Applegate, K A - Animorphs 32 - The Separation Read online

  Buyers Research Institute. The people who tell you which vacuum cleaner to buy and which coffee tastes best.

  You are one sad, tired, burned-out specimen of humanity if you need someone to tell you which vacuum to buy. I mean, buy the vacuum, if it doesn't work go back and get the salesman and kick his butt! Where's the big mystery there?

  That's how I'd do it, anyway.

  It was three stories high. Rectangular. One of those big, modern, nothing buildings you see in industrial parks or by the side of the highway.

  Lights were on in only a small handful of the

  57 offices, and no one was in those. I could see that clearly. The building looked empty. And with my predator's eyes I realized something else: There was a missing floor.

  They supposedly did all kinds of testing and stuff, but all I was seeing were offices with cluttered desks and computer monitors endlessly playing their Mystify Your Mind screen savers.

  Below ground. That must be where the testing was done. Yeah, now that I looked I could see a large truck bay cut deep enough to open into a sublevel.

  I floated almost effortlessly past the top floor of windows. Jake and the others must already be inside. Fine. When the stuff hit the fan I'd be -

  BBBBBRRRRRRRRIIIINNNNNGGGGG!

  The sound was magnified to my sensitive owl ears. An alarm!

  BBBBBRRRRRRRRIIIINNNNNGGGGG!

  It was like the class bell times ten. Definite alarm!

  My friends needed help. Yeerks needed killing.

  «Cool!»

  But how to get into the building? No time for slow infiltration. I needed something direct.

  The truck bay.

  I whipped my wings and swung around above

  58 the truck bay. It was a long, fairly steep ramp that went from the rear parking area of the building straight down to a loading dock.

  The loading dock was a concrete pier protected by two big rubber buffers. The opening itself was a retractable steel door.

  The door was too much even for my grizzly morph. No other way in, not that I could see.

  Then, I spotted the truck. It was a car carrier. You know, one of those trucks where they precariously pile five or six new cars on the ramped trailer?

  Must be new car models coming to be tested, I thought.

  The truck was parked at the edge of the parking lot. There was a faint light from inside the cab. The driver was probably inside catching a nap. Maybe he showed up too late for his scheduled drop-off; I didn't know, didn't care. I just cared that the key was probably in that truck.

  BBBBBRRRRRRRRIIIINNNNNGGGGG!

  The ringing wasn't stopping! I was probably missing half the slaughter!

  I landed behind the truck. I demorphed as fast as I could, then morphed again.

  A few seconds later the driver was awakened when I removed the door of his truck.

  "Aaaaahhhhh! Aaaahhhhh!" he said.

  He was scared, good and scared, and it made

  59 me laugh. So I let him live. I reached in with massive grizzly paws and yanked him out, kicking and screaming and wetting himself.

  Then, I climbed into the cab.

  "Hey! Hey! You can't steal my rig!" he yelled.

  I stomped on the clutch. I rammed the gearshift forward. I didn't exactly know how to drive a truck, but to my surprise it lurched forward when I let go of the clutch.

  WHAM!

  I hit some stupid Volkswagen. It didn't slow me down too much.

  The truck steered badly. And holding the wheel wasn't easy with my ham-sized paws. But the big rig turned and slowly, slowly gained speed.

  Turned . . . turned . . . and now, straightened out as I aimed the tons of steel down the ramp!

  «Ah HAAAAHHHHH!» I screamed in pure joy as the truck plunged forward and down.

  Faster . . . faster . . .

  WHAAAAMMMMM!

  The truck stopped very suddenly against the concrete pier.

  TWANNNG!

  The safety chain holding the foremost car in place snapped.

  The car flew off the front end of the truck, right over the cab, into the steel door, through

  60 the steel door, wrapping the hinged metal around itself and veering off to one side.

  A second car flew right behind it but no longer found a door in its way.

  The steering wheel had sledgehammered my chest on impact. My weight shattered the wheel and without remembering how, exactly, I found myself head and shoulders through the windshield.

  I was winded, bruised, and cut. But it takes more than a little truck accident to kill a grizzly bear.

  The door of the truck bay was open.

  I snatched up the key chain, worked my way through the rest of the windshield, and climbed clumsily over the big Peterbilt engine.

