The Salvation rh-10

by Melinda Metz

  Michael paced in a tight circle, then returned to his position in front of the mirror. "The way you feel about Maria-that's not a reason to give up the biggest dream of your life. It's not a reason to blow off helping to rebuild a freakin' world. It's what your parents would have wanted. You and Trevor, continuing their work together."

  He leaned over and splashed some cold water on his face. "Remember Cameron?" he asked himself as he raised his dripping head back up. "Remember how you felt about her? Well, you don't really feel that way anymore. So, who knows? In a few months Maria might not even-"

  Except now that he'd had some time away from Cameron, he didn't think he'd ever come close to feeling about her the way he felt about Maria. What he and Cameron went through in the compound was so intense, it formed an instant bond between them. And yeah, she was hot. But he and Maria had spent nights, and nights, and nights together, watching horror movies and babysitting. It was like Maria had put down roots in his body without him even noticing. Until now. Until he thought of never seeing her again.

  "You've got to do this," Michael told himself, dunking his head again. "Operation Cold Turkey is in full effect." He grabbed a couple of paper towels and dried off his hair as he returned to the booth.

  "The Stones are so phenomenally powerful," Maria said as he approached. "It's hard to believe there's anything two of them couldn't do." She didn't glance at Michael as he slid back into his seat.

  Trevor grabbed a slice of the pizza that had been served while Michael was lecturing himself in the can.

  "I'm not totally sure all three Stones are absolutely necessary to shatter the consciousness," he admitted. "It may just be that as long as the consciousness has even one of the Stones' power available to it, it will be strong enough to hold off an attack from the other two."

  "That doesn't help at all, does it?" Michael said, stirring his straw in his drink. "Getting the Stone away from the consciousness isn't any easier than taking it for ourselves." He took one of the meatball-and-pineapple slices and coated it with his own personal dipping sauce.

  Maria wrinkled her nose in disgust and took a long sip of her mineral water. "I wonder what kind of range that device Kyle used on the Stone has. Remember-it sucked all the power out of the Stone in seconds."

  "And it took days to recharge it," Trevor added.

  "There's no way it's powerful enough to reach all the way to the home planet," Michael said, taking a bite of his concoction.

  "What about a timer? Or a remote?" Maria asked. She wasn't eating a thing, and Michael had a feeling his offer to Trevor was the reason, but he didn't say anything. "I just don't want you-you two-to have to go back there, and-and have all those beings die if there's another way."

  Trevor dropped his slice back to his plate. "Maybe we could rig up a timer to that device and send it through a wormhole. It would take out the Stone at home, but the two we have would be safe."

  "So, step one-we get the device," Michael said, feeling the adrenaline begin to pump through his body. This was good. They were starting to form a plan. A shoddy plan, but a plan nonetheless.

  "Right," Maria said, shifting in her seat. "But only Kyle Valenti knows where it is."

  "Okay, so where's Kyle?" Trevor asked, taking a huge bite of pizza.

  "He's still… resting," Maria answered. "In the mental institution."

  ***

  Liz tightened her grip on Max's leg. She kept her eyes focused on Alex. If she let herself glance down at Max's body, she got the chilling feeling that she, Alex, and Isabel were his pallbearers. He's still alive, and he's still Max, she reassured herself. He's just… hidden from you right now.

  "Watch out, Alex! You almost let his head hit the stair railing!" Isabel exclaimed.

  Alex gave a grunt in reply and kept climbing backward, cradling Max's shoulders in his arms. He carefully inched through the open front door of Michael's apartment. "Do you need a break before we take him the rest of the way?"

  Liz and Isabel exchanged a look. "No, we're okay. Keep going," Liz answered. Her breath was coming a little hard, but she didn't want to lay Max down on the floor like a basket of laundry that had gotten too heavy. She kicked the apartment door shut when she cleared it, and then they crept down the hallway toward the bedroom. Her arms were aching by the time they managed to put Max down on the bed, but she still hated to let him go.

