Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 75195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Let me in, Peiter.”
“Whatever you want me to do, I am not doing.”
“It’s two small tasks. Very simple.”
“Two small tasks? Nothing is small with you.”
“Very simple. Open the door so I can—”
“No way! It’s all out now.” Fear laced his voice. “The government can’t keep it hushed up anymore. Aliens! They’re real. I told you!”
“Okay. You did.” I nodded. “Let’s talk about that some more with my coming—”
“I can’t risk exposure!”
“What do you mean?”
“You could be an alien that has figured out how to transform into—”
“Peiter, come on. I’m not an alien. You’ve known me since we were kids.”
Silence.
Sighing, I unzipped the bag and pulled out the Little Gourmet meal.
The scent of freshly cooked burgers and fries filled the air around me.
I whistled. “I’ve got your favorite. Double bacon cheeseburger, extra pickles, crispy fries, special dipping sauce, root beer, and don’t forget the apple pie.”
Silence.
“When’s the last time you had food from Star-Crossed Diner?”
More silence.
“Alright.” I looked at the bag. “You have less than five minutes to let me in. If not, then I will sit in front of this door and lovingly eat this in front of you.”
The speakers crackled again.
There was a note of longing in Peiter’s voice. “Apple pie too?”
“Of course.”
“Fine, but remember, this is a one-time exception. I can’t be too careful these days.”
I curved my lips into a big smile. “Thank you.”
The rusted metal door groaned in protest before it creaked open, revealing Peiter’s lair.
It was a jarring contrast to the outside world.
Flickering neon lights revealed rows upon rows of computers, servers, and monitors casting an artificial glow upon the vintage propaganda posters adorning the walls. The hum of electricity and occasional beeps, clicks, and soft keyboard strokes were the only sounds punctuating the quiet that shrouded his haven.
I stepped in, greeted by the familiar sight of Peiter’s anxiety nest, appreciating the strange yet comforting blend of the past and future it offered.
In the end, this was Peiter’s universe, a place where he felt safe and in control.
The rusted door swung shut behind me with an echoing clang.
Standing in the middle of the digital pandemonium was the man himself, Peiter. His physique was gaunt, a byproduct of a lifestyle that seldom saw sunlight or physical activity. His unkempt, shoulder-length hair formed a wild halo around his head.
A pair of large, thick-rimmed glasses covered his eyes.
Peiter had a strange habit of twisting his hands when he was anxious.
As I approached, his fingers writhed together, creating an odd dance of nervous energy. His clothes were mismatched and looked more like comfortable sleepwear than anything else—a green and brown flannel shirt paired with faded yellow jeans and worn gray slippers.
I scowled. “I have sent you boxes and boxes of clothes.”
“I received them.” Peiter pointed to the right were a pile of boxes leaned against the wall. “I have told you time and time again, that I have no need for clothes. But, thank you for all of the supplies of food. When the apocalypse arrives, I will be prepared, my friend.”
Sighing, I walked forward.
He held out his hand. “Stop.”
I paused.
His gaze darted back and forth between the bag of food in my hands and then, the door behind me, a silent struggle playing out across his features. “If you are Tristan, then which Teenage Mutant Ninja turtle is your favorite?”
“First of all, I am Tristan, and as you know, to pick one out of the Four as a favorite would be absolute blasphemy to me.”
Peiter exhaled. “It is you. Thank God.”
“Do you want the food or not?”
He smiled. “Set it down on the table.”
I did and then headed away, knowing he wouldn’t come too close to me.
Once there was ample space between the food and me, he rushed over to the bag and began pulling everything out. “The government is in cahoots with the aliens, you know.”
I strolled over to one wall of monitors. Pre-recorded reports flashed from news outlets all over the world. Each one ran with some sort of alien-related headline.
“And not just the government, Tristan. Major corporations. Tech giants. They’re all in on it.” He took a large bite into the burger. “Ummm. Just like back in the day.”
I dove my hands into my pockets. “I need two things from you.”
Peiter chewed on the burger as his eyes nervously darted around the room, settling on a particularly large monitor that showed blurry Pentagon footage of what I guessed must have been a UFO.
I pulled out a piece of paper with Nova’s name and address on it. “I want all the information you can get on this woman, along with any video, including any monitoring within her apartment.”
“That’s it?”
“I don’t know if she has security cameras in her place, but—”
“Doesn’t matter.” He shoved fries into his mouth. “I can get some footage on her in the apartment, whether she has security cameras in there or not.”