  I landed hard on a concrete floor. But I was inside! I was a grizzly bear!

  And I had the second car that had flown off the end of the truck. A Mercedes convertible.

  Silver metallic.

  Very cool.

  61

  Daddy?"

  "Hi, honey!"

  I clutched the phone with one hand and Bobo Bear with the other.

  "Daddy?"

  "Of course, who else would it be? Is something the matter?"

  "Oh, Daddy, everything is the matter!"

  "That sounds serious."

  "It is, it is!"

  "Are you okay?"

  "Can you tell?" My dad's a TV reporter. He has very good instincts.

  "Tell what?"

  62 "Rachel, I'm asking if you're okay. You don't sound like yourself."

  "I don't? But I am. Me, I mean. I am me. Maybe ... I mean maybe I'm a little different or, like, you know, not a hundred percent the same."

  "Is it drugs? Sweetheart, you know you can tell me. Are you on drugs?"

  "Urn, I took two Motrin for my headache . . . Oh! You mean like drug drugs? No, of course not!"

  He sounded relieved. "Thank God! That's all I need. I mean, all you need. You know what I mean. Just did a three-part story on drug use among young teens, I mean, very in-depth with some great interviews and some killer footage. Great stuff! And they make me chop it down to a minute thirty. A minute thirty!"

  "Urn, Daddy? This is, like, about me, okay?"

  "Of course, of course. How are you?"

  I felt my lip quiver. "Not very good."

  "Have you talked to your mom? She's pretty good with this kind of stuff."

  "What kind of stuff?"

  "Oh ... well ... I guess, boy stuff? Does it involve boys?"

  "Yes, yes, it does! How did you guess? Actually three boys. I mean, four if you count this one guy who is like, you know, okay, not exactly a boy, if you know what I mean."

  63 "A man!" he shrieked in my ear. "A man? You're going out with a man? Are you seeing a college kid?"

  "No, Daddy. Dun! That's not what I meant, it's just that he's . . . foreign."

  "An alien?"

  I almost choked Bobo Bear. I lowered my voice to a whisper. "How did you know?"

  "Well, honey, it's not that big a deal. I mean, my cleaning lady is an alien and she does a great job."

  I had to think about that for a minute.

  "She's from Ukraine," he said.

  "Oh! That kind of alien!"

  "Yeah. Ukraine. It used to be part of the old Soviet Union."

  I nodded. "We learned about that in school. The old Soviet Union. Although I don't know why anyone would name their country 'the Old' anything. I mean, did it used to be the new Soviet Union and then, after a long time they figured, 'Well, we can't exactly call it "new" anymore, can we?'"

  "Uh-huh. Look, Rachel? You said something was bothering you. A boy?"

  "Who?"

  "I don't know who." He sounded annoyed.

  "I just can't keep it all bottled up inside anymore!"

  64 "Keep what bottled up inside?"

  "Shh! I can't say over the phone. They could be listening and Jake would go totally, totall
y nuts!"

  "Jake? You're going out with Jake? As in Jake, your cousin?"

  I laughed. "Silly! You always make me feel better."

  "Ooookay."

  "Come soon, okay? Can you come tomorrow? I have to talk to you. It's about. . . about what you said before."

  "Drugs?"

  "No, your..." I searched for a way to tell him without committing the unpardonable sin of blurting it over the phone. "Your cleaning lady," I said, trying to say it in a way so he'd know it wasn't really, exactly about his cleaning lady. "It's about, you know. What you said about her."

  "That she's from Ukraine?"

  He got it! The code was working. "Exactly. It's about Ukraine."

  Long pause. "I'll be there tomorrow."

  He hung up. I hung up. I felt better. Tomorrow 1 would tell him everything. The Yeerks, the Ani-morphs, the whole thing about Tobias being a hawk and also me kind of liking him. And about there being two of me.

  He would know what to do.

  65 I heard the phone ring but by then I was already heading downstairs. My mom picked it up. I could hear her voice, sounding icy.

  "No, she is not on drugs. I would know! Unlike certain people, I see her every day."

  66

  JL couldn't find the right key to start the silver Mercedes. But I made a cool discovery: If you jab about six inches of bear claw into the key slot, it'll work!