  "We'll look for the Stones again tomorrow," Isabel announced, in case the consciousness was listening. She brushed Max's hair off his forehead and stared down at his face for a long moment. "So, we'll be in the kitchen if you need anything. Okay, Max?"

  "I want to stay in here a little bit again and just-um-visit," Liz stammered. She adjusted her backpack, feeling her supplies slide around inside.

  "Leave the door open. And don't get too close, okay?" Alex said.

  Liz nodded, even though she knew she had absolutely no intention of following Alex's instructions. As soon as he and Isabel were safely in the kitchen, Liz closed the door halfway, figuring one of them would come check on her if she shut it completely, and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Max.

  "I've been reading this book on comas," she told him. "I know you're not in one, but I thought some of the experimental techniques they've tried to bring coma patients back to consciousness might work on you." She pulled off her backpack and unzipped it, watching Max's face the entire time. "The big thing seems to be stimulating the senses, through methods like music or even pain. But don't worry, there will be no pain involved," Liz added quickly.

  Oh, God. Did I blow it? Did I just announce to the consciousness my whole plan and give it time to defend itself? But it was too late to worry about that now. She took a CD out of her backpack, stuck it in the player on the nightstand, selected the track, and hit play.

  "Remember this one?" she asked, focusing on Max's eyes. "It's the song that was playing during our dance as homecoming queen and king, our first dance together." Her heart squeezed as she listened to the melody and remembered how she felt that night-beautiful and special and loved. She tried to push the feelings aside.

  "You were so surprised you'd won, I wasn't sure you'd even be able to move. But it was a great dance." Liz stopped talking and let the music fill the room. As she listened, she could almost see the cheesy yellow and brown crepe paper streamers that had filled the gym that night, could almost see the shock in Max's bright blue eyes when she'd pretty much asked him to kiss her, shock followed by warmth that had almost melted her bones.

  Was the song flooding Max with images the way it was her? Or was the consciousness now controlling the part of Max's brain that held his memories? His face gave her no clue. There was no change of expression.

  "Okay, let's try something else," Liz said when the song ended. She snapped off the CD player and removed a bottle of ketchup from her backpack. The smell always brought her back to one of the most intense experiences of her life. She thought it might do the same for Max.

  "Worth a shot," she mumbled as she turned Max's palm up, smoothing out his fingers. She touched him a little longer than she needed to, then upended the bottle and waited for a dollop to fall onto his skin.

  "Come on, come on." She gave the side of the bottle an impatient smack. Then, remembering the trick her mama had taught her, she found the little raised 57 on the glass and hit the bottle again, right over the number. With a plop a blob of ketchup fell into Max's hand. Liz curled his fingers over and rubbed them in it. "Remember ketchup?" she asked. "You broke a ketchup bottle and poured it over my stomach to cover the blood, remember, Max? It was the day you healed me. The day you saved my life."

  Max's face remained blank. Liz ran one of her fingers through the ketchup and then held it under his nose. "Remember that day, Max? The day everything changed? The day you risked everything for me?"

  It's not working, she realized. Something else. Something else. Liz wiped off her finger and Max's hand, then rooted through her backpack frantically. She'd really thought the
ketchup was a great choice, but just because that smell always jerked her back to that wonderful, horrible moment didn't mean it was the trigger for Max.

  "Maybe this will work for you," Liz said. She pulled free a dark green dress, lace over a lighter, silky smooth layer, then ran the cloth down Max's cheek. "This was what I was wearing when I told you I loved you the very first time. Remember?" She rubbed the cloth against his skin again, harder. Too hard. The lace made a row of tiny scratches.

  "Oh, sorry." Liz kissed her fingers, then pressed them over the scratches. "Sorry," she repeated, kissing the scratches themselves.

  She scooted closer to Max, and the backpack fell onto the floor. She didn't bother to pick it up. When she'd been gathering all the items that might snap Max back to her, she'd forgotten about the physical sensation that, at least for her, was more powerful than anything else-a kiss.

