The Familiar (Animorphs, Book 41)

The Familiar (Animorphs, Book 41)

K. A. Applegate

Language: English

Pages: 53

ISBN: B001OWJAS6

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Jake is just a normal kid. Well, as normal as possible considering he can morph animals, and he's in a war against parasitic aliens. But as unbelievable as it sounds, something even stranger has happened. One morning Jake wakes up, and he's twenty-five years old.   

Okay. Maybe it's a nightmare. Or maybe Jake's just lost it for a while and misplaced a few years. And there's another problem. The world Jake-the-kid went to sleep in has changed. It's ruled by the Yeerks. Jake has to find out if the other Animorphs and Ax are still around. Still somehow fighting. Or if he's really on his own. . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

middle of the street, frozen. I ran back into the lanes. A driver opened his car door. "Punks!" He shook his fist. "Bunch of no good . . ." I grabbed Cassie's arm. Yanked her out of traffic. Dodged into the alley where Marco and Rachel had turned in, following Ax. "Cassie!" I shook her roughly. She came to. "Four of them," she said anxiously. "I may have killed four back there, maybe five." She searched my eyes, her usual calm shattered. "Jake!" she whispered. "How do I deal with this?" I

darkness and light, faces stiff with frustration and rage softened. There were no smiles, but there were expressions of hope. "Do you like it, Jake?" "It's great," I said. He smiled. "You're really good at drawing. Is that how you got here? Did you escape up the rope?" "Not you too," he said with mild frustration. "The elders are always telling me I paint allegories, whatever they are! I'm working out my aggression and fears, they say. But I'm just painting what I want to." "Okay." "Do you

falling from the closet. Worn gym shoes. Reading light. Cotton sheets. Downstairs, the smell of fresh waffles cooking. Dad. A woman talking about a doubles game. Mom. My room. My house. My . . . I leaped out of bed. The Schwarzenegger thing was history. My hand was my hand again. I brushed my chin. No sandpaper. Just smooth. I grabbed for the phone. I dialed the number. Pounded the keypads. My body ached in muscles I didn't know I had. Brrrrrrrr-ing. Come on. Pick up. Brrrrrrrr-ing.

Answer! I wanted to hear a girl's voice. Deep and young. Cheerful and wise. My heart pounded. Bright sun washed my body. I moved a hand across my chest and felt . . . My badge! I yanked it off. I looked. My fingers clutched air. I opened my fist. Nothing. Images still flashed through my head. Dead Hork-Bajir towering above me. Orff manacling my wrists. David. A mind-blowing explosion. The Howler. The strangely beautiful singing of children. The stench of those condemned to death. A

increased to an all-out lumber. Chapter 9 Steam. The subway. Go! I ran for the subway entrance and took the steps three at a time. Wham! I burst through the rusted-out gate. "Ugh!" A horrible stench. A humid rot. The foul scent of . . . Taxxons. I gasped for breath in the hot stink of the cavern. "Who are you?" "Yahh!" I almost had another heart attack. My head slammed the scissored turnstile in surprise. A guy, a human, only three feet tall but an adult, looked up at me quizzically. He

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