Shaftsbury turned out to be a bit of a workout for an animal that's used to lakes and oceans. As the elevation rose slightly and Harwood Hill got higher, I literally felt like I was walking up that steep road. The only thing I was grateful for was that I wasn't on the road the way these people drove.
My wings were beginning to ache from strain. I wasn't an expert, but that couldn't be a good sign. Seagulls just aren't inland birds. To top it off, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye that made the seagull instincts wary. A hawk was hovering over the apple orchard, probably ready to score some squirrel or mouse…or some awkwardly flying bird that's normally happiest near a lake, ocean, or river.
I managed to avoid being on the menu as the hawk continued to circle. But it did remind me that hawks were common in this part of the state. And form the height this one was soaring at it wouldn't hurt to try to get an upgrade on my current model.
Fortunately the church my Dad had gone to wasn't exactly in Shaftsbury, but rather a half a mile from the town border and just off the corner of a busy intersection. I saw his car parked the back lot. A wet field stretched out behind the church. The highway was very busy and except for a few houses and the miniature Sunny Hill Go-Cart track and Miniature Golf Course the area was mostly rural and surrounded by trees.
Sunny Hill was across the street and open for business, but with school in session there were only two people actually playing golf. I landed near the picnic tables and tried to assess the situation. Through a window in the main building where people went to get putters and balls I could see two employees. A blond girl sat by the window reading something and I could only make out the back of someone.
No one paid attention to me of course. There was nothing at all unusual about a bird looking for scraps of food in an open picnic area. I fluttered to the other side of the building, as if I had just seen a piece of bread hit the ground. There was a side entrance with a sign that said "restrooms" attached to a propped door that was propped open by a milk crate.
I got as close as I could without drawing attention, but I couldn't see anything inside that I could use. My plan was to morph out and possibly morph into the dog before going to the church. But with the traffic as heavy as it was, there was no way a dog could make it across the highway. There are drivers in this town that will plow over a line of preschoolers without glancing in the mirror.
And how long was I in morph this time? Damn, I would need to start keeping an eye on that. I did not want to be stuck as a seagull for the rest of my life. Wanting to at least have as much time as possible, I flew over to some bushes and de-morphed again.
By this time I was ready for a nap. I half considered just going home and figuring out what to do tomorrow, now that I knew for certain where Dad was. That and the constant nagging of some internal force that kept asking, "What the hell are you doing? Just kidnap your dad, hold him for three days and get yourselves the hell out of there!"
No. I told myself. I went through this much just to get here and as I forced myself to morph back into a seagull I knew I was in the whole way.
This wasn't just about me and my Dad. There was something big going on here. If it was the reverse and Dad had the morphing power instead of me, he would use it to investigate and expose the Yeerks. As his son, I had to do what I knew he would have done as an investigative journalist.
So once more I took to the air, flying straight for the church. Nothing suspicious. The parking lot was clean and free of trash of course, but the seagull's vision could make out flying bugs and beetles in the grass and around the building. Though it preferred a free meal, the gull was a capable hunter as well and it helped me keep the instincts under control.
I circled the church a few times. There were only a few windows in the left half of the building. One or two along the bottom may have lead into a basement and on the right hand, nearest to the side parking there were two smaller windows into what I guessed were the bathrooms. The front wooden doors were huge and probably swung outwards
I didn't know how big the church was, nor could I see Reverend Mosely through any of the windows, but something told me I didn't want to go through the front door. For one thing, doors that size tend to make a lot of noise and this church, with the large triangular roof in the center, was probably built like an amphitheater. Every little noise could be heard.
So I swung down around the left side of the building and tried to see if there was an open window. There was a ground level window open a crack, but it wasn't big enough for a seagull to get through. I floated to the ground, looking inside. It looked like an office. There was no screen on the inside, so a person could easily climb in. I de-morphed behind the corner closest to the window.
The edge of the hill was surrounded by trees, so it was unlikely anyone could see me. Then I snuck as quietly as possible towards the window, keeping low to the ground as a car whipped by the church. I don't know what I was planning to explain to the cops if I got caught doing this, but, so far I managed to find some way out of these little predicaments so I wasn't going to worry anymore.
After a bit of struggle, I was able to push the window a few inches. But a squeaking noise forced me to stop.
"What was that?" Someone asked.
Nothing, I desperately though, ducking below the window.
The door to the room opened and I heard footsteps. Against my body's protests I concentrated on Rocks as I bolted back to the little corner.
"Did you leave that open?" My dad's voice.
"Yes," a second man said. "The breeze on a day like this is soothing and the smell of the hillside calms my host down."
