by Andy Mangels
As they ran, they heard a revving engine and the echoing squeal of tires. The VW Microbus they had gotten from Jesse back in Roswell turned the corner moments later, with Kyle behind the wheel.
With a screech of the brakes, the van stopped near them. Michael flung open the side door and jumped in, followed by Isabel. Max took one last look toward the exit before he hopped into the van, and was dismayed to see that at least one agent had apparently jumped the gap in the demolished floor. One agent with a cell phone.
This wasn't over yet.
Roswell, New Mexico Roswell Sheriff's Deputy Jim Valenti was eating a pastrami sandwich at his desk, taking a late lunch. Sheriff Hanson regularly rotated his deputies, and today was Valenti's day to work in the office. As was typical, not much was happening. Dina Heikenberry had called in a few minutes ago to run some plates on a speeding car, and Glenn Carver had reported some teens motocrossing on Mesaliko Indian Reservation property.
With a quick glance around the office, Valenti tapped the trackball mouse on his desk, waking up the computer screen. Deftly using a menu, he scrolled down to a folder called "Games." He highlighted the mah-jongg game Shanghai and double-clicked, starting the program. In the "Layout" menu, he chose "Boar," and a black field quickly began to fill with colorful tiles.
Valenti placed his cursor over the lower left corner, where nothing was visible, and clicked. Immediately, a popup window appeared, reporting an error alert of "47" and displaying an empty dialogue box. He typed his password, "oneofus," and it launched a specially built e-mail application that began searching for incoming communications.
Three months ago, he had pulled over Gerry Ailston for weaving on the road. Ailston had consented to a search of his vehicle, and the deputy had found a small bag of marijuana. Not enough for a felony, but certainly a misdemeanor. But it was the laptop in the back of the car that especially had caught Valentis attention, as well as the bumper stickers that were… as he later found out… the obscure sayings of computer geeks.
Ailston had been a friend of Alex Whitmans in high school, and Valenti knew he was more of a maladjusted geek than a drug dealer or threat to the Roswellian way of life. Kyle had even mentioned once or twice what a genius Ailston was with computers.
After appropriately scaring Ailston and bringing out a set of handcuffs, Valenti stared at him closely. "I'll tell you what, Gerry. Seeing as how I don't think you're going to be driving under the influence again anytime soon, I'm going to let this one slide… if you do me a favor. A big favor. “
Ailston shifted nervously, his reddened eyes glancing side to side like a pair of trapped animals. "What kind of a… favor? “
"I need some computer help. Some top-secret help." The kid grinned, seeming to relax. "Ohhh, sure. I just thought… I mean… sure, I'll do any computer work you want. “
True to his word, Ailston had done so. Valenti knew he was being watched by the feds, so any contact he had with the cyber-talented teen was carried out very surreptitiously. Gerry had shown him some extremely neat computer tricks, and had built… to the deputy's exacting specifications… some customized applications for Internet access, text programs, and HTML coding. These applications enabled him to use the computers at work without anyone's knowledge. Valenti had the kid describe each step along the way, and even learned how to modify the programs himself.
Ailston had even… on Valenti's recommendation… been allowed to update the Web page for the Roswell Sheriffs Department. Nobody knew that Valenti's own page on the site was one portal, nor that the "Boar" configuration to Shanghai was another portal. Valenti had others, and only used the incoming portals for a week at a time. He knew the Special Unit… or whatever it was called… was keeping tabs on him, along with the Evans family, the Parkers, and Amy DeLuca. He wasn't certain that the computers at work were bugged, but he tried to be as careful as he could be regardless.
Now, the computer beeped at him and displayed three text e-mail files. He decrypted them, sent them to the printer, then tapped a couple of keys that re-encrypted the text messages. Anyone trying to recover them now without the encryption key would end up crashing the program for good.
As Valenti reached for the three printed pages, he chuckled to himself. I've been worried all this time about whether Kyle and I would develop alien powers the way Liz did ajter Max healed her. Maybe all this computer expertise is my new power.
