My hand patted the air. No bedside table? I lifted my lids. Where was my . . .

  My heart stopped.

  I was staring into a triangular screen. A flat computer panel mounted flush in a peeling, white plaster wall across from the bed. Eerie copper letters pulsed at the top of the glowing gray screen. 5:58:16 A.M. Below the time flashed the 18

  19

  words "TO DO" and a single entry: "Report to I probed the polished steel door frame for my work."

  reflection, for the face I knew.

  This was not my bedroom. Not even close.

  And yes, there! I saw my eyes, dark as midDE-DEET! DE-DEET!

  night. My strong, broad face. My . . .

  My body stiffened to defense mode and I

  I swallowed hard.

  bolted out of bed.

  My short-cropped hair? My six-foot frame?

  The alarm stopped.

  My day-old beard?!

  My mind, forced into consciousness by the I brought a hand to my face. My fingers

  shock, hurled me orders. Get out! it warned. Get scraped across my chin. Stubble like sixty-grit out, get out, get out!

  sandpaper. I needed a shave.

  I raced to a tall black panel in the wall. A My breath got choppy. My head felt about

  door. Had to be.

  ready to explode.

  Get out!

  The Jake staring back at me was an adult!

  I tried, but there was no handle. No release Not crazy old. But out of college a few years. At lever. Nothing.

  least ten years older than the kid I'd been the I struck it.

  night before.

  "You are not prepared to leave for work!" said What was going on? Where were the others?

  a shrill computer voice.

  How did I get to this place?

  I pounded even harder. Hammered the panel My heart was beating entirely too hard.

  with a cienched fist. A fist that . . .

  I was gonna have a heart attack if I didn't I stopped suddenly as I studied my fist.

  calm down. I stumbled back to bed and sat down It was big.

  on the narrow strip no wider than a torso. A pad I mean it was rough and callused and had

  on a metal plate.

  veins that pumped across the hairy, muscular

  "Okay," I said out loud. "Okay." Use your forearm like I belonged to Gold's Gym and actubrain. Cover the possible explanations. ally used my membership.

  An Ellimist trick? Yeah, it had to be. But why It was the hand and arm of a grown man.

  hadn't he spoken?

  My heart started up again, pumping now at A Yeerk experiment, maybe? Could I have

  record speed.

  been captured?

  20

  21

  It's hard to think straight when you wake up like Tom Hanks in that movie Big. At least he woke up in his own room, in his own clothes. Sort of. I was wearing this weird, faded orange jumpsuit, the color of a sun-bleached Orioles cap. I fingered the suit, and then it hit me.

  Of course!

  I knew what was going on here. It had finally C H A P T E R 5

  happened.

  I knew it was only a matter of time, what with the pressures of leadership, the violent battle, the endless fights against a strengthening enemy. I'd finally been driven to a complete psychotic breakdown. It really was a cell. Maybe twelve by twelve. I'd gone crazy.

  But it didn't look very institutional. What it looked And this was my padded cell.

  like was the remodeling job from hell. A bizarre fusion of decaying early-century architecture and modern metallic installations.

  Two walls of bubbling plaster rose twelve feet to a carved crown molding. An old porcelain sink basin stuck out in one corner. Hardwood flooring ran underfoot and spilled over into filthy yellow linoleum about halfway across.

  Applied over all this old stuff was a second phase of construction. Brightly colored metallic retrofits sprouted from two gray, synthetic walls. I stood up and walked toward a purple, kidneyshaped pedestal. The top slid off to reveal a golden 22

  23

  cone. It was decorated — I guess — with a border opening three inches wide. A sliver of window. of luminescent tubing.

  Heavy, cool air tunneled in and caressed my Flit, flit, flit. Sheets of soft paper shot at me face. I pressed my eyes closed, then opened from a slit in the wall and floated to the floor. them, and there . . .

  Flit, flit, flit. More paper.

  Structures, hundreds of them, rose beneath Whoooosh!

  me, soared above me. Glass, steel, concrete, maA violent suction nearly pulled my pant leg sonry. All jutting toward a simmering, red-cast down the cone. The luminous tubing dimmed. sky.

  The kidney lid slid shut.

  An urban jungle.

