by Kevin Ryan
Death would come again to this house. It seemed… unfair. Isabel thought of the Bentons, living, laughing, loving, and then dying here. Then there was a subtle shift
in the energy of the room again. Suddenly Isabel had the feeling that she and Nicholas weren't alone anymore. She had had the feeling before in this house, and she knew where it came from… she felt where it came from.
They were not alone. The house was still full of life. It had always been full, even in the dark days since a mother and children had succumbed to a terrible disease here, since a father had grieved here. They had all left something of themselves in this place.
Isabel felt her strength return, then grow. The tide of the battle was changing again, and Isabel knew she wasn't the one doing it. Someone understood what Nicholas was, and didn't want him in this house.
With a single burst, Isabel pushed with all of her will and there was an explosion of light that illuminated the room. Before it could dim, she could see Nicholas flying backward, across the room and through the great windows and the sheet of plastic that covered them.
Then it was silent, and the room was dim.
She felt exhausted and was tempted to just let herself fall to the floor, but she had to make sure…
Isabel stumbled to the open window and saw the place where Nicholas had landed on the ground. The overgrown grass was bent down, but he was gone. Then she saw his dark figure stagger across the field toward the garage and it disappeared.
She considered going after him, but Isabel knew she would not get far, so she just stood and waited. A few seconds later, headlights that illuminated the darkness and an SUV crashed through the gate its way out. The taillights faded as it headed down the road.
Nicholas was still alive, but she knew he wouldn't bother them again tonight, or anytime soon. Though she was sure they would see him again, she had the feeling that he would never return to this house. Had he felt the other presence in the room? Had he felt its judgment?
It was crazy to think it, but Isabel was certain chat it was true. She had had help in her fight against Nicholas, in her fight for the only family she had ever known. And that help had come from someone who knew something about loss and had seen enough of death.
Unable to stand anymore, Isabel felt herself drift down to the hospital bed nearby. Then she closed her eyes and slept.
Sometime later, someone came to get her. Strong arms picked her up off the bed and carried her to another bed. It might have been Max, or Michael, or Kyle. She wasn't sure, but it was someone who cared for her.
It was one of her family.
20
It was less than four hours until sunup, and more than once in that time, Liz was not sure that Max was going to make it. There were cuts and scrapes on his body, but they were superficial. His problems were deeper, impossible for her to see. He was hot, and she knew that was not good for him. Healing Nicholas… bringing that monster back from the brink of death… and then fighting him had cost Max a part of himself.
Isabel and Michael were depleted as well, but Liz saw that they would be all right. Isabel slept peacefully in the double bed next to Max's. Her color was good, and Liz did not think there was anything wrong with her that rest would not cure.
Michael was another story. He didn't have much strength, and he had a number of cuts and bruises, including a long and deep one on his back. Max would be able to take care of them easily, if he recovered. When he recovers, Liz thought. She couldn't help but think of the irony of the situation: The person best able to help someone in Max's
condition was Max, but he could not heal himself… at least not until he was awake, and himself again.
During the few remaining hours of night, Michael had insisted on sitting up and watching over Max and Isabel, which he did from a large, winged-back chair near the door. He's standing guard, Liz had realized. Maria sat on the floor, resting on Michael's leg. She was standing guard, too, Liz saw. Maria had thrown a blanket over Michael and had brought him food, which he refused, and water, which he took. Kyle had paced continually, never straying far from Isabel.
Liz tried to keep Max cool with cold compresses, and by the time the first rays of light shone through the window, his temperature was normal. He was still unconscious, but he would take small sips of water through his dry lips, and Liz started to relax. By the time the sun was up fully, Max's color was back to normal, and he seemed to be only sleeping.
When that happened, Michael finally fell asleep in the chair. They had tried to move him a number of times, but he had shaken them off. Finally, they left him in the chair. Then Maria climbed into the chair next to him and fell asleep there as well.
"Why don't you get some sleep, Liz," Kyle suggested. "He's going to be fine," he added, gesturing to Max.
Liz nodded and climbed under the blanket that now covered Max. Within-seconds she was asleep, and she didn't wake again until it was dark. By then, Isabel was up and she, Liz, and Maria managed to maneuver Michael into the other bed. A couple of hours later, Michael woke up.
Max slept through the night again. Liz fell asleep sometime later. In the morning, Liz felt something on her face. A soft touch. Her eyes opened and saw Max looking down on her, smiling. Then he kissed her. She gave in to the kiss, then broke away to examine him. He looked a little worn and still tired, but he was alive. Liz clutched him tightly and said a silent prayer of thanks.
"I'm okay, Liz. I'm okay," he said, then he kissed her again.
Maria's voice broke the moment. "Okay, break it up, no public displays in the creepy old mansion."
