by Andy Mangels
He glanced toward Ava, who had placed a hand against her temple and closed her eyes. "Tell them to take a number. We've got more company." "Who?" Rath asked.
At that moment, a large windowpane over their heads shattered as two metal canisters arced into the warehouse on trails of thick, black smoke that swiftly began filling the room.
" New York 's finest," said Ava.
Great. Just great, Rath thought as his chest tightened; and a painful coughing fit seized him.
4 Cheyenne, Wyoming
In simpler times, Kyle Valenti had the high school hero mantle practically bestowed upon him. He had excelled in football and other sports, and had a smart and pretty girlfriend in Liz Parker. If he ever got into typical teenage trouble, the worst he could expect from his father, the town sheriff, was to be grounded.
And then Max Evans had made a connection with Liz one day at the Crashdown, and Kyle's world began to crumble around him. Soon, not only was Liz infatuated with Max, but so, in a manner of speaking, was Kyle's father. Sheriff Valenti suspected something of Max and his friends, but he didn't really articulate his suspicions to his son. In fact, his bond with his son grew more and more strained with each passing day.
Kyle grew to resent Max Evans, so it was quite a surprise that Max ended up saving Kyle's life. Agent Pierce, a thug for some secret government agency, had exchanged gunfire with Sheriff Valenti at the UFO Museum. During the brief gun battle, Kyle was accidentally hit by a bullet fired by his own father.
Even now, Kyle would sometimes wake up at night feeling the bullet tear into his flesh, penetrating skin and bone and muscle. His mouth filled with a pungent metallic taste, Kyle remembered the darkness in the museum creeping inexorably toward him. But Max's approach banished the encroaching darkness. He had laid his glowing, silver-palmed hand on Kyle's wound, healing him instantly.
Since that time, Kyle had joined Liz and Maria among the ranks of the "I Know an Alien" club, and subsequently had been caught up in many of the misadventures and tribulations the half-extraterrestrial teens faced. Interestingly enough, the shared knowledge of the aliens among them had brought Kyle and his father closer together. Kyle sometimes thought it was actually his momentary brush with mortality that had done the trick, but he knew better; his dad had been obsessed with aliens and UFOs for as long as Kyle could remember. It was an obsession he had inherited from his father. Now, they were among the few people alive who knew the real truth of the matter.
After his resurrection at the hands of Max, Kyle had found Buddhism, and had learned… mostly… to find a more centered space in the universe. He had found that the Buddha's "Four Noble Truths" were tremendously apt for him, as well as for his alien friends: life means suffering; suffering has a cause; the cause of our suffering can be ended; and suffering can be ended by following a path to wisdom, peace, meditation, and growth.
But it was hard for Kyle to stay centered when the cause of the suffering in the last few months had been fear of capture by the government. Indeed, at times it had seemed as though the best path to end the cause of his suffering was to fight back. But the Noble Eightfold Path pushed him toward peace, and taught him not to bring harm to others. On the other hand, the tenets of the Path also talked about not lying or stealing, and he and the others had done their share of both lately, in the interests of survival.
Since leaving Roswell, he had again been healed by Max, and Kyle now wondered if these healings weren't bringing about some form of transformation within him. During his late-night meditations, when the others were usually asleep, another thought kept creeping unbidden into the Zen garden he strove to make of his mind. Haw I been made into something other than what I was before all oj this started? Am I now part alien, like Liz? And ij that's what's happened, then what will my purpose be? Today, Kyle had little time for such internal debates. He stood in the Cybernet Cafe in an open-air mall in Cheyenne, Wyoming, teetering on the brink of mote potential suffering and confrontation. Coming toward him and his friends from the front of the cafe were government agents and police. More cops and government spooks were also likely closing in from other directions… including, no doubt, the section of the mall toward which Max and Michael had just headed moments ago.
Kyle whirled and looked toward the back of the room. He saw a pay phone and a rest room sign, but no door. There's got to be an exit back there, he reassured himself.
