by Kevin Ryan
"Just relax, Sheriff," the blond agent said, reaching inside his suit jacket.
Before his hand got where it was going, the sheriff had his gun in his hand. "Freeze!" Sheriff Taylor said in a commanding voice.
Immediately, the agent stopped. Then something unpleasant crossed his face. It took the agent a few seconds to get himself under control, then he said, "I'm Agent Spellman of the FBI, Special Unit. I'm going to get my identification."
The sheriff nodded, keeping a steady gaze on both men. "Okay, Agent Spellman, do it very slowly and we won't have a problem."
The smile that appeared on Spellman's face seemed forced, but he nodded and slowly reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a wallet that he flipped open. Max couldn't see the inside of the wallet, but the sheriff leaned down and scanned it for a moment. He nodded, but did not put away his gun, which was still leveled directly at Agent Spellman.
"You FBI boys cracking down on vehicle safety?" the sheriff asked.
"I think even you can see this isn't about a broken tail-light. We'll take it from here," he said.
"No," Sheriff Taylor said.
"What?" Spellman said.
"1 said no. What you will do is go back to your car and get your superior on the line while 1 call for some assistance from some of my deputies. Then we'll all sort it out together," the sheriff said.
"That won't be necessary," Spellman said slowly. "We have jurisdiction."
"See, that's where you're wrong. This is my town, and I don't know you from Adam. I've never heard of the Special Unit, and I just plain don't like you, Agent Spellman."
Spellman glanced at the gun pointed at him. "Have it your way, Sheriff, but you will regret this," he said.
"I'm sure I will. Now, you and your friend run along," Sheriff Taylor said.
Spellman sneered at the sheriff, nodded to the other agent, and turned around. The sheriff watched them go for a moment, then turned toward his squad car. Suddenly, Agent Spellman jumped aside. As he did so, Max could see that he had been partially blocking the dark-haired agent, who was holding something in his hand.
Max's mind registered the device as a gun. Then he heard a pop and saw Sheriff Taylor fall to the ground.
They shot him, Max's mind supplied, but he couldn't believe it.
Max heard a sound behind him, and then he was moving without consciously willing his body to do it. He jumped out of the van and before his feet hit the ground, he had his hand out and projected a green defensive field.
Behind him he heard Michael, then he heard another pop and saw something hit his screen. It flashed brightly, and Max realized that it wasn't a bullet.
He saw the two agents standing a few yards away, both of them now holding guns. Then he immediately lowered the field, knowing that Michael would take care of the rest.
Michael did not disappoint him. His own hand raised, Michael released a blast that knocked the agents backward. For a moment, Max hoped that Michael hadn't killed the men, as he had Agent Pierce. Not for the agents' sakes, but for Michael's. Max knew his friend was still paying a heavy price for what he had done to Agent Pierce in order to save Max and the others.
Max felt a flood of relief when he saw the two agents move. They were lying on their backs, clearly dazed, but they were both shaking their heads and feeling around with their hands. That told Max that Michael had gained a lot of control over his energy.
Suddenly there was a blur of movement, and then Agent Spellman was spinning around while he was still lying on the ground. In the same movement he raised his gun, which Max could see was oddly shaped.
Again, Max reacted immediately. This time, he didn't put up the force field. Instead, he threw out pure energy and directed it at the gun in Agent Spellman's hand. There was a flash when the energy made contact with the weapon, then small pieces of metal went flying and Max had to duck when one flew past his head. He did the same with the other agent's gun, which was lying on the road a few yards away. This time, he made sure the force of the
mini-explosion took the pieces away from himself and his friends.
"Everyone okay?" he called, without taking his eyes off the two agents.
Each of his friends responded with a yes or a fine, and Max nodded, keeping his hand in the air. He was ready to act, and he wanted the agents to see that he was ready for them. Maybe that would keep them from trying anything else.
"I have the car, Max," Michael said.
"I'll check on the sheriff," Liz said.
Max nodded, not taking his eyes off the agents. It had begun to drizzle, and it was growing dark. The group needed to get moving. He heard a few pops coming from the direction of the agents' car. That was Michael, he realized. Max didn't take his eyes off the two men. A few seconds later, Michael was by his side.
"They had a radio, cell phones, and some pretty big guns. I took care of them," Michael said.
"Max, I don't think the sheriff's doing so well," Liz called.
"Watch them," Max said to Michael, and finally turned his attention away from the agents to the others who were huddled around Sheriff Taylor. "What did you do to him?" Max asked the agents, who looked at him in silence.
"Answer him!" Michael said, his hand glowing for a moment. The agents jumped when Michael shouted, and for a second, Max saw fear on their faces. "Now!" Michael shouted.
"High energy tazer dart," Agent Spellman said.
Max knelt down next to the sheriff and looked at it.
"He's breathing, but his pulse is slow and erratic. I think the tazer might have affected his heart."
Max nodded. He pulled the tazer dart out of the man's chest. Taylor didn't respond at all.
