MARCO
The fight's a blur—pounding heart, raw muscle, the stench of blood, and the snarls and growls of battle mixing with the roar of the storm. Rain pours in sheets, turning the ground to mud and drenching everything in cold, stinging water. Flashes of lightning rip through the sky, illuminating the chaos in harsh, blinding bursts. Thunder booms like the wrath of some angry god, shaking me to my core.
David's still on my shoulder, crying and screaming, and the blue box is in my hand—a glowing, infuriating symbol of the mess we're in. The rain streaks down my face, mingling with the sweat and blood already there.
One of the Hork-Bajir swings a blade-covered arm at me, but Cassie dives into the fight just in time. Her wolf form is a blur of wet fur and snapping teeth, her jaws sinking deep into the creature's arm. The Hork-Bajir screeches, a sound swallowed by the storm, and stumbles back, collapsing. Cassie doesn't hesitate. She launches herself at another one, her growls barely audible over the pounding rain.
Meanwhile, Rachel is still holding her ground behind us, blood mixing with rain as it streaks down her golden-brown fur. Lightning flashes, illuminating her snarling face as she faces off with another Hork-Bajir. She's relentless, taking slashes that would've taken me down ten times over, but she's not giving an inch. That's Rachel for you—fearless to the point of insanity.
[Move, move, move!] I yell, panic creeping into my voice. David's still wailing in my ear, his weight pulling on my shoulder, but I push forward. I'm not sure how we're getting out of this alive, but standing still isn't an option.
Cassie sinks her teeth into the leg of another Hork-Bajir, tripping it up. The alien crashes to the muddy ground, thrashing in the dirt. Cassie barely hesitates, her wolf's growl sharp and commanding as she tosses me a glance. Her eyes are wild, focused, and laser-locked on survival.
[Marco! Head to the golf course! Maybe we can get him out that way!]
It's not a plan—it's a vague suggestion wrapped in desperation. But it's all I've got. Without another word, I take off after Cassie. She moves like a shadow, weaving effortlessly through the yard, her paws splashing through puddles. I'm stumbling behind her, hauling David like he's a sack of soggy potatoes and trying not to collapse under it all.
My side burns where I was nicked earlier, and the rain stings like acid as it runs into the cut. But I shove the pain aside, focusing on the sucking squelch of mud underfoot and the need to keep moving. Complaining isn't an option when Rachel's still back there, practically bathing in blood and rain and somehow refusing to quit.
David's cries turn to quiet sobs, his energy drained. Good. At least I don't have to worry about him flailing and taking us both down.
Suddenly, a shrill wail of sirens cuts through the storm, sharp and jarring. My heart leaps into my throat. The Hork-Bajir freeze, their reptilian faces lit briefly by another flash of lightning. For one terrifying moment, I think we're all done for. Then, Visser Three's voice slithers into my head like the world's worst migraine.
[This isn't over! We will find you, Andalites! And you will pay!]
He storms off, his fury radiating like heat even in the cold rain. The Hork-Bajir hesitate for a second longer before following him, their heavy footfalls splashing through the mud. Relief crashes over me, but it's short-lived.
Jake's voice cuts through the static in my brain, sharp and commanding despite the chaos.
[Cassie, Marco, get him and the box out of here! Everyone else, birds now!]
Even drenched, bleeding, and overwhelmed, Jake's still Jake. Still our leader.
I don't stop running. My gorilla legs churn through the mud, carrying David and the blue box as fast as I can. The golf course stretches out ahead of us, wide and exposed, the rain hammering down on the open ground. The trees at the far edge seem impossibly far away, like a mirage.
Cassie leads the way, darting ahead in her wolf morph, her movements quick and calculated. I follow, my arms and legs burning, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The sirens fade slightly as we reach the trees. The moment I step into the shadow of the tree line, I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. My legs are jelly, my arms numb from carrying David, but there's no time to stop.
I push through the brush, stumbling into a small patch of cover. Cassie's right behind me, her wolf body moving like a shadow. Her ears twitch constantly, scanning for any sign of danger.
Dropping David to the ground as gently as possible, I collapse next to him, trying to catch my breath. My muscles tremble, my side burning from the cut. The rain doesn't let up, soaking us to the bone, the cold biting through my skin.
Cassie and I demorph, practically falling over in exhaustion.
David's house is still visible through the trees, a mangled shell of what it used to be. The windows are shattered, jagged shards reflecting the dim light of the storm. A gaping hole replaces the back door, and the second story is barely there—most of it caved in or blown apart. The yard is a wasteland, churned into mud, scattered with uprooted bushes, broken branches, and debris. Police cars and fire trucks screech to a stop in front of the house, their lights slicing through the rain in eerie, rhythmic flashes. The scene is chaos incarnate.
