A New Beginning

by Kevin Ryan

  ROSWELL

  A NEW BEGINNING

  * * *

  1

  My name is Liz Parker, Liz wrote into her notebook. Then

  she paused and put down her pen. The notebook was

  new, which Liz thought was appropriate since she was

  starting a new phase of her life. From this point on, things

  will never be the same, she thought as the road swept past

  the van window.

  Since she was eight, Liz had religiously kept a diary.

  However, in the last three years, the entries had gotten a

  lot more interesting.

  Three years earlier she had been shot. Three years ear-

  lier she had died. Three years earlier Max had healed her

  and brought her back.

  And yet those were just the first in a series of strange

  events that had happened since. They were not even the

  strangest things that had occurred.

  Max. Aliens. The Skins. Losing her friend Alex. Then

  Max dying and coming back to her.

  Strange things, yes. And many changes. Even now, she

  knew her body was changing. When Max had brought her

  * * *

  back, he had changed something inside of her. Part of his

  alien self had touched Liz and made her like him—had

  made her part alien.

  The word no longer meant what it used to for Liz. When

  she was a girl it meant monsters from space—monsters

  that weren't real.

  Now it meant Max, Michael, and Isabel—people she

  knew and, in the case of Max, loved. Now alien meant Liz

  herself. When Max had healed her he had given her the

  gift of life. He had also given her powers that had lain dor-

  mant until a few months ago.

  She now sometimes saw things before they happened.

  And she could occasionally move things with her mind.

  She had made a harmless schoolbook burst into flames.

  The changes Max had started in her three years ago were

  not finished, Liz was sure. Would they be a gift? Or a curse?

  They were frightening. Of that much she was sure.

  Turning her head, she looked at Max. He was concen-

  trating on driving. Like the others and like Liz herself, he

  was silent—lost in his own thoughts.

  But he sensed Liz looking at him and shot her a glance,

  raising his eyebrows to ask a question that he did not have

  to speak out loud.

  Anything wrong? his look said.

  With a smile and a shake of her head, Liz responded

  just as silently and just as clearly.

  Liz was no longer surprised at how often they didn't need

  to speak out loud to communicate or to know what the other

  was thinking. It wasn't an alien trick, though. She knew other

  couples who enjoyed the same kind of communication.

  Turning her head, she saw her best friend, Maria, sitting

  * * *

  in the van directly behind her. Maria gave Liz a thin smile.

  Next to her was Michael, who was looking intently out the

  window. In the seats behind them were Kyle and then

  Isabel, who was also staring out the window, looking

  lost—maybe more lost than any of them.

  Liz understood. Isabel had given up a lot. Just a few

  hours ago, she had been a married woman looking for-

  ward to her life with Jesse.

  Now, she was on the road—or was it on the run?—with

  Liz, Max, and the others.

  Changes ... for all of them.

  Liz picked up her pen and started to write.

  I thought things had changed three years ago, when I

  learned the truth about Max, Isabel, and Michael And while

  many things did change, my friends and I still went to school

  every day and went to sleep in our own beds most nights.

  Even as our lives seemed to have changed completely, our

  world stayed almost unnaturally the same. I was still Liz

  Parker: good daughter, good student, and good girl.

  I was going to do well in high school, win a science fair or

  two, and go to a good college: Northwestern. Then on to a good

  career. Now, on the night of my high school graduation, I am in

  a van . . . just going. Not even Max has a plan or a destination

  this time. Everything I thought might happen to me and every

  plan I ever made just disappeared.

  Yes, this is the biggest change of our lives. This time, not only

  our perceptions will be different, but our whole world.

  Liz. put down the pen. She took another glance at Max.

  He was alert. Liz herself, however, felt her eyes growing

  heavy. All the excitement she had felt earlier in the day had

  washed out of her.

  * * *

  As her eyes closed, she felt Max's eyes on her.

  No, everything hadn't changed. There is one thing I am

  still sure of, Liz thought as she fell asleep.

  Max heard the change in Liz's breathing and knew she was

  asleep. The others were silent. He didn't have to turn

  around to see that his friends and sister were deep inside

  themselves.

  He was particularly worried about Liz and Isabel. Of all

  of them, they had given up the most to follow him. . . .

  No, Max stopped himself. To come with him on this . . .

  what was it? A road trip? An adventure? An escape?

  Maybe it was all of those. Maybe they wouldn't find out

  for a while yet. Max only hoped it lasted long enough for

  them to find out. He was still concerned that someone

  from the remains of the FBI's Special Unit was tracking

  them. It was unlikely, but unlikely was the story of their

  lives lately.

