by Andy Mangels
"What?" Kyle said. "What are you smiling about? “
Isabel hadn't realized she'd been smiling. "Oh, nothing," she said, quickly altering her expression to neutral. She let her power flow through her hands, changing the colors and length of Kyle's hair. Almost instantly, it became shorter and lighter, and she gave it a bit of a wave.
Finished with that part of her task, she moved her fingertips to his upper lip. She could feel his warm exhalations as she did so, and the sensation kindled memories of warmth and intimacy. But not with Kyle. With Jesse.
But Kyle's breath felt warm like Jesse's, and his lips as soft…
She shook her head almost imperceptibly refocusing her attention on her task. Kyle's follicles were stimulated, and the mustache and goatee suddenly grew quite full under her touch. She concentrated a bit harder, and the pigment in the facial hair itself changed to a light blond. The hair felt soft under her fingers, and she had to admit that it did look flattering on Kyle's angular face, Maria's snarky comment notwithstanding. "All done," she said, moving her hands away.
Kyle touched her hands momentarily. "Thanks," he said quietly.
As Kyle and Max went to retrieve the money from Michael, Isabel noticed that Liz was staring at her rather intently. Isabel turned and walked away, toward a small grassy hillock under some trees.
She sat down and stretched her legs out, rolling her shoulders to work out the tension. Even though it had been hours since the ordeal at the mall, Isabel still didn't feel quite right.
"Hey," Liz called from nearby. She had approached so quietly that Isabel hadn't noticed.
"Hey," Isabel returned the greeting.
Liz sat down next to her, and smoothed her long, brown hair out of her eyes with one hand. "Are you okay? “
"Physically, mentally, or emotionally?" Isabel asked.
Liz grinned ever so slightly. "D. All of the above. “
"I'm still a bit sore and disconnected, and drained from using my powers for so long," Isabel said. She knew that wasn't the core of Liz's question, though.
She had never felt especially close to Liz, but over the past few months, that had begun to change. Even though Liz was one of the youngest of their group, she had taken on a more mature, almost mothering role. Isabel had seen it before in Liz's behavior with Max and Maria, and to an extent with Kyle and Michael. But it had taken a while for Isabel to warm up to Liz's emotional support.
"Mentally, I'm tired. Really dog tired." She smiled and added, "I've got less energy in my head now than Juliette Lewis uses on film. “
Liz giggled. "That's tired. “
"And emotionally… I miss Jesse. I miss having someone to snuggle with, someone to hold me, someone who tells me I'm beautiful, someone who will eat my pathetic attempts at breakfast and still smile. “
Isabel looked off into the gathering darkness, then continued. "You and Max have each other, Michael and Maria have each other, but Kyle and I don't have anyone. It's gotta be weird for him, traveling with his ex- girlfriend all the time. And I know he's got some feelings for me, too. “
Liz nodded slowly, but didn't say anything.
"And look at my life. I never let anyone in Roswell get close to me in high school until it was too late. I dated Grant Sorenson, and he turned out to be a Gandarium-possessed killer. I didn't take Alex seriously until…" Isabel's voice trailed off.
She looked away, focusing on something to the side, not wanting Liz to see the tears welling up in her eyes. "You know, everything about my past on Antar says that I'm some spoiled princess who slept around on her lover and brought down the Royal Family And according to my genetic template, I should be dating Michael. He was Rath in our previous lives. “
Liz snorted. "Yeah, well, Max and Tess were 'fated to be together' too, and we've all seen how well that turned out." Isabel heard the anger in Liz's voice; she herself hated Tess as well… for killing Alex… but she knew that her own wounds didn't run nearly as deep as Liz's.
Isabel decided to redirect the conversation. "When I met Jesse, we seemed to be so right together. But I spent so much time hiding who I really was from him… “
She put her hand up to wipe a tear from her cheek. "Max thinks that Jesse isn't 'the One.' That I was settling. That in my desire to live a normal life with a normal future, I settled for Jesse. But look at what he did for me when he found out the truth. He killed that FBI agent to protect me.
