more serious than we'd imagined, guys,-- Sam said. --It's not just a bunch of pop stars and movie actors being taken. These are people who are in government. The Yeerks could be influencing the running of some of the most powerful countries in the world! Passing laws, giving The Sharing and other Yeerk-affiliated companies certain privileges. Giving them land and offices. Money. Making it easier for them to take Controllers.--

--We should morph geese,-- advised Philip. --They'll be setting off soon. We'll be able to keep up faster in our transit morphs.--

We returned to the roof of the building, demorphed and morphed geese, or, in my case, a swan. We circled to the airport for a while, waiting for the coach to leave. Eventually, the reporters began to leave, and the coach pulled away. We flapped on after it, keeping it in our line of sight. I turned out of the airport, joining the freeway which snaked it's way through the city below us. Soon, we were in the suburbs, and then the desert, heading north.

It was hard work, trying to keep up with the coach. We could fly at about fifty miles an hour, max, but it would take us a while to reach this speed. We were also having to fly lower than normal so that we could keep sight of the coach; at around two and a half thousand feet, compared to the normal height of five thousand feet where the air was thinner and easier on the wing. I only hoped that the trip wouldn't last for more than two hours. If we had to stop to demorph, there was no way we'd catch up with it again. Luckily, after about an hour and a half, it turned off the freeway and into a service station. It drove round the back of the station, towards a small business-style hotel, obviously to keep away from the prying eyes of the public. Or perhaps to infest them.

--We'd demorph while we have the chance,-- said Sam. --We've only got about twenty minutes left in morph, so we'd better take our chance. There's some dumpsters down to the left of the main building. We should be ok to demorph there.--

--Always the luxury treatment for the fugitives,-- sighed Ferdie. --Dumpsters. How very grand.--

--Philip, do you know how far we might have travelled?-- I asked, as we swooped down and landed.

--We were probably going at about forty-five miles an hour on average,-- he replied, starting to demorph. --Lucky the freeway was quite busy with traffic, or it might have been doing sixty. But I'd say that based on our speed, and the time we were travelling, around sixty or seventy miles.--

--How far is it to San Francisco?--

--Not too sure, a few hundred miles maybe?--

--Really? That will take ages! I hope they stop again for petrol, we can't stay in morph for that long!--

"We'll just have to land and demorph then," said Sam who was listening. She was still mainly goose, but her upper half was human, albeit covered in feathers, and had a human mouth and voice box. "If we loose sight of the coach, we'll just have to try and catch up later. Better to prevent being trapped in morph than to loose the coach."

"How long do you think they'll be?" asked Ferdie. "I might just nip to the lavatory."

"You really shouldn't," said Sam. "There's bound to be Controllers walking about who'll recognise you."

Ferdie stared blankly at her for a second, then snapped his fingers. "I can get around that," he said.

"How?"

Suddenly, Ferdie began to morph. Very slowly, and very carefully. It was barely noticeable. His hair became shorter and darker. His thin, finely drawn nose became a little rounder and shorter. His eyes turned from their usually mischievous green, to hazel and slightly slanted. He became a bit shorter, and more muscular. Suddenly, the morph stopped, and the new Ferdie grinned at us.

"What did you do?" I asked. "You didn't acquire another person, did you?"

"No, no," he said, in a rather hoarse voice. "I just began morphing to lynx, but stopped it almost immediately. How does it look?"

"Great," I said enthusiastically. "You look nothing like your real self. No one's going to recognise you."

"It's an improvement, I think," smiled Sam.

Ferdie grinned and slapped her playfully on the arm. "So, why don't you try out some improvements of yourself, Wonder Woman?"

Sam giggled girlishly, then went silent as she began to concentrate. Soon, her hair became lighter and rust coloured. Her brown eyes turned light golden. Suddenly, two long antlers popped out of her head.

"Oops!" she laughed, and reversed the morph. She tried again, this time stopping the morph before the antlers appeared.

"You haven't done a stag morph for ages," Ferdie said.

"Well, I'm sure I'm putting it to a good use now. I just hope I don't accidentally think of a stag later on and complete the morph!" Sam replied, putting on an American accent. "Mags and Philip? You two better do a part-morph if you want to join us."

I morphed part way to wolf, trying to make myself loose a few pounds. My hair became shorter and almost jet-black, my eyes larger and darker, my face longer and thinner. Philip grew taller and thick-set, his neat brown hair becoming very long, very straggly and much darker. I laughed - he looked so unlike himself it was incredible.

"What have you morphed?" I asked, as we set off towards the gas station.

"Musk ox," Philip replied. "I thought the hair would be rather fun."

I laughed. "I think you need to change that upper-class accent of yours, if you want to pass off as a biker."

We entered the gas station - which was more of a mini shopping-centre, with fast-food restaurants, shops and coffee bars - and used the facilities. Washing our hands, Sam and I stared in shock in the mirrors.

"Amazing, huh?" I said quietly. "We look nothing like ourselves."

"I know - it's incredible," replied Sam, cupping her hands and taking gulps of the cold water. I did the same. I had not had a drink of water since leaving New York, and my human body needed refreshing.

"Come on," said Sam, after a moment. "We'd better get back to the others. The celebs might be off again soon."