Liz smiled and looked at her friend. Maria was beaming. She was also dressed and clean. So were Isabel, Kyle, and Michael. And so was Max, for that matter. Both his and Michael's cuts were gone, and Liz assumed that Max had healed them. He really was better… almost himself, she could see.
"Come on, Parker," Maria said. "Chop, chop, we don't get out of here until you get yourself ready."
"Actually, I was thinking we could stay a while, at least another day," Isabel said.
"Why?" Michael asked.
Isabel was quiet for a moment, then she said, "Gee, I don't know. Let's see, spend the next day and night in a stinky old van with five other people, or stay in a mansion stocked with food and drink."
"Yeah, but…," Maria started to say.
"We should have a party. This place was built for parties," Isabel said.
"What if he comes back?" Michael asked.
"He won't, I'm sure of it," Isabel said.
"Maybe we should vote on it," Max said. "Sorry Max, this isn't a democracy," Isabel said. "I guess it's a party, then," Michael said.
Isabel spent the morning going through the house and using her powers to clean up and repair the damage done from the night before. She wanted to erase any sign that Nicholas had been here. She found two cast-iron pokers imbedded in the hallway walls upstairs. Then there was the infirmary, which she hadn't wanted to enter at first.
Inside, she found that the room didn't give her the bad feeling it had the first time she had seen it. It just seemed empty now, and peaceful. She repaired the broken window easily and picked up the few things that had been displaced.
She thought the Bentons would approve.
Isabel went down to the basement and stood there for a long time before she walked through the door and down the staircase into the sub-basement. She considered getting Max or Michael to come with her, but she didn't think she could explain to them why she was doing what she was about to do.
In the end, she had steeled herself and walked quickly down the stairs. Inside the lab, she summoned her powers and went to work. She melted all of the equipment and pods, fusing them into unrecognizable masses of rubble. For a moment, she worried that she might be giving the Special Unit something to study. Then she realized that when she was finished, they would know less about what happened here if they came looking, not more.
She wished she could fill in the space, but sh
e had to satisfy herself with destroying everything that he had
brought into this house. Stepping back into the basement, she pulled concrete from the surrounding walls to cover up the place where the door had been. Now, no one could tell anything had ever been there.
Then she turned and headed upstairs. In the kitchen, the others were getting ready to cook. Michael carried in some frozen meat from the walk-in freezer. Kyle brought in armfuls of food from the pantry.
"I don't want to speculate on your friends the Skins' diet and biology, but Nicholas sure did pack a lot of beans. I mean, you wouldn't believe it," he said.
They all laughed, even Isabel, and the laughter felt good. It belonged in this house. They spent the afternoon cooking and set the table with china and crystal that had been lovingly maintained but not used in many years, Isabel guessed. Michael had wanted them to use their powers to prepare the food. Isabel refused to allow it. Though it was quicker, it never tasted the same.
After their meal, they gathered around the fire in the great room. The boys had found some snacks and they had talked and laughed. Then Maria began to play the guitar and sing.
Isabel lost track of time. It was a party, a real party with friends who felt at home with one another in a place that was beautiful and comfortable. As the night drew to a close, Isabel had the feeling that there were five more guests at the party, five people she and her friends couldn't see.
Isabel imagined that three of those people were up past their bedtime, but had gotten special permission from their parents. When the fire finally went out, Isabel said a silent thanks to the Bentons and headed up the stairs.
"Okay Max, open your eyes," Liz said, and Max did. She was once again wearing her new black nightgown.
He smiled. "Nice surprise," he said, unable to take his eyes off of her.
"I take it that the king approves?" she said.
"Liz, I'm not the king," he replied. "I'm nobody's leader."
"You're mine, you're all of ours," she countered.
"Your visions have told you how that's going to turn out," he said.
"No, Max, it's not. We're going to change that. You're going to change that," she said.
"How? I couldn't save you from Nicholas. In fact, it was you, and Michael, and Isabel…," he said, feeling flush with the memory of his failure.
"No, Max, we helped, and you gave us that chance. It's not all about you, you know," she said.
"I thought I was king," he teased.
Then Liz's face became serious. "Like it or not, Max, you're the leader of this group, and part of that leadership is to let some of us do something once in a while. You can't put it all on your shoulders. It's not fair to you, or to us." Max started to argue, but she shushed him. "You said it yourself once: You have to use your powers more. You're stronger than you were when I met you. All three of you are."
"What about you?" he asked. He had seen some of what she did, and Michael had told him the rest.
"Even me," she said, and added, "I'll help out when I can."
She was amazing. She had saved them all by freeing
Michael and keeping Nicholas off balance long enough for Michael and Isabel to recover.
"I guess that makes you the power behind the throne," he said. She smiled again… brightly, brilliantly, beautifully. "That makes you queen," he said.
Her smile turned coy. "Would you deny your queen anything?"
He shook his head.
She pulled him closer and said, "Then I have my first royal request."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, and then he kissed her.
