by Melinda Metz
"Turn around," she pleaded, feeling so desperate, she was willing to be seen talking to her feet on a public sidewalk. The feet didn't obey. Step by step by step, they kept taking her closer to the museum. To Michael.
Her feet marched her across the UFO parking lot, then straight up the stairs. Maria's hand seemed to have its own brain, too. It opened the apartment door, without knocking, and then the feet moved her straight inside.
Just because I'm here doesn't mean I have to say anything I don't want to say, she thought. I can just tell Michael I thought I left my jacket over here or something. Then I'll just leave. If my demonic feet will let me.
Michael stepped out of the kitchen, and Maria's heart hit her throat. He looked at her like she was the very last person on earth he wanted to see. "Thought I heard someone come in."
Maria's feet walked her right over to him, not stopping until there were only a few inches separating her from him. He took a step back. The feet took a step forward. Okay, ask about the jacket, she told herself.
"Tell me the exact, precise, Michael-Webster-dictionary definition of 'I'm thinking about it,'" she demanded, her voice coming out loud and defiant. Oh, God. Her mouth was possessed, too.
"What?" Michael asked, his voice low.
"Don't pull any crap, Michael. We both know exactly what I'm asking you. Are you going? Or are you staying? Tell me. Right here. Right now," Maria insisted.
I didn't mean to say that! I didn't want to say that! she silently wailed.
Michael went into his usual lockdown mode, giving no indication of what he was thinking or feeling. "Look, I'm not asking for much. What I want is information. And if you're leaving, I want a good-bye. You owe me that much," Maria continued.
She didn't know who she was channeling. But whoever it was, Maria was starting to like her. Michael did owe her a good-bye. He couldn't just disappear from her life as if… as if they barely knew each other.
Michael hesitated, silence filling the room all around them. All the power and fight evaporated from Maria's body. Suddenly she was in control of her feet again. And her mouth. Whatever Michael was going to say to her, she was going to have to hear without whatever force had gotten her this far.
"Good-bye." Michael's voice was flat. His eyes were on hers, but there was no hint of emotion in their gray depths. Not anger. Not sadness. Nothing. Something died inside Maria.
"Good-bye," she repeated. "That's it?"
"That's what you said you wanted," he answered. "What did you expect? You know I've been trying to find a way home my whole life. And the rebellion-my parents were part of that."
His parents. Maria hadn't even thought of that. His parents had been part of the Kindred, and his brother was part of it now. Joining the group was Michael's chance at feeling like part of a family.
"Why couldn't you say that to me before?" she asked. "If you cared about me even a little, tiny bit, you would have come out and-"
Maria stopped herself. What was the point? She was his friend. Someone he might miss a little. Someone he might think about once in a while. But she wasn't vital to him. Not like he was to her. He was her oxygen. Her water. Her sustenance. And she was his friend. Friend. What a weak, pathetic word that was.
"Maria, you know I-" Michael began.
"See you tomorrow." Maria couldn't deal with listening to him try to come up with something nice to say to her. Nice. Another weak, pathetic word. She spun around and raced for the door. Then she flew down the steps. About halfway to the ground, she stumbled. One of her feet slid on the stairs, and she fell sideways, hard.
Agony erupted in her ankle. For a moment all Maria could do was squeeze her eyes shut and let the pain wash through her. Then she grabbed the stair rail with one hand and used her other hand to straighten her leg. When she thought she could stand without screaming, she carefully limped down the remaining stairs.
Maria knew all she had to do was call up to Michael. He'd come down and heal her. That was the kind of thing you did for a friend. But if he did that, he'd have to make a connection with her, and Maria couldn't bear to expose her soul to him. She wasn't sure she could live through that.
***
"Everyone strapped in?" Trevor asked. He and Michael had rigged a bunch of safety harnesses against the back wall of the museum. The force of the wormhole was so strong, it could suck them all in if they weren't careful. He got a yes from everyone but Liz.
"I want to stay upstairs with Max," she said.
"Someone should be with him," Isabel agreed, shooting Liz a grateful look.
"I don't think there'll be anything you can do," Trevor cautioned. He didn't want her to get her hopes up. Hers or Isabel's. The chances of Max surviving the shattering of the consciousness weren't good, although Trevor didn't know for sure what would happen to any of the beings.
"There's nothing I can do down here, either, though, right?" Liz asked, sounding a little desperate.
"Right," Trevor answered. The plan was either going to work or it wasn't. None of them had much control over the situation. He wished they did. This was the most important day of his life, the day the beings could begin to live in freedom, no longer forced to choose between going into hiding or becoming a part of the massive monster that was the consciousness.
"We're opening up the hole pretty much right under the kitchen. If the force gets too strong in the bedroom, go low. Just flatten yourself to the floor," Michael told her.
Liz nodded. "Well… good luck," she said. It seemed like she wanted to say something more, but she just turned and headed for the spiral staircase that led up to Michael's apartment.
"See you afterward, at the postshattering bash," Alex called after her. "Remember, it's formal!"
"Okay, plan review," Michael said. "I'm using one of the Stones to open up the wormhole. Then Trevor's sending in the device. When it's close enough to the home planet-but far enough from here-he detonates it."
