Dreamwalk r-3

by Paul Ruoitis

  Dreamwalk

  ( Roswell’’ - 3 )

  Paul Ruoitis

  TV Series Placement: Summer 2001 – Post-Season 2You can run, but you can't hide.Night after night Kyle is haunted by nightmares of Alex's death. He begs Isabel to help by dreamwalking him and removing the images from his mind. Isabel knows that's not how her powers work, but Kyle is relentless and she finally agrees. The disturbing images she encounters in Kyle's subconscious are almost too much to bear, but when she tries to exit his mind, she finds herself trapped in a maze of guilt -- while back in the conscious world, Kyle is unable to wake her. Meanwhile Liz invites Max to babysit with her. She wants to give him a chance to train for the day when he finds his own son. But watching this troubled child turns out to be not just another day in the park, and before they know it, Liz and Max are in way over their heads….

  Paul Ruoitis

  Dreamwalk

  (Roswell’’-03)

  From the television series developed by Jason Katims.

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property It was reported as «unsold and destroyed» to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this «stripped book.»

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First Simon Pulse edition January 2003

  ™ and © 2003 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation, Regency Entertainment (USA) Inc. and Monarchy Enterprises B.V

  All rights reserved SIMON PULSE

  An imprint of Simon Schuster Children's Publishing Division 1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  Printed in the United States of America 10 987654321

  Library of Congress Control Number 2002107315 ISBN 0-689-85518-4

  PROLOGUE

  Knifing through the desert for mile after mile he passed nothing but desolate land. An open road lay out before him and miles of road behind. Looking back, he saw nothing but knew they were there. He wasn't sure if he was running away from something or heading toward it, but he knew for certain that he did not have much time.

  You did this to me. You sent me to Las Cruces.

  He was not alone. True, the voices in his mind accompanied him wherever he was going, but there was something else… someone else. The additional presence was both calming and disturbing at the same time.

  But the voices… they were there too… always.

  Alex, Alex, let me fix your mind. You're not thinking straight.

  The car pulled to the side of the road. The sun beat down and reflected off mile marker forty-seven, burning into his eyes. Stepping out of the passenger side onto the parched desert land, he waited in the searing heat.

  You mindwarped me for two months… now there's nothing left… You destroyed my mind!

  A pair of vultures circled overhead. Their meandering course persisted on above. His eyes were drawn to watch them, though he wanted to look away. It was only a matter of time before they attacked. He knew that for certain. The attack always came. But he did not fear for his own safety. They only fought each other.

  Kyle get out. Kyle go!

  He was back in his bedroom, encircled by the wood paneling he had tried to cover with posters of heroes in his youth. Heroes he had often hoped would come in and save him from his life. Heroes he now knew did not have the power for the kind of rescue he required.

  I have nothing. I might as well be dead!

  The voices persisted as shadows danced around him. First looming indistinct ghosts of a past long gone, followed by more recent wraiths who began to find flesh and form. First she appeared, looking so harmless, yet hiding within her an unimaginable evil. Then he emerged, the helpless innocent fearing for his own life and sanity. Fearing her.

  Calm down. Calm down!

  No, you can't mindwarp me!

  An old friend. A new enemy. Surrounding him. Trapping him. Drawing ever closer. His mind hurt. The pain was excruciating. He tried to block it out, to run from it, but he could not move.

  You can't mindwarp me… No!!! Nooooo!!!

  Kyle bolted up in his bed, sweat soaking through his T-shirt as he held tight to the covers on the unseasonably cool summer night. His eyes adjusted to the darkness as the shadows lessened and familiar forms began to take shape around his bed.

  Visually exploring the room that he had reclaimed after Tess's departure, Kyle knew that he was alone, but not entirely. Hardly a night had gone by in the past several weeks that he was not haunted by the images. What he had once forgotten, he was forced to remember, and since the day he recalled the mindwarp that Tess had performed on him, he could not escape the memory.

  He had witnessed Alex's death at Tess's hands and had unwittingly taken part in the cover-up. He'd then attended his friend's funeral unaware of his own involvement in the murder. He'd even comforted Tess and sought comfort from her as they had continued to form a familial bond like that of a brother and sister. She had been the closest friend he'd had in a long time, but eventually he discovered that it had all been a lie.

  Since the day Liz and Maria had helped him remember everything, his dreams had been full of voices of the past. The images of the horrific act plagued his mind as other, more confusing thoughts raced through his head. He saw a combination of things familiar and unusual. But, even worse, the images remained even afterward, and the voices followed him when he awoke.

  First his own voice.

  You want me to come along?

  And then hers.

  No. Go in the house. Ill take care of everything from here.

  1

  «Are you sure you want to do this?» Max asked a question he had asked often in the past two years with the same intensity he usually reserved for life-and-death situations.

  «I've come this far," Liz replied, looking unsure. «Everyone is counting on me.»

