Somehow evading Jessa's insistent requests for Miles to join them for a nightly hunt in the woods, Miles locked himself in his cabin that night. Locked, because he didn't trust that Jessa wouldn't creep in and drag him out against his will, forcing him to participate in one of her bloody orgies. Or that Taryn wouldn't sneak in and slither into his bed and start undressing him.

Even hearing the click of the lock, he wasn't sure he was safe. For all he knew, Jessa and her special ruler powers might be able to unlock doors.

He tried not to overthink it as he settled on his mattress and extracted Ms. Moreno's notebook from beneath his sweater. He'd kept it clutched against his skin the whole evening, suffering through Lorenzo and Taryn's scrutiny at his lack of enthusiasm. Through Vick's veiled insults as he knifed through the food he'd caught—a deer, which stunned Miles. And through Jessa's eerie proximity as she whisked around him, sniffling him, eager to get her claws into him.

She wouldn't, not if he could help it.

On a whim, he got under the covers, using a flashlight to read through the book. The ruler wouldn't be watching him, too busy infiltrating into Jessa and taking her over completely. But who was to say the gods themselves weren't watching? Miles had no idea how they worked, if they were even real. What kind of powers they'd have—the word powers made him shudder. Or, on a more realistic yet sadistic level: what if there were cameras in the cabins? Clearly, whoever or whatever the overseers of this island were, they had power, money, and access to the most upgraded technology. He wouldn't take any risks.

He opened the book and was instantly submerged into it, as if it had transported him to another world. He read, his jaw dropping further with every page he turned, with every line of words Ms. Moreno had written. Conspiracies, scribbles of information, cut-outs of documentation; she'd been thorough in her research, and hadn't left out a single idea or piece of intelligence that she'd received.

The gods, the ones Miles kept doubting the existence of... were real. Ms. Moreno, a firm scientist and an atheist, according to what he'd overheard her talking about a few days prior, had found proof of these deities. She'd uncovered tales of them, legends detailing how they'd come to be, when they'd come to be, and where they came from.

They weren't from earth.

Miles massaged his jaw, as it had become sore from the constant dropping. "What the fuck?" Page after page, his eyes grew wide and dry from his astonishment. "They're not gods, then? They're aliens?"

He later received his answer—yes, aliens. God aliens. Ms. Moreno had discovered that they were part of a secret governmental project. The American government had formed a sort of alliance with an alien planet, through its gods. Gods who didn't believe that any of the religions on earth were real, and considered the American government as earth's true god.

Miles scoffed. "Wow, so they're deranged alien gods." Of all governments and political groups to consider gods, he'd never have chosen the United States of America. If anything, they were the opposite of gods. They were demons overreaching for power, corrupt men seeking more corruption, more money, and every ounce of authority they could get their grubby hands on.

Why would an alien planet reach out to them to form an alliance with earth?

They're evil, deranged, alien gods.

They'd negotiated, Ms. Moreno claimed, but she hadn't been able to find all the details of said negotiation. "All we know is that this has been going on for some time, likely more than I'd originally thought. This alliance was strong, secret, and no other country in the world was aware of it. The U.S. kept it hush-hush; of course, they'd never share anything this monumental with any other countries that might need it more."

Miles shook his head. "Should I even keep reading?" His arms and legs trembled, not only from the uncomfortable, half-curled up position he was lying in. "I'm scared of what I'm about to find out."

But he had to keep going. He had to dig deeper. With whatever Ms. Moreno had found out, he might be able to save himself, to save Kera, to save everyone. What he'd needed was leverage, and that leverage was contained within Ms. Moreno's book.

As it turned out, the government, acting on its agreements with these gods, filtered money into this island. It was where the gods had chosen to settle, liking the climate, the vegetation, the layout. And to protect them, the government wiped the island off the maps. It had in fact been on maps decades ago, and Ms. Moreno had taped print-outs of those maps for evidence. Somehow, the Americans had made the island disappear, and must have bribed anyone who'd been aware of it into keeping quiet.

"I did manage to re-bribe a handful of people, but they won't let me use their names if I go public with this," Ms. Moreno had composed, in a margin next to one of the maps. Paradise Island was scrawled over the top of the map, with an arrow pointing at a small cluster of an island, in the shape of a sideways U.

