convincing to drag me out of bed so early.”
He starts to walk away as I stand dumbfounded in the doorway to my hotel room. I click the Unlock button on the keys in my hand, and a shiny, blue, extended-cab truck honks in the parking lot.
I run back inside to the computer.
Me: You’re kidding me with this right?
GUARD: It should get you to where you need to go.
Me: This is crazy.
GUARD: As crazy as invaders from Mogadore?
GUARD: I figured I might owe you after everything you’ve been through.
Me: What about my other truck?
GUARD: A separate towing company is picking it up in an hour and taking it to a secure location. Get anything you need out of it now.
Something clicks in my brain, even over the rush of the fact that I have a new truck .
Me: Wait. How did u kno where I am?
GUARD: I’ve been monitoring the netbook I sent you. I can track it, even when it’s powered down. Once I knew the place you were staying, I just had to nudge the front desk for your room number.
A weird feeling overtakes me—something I haven’t felt since Sarah started dating John. A particular sort of anger that can only come from realizing that I’ve been betrayed by someone I thought was looking out for me.
GUARD has been keeping tabs on me this whole time. Why? I start to worry that this whole “drive towards Alabama” thing is just a prank.
Me: What the hell man?
GUARD: Apologies. I had to make sure we were working towards the same goal. There’s a lot of double-crossing going on in the world right now.
GUARD: If it makes any difference, I trust you.
Before I can respond, he messages me an address in Alabama.
Me: Is this where you’re at?
GUARD: It’s what I’ve gotten set up for you. Home sweet home. I’ll be stopping by to see you soon.
GUARD: Now if I were you, I’d get the hell out of Louisiana.
I sign off. I’m about to pack up my netbook when I realize that I didn’t write to Sarah yesterday, so I sit back on the bed and open up my email.
Sarah—
I don’t even know what to say about the last twenty-four hours. You know what’s funny? When we were both still in Paradise, I actually thought that maybe we’d go to prom together. Not dating or anything, just together. I was worried about prom. Getting a tux and corsage and crap.
Yesterday I got shot at by a bunch of FBI agents. Sarah, I hope you’re okay. . . .
I’m not saying my old truck was a piece of crap or anything, but this new one is kind of the shit. I’m still pissed that GUARD’s been secretly tracking me this whole time, but my new wheels help make up for that.
I plug the address GUARD sent me into the truck’s GPS system and head towards Alabama. My destination is about eight hours away. I can make it to my new home base by the late afternoon. That leaves me with plenty of time to figure out what the hell has happened in the last few days. Time to digest—just me, an energy drink and eight hours of open road and news radio.
Some of the FBI is working with the Mogs. I don’t know how many agents, or what percentage. Actually, if the FBI is working with them, then there are probably other agencies on their side as well. And some of the government is in on it too. Sanderson is proof enough of that. There are some people rebelling, but again, it could be just Walker and her team or half the FBI. There are so many variables that it’s impossible for me to even begin to imagine things like odds or stats. All I know for sure is that the majority of the world knows nothing about what’s really going on. If they did . . .
That’s where my focus should be. Trying to convince people that there’s an actual threat here. That there are aliens who will think nothing of destroying our planet if it means getting what they want—whatever that is. Who might even be gearing up for a full-scale invasion or something. I need to find more proof of what’s happening. I need to turn They Walk Among Us into a movement. Maybe even an army
He starts to walk away as I stand dumbfounded in the doorway to my hotel room. I click the Unlock button on the keys in my hand, and a shiny, blue, extended-cab truck honks in the parking lot.
I run back inside to the computer.
Me: You’re kidding me with this right?
GUARD: It should get you to where you need to go.
Me: This is crazy.
GUARD: As crazy as invaders from Mogadore?
GUARD: I figured I might owe you after everything you’ve been through.
Me: What about my other truck?
GUARD: A separate towing company is picking it up in an hour and taking it to a secure location. Get anything you need out of it now.
Something clicks in my brain, even over the rush of the fact that I have a new truck .
Me: Wait. How did u kno where I am?
GUARD: I’ve been monitoring the netbook I sent you. I can track it, even when it’s powered down. Once I knew the place you were staying, I just had to nudge the front desk for your room number.
A weird feeling overtakes me—something I haven’t felt since Sarah started dating John. A particular sort of anger that can only come from realizing that I’ve been betrayed by someone I thought was looking out for me.
GUARD has been keeping tabs on me this whole time. Why? I start to worry that this whole “drive towards Alabama” thing is just a prank.
Me: What the hell man?
GUARD: Apologies. I had to make sure we were working towards the same goal. There’s a lot of double-crossing going on in the world right now.
GUARD: If it makes any difference, I trust you.
Before I can respond, he messages me an address in Alabama.
Me: Is this where you’re at?
GUARD: It’s what I’ve gotten set up for you. Home sweet home. I’ll be stopping by to see you soon.
GUARD: Now if I were you, I’d get the hell out of Louisiana.
I sign off. I’m about to pack up my netbook when I realize that I didn’t write to Sarah yesterday, so I sit back on the bed and open up my email.
Sarah—
I don’t even know what to say about the last twenty-four hours. You know what’s funny? When we were both still in Paradise, I actually thought that maybe we’d go to prom together. Not dating or anything, just together. I was worried about prom. Getting a tux and corsage and crap.
Yesterday I got shot at by a bunch of FBI agents. Sarah, I hope you’re okay. . . .
I’m not saying my old truck was a piece of crap or anything, but this new one is kind of the shit. I’m still pissed that GUARD’s been secretly tracking me this whole time, but my new wheels help make up for that.
I plug the address GUARD sent me into the truck’s GPS system and head towards Alabama. My destination is about eight hours away. I can make it to my new home base by the late afternoon. That leaves me with plenty of time to figure out what the hell has happened in the last few days. Time to digest—just me, an energy drink and eight hours of open road and news radio.
Some of the FBI is working with the Mogs. I don’t know how many agents, or what percentage. Actually, if the FBI is working with them, then there are probably other agencies on their side as well. And some of the government is in on it too. Sanderson is proof enough of that. There are some people rebelling, but again, it could be just Walker and her team or half the FBI. There are so many variables that it’s impossible for me to even begin to imagine things like odds or stats. All I know for sure is that the majority of the world knows nothing about what’s really going on. If they did . . .
That’s where my focus should be. Trying to convince people that there’s an actual threat here. That there are aliens who will think nothing of destroying our planet if it means getting what they want—whatever that is. Who might even be gearing up for a full-scale invasion or something. I need to find more proof of what’s happening. I need to turn They Walk Among Us into a movement. Maybe even an army
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