Putting both hands on the sheriff's chest, Max reached out gently with his powers. He saw the heart. It was damaged. Some of the blood flow had been cut off. The problem was compounded by the fact that there were blockages on the major arteries leading to the heart. Max knew if he didn't act immediately, Sheriff Taylor would die before help came. He didn't hesitate. Max repaired the damage to the heart quickly, then he worked on the blockages. It took some extra time, but he felt they owed the sheriff something since he had been hurt while trying to help them. Immediately, Sheriff Taylor's color began to improve and his breathing became stronger.
A few seconds more and the sheriff blinked his eyes and started to come around. Acting quickly, Max put a hand on the man's forehead and put him to sleep for a little while. They had enough problems without dealing with the sheriff's questions right now.
Agent Spellman said, "What did you do to him, Max?" Max was surprised to hear the man use his name. Spellman continued: "We know who you are, Max Evans. You and your friends." Spellman looked at each of the others in turn and said, "Michael, Isabel, Kyle, Liz, and Maria. We know all of you."
These men were with the Special Unit. They wanted to take him and the others into the White Room to ask their questions and do their tests. Max had hoped that the Special Unit had been destroyed when Tess blew up the air
force base. Either some members of the unit had survived, or it had been reformed quickly. "Leave us alone," Max said, keeping his voice steady with effort.
"Can't do that," Spellman said. "What did you do to him, Max?" he repeated.
Max felt anger rise up in him. "I saved his life. You nearly killed him."
"That doesn't win you any points with us, Max," Spellman said, a sneer on his face.
It was then Max noticed that Spellman was bleeding from one cheek. There was a gash running under one eye. Max guessed it was from when he had blown up the agent's gun in his hand. "I just want you to leave us alone," Max said.
"That will never happen," Spellman said.
Then there was a sudden burst of energy as Michael hurled a blast at the street next to the agents. The men ducked in surprise but quickly recovered.
"You can kill us, Evans, but we'll be replaced tomorrow and then the Unit will find you… sooner or later. You can't hide forever."
&nbs
p; "Let me have them," Michael said. "Let me suck out their brains."
Max saw something in his friend's eyes and decided to play along. "It will just draw more attention to us," he said.
Michael showed the disappointment on his face. "But we haven't eaten properly in so long." Max found that he couldn't help smiling. Michael smiled back, and Max was grateful for the thousandth time that when his mother had sent him to Earth, she had sent Michael with him.
"This may be a joke to you, Evans, but there are forces within the United States government that take your alien agenda very seriously," Spellman said.
"We don't have an agenda. We just want you to leave us alone," Max said.
"If you have nothing to hide, then you can come back with us and we'll clear this up right away. We'll finish your interview, Max. Then we'll start on your friends. I think we'll save your girlfriend for last," Spellman said.
Something in Max snapped, and he was moving toward the agent. For a moment he didn't know what he was going to do. There was no room for planning when images of the White Room filled his head. He found there was something that frightened him more than going back to the White Room himself: It was Liz going there.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and jerked for a moment until he saw that it was Michael next to him. "We've got to get out of here, Max," Michael said.
"What will your friends in the other SUV do now?" Max asked.
Spellman answered, "They pulled back when they saw us engage you. When we don't answer the phone, they will assume we were lost. They will call for more agents, a lot more agents. So go ahead and kill us, Max. Kill us and run. You won't get far."
"Take your jackets off, slowly," Max said. The agents complied, and Max saw the guns strapped to their chests as well as the phones on their belts. "Throw the cell phones and guns down very slowly," he added. The men did as he said as Max kept his hand up, ready to respond if they tried anything.
"Pants, too," Michael said. Both the agents and Max looked at Michael in surprise. Michael ignored the looks and said, "Pants, now!"
The two men took off their pants and revealed ankle holsters, which also held small revolvers.
"Throw them on the pile, and step back," Michael said.
Max ran his hand over the pile and melted the guns and phones into a single, useless mass.
"Very impressive, Max. We know all about what you can do, you know," Spellman said.
"Then there's just one more thing you need to know," Max said. "We don't want trouble. We don't want to hurt anyone, but we will protect ourselves. Go back and tell them that."
Agent Spellman looked at him for a long moment and then said, "There's one thing you need to know, Max. You have other enemies and other people watching you. The Unit got a call telling us where to look for you."
"Who is it?" Michael shouted into Spellman's face.
"I don't know," Spellman said, sneering.
"Get out of here," Max said. He gestured the way they had come. "It's a long walk to town, but you might be able to flag down a ride."
"You're just going to let us walk away?" Spellman said.
"Tell them what I told you," Max said.
"It won't make any difference," Spellman said.
"Just tell them," Max said.
Spellman and his companion reached down for their clothes.
"No," Michael said. "Leave the pants and the jacket."
"What?" Spellman said.
"I said leave them," Michael said. Then he kicked the clothing into a pile and destroyed it with a burst of energy. Max was glad there was no traffic on the road. Things would have been much harder for them if there had been witnesses to call in their clearly suspicious activity.
"Why?" Spellman said.
"Because I don't like your attitude. And because we were having a real nice drive until you and Mr. Giggles here crashed the party," Michael said.
