have little trails of smoke rising from their yards and roofs. Not completely destroyed like my base, but definitely messed up.
The Mogs must have narrowed our location down to one area and then systematically searched for us house by house. My brain shuts down as I start to wonder who lived in these homes. Who the Mogs slaughtered in their effort to find us.
It takes everything I have not to puke my guts out.
We ride in silence for a while, listening to BK’s panting in the backseat. I think both of us are in shock. Finally, the quiet is broken when Sarah’s phone rings. It’s John.
“Before you say anything,” she says when sheanswers, “I just want you to know that I’m okay.”
She talks to John on the phone, and I strain to try to hear what he’s saying on his end. She tells him a little bit about what happened and where we’re going. I’m glad she doesn’t give him any specifics, because I don’t know how new her burner is or how careful John and the others have been about using them.
Safe houses won’t keep us alive, apparently. Paranoia might. Though I don’t even know if I can call any of us paranoid, since our fears are totally justified.
“Tell John to kick some Mog ass,” I say.
When she’s off the phone I ask her how her alien boyfriend is.
“Fine,” she says.
“Are you worried about him?”
“Every second.”
We cross the state line into Georgia around dawn. Sarah yawns a lot but doesn’t sleep. I offer her an energy drink from my stash in the backseat, but she turns her nose up at it. I down a can in one gulp.
Not long after that my fever comes back, and I start to feel a little woozy. My arm is so sore that I can hardly use it to drive, and Sarah makes me pull off the highway and into a drugstore parking lot. She goes in with some cash and comes out a few minutes later, demanding I move to the passenger seat. I down a few Tylenolat Sarah’s insistence and despite the energy drink I’ve guzzled, I pass out.
I wake up to Sarah poking the side of my face. We’re almost there. The landscape looks eerily similar to what it did at the ranch house. GUARD definitely has a knack for finding secluded hideouts. We come to a gate among a bunch of trees, and the GPS beeps that we’ve reached our destination. I can just make out a few structures through a dense thicket of incredibly green trees. Old signage says something about the place being a peach-and-pecan orchard.
That must be the place. GUARD’s base.
“I can’t believe I’m finally going to meet the man himself,” I say as we start up an old trail that cuts through rows of thin, dead trees. I’m feeling groggy and drained, but knowing GUARD must be just a couple of yards away fills me with adrenaline.
“You sure this is where your friend is?” Sarah asks. I can hear the skepticism in her voice.
“He’s the one who inputted it into the GPS,” I say.
“It just seems so . . . ordinary.”
I can see a few flashes of silver throughout the branches—cameras. Naturally. I point them out to Sarah and tell her that I’d thought the same thing about the ranch house before I went inside. I’m guessing cameras are up all over the place, just like in Alabama. Possibly even some remote-operated weapons too. Iwouldn’t put it past GUARD.
Eventually, the trees all give way to big, open lawns around a white farmhouse and a gigantic steel building behind it that looks like it used to be some kind of small mill or factory or something.
“He’s here,” I say, more to myself than to Sarah. He has to be here. Everything is going to work out. We’re going to meet up with GUARD and figure out what we can do to bring down these Mogadorian bastards.
I jump out of the truck when we park in front of the house and am a little wobbly on my feet. My fever’s getting worse. BK stares up at me with wet-looking eyes as if he’s actually worried about me or something, but I man up and keep going. There’s a note on the front
The Mogs must have narrowed our location down to one area and then systematically searched for us house by house. My brain shuts down as I start to wonder who lived in these homes. Who the Mogs slaughtered in their effort to find us.
It takes everything I have not to puke my guts out.
We ride in silence for a while, listening to BK’s panting in the backseat. I think both of us are in shock. Finally, the quiet is broken when Sarah’s phone rings. It’s John.
“Before you say anything,” she says when sheanswers, “I just want you to know that I’m okay.”
She talks to John on the phone, and I strain to try to hear what he’s saying on his end. She tells him a little bit about what happened and where we’re going. I’m glad she doesn’t give him any specifics, because I don’t know how new her burner is or how careful John and the others have been about using them.
Safe houses won’t keep us alive, apparently. Paranoia might. Though I don’t even know if I can call any of us paranoid, since our fears are totally justified.
“Tell John to kick some Mog ass,” I say.
When she’s off the phone I ask her how her alien boyfriend is.
“Fine,” she says.
“Are you worried about him?”
“Every second.”
We cross the state line into Georgia around dawn. Sarah yawns a lot but doesn’t sleep. I offer her an energy drink from my stash in the backseat, but she turns her nose up at it. I down a can in one gulp.
Not long after that my fever comes back, and I start to feel a little woozy. My arm is so sore that I can hardly use it to drive, and Sarah makes me pull off the highway and into a drugstore parking lot. She goes in with some cash and comes out a few minutes later, demanding I move to the passenger seat. I down a few Tylenolat Sarah’s insistence and despite the energy drink I’ve guzzled, I pass out.
I wake up to Sarah poking the side of my face. We’re almost there. The landscape looks eerily similar to what it did at the ranch house. GUARD definitely has a knack for finding secluded hideouts. We come to a gate among a bunch of trees, and the GPS beeps that we’ve reached our destination. I can just make out a few structures through a dense thicket of incredibly green trees. Old signage says something about the place being a peach-and-pecan orchard.
That must be the place. GUARD’s base.
“I can’t believe I’m finally going to meet the man himself,” I say as we start up an old trail that cuts through rows of thin, dead trees. I’m feeling groggy and drained, but knowing GUARD must be just a couple of yards away fills me with adrenaline.
“You sure this is where your friend is?” Sarah asks. I can hear the skepticism in her voice.
“He’s the one who inputted it into the GPS,” I say.
“It just seems so . . . ordinary.”
I can see a few flashes of silver throughout the branches—cameras. Naturally. I point them out to Sarah and tell her that I’d thought the same thing about the ranch house before I went inside. I’m guessing cameras are up all over the place, just like in Alabama. Possibly even some remote-operated weapons too. Iwouldn’t put it past GUARD.
Eventually, the trees all give way to big, open lawns around a white farmhouse and a gigantic steel building behind it that looks like it used to be some kind of small mill or factory or something.
“He’s here,” I say, more to myself than to Sarah. He has to be here. Everything is going to work out. We’re going to meet up with GUARD and figure out what we can do to bring down these Mogadorian bastards.
I jump out of the truck when we park in front of the house and am a little wobbly on my feet. My fever’s getting worse. BK stares up at me with wet-looking eyes as if he’s actually worried about me or something, but I man up and keep going. There’s a note on the front
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