Loose ends r-1

by Greg Cox

  And then it happened: The dusty rock upon which he had placed the bulk of his weight came loose without warning. Max tumbled forward, losing his balance, while the dislodged boulder rolled down the side of the ridge, precipitating a mini-avalanche of falling rocks and rubble that noisily descended on the canyon below while throwing up a cloud of dust and sand.

  Oh, crap! Max thought, throwing himself flat against the ground, then rolling quickly until he was safely behind one of the surviving boulders, only inches from where Michael looked on, aghast. Holding on tightly to the binoculars, Michael gulped and ducked beneath the ledge he had been peering over. "Oh, man, we're in trouble now," he predicted.

  The cacophonous rockfall interrupted the tense, unequal confrontation between Morton and Ramirez. "What?" Morton shouted fiercely. "Who's that? Who's up there?"Looking about nervously, Ramirez hastily slung the cash-filled backpack over his shoulders. "Maybe it's just some animal," he said hopefully, sounding like he was ready to bolt at any moment.

  Morton, on the other hand, sounded more offended than anxious. "Show yourself, damnit! I'll teach you to spy on me, you sneaky bastards!"Facedown against the gravel, holding his breath, Max found himself wishing desperately that he possessed Tess's gift for warping human perceptions. If only he could project a realistic illusion of a coyote, or maybe a couple of mule deer, into the minds of the two men below! Alas, he had yet to master that trick.

  "Oh God," Ramirez moaned, facing imminent exposure and ruin. "We've gotta get out of here!"But Morton wasn't listening to him. "Show yourself!" he demanded again. Max heard the heavy man climbing toward the ridge, his feet slipping and sliding in the loose rubble. "Give yourself up, or I'll blow you to pieces!"Wordlessly, Max and Michael looked at each other, both hoping that the other knew what to do next. Max was torn; part of him wanted to throw Morton's threats back at him, pitting scathing psychic energy against hot lead, but the lifelong imperative to conceal his powers helped him resist that reckless impulse. But what else can I do? he agonized. Keep low and hope Morton doesn't find us? Michael had another, crazier idea. Throwing back his head, he cupped his hands around his mouth, and let out a feeble imitation of a coyote's howl. Max stared at his friend in disbelief, but Michael merely shrugged in return, his defiant expression plainly asking if Max had any better ideas.

  The intent, clearly, was to trick Morton into thinking there was nobody up on the ridge except maybe a harmless coyote or two. It might have worked, too, if Michael had been able to pull it off convincingly; unfortunately, to Max's ears, Michael's heartfelt howl had sounded just like what it was: a desperate teenager trying unsuccessfully to mimic the real thing. Nice try, Max thought, but, geez, Michael, Wile E. Coyote sounds more believable than thatl Morton wasn't fooled for a second. "Yeah, right!" he laughed nastily; apparently all Michael had succeeded in doing was insult the hot-tempered gunman's intelligence. "Take this, smart guy!"Gunshots rocked the night, and bullets slammed into the stony crags, chipping off bits of stone and dusting the two teenagers' heads with pulverized rock. Instinctively, Max threw up a force field between them and the disintegrating outcropping; a concave bowl of shimmering green energy blocked the bullets while casting an uncanny emerald radiance upon the hillside.

  Max heard Morton's heavy tread stomping up the ridge toward them. More gunshots sounded, provoking semi-hysterical cries of protests from Ramirez. "Are you crazy?" the jittery, guilt-stricken lieutenant shouted. "Put away that gun! Someone will hear!"Max could have told Ramirez, from personal experience, just how trigger-happy Morton could be once he lost his temper. If the hotheaded crook could draw his pistol in the middle of a crowded diner in broad daylight, what was going to stop him from opening fire alone in the wilderness well after midnight? He's not going to give up, Max realized. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he tried to think while simultaneously maintaining the force field. We have to get away. We can't let him see us.

  "Get ready," he warned Michael tersely. He placed his palms against the side of the ridge and closed his eyes. This was going to take careful timing.