"The remote will tell me if the Stone on my planet has been drained of power," Trevor added. "If the indicator light goes from green to red, we're in business."
"Then Trevor and I both use a Stone to shoot power through the hole. We'll blast away until there's no juice left," Michael concluded.
"And then we wait," Isabel said, her voice strong even though there were wells of fear behind her eyes.
"And then we hope," Maria added.
Hope. It was pretty much all they had.
Michael pulled his Stone from his pocket. Trevor positioned the device in one hand and the remote in the other. He felt his pocket to make sure his Stone was still there, even though he knew it was.
"Here goes," Michael announced. He held the Stone out in front of him. Immediately it began to glow with its green-purple light. The light intensified until it was impossible for Trevor to look straight at it.
The museum went totally silent. Trevor didn't think anyone was even breathing. He knew he wasn't. Then he heard it, the soft sucking sound that indicated the hole was beginning to open. He pulled some air into his aching lungs.
We're on our way, he thought. He peered up at the ceiling, blinking away the green and purple dots that looking at the Stone had put in his vision. Yeah. There was a spot that was sort of drooping, almost oozing.
The soft patch of ceiling drooped lower. And then lower. The plaster stretched until it was as thin as a sheet of plastic wrap and almost as transparent. Trevor waited until the spot was absolutely clear. Then, with his human body pumping a stream of sweat all the way down his back, he clicked on the remote and used it to guide the device into the wormhole. The device flew up through the hole in the ceiling so fast, Trevor couldn't even track it.
He turned to look at Michael. Together they began to count. "One, one thousand; two, one thousand; three, one thousand…"
When they reached twenty, it was time. Trevor hit the button on the remote that would detonate the device. Then he stared at the indicator light. I want to see red here, Trevor thought urgently. Give
me some red.
TWELVE
Michael could feel his cheeks rippling from the force of the wormhole as the straps of the safety harness cut into his chest and stomach.
"Still green?" he shouted to Trevor. His brother was only a foot away from him, but the horrible sucking sound of the open hole made it almost impossible to hear anything else.
"Still green," Trevor yelled back.
Crap. Shouldn't it have gone to red by now? What if the whole thing was a bust? Oh, just shut the hell up, he ordered himself. He forced his head to turn toward Trevor, fighting the pull of the wormhole. His brother's eyes were intent on the remote. Michael couldn't see the indicator light, but it didn't matter. Watching Trevor was just as effective. When Michael saw relief flood Trevor's face, he knew what had happened even before Trevor let out a triumphant cry of, "Red!"
Show time. Michael pointed his Stone into the wormhole and let it rip, full strength. The purple-green light flared around him in a huge circle. It was all he could see. It was almost as if he started to become the light. His body began to feel like pure, pulsing energy-all heat and electricity-instead of flesh and bone. He wouldn't be surprised if he started to glow himself or if his veins had been converted into wires, his neurons into circuits.
"Michael, are you all right?" he heard Isabel ask. Her voice sounded like a whisper, although Michael was sure she was screaming her lungs out. "Michael, can you answer me?" she whispered again.
The name Michael sounded strange to him. Almost meaningless. How could he answer her? He was a conduit. He'd thought maybe his body was becoming filled with wires, but now he realized his whole body was one big wire. Its only function was to allow the power of the Stone to surge into the wormhole. Michael felt less alive and more alive than he ever had, all at once.
"Will we know when it happens?" Alex shout whispered.
Michael didn't attempt to answer. He didn't even know the answer. He let the energy slam through him, shoving away any impulse to resist. His legs began to twitch, then his arms, then his fingers. His eyelids fluttered. And he felt his hair stand on end. Then his heart began to beat erratically, stuttering, almost stopping, stuttering again.
Was he even still holding on to the Stone? He couldn't feel it in his hand. He couldn't feel his hand at all. But he couldn't have dropped it, or the power would have stopped pounding through him.
Michael tried to tighten his fingers around the Stone. If he let it go now, it could destroy the plan. Had his fingers moved? Had the message made its way from his brain? He had no way of knowing.
"Need help holding it," he managed to gasp out.
He was sure no one had been able to hear him, but a moment later he felt an Isabel infusion in the blast of power. It added a delicate flavor to the energy, very faint, but distinct.
"Alex, help Trevor," Isabel cried, her voice still sounding so soft.
"Got it," Alex answered.
Michael felt the power slacken slightly. The ball of purple-green light around him grew the tiniest bit less brilliant. He could feel his bones inside him again, although they felt as insubstantial as jelly.
The power of the Stone is starting to run out, he realized. And the consciousness hadn't shattered. At least he didn't think it had. They would have to be able to feel the impact of something that cataclysmic coming at them through the hole. Wouldn't they?
The purple-green light faded some more. Michael could see the hole again. They'd battened down the museum as well as they could, but one of the display cases was spinning around in midair, getting sucked into the hole. A mobile of the universe was right behind it, planets jerking wildly on their wires.
Michael reached out and grabbed Trevor's wrist. He had complete control over his own body again, although he had to strain against the pressure of the wormhole. Instantly a connection formed between him and his brother. He could feel Alex in the connection. And Maria.