  «They'll understand," he said.

  «But I won't.» Liz stepped out of the booth, smoothing the wrinkles in her light blue dress. She had chosen the color after making the rule that no one was to wear black that night. Black was morbid. Tonight was a celebration of life. «I was so busy trying to solve Alex's murder that I never had the chance to let him go. I have to do this. Not just for Alex, but for myself.»

  Dressed in a rust-colored T-shirt with brown pants, Max watched as Liz walked through the small crowd at the Crashdown, heading for the makeshift stage they had set up in front of the counter. It was little more than a few lights and a microphone borrowed from the school AV closet, but it was going to have to do. Max thought it was great of Liz's father to forgo a night's profits and close down the cafe for the gathering of friends and family.

  The group included their own inner circle, minus Kyle, who was finishing up at his new job at the auto shop. There were also some of Alex's closer friends from school-the lucky students of West Roswell High whose main concerns in life had to do with grades and finding a date for Saturday night and not life-and-death alien encounters. Max knew most of them fairly well, but could not count them as close friends since his very nature kept him distant from anyone for fear of bringing them into his life like he had brought in Liz and her friends. And tonight was a perfect example of why that was such a horrible thing for him to do to them.

  Aside from friends, he counted many families among the participants. His own adoptive parents were there, supporting him, Isabel, and the Whitmans as they had a couple
months ago at the funeral. Maria's mom was there too, sitting at a table next to Sheriff Valenti. Even though the sheriff had lost his job helping Max, he couldn't think of the man as anything other than «sheriff.» Seeing the two single parents together, their strange, shared history of being abandoned by their spouses years ago inexplicably popped into Max's head. Ignoring the thought, Max continued scanning the room, ending with Alex's parents. He didn't even want to think about what they were going through.

  «It started four years ago," Liz spoke into the microphone. «It was during my short-lived artistic phase, before I really got into science. Alex, Maria, and I got together onthis midsummer's night to have our own private talent show. Alex and Maria played bass and guitar while they sang, and I did whatever I could to keep up with them, mostly by reciting some poetry.» She took a breath to choke back on the tears that were about to escape. «We continued the tradition every summer since, and now I invite you all to join in with us, in memory of Alex.»

  Max saw that Maria was already dabbing her eyes with a tissue. He almost laughed in spite of the somber mood, because her outfit was truly priceless. She had totally embraced Liz's color directive and was wearing a rainbow-colored sequin minidress that he had actually helped her pick out at a local thrift shop. The two of them had really bonded as friends the previous summer and still spent a lot of time together when their significant others were otherwise engaged.

  «I'd like to start off tonight with a poem that I know was very dear to Alex," Liz continued as she picked up a book left on the counter and opened it to the page still marked by a pair of concert tickets. «It's called 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.'" She looked out at the crowd at each of her friends, finally stopping on Alex's parents as she read, "'Whose woods these are I think I know.

  As Max listened, he also settled his eyes on Alex's parents and gave himself permission to try to imagine what they could possibly be feeling. To have their son taken at such a young age was something he could only partially wrap his head around. Though his own son was millions of miles from him, the Whitmans' pain was different from his own. Their suffering came after raising a childfor seventeen years only to have his life ended in a seemingly senseless accident. It made Max feel even worse to think that they would always assume that their son had taken his own life, and would never know the truth.

  He turned his full attention back to Liz, thinking how beautiful and fragile she looked under the spotlight reading from Alex's book. She had been through so much since her close friend's death, and now that Tess was finally out of the picture, Max promised himself that he would do whatever he could to make things up to her, starting with being there for her on this very important night.

  «… 'And miles to go before I sleep,'" Liz finished the poem openly crying, finally letting out all the grief she had been holding in since the day she had gotten her first clue to Alex's death.

  Max was quickly out of his seat and by her side, escorting Liz to a chair. «Alex would have liked this," he whispered.

  Liz was speechless as she sat down in the booth, her body slightly trembling.

  Polite applause filled the Crashdown as Liz's own parents looked on, openly concerned for their daughter but apparently content to know that Max was by her side.

  Alex's former band mates were next on the bill. They were setting up their equipment in the staging area to do a set in honor of their missing bass player. This would be the last time they would be performing together under the name «The Whits," and each member thought this was the appropriate time and place for such a performance.

  Alex had brought the group together sophomore year in deference to the fact that the Roswell garage band scene was rather pitiful. He was the driving force behind the band, as evidenced by the name they had settled on. Even though Maria had temporarily hijacked the group soon after their creation, Alex had always been the one in charge. As the guys began their first melancholy song of lost love, which had been written by Alex, Isabel came over to join her brother and Liz.

  «Are you sure you know your lines?» she whispered to Max as she sat in the booth. She had also taken Liz's wardrobe instructions to heart and was wearing a pale orange dress to fit in with the «celebration of life» theme of the evening.