  "Get ready?" Michael echoed in confusion. The lambent glow of the force field cast greenish shadows upon his face, making him look more, well, alien than usual. "Ready for what?"This!" Flexing his mental muscles, Max converted his defensive shield into a battering ram of psionic force that smashed into what was left of the outcropping, sending another avalanche of rocks tumbling toward Morton, who fired wildly, the unblocked bullets ricocheting off the hillside behind, one of the stray shots ripping apart a cactus only a few feet away from Max, who grabbed onto Michael's arm and leaped to his feet. Pins and needles stung his stiff legs, but Max ignored the pain in his eagerness to escape from Mortons murderous gunfire. Another ricochet shattered the Tabasco bottle, staining the soil red and filling Max's nostrils with its hot, spicy smell. "Run, coyote-boy, run!" he shouted to Michael. "Follow me!"Running uphill would have slowed them down too much, not to mention presented Morton with a pair of easy targets, so instead Max took a chance, clearing the ridge and taking off down the hill, passing by Morton, who had thankfully been knocked off his feet by the rockfall Max had just triggered. Half skidding, half sliding, Max reached the floor of the canyon in seconds, with Michael right behind him. To his relief, Ramirez was nowhere to be seen; Max guessed that the gun-shy test pilot had decided to make tracks before any cops or park rangers showed up, drawn by the sound of gunfire. Not a bad idea, Max decided.

  He sprinted down the trail, away from Slaughter Canyon Cave. Mercifully, the crescent moon provided enough illumination to see by, so he didn't need to risk generating any additional light on his own. He kept his gaze glued to the rough trail ahead, watching out for obstructions and pitfalls, even if that meant that he couldn't look back to see if Morton had regained his footing yet. Michael's racing footsteps smacked against the uneven ground behind him, letting Max know that the other teen was keeping up with him.

  Suddenly, gunshots erupted from the top of the trail. "Come back here, you sons of bitches!" Morton hollered, having obviously recovered from the landslide. "Come back here!" he yelled irrationally, like anyone was really going to turn around and run back toward the crazed lunatic shooting at them. "Who the hell are you stupid kids? Where did you come from? How much did you see?"Not enough, Max thought gloomily, putting on another burst of speed in hopes of evading Morton's blistering fusillade. This entire midnight excursion had turned into a disaster, and they hadn't even learned what was in that blasted attache case. Bullets pelted the steep mountain trail, throwing up agitated plumes of sand and dirt. What's the range of one of those pistols anyway? Max worried. The ferocious cascade of bullets nipped at his and Michael's heels, and he realized that he never had learned why this particular corner of die park was known as Slaughter Canyon. He hoped and prayed that the name would not prove prophetic.

  I'm sorry, Liz! More dian anything else, he feared leaving her alone in a world that still held the threat of Joe Morton. I tried to protect you! I should have killed him when I had the chance!

  10.

  It was Maria's turn to use the phone.

  "Yeah, Mom. 1 know it's late. I just wanted to let you know that we ended up spending the night here at Carlsbad, so we can do some more hiking in the park tomorrow. Yes, Mom, we rented two rooms at the motel, one for the chicks and one for the guys. Uh-huh, liz and Alex and the others are all staying over. Yes, Michael, too…That's right, Mom, you've seen right through me, 1 confess: We're eloping, all six of us, over the Mexican border for a group wedding in Tijuana. I'll be sure to send you a Polaroid." Maria sighed and rolled her eyes heavenward, inviting sympathy from the rest of the teenagers in the cramped motel room. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Yeah, we're having a good time…"That's stretching the truth a bit, Isabel Evans thought. She sat at the foot of one of the room's twin queen-size beds, pressing one of her favorite CDs against her ear. Paula Cole's "I Don't Want to Wait," from the Dawson's Creek soundtrack album, failed to drown out entirel
y Maria's one-sided discussion with her mother, nor did it ease Isabels growing concern for Michael and her brother, who had been away for far too long now.

  She looked at the cheap plastic alarm clock sitting on the end table between the two beds. It was almost 1:25 in the morning. The rest of them had already contacted their respective parents hours ago, notifying them of their overnight stay at the Days Inn, but apparently Maria's mom had been working late, or out on a date, or something. Fortunately, none of their parental units had raised too much of a fuss over the kids' plans, knowing that you really couldn't do all the Caverns in one day.

  If only that were the worst of our problems, Isabel thought morosely. Not for the first time, she wished she could have a normal life, with normal teenage dilemmas, instead of the fraught existence she seemed doomed to live. Mentally increasing the volume of the music playing in her ear, she surveyed the scene around her, taking stock of their latest sorry situation.