  "Evacuation complete!" said the jarring comBut just like my cell, the city looked as though puter voice. I almost smiled. Whoever or whatit had suffered modifications at the hands of a deever held me prisoner here was powerful, but ranged contractor. Chaotic clumps of black mathey had a toilet that was out of order. chinery clung, like unwelcome growths, to the I moved to a tray colored brilliant fuchsia. It sat skyscrapers' sides. Sickly deformations of a cenbeside an electric blue cylinder. Ghastly stalks retury's architectural monuments. tracted the tubes into the wall as I walked closer. A few buildings were completely covered over Whoop. Bam.

  by this industrial applique, like a ship's hull overI stared. run with barnacles. A tree trunk strung with paraWhoop. Bam. sitic . . .

  They reappeared, steaming with crisp bacon The word left me with a very uneasy feeling. and scrambled eggs. Orange juice swirled in a Parasitic. . .

  blue beaker.

  Two fighters zoomed into my narrow field of I certainly wasn't hungry.

  vision. Their red lights blazed a streak across the I moved on to a long, narrow panel, solid but cityscape.

  translucent. Faint natural light shone through it. Oh. Crap.

  My pulse quickened. A window? Maybe I could Yeerk fighters.

  escape that way.

  They headed for a distant pack of skyscrapShleep!

  ers, an ominous elevation that studded the horiThe wall absorbed the panel and revealed an zon like giant chipped and broken teeth in the 24

  25

  mouth of some mythical hockey goalie. Two of They buzzed through the sticky, filmy cloud that the buildings looked familiar. Shimmering recswelled above the city like fallout from a colossal tangles. Twin towers.

  explosion.

  The World Trade Center!

  "Continued idleness prohibited!" The sharp New York. This must be . . . except for. . . computer voice broke through the monotonous, Yeerk fighters out in the open? That

  mind-filling hum from outside.

  meant. . . that meant they'd launched an open The fighters banked in tandem, slowed and attack. Visser Three. They'd gained enough hovered. Touched down on a platform connecting forces to forget stealth and secrets, and wage a the World Trade towers.

  totally in-your-face war!

  I let the window cover slam shut.

  DE-DEET! DE-DEET!

  There was no war being waged after all.

  The alarm sounded again.

  The war, it seemed, was over.

  "Facility air quality jeopardized!" The computer voice was more authoritative now. The window cover began to shut, closing off my sliver of city.

  Oh, no you don't! I reached up and grabbed the panel. Forced it back.

  One of those fighters wasn't Yeerk.

  Only one was a Bug fighter. Only one was a legless cockroach with two serrated spears. The other held its shredder raked high over the fuselage, pointing forward. Like an Andalite tail poised for combat.

  It was an Andalite craft. But grossly modified. Engines that should have glowed a cool blue instead burned a fiery red. I fought the window cover. I had to see!

  The two fighters rocketed through the sky. 26

  27

  The wind grew stronger. The ghostly whir and hum I'd heard through the cell window churned louder and louder, until at last it vibrated every particle of air like a thousand-piece orchestra of different-sized fans.

  The building wall at the end of the hall had been knocked out. Everyone was stepping through C H A P T E R 6

  the rough opening. And I followed — curious and terrified — out onto the crowded, open-air docking bay.

  "Step up!" An impersonal computer voice cut through the whoosh of engines and flooded my ears. I realized I was blocking traffic.

  I tripped forward toward a line of SUV-sized craft that hovered in the air at floor level, doors Tssssst.

  open, inhaling small groups of colored jumpsuits. The cell door opened and ejected me with a And every few seconds . . .

  burst of air into the dim hallway of an old apartWoooooosh!

  ment house. I heard the hiss of other panel doors One took off from the apartment building and opening and closing at the same time. Tall, fit fell away in a controlled tumble, careening toward humans dressed in brightly colored jumpsuits the streets three hundred feet below.

  swarmed into the corridor.

  I stumbled past the blinking red lights that I wanted to yell. I wanted to grab the nearest ran from nose to tail on every craft and bathed person and shake him and scream, "What is this the docking bay and passengers in a sinister, crazy place?"

  pulsing glow. Stepped into what looked like a But instinct told me to keep my mouth shut. stripped-down Bug fighter. No weaponry or com Find the answers yourself, it said. Observe. Don't bat stations. Just a pod with seats and windows. trust these strangers. Use them.