  Or perhaps the Skins were onto them.

  Again unlikely, but. . .

  Max decided he would have to be content with the

  nearly empty road for now.

  The only thing he was sure of was that he was not the

  leader of this expedition. He was not the King here.

  Max had given up that role when he'd told the others

  what he was doing. He would not make the decision for

  the group, only for himself.

  The others had all come on their own. Max was not

  leading them.

  Yet, he knew that he was ultimately responsible for

  them. That he could not shake. He had sealed everyone's

  * * *

  fate three years ago in the Crashdown Cafe when he had

  healed Liz. And again later that day when he'd refused to

  run, though Michael had insisted they do just that.

  He had sensed that Liz could help them, and she did.

  So had Alex and he died for it. After that, Agent Pierce of

  the Special Unit had found them. Agent Pierce who had

  put Max into the White Room.

  Agent Pierce, whom Michael had to kill in self-defense.

  Michael paid a high price for it. Though his friend refused

  to talk about it, Max knew that Michael was still paying

  that price.

  Then there was Tess, her betrayal, and Max's own son

  whom Max had lost, then found again. Max had given him

  up finally, but at least now th
e boy had a chance at a nor-

  mal life.

  All of that had happened because of Max's decision

  three years ago. Yet, even now he knew that not healing

  Liz had not been an option. Even then, even before they

  had become . . . close. Before they were together.

  He could not have let her die. So he saved her and the

  whole group of them paid for his single act. Alex paid with

  his life.

  Isabel paid with the end of her short marriage to Jesse

  and her only chance at a normal life.

  Liz paid in tears. Way too many of them. She paid in

  other ways, too, deeper and more important ones.

  But no more, Max vowed. If he accomplished nothing

  else with the rest of his life, he would keep her safe and do

  his best to make her happy for as long as she would have

  him.

  Turning to Michael, Max whispered, breaking the

  * * *

  silence that had lasted almost an hour. "You were right,

  you know," he said.

  "What?" Michael asked.

  "Three years ago, after Liz was shot—you were right,"

  Max said.

  Max saw his friend looking at him with raised eye-

  brows. "That's funny, Maxwell, I was just thinking that I

  was wrong. It you had listened to me, Liz would have

  died."

  "No," Max said, shaking his head gently. "I was right

  about that, but we should have done this that night. We

  should have run."

  For a moment, Michael was silent, and Max saw every-

  thing he needed to see in his best friend's eyes. Michael

  didn't gloat, though.

  Michael made a small grin and said, "Does this mean

  that from now on you'll listen to me?"

  Max found himself returning the grin. "I always lis-

  tened."

  "And then did whatever the hell you wanted," Michael

  added. "What's the plan now?"

  "Plan? You're asking the wrong guy. I'm just the driver,"

  Max replied.

  Michael seemed surprised. Then he nodded.

  He knows I'm serious, Max thought. And I am. More seri-

  ous than I have ever been.

  Michael smiled again. "Okay, Jeeves, tell me when we

  get there." He leaned back in his seat.

  Max saw something he almost couldn't identify on his

  best friend's face. A smile. Not a grin, but a smile—an

  actual, full-blown smile.

  * * *

  It took Max a moment to figure out what was wrong

  with that smile. He realized there were two things. First,

  Michael smiling at all was unusual. The second was that

  the smile looked almost. . . relaxed.

  In the last three years—and even the fifteen before

  that—Max could rarely remember seeing Michael relaxed.

  Something had changed in Michael, Max knew. He just

  wasn't sure what it was yet.

  Well, I've got plenty oj time to figure it out, Max thought.

  It took a moment for him to realize how important that

  notion was. In the past, he had jumped on every mystery

  or question as if his life and the lives of the others had

  depended on it. Quite often their lives had depended on

  those answers. Depended on Max acting quickly. On

  doing the right thing, making the right move.

  Not anymore.

  Now they had time.

  Max and Liz had time to sort themselves out. Max had

  time to figure out what was happening with Michael.

  Isabel had time to come to terms with losing Jesse.

  Time and open road.

  Max smiled to himself and realized that his own smile

  was relaxed as well.

  * * *

  2

  it

  took a moment for Liz to realize where she was. She

  looked around as the room seemed to take form, to solidify.

  She was standing alone in the band room. Waiting. For

  Max.

  She was excited. Nervous but excited.

