Return to Paradise
Page 22
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“Your usefulness wears thin, Purdy,” he says. “Don’t let it wear out completely.”
The giant of a man takes a step forward, then pauses. He turns his face to the back of the station, towards me, as if he’s heard something. The man’s eyes are almost completely black. They reflect the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead.
I’m looking at a Mogadorian. I’d recognize those terrifying black eyes anywhere. I don’t breathe. If I could stop my heartbeat, I would in order to keep him from discovering me.
But he turns away, barking at Purdy.
“Take me to Number Four,” he says.
He means John, I think. I’ve only got a few minutes before they realize the report is a sham.
As soon as the station door shuts, I roll out from under the desk and tiptoe across the room. Fortunately, the agent at the front desk is trying to make himself look as busy as possible, and he types loudly on the keyboard, giving me at least a tiny bit of noise cover.
Luck stays on my side: my dad’s keys still work.
Once I’m standing in Dad’s office, I allow myself a second or two to exhale and get my shit together, though the fact that I almost got caught and probably just saw a high-ranking Mog is hard to get past. The office has changed quite a bit since I was in it last, when Dad was dragging me out the night John was taken in. There are a few big boxes sitting in one corner that look like they’re full of all the files and papers that used to litter the place when it was my dad’s. The desk is tidy now—compulsively so—which is great for me because it means less to sort through.
I take a seat in the chair behind the desk and rifle through some of the papers and files. They don’t tell me anything. It’s all memos and bulletins that are the kinds of things that go up on the FBI website—public information. I’m looking for something a little more secretive than that.
Purdy’s laptop is sleek and black, like something out of a spy movie. I open it up while removing a piece of paper from my pocket that’s got all the things GUARD found written on it. Sure enough, the computer is password protected. I type in the one GUARD pegged as Purdy’s main access code and, just like that, I’m in. I’m on an FBI computer.
“God bless you, GUARD,” I whisper.
The desktop is littered with files. At the bottom of the screen are a few applications. I open up Purdy’s email, figuring if anything, it might be the easiest way of getting info on Sarah. The first password GUARD handed over is a bust, but the second one gets me in.
I type Sarah’s name into the search bar so fast that I misspell it twice. Finally, it goes through, bringing back over fifty emails containing her name. I shudder to think how many times my name might pop up in these emails, but that’s not what I’m here to find out. I sort through the newest ones first until I hit the jackpot.
Detainee Hart has been transferred to the facility at Dulce.
Dulce. I recognize the name immediately from back issues of They Walk Among Us and old posts on the blog. It’s a name that pops up all the time—a secret government base where weird stuff is supposedly always going down. A small-scale Area 51.
Sarah is being held in Dulce. New Mexico. Half a country away.
I have to go to New Mexico.
I start looking through other emails when I hear the station door slam shut, followed by a string of curses from what sounds like Purdy’s voice.
Shit. Sitting in front of me is a wealth of information—maybe enough to change the tide of the battle between the Loric and the Mogs. A battle that will decide what happens to Earth. I was hoping to have more time on the computer, then just to sneak out and let Purdy think I was never there. If I leave now, I can try to find Sarah and figure out what else is going on between the FBI and the Mogs on my own. But if I take the computer, if I steal this FBI laptop, maybe I can be the hero. With GUARD’s help, I can crack everything on the hard drive. Who knows what all we might learn. Sarah can help, once I’ve saved her. If this laptop has good intel on it, maybe I can save everyone.
And wouldn’t Sarah be impressed by that?
“Fuck it,” I say, pulling the power adapter out of the wall and taking the computer under my arm.
As Purdy berates the agent at the front desk, I unlock one of the windows to Dad’s office and slip out. In a flash, I’m in my truck, shooting through the alley. I take one last look at the station as I drive away. Purdy’s still in the front. Good. Maybe I’ll have a while before he realizes what’s happened.
Just enough time to leave Paradise.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I HAVE BREAKFAST IN A DINER A FEW HOURS outside of Paradise: a steaming pile of pancakes and two sides of bacon. I was never a big coffee drinker, but I’m on my third cup. I need to stay alert and awake. I’ve got a long drive ahead of me.
Between bites of pancakes, I spin my burner phone on the table. My actual phone is sitting somewhere on the side of the road outside of Paradise, completely wiped clean of all my personal files and run over by my truck. All the info I need is on my burner now. I’m concerned about Sarah not having my number if she tries to contact me, but I can’t risk anyone tracking me. Besides, I still have email, and I plan on emailing her every day until I see her again. I’ll have GUARD figure out how to block my IP address or bounce my emails off a satellite or something.
I’ve already cancelled the automatic blog post. It will remain in my drafts folder for now. I’m not ready to come out with all this information. Something tells me I need to save it for later, when it can be used more strategically.