  Although they had indeed rented two rooms, for propriety's sake, everyone was crowded into the girls' room for the moment, waiting in unbearable suspense for Max and Michael to get back from Slaughter Canyon. Maria sat at the head of the same bed as Isabel, dutifully placating her mom, while Liz rested in the next bed over, her back against the headboard, her knees tented beneath the frayed cotton sheets. Aside from a brief call to her folks, which she had somehow managed to garner enough composure to fake her way through, the shell-shocked brunette had barely said five words all evening, still locked in what Alex had labeled post-traumatic stress disorder. Unable to sleep, Liz just sat up in bed, her arms locked around her knees in a quasi-fetal position, while her haunted brown eyes watched the front door, counting the seconds until Max's return. Her face was ashen, and dark purple shadows collected beneath her eyes, making her look positively gaunt and spectral, like the crazy wife in some old Bronte novel.

  She needs a makeover, big time, Isabel thought, but she knew that Liz's troubles ran much deeper than that. A pang of sympathy pierced Isabel's heart. If truth be told, liz Parker was not always her favorite person; through, admittedly, no fault of her own, the loose-lipped, lovestruck human girl had severely complicated Isabel's life by discovering the Big Secret, and broken her brother's heart on more than one occasion. Even still, it was impossible to look at Liz now, so frail and washed-out, and not feel sorry for her. Besides, Isabel kept looking at the front door, too; if nothing else, she and Liz were united by their common love for Max.

  "I don't believe this," Alex griped close by. He squatted cross-legged at the end of Liz's bed, channel-surfing with the aid of a remote he had found on the end table. "Eighty-plus channels, and nothing decent to watch. Just infomer- cials and movies that were bad the first ten times you watched them." He leaned toward the unimpressive twelve-inch screen provided by the motel, his thumb relentlessly working the remote. "Have you ever noticed how Earth Girls Are Easy always seems to be playing on cable somewhere?"Speaking on behalf of Earth girls everywhere," Maria quipped, finally putting down the phone, "I object to that characterization, no matter what Michael might have told any of you." She yawned and looked at her watch. "Ohmigosh, they're not back yet?" The blond teenager joined Liz and Isabel in the Door-Watchers Club, her glib repartee failing to conceal that she was just as scared and worried as the rest of them. "What could they possibly be doing all night in a place called Slaughter Canyon? On second thought, don't answer that."Catching the somber vibe in the room, Alex felt obliged to do something. "Hang on," he said, putting aside the remote and hopping off the bed. "Let me take another look outside."Be careful, Alex," Isabel urged him once more, putting down her CD. Alex had no special powers to protect him if that Joe Morton character, or even Lieutenant Ramirez, somehow managed to trace Liz to this motel room. I'm giving Max and Michael until 2 am., she resolved, then I'm going after them in the jetta. The only reason she let Alex act as lookout here at the motel was because the danger seemed minimal, and she knew that Alex needed something to do. As is, his ardent need to be of use to her and other women was, to be honest, already getting on her nerves.

  "Never fear," he told her, stepping out of the room. A gust of warm air penetrated the air-conditioned motel room. "I'll be back right away."In fact, he was gone less than ten minutes before the doot swung open again and he lunged back into the room. She could tell by the look on his boyish face that he had something to tell them. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the worst. "What is it?" she asked in a whisper.

  Alex hesitated, unsure where to begin. "Well, the good news is that Morton's blue Chevy is back at the Motel 6, parked outside his room." He tapped one foot repeatedly against the floor, full of nervous energy. "The bad news is, I don't see any sign of the Jeep."What does this mean? Isabel wondered. Making a deliberate effort to curb her fears, she forced herself to think through the implications of Alex's discovery "Max and Michael wouldn't leave the park until Morton did," she speculated, "so maybe they're just hanging back now, putting a little time and distance between them and Morton."You really think so?" Liz asked plaintively, desperate for reassurance. Her journal rested on the bed next to her, next to a ballpoint pen. Isabel hoped that writing down her turbulent thoughts had helped Liz get some perspective on the traumatic memories and feelings eating away at her. Judging from her hollow eyes and pitiful tone, however, her private scribblings had provided Liz with little relief so far.