He smiled as he looked at the three printouts. Each was an e-mail message… from Kyle, Maria, and Liz. A quick read told him that they were all okay. Good. Their parents will be happy to hear that. Now he would just have to wait until an appropriate time to start the delivery route. Dinner at the Crashdown with an extra-special tip might just be the ticket tonight.
He slipped the papers into a pile of his other paperwork, then grabbed his sandwich for another bite.
Kyle's all right, he thought, grinning again.
Cheyenne, Wyoming Liz watched Kyle spin the wheel, making the van lurch to the side and screech down a curving ramp. She attempted to keep her balance in the back, but she fell against the side wall, the still-unconscious Maria moving with her.
"Ow!" Liz exclaimed as she tried to steady herself. Everyone else who was conscious grabbed hold of whatever they could to stay steady.
"Sorry about that," Kyle yelled back. "But if we don't get out of here soon, we probably never will. “
"The last agent I just saw had a cell phone," Max said, pulling the back window blind aside so he could look out. "Keep an eye out in case we pick up a tail. “
"Got it," Isabel said, shifting in the front passengers seat.
Michael looked toward Liz and Maria. Liz could see that Michael's attention was torn between his urge to stand and fight and his need to get the girl he loved to safety.
"I think she'll be fine," Liz said, smoothing Maria's hair away from her closed eyes. "Her pulse is strong, and she's groaned a few times. Maybe she'll be coming around soon. “
"Good," Michael said. He looked vulnerable for a moment, a side that most of them rarely ever saw. Then, setting his jaw with grim determination, he moved to the back of the van, where he crouched beside Max.
"Hold on, everybody!" Kyle yelled. Moments later, the van turned sharply again, tires screaming.
"They're blocking the exit!" Isabel said, pointing straight ahead. Liz could only wonder what obstacle fate had dropped into their path this time.
"We've got a car on our tail too," Max said.
"Ever see that Blues Brothers movie?" Kyle asked as the van continued toward the waiting cars. "Maybe I should take a detour through the mall. “
Liz scowled. "Focus, Zen master," she said.
"This is going to be tight," Kyle said, ignoring the reprimand. Grabbing one of the van's walls, Liz moved up onto her knees, just in time to see through the windshield that they were facing certain doom. A pair of police squad cars was parked nose-to-nose in the driveway of the mall lot. But there was an escape route.
Kyle took it. Veering to the side, the van smashed through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of a store display at the corner of the mall. Mannequins dressed in mall couture were knocked aside like bowling pins. The right-side wheels of the van ran up onto the raised floor, and for a fleeting second, Liz was terrified that the vehicle would flip over.
The moment was brief, and before the glass and mannequins had hit the ground behind them, the van had landed on the sidewalk, then the street. Revving the engine, Kyle began speeding down the street, directly toward an intersection.
Liz saw Kyle's grin reflected at her in the rear-view mirror. "We're on a mission from God," he said, quoting The Blues Brothers. Before Liz could reach forward and slap him on the back of the head, he added, "Four-way light coming up. Which way? “
Liz turned to see Max cursing under his breath. He was still looking through the back window shade. "We've got at least one car tailing us, and they're going to call reinforcements. Take whatever way will get us to hiding. �
�
"That's helpful," Kyle muttered, then slammed the pedal to the floor. Liz nearly fell over from the acceleration.
The van came to a red light, but Kyle barely slowed before merging into the somewhat dense traffic headed to the right. "Liz heard angry honks and brakes squealing, and realized that no matter how deftly Kyle had moved the van, the lives of innocent bystanders were at risk. Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes. Why won't they just leave us alone? She knew that the answer could be summed up in a single word: "fear." She had felt that fear, as had Maria and Kyle and Alex and Sheriff Valenti. Sure, their friends had grown to understand that the half-aliens who lived among them meant no harm. Most of the time, they didn't even want to be aliens. But in the beginning, she, too, had experienced that very same fear. So how could she blame others now for reacting in the same way? "They're still on us," Max said, looking out the back window. "Eight cars back and gaining." Just then, Liz could hear the rising wail of a siren.
