Maybe they thought I was the fire escape repairman.
Yeah, right.
For a moment I considered abandoning this plan. Going home and sitting tight.
I was worried about more than just the local tenement rent-a-cop. The kid could be a Controller. This could be a trap. Yeerks could be watching from the roof, or from the abandoned gas station across the street. Waiting for the Andalite bandits to make a move for the camera.
I was also worried about police, the ones that weren’t Controllers. They don’t exactly encourage breaking and entering. Get caught, and I’d be doing time in juvie hall.
On the bright side, I might be dead before anyone could actually catch me.
And, like Rachel, sitting tight is not my thing.
Unfolded, the fire escape was a wobbly black metal ladder with an even wobblier railing. I put my foot on the bottom rung and started to climb.
Jake had said the kid lived on the fifth floor. I went up, passing a bedroom on each floor.
Floor one: bare futon on the floor. Floor two: empty. Floor three: flickering TV, empty beer cans. Floor four: stacks and stacks of books. Floor five —
The room was furnished with a metal frame bed. Tossed sheets. A desk. Empty bag of sourcream-and-onion chips. Some notebooks and pens. And … a disposable camera.
Bingo.
The window itself was cracked, the frame splintered. I easily hauled the window open with one hand. Stopped. Listened. All was quiet. Bent my head, stepped through, lowered myself into the room. Then —
Click, click, click, click, click.
A sound that was all too familiar. The sound of Euclid, my stepmom’s annoying poodle, trying to run on linoleum. The door to the hallway was open. I lunged for it.
“ARF! ARF! ARFARFARFARF!”
CLICKETY CLICKETY CLICKETY CLICKETY!
This didn’t sound like a poodle.
Okay. I’ve been a dog. They are basically happy animals. Anxious to make friends. Even the annoying ones like Euclid.
“Nice doggie,” I said shakily.
Just then Fido poked his head into the room. He was short and stocky. All shoulders, head, neck. Small eyes. Evil, laughing mouth set with a row of serious teeth. Every one of which was on display.
A pit bull.
An angry pit bull.
“Rrrrrrr,” he growled low. A string of drool spilled out of his mouth.
Too far to make a dive for the camera, so …
Morph! But I couldn’t. Couldn’t without the possibility of hurting my friends. Not happening.
That left one choice: Run.
I started to back toward the window.
Fido lunged. Jumped.
“Ahhhhh!” I screamed.
Snarling, snapping teeth — an inch from my nose! I heard Fido’s teeth clank together. Smelled his hot doggy breath.
I put up a hand. “Get away, Cujo!”
Fido sank his teeth into my wrist. He shook his head, sending incredible waves of pain up my arm.
“Get off! Get off!”
Fido shook again.
“Ahhhhhh!” I screamed.
A baseball bat was leaning against a wall. A Louisville slugger. I slid toward it, Fido hanging from my arm like a very ugly charm bracelet. Picked it up with the hand that wasn’t being eaten. Whacked Fido across his haunches. Just hard enough to get his attention — not enough to really hurt him. Okay, so I’d broken into his home but he didn’t have to amputate my arm.
“Arrrr…. .” Fido growled quietly, released, and dropped.
I held up my mangled arm.
Fido backed off about two feet, watching me hungrily.
A neat semicircle of puncture holes marked my wrist. A little blood dripped toward my elbow. Bat under my injured arm, I grabbed an old T-shirt off the bed. Wrapped it around my wrist.
Crap. Yeah, I could morph and demorph to heal the injury — except for the fact that I couldn’t! Wasn’t allowed to. But the pain was pretty intense.
Fido hunkered down and growled low.
Nobody had come running. The apartment must have been empty. Unless Fido’s owners were off somewhere calling the police.
I backed toward the window, still gripping the bat. No time to reach for the camera. I had just climbed out when the sirens started. I pounded down the slippery rungs of the fire escape, feeling light-headed.
How did burglars do this? I wondered ab-sently.
I was running across the empty lot when I felt something tickling my nose. I put up my good hand and brought it away bloody.
Rachel
We pulled ourselves out of the snot.
My right wing was throbbing, hanging loose and broken. I was missing handfuls of feathers.
Tobias hadn’t been seriously injured. But Jake’s beak was broken, Cassie’s neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, and Ax was missing half his feathers. We started to morph back to our own bodies.
The Helmacrons were only a few yards away, shouting and screaming like maniacs. They didn’t seem too worried about their sneezed-out friend.
Cassie added.
My lips softened as my yellow eagle beak turned into human lips. Talons turned into fingers. I felt a distant itching as my feathers flattened out, and the patterns they made on my skin faded like a bad bruise. I was getting bigger, much bigger. Five of me would have been a whole millimeter long.
My broken wing snapped as it twisted and started to grow into a human arm. My insides sloshed and gurgled and turned back into human heart, kidney, liver, lungs.
Suddenly, it was as if someone had turned out the lights. My bird-of-prey vision blinked out.
“Hey,” I said. “It’s really dark in here.”
“We don’t,” Jake said grimly.
“I think I do,” Cassie said. “Marco and I were inside a Helmacron ship. It was very brightly lit.”
Jake made the call: half battle morphs, half creatures that see well at night.
We morphed.
SPROOOT!
Big leathery ears popped from the side of my
head.