  I flattened the driver's seat. I jammed one big foot down on the accelerator, and I was off!

  Vrrrrooom!

  It was just what I thought: The basement level was one big, huge testing facility. It was like a warehouse, kind of. A cement floor with broad aisles, with clusters of machinery to the left and the right. The basement level extended much farther in every direction than the upper levels had.

  67 Some of the tests seemed to be automated. Machines were busily carrying them out without human supervision. Or at least there were no humans around that I could see.

  Then again, your average cowardly human would tend to run away if he saw a grizzly bear driving a convertible toward him. I wouldn't run away, of course, but then I'm not exactly average.

  I roared along past machines that were automatically twisting the knobs of stereos; past a table that held twenty or thirty hair dryers in place as they blew; past twin lines of La-Z-Boys being jerked out and back, out and back, like they were inhabited by a brigade of invisible, hyperactive fathers. One of the recliners was already broken. A steel shank kept jerking out through the footstool with each movement.

  The first alarm had stopped now. A second, different alarm had taken over.

  Brr-REEEET! Brr-REEEET! Brr-REEEET!

  I could hear it quite well over the gentle hum of the Mercedes engine.

  To my left I spotted a test involving blue jeans. About two dozen pairs were mounted on leg-shaped steel prongs that appeared to be stretching them. Two dozen pairs, all of them feet upward.

  I slammed on the brakes and the car squealed down the slick cement.

  68 I peered, looking for my favorite brand. But my grizzly bear eyes were too weak to make out labels.

  I took off again and suddenly a troop of Hork-Bajir trotted right across my path. There were eight. Obviously in a hurry. No doubt in pursuit of my friends.

  I kept my foot on the accelerator. The last Hork-Bajir spotted me bearing down on him. He yelled something and leaped aside.

  Hah! Not likely!

  I twisted the wheel. I was on two wheels! I was so far over on one side I could have reached out and raked my nails along the floor!

  The last Hork-Bajir heard my wheels screeching. He looked back over his shoulder.

  WHAM!

  Flying Hork-Bajir! I caught him in the tail and legs. He went flying. Up, a cartwheel, over the top of me as I raced beneath. I saw him hit the ground in my rearview mirror.

  Cool?

  Way cool!

  WHAM!

  Another Hork-Bajir. This one sprawled into a small mountain of bags of Doritos, Fritos, and Tostitos.

  Now the others had realized I was on their tail. They scattered. Left and right. Left, through

  69 an automated test of coffee machines. Right, through a quiet, turned-off test of canned cheese.

  The bright glitter of the silverware drew me. I yanked the wheel, spun completely around, yelling with glee as I did, straightened out, fish-tailed, and roared after one big Hork-Bajir.

  WHAM! Bu-Bump!

  I caught him a glancing blow. He fell and managed to get his arm under my back wheels as I rolled on.

  It was the most fun I've ever had. I mean, if there's a heaven it must be a lot like this.

  Ahead, a new target! No, wait, a knot of targets, all with their backs to me.

  Hork-Bajir! Human-Controllers! And three big, ugly Taxxons, all surging into one corner.

  I hit the brakes. The car fishtailed to a stop.

  I heard the bellowed, harsh language of the Hork-Bajir. I heard the cries of humans. I heard the slithery speech of the Taxxons. And above it all, the roar that made grown men wet themselves: the roar of the tiger.

  I had found Jake and the others.

  I climbed out of the car. The upholstery was seriously damaged. Maybe the BRI should test that.

  I surveyed the scene, not wanting to miss a single, glorious detail.

  70 Perhaps as many as fifteen Hork-Bajir. Four humans. Three Taxxons. Versus a tiger, a gorilla, a wolf, a young Andalite warrior, and a Hork-Bajir that had to be Tobias.

  I was fiercely glad for Tobias. He'd managed to get into a seriously dangerous morph in time for battle.

  It was a scene of perfect beauty. Blood slicked the concrete. Taxxon guts lay in steaming piles. There were bellows and cries of pain.

  Battle! Desperate and deadly!

  I almost cried at the sheer loveliness of it.

  Then I plowed in.

  71

  J. woke up. Someone had kicked me in the ribs. I didn't have to guess who it was.

  She snapped on the light and glared down at me.