  A floating, high-tech subway car.

  I let the orange and green and yellow suits The instant I fell onto a seat, a belt shot sweep me up in their mass exodus down the hall. 28

  29

  across my chest. Another drew tight over my legs. Green Suit flashed a mischievous smile. "Mr. Before I could panic . . .

  Hotshot Scientist forget to have his coffee?" Shoo-shoo-shoo.

  He disappeared into the crowd. The doors

  The unmanned hovercraft drew power. A deep clicked closed.

  computer voice boomed, "Midtown express." That green suit. . . that green suit had called Doors clicked shut and . . .

  me by what I knew had to be a Yeerk name. Sheeeeeeooo!

  Into an aerial roll! Hanging upside down! My stomach went goofy. Gray high-rises shot past. Other hovercraft streaked past the windows.

  "Hey." A human voice cut through the hum. We banked right. Flipped a sudden 180 degrees. And leveled off, upright, soaring parallel to the street grid below.

  "Hey, Essak-Twenty-Four-Twelve-Seven-Five!" The male voice was friendly. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I flinched, but turned.

  A guy in a green suit, strapped to the seat to my left, stared at me with icy blue eyes. Green Suit was talking to me!

  My heart hammered. My head began to pound.

  "When's the launch?" he said.

  I stared blankly back at him, unable to speak as we traced a slalom course between buildings. The launch? What launch?

  Air brakes rose to a frenzied roar. The hovercraft grazed a landing dock. The computer voice boomed, "Middle management!" Everyone suited in green rose and filed out.

  30

  31

  I wasn't Yeerk. How could I be? What was going on?

  When a Yeerk slug slithers through your ear canal, when it melds and flattens into every crevice of your brain, you know it's happening. Trust me, you know. Because you can't eat or talk or call up memories unless the Yeerk lets you. C H A P T E R 7

  You're a helpless observer of an endless nightmare. A prisoner in your own head. I was no prisoner. My eyes moved freely. My legs, when they weren't strapped to a hovercraft seat, walked where I told them to walk. Why wouldn't whoever was responsible for this just talk to me?

  We shot high. Skimmed the tops of tall towUntil today, I'd been the leader. . . ers. The Chrysler Building filled the windows. No! I still was the leader of a small but powerful Streamlined and whimsical, just like in the photo resistance to the Yeerk invasion. A group of six my mom had in her office. All rounded edges and kids, five humans and an Andalite. We call ourgleaming stainless steel and . . . selves Animorphs because of our secret weapon, Wait a minute. I looked closer and saw it was the power to morph into any animal we touch. We covered in some kind of sack. A silver sheath, fight the Yeerk invaders, led by Visser Three. Those draped like a giant deflated gift balloon. Busy slimy parasitic aliens who've come to Earth to enworkers moved about on platforms jutting from slave our bodies because without host bodies, the skin at all levels.

  Yeerks aren't much more than the wriggling, helpMy mind was swimming . . . less worms you avoid on the sidewalk after it rains. Even the Chrysler Building. Transformed.

  There was no Yeerk in my brain. I was no huSwimming . . . man-Controller.

  That green suit had called me by a Yeerk

  Not Essak-Twenty-Four-whatever.

  name . . .

  No! It's . . .

  32

  33

  "Jake! My name is Jake!"

  The craft stopped again. "Medicine," the comThe words slipped out before I could stop puter voice declared.

  them. Pierced the relative silence of the cabin.

  "They have pills for that now," Yellow Suit an"What's the matter with you?" said a yellowswered. "You should visit the clinic." suit with an accent. Eight pairs of eyes fixed on He rose and shuffled out. Seven other yellow me. Eight faces I might have taken to be your avsuits filed out after him. The doors closed. We erage, ethnically diverse, cross section of New twisted away from the landing dock. Just me and York commuters.

  one other orange suit.

  Emphasis on "might have."

  A short ride.

  Because there was one crucial giveaway.

  "Research and development. End of the line." They'd reacted to me.

  The orange suit questioned me when I didn't rise. See, I'd been to New York before. A class trip.