"Sestran, perhaps you have been enjoying your new found freedom a little too much," Dad's Yeerk said in a tone that Dad would never speak to another person with. "But are you aware that there may be Andalites running loose on the planet?"
There was a pause. For a second I was afraid that the Yeerks had heard my spine crunch and shrinking. I expected my hearing to get weaker, but it only got stronger. Soon I could hear Sestran, the Yeerk controlling Reverend Mosely breathing heavily.
"There was talk on the Z-space transponder of Andalite bandits surviving the destruction of the dome ship," Sestran replied. "But they were only reported at the California pool. Surely you don't think they could have-"
Someone slapped the reverend. I heard the smack of hand against cheek, but my heart jumped.
It wasn't your dad, I tried to remind myself. That was the Yeerk, not dad. Dad has spoken to convicted child molesters far nicer than this Yeerk is speaking to the reverend. And Dad would not hit someone.
As quickly as my anger and fear came, they melted as the mind of the dog took over.
"I am the only one thinking it seems," Dad's Yeerk continued. "There is no telling how many Andalites escaped to Earth or where they are. If they continue to keep Esplin busy in his corner of the planet, fine. But if just one of them were to track me here and draw attention to our operation it would be rather disastrous for us all. Wouldn't you agree, Sestran?"
"Yes…forgive me…Kullan 926."
The dog part of me really wanted to run through that field. As the morph finished, I could hear the conversation more clearly. I could smell the sweat, old coffee, cleaning supplies the scent of the hardwood floors from inside. And outside the scent of flowers and grass, and manure from the farm just a few miles down the road was all around me. But I had to fight the instincts. Rocks, the junk yard guard dog with a penchant for attacking people that nearly got him put to sleep, was a playful and happy animal. I used the mood to keep from getting upset. But the conversation was only making it harder not to give into the urge to chase a really bold squirrel that was searching for food at the bottom of the hill.
"Of the Yeerks who were receptive to my suggestions, only six had the courage to join my side," Kullan said. "The rest will no doubt be experiencing a rather, serious illness that will make them useless to me, but no longer a threat."
"Just six?" Sestran sounded doubtful, but guarded.
"Only two Taxxons, a Hork-Bajir and a few human-controllers," Kullan confirmed. "Forham smuggled them out during the Andalite attack on the pool and now they are presumed dead."
"Forgive me for asking Kullan. But how effective are nine of us-I don't mean to doubt you, sir."
Movement. I could hear someone moving across the carpeted room to the window. I tucked my body as close to the ground as possible, even going as far as to rest my head on the grass. If they saw me they might think I was just someone's dog who wandered too far from home and fell asleep.
"Every Yeerk I approached had one thing in common Sestran. They were nearing the end of their lifecycles. In just a few short days six will become thousands. A new generation of Yeerks raised in the rays of my own Kandrona and ready to serve me."
My ears perked up as a car pulled into the parking lot. A second vehicle, a can by the sound of it, pulled into the side parking lot.
"That must be them," Kullan said.
Kullan and Sestran left the room. I bounded around the back of the church, giving in to the dog's urge to sniff things. There were certainly some interesting things to smell and two of those scents were completely alien to the dog's instincts.
Staying as low as I could, I padded around the back. Unfortunately Rottweilers are lousier for stealth than wearing a suit meant for scuba diving as from the nearest body of saltwater as possible. But I kept up the dog act, pretending like I was looking for a place to pee. Then the dog got another whiff of that alien smell and I couldn't fight the urge to look up.
A man got out of the truck and opened the sliding rear door, just as a man dressed in black khakis and button down white shirt emerged from the side entrance. Of course black and white was all I could see. Damn, the colorblind thing was dead on.
But the one thing that the dog couldn't miss was the six foot tall creature that emerged from the back of the truck. With flat, claw like feet and a spike raking down from the ankle, it reminded me of the T-Rex's foot in Jurassic Park and a tail swept behind it, ending in a pretty vicious looking blade. Big and muscular, its neck was long and serpentine, ending in a lizard like head with a serrated beak-like mouth. Two forward raking spikes sat in a row along the forehead and as it swung its head to glance at me, I saw its large curious eyes.
"Hurc, galla Dog?" The creature spoke in deep guttural voice as it pointed a powerful arm in my direction. The blades along the elbow and the wrist didn't strike me as an odd decorative choice for some reason.
"No," the reverend said, taking one glance at me. "It's just a stray. They are common in this part of the country."
My Dad emerged from behind the reverend and glared at me, then at the controller I assumed was Sestran.
"Grab it, just to be sure." He said. "If it is just a stray we'll feed it to the Taxxons. If not, it may prove valuable."
The creature lunged for me. Thankfully the Dog and I were on the same page.