The Conspiracy Read online

  We parked. I tensed. Things could get hairy again.

  The leg swung out into chillier air and brighter light.

  My dad stood up. Stretched. Pulled his medical bag out of the backseat. And we were off to the office.

  Swing forward . . . Crunch! . . . Swing back. Swing forward . . . Crunch! . . . Swing back.

  «Jake, I'm here,» Tobias reported in. «No sign that anyone followed you.»

  «That was quick travel!» I said.

  «Soon as I saw you guys leave I headed here. And I was already more than half the way here.»

  Somewhere above me, invisible to my roach senses, were a red-tailed hawk and, if Ax had followed the plan, a seagull.

  «There is a human watching Jake's father closely,» Ax reported. «He is a large human with more than the typical amount of facial fur. He

  56 appears to be forming facial expressions associated with anger.»

  «A ticked-off bearded guy?» Tobias translated. «Can't see him. Must still be under the ... Okay, I got him. Yeah. He does look ticked off about something. But he's not making any kind of move.»

  My dad stopped walking. Wooosh. A door opening. We moved. Closing behind us.

  We were in.

  As soon as my father stepped into his own office I shot down his leg and hid under the garbage can near his desk.

  Waited.

  No frantic swiping disturbed the air currents.

  Good. Then he hadn't even known I'd hitched a ride.

  The floor trembled.

  Someone was walking toward my father's office.

  "Good morning, Doc. We have a full schedule today. It's ear-infection central out there."

  Ten minutes later the first kid came in with his mom.

  I spent the day zigging and zagging, zipping along the walls and squeezing into crevices to avoid being seen and squashed.

  Every two hours I demorphed and remorphed in the bathroom. The first time it was nerve-wracking. I scrawled a hasty note on a piece of

  57 paper towel and stuck it onto the last stall with some used gum.

  The note said out of order.

  After that I felt a little safer in the out-of-order stall.

  It was boring beyond belief. But it gave me a lot of time to think. Too much time.

  I'd started out hoping this crisis would give me a way to destroy Tom's Yeerk. Now I was down to hoping I could save my dad from Tom's fate.

  I was playing a defensive game. It's easier to attack. On the attack you can pick the time and place. On the defense all you can do is wait. Wait for the enemy to pick his time and his place. And wear out your resources and your people waiting, waiting, knowing all it takes is for the enemy to get lucky and all your tense, cramped-up waiting will be for nothing.

  My dad's never been my doctor. I go to one of his partners. You know, it'd be creepy otherwise.

  I'd always thought it was pretty cool that he was a doctor. But I guess I hadn't really thought much about it.

  On this day, though, there wasn't much else to focus on. So I focused on my dad. Always nice. Always gentle. Joking with the kids and reassuring the moms and dads. Staying calm while the littler kids screamed bloody murder and vibrated the very walls.

  58 He was a good guy, my dad. Not just because he was my dad. Because he was a good person. Because he did his work as well as he knew how and wasn't a jerk to the people around him. That doesn't make you a saint or anything, but I guess when I think about it, that's what I hope I'll do when I'm older: treat my family right, do my job well, not be a jerk to the people I meet. Maybe that's not a huge, ambitious goal, but it would be enough for me. I've done the hero thing. You can have the hero thing. Me, I wanted a day when all I'd have to do was be a decent human being.

  It was a long day.

  "Good night, everyone," my dad called, finally. "I'll be back Wednesday at the latest. Have a good weekend, Jeannie. You, too, Mary Anne. Stay out of trouble."

  A laugh followed us out the door. Now we were moving.

  My father was heading out of the office. Back into possible danger.

  «0kay, guys, we're moving toward you. We'll be back in the parking deck in a couple of minutes^ I called.

  «Hey, Jake?» Tobias said worriedly. «Uh, I don't know if this means anything but the bearded guy is back, hanging around near the elevator.»

  «Which floor?» I asked, although I already knew.

  59 The one my father was parked on, of course.

  Tobias confirmed it. Ax confirmed it, too.

  Hesitate at the door. Then we were outside.

  My antennae quivered at the change in the air.

