by Melinda Metz
Large splotches of anger appeared in her aura along with dark streaks of sadness.
Adam was pretty sure he knew the source of the sadness. It had just hit Liz again how un-Max-like Max had become. She still loved him. Even though he could see that most of the time Liz hated to be in the same room with Max, she still loved him with every molecule in her body. He wondered if she realized that.
And you just have to suck it up, he told himself, using another Michael expression. It was insane to think the mole boy could ever have a girl like Liz, anyway.
"What do you think Michael and Isabel-" Adam was interrupted by a loud knock on the door that made Liz jump slightly. Adam opened it to find Kyle Valenti standing on the staircase that led up from the museum parking lot. Kyle strode in without waiting to be asked.
"I need to know where DuPris is," Kyle announced, hands on hips. He was out of breath, and his face appeared red from exertion. "Once I know where he is, I can handle him, but I don't know how to track him."
"Kyle, go home," Liz said firmly. "And don't even think about going after DuPris. He is more dangerous than-"
"He killed my father," Kyle shouted, his hands fisted by his sides. "I can't just do nothing. Don't you get that? Now tell me where he is."
"We don't know," Liz answered. Adam was glad she was there to do the talking. Kyle was more than a little bit intimidating.
"You don't know," Kyle repeated, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, look out the window, and maybe you'll see something that will help you remember."
Liz rushed to the window, and Adam followed right behind her. Down in the parking lot were a cluster of people, two of them with video cameras.
"Reporters," Liz said.
"That's right, brainiac," Kyle answered, sounding smug. "If you don't tell me where DuPris is, then I'm going to go back down there and tell them all about your friends." He jerked his thumb at Adam. "Starting with that one. I'm sure they'll have a lot of questions for him."
If Michael was here, he'd know what to do. He'd find a way to make Kyle back down. But all Adam could think about was that as soon as the reporters knew where he was, he'd end up back underground somewhere-and the thought paralyzed him.
"You know what? Adam was just saying how he wished he could get on TV," Liz told Kyle.
She reached out and took Adam's hand, but he barely felt it. Usually it would be all he could feel if Liz touched him, but at the moment he was numb.
"Come on, Adam," Liz continued. "Let's go make you a star. I bet we can even get you some endorsement gigs. Maybe one for a fancy toaster or something."
She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze that brought him slightly back to earth.
"Sure. Let's go," Adam managed to say. The reporters terrified him, but he trusted Liz.
"You're bluffing," Kyle said.
Liz didn't reply. She just headed for the door. Adam didn't try to pull away. He let her lead him outside and down the staircase and even got his lips to approximate a smile as the cameras swung toward him.
"The guy's one of the ones I told you about," Kyle yelled from behind them. "He's an alien. And there are three more that I know about. Their names are-"
"You're all from Albuquerque, right?" Liz interrupted.
She knows what she's doing, Adam told himself. Don't freak. Do not freak in front of the reporters. It will only make them suspicious. But all he really wanted to do was run as fast as his human legs would carry him.
"That's right," one of the reporters answered.
"I knew you weren't from Roswell. Everyone in Roswell knows-" She hesitated, shooting a look at Kyle.
"Knows what?" the same reporter asked.
"She's going to give you some load of bull," Kyle warned.
Liz leaned closer to the reporter she'd started the exchange with. "That's Kyle Valenti. Valenti. Ring a bell? He's the son of the man who used to be sheriff."
"The one who disappeared," the reporter finished, eyes wide.
"Exactly," Liz continued somberly. "Kyle thinks an alien killed his father." She lowered her voice. "It's very sad. He's gone through so much."
"What?" Kyle yelled, storming toward the little crowd. "What did she say to you?"
"Just giving us a little background information," the reporter answered.
Adam smiled a real smile as the reporter turned and headed back across the parking lot, followed by the others.
"Where are you going?" Kyle shouted. He turned to Liz, his eyes practically popping out of his head. "What did you tell them?"