  She reached down, yanked Bobo Bear out of my arms, and ripped his arms out, sending stuffing flying everywhere.

  "Leave Bobo Bear alone!" I cried.

  She knelt down over me, me nacing. "Don't make me mad. I'm already as mad as I need to be. If you make me any madder I won't be responsible for what happens next. Get me?"

  I nodded.

  72 She twisted away and threw herself on her back on the bed.

  "S-s-s-so, did you have fun?" I asked.

  "Fun?!" she shrieked. "FUN?! Did I have FUN?!"

  "Hey, get off the phone, Rachel, and stop yelling. Sara's asleep!"

  This was from my mom, outside in the hallway.

  "Okay, Mom!" I said.

  "Your cousin," Mean Rachel whispered, her face twisted with rage.

  "Jake?"

  "Jake! I should have killed him. What he said to me! To ME!"

  "What? What happened?"

  "I saved their sorry butts. Oh, man, you would not believe this battle! This one Hork-Bajir caught me with his blade and chopped my left arm off, right? I mean, I'm in grizzly morph, we're totally outnumbered, and this Hork-Bajir gets behind me and SLASH! This sudden pain! Then, thud, and I realize my arm is on the ground. Hah HAH! On the ground. So you know what I do? I reach down, pick it up, and use it like a club to beat him over the head."

  I felt like I was going to throw up. "That's awful!"

  She looked puzzled. "What's awful?"

  73 "Never mind."

  "So we kick butt, right? I mean, we rock and rolled! And we escape! And then Jake goes off on me. On ME! Jake! On ME!"

  "Didn't he, you know, didn't he think it was cool when you hit the Hork-Bajir with your arm?"

  "He goes off on me with 'You screwed up the plan. You come barreling in here looking for trouble while we're trying to sneak around and find the stupid Anti-Morphing Ray.'"

  "Uh-huh."

  "I'm trying to be nice. I'm like '
You stupid moron, you were getting your weak little butts kicked. I heard the alarm go off and I saved you. I am a hero.' But he's, like, 'Rachel, we set off the fire alarm to draw the Hork-Bajir away. You show up busting in doors and they realize they're under attack.'"

  "Well, I guess I can kind of see his . . ."

  Her look stopped me dead.

  "I mean, Jake is such a moron!"

  "Exactly! We kicked Yeerk butt! That's what we do. Forget the stupid Anti-Morphing Ray, who cares? We kicked Yeerk butt!" She shook her head. "Jake has to go."

  "Well, I-" I started to say.

  "Shut up, I'm tired."

  She snapped the light off and within seconds she was breathing deeply.

  74 I lay there on the floor, in the dark, holding my armless Bobo Bear.

  What was I going to do? How was I going to live with her?

  Not that it mattered what I thought, or what I wanted. I mean, I was, like, helpless. She was the one who . . .

  I stopped breathing.

  Yeah. Yeah. She was the one who would decide what was done.

  So, what if she decided she didn't like sharing her life with me?

  Would she . . .

  Oh my God, I realized. Yes. She would.

  75

  J. went to school. It was comforting, you know? It was familiar. It was safe.

  I don't know where Mean Rachel spent the day. I was just glad she wasn't in school. I mean, there are some teachers I don't like, but that doesn't mean I want Mean Rachel throwing them out of the second-floor windows.

  Cassie came up to me after English.

  "Meeting," she said.

  "What?"

  "Meeting. After school. You know."

  Yes, I did know. The Barn. The Animorphs. Tobias.

  Her.

  76 "Or we could go shopping," Cassie said with a bland smile.

  I'm sure my face lit up. But then I realized: Cassie hated shopping. And meetings weren't exactly optional.

  She was testing me.

  "No, we'd better go to the meeting. Right?" I asked anxiously. "I mean, that's what we should do, isn't it?"

  "Why?" Cassie asked.

  I shrugged. "Everyone will be expecting us. I mean, we have to, right?"

  "Yeah. You're right. See you."

  Couldn't I just, like, quit? That was the thing to do. That way Mean Rachel wouldn't be all, like, mad?

  Besides, I had to meet my dad. He was flying in for just an hour on his way to an assignment in Argentina, and I had to take the bus out to the airport.