Above the chaos, I spot birds—sharp and fast against the stormy sky. A red-tailed hawk, a peregrine falcon, a northern harrier, and a bald eagle. Thank God they all made it out.
Jake's peregrine falcon form cuts through the storm, his silhouette barely visible against the dark sky. He dips low, wings slicing through the rain, and his voice reaches us in a sharp, urgent tone.
[I'll grab my car and meet you by the road. It'll be faster and easier than trying to carry him anywhere.]
I give him a sarcastic little salute.
Jake doesn't respond, just flies off toward the horizon, his small form cutting through the rain like a knife.
As we sit in the freezing rain, soaked and shivering, I mutter, "You know, if we live through this, I'm demanding a bonus. Hazard pay, emotional trauma pay, babysitting fees—"
Cassie cuts me off, rolling her eyes. "Marco."
I sigh, crouching next to David. "Fine. Let's just hope Jake doesn't take forever. Otherwise, we're dragging Sleeping Beauty here all the way to the barn."
The hard part isn't over yet.
/
By some miracle, we all make it to Cassie's barn. We're soaked to the bone, and the rain's still coming down, though not as hard as before. It's that cold, relentless drizzle that soaks you to the skin, making the night feel even darker, heavier. The barn smells like hay, animals, and sweat—rich, earthy, and unsettling all at once. Every breath feels thick in my chest, like there's no room to escape the weight of what's happened. And David… David's out cold, his body limp and silent. I can't help but feel a little relieved; at least he's not panicking right now. We're all barely holding it together as it is.
Cassie's barn is usually a safe place, a place where we can breathe, but tonight, it feels more like a cage. The floor creaks under our feet as we move inside, and the low sound of rain pelting the roof creates a constant, almost suffocating noise in the background. I can feel the anxiety building in the pit of my stomach. I know what's coming. The conversation we have to have. The one we all dread.
We barely have time to breathe before Jake kicks off the debate. He stands tall, his face set with that grim determination he wears whenever it's time to make the hard calls. We all know we can't let the Yeerks get their hands on him. Not just because it's a fate worse than death, but because it'll point a big, flashing arrow straight to me and Rachel. We're the ones who were with him when everything went to hell. The Yeerks won't take long to figure out that the "Andalite bandits" are just a bunch of idiot teenagers.
David finally stirs, groggy and disoriented, and Jake's already bracing himself. He's ready to lay it all out, but I'm not sure I am. I feel a twinge of guilt when I look at David. This is the moment where his life changes forever. And there's no going back.
We have to tell him everything.
I watch as Jake's words hit David like a freight train. He's stunned, disbelieving, his eyes wide and unblinking. When Ax demorphs into his Andalite form right in front of him, I can see the panic creep into David's face. His entire world is falling apart, and we're the ones delivering the blows.
I feel a pang of sympathy for him. I remember the first time I learned the truth. The first time I saw what was really out there. It's terrifying, overwhelming, and impossible to accept all at once. I know what he's going through. But that doesn't make it easier.
David's first questions hit me like a brick: "When can I go home? When can I see my parents again?"
The silence in the barn thickens, every second dragging by. His words hang in the air, and I'm not sure what I would have said if Cassie hadn't spoken up.
Her voice is steady and calm, like it always is when things are at their worst. "David, we don't think your parents are… they've probably already been taken by the Yeerks."
I see the shock hit him like a wave. I can almost hear his mind screaming in denial. But there's nothing we can do to stop it. He's in this now. And the truth will break him, whether he's ready for it or not.
He goes quiet, his face falling as the weight of the words settles in. His body language shifts—shocked, numb, like it hasn't fully hit him yet. But it will.
David finally agrees to crash at the barn for the night. It's not like he has a home to go to. His life, everything he knew, has been ripped away in a matter of hours. And now he's stuck with us.
And we're stuck with him.
Cassie's quick to make him a makeshift bed in the back office, where it's quieter. We could all use a little rest, but I know it's not going to happen. Not with the weight of what we've just laid on him.
Rachel's the one who stays with him, to answer any questions he might have, and for some reason, I feel a knot tighten in my stomach. I don't like the way David looks at her when he thanks her for staying. Even in his shock, I see the way his eyes linger on her, a mix of gratitude and something else—something I can't quite place, but it makes my stomach churn. I push the feeling away, but it lingers, sitting uncomfortably in my chest. It's probably nothing, I tell myself.
As everyone starts to head off to their respective homes, I notice Tobias staying behind, perched high up on the rafters. I can tell he's not just watching the rain outside. He's watching David. Keeping an eye on him. He always has a way of watching from above, always alert, always ready.
I can't blame him. Tonight, we're all on edge. And we're not out of danger yet.