"Only the truth," Liz said with a shrug. Then she turned back toward the museum, tugging Adam by the hand. He fell into step with her, grinning like a child.
"You're amazing," he told Liz.
"I know." She grinned back at him. "It's a curse."
***
Max rubbed the silk of one of Isabel's blouses between his fingers, allowing a cluster of the beings to experience it. So soft. And made by worms. And-
Out of nowhere a tidal wave of fury hit Max. A massive group of beings swept the curious cluster away, and a series of demands were flung out.
Where was the second Stone? Where was the betrayer?
Max sank to his knees, the raw, pulsating anger incapacitating him. All he could do was allow it to wash over him, scalding. So hot, it turned the air to steam that singed Max's lungs.
The Stone! The Stone! The Stone!
The words were like red-hot brands on Max's skin.
You must find it! You must destroy the betrayer!
The wrath brought blisters up on his back, blisters on top of blisters. One of them burst open, and the coolness in that one small patch of skin brought tears of relief to Max's eyes.
You must destroy the betrayer! You must-
"Stop!" Max cried, not knowing whether he was using his voice or simply hurling the thought into the ocean of auras. "Stop! You're going to kill me."
The fury receded, just slightly. Max seized the opportunity and jammed the volume down on the consciousness, using all his will to keep his connection as low as possible.
He lowered his head and remained crouched on the floor of Isabel's room. You're all right, he told himself. He forced himself to study his arms. See? No brands. No bums. You're completely fine.
The sensation had been so powerful that even while staring at his unharmed skin, Max had a hard time accepting that he was even alive after what he'd experienced.
He slowly climbed to his feet. "Why am I in front of Izzy's closet?" he muttered.
Then he remembered. Some of the beings had wanted to experience the texture of silk. They'd have to wait. No way was he going to allow the volume of the consciousness back up.
He turned and headed to the door, then froze. That's not why he'd come in here. He bolted back to the closet. He'd come in here to see if any of Isabel's clothes were missing. He'd been afraid she and Michael had taken off, and he'd wanted to check it out.
Nothing should have been more important than that. And he'd been playing personal shopper to some of the beings. Max started whipping through the hangers in the closet. Why did Isabel have to have so damn many clothes? How was he supposed to know if anything was missing? She'd have to take a three-month supply for him to-
Max looked down at the floor, and his knees turned to oatmeal. She was gone. Her suitcase was gone, so she was gone.
He immediately turned toward Isabel's night table. The communication crystals were still there, right where he'd left them.
His entire body seemed to crumble, and Max lowered himself shakily onto the bed. His sister was gone, and she'd left behind the one thing that could save her.
Max doubled over. "Oh, God, Isabel. What did you do?"
TEN
"Turn it off!" Isabel begged, pointing at the television, where a particularly obnoxious episode of a daytime talk show was playing.
"Jerry's the man," Michael told her from his spot propped up on the motel's other twin bed.
"Turn
it off!" Isabel shrieked. The sound of her own voice tore through her head, leaving her gray matter pulsing.
Michael leaped toward the television, but not before the Springer audience went into another round of "Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!" The words ripped into the delicate membranes of her inner ears, the pain so intense she could feel it through her entire body. "Too loud," she whispered.
A second later Michael had the sound off. But he couldn't turn off the sound of his breathing. The sound of her own breathing. The sound of the hideous curtains brushing against the dirty window. All of these sounds were amplified to the point that Isabel was sure would drive her insane. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would somehow make the sounds softer. A finger tapped her shoulder lightly. She opened her eyes halfway, and Michael held a sheet of the motel's bleached-out stationery in front of her face. He'd written a note in all caps.
HANG ON. ONLY TEN MORE SECS.
He dropped the paper and sat down next to her on her bed. He held out his hands, all ten fingers up.
"One," he mouthed as he folded one of the fingers down.