  No time to demorph and remorph. If the bearded guy was part of an attack, I was useless.

  Nothing but a roach in a cuff.

  «Ax?»

  «Yes,» Ax said. «l am by your father's vehicles

  «ls there any place you can morph without being seen?» I asked.

  «l have been demorphing behind a large trash receptacle in the alley behind this structure; however, I cannot get back from there to my present position without being seen,» Ax replied. «Should I proceed?»

  I didn't know.

  If an Andalite suddenly arrived on the scene to save my father, the Yeerks would put two and two together, realize someone close to Tom - like his little brother - knew about his plan, and the Animorphs would be dead.

  But in our present morphs, we'd be helpless.

  What should I do?

  Lose everyone?

  Or just my father?

  if-

  60 «Trince Jake, do you have any instructions for me?»

  «Jake. Make the call, man.»

  My family or my friends.

  Save one man or save the world.

  I was a bug! I couldn't save anyone.

  An overt rescue would save my dad and doom us all. Including him.

  «What's happening now?» I asked.

  «Your father is walking toward his car,» Ax said. «The man with the facial fur is following him.»

  «How close?»

  «He's about four feet behind your dad,» Tobias said. He was tense. «And closing fast.»

  I scampered up and out of the cuff. Onto the

  61 pant leg. Around to the back of the knee. The fabric crinkled with each step. I was horizontal, with the ground on my right. I couldn't see far enough to be sure, but there seemed to be a large, dark wall moving in behind my father. «Am I looking at him?»

  «Yes,» Ax said.

  Okay. Fine. I might be in a bug's body but I still had a human brain.

  I hauled a left and went vertical. Up the pants. Onto the jacket. Up the jacket. Zooming at roach speed along a vertical plane of dry wool fibers.

  I came to a stop on the slope of a shoulder. An ear the size of Nantucket loomed above me.

  Closer. The dark wall was coming closer. I could almost see a face, a blur, a bristling mass bigger than a rain cloud.

  «Jake, what're you doing?» Tobias asked sharply.

  «l'm doing what a roach does best,» I said.

  «What?»

  «Grossing people out and making them say . . .»

  I motored. I cranked open the roach's almost useless wings. I flew straight for that beard.

  "Aaaahhhhh!" the man yelled.

  I landed on his lower lip. The tiny hairs on my legs caught and clung.

  62 He spit. A hurricane explosion of wind!

  But I was down on his chin hairs now, walking gingerly from split hair to split hair, like I was tiptoeing across treetops.

  "Ugh! Ugh! A beetle!" the man shouted. We began to spin and whirl. He slapped his own face. "Get it off me!"

  I zigged left. Then right.

  Motored toward his ear. Little roach feet tickled waxy ear skin.

  He went wild.

  I kept going, on up to his head. Onto thick, matted hair.

  "What the heck ..." I heard my father say in astonishment. "Excuse me, sir, but are you all right?"
/>   Go! I wanted to tell him. Run, Dad! Run for your life!

  «0n our way, Jake!» Tobias yelled.

  «NO!» I yelled. «Back off! Back off!»

  Suddenly, the air rushed and shimmered with the swoosh of wings.

  "Tseeeeeer!" Tobias swooped down, talons extended. I caught an indistinct but terrifying flash of ripping talons.

  "Aaaahhh! Aaaahhh!" the man yelled. He was literally beating at his face with one hand to kill me and waving the other in the air to fight off the lunatic hawk and the insane seagull.

  63 Quite suddenly I realized I was no longer on the man. I was on his hair. But I was not on the man anymore.

  The hair... the toupee . . . was in Tobias's talons being carried off like a doomed mouse.

  «l'm going to circle back for-» Tobias began.

  «No! No!» I yelled, angry. «We might as well tattoo "The Animorphs were here" on the guy's head! Stay back. Don't attack unless you see the beard move to attack.»

  «0h. Yeah.»

  «This is not an attack,» Ax said. «Your father and the man with the facial fur are making mouth-sounds. If this were a Yeerk attack they would not be making rnouth-sounds together.»

  «Drop the rug,» I instructed Tobias.

