Chapter 16

I froze.

"Either we make him ours... or we kill him."

The sentence repeated over and over in my mind, gaining strength each time like some horrible, twisted version of an echo.

My dad. My dad wanted to kill me.

No, not my dad. Not my dad. A Yeerk. A parasite in my dad's head. My dad wasn't saying that. It was the Yeerk in his head.

Not my dad.

Not my dad! My dad wasn't even my dad! These Yeerks had taken my dad from me! They'd taken my own father, and I hadn't even known! If they were powerful enough to do that–to make my dad not my dad without one slip-up–then how could I stop them? What could I do?

I was an ant–a little tiny any trying to stop an army. Me and my friends... all just insects up against this massive legion of aliens. Me, a leader? The leader of what? A gang of ants? Who was I kidding? I was no Atlas. If I was, the world was doomed from the start.

I let go after that. I let my human brain retreat into the furthest recesses of my consciousness and allowed the Zigzagoon full autonomy. I didn't want to think. I just wanted to let the Zigzagoon dig and wander and be happy. And so I did. I drifted.

But after the fifth bottle cap I excavated from the sand, I realized I couldn't do this forever. Sooner or later, I would have to confront my situation, and it would have to be sooner, because I had a meeting to spy on.

I made my way back to the full members' campfire and set up once more at the sandy hole I'd been digging before. I tried to listen in to the conversation, but my brain was so jumbled I only caught bits and pieces. In between echoing repetitions in my head of "Either we make him ours... or we kill him," I gathered that we were at least safe from that second option. Chapman made very clear that killings at a Team Rocket event would make it very hard to keep a cover.

And then I heard something that piqued my interest. Once the formal meeting structure had dissolved, I picked up my dad's voice. He mentioned the Yeerk pool, and that he'd just been and was feeling recharged. But most importantly, he mentioned when he was headed back. My dad would be going back down the Yeerk pool on Monday night.

No, not my dad. The Yeerk in his head would be going back down to the Yeerk pool on Monday night, and dragging my dad's body with it.

Then I heard something that made me jerk in surprise: Yellow's voice, and very close.

I scrambled up the side of the dune on which I was digging, clawing my way through the shifting sand, until I stood atop it and looked down towards the source of Yellow's voice.

And then I heard another voice, one that made my blood run cold. Even through my muddy Zigzagoon hearing, there was no mistaking it: Yellow was talking to the policeman–the same policeman who'd questioned us earlier that day.

"Hey kid, what are you doing here?" the cop demanded.

"Looking for shells," Yellow answered, and then asked, with convincing uncertainty, "Is... Is that allowed, sir?"

The policeman narrowed his eyes suspiciously. I could practically see him... or, rather, the Yeerk in his head... connecting the dots and realizing that he was talking to the girl he'd seen that afternoon. Thankfully, though, he didn't mention it. "Yes, but not here. This meeting is for full members only. It's private business, so you can't be around for it. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Yellow said, nodding. She kept her voice steady, but my movement-attuned vision could see that her hands were shaking in fear. I could only hope that the policeman didn't notice.

The officer gave her another hard stare, very obviously in the process of deciding whether Yellow being in the group of kids he'd seen earlier and her showing up near the full-members' meeting now were connected. I never knew what he decided, because he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he gave a curt nod and said, "Okay, get going. You can look for shells anywhere else, but don't wander over here again, or there'll be trouble."

Yellow gave another hasty, "Yes, sir," and then turned and left, moving as fast as she could without outright breaking into a jog. I intercepted her before she could get back to the bigger gathering of people. She was still on edge, jerking in fright when she saw me.

"Oh, there you are, Red," she said, letting out a sigh of relief.

«Yeah. Jeez, Yellow, that was really close. What were you doing there?»

She shifted guiltily. "I know you said I didn't need to come, but you were gone for a while, and I started to get worried. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right."

«That was risky,» I reminded her. «That guy is already on the lookout for anything that links you to the construction site. He can't know anything for sure yet, but if too many coincidences start to pile up...»

Yellow stared at her feet and bit her lip. "I know, I know. It was stupid of me. But I was worried, and I just wanted to see it you were okay."

«I appreciate it,» I reassured her. And I did appreciate it. Maybe it was just knowing that my dad wasn't my dad anymore–that the dad I interacted with every day would take my life in a heartbeat–but it felt good to know that someone genuinely cared about me and worried about whether I was okay. «I really do, Yellow, but we can't take unnecessary risks like that.»

By that point, we'd gotten back to where the others were waiting. I wanted to stay in Zigzagoon morph. Despite the brain's jumpiness, I enjoyed letting its simple nature guide me and overwhelm my human thoughts. If I just let the Pokemon take control, in a few minutes I wouldn't remember why I was sad. I could dig something up, like a soda can. That would make me happy.