"When we left Roswell, I knew beyond a doubt that he loved me, and that I loved him," Isabel continued. "But what good is that now? I can't see him or touch him. I can't tell him what I'm feeling or ask what he's feeling. I can't even call him. “
"Can't you dreamwalk him?" Liz asked.
Isabel shuddered, but tried not to let the feelings show on her face. "The last time I dreamwalked him, things didn't… go well." That was an understatement. Isabel had seen Jesse preparing divorce papers on her, to nullify their short marriage. She still didn't know if it was his real plan, or a figment of his dreaming mind.
"So call him," Liz said simply.
Isabel looked confused. "Um, hello, not supposed to have contact. “
"Screw it," Liz said, her tone conspiratorial. "It's not like the MiBs don't know we're in Cheyenne anyhow. We're on the news Jesse may even have heard something. Maybe he can help us legally somehow. I don't know." Liz put her hand on top of Isabel's. "But I do know that you need to talk to your husband. “
Isabel sighed, then looked back toward the Microbus. "I just don't know…" She trailed off.
"Wait until Max and Kyle go for food," Liz said. "There's a phone booth a few blocks from here. I'll walk down there with you. It'll give Michael and Maria some 'alone time' together. You can call Jesse from there, and it will be our secret. “
Isabel swallowed hard and squeezed Liz's hand. "Thank you, Liz. “
Boston, Massachusetts Jesse Ramirez was dozing in an easy chair in front of the television when the phone rang. Startled, he sat up quickly, knocking the TV remote onto the floor. "Hello?" he said as he picked up the receiver.
"Hi. I need to talk to my attorney," the voice on the line said.
Jesse recognized it immediately. Isabel! His mind raced, and he stood up. "Can you call me right back, or are you on your one phone call? “
He heard confusion in her tone. "I can call back, Jesse, but… “
He interrupted her. "Call 617-555-3488. You got that? 617-555-3488. “
As soon as he heard her say "Yes," he hung up. Moments later, he was sprinting to the bedroom. He opened a box on a bedside table and grabbed a cell phone. Switching it on, he was gratified to see that it was still charged. A moment later, it vibrated in his hand, announcing an incoming call.
"Hello, thanks for calling me back," he said. Before Isabel could reply, he added, "Please hold while I get some paper for taking notes. “
Slipping his shoes back on, he exited the house and made his way out of the building and onto the street. He scanned the nearby cars, but didn't see anyone sitting in them.
"Isabel?" he asked, putting the phone back up to his ear.
"Yeah, it's me. What's all this about?" He heard the concern in her voice.
"Just precautions," Jesse said, still looking around the area. "I don't know whether they've still got my place under surveillance, or if they have a way to track my phone calls, but I don't want to risk it. This is a cell phone I got from a client, so the number's not registered to me. “
"Hey, you're pretty good at covering your tracks," Isabel said. A beat passed, then she added, "It's great to hear your voice. “
Jesse sat down on the front steps of a nearby apartment building. "You too, baby. It's been way too long. How are you? “
"I'm fine. We're all fine. Well, mostly fine. We had a bit of a run-in today with the police and some government guys. “
Jesse was shocked. "You're in Cheyenne? “
"Oh, no. It's on the news there, too?" Isabel sounded sick.
"Yeah, but
they didn't release anyone's names or pictures," Jesse said quickly, hoping to reassure her. "I saw a quick blurb about it on one of the cable news channels. I heard the FBI is saying the incident's still being investigated as a possible terrorist action. “
"They cornered us in a mall somehow. I don't know how they found us. “
"Is there anything 1 can doT Jesse asked.
"Yes." Isabel hesitated a bit, then quietly said, "Tell me that you still love me. “
"Oh, baby, of course I do. I love you. I miss you. I want to be with you. “
"I was afraid you wanted to move on." He heard doubt in her voice.
