Sarah’s disappearance weigh on his face.
I find myself oddly concerned about him.
“You should get off the road and get some sleep,” I say. “You look like shit.”
I don’t hang around to converse. Instead, I check into a hotel on the Colorado side of the border and wait for him to report back. Part of me feels like I should have given him more warning, but I tell myself again that he’ll be fine. This isn’t like Zophie, when I left her alone, thinking that Janus could still be alive. Mark is well aware of the dangers he’s facing.
The sun is rising when I finally get a message from him. I’d just about given up hope that he was still a free man.
Mark: Dulce’s a bust. FBI is abandoning it. Sarah’s gone. I think John and others got her out.
Me: You got in and out and no one saw you? I’m impressed.
Mark: Nah. Ran in2 agent Walker from Paradise. She let me go. I think she’s turned against the Mogs.
If the Dulce base is being abandoned, now is the time for me to claim my ship. Assuming they didn’t move it while the video loop was in place. The thought fills me with warmth, my blood pumping through my veins. Plus, if the FBI agents at the base have turned on the Mogs, it means at least some of the humans are beginning to see that working alongside those monsters isa death sentence for the human race. They’re not just blindly following them.
Maybe there’s hope for this species after all, I think. And in doing so, I realize, perhaps for the first time, what respect I have for Mark. Someone who has been fighting for his friends and his planet this whole time. Trying to save his people from whatever horrible endgame the Mogs are trying to enact.
And here I’ve been, withholding information from him. Using him for my own means. As a pawn.
When it comes down to it, I’m no better than one of the Elders.
Maybe I can make up for that. I wonder what he’s going to do now that Sarah’s not where he thought she would be.
Me: Where are you going now?
Mark: No damn clue. Can’t go home. Bad FBI are still looking for me.
Perhaps it’s the rush of adrenaline pumping through me or that lingering pang of guilt for not being completely honest with him—for whatever reason, I feel like I owe it to Mark to help him. I can guide Mark from afar.
I message him back, instructing him to drive towardAlabama. I know just the place he can hide out for a while and continue his work: Yellowhammer Ranch. Only, it’s been a while since I’ve been on the property, so I tell him to take his time—that I’ll have a space set up for him just as soon as I get a few personal things in order. The last thing I need is Mark James wandering onto the grounds of Yellowhammer only to get blown up by a defensive trap I forgot to defuse.
CHAPTER NINE
I HEAD FOR DULCE. FOR MY SHIP .
I pass half a dozen black SUVs all speeding through the desert about five miles away from the perimeter of Dulce Base. I consider this fortuitous timing—if these are the FBI agents Mark mentioned, then they have indeed abandoned the place.
Still, I have my reservations about this operation. It’s a bright morning, for one thing, meaning I can’t rely on the cover of night, and the memory of what happened the last time I tried to infiltrate this base is fresh in my mind. But I won’t get another opportunity like this. Who knows how long it will be before the Mogs or the rest of the FBI realize that no one at this base is responding?
Besides, this time I’ve come prepared.
I pause at a section of the fence surrounding the base that’s been destroyed and take out some of thegear from my backpack—thermal-imagine binoculars that can sense heat signatures through six inches of steel. Nothing pops up on them. At least nothing that reads as a human or Mog. There are a few fires and lights I can make out, but nothing that suggests anyone is patrolling the base.
Regardless, I proceed with caution and park my bike near a pit that’s been
I find myself oddly concerned about him.
“You should get off the road and get some sleep,” I say. “You look like shit.”
I don’t hang around to converse. Instead, I check into a hotel on the Colorado side of the border and wait for him to report back. Part of me feels like I should have given him more warning, but I tell myself again that he’ll be fine. This isn’t like Zophie, when I left her alone, thinking that Janus could still be alive. Mark is well aware of the dangers he’s facing.
The sun is rising when I finally get a message from him. I’d just about given up hope that he was still a free man.
Mark: Dulce’s a bust. FBI is abandoning it. Sarah’s gone. I think John and others got her out.
Me: You got in and out and no one saw you? I’m impressed.
Mark: Nah. Ran in2 agent Walker from Paradise. She let me go. I think she’s turned against the Mogs.
If the Dulce base is being abandoned, now is the time for me to claim my ship. Assuming they didn’t move it while the video loop was in place. The thought fills me with warmth, my blood pumping through my veins. Plus, if the FBI agents at the base have turned on the Mogs, it means at least some of the humans are beginning to see that working alongside those monsters isa death sentence for the human race. They’re not just blindly following them.
Maybe there’s hope for this species after all, I think. And in doing so, I realize, perhaps for the first time, what respect I have for Mark. Someone who has been fighting for his friends and his planet this whole time. Trying to save his people from whatever horrible endgame the Mogs are trying to enact.
And here I’ve been, withholding information from him. Using him for my own means. As a pawn.
When it comes down to it, I’m no better than one of the Elders.
Maybe I can make up for that. I wonder what he’s going to do now that Sarah’s not where he thought she would be.
Me: Where are you going now?
Mark: No damn clue. Can’t go home. Bad FBI are still looking for me.
Perhaps it’s the rush of adrenaline pumping through me or that lingering pang of guilt for not being completely honest with him—for whatever reason, I feel like I owe it to Mark to help him. I can guide Mark from afar.
I message him back, instructing him to drive towardAlabama. I know just the place he can hide out for a while and continue his work: Yellowhammer Ranch. Only, it’s been a while since I’ve been on the property, so I tell him to take his time—that I’ll have a space set up for him just as soon as I get a few personal things in order. The last thing I need is Mark James wandering onto the grounds of Yellowhammer only to get blown up by a defensive trap I forgot to defuse.
CHAPTER NINE
I HEAD FOR DULCE. FOR MY SHIP .
I pass half a dozen black SUVs all speeding through the desert about five miles away from the perimeter of Dulce Base. I consider this fortuitous timing—if these are the FBI agents Mark mentioned, then they have indeed abandoned the place.
Still, I have my reservations about this operation. It’s a bright morning, for one thing, meaning I can’t rely on the cover of night, and the memory of what happened the last time I tried to infiltrate this base is fresh in my mind. But I won’t get another opportunity like this. Who knows how long it will be before the Mogs or the rest of the FBI realize that no one at this base is responding?
Besides, this time I’ve come prepared.
I pause at a section of the fence surrounding the base that’s been destroyed and take out some of thegear from my backpack—thermal-imagine binoculars that can sense heat signatures through six inches of steel. Nothing pops up on them. At least nothing that reads as a human or Mog. There are a few fires and lights I can make out, but nothing that suggests anyone is patrolling the base.
Regardless, I proceed with caution and park my bike near a pit that’s been
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