GUARD: WHOA.

JOLLYROGER182: i know. can u find anything else out about the mag?

I grab a few loose CDs lying around the desk just in case they’ve got files of interest on them. Unfortunately, I don’t see any kind of computer. Either Sam took it with him, or someone else has already made off with it. With a stack of magazines under my arm, I head out of Sam’s room and through his house, glancing at pictures of his family that line the walls. Sam’s dad is in some of them, staring back at me through thick glasses that look a lot like the ones Sam always wears. I barely remember Malcolm Goode from school parties and stuff when I was a kid. I look down at the pile of crap I’m technically stealing from his son’s room.

“Sorry,” I murmur, and then head to the backyard—through the back door this time.

Outside, I freeze: there’s movement in the woods near the end of the yard. I think about running, but if there isn’t anything there, that’ll cause me to look more suspicious. Just as my palms start to sweat nervously, an owl flies out of the woods. I exhale, telling myself that’s what I must have seen.

The side of the house casts a shadow that I disappear into, pressing myself up against the vinyl siding. I stand there for what feels like a long time watching the road, trying to see any movement or lights—anything that might suggest that there’s a black sedan ready to run me down. But there’s only the breeze and the sound of birds and insects somewhere out in the woods. Finally, I start back to my truck. I’m silently congratulating myself on a job well done when I realize the only thing that means is that the crazy person who was after us the other day was in fact after Sarah. That she’s probably being held captive by them right now.

Or worse.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I STAY UP MOST OF THE NIGHT SENDING PICTURES and scans of the magazines to GUARD. He works his internet magic and comes back to me with several phone numbers for the people who publish They Walk Among Us. He asks if I want him to call, but I take responsibility for it. I’m the one who’s now pored over every column in every issue Sam had, hoping that something—anything—will give me a clue as to where the people holding Sarah might be. Or if not them, where John and Six and Sam might have escaped to. If I can find them, they can use their superpowers to rescue Sarah, no problem.

No problem. I repeat this over and over in my head, hoping that eventually I’ll believe it.

I buy a burner phone after school the next day and start in on the numbers GUARD came up with as I drive home. The first three I call have all been disconnected—not a good sign. The fourth and final number connects, though. Actually, it rings forever, with no voice mail. After about twenty rings, I hang up and call back. I count twenty more, and then I hang up and call back again.

I’ve never been one for subtlety.

After the third ring, someone hangs up the phone. I can hear the muffled sound of a split second of connection.

So someone’s there.

I take a chance and call back. This time the pickup is immediate.

“What do you want?” The voice on the other end of the line is shaky and high-pitched. It’s a man’s voice. By the rate of his breathing, it sounds like he’s hyperventilating.

“Hi, this is . . .” I fumble for a second before landing on a name. “Roger.”

“Whatever you want, Roger, you’ve got the wrong number. Don’t call back.”

“I’m just trying to get some info on They Walk Among Us. Are you one of the writers or editors or whatever?”

“I said, you have the wrong number.”

Click. The voice on the other end is gone.

I slam my fist on my dashboard and try to figure out what to do next. Then I say, “Screw it,” and dial back. This time the man sounds pissed when he answers.

“Don’t. Call. Again.”

“My friend is in trouble,” I blurt out. There’s silence from the other dude, so I continue. “She’s missing. It has something to do with the Mogadorians. I just want to find her. I just want to know that she’s okay.”

I sink back into the driver’s seat, letting my head hit the rest behind me.

“Please,” I say.

There’s a long sigh on the other end of the line. When the voice comes back, it sounds like the guy is crying.

“We don’t publish the newsletter anymore. They’ve taken everything. What more do you want from us? What more do you want? They’ve taken everything.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” I ask, but I can guess. “The Mogs? Did they get to you?”

There’s no answer on the other end. I take the phone away from my ear and stare at it for a moment before hanging up. I shouldn’t be surprised that this was the fate of the magazine. Hell, I’m surprised anyone was left alive at all.

I message GUARD about the conversation. Then I make a proposal.

JOLLYROGER182: the people who subscribed to They Walk Among Us knew about the Mogs. it was in their mag

GUARD: Right. We know that.

JOLLYROGER182: we should change the name of our blog. make it easier for true believers to find

GUARD: You want us to become the new TWAU?

JOLLYROGER182: i think it might help us find some new recruits. and the more people in on this the more chances I have of figuring out what happened to Sarah

GUARD: It’ll make us even bigger targets if the Mogs shut down the old TWAU.

JOLLYROGER182: but u r a computer whiz. untraceable addresses and IPs. im not worried.