The rasping sound of the skin of his finger brushing against the skin of his palm made Isabel's teeth feel electrified, but she kept her eyes on Michael's hands as he continued his countdown. When he had three fingers still up, the bout passed.
Isabel wrapped both her hands around one of his. "Thanks," she whispered.
"You want water? More blankets? Anything?" He sounded so eager to do something for her.
"Just sit here with me, okay?" Isabel asked, tightening her grip on his hand.
Michael nodded. He turned his head toward the TV, but not before Isabel caught the sheen of unshed tears coating his eyes.
Poor Michael. Poor her. Poor everybody.
Oh, stop it, she ordered herself. She turned her attention to the TV, too. Poor people on the show was more like it. They all needed someone to dress them in the morning. And the hair-forget about it. Everyone on the screen should shave their heads and try again.
"See, here's the deal," Michael said in a bad Texan accent, imitating one of Jerry's guests. "My girlfriend, she likes to dress like a man. Which is okay. Except that whenever she does, she keeps telling me that I'm fat, and it really, really hurts my feelings."
"That's way too tame for Jerry," Isabel told him. "It's more like, I can't go to bed with my girlfriend unless I dress like the Easter Bunny and my girlfriend dresses-" She paused and struggled to pull in a breath. "Dresses like a giant polka-dot egg."
Michael laughed. He was obviously relieved to see her talking again. "Why polka dot?" he asked.
"That's… that's the only part that…" Isabel had to stop for breath again. Suddenly she couldn't breathe and talk at the same time anymore. "… sounds strange to you?"
"Well, yeah," Michael said, struggling to keep a straight face. He used the edge of his flannel shirt to wipe the beads of sweat off her upper lip. "You sure you don't want some water?" he asked.
"That… sounds good," she answered. She wanted to give him something to do, but she wasn't sure she'd be able to get the water down. Her body was changing-drying up inside. Withering. She could feel it. And she wasn't sure that her esophagus would be able to handle bringing down the water. It might just… crumble.
Michael rushed back from the bathroom, holding a plastic cup almost overflowing with water. He sat down next to her again, slowly, careful not to jar her, then cradled her shoulders and brought the glass to her lips. She managed a tiny sip but shook her head when he wanted to give her more.
"Keep… holding me," she said. Michael set the glass on the night table and stretched out on his side next to her, arm still around her shoulders. "I think…" She drew in a wheezing breath. "… you should ask Maria to dress up… like an egg for you."
Michael used his sleeve to blot her forehead. "Okay, you're officially delirious," he told her. His voice was casual, but his gray eyes were serious and watchful.
Isabel tried to moisten her lips, but her tongue was too dry. Little pieces of skin were flaking off it. "She… loves you."
And Isabel knew Michael would need Maria. Especially if-Isabel let the thought slip away.
Of all the humans, Maria was the one he'd really let in. Isabel suspected that he might have revealed even more to Maria than he had to Isabel and Max. Things about his foster homes. He'd never talked about his foster homes to Isabel, close as they were.
"She loves… you," Isabel repeated.
Michael rubbed his spiky black hair with his free hand. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that," he muttered. He leaned closer until his face was inches from hers. "Look, Isabel, I don't know how much longer… I think I should teleport and get the crystals. Just in case."
"No!" Isabel cried. Then she started to cough so hard, she feared she'd shake her body apart.
"Maybe there was something Trevor had to do to survive the akino. Neither of us thought of that," Michael exploded when her coughing fit had passed. "You can't expect me to let you die."
Isabel reached up and cupped his face with her hands. "You have to. Do you hear me?" she demanded fiercely. She sucked as much breath as she could into her withered lungs. "It's my decision."
She looked him in the eye to make sure he absolutely understood her.
"Mine."
***
"They're gone," Max announced, glancing from Liz to Adam to Maria as soon as they were all seated in Michael and Adam's kitchen. "If they teleported, they could be anywhere."