"How the fuck did she find all this out?" Miles fidgeted, then stuck his head out from under the blanket to get some air. He'd been suffocating already, but with the onrush of news that he was reading, his lungs were clogging up and he couldn't breathe. It was a lot to take in, a lot to digest.

So the alien gods got comfortable, beginning to work on their end of the bargain, which involved prosperity. They were to be protectors of the earth, it seemed; against outside forces that might attack.

"Outside forces?" Miles dropped the book, and it fell heavily onto his lap. "So, there are more aliens out there?"

He'd never not believed that there was life outside of earth. But his science focused more on medicines, therapy, human bodies; he knew little about space and other lifeforms on other planets. Though it was a fascinating topic, and he was even more fascinated seeing that Ms. Moreno seemed to have specialized in it.

"Ms. Moreno, you sly little thing, you."

He took hold of the book, squinting down at Ms. Moreno's next words, which were cryptic—more so than anything else she'd written so far. "As I understand it, the alien's idea of prosperity was to cleanse the world. And by cleansing, they meant ridding it of what they considered to be parasites—defective humans. Yes, they had the ability to create a virus that would spread all over the world and assault the weak. To weed out the strong, and cleanse the planet, making more room for those they deemed good. For them to thrive."

Miles nearly threw off the blankets to toss the book against the wall. "What the fuck?" His breaths sped up, and he growled. "Humans are parasites to them? Then why even come to this planet?" He glared down at the paragraph, his eyes burning. "They basically created a pandemic to kill humans off?"

He considered taking a break from reading. The others were outside, partying. He heard them shouting and laughing, getting rowdy. Whenever he lifted the covers for a breather, he sighted bonfire-like flames from the between the curtains over his window, and figures jumping about.

They must have gotten the booze out again.

There was a tiny part of him that regretted not partaking in all their drinking and hunting and fucking. After all, letting go of one's inhibitions could be freeing, right? He wasn't interested in the violence, and not so much in the love-making under the moonlight—unless Kera was involved. But the imbibing in locally made liquors, the sitting around a fire and exchanging stories, those sounded fun. A great means to forget about the finality of their situation—being stuck together on this island, eternally youthful, running away from monsters that wanted to eat them up if they were disobedient.

Resuming his reading, Miles stretched, switching the hand that was holding the flashlight.

"It was more recently that these gods decided they wanted more from the government. More promises from them. They requested that young adults be sent to them periodically, as a means to center their energy. They needed entertainment, they needed youthful energy to assist them in their arduous tasks."

Miles snickered. "Ah, so this is where they started requisitioning students, then?"

"I couldn't gather much more on the specifics of this, nor how it was negotiated. But knowing our government as I do, I don't think they had many regrets about agreeing to this. So it was agreed upon that their sacrifices," Miles choked, reading the word in bold lettering on the paper, "would be students from colleges across the country. They'd be sent to the island to be tested, but under the guise of a punishment for those who were rebellious and unwilling to follow most rules."

Miles let the book rest on his knees as he pressed a hand to his chest. "Those who were rebellious... me. Vick. Jessa. But Kera?" He shook his head. "She was right. She doesn't belong here, she never did."

"Deans of those schools would choose, upon the gods' request. Then the students would come here and be nudged towards more disobedience. The golden rules were created to provoke the kids, to tempt them into doing exactly what they weren't supposed to. Their disobedience would lead them straight into the arms of the gods, on the bad side, where they'd be further tested to see if they were worth the gods' time. If they were, they'd become permanent residents, there to entertain. And the moment they stopped being entertaining..."

Miles gulped. "We are sacrifices, then. Sent here as toys to the gods, to keep them compliant towards their agreements with the government. Fuck," he growled, "this is the worst shit I've read in a while."

Mr. Reynolds had hand-picked him, Vick, and Kera to get in line to potentially become play-things for alien gods. For a greater cause, he supposed, or so that was what Mr. Reynolds and the Deans across the country were led to believe.

Miles' head was aching, pain searing from one temple to the other. He couldn't tell if it was because he was reading thanks to a flimsy flashlight, or if the information he was reading was getting to his brain, filling it with fear, with rage. Or if he was too tired to deal with all this right then.

