Witness [A First Contact Romance]

12. Disinformation

Earth

2018

Nothing in the world–in the universe–existed except for the methodical beat of Rory's warm breath bouncing off the glass against her face. It was only the beat of her breath and the square of world visible outside her window. Desert sand glowed with moonlight in a sea of glass beneath unending stars. Strangely bright for the night. She'd never noticed that about the desert before.

Not even the wind stirred. All was still. No sign of intruders.

Her hand curled around the glass bottle she'd broken against the wall. Carefully, she had stepped around the shattered debris and had crept from one window to the next. Now Rory stared out at the eastern night sky, waiting. For what? She didn't know.

The attack probably wasn't something she could see. It could have been Russia or North Korea taking down their power grid. Or hackers infiltrating the network, forcing the military to cut power to the system.

But Rory waited for the soldiers to come. The world agreed on little, except that the United States didn't have the right to decide the fate of their world. They could not have sole control of Rory just because she landed in their country.

Not that the US would listen.

Maybe someone was here tonight to ensure they did.

In the stillness, she expected fear to strangle her limbs at any moment. Instead, peace slid over her body. This felt familiar. Much more familiar than pretending to be normal online with people who didn't really know her.

It wasn't just the familiarity, though. It was also right. This was reality. Not dinner with Theo and quiet midnight strolls in her backyard. Rory was not safe. Earth was not safe. Living in the danger harmonized her life where every day before this had been a discordant clash of notes that didn't belong together.

Not even a full minute had passed but time moved so slowly that it felt much longer. So it wasn't very much time before Rory realized she wasn't alone in the house. It wasn't that she'd heard anyone in the other room. She didn't remember noticing a sound. Rather, she'd felt the presence. Simply known.

Twisting, she raised the jagged edges of the bottle like a knife, clasped her wrist to strengthen her stance, and flattened against the wall as she carefully picked her way toward the entrance.

Did she feel confident in her combat skills? Not exactly. Rory didn't think she was a skilled fighter, even if she seemed to know some basics. But she wasn't going to let anything, including that, stop her from fighting off whoever was coming.

This time she did hear a sound. The barely audible squeak of a loose floorboard in the kitchen.

Her heart lodged in her throat as she leapt through the doorway and jabbed her makeshift weapon into the exact spot she knew the intruder to be. Her bottle blended into the darkness of the kitchen, pointed directly toward a light blue eye. The man already had his weapon trained on her, but her bottle was close to his face. Had she made a mistake in rushing? Was this impatience and frustration like what she'd felt in the game tonight? Maybe Rory was done waiting. Maybe she was ready for it to be over. Or she'd forgotten this was real, not the computer.