But I couldn't. If I lost myself to the Zigzagoon, I wasn't sure whether I'd recover in time to become human again. How long had I been in morph already? An hour? Ninety minutes? Too long, either way.

But that was the danger. If a morph became an escape from humanity, it was only a matter of time until that escape became permanent, and humanity slipped away entirely.

Thinking that way as I started to change back to human, I got that bad feeling again about Green, festering in the pit of my stomach. He loved to fly. How much did he love it?

Blue turned away the moment I started changing. Yellow was still distracted and didn't notice for a few moments, but when she did, she turned away, her cheeks pink.

"Silver, you were right," I informed him once I was fully human again, pulling on my clothes. "My dad is a Controller. This whole thing was a scam to try to persuade us into joining Team Rocket and getting infested."

Silver didn't look happy about it. I'd expected at least some sort of 'I told you so' remark, but instead he scowled and kicked at the sand. "Great. Just great. You see, I thought we'd finally caught a break there for a moment. Glad to know we just don't get those."

"Get used to it," I said bluntly. "Because I've got some more bad news. Chapman's a Controller too, and he's looking for us. Apparently Visser Three is very intent on finding those meddling kids."

"Chapman?" Blue asked. "Like Mr. Chapman from school? Assistant Principal Chapman?"

"Yeah, him. He's some sort of leader, I think. He seems to have a tight connection with the Visser."

"Principal Visser," Silver joked. His tone was light, but frustration still twisted his expression. "Principal Visser and Assistant Principal Chapman."

"We should leave," Green suggested. "Like, now. Before they try anything."

"Soon," I agreed. "But we're safe for a bit, at least. They're not going to do anything crazy at one of their public meetings. They definitely won't try to kill us unless they're completely sure we're the kids they're looking for."

"Oh good," Blue scoffed, crossing her arms. "Glad to know they're being so courteous."

I shrugged. "Kind of. From what I can tell, they're going to wait until those kids talk before they do anything. They think that kids who've seen aliens will eventually tell somebody something."

"But we won't," Blue interjected. "We're not going to tell anyone anything."

"Exactly," Silver agreed. "Glad to know you've taken the 'don't be stupid' ruleset to heart, Blue. We won't tell anyone anything, and we'll forget about all this Yeerk stuff and go back to normal life."

She frowned. "That's not what I said."

"You have to be kidding me," Silver groaned, giving us all an incredulous look. "You're still on that 'we're going to fight the Yeerks' business? News flash: there's no hope! Don't you get it? These things are everywhere! Everywhere. Anyone we know could be a Controller. Heck, everyone we know could be a Controller!"

"That's exactly it, Silver," I interrupted. "That's exactly the reason we have to fight. My dad is one of them. I'm fighting for him. But what about everyone else? What about everyone who's had friends or family get infested? We can't just sit by and let them suffer."

"And what are you going to do about it?" he challenged. "What are you going to do when you're up against a million Hork-Bajir and Taxxons and Visser Three in some morph from planet whatever? Turn into a Zigzagoon and headbutt them? It's like some sort of unfair video game where you're stuck at level 1 and you're up against a team of level 100's."

I gave what I hoped was a grin. My mouth felt numb. "Yeah, but I'm pretty good at video games."

"And you can add another 'level 1,'" Blue said. "I'm in."

Green nodded. "So am I."

"Me too," Yellow agreed hastily.

"Oh great." Silver rolled his eyes. "The Elite Four, you guys are. Do I have to go on again about this being real life and not some action movie? Because I will."

I had no doubt he would have, but just then we heard people walking through the dunes, dispersed from the full members' meeting.

"No more thinking about it right now," I decided. "Forget everything for today. We can talk about it more tomorrow."

I wasn't going to wait, not by a long shot. I just had to get Silver to shut up about everything so we wouldn't attract unwanted attention.

Another necessary lie.

The moment we started to head back toward the main group, I took Yellow aside. She looked nervous, like she was worried I'd bring up the risk she'd taken again. That wasn't my intention, though. "Yellow, I need to get a morph that can watch Chapman without him seeing me. Do you have anything like that at the clinic?"

She thought about it, chewing the tip of her tongue. "Um... Well, we don't have a lot of Pokemon like that right now. There's a Lycanroc with a twisted ankle, a lot of bird Pokemon with messed up wings, and a Deerling or two with a broken leg..."

She listed off a few more Pokemon, but I was beginning to see a problem. "Yellow," I said once she was done, "All these Pokemon are way too big."

"That's what I was thinking," she agreed. "But maybe..." Her eyes lit up. "How small do you think we can go?"

I shrugged. "Pretty small, I'd guess."

"Then I think I have a Pokemon," she said with a grin. "It's not really a patient in the clinic, but if we can find it, you'll have a morph that's small, fast, and mobile."

And that's how I found myself in Yellow's barn later that night, crawling hands and knees on the floor between cages filled with injured and sick Pokemon, looking for Treecko.