For big Michael and little Jake
CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
DEDICATION
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
SNEAK PEEK
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COPYRIGHT
My name is Marco.
I’ve always kind of liked my name. Marco. It brings Marco Polo to mind. Not that my last name is Polo. Or maybe it is. I’m not going to tell you.
None of us will tell you our last names. None of us Animorphs. Or where we live. Or anything else that would help the Yeerks find us.
Yeerks? What are Yeerks? you wonder.
I’ll tell you. They are a species of parasites. Like tapeworms, only worse. See, Yeerks don’t just crawl up inside your stomach or intestines. They crawl inside your brain. They sink their malleable bodies into the nooks and crannies of your brain. They tie straight into your brain’s neurons. They control your brain. They control you more completely than it is possible for you to imagine.
You think, Oh, well, I would still be able to keep control over myself. But you’d be wrong. See, if you had a Yeerk in your head right now, it would be the Yeerk that would be moving your hands and fingers; the Yeerk who’d be focusing your eyes; the Yeerk who’d be deciding if you were hungry.
The Yeerks enter your brain and make you a slave. They open your memories and read them like a book. You can still think, sure. You can still feel. You can be afraid or angry or humiliated. But you can do nothing on your own. It is a slavery more total than any ever experienced on Earth. But then, the Yeerks aren’t from Earth.
People with Yeerks in their heads are called Controllers. Human-Controllers, if the Yeerk has taken over a human. Hork-Bajir-Controllers, when the victim is a Hork-Bajir. Although pretty much all Hork-Bajir are Controllers, so we don’t really bother to say “Hork-Bajir-Controllers.”
We fight the Yeerk invasion led by the evil creature, Visser Three. Five human kids and an Andalite kid. We’re the only people who know what’s happening. Just us. And the Yeerks, of course.
And how do we fight? With the morphing power given to us by a dying Andalite prince. The power to become any animal we can touch.
The power to morph.
How do you know who is a Controller and who isn’t? That’s the problem. You don’t. You can look deep into the eyes of the person you trust most and never, ever guess that behind those eyes is an alien parasite.
Now you know why I won’t tell you my last name. Or where I live. Not even what state. See, I want to live. I want to live to fight.
And one day, I want to live to rescue the one person who matters most to me. The person whose eyes I looked into for years without knowing she was no longer my mother.
But being an Animorph is not always danger and battle. There are other times when the powers we possess can be useful. Even fun.
And on a nice Wednesday afternoon after school, I was at the mall with the others, doing just that: having fun. And we weren’t at the usual, everyday mall. This was the new, massive Mega Mall they’d built across town.
It was Cassie’s idea, oddly enough. Normally she’d be the last person to ever cook up a harebrained scheme. But this involved mistreating animals. And you don’t want to mess with animals when Cassie is around.
“Squuuaaaakk! The food is good! The food is good! Squuuaaakkk!”
It was me, Jake, Cassie, Tobias, Rachel, and Ax. Ax was in human morph, of course. So was Tobias. Tobias has regained his ability to morph now, but he’s still a red-tailed hawk. He can morph into his old human shape, but if he stays in that shape more than two hours, he’ll be trapped in it and never be able to morph again. He made the choice to live as a hawk and keep his morphing power.
I don’t know if I’d have been tough enough to make that choice.
As for Ax, well, he’s an Andalite. He has a human morph he uses sometimes. He was using it now, fortunately, or otherwise there would have been a lot of screaming and panicking and general weirding-out. An Andalite walking around the mall is something you notice.
“Squuuaaaakkkk! Try the Rain Forest burger. It’s squuuaaaakkk good!”
In this mall was a restaurant called the Amazon Cafe. It was a cool restaurant because it was like going on some ride at Disney World. The tables were totally surrounded by plants and stuff arranged to look like a jungle. There were lots of fake birds and fake alligators and fake snakes in fake trees.
Unfortunately, there were also some real birds. Parrots, to be exact. These parrots were out where people wait in line to get a table. They were on perches, surrounded by people. Old people, young people, cool people, annoying people. People who would try to scare the birds or feed them garbage or poke them with cigarette butts.
Which annoyed Cassie. It annoyed her so badly she had come to me and asked, “Marco, what can I do to save those poor birds? They aren’t allowed any dignity!”
And I had said, “Hmmm. Parrots, right? They talk, right?”
“Yeah. Why? Do you have an idea?”
“Oh, yes. I have a definite idea.”
And now, a couple days after that conversation, we were at the mall. And we were right in the forefront of people annoying the parrots.
“Say ‘Howard Stern rules!’” a kid urged a bright green parrot.
“Squuuaaaakkk! Amazon Cafe! It’s an adventure!”
“No, idiot bird dude, Howard Stern rules, man! Say ‘Howard Stern rules!’”
“Moron,” Rachel sneered.
The kid turned to her. “Yeah, this bird is a total moron.”
