A New Beginning

by Kevin Ryan

questions now, so he did the only thing he knew he could

  do: He worked.

  Max peeked into the diner for perhaps the hundredth time

  since they had started working. Liz and Maria were fine.

  As he turned back to his work, he saw Michael staring into

  the front window as well. Michael looked away a moment

  later, and Max caught his eye as he friend did so. Michael

  shrugged, but neither one spoke. They didn't need to. They

  * * *

  both knew what they were doing: keeping a close eye on the

  girls until they could get them all out of Stonewall.

  Max thought that the prospect or running out on this

  fight should have shamed him, but he found that it did

  not. I'm not running, his mind replied on its own. He was

  protecting Liz and the others.

  Once again, he wondered what kind of King he had

  been in his last life. What would that person think of what

  he was doing now? Had he loved Tess—his wife and

  betrayer—then as he loved Liz now? Would he have been

  willing to risk or sacrifice her? What about Michael? Or

  Isabel? Whoever he had been then, he knew he would not

  risk any of his friends now—and Liz least of all.

  Maybe that made him unfit to be a King. That was

  fine—he didn't want the job. And by all accounts, he had

  blown it for himself, his friends, and his whole planet

  back when he was a King, anyway. For now, he would

  concentrate on protecting his piece of this world. If he

  couldn't save a planet, perhaps there was wise enough a

  ruler in him to save his friends and the girl he loved.

  Max tried to concentrate on the work in front of him. It

  was an effort, but he kept his hands busy. By the time the

  lunch crowd was done, he, Michael, and Isabel had managed

  to finisn priming and painting the front of the diner. The

  work had not calmed him or given him any peace, but he fig-

  ured it was better than sitting idle. Isabel had used her pow-

  ers a bit in the end to spruce up the restaurant's sign, but Max

  hadn't bothered to protest. There was no one on the street to

  see them. They were finished, but Max was reluctant to move

  on. When they were working on the side and die back, he

  wouldn't be able to watch Liz through the window.

  * * *

  "Looks like the lunch rush is over," Max said.

  "Rush?" Michael repeated. The restaurant had had

  maybe one third of its usual number of customers that day.

  "That does it," Max said. He stepped back to look over

  the work.

  "Let's clean up and get something to eat," Max said.

  "Great job outside. Thank you," Bell said, after they'd

  freshened up. Though she was trying to put on a smile,

  Max could tell that—like him and everyone else—she was

  really thinking of only one thing.

  "Thank you," Max said. "We used to paint with our dad

  back home."

  Bell nodded. "I didn't expect you to do the sign, too,"

  she said.

  "I found some matching paint in the basement," Isabel

  said, covering quickly.

  "How did you get the neon to work?" Bell asked. "It

  hasn't come on in years."

  "I fixed it," Michael said, jumping in. "It was just a

  loose contact."

  Bell nodded politely, then turned serious. She looked

  from Max to Michael and said, "You look after the girls."

  "We will," Max said.

  "These things happen in threes. They always take

  three girls at a time within about twenty-four hours. I

  know it sounds like crazy superstition, but every time it's

  happened, three girls have gone missing. Okay?" Bell

  said.

  "Okay," Max said. Since she was opening up, Max con-

  sidered pumping Bell for information, but he decided

  * * *

  against it. He needed to concentrate on getting his friends

  as far from Stonewall as possible.

  Bell nodded and walked off. Liz came over and greeted

  him with a thin smile. Then she kissed him. holding it

  longer than usual.

  Bell brought them food, but didn't stay to eat with

  them. "I'll be in the back with Sam," was all she said. Max

  understood. He wouldn't leave Liz's side voluntarily.

  Kyle came in just as they sat down. Leaning into his

  friends, he said, "The engine is in and back in one piece. I

  have more I could do, but if we have to go, the van will be

  ready tonight."

  Max nodded. At the same moment, Jimmy stirred and

  Max felt a pang of guilt. We can't help her, Max reminded

  himself. No one can. Not now.

  The voice in his own head sounded so convincing that

  he almost believed it.

  "Then we'll go tonight when you get off work," Max

  said to Liz and Maria.

  The others nodded. No one liked it, but they all silently

  agreed that they did not have a choice. A moment later,

  Max realized that they had fallen into their old habits: Max

  making decisions, and the others going along. But this was

  a decision that Max knew was the only one he or any of

  them could make.

  After lunch, they started on the side of the diner. He

  didn't like not being able to see the girls, and he knew that

  Michael didn't either.

  Yet he knew it was irrational. There had never been an...

  incident during daylight. And they would be on their way

  tonight.