  Liz knew the consciousness could be feeling everything that she was doing to Max and that he might not be aware of any of it. But she pushed that thought out of her mind.

  "I love you, Max," she said, clearly and forcefully. Then she lowered her head and kissed him, trying to infuse the kiss with all the emotion and passion she had inside her-that she had inside her for Max.

  His lips were cool, and still, and dead feeling, but Liz didn't pull away. I love you, she thought. Can't you feel that? Remember? Remember?

  A hand wrapped itself in her hair. Another hand pressed itself against her back, urging her closer, closer, closer. Without breaking the kiss, Liz opened her eyes and looked into Max's eyes-bright and aware and full of love.

  She pulled back just enough to speak. "Oh, God, Max. You're all right!"

  "Maybe Alex knew what he was talking about when he called me Snow White," he said, his voice thick. "I just needed the right kiss."

  "You heard that?" Liz exclaimed. Then she kissed him again before he could answer, starving for the taste of him, wishing she could swallow him, absorb him, make him a part of her or become a part of him.

  "Yeah, I heard that," Max answered finally, breathless. "I heard everything. But… I'd given up trying to fight my way back. I was too deep. It was too far. Then I felt you kissing me. And I just-"

  He rolled her underneath him, stretching his body over hers. "Liz, there's so much I want to say. Need to say. About Adam. About how you were right about the consciousness all along. But I can't stop…" His mouth was on hers, desperate and fierce.

  Liz locked one of her legs over his, then slid both her hands under his shirt so she could feel his skin. Closer. She wanted to be even closer.

  "Max," she gasped, speaking his name against his lips.

  Suddenly his mouth went slack. It slipped away from hers, and Max's head fell against Liz's shoulder as if all the muscles in his neck had been cut.

  "Max!" Liz shouted. "Max!" His motionless body pinned her to the mattress, pressing down on her until she thought her heart and lungs would cease to function. "Max!" she screamed again.

  Suddenly she was free. She sat up and found Alex and Isabel pulling Max to the other side of the bed. "What happened?" Alex demanded. "Did he attack you?"

  "No." Liz shoved herself to her feet. "That's not…" She raised her fingers to her lips. They were still warm from Max's. "He kissed me."

  TEN

  Don't even think about demanding to know the exact meaning of "I'm thinking about it," Maria ordered herself. Don't even think about begging to know if he's going to go or if he's going to stay. She stared out at the straight stretch of highway leading to Albuquerque, not allowing herself even a sidelong, superfast peek at Michael. She could feel the questions on her tongue, crouched down, waiting to leap out.

  No. No, no, no, she thought. Remember the last time you decided to hand Michael an ultimatum-choose between me and Isabel right here, right now? Remember what a babbling, stammering, sweating hunk of patheticness you were that day? And remember how you so did not like what you heard? You were positive you'd feel better if you could just make Michael say something concrete. But you were wrong. Wrong to the power of infinity. So learn from your past mistakes. Even rats in mazes can learn from their mistakes, and so can you. Keep your mouth shut.

  Maria locked her teeth together. She crossed her legs. She crossed her arms. She tightened her muscles, using all her strength and will to not speak.

  "Do you need to stop?" Michael asked, not even looking at her. "There's a gas station in a couple of miles, I think."

  "Mmm-mmm," Maria answered, shaking her head. She didn't dare to allow herself any actual words.

  "Are you sure?" he pressed.

  "I'm not a toddler. I know if I have to pee or not, Michael, all right?" she blurted out. She clamped her teeth back together hard-and caught a tiny piece of her tongue between them. Do not attempt to speak again, she told herself. She'd felt this sucking sensation when she'd opened her mouth to make the pee announcement. If she hadn't gotten her lips together as fast as she had, a whole flood of words would have come rushing out. It would not have been pretty.

  Maria scrunched her jean jacket into a ball, propped it against the window, and rested her head on it. She wasn't kidding herself. She knew that there was no chance she'd fall asleep. But pretending to fall asleep would make it easier to keep the dam of her teeth closed tight against the words.

