((God-mod near the end was with Jamilan's permission.))
It took Johnny about two minutes to locate a phone. Another thirty seconds were wasted as the blonde-haired boy scouted for a phone book. He was lucky, the phonebook was all in English, probably a special print for tourists. So it only took about ten more seconds to locate the number for the Congo-cops.
When he dialed the magic number, a voice on the other end began speaking in a bizarre language. After waiting for the voice to end, Johnny tapped out a funky beat on a nearby table. When a break came, Johnny drew his words out, "Hello? Is there anyone there that speaks English? Eng-lish?"
The voice on the other end said crisply, "Yes, someone here speaks Eng-lish. How may I help you?" Johnny stared at the phone for a second before speaking. Talk about sarcasm! There was probably some Swahili guy with a Bluetooth device on the other side talking to him while making a list of people he was going to excecute or something. Who knew?
Johnny finished explaining the whole situation, or at least most of it. He managed to leave out how he had gotten there, how many people he was with, and how he'd managed to take out a whole squad of poachers. Yet he did not work for a government agency. at least, one of the commonly known government agencies. He hung up as the guy kept prying for more information and he jogged back through the way he'd come.
He left the garage door open and just began morphing, mouth enlarging and feather's popping out all over his skin. Judging by the past thought-speak chatter and the rapidly diminishing sound of a chopper, Johnny was guessing that his friends were already on their way home.
Charlotte stepped out of the shower. The warm, massaging water had done wonders for her attitude. Now, she had a small smile on her face and her head was okay, a wonder itself since it had gone through a horrible agony a quarter of a hour ago. In reality, it hadn't been a long shower, but oh it was so worth the wait after another long day of putting up with LeMaine and casually flirting with Samson.
As she dried off and put a towel around her long black hair, she heard a loud crash below her. She shrugged it off. It was probably just one of the clumsy guides they'd hired dropping a box of some sort. Charlotte's attitude towards everything about the business that didn't directly affect her was indifference. Her outburst about the alien's wailing was because it was like scraping nails on a chalkboard...INSIDE her head!
More thuds began sounding below her and the cries of all the captured animals began swelling up around the bangs and crashes.
The guides are probably in a fight. Well, as long as they don't anger the animals too much more, it shouldn't hurt. The only reason Charlotte thought that much about it was that the animals were starting to irritate her. Not even the gunshots startled her. Samson was always trying out new pistols and rifles, constantly searching to find a more efficient weapon. And he was probably using a gun to settle the fight.
Casually dressed as she was, Charlotte retired to her bedroom. She stretched out on her bed, where she picked up in a book. That was where she stayed for minutes upon minutes.
Then she suddenly snapped out of the book. She couldn't concentrate on what was going on. She looked around her room, straining her senses to figure it out. Then she got it. The house was way too quiet. She didn't hear water running in the bathroom. She didn't hear any noises coming from the three other bedrooms on the upper floor. With her curiosity piqued, Charlotte folded the tip of a page down on her book and got up to investigate, still clad in only her robe and towel.
When she got downstairs, she was about to yell out when she heard a low voice. Her brow furrowed as she walked through the living room. There, on the armchair was an open newspaper and a half-empty mug of coffee sat beside it on a table. That was strange, LeMaine never forgot to finish his coffee.
As Charlotte continued through the house in silence, the voice got louder as she approached. When she was right there at the kitchen door, she stealthily grabbed her rifle that was propped up beside the frame. Then the voice on the other side of the door stopped.
She froze, wondering if the voice had heard her approach. She strained her ears, but didn't hear anything else. That made up her mind. She kicked the door open and charged intot he kitchen, yelling a senseless tirade of noise. Nothing was in the kitchen.
Then she saw the open phonebook beside the phone. And the trail of open door leading to the back rooms.
Fearing the worst, Charlotte ran through the doors. When she got into the back room, she gasped. Crates were scattered and shattered everywhere. All the animals were gone, excepot for the sleeping leopard. All of the cage locks had been broken off. By her feet were two of the guides. Another was slumped against a wall. Samson and LeMaine were lying on each other and under a crate.
The room was a wreck.
Then the world came rushing back to Charlotte. She ran out of the house and was just in time to see a golden eagle take flight, it's ARMS rapidly turning to wings. It's distinctively
human arms! In a flash, Charlotte understood. Animorphs! Everyone in the animal hunting or protection programs had heard of them! She ran back intot he house.
Within ten minutes, a jeep pulled away from the house, packed to the brim with bags of cash and personal objects and neccesities. The local police arrived twenty minutes later, to survey the scene, but by then it was too late.
The woman known as Charlotte had already left.
FINISHED!