RACHEL

We move to Cassie's dad's office. I pick up the phone and dial David's number, doing my best to ignore the weight of my friends' stares from across the room. My fingers fumble with the numbers, and I curse under my breath as I try again. The heat rises in my face, knowing they're all just standing there, pretending not to listen, but I can feel their tension thick in the air.

The phone rings once. Twice. On the third ring, he picks up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Rachel. From the park earlier? Is this David?"

There's a brief pause before he responds, his voice warm and upbeat. "It is! I'm so glad you called. I'd never forget running into a gorgeous girl like you. Literally," he laughs, the sound easy and charming. "So, what's up?"

I hesitate, glancing over at the others. Marco stands off to the side, arms crossed tightly, his posture tense, like he's trying not to scowl. I ignore him for a moment, refocusing on the phone. "Actually, I'm calling to collect on that dinner you owe me. Are you free later?"

His reply comes quick, almost too quick. "For you? Absolutely." The enthusiasm in his voice catches me off guard and makes me smile despite everything. "But I've got an errand to run first. I found a buyer for that weird box I showed you. But after that? I'm all yours."

My stomach drops, and my heart races. A buyer. The box. He's talking about the blue box, and now panic floods my thoughts. If he's already selling it—if it's online—there's no telling who might be tracking him. The Yeerks could be on his tail right now. My grip on the phone tightens, but I don't let my voice shake.

I glance at my friends, feeling their eyes on me. They're watching, waiting. The tension is almost tangible. I force myself to stay calm. "Right, of course. Just—wow, how did you find a buyer so quickly?"

There's a brief pause on the other end, and I feel the tension climb. "It's crazy," he says. "I posted the box on eBay, and this guy responded almost immediately. I'm meeting him around five. Shouldn't take long. Maybe you and I could grab dinner around six at that little Italian place by the mall?"

My pulse quickens. That's not a lot of time to figure out what's going on and get the box from him. He could be dealing with the Yeerks sooner than this evening, or worse, they could already be tracking him. I've got to move fast.

I glance over at Jake, who's moving quietly toward Ax. He mutters something low to him, and Ax pauses, narrowing his alien eyes. I don't know what's going on, but it's clear we all have to act quickly.

I force a smile and keep my voice casual, though inside I'm spinning. "I love Italian. Sounds perfect. Can't wait."

He sounds pleased when he replies, "Can't wait either." There's a smile in his voice, and it makes my stomach flip a little. "I'll see you tonight."

The line clicks, and I slowly set the receiver back into its cradle. My hand lingers on it, fingers gripping the edge like it's the only thing keeping me grounded. My chest tightens, and I force myself to take a steadying breath. Around me, the barn feels too small, the walls closing in as my mind races. The Yeerks could already be onto him. We have to move fast.

I turn to face the others, their expectant faces a sharp contrast to the chaos inside my head. "He's selling the box," I say, each word landing like a stone in the silence. "He posted it online. Someone responded almost immediately. He's meeting them at five."

For a moment, no one says anything. The weight of what I've just shared settles heavily in the room. Marco leans against the wall, arms crossed, his face unusually serious. Cassie looks down, her brows knit together in worry. Jake's pacing slows, and he rubs a hand over his face.

It's Marco who finally breaks the silence. "If the Yeerks saw that post—and let's face it, they probably did—they're not going to wait until five."

Jake stops pacing and turns to Ax, who's hunched over Cassie's dad's old computer. The screen flickers as it struggles to keep up with Ax's rapid typing. "Can you find out where David lives?"

Ax doesn't look up, his main eyes locked on the screen while his stalk eyes swivel toward Jake. [Yes. If the site retains location metadata, I can extract the coordinates of the device used to create the listing.] His voice is calm, efficient, but there's an edge to it, like he's annoyed at the ancient machine groaning under his commands.

"How long will it take?" Jake asks, resuming his pacing.

[It depends on the complexity of the site's security and the speed of this… outdated device] Ax replies, his tone tinged with irritation.

Marco snorts, the sound sharp in the quiet. "Translation: too long."

Ax ignores him, his fingers flying over the keys. [If I am successful, I will identify David's location.]

Jake nods, already shifting gears. "Okay. Let's assume Ax can track the address in time. Here's the plan: we sneak in, grab the box, and get out before the Yeerks show up."

Marco pushes off the wall, his voice dark. "And if the Yeerks beat us to it?"

Jake's jaw tightens. "Then we don't let them leave with the box."

The room is quiet again, everyone absorbing the weight of that statement.

"And what about David?" The question slips out before I can stop it, my voice sharper than I intended.

Jake stops pacing and turns to look at me. His face is calm, but his shoulders are stiff, tension radiating off him. "The priority is the blue box."

"That's not an answer," I say, stepping forward, my frustration spilling over.

Cassie clears her throat, her voice soft but firm. "Maybe we can warn him. Tell him to leave, go somewhere safe."

Marco shakes his head, his expression dark. "Yeah, and the Yeerks just let him go, no questions asked? Sure, that'll work." His sarcasm cuts through the air, bitter and cold.

"We can't let the Yeerks get him," I say, my voice rising as I turn to Jake. "Even if we get the box, they'll still take David. You know they will."

Jake's jaw clenches, and for a moment, he doesn't respond. Finally, he says, "We'll do what we can, Rachel, but the mission comes first."

I want to argue, to yell, but the words catch in my throat. It's not just the mission anymore. It's David. And I can't shake the feeling that leaving him behind is going to haunt me.

Ax suddenly straightens, his stalk eyes swiveling toward us with a hint of excitement. [I have located his residence. The post was created approximately 8.2 miles from here.] He rattles off the address.

Jake doesn't waste a second. "Let's move. Everyone, morph."

No time for arguments, no time for second guesses. Around me, everyone starts to change, feathers sprouting, arms shrinking into wings. I follow, focusing on the bald eagle DNA inside me as my body shifts. My vision sharpens as the morph takes hold, the office's dusty interior bursting into vivid clarity.

The dread in my stomach doesn't loosen as I stretch my wings. If anything, it tightens, gnawing at me. This isn't just about the box anymore. It's about David.

Jake's peregrine falcon form glances at each of us, a silent signal. Without a word, we take off together, shooting out the window and into the open sky.