Liz decided to pay more attention to what was ahead than what lay behind. Looking forward, she watched as Isabel scanned through the scratched windshield, then pointed out to Kyle's left.
"Up there," Isabel said. "If you can get in front of that semi, you can use it to block them and make a turn. “
Honking the horn, Kyle accelerated the van. Liz could see that cars were pulling to the side to let them pass, and then she saw the truck Isabel was talking about.
Moments later, Kyle swerved in front of the truck. In the back, Michael jumped as the truck blew its air horn, its brakes squealing. Through the windows, Liz could see its front grille looming behind them, much too close for comfort.
"Hang on," Kyle said again, swerving the van. Liz saw a yellow light flash by as he turned, apparently racing through another intersection. The minibus shuddered, tires scratching rubber across the asphalt, but kept its balance and much of its forward momentum.
Then Liz heard an impact, followed by the unmistakable grinding sound of metal on metal. For a moment she wondered if something had blown up in the van's engine, like the time they'd all been stranded in the little town of Stonewall.
Liz turned to see both Michael and Max glued to the windows. "What happened?" she asked, her voice more shrill than she wanted it to be.
"We just lost our pursuer," Max said. "Literally. They hit an SUV “
"Ouch," Kyle said. "Let that be a lesson to both alien-hunters and gas guzzlers. “
"Anyone else following us?" Isabel asked.
"No, but we still have to get to safety. Find us a place to hide, Kyle," Max said, his voice firm and in control. He wasn't just requesting it; he was commanding it. Despite his protestations to the contrary, Liz knew that at times like these, his leadership instincts simply took over. She didn't mind. It felt right. She turned back toward the front of the van.
"You got it, Max," Kyle said, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
Liz heard a groan behind her and turned to see Maria groggily waking up. Michael moved swiftly over to her side.
"Wha… what happened?" she asked weakly. "Did I just miss the really exciting part? “
Perhaps ironically, Kyle found refuge for the Microbus behind an abandoned church. The driveway was blocked by a fence, but it was easily unlocked with a flick of Isabel's hand.
Because of his automotive expertise, Kyle took the lead in all matters related to the care and feeding of the van. The first order of business was disguising it. While Max and Michael changed the color of the paint… their slightly glowing palms wiping the vehicle's light green away in favor of a dull red… Isabel used her powers to mend the nicks and dents in the windshield and body of the van. It wasn't the first time they had recolored their transportation, but it was the most extensive body-repair they'd ever had to do.
Looking briefly at the engine, Kyle was relieved to discover that nothing essential had been broken during the chase.
So jar, he thought.
Michael knew how tired he was, and imagined that Max and Isabel were probably feeling every bit as drained as he was. He knew that using their powers as much as they had today generally required a good eight-hour sleep for a complete recharge. But he also knew that they might not have that much time.
We have to disguise ourselves and get outta Dodge, he thought. They hadn't fully discussed what had just happened, or its ramifications, but this had been far too close a call.
Michael was getting really tired of running from the government, from other aliens, from whoever happened to be hunting them or haunting them from week to week. More and more he wondered if his instincts and his past as Rath, leader of the Antarian military forces, might not be catching up with him. How much longer am I going to be able to hold back? When do all of us finally decide to fight back? While Kyle checked the engine and the rest of the van for any other damage, Liz was taking care of Maria, who sat, looking weathered, in the front passenger seat. Michael could tell that the taser had really knocked her for a loop, and he wondered if the setting might not have been higher than normal; it seemed to have done quite a number on Isabel as well, at least at the mall.
Walking the length of the van, Michael squatted near the bumper, beside Max. "What do you want the plates to say, Maxwell?" he asked.
Max looked over at the church, then back again. "Only seven letters. C-A-T-H-L-I-C. If they think we're good Christians, maybe they won't take any special notice of our van." He thought for a moment, then added, "And change the state to California. “
Michael smiled, then moved his hand over the formed metal of the rear plate. With a few small pops and pings, the lettering reshaped itself into the requested words. He also changed the registration tag's month and year, then stood and walked back around to the van's front to change the other plate.
