by Melinda Metz
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.
“There’s nothing we can do,” Liz said, hating to admit it. At that moment all she really wanted to do was run after Maria — get the heck out of here ASAP. “We just have to wait and hope Michael decides to contact us.”
Adam took her hand and twined her fingers with his. Liz caught another flash of emotion from Max. She automatically started to pull her hand away. Max had enough to deal with right now.
But as she watched, his eyes went dull and lifeless, his mouth slackening. Liz tightened her fingers around Adam’s and tried to think only about the feeling of his warm hand.
Maria pulled the Jeep up to the mall entrance closest to the movie theater, tires squealing.
“That’s not a parking place,” someone shouted. She didn’t answer. She ran to the doors and burst into the mall, then raced down the walkway to the movie theater, through those doors, and straight past the usher.
“I didn’t see a ticket,” he called after her.
“I don’t have one,” Maria answered, heading toward the closest of the multiplex’s screens. The usher snagged her by the elbow.
“You’re not going anywhere without a ticket,” he said.
Why couldn’t it be someone from school? she thought. Why did it have to be some Guffman High guy who acted like having a flashlight was only one step down from a badge and a gun?
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Maria told him, going into full Arnold mode. “I’m checking each theater until I find my friend, then we are both leaving.”
“You are not —,” the movie cop began.
“If you don’t let go of my arm, I’m going to start screaming about roaches in my popcorn and a rat tail in my Twizzlers and —”
The Guffman kid turned a red that perfectly matched his cheesy uniform vest. “Fine. Okay. You can go in,” he said quickly, releasing her elbow. “But don’t bother any of the other paying customers.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” Maria said over her should
er. She plunged through the closest double doors and waited impatiently for her eyes to adjust. Then she scanned the rows for Alex. The theater was packed. It was going to take way too long.
Maria marched to the front of the theater and positioned herself in front of the screen, ignoring the popcorn, Hot Tamales, and Junior mints that immediately started flying at her. “Alex Manes, if you’re in here, you have three seconds to get your butt into the lobby.”
She didn’t see anyone stand up, so she bolted back down the aisle, her feet making sucking sounds where someone had spilled a giant soda, and flew back into the lobby. The next auditorium was playing a Julia Roberts flick. Perfect date bait, she thought. This is where he’ll be.
This time she didn’t bother going to the front of the theater. She just swung open the doors and bellowed, “Alex Manes. I know you’re in there. Get your skinny white butt out here — now!”
A tall figure in the back row stood up. “Maria?”
“That’s right. I need to talk to you,” she yelled.
“Is that your girlfriend or something?” a female voice asked over the shouts of “shut up” from the rest of the audience.
“No, I’m his mother,” Maria called back. “And I’m taking him home.”
Alex sidestepped out of the row of seats and reached Maria in four long strides. He propelled her back into the lobby and closed the door behind them.
“What is your problem?” he demanded.
“My problem is that just because you happen to have become a babe, you’ve totally forgotten who your friends really are,” Maria snapped.
“And I should do what? Spend every second with the UFO-lovers club?” Alex demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.
“What you should do is stop thinking with whatever it is you’ve been thinking with and start thinking with your brain.” Maria roughly brushed some popcorn crumbs off the front of his sweater. “We need you, Alex.”
He pulled two Hot Tamales out of her hair, not bothering to be gentle. “I’m not helping you go after DuPris, if that’s what this is about,” Alex answered, his voice low. “There is nothing we can do against his power. We —”
“This isn’t about DuPris. It’s about Isabel,” Maria told him.
Some of the color instantly left Alex’s face, and Maria knew she had his attention.
“Tell me,” he demanded. He pulled her over to one of the padded benches in front of the bathrooms, as far away from the usher as they could get.
“She entered her akino, which you’d know if you hadn’t decided to become Roswell’s own sex bunny,” Maria said.
“It’s the girls who are the bunnies,” Alex corrected, rubbing the back of his neck. “Did Isabel make the connection to the consciousness?”
“No. She refused.” Maria felt un-Arnold tears sting her eyes. “Isabel and Michael took off somewhere without the communication crystals. She’s out there someplace dying, and we don’t know how to find her.”
“Oh, my God,” Alex said, his face almost completely white. “I still don’t know what you want me to do, but I’m there.”
Maria gave him a fast hug. “I knew you would be.” She checked over her shoulder to make sure the usher wasn’t listening. He was twirling his flashlight like a cowboy and replacing it in an imaginary holster. Not a problem.
“When we were trying to get you back from you know where, your father found DuPris before we did,” Maria explained. “He must have some kind of Clean Slate tracking device. You’ve got to get it from him.”
Alex nodded. “It’s not going to be easy. My dad has refused to answer even one question about his connection to Clean Slate. But I’ll get it done.”
He stood up and pulled Maria to her feet, and they headed for the exit. “You’ll have to drive me.”
“Oh, your girls pick you up, huh, stud?” Maria teased, relief making her giddy. “Wait a sec,” she said as they reached the doors. She hurried over to the concession stand and grabbed a handful of napkins. The usher looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t.