“I wasn’t talking about the bird, you —”
Jake put his hand on Rachel’s shoulder, quieting her down. Rachel has an occasional problem with anger. And she has no tolerance for jerks.
Rachel is tall and blond and beautiful and totally without fear. Now, sure, way down inside she’s also insecure, scared by her own inability to fit in, and way too pressured to live up to her own high standards. But all that stuff is way down inside. Way down so far that if you ever tried to reach it, she’d have sliced and diced you before you even got close.
“Okay, let’s do this,” Jake said. “It’s almost time for them to clean the parrot perches, if Cassie’s timing is right.”
“Every day at this time,” Cassie assured us. “In fact, here comes the woman who does it.”
I saw a twenty-something woman in a waitress uniform coming toward us. She was carrying a large wire cage.
“Squuuuaaaakkk! Pot stickers! Pot stickers! Squuuaaaakkkk!”
“Okay, we’re straight on this? Rachel, Marco, Cassie, and me, follow her to the back. Tobias and Ax, you stay here as backup.”
“Backup,” Ax agreed. “Ba-kup. Bakkup. Look! Is that the place where cinnamon buns are created? Oh, cinnamon buns. Bunzuh.”
Jake sighed. “Maybe after we’re done we could go to Cinnabon,” he said in his talking-to-lunatics voice.
See, in his own body, Ax has no mouth. Andalites talk by thought-speech and eat through their hooves. So when he’s human, the Ax-man can get a little weird about spoken sounds. And a lot w
eird about flavor. And utterly insane when exposed to cinnamon buns, which, as far as Ax is concerned, are the finest things the human race has ever created. Forget music and art. Ax would trade a Cinnabon for the Mona Lisa, straight across.
“Okay, she’s going!” Cassie warned.
The woman had stuffed the four parrots into the cage and was heading back into the restaurant. We followed her.
“Duh duh, duh duh, duh duh, duh duh, duh duh,” I sang, doing the theme from Mission: Impossible. “Your mission, should you decide to accept it: Give the parrots back their dignity and strike a blow for Mommy Earth!”
Cassie rolled her eyes at me. Jake hid a smile.
“I can’t believe you’re going along with this, Jake. Responsible Jake giving his okay to a totally personal use of our powers. Never thought I’d see the day,” I teased him. “It’s ’cause he really likes Cassie,” I added to Rachel in a stage whisper.
“It’s because I know that if I didn’t say yes, Cassie would do it anyway, and she’d get Rachel to go along, and possibly you, and the three of you need someone … someone sensible along.”
“Yes, Dad,” I mocked.
Jake made this deep-in-the-throat grinding noise he makes sometimes. But I just laughed. Jake’s been my best friend forever. He may be leader of the Animorphs, but that doesn’t mean I have to take him too seriously.
We followed the woman and the parrots up to the point when she walked through a doorway into a storage room. We waited till she came back out and headed up to clean the parrot perch. Then into the storage room we went.
“Dee dee dee, dee dee dee, dee dee dee, da dum!” I hummed.
“Have I mentioned shut up, Marco?” Rachel asked me in a conversational tone.
“Okay, come on, you guys,” Cassie urged.
We went to the parrot cage. Cassie removed the birds one by one, placing them into our hands. The birds remained very quiet as we acquired them.
That’s what we call it when we absorb the DNA of an animal: acquiring. It always puts the animal in a kind of trance. The parrots were no different.
We hid the parrots in a well-ventilated cupboard. Cassie assured us it was safe. And now all that was left to do was to become the parrots. To morph the parrots.
So that’s what we did.
Most people would think morphing into an animal is fun. And I guess it is. But what it is, more than fun, is terrifying. And bizarre. And extreme.
Until you’ve done it, it’s impossible to really understand how extreme it is.
The body you’ve had since you were born, the body with two arms and two legs and a head with your own personal face stuck on the front, changes. It changes completely. Until nothing is left of you but your mind. You don’t have your fingers to wiggle, or your legs to stand on, or your mouth to talk with. You look at the world through another animal’s eyes.
As I focused my mind on the parrot, I felt the changes begin. The first thing that happened was that my skin turned green.
Not that tinge of green you might get when you’re sick or something. I’m talking GREEN. Brilliant, glowing, lustrous green. The green of the parrot’s feathers.
“Whoa! Cool!” I said.
And it was cool, because at that same moment, the others were changing colors, too. Jake was turning as white as snow. Dead white. Rachel was a fascinating mix of yellow and orange. And Cassie … well, Cassie has a sort of unconscious talent for morphing. On her, deep crimson, red the color of blood, spread down from her shoulders, down and down her arms, down to her fingertips. Then the color rose up her neck, to change her face like it was a glass pitcher being slowly filled with cherry Kool-Aid. The very last things to change were the whites of her eyes. For a brief second they shone white, then, like all the rest of her, they turned red.
Once my entire body was brilliant green, I began to shrink. The dirty floor of the storeroom rose up to meet me. It was like I was falling. Like I’d passed out and was dropping facefirst toward the floor.