On the way, he leaned through the passenger-side window. "Hey," he said simply to Maria. Liz gave her friend a water bottle, then exited through the van's other side and wandered away. The radio chattered in the background.
"Hi, Spaceboy," Maria said, managing a weak smile.
"How are you feeling?" He reached forward and stroked her arm.
"Like hell. I keep shivering, but I'm not cold, and I've got this twitch in my eye, and I think that FBI zapgun gave me split ends." She offered a wobbly smile, then tears welled up in her eyes. She leaned forward, and Michael enfolded her in his arms.
"It's okay," he said softly, his hand stroking her neck and back. "You'll feel better soon. And Isabel can fix your hair. Or I can if you really want, but that might be scarier than dealing with the split ends. “
Michael was gratified to hear Maria's light laughter, which was muffled by his shoulder. She didn't pull away, and moments later, he realized she was crying again. He held her tighter, willing her to feel his love and his resolve that everything really was going to be all right.
After a minute or so had passed, Maria let go and sat straighter in the seat. She wiped under her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffled a bit. "I'm sorry. It must be the jolt of juice that made me so emotional. “
Michael restrained himself from saying what he thought: You're always emotional. Instead he just stroked her arm with his hand. When he sensed she was steady enough, he said, "I need to go finish with the license plates. You gonna be okay? “
She nodded, and he moved to the front of the VW, where Isabel was finished with the dent repairs, and Kyle was fiddling with the bent windshield wipers.
As Michael crouched in front of the license plate, he said, "Nice driving job, Valenti. “
Kyle looked down at him, a frustrated look on his face. "Hey, if you think you could have done better… " His face changed as Michael looked at him with sincerity. "Oh. Thanks. “
Michael began reshaping the license letters. "I couldn't have done better," he said. "At least not in this vehicle. Give me a bike and I could've escaped with a few less bruises and scrapes. But you got all of us out of the frying pan. “
He didn't loo
k up, but he knew Kyle was probably gaping at him because of this uncharacteristic compliment. Michael knew he was generally the most contrary of the six of them. But sometimes it just seemed right to go against the grain and be a nice guy. Besides, Kyle had done a good job.
"Everybody, get over here!" It was Liz's voice, and she sounded alarmed.
Michael, Kyle, Isabel, and Max converged at the side of the van within seconds. Maria was leaning into the vehicle, her hand on the radio's volume knob. She was listening intently "What is it?" Max asked.
"It's not good news," Maria said gravely.
7 New York City
Rath donned the unconscious riot cop's uniform and all its accoutrements in a small office he'd found in a quiet corner of the warehouse. The uniform and body armor fit a little snugly, but a judicious application of his nearly depleted powers quickly fixed the problem.
Remember the cop's face, Rath thought before exiting the office and hiding his own features… as well as his decidedly uncoplike haircut… beneath the black riot helmet. Running through the warehouse to catch up to the other members of the SWAT team, he tried to hang on to a mental picture of the slumbering cop's face. Might need to copy that mug in a hurry if anybody decides to take a peek under this Darth Vader mask.
But Rath sincerely hoped his limited morphing abilities wouldn't be put to that sort of test. His shapeshifting talents had so far been limited to superficial surface characteristics, such as facial features, hair, and clothing. He was glad he'd been able to steal a disguise, because in his present condition he doubted he could muster enough energy to morph his body for very long.
Rath soon found himself standing in the weed-strewn parking lot that bounded one side of the abandoned warehouse building, in the midst of more than a dozen riot cops. Under the bright summer sun, he saw immediately that Lonnie and Ava were there as well, their arms handcuffed behind their backs. Low-flying helicopters maneuvered overhead, as though searching for something or someone, churning the air into a stiff wind. Every nerve ending in Rath's body screamed, Danger! He wanted to make a run for the girls, but restrained himself. He knew he hadn't had enough time yet to recover from the battle against the freaks, and the girls must have been similarly depleted to have been caught so fiat-footed. Rath knew that if their powers had been at their peak, Ava could probably have Jedi Knighted the cops into letting the three of them slip away unnoticed, just another trio of nameless, faceless rats bound for the sewers they called home.