"You know, Spaceboy, you just proved my point," Maria said as they entered the bedroom.
"What?" he said, already not liking her tone. As usual, it had come out of nowhere.
"What do you mean, "what"? You and Nicholas, mano a mono, throwing yourself in front of trouble," she said, shaking her head. "This is just the kind of thing I was talking about. You're Sonny Corleone, a walking time bomb."
"Well, I mean, what was I supposed to do?" Michael sputtered.
"You're supposed to stay out of trouble," she said.
Michael felt the hair on the back of his neck prick up as the blood rushed to his face. "In case you weren't paying attention, he was going to kill all of us. That's the kind of trouble that's hard to avoid. And what about you? What about taking an iron poker and trying to brain him with it? At least I have powers," he said.
"That was completely different," she said, with an air of finality.
"How?" he demanded.
"It just was," she said.
"Look Maria, everybody dies, but not everybody… "
"Don't!" she shouted at him. "Don't give me that macho crap."
"Look, I don't want to lose you. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, ever, if I can help it," he said.
Maria paused, and then threw her arms around him. "I thought I was going to lose you," she said.
He held her quietly for a long moment and then whispered, "You're not going to get rid of me that easily."
Pulling back, he looked at her and wiped the tears from her face. "Look Maria, everybody does die, but not everybody has a girl like you. In fact, I'm the only one, and I'm not going to let anyone get in the way of that. If that means taking out the odd alien in human form, then so be it. But whatever happens, you are not getting rid of me."
"Michael," she said softly, then she kissed him. A moment later, she pulled away and disappeared into the bathroom. When she emerged, she was wearing something black, and small.
Very small.
"Wow," was all he could say.
"It's a surprise," she said. "For you."
"But I didn't get you anything," he replied, approaching her. Then she was in his arms, and he felt himself getting lost.
"You'll have to make it up to me, then," she said.
Epilogue
After Isabel stowed her things in the van, she went back into the master bedroom and found the journal on the floor beside the bed. Picking it up, she placed it carefully on the shelf with the others.
She wondered why Robert Benton had shown it to her… she no longer doubted that that was exactly what had happened. Had he wanted her to know their story? Had he tried to warn her? To tell her something? She wasn't sure, but she was glad he had done it.
The upstairs was empty, and she walked through the family's bedrooms, lingering in Sarah's room, where the rocking horse sat. They were here, she realized. They were still in this house, together now, and it was a good place to be.
Comfortable, she thought. And happy.
But there was just one more thing she had to do, and she knew she had to hurry; the others would be ready soon. She headed out the back door, and into the backyard, though grounds was a more accurate word.
She walked in the field for a short time, explored it for a few minutes. Then she saw a grassy hill to the side. On a hunch, she walked over to it.
At the top near a large shade tree she found what she was looking for. There were five headstones. She read the dates. Four of them were decades old. One was much newer. There it was, the proof of everything she had thought and felt about this house and the people who had lived in it.
But she had not needed proof. She had merely wanted to understand something. To say thank you to Robert Ben-ton, who she now knew had no doubt saved her life and the lives of all of her friends. Isabel fell to her knees on the ground in front of the graves, in the wildflowers that grew on this hill but apparently nowhere else that she could see.
That did not surprise her. In fact, it made its own sense in the way this house made its own sense.
The tears came suddenly, and Isabel did not try to stop them. She cried for a mother and her children who had been taken by disease. She cried for a father who had lost everything but the memory of his family… a memory that had had to sustain him for fifty years of life alone in an empty house.
She cried for herself and the life she had left behind in Ros
well. She cried for her parents and for Jesse who had loved her and whom she had loved. Then she did something she had not done since she had lost him. Isabel cried for Alex, who had been a better person than she was and who had died too soon. He had died before she could tell him anything, before she could give him what he wanted from her and what he had deserved.
As the ground soaked up her tears, she remembered what he had said to her: "It's getting late."
Late for her? Late for him?
Isabel wasn't sure what the answer was. She guessed that part of it was that she needed to let him go. Was that one of the things Robert Benton was trying to communicate? Isabel knew she wasn't ready, but she also knew the time would come.
Though the tears had started abruptly, they ended slowly. Finally, she heard voices calling her name and she rose to her feet. She took a last look at the Bentons' final resting place, then turned to walk down the hill.
She saw them all waiting for her by the van. There was music, loud music, coming from the van.
Michael and his heavy metal, she thought, shaking her head.
She brushed away a final tear and then heard Kyle say, "Come on, Stinky Van Express is about to pull out."
Isabel smiled. Then she ran to join her friends.
About the author
Kevin Ryan is the author of the Roswell book A New Beginning. He has also written three novels for the best-selling Star Trek series and cowritten another. In addition, Kevin has published a number of comic books and has written for television. He lives in New York with his wife and four children, and can be reached at [email protected].
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