And as I shrank, my feet became bird feet. My thick, solid human bones became hollow bird bones. My internal organs, my lungs and stomach and liver, all twisted around in ways that should have made me scream in agony — except for the fact that morphing technology deadens pain.
My green skin became even brighter as I became smaller. Feather patterns drew themselves across my skin. My fingers sprouted outward and thinned to become feathers.
And then my face simply exploded outward. My entire face. Just, SPROOT! My teeth, my lips, my nose, my chin, all bulged out like they were made of Silly Putty and someone was sticking their fist through from behind.
My skin — the skin that had been my cheeks and lips — turned hard. Hard as old fingernails. My huge, ridiculously large parrot beak was forming. It was the color of old-man fingernails.
I looked out at my friends through sharply focused eyes. Not quite hawk eyes, but better than human vision.
And right about then, I felt the parrot brain bubble up within my own human mind. It was weird. I’ve dealt with animal brains that were nothing but fear, like a mouse brain, and animal brains that were all about killing, like a wolf spider’s brain. I’ve even had to deal with the machinelike, soulless brain of the ant. But it is rare to actually feel something like intelligence in that animal brain.
I’ve been a gorilla and a dolphin, and both of those are very smart animals. The parrot wasn’t that smart, but there was definite thinking power in that brain. The parrot could think. It could reason. And, I realized, it could feel. It could feel emotions beyond simple instinct.
The parrot brain didn’t overwhelm my human consciousness. It was just there. And as I began to realize how complex that brain was, I began to understand why Cassie was so mad.
A few minutes later, the woman came to carry us back out to the clean perches. I looked around at the crowd gathered there.
Here’s a clue: It’s not easy talking when you have no lips. All the sounds have to kind of be made in the throat. Like a ventriloquist. But I figured it out. We all did. And then there was nothing left for us to do but talk to all the people standing in line.
And talk is what we did.
“Squuuuaaaakkk! Amazon burgers are made with cat meat! Squuuaaaakkk!”
“Squuuaaaakkk! Try our spaghetti with hair!”
“Squuuaaaakkk! Amazon Cafe nachos and toe jam!”
Tobias was in the crowd smirking as he watched the people turn slightly green. Ax was with him, scarfing a slice of pizza he’d gotten somewhere. I could only hope it wasn’t from the trash.
“Squuuaaakkk! Botulism! Food poisoning!”
“Squuuaaakkk! Enjoy the fried booger strips!”
Oddly enough, many people standing in line decided to go and find another restaurant. The restaurant manager took about five minutes to decide that real-live parrots were maybe not a good idea. But we decided we’d make dead sure he got the message.
“Squuaaaakkk! By the way, is that your nose or are you eating a banana?”
“Squuaaakkk! What’s that on your head, a wombat?”
“Squuaaakkkk! It’s a toupee! It’s a toupee! Squuaaakkk!”
“Squuaaakkk! We should
be flying free in our native habitat!”
That last one was Cassie, of course. It was a little talky for a parrot, if you asked me.
After that we were outta there. I spotted Tobias applauding softly and laughing. I was feeling pretty good, pretty cocky. Until I saw another face behind Tobias, way back in the crowd.
I knew the face. Erek.
Erek, the Chee.
Erek the Chee used to be Erek this guy I knew from school. But Erek is a lot more than just some guy.
The Chee are a race of androids. They pass as humans by projecting a sort of holographic energy field around themselves that looks human. Erek may look like a kid. But he is older than human history.
The Chee came to Earth hundreds of thousands of years ago. They were companions to the Pemalites, whose home planet had been devastated by a violent invasion. The Pemalites had fled, but too late. By the time they reached Earth, the Pemalites were finished.
Their deathless androids did all they could. They gave the essence of the Pemalites a new life. They melded them with wolves. And from this union dogs were born.
If you know how basically sweet and faithful and loving dogs are, you know what the Pemalites were like. And you also know a little of what the Chee are like.
The Chee are peaceful, but not out of weakness. Erek, all by himself, could have taken on every person in the mall that day, beaten them all, and ripped the mall down around our ears. Literally.
But the Chee are pacifists. It’s the way they are. They are also enemies of the Yeerks. They watch the Yeerks and learn about them, and, in their nonviolent way, do all they can to delay the Yeerks.
Erek waited till we were done with our little prank. He waited till I was walking away through the mall with Jake. We had split from the others so as not to look like a “group.”
“Hi, Marco,” Erek said. “Hello, Jake.”
We didn’t exactly rush over to throw our arms around him. We’d seen what happened the one time Erek did go postal. It was hard to forget. Hard to treat someone that powerful like just another kid.
“Hi, Erek, how’s it going?” Jake asked guardedly.
“Fine. And we know, through our sources, that you have been doing good work against … against our mutual acquaintances.” He lowered his voice. “I think we’d better have some privacy.”
The Escape Page 1