  "Sure, that sounds right," Maria chimed in promptly. She uncapped a tiny brown vial and treated Liz to a therapeutic sniff of Cyprus oil. "I'm positive they'll be back any minute."Unless something terrible has happened to them, Isabel thought silently. Worst- case scenarios rose unbeckoned from her wayward imagination. For all we know, Max and Michael mi$it already be buried in the desert somewhere; with all these caverns and uninhabited wilderness around here, it could be years before anyone found their bodies…

  "No," Isabel said softly, not allowing herself to succumb to such nightmarish imaginings. Max sometimes accused her of being too pessimistic, of always seeing the Tabasco bottle as half-empty, but she refused to give up hope just yet. "Come on, Max, Michael. Where are you?"Over fifteen excruciating minutes later, there was still no sign of their missing friends. "That's it," Isabel declared, rising from the bed and extending an open hand toward Maria. "Give me the keys to the Jetta, I'm going to look for them."I'm going with you," Alex insisted, a little too hastily. He sprang to his feet and hustled to Isabel's side. His determined eyes and stubborn expression virtually dared her to leave him behind.

  This isn't about us, Alex, she thought, with a flash of irritation. It's about locating Max and Michael.

  On the other hand, she really didn't want to do this alone. "Okay," she said, recognizing that, deep down inside, she could use the company. "Thanks." Taking the car keys from Maria, she paused by the door long enough to look back at the other two women. "Will you be okay on your own?"Sure," Maria pledged. Moving over to the other bed, she draped her arm over Liz like a mother hen, then stared up at Isabel with anxious green eyes. "Find them, okay?"Ill do my best, Isabel thought, uncomfortable with the thought that everyone was depending on her. Before she and Alex could embark on their possibly hopeless mission, however, a sudden knock at the door electrified everyone in the room.

  Could it be? "Oh, thank goodness!" Isabel exclaimed, rushing to the door and placing her eye against the security peephole. To her vast relief, the minuscule spyglass presented a fish-eye view of both Max and Michael, apparently alive and well. Expelling a grateful sigh, she quickly undid the chain and let the returnees stagger in, sweaty and disheveled but each, thankfully, still in one piece.

  "Where have you been?" she asked eventually, after heartfelt hugs and greetings all around. She paced back and forth between the TV and the beds, too keyed up and adrenalized to sit down, like she was still strapped into some sort of emotional roller coaster. "We were so worried!"While Michael helped himself to a glass of cold water from the bathroom sink, Max told them all about what
had taken place in Slaughter Canyon. Twigs and tiny flecks of gravel clung to his jeans and T-shirt, which also bore large, reddish- brown dirt stains. Isabel lovingly passed her hand in front of her brother, miraculously cleansing him of the most obvious evidence of his adventure even as he continued his exhausted account of his and Michael's close call.

  "…after we finally got out of range of Morton's pistol, we left the trail and ended up hiding in the scrub overlooking the canyon. Then, unfortunately, we had to keep out of sight until Morton gave up hunting for us and drove out of the park. Just to play it safe, we decided to hide a little while longer before hiking back to the parking lot ourselves." Max sat down on the edge of Liz's bed and gratefully accepted a glass of water from Maria. "We also took the long way back here, off the main highway, just in case Morton was waiting in ambush somewhere between the park and Carlsbad." He cast a concerned look at Liz, no doubt seeing the emotional strain written on her face. "Sorry to keep you in suspense so long."I'll say," Maria blurted, speaking for the rest of the Door-Watching Club. "They also serve, who only sit around in cheap motel rooms, you know." Michael emerged from the bathroom and she patted the bed beside her, welcoming him back. "Although it beats dodging bullets, I guess."Oh my God, Max," Liz moaned, the death-defying details of the two boys' perilous expedition sinking in. "You could have been killed."But we weren't," Max stressed. He took Liz's hand tO comfort her, but his own eyes remained darkly intent and troubled. "And the worst part is, we still don't know what Morton and the lieutenant were doing there tonight, besides arguing about the price of whatever was in that briefcase."He lifted his gaze toward his sister. "That's where you come in, Iz. I have a really big favor to ask."Isabel gulped, knowing already what Max wanted from her. I have a bad feeling about this, she thought.