He turned to Maria, who stood saucer-eyed as the cops and feds continued their approach. Liz was looking toward the back of the shop. "Find the back door," Kyle said, surprised at how firm his voice sounded. "I'm guessing from the layout of this place that it leads to a service corridor. “
"Already on it," Liz said. "Let's go." Kyle shook his head. "You three go. I'm heading out the front to try to warn Max and Michael. “
Liz opened her mouth to argue, but Maria yanked her by the arm and pulled her to the back of the cafe.
As Kyle opened the glass door to exit out the front, he saw Isabel touching the adjacent windows and doors. Immediately they changed color, an inky black spreading like a viscous liquid across the clear panes. Camouflage, Kyle thought. Smart thinking. Sure, it would likely draw attention, but so would the onrushing peace officers.
He knew Isabel probably would have fused the door locks before exiting through the same back way that Liz and Maria were taking. He also knew he didn't have long to think about it; their pursuers were already less than twenty yards away, and closing fast.
Spotting his opportunity, Kyle moved across the balcony aisle and grappled with a giant garbage can there. It was one of the round, concrete types, with a metal container nestled inside it. There was no way he could pick it up. But he could tip it over and roll it. As he strained to topple the trash bin, he saw that the police had closed their distance by half. He concentrated so thoroughly on his task that they seemed to be moving in slow motion. He could hear them yelling to him, but he blocked them out as he might have done with any small distraction during his meditations; they might as well have been speaking a foreign language.
With a final shove, he sent the garbage rolling straight at the cops. Before it could even reach them, he sprinted toward the food court. He caught sight of Max and Michael across the courtyard, and saw that they finally seemed to have noticed what was going on. As they raced away from the tacqueria and toward the cafe, Kyle saw still more pursuers coming up one of the escalators, and pointed toward them to alert Max and Michael.
But it may already have been too late. Two agents and a cop had their guns drawn, and they pointed them straight at the young pair, yelling for them to get down on the ground. Max and Michael put their hands forward, palms out, fingers flexed, and Kyle saw a familiar glow of energy. Kyle knew that for them to use their powers this publicly, they had to be as panicked as he was.
A wave of power thrust forward from within both of them, blasting their attackers over the side railing and onto the mall's lower level. Flailing, two of their pursuers landed in a decorative fountain. The remaining one wasn't so lucky, instead hitting a plastic "bench, which shattered on impact.
Kyle ran toward Max and Michael. "Where's Liz?" Max asked, his eyes wild.
"I'm pretty sure they all got out into the service corridor through the back of the cafe," Kyle said, keeping his voice low.
Michael used his powers to blow another pair of government men off their feet, sending them crashing back onto the escalator. "They better have gotten out. You should have stayed with them. “
"Somebody had to get out here and warn you," Kyle said.
Amidst the screaming from terrified mall patrons, an amplified voice echoed from the halls. "Drop your weapons and put your hands up!" Kyle saw agents trying to get the door to the Cybernet Cafe open, but they were cautious; because of the blackened glass, they had no way of knowing what might await them inside.
Max grinned, looking almost malicious. "What'll it be… hands up or weapons down?" he asked. "Can't do both. “
Kyle grinned at Max, whose hands were his weapons. Pointing toward a nearby trendy clothing store, Max said, "In there." The front of the establishment was all windows, with fancily dressed mannequins aplenty set in various poses.
The three fugitives ducked into the store, even as clerks and customers dove for cover, some whimpering in fear. "Everybody keep your heads down," Max yelled. "We won't hurt you, but the guys chasing us just might! “
Hiding behind a rack of overpriced sweatshirts, Kyle saw that the police and government agents now stood just outside the clothing store. All the bystanders were out of sight. Though the cops seemed to be debating strategy, Kyle was willing to bet that they couldn't be prepared for what was coming next.
Standing behind the clothing rack near Kyle, Max and Michael put their shoulders together, extended their arms and hands, and unleashed a powerful wave of force. The glass windows at the front of the store exploded, and mannequins, sweaters, pants, and platform boots went flying outward.