The thought had crossed Jesse's mind almost every day over the last two months, but he'd tried to push it out as quickly as it had entered. "Iz, I tried to go with you guys. You wanted me to come to Boston instead. I'd still come with you if you wanted me to. There's nothing I want more than to be back with you. “
"Okay. Good. Because I love you, too," she said. "I don't know what's going to happen to us. They don't seem to have given up their search. Sometimes it feels like we're never going to find peace. “
He agreed, but didn't want to tell her that. The situation with the Feds had escalated in the time since he had found out his wife was half alien. First the shadowy government men had tried to force him to inform on his own wife, resulting in his being forced to kill an agent to defend her. And then, just when things seemed to be calming down, Tess came back to Earth with Max's baby and blew up Rogers Air Force Base. The assault the federal agents had launched at the West Roswell High graduation ceremony demonstrated how determined these men were to capture or kill Isabel and her friends.
Clearly, given today's actions against them in Wyoming, the government men had not abandoned the chase. What will make them finally give it up? Is there a way to help Isabel and Max and Michael find some kind oj peace? "You'll have peace, Iz. Well have peace. We'll be together again, and someday we'll tell our gray-skinned, big-eyed alien kids all about your misadventures after West Roswell High." He hoped she would hear the humor in his voice, and take heart in it.
"What makes you think the kids won't look like you!" she asked. Clearly he had lifted her spirits.
"Well, Max's baby was fully human, so I guess we can hope for the best," he said. But as he listened for a reply, he heard another voice over the line… Liz's voice, coming from somewhere near Isabel. She said something he couldn't make out, and then he heard a crackle on the line.
He heard Isabel cry out briefly, followed by the same from Liz. Next came a banging sound.
Then the line went dead.
9 New York City
1 he ride to the nondescript building in the outlying warehouse district took half an hour or so, during which time the three prisoners were kept closely guarded. The boy was still unconscious, and the two girls stayed very still, given the armed guards bracketing each of them.
Colonel Bertram rode in the front of the transport vehicle rather than take a chopper back to base; the Humvees didn't get second glances from the locals, but black helicopters might tend to attract more attention, so they were housed nearby. Besides, Bertram didn't want to let this group out of his sight.
He was convinced that at least one of the detainees was a fugitive the Special Unit was looking for. Bertram was not a part of the S.U., but he had served with Matthew Margolin back in Vietnam, and had stayed friends with him during the three decades since. The secrets both men carried of atrocities committed by their group during the war were binding enough, but in addition Bertram actually liked Margolin.
The colonel wasn't ultimately clear on what it was that the Special Unit did… other than covert ops… or why it wanted these kids, but the things he had seen this morning told him that whatever it was, it was something very unusual. The teenage boy had actually appeared to change his face, and he had knocked down several agents with a gesture of his hand. And then there were the strange ash-piles the troops had found in the warehouse, heaps of dusty residue that apparently had been human beings at some point not too long before.
Bertram wasn't sure whether the kids were some kind of psychics or experiments run amok. Sure, the idea sounded like some kind of science-fiction story or something. Hell, he had loved Stephen King's Firestarter, but he was reasonably certain that The Shop and Lot Six didn't actually exist. Though if it does, it's exactly the type of thing that Margolin would be involved with, he thought. And Matt does look a little like George C. Scott from the movie. He chuckled to himself.
Several minutes later, the caravan arrived at the underground "office," and the three captives were placed in solitary cells equipped with reinforced steel bars.
Bertram put the soldiers who had been in the transport on guard duty. They knew what the kids… or at least the boy, when he was conscious… were capable of, and would be more alert than new assigns. He made his way back to his office and sat behind his desk. Using a series of protocols and passwords, he logged in to a database from his desktop computer.
He and his men had been led to the warehouse by an anonymous tip, and had arrived to discover that the police were already on premises. According to these files, the tipster appeared to have been right on target. One of the girls was wanted in conjunction with the destruction of Rogers Air Force Base near Roswell, New Mexico, in May 2002. Tess Harding. The report was vague about the extent of her involvement, but clearly marked her as a person of interest who should be detained for questioning. Agents were referred to a number that Bertram recognized as a Special Unit line.