The giant of a man takes a step forward, then pauses. He turns his face to the back of the station, towards me, as if he’s heard something. The man’s eyes are almost completely black. They reflect the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead.
I’m looking at a Mogadorian. I’d recognize those terrifying black eyes anywhere. I don’t breathe. If I could stop my heartbeat, I would in order to keep him from discovering me.
But he turns away, barking at Purdy.
“Take me to Number Four,” he says.
He means John, I think. I’ve only got a few minutes before they realize the report is a sham.
As soon as the station door shuts, I roll out from under the desk and tiptoe across the room. Fortunately, the agent at the front desk is trying to make himself look as busy as possible, and he types loudly on the keyboard, giving me at least a tiny bit of noise cover.
Luck stays on my side: my dad’s keys still work.
Once I’m standing in Dad’s office, I allow myself a second or two to exhale and get my shit together, though the fact that I almost got caught and probably just saw a high-ranking Mog is hard to get past. The office has changed quite a bit since I was in it last, when Dad was dragging me out the night John was taken in. There are a few big boxes sitting in one corner that look like they’re full of all the files and papers that used to litter the place when it was my dad’s. The desk is tidy now—compulsively so—which is great for me because it means less to sort through.
I take a seat in the chair behind the desk and rifle through some of the papers and files. They don’t tell me anything. It’s all memos and bulletins that are the kinds of things that go up on the FBI website—public information. I’m looking for something a little more secretive than that.
Purdy’s laptop is sleek and black, like something out of a spy movie. I open it up while removing a piece of paper from my pocket that’s got all the things GUARD found written on it. Sure enough, the computer is password protected. I type in the one GUARD pegged as Purdy’s main access code and, just like that, I’m in. I’m on an FBI computer.
“God bless you, GUARD,” I whisper.
The desktop is littered with files. At the bottom of the screen are a few applications. I open up Purdy’s email, figuring if anything, it might be the easiest way of getting info on Sarah. The first password GUARD handed over is a bust, but the second one gets me in.
I type Sarah’s name into the search bar so fast that I misspell it twice. Finally, it goes through, bringing back over fifty emails containing her name. I shudder to think how many times my name might pop up in these emails, but that’s not what I’m here to find out. I sort through the newest ones first until I hit the jackpot.
Detainee Hart has been transferred to the facility at Dulce.
Dulce. I recognize the name immediately from back issues of They Walk Among Us and old posts on the blog. It’s a name that pops up all the time—a secret government base where weird stuff is supposedly always going down. A small-scale Area 51.
Sarah is being held in Dulce. New Mexico. Half a country away.
I have to go to New Mexico.
I start looking through other emails when I hear the station door slam shut, followed by a string of curses from what sounds like Purdy’s voice.
Shit. Sitting in front of me is a wealth of information—maybe enough to change the tide of the battle between the Loric and the Mogs. A battle that will decide what happens to Earth. I was hoping to have more time on the computer, then just to sneak out and let Purdy think I was never there. If I leave now, I can try to find Sarah and figure out what else is going on between the FBI and the Mogs on my own. But if I take the computer, if I steal this FBI laptop, maybe I can be the hero. With GUARD’s help, I can crack everything on the hard drive. Who knows what all we might learn. Sarah can help, once I’ve saved her. If this laptop has good intel on it, maybe I can save everyone.
And wouldn’t Sarah be impressed by that?
“Fuck it,” I say, pulling the power adapter out of the wall and taking the computer under my arm.
As Purdy berates the agent at the front desk, I unlock one of the windows to Dad’s office and slip out. In a flash, I’m in my truck, shooting through the alley. I take one last look at the station as I drive away. Purdy’s still in the front. Good. Maybe I’ll have a while before he realizes what’s happened.
Just enough time to leave Paradise.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I HAVE BREAKFAST IN A DINER A FEW HOURS outside of Paradise: a steaming pile of pancakes and two sides of bacon. I was never a big coffee drinker, but I’m on my third cup. I need to stay alert and awake. I’ve got a long drive ahead of me.
Between bites of pancakes, I spin my burner phone on the table. My actual phone is sitting somewhere on the side of the road outside of Paradise, completely wiped clean of all my personal files and run over by my truck. All the info I need is on my burner now. I’m concerned about Sarah not having my number if she tries to contact me, but I can’t risk anyone tracking me. Besides, I still have email, and I plan on emailing her every day until I see her again. I’ll have GUARD figure out how to block my IP address or bounce my emails off a satellite or something.
I’ve already cancelled the automatic blog post. It will remain in my drafts folder for now. I’m not ready to come out with all this information. Something tells me I need to save it for later, when it can be used more strategically.