  He did. The toupee hit the concrete and the man snatched it up and slapped it back on his head. I dropped out before he did and, with Tobias's help, headed in the direction of my dad.

  "The bird's gone, the roach is gone, you're okay," my father said soothingly.

  "Forget the stupid bug! Forget the stupid, stupid bird!" the man yelled.

  He was clearly upset. A hawk had seemingly attempted to grab a cockroach off his head and ended up flying off with his toupee. That's the kind of thing that will put you in a bad mood.

  64 "Is that your car?" the bald man demanded.

  "Huh?"

  "I said, IS THAT YOUR CAR?!" the man roared.

  Like I said, upset.

  "Yes," my father said, sounding puzzled. "Why?"

  "Because it's parked in my spot! MY spot! Mine! I've been waiting to see who keeps taking my spot!"

  "How can this be your spot?" my father asked. "There aren't any spots marked 'reserved' here."

  "I've been parking in this spot for two years and four months! It's my spot! I don't care how many birds or... or my toupee ... or bugs . . . it's mine!"

  «l do not believe this man is a Controller^ Ax said.

  «What was your first clue, Ax-man?» Tobias said.

  «My first clue is the fact that this human is not -»

  «lt was a rhetorical question,» Tobias said.

  «Ah.»

  No attack. An argument over a parking space. Funny, really.

  Except that I was still left fighting the losing, defensive battle.

  65 Worse, I had frozen. Tobias and Ax had asked for orders and I had frozen. Because I had frozen they'd made the wrong move.

  My fault, not theirs. I was in charge, they'd asked me what to do.

  I'd hesitated. I'd had no answer. No harm, this time. But if the attack had been real?

  I was tired. Ax and Tobias were tired. We were measurably diminished, and the enemy had lost nothing.

  The attack was still to come.

  f-

  66 J. cut Tobias and Ax loose. Told them to get some rest. Tobias objected. He said he'd get the others, they'd mount a surveillance on my house.

  I blew him off. Told him to let everyone rest.

  Why? I don't know. Maybe I wanted to handle it myself. That way there would be no orders to give. And no second-guessing.

  My dad pulled into the garage and I scampered away. I demorphed behind the garage and raced up to my room.

  I beat my dad inside. See, I knew his routine. When he comes home he walks down to the curb to check the mail and stands there going through it muttering, "Junk . . . junk . . . okay, magazine . . . junk."

  67 I was in my bed in seconds. Covers up to my chin. Playing sick.

  "Jake?"

  My door opened. Tom stuck his head into the room.

  "What?" I croaked, having a heart failure. I hadn't realized he was home. Had he been home while I'd been demorphing? "When did you get home?"

  "What are you doing? Faking sick?"

  The Yeerk in his head played the role. Said the words Tom would have said.

  I played my role, too. "Yeah. Wanted to stay home and watch Jerry Springer."

  "Uh-huh."

  "I'm feeling better now, though. I think I'll get up."

  He gave me a disgusted look and left. I climbed out of bed and got dressed.

  Dinner was chicken soup for me. To "soothe" my upset stomach. My father and brother wolfed down Chinese food.

  "What time are we leaving tomorrow?" I asked.

  "About nine, so you boys pack tonight and don't forget your suits," my father said, missing Tom's sudden, black scowl. "I talked to your mom. The funeral's on Monday and we'll be leaving for home Tuesday morning."

  68 Tom shoved back his chair. "I'm done," he said, rising and stalking off.

  My dad studiously ignored him. "Well, I'm gonna go out and water the lawn one last time before we leave."

  "I'll load the dishwasher," I offered, rising.

  I rinsed the plates, watching through the window as my father dragged the hose from the backyard to the front.

  The house was so quiet. The air so still.

  Tom had disappeared into his room.

  I pressed my face to the window, leaving a nose smear, and searched the sky until I spotted Tobias gliding high above.

  Keeping watch, though I hadn't asked him to.

  He looked so free out there.

  So calm and confident.

  I straightened. Looked around.

  And made my decision.

  Five minutes, I thought, hurrying up to my room and locking the door behind me. I'll do a five-minute, aerial surveillance. Just enough flying to get hold of myself again. Reassure myself. I'm no good to anybody if I can't think straight.