  Max was going to meet her. It was a secret meeting, and

  the thought thrilled her for a second. Guilt rose up. Kyle

  couldn't know. He wouldn't understand.

  She didn't understand yet, herself, but she was sure that

  Max would explain it to her. He would explain what he

  had done to her. How he had saved her. How he had mag-

  ically healed the gunshot wound in her stomach.

  How he had brought her back to life.

  Liz realized she should be afraid of Max, but she wasn't

  because she loved him and he loved her.

  No.

  Not yet. That would come later.

  She was aware of that contradiction, but it didn't trouble

  her. The logic of dreams made it all perfectly clear.

  * * *

  And this was a good dream. Liz would not question it.

  Max was coming and he would explain everything.

  Then she had something to tell him.

  After a few moments of waiting, he entered the room.

  Liz could see his perpetually serious expression soften for

  a moment when he saw her. Something flashed in his eyes

  and across his face. Liz was sure there was no single word

  for that expression, but she knew it was good.

  She was also sure that something similar passed across

  her own face.

  Then Max's control was back and his expression grim.

  "Liz, we need to talk," he said simply.

  It was then that Liz realized that she didn't want to talk.

  There had been too much talk. Three years of discussion.

  Three years of worry.

  A voice inside her said, None of that has happened yet.

  You are not with Max yet. You are with Kyle.

  It was easy to push the voice down. It was even easier

  to lean into Max and kiss him. He responded immediately.

  Of course, he was her . . . boyfriend. The word seemed

  much too small for what he was to her, but it would have

  to suffice until. . . until what?

  Until that changed, sometime in the future. Not the

  future of the dream, Liz realized, but the future of her

  waking now.

  Even in her dream state, Liz was aware of the difference

  between her dream reality and the reality that awaited her

  when she woke up.

  It was another contradiction that didn't trouble Liz as

  she kissed him more deeply. He pulled her to him.

  They were done with questions, problems, and issues.

  * * *

  Finally, they had found their answer. Liz was sure she had

  found hers, and she held him tightly.

  Her awareness shifted to the real world, which she felt

  hovering above her like the surface of the water when you

  were under it. A hand brushed her cheek. Max's hand, she

  was sure.

  The touch was a like an electric shock. She felt the

  room shifting around her. She also felt Max slipping out of

  her arms.

  When the world solidified around her, she realized that

  he had disappeared.

  No, not exactly, she realized.

  Taking in her new surroundings, Liz saw that it was she

  who had disappeared. There were lockers on both sides of

  her.

  I'm in the hallway of school, she thought. Immediately,

  Liz realized that she didn't want to be here. Something was
>
  wrong with this place.

  Liz started to run, trying to find her way back to the

  band room, where she sensed Max was waiting for her.

  She tried every door she found, but they were all

  locked. Though the classroom doors all had glass panes,

  she couldn't see inside any of them.

  We're running out oj time, a voice that Liz dimly recog-

  nized as her own rose up inside her.

  Finally, she came to a single door with a light on inside.

  "Max," she called out as she peered inside. The single fig-

  ure inside the classroom was not Max, though.

  It was Alex.

  But Alex is dead, she thought.

  Pulling on the door, she saw that it was locked. Alex

  * * *

  obviously heard her and turned to see her. He looked at

  her calmly and expectantly.

  Liz pulled on the door with all of her strength.

  Alex will help me, she thought desperately. He will help

  me find Max.

  But the door wouldn't budge.

  We're running out of time, the inner voice yelled.

  Turning, Liz looked down the hallway. At the very end

  she could see the door to the band room.

  Her legs felt like jelly, but Liz made them work through

  sheer will. Soon, she was racing down the hall at full speed

  and somehow finding more strength to go even faster.

  Max is behind that door, Liz thought, but the door

  receded, even as she approached.

  Then there was a flash of orange light that threw Liz to

  the hallway floor. When she looked up, a wall of flames

  stood in front of her, blocking her way to Max.

  Then she sensed something behind her. A monster, the

  inner voice said. And this one's real.

  Turning to look, Liz saw something coming for her, rac-

  ing toward her . . . across the desert.

  Liz barely noticed the change of scenery.

  She had to get up. She had to do something.

  But her peripheral vision caught sight of something on

  the ground nearby. It was Max. He was holding someone,

  Michael, who was lying on the ground.

  Michael was hurt, she could see. No, not hurt, the inner

  voice said.

  Max put Michael gently to the ground. As he did, he

  moaned. It was a terrible sound that told her without a

  doubt that Michael was much more than hurt. It was then