  * * *

  "Too bad we won't be able to finish," Isabel said as they

  began. They would finish priming the side and rear of the

  diner today. And they would paint maybe half of the side

  wall before dinner. "Bell and Sam have been good to us,"

  she added.

  Max only nodded. "Too bad," he said, knowing that the

  painting was the smallest part of it—but the only part they

  could talk about now.

  * * *

  20

  kyle finished the tune-up and decided to call it a day.

  There wasn't much more he could do, at least not before

  he had to meet his friends. The van's engine had new

  points and plugs, and he'd gotten all cylinders working.

  The brakes were new, and he'd replaced all the belts and

  hoses.

  Given more time, he would have done more with the

  suspension and taken a very close look at the carburetor.

  For that matter, he would have stripped both the engine

  and the carb and completely and rebuilt them.

  But they were out of time. The van would get them

  hundreds of miles from Stonewall, at least. That would

  have to be enough. He had done all he could.

  After he cleaned himself up, he headed into the office.

  Stepping inside, he reflexively looked for Dawn, scanning

  the small room for a moment before he realized the fool-

  ishness of the act. Still, her perfume hung in the room,

  and he imagined that he could feel her there. Yeah, I've

  done all 1 could, he thought. I'm a regular hero.

  * * *

  Kyle did what he had to do quickly. Using the com-

  puter, he found out the going rate for his timing chain.

  Then he figured out what he had
earned from Dan so far.

  It wasn't enough, but he knew that would be the case. So

  he took an envelope and put in the difference with the

  money Liz had left him.

  Then he pulled the van up to the pump and filled it

  with gas. Going back inside, he put the money for the gas

  into the envelope.

  Grabbing a pen, he jotted a quick note on the side of

  the envelope: Dan, thanks for everything. Here is the balance

  I owe you for the timing chain and some gas.

  It wasn't enough, Kyle realized, but he didn't even

  know how to begin to say the things he wanted to say. In

  the end, he just scrawled, I'm sorry on the bottom of the

  note and signed his name.

  Taking the letter outside, he placed it in the garage

  mailbox, which was nailed to the wall outside the door.

  He quickly parked the van by the side of the garage,

  making sure that it was pointed toward the road. All they

  would have to do now was get into it and drive. Walking

  around back, Kyle took a last look in the room where he

  and his friends had stayed. He wondered what Dan would

  make of some of the "improvements" that Isabel had made.

  He wondered if Dan ever went inside that room.

  Johnny's room, his mind supplied.

  Kyle wasn't sure where that thought came from, but he

  was sure that he was right. The room had been Johnny's.

  Maybe a playroom or something when the boys were

  younger, then a teenage rec room when Johnny was

  older—before he went to war.

  * * *

  There was more than one ghost in the garage, Kyle real-

  ized.

  Collecting the towels and blankets, he carried them

  outside and shut the door behind him. Kyle was sure that

  Dan would not be back in the room. It was a shame, he

  thought. It was a good place—it had been a good place.

  And it must have meant something to Dan once.

  Now it was just a painful reminder.

  Kyle heard the door swing shut as he carried the linens

  to the office. Inside, he placed them on the couch and

  headed off to meet his friends. He spared a glance down

  the road, where Gomer and Dawn had met with the aliens

  who had taken her. He remembered the dark cloud, the

  ship, and the feeling it had given him in his stomach. He

  wasn't looking forward to driving past that spot, but it

  couldn't be helped. They would leave it and all of

  Stonewall behind soon enough.

  As he headed down the empty Main Street, Kyle realized

  that he was sorry to be leaving Stonewall. They had gotten

  stuck here, and the town made Roswell look like New York

  City, but there it was. It didn't make sense, but Kyle real-

  ized that he had better stop trying to make sense of his

  life—it certainly hadn't gotten himself anywhere lately.

  Kyle reached the diner just as the sun was started to set

  behind him. Through the window he saw his friends

  milling around inside the empty diner. He found himself

  wondering if there had been any customers for the

  evening rush.

  There was something in the air again in Stonewall. Kyle

  had felt it yesterday before Dawn was taken. The feeling

  was even stronger today.

  * * *

  His friends greeted him as he walked in, their faces

  somber. He could see painting gear piled up near the

  kitchen door. Then he realized something was wrong.

  Jimmy wasn't at his place by the window. A moment later,

  Bell came out and Max approached her. "I'm sorry we

  won't be able to finish the painting job," Max said.

  "Finish . . . ?" Bell said, confusion on her face.

  "We have to be going," Liz said.

  Understanding spread across Bell's face. "If I didn't live

  here, I'd be going too. In fact, I've been thinking that this

  might be a time to make that trip to the Grand Canyon

  Sam and I have always talked about. As for the painting,

  you kids did a beautiful job. Thanks," Bell said.

