Return to Paradise

But I can’t stop digging—can’t just go back to the way things were before everything went nuts at the school. Which means that things could get even more dangerous for me, and for Sarah.

I start to wonder what my family would do if I just disappeared one day. If the FBI or Mogs took me. What would the editors of the blog think?

Would all the research and fact-finding I’ve tried to do have been for nothing?

After a while I pull my computer to the bed and start typing up everything I can remember about the Mogs from the attack on the school. It’s part eyewitness account, part profile on the evil aliens. I don’t want to forget any details, and it may come in handy one day if we ever have to try to explain to people what really happened that night—or how to fight the Mogs. Or if I get in over my head and suddenly disappear.

I leave the document saved as a private draft on the blog, unsure of what to do with it. Posting it will just send the FBI after me—or the Mogs. They’d probably show up in the middle of the night and gut me with their glowing weapons. It’s not a pleasant thought, which is probably why I have a terrible dream once I finally go to bed. It starts off great—one of those dreams where it seems so mundane at first that there’s no question that what you’re seeing is reality. Sarah and I are in an old cabin that my family used to vacation at up in Michigan—one that I don’t think I’ve been to since I was twelve years old. We’re sitting in the room I always used to claim as my own, the one with two twin beds that were covered with these amazing electric blankets that I’d refuse to get out from under on cold mornings. But it’s not cold in the dream. In fact, it feels like spring, everything bathed in this peaceful golden light.

Sarah’s on one of the twin beds and I’m on the other, and we’re just talking. She’s saying something about an upcoming cheerleading competition, and I’m telling her she’ll be perfect. And she’s smiling so much. We’re both so happy. The dream is filled with happiness, like it’s in the air we’re breathing.

And then there’s a noise outside. I look through the window and see a huge beast—one of the creatures that attacked the school. A Mog monster, all yellow eyes and claws and horns. It’s coming right for us.

I turn away and go to grab Sarah, but she’s gone. Mog soldiers have poured into the room, their swords glowing different colors. They’re all grinning this sick grin, showing off their gray teeth.

One of them has Sarah.

She reaches out and calls my name. I step towards her. And then something juts out of her chest, right where her heart is. Something long and sharp and glowing.

Sarah screams. Her eyes go wide, and then her body goes slack. And then she’s gone. Her body turns to ash and blows away as if she were an alien.

It’s my own shout that wakes me up, sweating in the upstairs office. I text Sarah on the new number, but she doesn’t answer.

She must be asleep.

At some point I must pass out again, because the next thing I know, light is filtering in through the windows and I can smell bacon cooking downstairs. I’m a little disoriented but head to the bathroom and brush my teeth and stuff before meeting Nana in the kitchen.

“Your father’s still asleep up in his room,” she says with a bit of an edge to her voice. “Probably will be for a while. And he’ll wake up in a crappy mood.” She smirks a little. “Serves him right.”

I grab a slice of bacon from the ever-growing stack she’s got going beside the stove and devour half of it in one bite.

“He’ll be okay, right?” I ask.

“Oh, of course. The James men have always just been a stubborn brood.” Nana raises a white eyebrow towards me. “You’re no exception.”

I act hurt, as if she’s wounded me with some imaginary bullet. She chuckles to herself. Then there’s a knock on the door. She gives me a questioning look, but I just shake my head. She sighs.

“They’ll be for your father, I bet.” She looks down at her apron, which is smudged with grease.

“I’ll stall them,” I say. “You go get him up. He won’t yell at you as much.”

She pats me on the shoulder and walks away. I shove the rest of the bacon slice into my mouth and head for the front door, expecting to find Todd or one of Dad’s deputies.

Instead, I open the door and see Agent Walker. At the foot of the porch, Agent Noto stands tall, with his hands clasped in front of him.

My face must register my surprise, because Agent Walker raises a hand in front of her chest as if to calm me down.

“What do you want?” I ask, not trying to hide the anger in my voice. For all I know, it was these two who tried to run me and Sarah off the road yesterday.

“Calm down, Mr. James,” Walker says. She frowns. “We’re only here to ask you a few questions.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“Mr. James—Mark—it’s imperative that you tell us anything you know about what Sarah Hart was doing after school yesterday.”

“Why should I tell you anything?” I ask.

“Because Sarah never made it home last night,” Walker says.

There’s a silence that settles over the porch. I can’t tell if I’m imagining it or if it’s just being caused by the sudden pounding in my ears.

“Wh-what do you mean?” I manage to stammer.

“Her parents filed a report last night,” Walker explains. “Since Ms. Hart is a person of interest, we’re bypassing the normal waiting period required to declare someone a missing person and jumping straight into the investigation. So I ask you again, Mark: What did Sarah do after school yesterday?”