I've been on the run for an entire day. Thirst is clawing at my throat, and my legs feel like lead, but I can't stop. And the worst part? The phone—the one with the evidence—is gone. I'm certain the CIA has it now.
I'm stranded in the middle of nowhere, but I finally caught a break: I found a stream nearby. With a source of water, the night might be bearable. Besides, the human body can endure hunger for a while before giving out. I think I'll just stay awake and watch these beautiful stars.
Johnson closed the diary and lay back on the grass. As he gazed upward, he noticed an unusual amount of movement among the lights in the sky.
"Stars must be busy tonight," he murmured, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips.
He was still watching when a blinding light suddenly streaked toward him. Panic surged through him, and he scrambled to his feet to run, but he was too late. Two gun barrels were already leveled at his face.
"Don't move or I'll shoot!" the first officer barked, closing the distance. "We have direct orders to do whatever is necessary."
Knowing he was completely outmatched, Johnson slowly raised his hands behind his head in a gesture of surrender. The officers tightened their grip on their triggers, ready to fire, when a roar of an engine cut through the silence.
A car was screaming toward them at high speed, obliterating every obstacle in its path. As the officers turned, distracted by the oncoming vehicle, Johnson seized the moment and bolted. The car plowed into the two officers and kept hurtling straight for Johnson. He ran for his life, but he was no match for the machine's velocity.
Suddenly, the car screeched to a halt. The driver leaned out and shouted, "I'm here to help you, not kill you!"
"Said the person who just ran over two dudes!" Johnson yelled back, his mistrust fueling his stride.
The driver stepped out of the car, standing in the open to prove she wasn't a threat. Johnson finally stopped, panting, and demanded, "So what are you here for, then?"
"I'm investigating the death of a sergeant," she replied. "According to my information, you're the last person he spoke to before he died."
Johnson shook his head, his voice dripping with skepticism. "Listen, lady, a few days ago I was just a normal guy trying to pull my life together after wasting half of it. That all changed when I found a freaking spaceship with a dead man inside..."
"That was the sergeant," the driver interrupted. "The one whose death I was sent down here to investigate."
Johnson froze. "Sent? Sent by who? And what do you mean, 'down here'?"
"Listen, human, I know you have a lot of questions," she said urgently, "but right now I need you to get in. We need to find somewhere safe."
"Nowhere is safe!" Johnson yelled. "The CIA is all over me. They have all my information!"
"None of that will be a problem if you just get in the car. Let's go," she countered.
Johnson hesitated, eyeing the car and then the dark horizon. "How do I know you're not CIA? How do I know this isn't just some twisted game to see what else I know?"
She gestured toward the vehicle with a mysterious look. "Only one way to find out."
Johnson took a deep breath and climbed in. The tires spun, and they vanished into the night.