Very interesting, he thought. What could a small blond teenage girl from New Mexico have to do with the immense explosion that had decimated Rogers? She doesn't exactly fit the al-Qaeda profile.
Bertram scrolled down the page to see if he could discover any further clues to the mystery before calling Margolin. A few lines onto the second page, he felt a shot of adrenaline hit his system. Linked to Tess Harding were six other names of possible accessories, and fellow persons of interest. He clicked on the first two files to open them.
Maxwell Evans opened first. Doesn't look familiar.
Isabel Evans. His mouth opened, and he shut it with a snap. That was the other girl they had captured. Her hair was wilder now, and she looked as though she had lived a lot of years since the picture was taken, but it was undeniably the same girl.
He hurriedly clicked the other files open.
Elizabeth Parker. Nothing. Maria DeLuca. Nothing again. Kyle Valenti. Nada.
And then Michael Guerin. Bertram smiled. Another hit. This was the kid they had zapped into submission. The one who had changed his face and used the weird powers against them. Guerin had quite a file built up as well, including several brushes with the law, and a murder trial at which he'd been found not guilty. Since he was a juvenile, his record was supposed to be sealed and expunged, but this was a military intelligence file. We don't expunge anything, Bertram thought.
He noticed that all of the kids were from Roswell, which made sense, if they were connected to this Tess Harding girl. The only thing he knew about Roswell was the myth about UFOs and a supposed government cover-up of the existence of aliens and…
The thought hit Bertram like a shot. What if this Guerin kid isn't some kind of Lot Six psychic mutant, but a real, live alien? He knew the notion was absurd, and yet it could almost make sense. This could be what the Special Unit is about.
There was only one way he was going to find out the truth, and he knew just the man who could tell him.
He picked up the phone and dialed Margolin's number.
Washington, D.C.
Matthew Margolin was pleased. A few minutes ago he had heard from Agent Harrison that the Roswell group had been located in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and local agents from the field office had been dispatched to capture them. He paged Bartolli, then grabbed some of the things he'd need.
He stepped out of his office and spoke to his assistant. "Ellen, please send out a Code Seven alert. I want
a plane waiting, and eight armed agents. “
"Yes, sir, Mr. Margolin," she said, and began simultaneously punching keys on her computer and tapping a code into the phone. Her ambidexterity made her a highly valued assistant.
Margolin's cell phone rang, and he flipped it open. "Dale? “
There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a familiar voice. "Not Dale. This is Colonel Grant Bertram. Do I have Matthew Margolin? “
Margolin ducked back into his office and closed the door. "Yeah, this is Matt. Hey, Grant. What's up? “
"Are you still in charge of that Special Unit?" Bertram asked.
"Why? “
"Because if you are, then I'm about to make your day. “
Margolin's interest was piqued. "Yes, the Unit is still mine. What do you have for me? “
"Very early in the A.M. we got a tip that some fugitives would be at a certain location here in New York City. When we arrived, the local cops were already there, and the scene was a disaster. We're talking gas, guns, and the whole shebang. “
Bertram paused for a moment, as if to accentuate what he was going to say next. "There were three people captured. The rest seemed to vanish or something. All they found were piles of ash where the suspects used to be. “
Margolin nodded. "Who were the captures? “
"I believe they're some kids you're very interested in.
Some kids from Roswell. Isabel Evans, Michael Guerin, and Tess Harding." Bertram's words hung in the air.
Margolin tried to contain the excitement in his voice, but knew he hadn't quite succeeded. "You have them in custody? “
"Yeah, here on-site. They've been separated, and one of them's been juiced. He gave us quite a bit of trouble during capture. He displayed some… unusual abilities. You got a clue what I mean? “
"I might," Margolin said, keeping his tone as noncommittal as possible. "Were there any others with the three you caught? “