"Start walking," Max said.
"This isn't over, Max," Spellman said.
Michael stepped forward. "Okay, shirts off now!"
The agents jumped and stared blankly at him.
"Now!" Michael repeated. "Do it or I'll melt you into paste." He held up his hand threateningly.
"I would do what he says. He can be… unpredictable when he's angry," Max said.
Reluctantly, the men took off their ties and white shirts. Now they were left with only their shorts and undershirts.
Max found himself smiling, and saw that Michael was as well. "I'm glad you think this is funny, but when… "
"Shut up!" Michael said. "You just don't get it. Now take off the T-shirts."
The agents complied, and Michael said, "Another word and you know what will happen."
With that, the two men, wearing only their underwear, turned and headed back the way they had come.
Liz watched as Max and Michael quickly put the sheriff in the squad car. They sat him up in the seat, reclining it as much as possible.
"Are we just going to leave him?" Maria asked.
"We don't have a choice," Michael said. "It's pretty warm… he'll be okay until he wakes up."
"That will be in maybe an hour. That means we'll be lucky to have that much head start," Max said.
"We could smash the radio, do something to the car to give us more time," Liz suggested.
"No," Max said, shaking his head. "What's the point? The Special Unit will be onto us long before he wakes up."
Liz marveled at Max. He had just saved that man's life despite the fact that as soon as he woke up he would probably start a massive police search for them. Max just accepted it and moved forward. And the next time the same thing happened, he would do it again… heal a person who might destroy him.
Of course, that would only happen if they got away this
time. They would have both the Special Unit and the local police scouring the area for them for some time now.
Once the sheriff was set and Michael had changed their license plate number, the group got into the van. And not a moment too soon: Almost as soon as Liz closed her door, the rain started to really come down. Watching the rain, Liz suddenly remembered her premonition. It was raining there, too. Liz felt a chill run down her spine at the memory.
It didn't look good for them, she realized. The rain meant it would be harder to put much distance between themselves and this place now.
The only consolation was that the people after them would have the same handicap. The difference was that they could afford to make a mistake. More than ever, Liz was sure that her life and the lives of her friends depended on avoiding their enemies.
"Like Tom Joad: Doing good deeds and avoiding the law," Liz thought. She had said that when they had decided to leave Roswell. It had started when she and Max had used their powers to save that woman who was about to be killed by the mugger in the alley by the Crashdown Cafe.
Liz had believed it was possible for them to do that, to be like Tom Joad. She had known the life would be dangerous, but living in Roswell had been dangerous. The thought of making a difference had sustained her when she had decided to leave everything she had ever known… her family, her home… and the certain future of college and a good career.
And in the less than two weeks since they had left, they had made a difference to some. They had helped the people in Stonewall, and Max had just helped the sheriff. But they
had been on the road for less than two weeks. Would that be all the time they would get, before the Special Unit got them? And even if they avoided the law forever, Liz's visions had told her that they would all die in a final battle with an alien menace that would take them one by one, and then take Max last.
Once, Max had come from the future to warn her of what would come. He had told her to stay away from him so that Tess would stay and help in that fight. A lot had happened since then, and now Tess was dead. And Liz knew that fight would still come.
In spite of all the moments of hope and happiness she had found with Max and her friends s
ince this trip had begun, Liz felt hopelessness wash over her. She looked at Max and saw none of that feeling on his face. It was raining hard and was getting difficult to see in the fading light, but he had nothing but determination on his face.
That sight lifted her spirits slightly. Maybe there was a way. And if there was, Max would find it.
"Maxwell, we have to get off this road," Michael said.
"I know," Max said, scanning the road ahead of them.
Liz could see the problem, though. They were in a remote forest road. There had not been an exit or turnoff for miles. It might be many more miles before they saw another one. As it was, it would be painfully easy to track them.
The Special Unit agents would know their direction and would have maps of the area. They would also be able to call helicopters. It would not take them long to find a single van on a nearly empty road at night.
Then something caught her eye as they passed. "There," she said, pointing. "Max, stop."
Without hesitating, Max pulled over. "What?" Michael said.
"Just back up," Liz said, and Max did so.
"Stop," Liz said when they reached the road she had seen. Actually, road was a strong word for it… it was more like a path, covered by years of leaves and brush. Liz had to struggle to see in the fading light, but she could see that although it was narrow, it was paved.
"What is it?" Kyle asked.
"Some kind of road. Maybe an old logging road," Max said.
"It looks like it hasn't been used in years. It could be blocked, washed out… who knows?" Michael said.
"If we stay on the main road, they'll have us in a couple of hours at most," Liz said.
"What's the word, Maxwell?" Michael asked.
"I say we try it," Max answered.
"That's it, then," Michael said.
"No," Max said. "I won't make this decision for all of us."
"We don't have a lot of time here, Max," Michael said.
"We vote first," Max said, his voice firm. He turned to Liz and said, "What do you say?"
"We have to get off the highway," she said.
"I'm with you," Michael said. Then he turned to the back and said, "What about the rest of you?"