He'd reached the middle of the book, and thought he'd read the most important parts, by then; and yet, there was a final entry made by Ms. Moreno. The ink was barely dry, and he assumed she'd written this section in the past few days, before her untimely death. He gritted his teeth.

"It's been difficult to gather all this, and I know I'm in trouble. I know I'm pushing my luck. Those I've interrogated are in trouble, too. But it's this, or let things be, and get worse. Because they will get worse. These gods, they're never satiated. They'll never have enough entertainment, and they'll keep asking for more students to be sent their way. Those they have currently... they're not meant to last. The gods get bored fast, their moods swing, their preferences shift."

Miles' fingers trembled as he underlined every word, reading slowly, absorbing the information.

"They know what I'm up to, what we are up to. And they're pissed. Not only because they're on the verge of being exposed, but because the students brought to them are weaker and weaker, or so I understand. The quality is degrading, or so I've been informed. And if they get too upset, our planet may be at more risk than it was before they offered their protection to us."

Again, Miles wondered how the hell Ms. Moreno had piled up so much on what the actual situation was. Who had she spoken to that had given her all this? The gods, the partnership, the sacrifices, the virus-spreading—had she had contacts within the government? A few Deans who were willing to speak up on what was going on? Had she befriended someone on the island, like the girl who'd given Miles the book?

"They're in a position to introduce another pandemic if the government doesn't comply and start sending them better sacrifices. If the government doesn't listen, this time."

Miles scrunched his eyebrows. "This time? What does she mean?" He reread the paragraph. "So this isn't the first time the government and the gods haven't seen eye to eye?"

"They won't hesitate to inject a few humans with another incurable disease, if it means it'll get the government's attention. And this time, the government might not have a chance to come up with vaccines and medications before it's too late, and half the world's population is wiped out."

"Wait," Miles slammed the book shut, "did they cause Covid-19?" He kicked at it with his foot, startling as it thumped on the floor. "Did those fuckers start the pandemic because they were throwing a hissy fit over not having better entertainment for their downtime when they weren't working to keep our planet safe and prosper?" He spat on the ground and hopped to his feet, storming up to the window. "Did they prolong the pandemic on purpose, because the government wasn't following their orders?"

The epidemic had taken so many lives, had swept the world with despair and disarray. It had caused rifts between populations, amplified conspiracy theories, divided neighbors and families. It had taken a toll on Miles, who'd lost countless friends and acquaintances from the virus. He'd studied the virus up close, too, with his parents, and was baffled at how it multiplied, re-formed, resisted all attempts to eliminate it.

And now he'd found out the gods who'd taken possession of the island he was stuck on might have been the cause behind it all?

He'd been ready to hurl all the blame on them, but the blame resided also with the government. They'd been slacking in their offerings, they'd stopped appeasing the gods properly, and there were consequences. But Miles wasn't mad about that; he was mad that they'd stoop as low as to make an alliance with alien gods in the first place.

Hadn't anyone in the White House watched a science-fiction movie, or read an alien horror novel? Didn't they know that forming contracts with outside species never worked out? In Miles' experience, most foreign entities weren't benevolent. They were the parasites. They snuck in and posed as benefactors when in truth, they wanted the planet for themselves. Who was to say these gods weren't doing that? Stealing? Maybe their own planet was in awful shape, and they needed a new place to host their people. And maybe they couldn't have any humans around when they settled in.

Miles glowered outside, at his fellow captives whooping and sloshing liquor down their throats and removing their clothes. They had no idea. No clue that they were involved in a deep-seated, dark government experiment. A conspiracy, an alliance that transformed them into entertainment for a group of alien gods who were never satisfied.

It was all a big mess, and it irked Miles the more he thought of it. The American government had agreed to sending students to the gods, but the gods weren't happy with their offerings, so they created a horrific virus that decimated humankind. And by doing so, they made the government's job even harder, because they didn't have students to send. Schools were closed, and many potential students were dead from the sickness.

The aliens had trapped the government, tricked them into a one-way deal that would lead to the world's destruction. Ms. Moreno had discovered, somehow...

And she was dead.

"Fuck," said Miles, pulling away from the window. "Am I next? Do they know that I know, too?"