Maria rushed back over to Alex and handed him the napkins. He raised an eyebrow at her.
“I know your dad well enough to be sure he’s not going to want to listen to you if you have lipstick all over your face,” she explained.
Michael watched Isabel sleep, hoping it was only sleep, hoping she hadn’t slipped into unconsciousness. His arm was numb beneath her shoulders, and his right leg was cramping from his awkward position lying on the edge of the twin bed, but he didn’t move. He wanted to stay as close to Isabel as he could get. Just listening to her breathe those horrible wheezing breaths. Knowing she was still with him.
She rolled her head toward him, sending pins and needles through his numb arm.
“You awake?” he asked softly.
“Barely,” she answered. “I was having this dream . . . where I was being buried . . . in the sand. At first it . . . was fun, but all the little grains kept . . . coming down, and then I could . . . hardly breathe.”
“I want to connect with you. I know I can’t really heal you, but maybe I can make you feel a little better,” Michael told her. He wished he could somehow pull her pain into his own body. It hurt more to see Izzy hurting than it would to actually experience the physical sensations himself.
“Okay,” Isabel answered. Michael inched his arm out from under her, then moved the covers down a little and placed his hands on her chest, just below her throat.
“Your hands are . . . like Trevor’s,” she murmured. She paused to take a breath. “Or his are . . . like yours. I noticed that . . . when we danced.”
Was she totally out of it now? Did she even know what she was saying?
“At the party . . . in the museum,” she continued. “I thought . . . maybe Trevor and I . . . he’s like you . . . but without the . . . feels-like-my-brother thing.”
“Don’t waste your breath talking about that,” Michael told her. “Don’t talk at all right now. Let me make the connection.”
All he had to do was think the name Isabel, and a rush of images swept over him. Many of the images were almost as familiar to him as those from his own life because so much of his life had been spent with Isabel.
A glistening ship with shimmering sides that looked almost liquid. Max laughing. A sizzling rainbow of auras in a cave. Michael running his hands through his hair. A burned doll.
And he was in. Connected. His second heartbeat was pounding so quickly, it scared him.
Slowly Michael used his mind to examine her body — their body. The contrast between her internal organs and his own was so huge that Michael almost had to break the connection. If she can feel it, you can look at it, he told himself.
The texture of her lungs looked like old paper. As if they might disintegrate into dust at a single touch. He didn’t want to risk even brushing them with his mind. A survey of her other organs showed Michael they were all in a similar condition. He carefully allowed the connection to slip, splitting them into separate beings again.
“Couldn’t do anything?” Isabel asked.
Michael shook his head. As he looked down at her, he also saw the little girl Isabel, the little girl who’d adored him, who’d been so sure he could do anything.
What a laugh, he thought.
“Not your fault . . . stupid,” Isabel said.
She’d always been able to know pretty much what he was thinking. Today he didn’t think that was a good thing. What she had to deal with was enough. She didn’t need all his fear and garbage dumped on her. “Think you could . . . find Trevor?” Isabel asked. “Maybe he could help.”
“He’s with DuPris,” Michael reminded her.
“I know,” Isabel answered. Her chapped lips began to bleed again. “But I need . . . I need you to . . . find him.”
Alex hesitated outside the door to his father’s study, his heart fluttering nervously.
“No guts, no glory,” he muttered, lifting his hand and knocking confidentl
y. When his father called, “Come in,” Alex straightened his spine and squared his shoulders, shooting for the posture his militaryman dad preferred. Well, preferred was an understatement. More like demanded. Then he stepped inside.
“I thought you were at the movies,” his father said, glancing up at Alex.
“I was, but something came up,” Alex answered. “Something I need to talk to you about.”
The Major looked surprised — or what passed for surprised, considering the way he kept his emotions locked down. Alex understood why. He and the old man weren’t exactly known for their heart-to-heart talks. They’d basically had one — when Alex made it back from the aliens’ home planet. They’d had this short but intense conversation about how Alex’s dad had been trying to bring him back. That revelation had totally blown Alex away — and not just because his dad had revealed that he was a Project Clean Slate agent — but because he’d revealed the depth of his love for Alex.
“Go ahead,” the Major said. He gestured at the chair in front of his desk. Alex settled in, trying to keep from nervously jerking his leg up and down. This room and this chair gave him a Pavlov’s-dog reaction. In the past he’d only been in this location when he’d been getting reamed by his dad for doing something wrong.
“You remember Isabel Evans, right? She came to dinner that one time?” Alex asked, veering away from the most direct route to what he needed to say.
“Charming girl,” the Major replied.
Alex couldn’t help smiling, remembering how Isabel had impressed the hell out of his father and two of his brothers. They couldn’t believe little Alex had hooked up with a girl like her.
“Yeah. Well, when you were, uh, looking for me, I know you found out the, um, truth about her.” Alex decided to avoid speaking the alien word. Project Clean Slate people probably didn’t call them that, anyway. Alex figured they had to have an acronym. The military had an acronym for everything.
“I’ve told you that everything regarding that subject is classified to the highest level,” Alex’s father said. He sat up straighter than any human being with a spine made of bone should be able to sit.