SPRONG!
My nose stretched until it was longer than my entire body had been. About a whole half a millimeter. My legs grew massive. Two teeth twisted and grew into curved tusks.
I was at least three times taller than I had been.
A hundred and fifty times heavier.
To the Helmacrons, I was a kitty-sized elephant. Ax, in his own Andalite body, was smaller still. Tobias was a Hork-Bajir at Helmacron mouse scale. Jake and Cassie were fly-sized owls.
We marched forward until we were standing right beneath the Helmacrons. They paid us zero attention.
Jake addressed them.
“Neep! Neep! Neep!” the Helmacrons cheered.
Cassie sighed.
The Helmacrons started laughing or cheering or whatever that “Neep neeping” was.
One of them took the flat of his sword and knocked me off my feet.
“Neep! Neep! Neep!”
Now, I was getting angry. Really angry.
I stumbled to my feet. Ran forward.
So did Tobias and Ax.
An ugly black Helmacron boot was right in front of us. Ax slashed at it with his tail. Tobias carved with his wrist and knee blades. I stood right on top of the boot.
No reaction.
I had no clue what a hilna was. But I wanted to pulverize some!
I stepped off the boot. Then rammed my tusks straight into it. The Helmacron didn’t flinch. He didn’t bleed. He was, however, annoyed.
He drew his Dracon beam. His very, very large Dracon beam.
Tseeew!
I dodged.
The beam barely missed me.
Hit the ground.
And then something awful started to happen. Blood began oozing up under my elephant feet.
Marco was bleeding.
Ax said.
Ax, suggesting something underhanded? That made me nervous. Andalites are big on honor and honesty. If Ax was suggesting subterfuge, the situation was even worse than it appeared.
The Helmacrons’ marble eyes began to roll around madly.
With a clanging of swords, the biggest, nastiest-looking Helmacrons began to run away from us. Well, not away from us, but in the direction we weren’t.
More clanging. More running. The smaller, gentler-looking males took off after the females.
I ran.
Tried to wrap my trunk around a Helmacron’s leg and hold him back. But it was like a bunny trying to stop an eighteen-wheeler.
Not happening.
Over … what?
I let go.
Too late!
One of my massive front legs tipped into an abyss. Momentum dragged my other front leg over. I slipped. Fell.
I tumbled wildly.
Down, down, down into absolute darkness.
Flipping trunk to tail. Over and over. Couldn’t sense the bottom. Couldn’t sense the shape of the tunnel through which I fell.
Above, beneath, beyond Cassie’s voice — a deep, resonating —
Thump thump.
Thump thump.
The slow rhythm vibrated through me the way the bass guitar does at a loud concert. Disconcerting. At the same time, something about the rhythm was comforting, like the hum of the fridge in a darkened kitchen.
Also … I smelled something. Something that wasn’t pleasant. Something sour. Like rotting food. No, not exactly. More like —
Puke!
Oh, man. What else would be in your stomach? Half-digested food mixed with some sort of stomach juice. I didn’t even like thinking about the stuff much less —
KER-PLASH!
I went under!
Submerged into a pitch-black sea.
My elephant body started to sink. And then I realized the fluid surrounding me was strangely hot. My leathery skin began to itch. To burn!
Air!
I flailed my big back legs. Rose higher.
I hit something soft with my head. Something that gave under the impact and sprang back.
The side of Marco’s stomach? Or the top?
My lungs were burning!
Was there air inside a stomach? Good question. And not one I had an answer to. I had to find the opening I’d fallen through! Somehow get back up …
Morph! I told myself.
No time!
I needed air now!
I tried to see above me. Too dark!
Air …
I needed air …
And then, through the panic, like a vision, came an image from the Discovery Channel. An elephant … swimming.
I let the elephant brain bubble up. My massive legs kicked. Slowly, I started to rise. I reached my trunk high, up toward where I thought the air should be.
Yes!
I broke the surface. Sucked air in through my trunk, filling my lungs. Ahhh …
Rotten, stinking air. Glorious.
Whoever says TV isn’t worthwhile isn’t watching the right shows.
I looked around, dazed and disoriented. My weak elephant eyes more useless than before. But the sounds! Overwhelming sounds. Sloshing. Bubbling. Far away, that low thump thump. Also — voices!
Tseeew!
I jerked sideways.
The Dracon beam shot went wide.
The Helmacrons!
The beam had lit up the air pocket long enough for me to see I was sharing the cavernous space with eight or ten of them. They were huddled together, way off to my left side. To me in my subminiature state, they seemed about half a mile away.
More media imagery. Now it was the drowning scene in Titanic. Only instead of Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet, this nightmare flick starred a pachyderm and a handful of marble-eyed aliens.
Tseeew!
That wild shot let me see that though the Helmacrons’ legs were submerged, the rest of their bodies bobbed above the liquid. Treading water or floating? Couldn’t tell. Couldn’t see any effort to stay afloat.
I could, however, hear them arguing.
Tseeew!
Missed.
Tseeew!
Missed.
The Helmacrons’ aim was way off.
But I almost didn’t care because the pain in my skin was intensifying. Hundreds, thousands of raw nerve endings were screaming madly. The ironic part about all this was that it wasn’t the first time I’d been nearly digested. But that’s another story.
Jake:
The Journey Page 4