  I stripped down to my bike shorts, opened the window, and concentrated on my peregrine falcon morph.

  A lacy pattern rose and spread across my skin, softening into feathers. My fingers melted

  69 f-

  together to form wing tips as my guts gurgled, slithered, and shifted.

  My skull ground and shrunk. My vision sharpened. I zoomed downward, falling, shrinking, wobbling on suddenly skinny, stick legs.

  The breeze drifted in the window.

  I flapped my wings and hopped up to the sill. Weird. After all this time the idea of jumping out of the second-floor window still bothered me. I was still human, still scared of heights, still not sure my wings would work. I wondered if Tobias ever felt that way.

  I spread my wings and took off, swooping down across the backyard, taking care to stay away from Tom's bedroom window.

  I caught a slight headwind, just enough to fill my wings, and began to work for altitude.

  «ls that you, Jake?» Tobias called cautiously.

  «Yeah, I figured I'd join you for a couple of minutes,» I said, leveling off and drifting along on an air current. My falcon eyes could see everything, including a mouse scurrying along the neighbor's fence.

  And my dad watering the lawn.

  «How's it going?» I asked Tobias.

  «l'm getting very little lift in this air,» he complained.

  I smiled to myself. A typical Tobias answer.

  «How's it going with you?» he asked.

  70 «Tense,» I admitted. «lt's very tense down there. My dad, Tom, armed camps, man. And me in the middle.»

  Tobias didn't say anything. I looked at him. He was higher than me, maybe two hundred yards off.

  «Tobias?»

  No answer.

  «Tobias! What's -»

  «Chapman! It is him. I couldn't be sure in this light. Six blocks from your house. Him driving, some other guy in the passenger seat.»

  I followed the direction of his g
aze. A dark car, large, four-door. I focused my gaze. Was the passenger holding something?

  «l don't like the feel of this,» I said.

  «No,» Tobias agreed.

  «My dad -»

  «Gun!» Tobias yelled. «The passenger. He's got a gun!»

  71 L was in a stoop before Tobias had finished the sentence.

  They were going to pull a drive-by. It was insane. A shooting in broad daylight? Just how important was Tom to the Yeerks? This was reckless!

  I was falling ... no, not falling. I was a rocket on a collision course with Earth. Aimed like a cruise missile for my own house.

  The car turned one street closer to mine.

  I flared my wings to brake. The hurricane of wind nearly broke them. I strained every muscle, spread every feather. I landed, skidding on the back side of the roof.

  No time to demorph inside.

  72 I'd just have to take my chances out here, tucked into the shadowy corner. I began to de-morph.

  «Jake, what are you doing?» Tobias cried.

  I could have answered. I didn't. Tobias knew what I was doing.

  «This is stupid, Jake, but I'll cover your butt anyway,» Tobias said. «Don't see anyone watching you. Possible line of sight to the house behind and to the left. There's a little girl near her window.»

  My feathers melted. My arms fattened. My beak softened like it was melting. I had to scramble to hold on with talons that were becoming stubby human toes.

  «Here comes Chapman,» Tobias reported grimly.

  NO!

  Demorph! Demorph! Demorph!

  Toes. . . hands . . .face. . .

  "Aaahhh!" I yelled in surprise.

  Suddenly, I was sliding down the steep roof toward the edge.

  «Jake! Your brother's right there in the kitchen on the phone!» Tobias shouted. «lf you come down on that side, he's gonna see you!»

  My fingers scrabbled across the rough shingles for a handhold but it was no use. My fingernails were practically liquid.

  73 I was falling.

  Over the edge!

  Desperate, I grabbed the sharp, metal gutter.

  Dangled. Arms stretched. I tried to haul my legs up, out of view.

  «Tom hasn't seen you yet,» Tobias said. «He's got his back to the window. But Chapman is twenty seconds away. It's now or never.»

  Tom's voice drifted out through the window.

  "Perfect timing," he said coldly. "He's out front alone. Go for it."

  I dropped, hit the grass with a dull thud, and gritted my teeth to stay quiet. I crawled past the window, then shot to my feet and tore around the house.