Kyle breathed a quiet sigh of relief that the explosive wave only hit their pursuers; none of the customers in the store appeared to have been hurt.
"Let's go," Max said, turning. Kyle could see that sweat had beaded on his friend's forehead. Kyle followed him and Michael toward the employee stockroom in the back of the store, praying it would lead to the same service corridor where Liz, Maria, and Isabel were supposed to have headed.
"Which way?" Maria asked, her voice a plaintive wail.
Liz looked down the hall in both directions, then came to a decision. "That way," she said, pointing to their left. "There's an exit sign. “
Liz was relieved to see Isabel finally come scooting out of the doorway right behind her and Maria.
"Did Kyle make it to Max and Michael?" Liz asked Isabel, feeling a tight knot of fear slowly expanding in her belly.
"I don't know," Isabel said. "By the time I was through making my barricade, I couldn't see out any better than the bad guys could see in. “
"We've got to get to the van either way," Maria said, pulling Liz's arm. "If it isn't already surrounded by MiBs. “
The three girls had run about fifty feet down the corridor, their footfalls echoing like gunshots, when a pair of side doors opened almost immediately in front of them. Two burly agents in dark suits entered the corridor and rushed them. Liz heard a sharp crackle of electricity as the trio collided with the agents, then saw Maria and Isabel falling to the floor like marionettes with their strings cut.
Liz jumped over the body of Maria as it fell, staying just out of the reach of the agent who carried the taser. As the other man knelt to check on the two fallen girls, the taser-toting agent continued to advance on Liz.
"Get down on the ground!" he yelled, pulling his gun with his free hand for emphasis.
Liz's mind whirled. She could run, but he might shoot her. And if he does, what if Max doesn't manage to save me this time? For all she knew, all the others might have already been captured… or worse.
"Get down on the ground!" he yelled again, his gun now leveled directly at her.
Slowly, as if in a dream-state, Liz Parker began to kneel on the cold, unyielding concrete floor.
Isabel moved languidly on the silken sheets, extracting her limbs and stretching. No, not Isabel. Vilandra. Her long, tapered gray fingers were exquisitely formed, fit for royalty, fit for worship.
A pleasant-smelling wind blew in from over the black vastness of the sea, and the room was faintly illuminated by the glow of teke orbs, as well as from the trio of moons that were set like jewels into the dark, cloud-strewn sky. Vilandra tilted her head back and viewed them through the rain-sprinkled skylight. The wet, colored glass fractured the moons' perfect spherical shapes, but somehow augmented their natural beauty.
She heard a sound from the antechamber, then saw a figure illuminated from behind. It was N'Kolus, and he had replaced some of his garments, apparently while she'd dozed.
"You should get some rest," she said to him, low and seductive. "You don't want to be too tired for tomorrow. “
He sat on the bed next to her and caressed her hand with his own. She could see her beautiful reflection in his large, dark eyes. "You have already tired me," he said. "But tomorrow will bring with it a new dawn. “
He leaned over to kiss her, and Vilandra lost herself in the passionate moment with the handsome soldier.
She heard another sound, and she broke their embrace with a start. Another figure was standing in the entrance, holding a chalice before him. "I see I'm interrupting," the person said, and Vilandra recognized the voice as Kivar's.
Vilandra looked toward N'Kolus, who seemed to take Kivar's surprise entrance in stride. "Kivar, I didn't expect you so soon," she said.
"My other engagements this evening are finished," he said, doffing a wet cloak and letting it slip to the ground. "Everything went according to my plans. “
He sat on the edge of the bed and offered her the chalice. "Don't be alarmed, my beautiful Vilandra. I knew of your affair with N'Kolus, and gave him my blessing to continue. Anything to make you happy. “
Vilandra drank deeply from the cup, and smiled at her two lovers. "What will make me happy is for peace to come tomorrow. The truce you promised will lead toward that goal. “
"Yes," Kivar said. "And thank you for allowing us to enter the city unopposed, my exquisite Vilandra. “
"My brother won't approve, but he acts too slowly sometimes," Vilandra said. She was about to say something else, but she found her thoughts were becoming unclear.