Very faintly he heard the music of their connection begin, lacking something without Max and Liz. Without Adam. But still something that Michael could feel with a physical force. He pulled in a deep breath, taking in the perfume of their combined connection scents, feeling more strength return to him.
Alex threw out an image of a runner bursting through a finish line. Michael threw the image right back at him, following it up with as much energy as he could pull out of himself. Isabel zapped it out again. Then Maria. Then Trevor. Then Alex again. Then Michael. Until there was a whole marathon of runners crashing through the tape together. United. Strong. Winners.
"On three," he shouted. "One. Two. Three." They combined the power of their connection with the fading power of the Stones, and the sound of a billion voices filled the air. The voices became the air. Became the ground under Michael's feet, the wall behind his back. Those voices became the world. Michael couldn't make out any individual words. They were all in a language he didn't understand.
But he understood the emotions. There was fear. And fury. And relief. And joy.
"Elvis has left the building," a voice said in his ear, a voice filled with warmth. It was Ray. Michael could feel Ray's aura briefly blending with his, although he couldn't see it, in a final good-bye.
Then two new auras wrapped themselves around Michaels. There was no anger in them. And although he could feel a trace of sorrow, the overwhelming emotion that filled Michael was love-of being loved by these two beings he'd never met.
"Our parents," Trevor said. But Michael would have known that even if Trevor hadn't spoken. Michael wanted to soak up every bit of this feeling, keep it with him forever. He closed his eyes and realized there were tears on his lashes.
"Don't go," he whispered when he felt the two auras begin to slip away from his. He heard a few of the strange words in his ears, felt the love intensify until he felt like a little bit of it had been burned into his heart. Then the auras were gone. Another good-bye.
Michael's eyes snapped open as a thought exploded into his brain. Where was Max? Oh, God, where was Max? Was Michael going to feel his aura next? Was that going to be the last good-bye?
***
Liz stretched out on top of Max, pinning his body to the floor with hers so they wouldn't be sucked into the wormhole in the kitchen. She stared down at his face through the whipping curtain of her long hair. His blue eyes were still empty. Nothing she'd tried had gotten even a flicker of response from him.
She pressed her lips down on his slack mouth, kissing him as deeply and passionately as she could. Again there was no response.
"Max, please. Come back to me," she begged. "I love you so much, I don't even have the words to explain it. No one has invented the words for the way I love you. It would have to be some kind of chemical formula that would take a million blackboards or something."
Liz kissed him again. Then her mouth slipped. Her chin hit the floor. So did her body. Max-Max had disappeared, his molecules disbursing so quickly, Liz hadn't even been aware of it happening.
"Max," she cried. "Oh, Max, no!" She lifted her head and stared around the room as if she'd find him leaning up against one of the walls, smiling at her in that way that only Max had ever smiled at her, the way he never smiled at anyone but her. "Max!" she shouted again.
And in her mind his voice answered. "Even if my molecules were spread out from here to whatever galaxy my home planet is in, that wouldn't stop me. All my molecules would be like little homing pigeons. They'd all zoom to you, and then I'd re-form."
It was the voice of memory, something Max had said to her in a conversation long ago. Liz had told him his theory was romantic, but not scientific.
"But maybe that's what the love formula would be," she whispered. "Maybe love is the strongest bond between molecules, not something like shared electrons." She stretched her arms out in front of her and put her head down again, forced to keep her body flat so she wouldn't be pulled toward the hole. If she could somehow split her own body into molecules, maybe each of them could find one of Max's and bond with it
. Even if she never got her body back, she'd be with Max. There was nothing more important than that.
But she wasn't an alien. She had no powers. She couldn't break herself into molecules without help.
I've got to try, she decided. She remembered how Max had discovered he could scatter his molecules. He'd been connected to the consciousness, and the beings had been exploring his memories. He'd said he'd felt like he was dissolving, and then it happened-his body had began to disappear as the molecules flew apart.
Liz conjured up the first memory that came to her-Max healing her. She envisioned throwing the memory out into the universe, as far away from her body as she could get it. Then she remembered kissing Rosa's cool cheek as she lay in her coffin, the smell of her sister's too heavy mortuary makeup strong in Liz's nostrils. She threw that out, too.
She didn't hold back anything. She had no shame. No pride. No secrets. She flung out the memory of getting her period for the first time-standing in the shower and thinking for a minute that she had some horrible disease and that a doctor was going to have to look at her down there. She flung out the memory of lying to her mama about stealing a little toy truck from a toy store when she was four. She let go of every thought she'd had about Max, good and bad. Every fantasy she'd had about him, even the ones she could hardly believe had come out of her own mind.
Liz released the memory of Maria's kitten scratching her lip when Liz was using a piece of string to play with it. She released the raw fury at her papa that she was shocked to find still had a place in her heart.
Her body began to feel lighter. She didn't lift her head to see if anything was happening. She kept calling up the memories, then letting them go. Calling them up, letting them go. Feeling the power of gravity release her. Feeling her heart stop beating. Feeling her lungs stop taking in air.
And then blackness.
And then silvery light.