  "The front is done, and the side and back are scraped,

  patched, and primed. Sam can do most of the painting

  that's left with a roller and an extension pole," Max said

  apologetically.

  "Don't worry about it. It looks like business is going to

  be slow for a while. We'll feed you kids and send you on

  your way," Bell said, turning back to the kitchen. "Sam,

  last order of the night," she said.

  Kyle noticed that Maria was already in her street

  clothes. Liz, however, was still in uniform and was busy

  cleaning out the coffee machine.

  "It's time, Parker," Maria said.

  "I'll just do a few things while we wait for the food," Liz

  replied, moving on to fill a silverware holder.

  Kyle understood what she was doing. She was keeping

  busy and trying to do something nice for Bell, because the

  woman had been good to her and because Liz felt like she

  was running out on her.

  * * *

  A few minutes later, Bell started bringing out the food.

  She and Sam sat down with them to eat. "I'm sorry that we

  can't give you a better sendoff," Bell said.

  "You've done plenty for us," Liz replied. "We needed

  the jobs, and we wouldn't have eaten much in these last

  few days without you both."

  Bell shrugged, "I'm glad you girls came. If you ever get

  tired of the road, you can always come back and work

  here."

  Then the group started cleaning up, a ritual that felt

  like long habit though they had only been doing it for a

  few days. When they were finished, Bell handed Liz and

  Maria envelopes. The girls opened them, and Liz immedi-

  ately said, "This is too much."

  Bell shook her head. "I think that's just right."

  "Combined, this is probably more than the diner made

  today," Liz said.

  "Think of it as a bonus, for the painting and every-

  thing," Bell said.

  Liz was about to protest, but Bell shushed her, saying,

  "Sam feels pretty strongly about it. And you don't want to

  get into an argument with him. Trust me. For one thing, it

  takes forever."

  "Thanks," Liz said, tears forming in her eyes. Liz

  hugged Bell, then Maria, then Michael, Isabel, and Kyle.

  They each said thank-you, and Bell looked outside and

  said, "You kids better get going. It's starting to get dark

  out."

  Liz turned for the door when Max stopped her with a

  hand on her shoulder. "Liz," he said, pointing at the wait-

  ressing uniform that she was still wearing.

  * * *

  "Oh yeah," Liz said, smiling. "I'll just be a second."

  Liz followed Bell into the kitchen.

  Grabbing her clothes, Liz watched Bell go to the open base-

  ment door and shout down, "Sam, let's get a move on."

  Smiling, Liz went into the bathroom. She quickly took

  off her uniform and put on her street clothes. She

  stopped to check herself in the mirror when she heard a

  dull rumbling—like the sound of a large truck barreling

  down the highway in the distance.

  The probl
em was that she wasn't near a highway.

  Then she felt a vibration in the floor. As soon as she felt

  it, she realized what was happening. From that moment

  on, what followed seemed to happen in slow motion. The

  sound and the rumbling seemed to be coming from the

  rear of the diner, in the alley behind the kitchen area

  where Liz was herself.

  Bell, was her first thought. She's back there.

  With agonizing slowness, she reached for the doorknob

  of the bathroom and opened it. The rumbling was now a

  roar in her head.

  The light in the kitchen was dimming, but she could

  still see the open basement door. She also saw that the back

  door was open. Bell must be outside, probably taking out

  the garbage. She found her voice and called out, "Bell!"

  There was no answer, but Liz thought she saw a figure

  silhouetted outside. It was hard to tell because the world

  went almost completely dark.

  No, it hasn't gone dark, Liz realized. A dark cloud was

  covering it somehow. It was a cloud you couldn't touch or

  feel, but it somehow covered light in blackness.

  * * *

  No, Liz could feel the cloud. She felt it right in her stom-

  ach in a twisting mass.

  Don't look, she thought, and willed her eyes shut.

  She felt only slightly better. Whatever that cloud was, it

  was penetrating even her closed eyes. She felt queasy, and

  her legs were rubbery under her.

  She pushed all that aside. Bell was in trouble. And she

  didn't need her gift to see Bells future unless she did some-

  thing.

  Liz didn't know what she could do, but she wouldn't

  stand here while whatever was out there took Bell.

  Before she could think, Liz found herself running

  toward the back door. Her hip banged into a counter, and

  she opened her eyes. It didn't help. The dark cloud was

  everywhere, and she couldn't make out anything.

  Using her hands, she felt her way. Then there was a

  strangled cry. Liz was sure it was Bell.

  "Bell! Hang on!" Liz said.

  Then there was a voice calling her name.

  "Liz!" It was Max's voice.

  Max would help. He would know what to do.

  Then Liz's hand found the open door that led to the

  alley behind the diner.