  "Going to the clinic," I said smoothly. "Not I may not have noticed much of the cultural stuff well." I pointed at my head. She gave me a look I was supposed to have noticed, but I noticed of understanding. The doors closed behind her. one thing. You can shout Hamlet's soliloquy or I was alone.

  scream Limp Bizkit lyrics, you can blare "The

  "My name is JAKE!" I yelled. And then I Star-Spangled Banner" or stomp an American yelled it again.

  flag, and no o n e — I mean no one — will give And for a second, I thought I would lose it. you the time of day. They'll look you over, but Really lose it. Start screaming stuff like, "I don't then they'll walk right on.

  wear jumpsuits, I wear jeans! I'm not twenty-five, All I'd said was, "My name is Jake." And I'm a kid! I'm not a Controller, I'm free." these guys were on me like I'd driven a Kawasaki But I didn't. Chances were that someone,

  into their living rooms.

  somewhere, was watching. At least that's what I forced a smile. These weren't New Yorkers. my gut told me. I've learned to trust my gut. These were human-Controllers. These were Yeerks. Down, down, down. The craft fell like a para Watch your step, Jake. chute, bobbing slightly with the buffets of wind, I cleared my throat. "My host," I said. "Somedescending slowly toward street level. times I still . . . have trouble. You know, controlling I looked out over a small park. A fraction the him."

  size of Central Park. Trampling the crusty, late34

  35

  winter grass was a mass of bodies. Blue and tan As long as I was free and in control of my fur. Hooves. Stalk eyes. The bodies were assemmind, there was a chance — no — the certainty bled in orderly, disciplined rows. Maybe fifty that I could find out what was going on.

  across and a hundred lengthwise.

  And then maybe, just maybe, somehow —

  A fog horn blared and they stopped and

  even in this strange place — I could find the othturned, changing directions. ers and together we could . . .

  Captive Andalites. And they were feeding. The doors opened and I dropped to the conMy spine felt like a live lightning rod. A world crete. My heart was back to its regular rhythm. My with Andalite-Controllers is no world at all. mind calmed and focused on a single thought. In the world I know there is only one Andalite"Jake," I breathed quietly, "you didn't plan Controller. And he's a sad mistake. Any conthis one, but now it's time to deal." scious Andalite warrior would use his tail blade on himself before he'd let himself be captured. The craft buzzed just feet above the street, passing rows of blacked-out windows on rundown facades. The ship entered a large, open space. A sort of parking lot. A paved triangle filled with other hovercraft. The engines were cut. The craft docked.

  I didn't know what world this was. I didn't know what time this was. A world before or after or parallel to mine? A bizarre reality that had somehow imposed itself on the one I was used to accepting?

  My own personal nightmare?

  I didn't know. But I knew the Yeerks were strong in this place. They owned this city. They owned the people in it.

  But they didn't own me.

  36

  37

  giddy groups of camera-toting tourists. No sharply dressed natives surging like lemmings in and out of high-rises.

  The only life was the buzz of giant, electrified billboards a hundred feet overhead. You know, those big, bold ads that make Times Square famous? I scanned. Not even close to the endorseC H A P T E R 8

  ments for Coca-Cola or JVC or Calvin Klein I remembered.

  "You can go home again." The words flickered like an electrical storm above the image of a darkened planet. What looked like thick, headless cattle roamed beneath the words against a puke-green sky. Sickly, low-lying trees grew horiEver imagine a scenario where world leadzontally, like lengthy fingers of barbed wire. ers lose their minds, fire up those intercontinen"Tired of the city?" another billboard read. tal ballistic missiles and nuke the whole planet?

  "Make the Yeerk home world your home, too. Ever think what it would be like to step out of the Transports leaving noon and midnight, first of shelter, after the worst of the residue cleared, each cycle, Yeerk Empire State Building." into some kind of postapocalyptic wasteland?

  And at the bottom, in smaller print, were the Well, there I was, stepping out into the wastewords "High Council Division for the Relocation land of Times Square. The desolate ground zero of of Unfit and Insurrectionist Hosts." These words some neutron bomb. A stage set, minus the cast of were sprayed over by the graffiti tag "EF." characters. The whole place coated in menacing siI stopped in my tracks. The tagger's letters lence.