"Your brother is past caring what you do, lovely one," Kivar said, caressing her cheek with his hand. "As is Rath. “
Vilandra was about to ask Kivar what he meant, but she wasn't able to speak. She felt weighed down, and as she looked at the two men who had been her lovers, she saw them as if from a distance. Above them, the colors of the skylight became more and more diffuse, and even the ever-constant moons of Antar seemed to dim.
And then, the hues of skylight faded to darkness, and Vilandra was no more.
An eternity of darkness seemed to pass before another voice impinged on her mind. "Isabel? “
With a great effort, Isabel lifted her head. Crouched next to her was Alex Whitman, looking just as he always had: comfortable.
"Isabel, you need to wake up," Alex said. "Lemme sleep," Isabel said, her words thick and slurred. "I'm tired of running. “
"I know, but you have to keep running," Alex said. "Things are going to get worse, and you must try to help." He didn't touch her, but rather hovered nearby, his words soft and gentle in her ear. Alex had always been so pleasant and plain and safe. How can he be talking about danger? Isabel struggled to marshal her energies enough to sit up, but discovered that her limbs were twitching spasmodically, as if she were being electrocuted.
"They need you, Isabel," he said, his face showing concern.
"Who does?" she asked groggily.
"All of them," Alex responded. "Your friends. Your family. Your husband. “
"That was pretty wild," Kyle said as he followed Max and Michael out into the service corridor. It was clear to Kyle that Max was beside himself with worry, and hoped his own Zen-like calm would rub off on him.
Michael, however, seemed way past the reach of any Buddhist vision of tranquillity; he was obviously ready to go to war.
Quickly scanning the corridor, Kyle saw that it was empty in both directions, except for some flattened cardboard boxes lying along one of the walls, next to a few-scattered bags of trash and packing foam. He pointed down to their left, where the corridor angled around a corner. "That's the direction the girls would have come from. “
"We've got to see if they made it," Michael said, already dashing for the corner. Kyle wondered if Max felt relieved when his friend took the lead at times like this. He was certainly glad that he wasn't the one who had to make all the decisions for the group.
Max and Kyle followed immediately behind Michael, both sparing brief gla
nces over their shoulders to look for pursuers. A moment later the trio rounded the corner.
They saw the girls, along with a pair of federal agents. Isabel and Maria lay unmoving on the concrete floor; while one agent was putting handcuffs on Liz from behind, another agent kept a powerful-looking gun trained on her.
Kyle turned toward Max and Michael and saw that they were both extending their hands forward, obviously about to unleash their powers.
Suddenly the agent who held his gun on Liz turned and shouted to them. "These girls are alive for now, but if you make any threatening gestures, I can't guarantee they'll stay that way. “
"What do we do?" Kyle asked, putting his hand on Max's shoulder.
Suddenly everything changed.
Kyle was seeing the corridor from a different angle, and as he turned his head, he saw himself looking back… at himself. "Max, what do we do?" other-Kyle asked, even as the very same words were leaving his own lips… Then he was in the clothing store, watching himself sweep fragments of shattered glass from his fuzzy purple sweater top; he noticed that one of his long, lacquered nails had broken during the explosion… Next he was looking down at Liz's hands as he knelt over her and fastened the handcuffs around her wrists… A heartbeat later he was looking down his arm at the gun in his hand as he pointed it at the frightened trio of teenage boys, one of whom was him, Kyle Valenti… And then he found himself in utter darkness. He crawled forward along an unyielding surface toward a dazzling light that made him squint. The brilliance quickly resolved itself into Isabel, who lay on the service corridor's hard floor; she looked beautiful as always, yet disturbingly lifeless.
A nearby movement caught his eye, and he turned to see a shape emerge from the surrounding darkness. It was Alex Whitman. Who had been dead now for nearly two years.
"Alex?" Kyle asked, incredulous.
Alex tilted his head and looked at him strangely, almost as though he were having trouble recognizing him. "Your voice sounds like Max's, Kyle. “
"What's going on?" Kyle needed to know.