"Michael's car is gone, too," Adam volunteered. He pulled his chair closer to the kitchen table, moving it closer to Liz's chair at the same time. She was glad he had. Now she could feel the warmth of his body radiating into hers, although their shoulders weren't quite touching.
Max let out a harsh laugh. "Oh, good. Then we should have no problem finding them. There are so few places you can drive."
Liz reached over and touched Adam's arm lightly, trying to signal him that he shouldn't take what Max said personally. She thought she caught a flicker of emotion on Max's face as he noticed the touch, but who knew what had caused it? Maybe the consciousness had expressed a need to know the composition of her nail polish or what the significance of her silver snake bracelet was.
Or maybe, just maybe, in that moment Max had been Max enough to experience a twinge of jealousy. She always used to know what he was thinking, but lately she had no idea. It was as if he existed in two worlds at the same time, and any reaction he had could be to something she couldn't see or hear or really understand.
"Michael won't let anything happen to her," Maria said. She twined one of her curls around her fingers so tightly, Liz expected her to give a yelp of pain. "If she gets too bad, he'll teleport back for the crystals."
"You're forgetting he's as terrified of joining the consciousness as she is," Max said. He tilted back his chair and snagged the plastic bottle of dish-washing soap off the counter. He squirted a little bit onto his finger and rubbed it into his skin. Liz and Maria exchanged a worried glance.
"Could you contact Michael on the dream plane?" Liz asked Max. He raised his finger and sniffed the soap. "Max! I said could you-"
"I heard you," Max answered. "But what would I tell him? He knows what's going to happen. He knows Isabel's going to die." Max jerked to his feet, knocking over the chair. "If that's not enough to convince him, what would?"
"What about Trevor?" Maria asked. She reached down and righted Max's chair. "If we could contact him-"
"Yeah, Maria, let's go find the guy who tried to kill me," Max snapped, his eyes flashing. Liz had never seen him so angry. It was almost comforting to see that he was so emotionally involved in something on this planet.
"We're all just trying to come up with some way-any way-to help Isabel," Liz reminded him firmly.
"I know," Max answered. He sounded so exhausted, so hopeless, that Liz longed to rush over and wrap her arms around him. But that wasn't possible. Not anymore. And anyway, it might end up
being the consciousness that felt most of the embrace, and Liz couldn't deal with that.
Max wandered over to the fridge, opened the freezer door, and stuck his head inside.
"What is he doing?" Adam whispered. Liz shrugged, her heart heavy. The consciousness probably wanted to feel winter.
"The only reason I suggested Trevor is that there's at least a chance he was telling the truth about surviving the akino without making the connection," Maria continued. Max didn't move or acknowledge her in the slightest. His head was still in the freezer. "If there's even a chance that he could tell us how-"
"Wait a second!" Liz exclaimed, suddenly seeing everything perfectly clearly. "That's where they'd go. To Trevor."
"Michael hates Trevor," Max said, his voice coming out distorted by the freezer.
"I know. But Michael won't let Isabel die. And he won't force her to join the consciousness," Liz answered in a rush. "Trevor is his only alternative."
Max banged his head on the top of the freezer as he turned to face her. "That just leaves us with one little problem-we have no idea how to find Trevor, either," he said. "Adam, do you know if they've been in contact?"
"I don't think so," Adam answered, looking at the floor.
Silence filled the kitchen.
"Where is Alex, anyway?" Maria suddenly demanded.
"Um, I think he's at the movies with some girl," Liz answered, piling her long hair on top of her head and then letting it coil down her back.
Maria stood up and grabbed her coat. "I'll be back," she told them, attempting an Arnold accent. She picked up the keys to Max's Jeep from the table and rushed out of the kitchen.
"Where is she going?" Max asked, sitting down again.
"Don't look at me," Liz replied quietly, acutely aware that she was now alone with Max and Adam.
"So what do we do now?" Adam asked, his gaze flicking from Max to Liz.