  «Yes, Isabel," Max said, for the tenth time since having agreed to perform the skit with her. «I'm sure I know my lines.»

  «I just don't want you to freeze up in the middle," she explained.

  «Relax," he calmly replied. «We'll be fine.»

  «Do you want to go rehearse again in the back?» she asked, getting up before he could answer.

  Liz looked to Max, begging him with her eyes not to leave her alone right now. He reached to his side and took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze to let her know that he wouldn't be going anywhere.

  With his other hand, Max grabbed his sister by the arm and lightly tugged her back down into the booth across from him. «We've rehearsed it a hundred times. It's going to be fine. Stay here and enjoy the music.»

  «I just…» She had a catch in her throat.

  «I know.»

  As Max held on to Liz with his hand, he locked eyes with his sister, letting her know that he was there for her, too. Silently, Max provided the necessary support for the two girls who, in addition to Maria, were probably closer to Alex than any other students at West Roswell High.

  All three of them fought back tears as the mournful tune filled the Crashdown. It even looked to Max like the band was about to lose it at any moment. Somehow, this «celebration of life," had gotten off to a rather depressing start. But Max wasn't quite sure how to go about turning things around.

  «This is ridiculous," Liz said from out of nowhere. «This is supposed to be a joyous occasion.»

  «Well, Liz, you're the one setting the tone," Max gently reminded her, still providing her the strength she would need to take charge of the event.

  «Exactly," she stood and crossed over to the lead guitarist, Mickey, as the band finished their heavyhearted tune. Max watched as she whispered something into Mickey's ear that immediately made his face light up and his head nod vigorously. As Liz returned to the table, Max watched as the guitarist relayed the message to the rest of the band. Each member looked more pleased than the next as they readied their instruments.

  «Ladies and gentlemen," Mickey addressed the crowd, «we've had a special request.» He bowed his head toward Liz in gratitude.

  «Let's dance," Liz said as she pulled Max from his seat.

  On cue, the band started up again, and Max recognized another one of their tunes. This time, however, the song was much faster. Taking their lead, Maria got up in her shimmering rainbow outfit and hopped up to the microphone,

  letting loose on the song that she remembered from her days fronting the band. Soon the whole place was rocking and everyone was out of their seats, including Alex's mom, who was dancing with Sheriff Valenti. There was, however, one person who was still in his chair.

  «I don't think Mr. Whitman dances," Max said as he nodded his head in the direction of Alex's father while keeping the beat.

  «Oh, you'd be surprised," Liz said with a laugh. «You should have seen him when he chaperoned the sixth-grade dance. He taught me some moves I'd never seen before or have been able to do since. Will you excuse me?»

  Max nodded politely as Liz left him to go to Mr. Whitman. At first, Alex's father was reluctant to join in the festivities, but Liz flashed the charming smile that Max knew from personal experience no man could resist, no matter what his age or marital status.

  Soon enough, Mr. Whitman was up on the dance floor. Feeling awkward as the only one on the dance floor standing alone, Max noticed there was one other person in the diner who was not dancing, and went back to the kitchen to join him.

  «Are you going to watch from back here all night, Michael?» Max asked as he stepped into the kitchen.

  «It's the safest place to be in case Maria makes a scene," Michael replied as he te
nded to the grill.

  «You should go easy on her," Max said, leaning against the counter. «This has got to be difficult.»

  «Which is exactly why I'm staying in the kitchen," Michael replied.

  Max honestly wanted to delve into the latest drama in the Michael/Maria relationship, but he didn't think he had enough energy left. Providing emotional support for Liz and Isabel was draining enough for Max, especially considering that he still blamed himself for Alex's death.

  In the past months, dozens of «what ifs» had gone through his head as he'd tried to figure out a way he could have changed events so things wouldn't have turned out the way they had. But Max knew he could not alter the past as much as he knew that he could not tell what the future had in store for him and his friends. There was so much on Max's mind as he watched the party through the kitchen's service window that he almost couldn't concentrate on any one thing at all.

  «You and Liz okay now?» Michael asked when he noticed the direction in which Max's gaze was fixed.

  «Oh, sure," Max replied, keeping his eyes locked onto the dance floor. «We're closer than we've been in a long time.»

  «So what's with the look?» Michael persisted.

  «It's Mr. Whitman," Max said as he caught an actual expression of happiness creep onto the face of Alex's dad for the first time that evening. Mr. Whitman was lifting Liz up into the air, doing some amazing moves that Max had only seen in movies. «I don't know how he does it.»

  «Does what?» Michael asked. «Dance?»

  Max had to chuckle in spite of his mood. Michael always appeared to miss the subtleties of life, which often proved to be a sore point in his relationship with Maria, but Max knew that his friend caught on to things far more often than he showed. «I don't know how he goes on with his life," Max explained. «He raised Alex, and now his son is gone. How does a father cope with it?»