“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she says.

“What’s a Jolly Roger, anyway?” Sam asks, thinking out loud. “The pirate flag?”

“Yeah,” Sarah replies, nodding. “Like the Paradise High Pirates. Whose old quarterback happens to be one of the only other people outside our group to know what went down at the high school.”

I widen my eyes at Sarah. “No way.”

“Yes way,” she replies. “I think JollyRoger182 is Mark James.”

CHAPTER

THREE

“‘THE MOGADORIANS, ALONG WITH THEIR CRONIES from the corrupted branches of national security, are believed to have fought a protracted battle in New Mexico against the heroic Garde,’” Sam reads aloud. “‘My sources believe the Mogadorians were forced to retreat after their leader sustained an injury. The whereabouts of the Garde remain unknown.’”

“He’s right on the money,” Malcolm says, turning to me. “But where is he getting his information?”

“No idea,” I reply. “We didn’t exactly stay in touch after Paradise.”

I lean over Sam’s shoulder to check out the next story. I’m baffled by the amount of information Mark James—or whoever this is—has posted to They Walk Among Us. There are details of our battle at Dulce Base, early speculation about the attack in Chicago, frightening essays about what Mogs look like and what they’re capable of, and posts rallying humanity in support of the Loric. There are also articles covering topics that I’ve never considered, even ones about which members of the U.S. government are in league with the Mogadorians.

Sam clicks through to a story where Mark accuses the secretary of defense, a man named Bud Sanderson, of using his political clout to pave the way for a Mogadorian invasion. Another click yields a second article about Sanderson, one with the tabloid-friendly headline CORRUPT S.O.D. USING MOGADORIAN GENETIC TREATMENTS. The story is tied to an image of Sanderson from five years ago juxtaposed with one of him from a few months ago. In the first, Sanderson looks like a haggard man in his late seventies—his face is age-spotted and he has a double chin and a steep paunch. In the second, he’s lost weight and has a healthy glow and a full head of silver hair. It’s almost as if he’s time-traveled. In fact, I bet most people would think the picture was a hoax, like it’s a photo of Sanderson from twenty years ago with a fake time stamp. But if you take Mark at his word, something’s definitely changed with the secretary of defense—something way bigger than diet and exercise, or even plastic surgery.

Sam shakes his head, not buying it. “How would Mark possibly know all this? I mean, Sarah, you went out with him. Did he even know how to read?”

“Yes, Sam,” Sarah replies, rolling her eyes. “Mark could read.”

“But he was never, uh, journalistically inclined, was he? This is like WikiLeaks over here.”

“People tend to change when they find out aliens are real,” Sarah responds. “It looks to me like he’s been trying to help.”