  She concentrated on keeping her breathing slow and even, which was the best way of appearing really zonked out, but for some reason the slower she breathed, the harder her heart pounded, slamming painfully against her ribs. It felt like it was trying to escape, to say the words she wouldn't allow her lips and tongue to form-Michael, what in the holy hell does "I'm thinking about it" mean? Are you going? Are you staying? And what about me?

  "We're here," Michael announced. Maria only opened her eyes after the car came to a complete stop, then she scrambled out of the passenger door and started toward the main entrance of the Bradley Institute without waiting for Michael.

  She rushed inside and over to the front desk. "I-we're-here to see Kyle Valenti," she said breathlessly, trying to concentrate on something other than the possibility that Michael was going to be living in another galaxy in the near future.

  "That's nice," the nurse answered with a way-too-big smile. "Kyle hasn't had many visitors. Just his aunt." She pushed a clipboard toward Maria. "I just need you to sign here."

  Maria did, then moved farther down the counter so Michael had room to sign as well. She caught a glimpse of his hands as he wrote and wished she hadn't. Just looking at them made her think about all kinds of things she didn't want to think about. Like the way they felt tangled in her hair. Or stroking her back. Not that his hands had been doing anything like that in a long time.

  "I'll buzz you in," the nurse said, pulling Maria away from her thoughts. "Kyle's in the common room. It's the second door to the left."

  Michael continued to trail along behind her, which wasn't exactly like him. Apparently he wasn't all that eager to talk to her, either. But why? She wasn't the one who was planning on deserting him.

  "This is the second door," Michael announced from behind her.

  "I knew that." Maria spun around and marched back down the hall to the second door. Michael opened it for her like she was some kind of invalid or something, and she strode through. She scanned the room and saw Kyle and a couple of older men parked on a ratty couch in front of the tube.

  "Kyle," she blurted out, her voice sounding oddly loud in the large room.

  Kyle looked up, but he didn't seem very excited to have visitors. He shoved himself to his feet and headed over to them.

  "What?" he demanded.

  "How have you been?" Maria said, suddenly nervous and wishing she'd thought to bring him some candy or something. Kyle wasn't one of her favorite people, but nobody should have to live in a place like this. It was clean, and the nurse had seemed friendly and all, but the place smelled… depressing. There was too much Pine Sol filling the air.

  "You did not come here to f
ind out how I've been," Kyle answered, voice flat. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. Maria had to concentrate to keep from taking a step back.

  "The guy who killed your father is dead," Michael said, voice low and intense.

  A flash of emotion-pain, anger, sorrow-burst across Kyle's face, then he tightened his lips and stared at them expressionlessly. "You didn't come here to tell me that, either. You want something."

  "You're right. I'm not going to try to feed you a load of bull," Michael answered. "We need the device-the one you used on the Stone that day."

  "Oh, sure. I have it right here in my pocket," Kyle said sarcastically.

  "This is important, Kyle," Maria told him, looking him in the eye. "Life and death."

  "Well, Liz should have thought about whether or not you would need me for anything before she got me shipped here," Kyle answered.

  "Liz didn't-" Maria protested.

  "Like hell she didn't," Kyle interrupted. "I got put on the express train to squirrelville the same day Liz told those reporters I hadn't been myself since my dad died. Coincidence? I don't think so."

  "What do you want, Valenti?" Michael demanded in a harsh whisper. "Money?"

  Kyle laughed, a laugh that went on way too long. Maybe the kid did belong in a loony bin. "Yeah. They have a great mall in here."

  "Then what?" Michael asked. Maria noticed his hands curling into fists. She wrapped her fingers around his arm, silently warning him not to lose his temper and trying to ignore the heat she could feel seeping from Michael's body into hers.

  "Oh, gosh. It looks like it's time for my meds." Kyle jerked his chin toward another nurse, who had begun moving through the room with a tray of little paper cups. "You'll have to excuse me." He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Maria and Michael staring after him helplessly.