by Melinda Metz
Isabel frowned. She hadn't meant to make Alex feel that way. "No one could ever think you're worthless scum," Liz told him. "It's not possible."
"Yeah, no one could even think you're really valuable scum," Maria added. "You're better than penicillin, even."
"That's mold, not scum," Liz corrected.
"Either way makes me feel better," Alex said.
All three of them laughed, and suddenly Isabel wanted to be over there with them so badly. She grabbed her tray and slowly began to rise to her feet. She didn't want them to catch her at the other table.
"If Isabel's hoping to get Michael now that she du-" Maria stopped mid-sentence. "Sorry, Alex," she said quickly. "Now that she screwed things up with the best guy in the world, she's dreaming."
Isabel froze. This she absolutely had to hear. She sat back down.
"Michael doesn't want her. Or me," Maria explained, her voice flat. "He wants Cameron. He made that clear when I went to the museum this morning."
Cameron? Isabel thought. The redhead with the buzz cut? Michael must be in post-traumatic shock from the compound.
Well, at least Isabel knew her competition. Neither Maria nor Cameron had a snowball's chance in Hades against her guy-snagging skills. Let the games begin.
***
Max cracked open the door to Ray's bedroom and did a quick Adam check. He was still asleep, his chest rising and falling so slowly, it was almost frightening. But not as frightening as Adam awake.
He knew Adam was deadly. He'd had firsthand evidence, which was why he still couldn't believe Michael was willing to risk all their lives after he'd seen Adam destroy the compound.
He leaned back his head and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He felt as if his brain were pulsing, trying to push its way through his skull. The sensation would probably go away if he'd open himself to the collective consciousness. He'd been blocking the knowledge and sensations of the consciousness for days because he'd needed to focus on getting Michael out of the compound.
Well, Michael was out now, so maybe it was time to stop resisting. The consciousness held the knowledge of everyone on his home planet, living or dead. Maybe somewhere there was an answer to what was wrong with Adam, to why he had seemingly gone from innocent to evil in such a short time. Maybe Max could learn how to help him.
If not, maybe he could at least find out if Adam's powers could be stopped. If… if he could be killed.
Max pulled a breath deep into his lungs and let it out slowly, relaxing his body, relaxing his mind, allowing himself to connect to the consciousness. Ahhh. It felt so good, so right, like sliding into an ocean exactly the same temperature as his body.
The last time he'd connected to the consciousness, he'd been bombarded by scents, images, tastes, and textures and by information, by a rush of facts that overwhelmed him. Now all he felt was the light brush of many auras against his. The auras, they were what formed his ocean. He could feel them supporting him, lifting him the way a wave lifts a swimmer.
He knew he should try to find a way to search for information about dealing with Adam. And he would. In a minute.
The image of Max breaking free from his incubation pod filled his mind, and an instant later he received a rush of emotion from the others, a mix of joy, and pity, and excitement.
Another image appeared-Max's mother teaching him how to drive. Again he felt the reaction of the others-curiosity about the technology of the car, appreciation of the warmth of the relationship between Max and his mother, wonder that one of theirs could experience this with a human.
He felt as if his essence, his spirit, was being discovered and celebrated by all those in the consciousness. The images came faster and faster, with no effort from Max, revealing all the most important moments of his life.
As each image disappeared, Max felt a little piece of his memory fade, dissolving into the ocean of auras. He was becoming part of the whole. The whole was becoming part of him. It was awesome. Transcendent.
The image of his first kiss with Liz exploded in his brain. He felt the others' appreciation of the love between Liz and Max and echoes of the love the others had experienced in their own lives.
Then the memory began to slip away from him, becoming softer and blurrier as it was shared between the billions of entities making up the consciousness.
"Stop!" Max cried. "Don't." He wasn't sure if he was using his throat and tongue and lips to form the words. He wasn't even sure if he was speaking in English. But somehow the others understood him. He felt their bewilderment, their concern.
He couldn't do this. He couldn't share so much with them. If he did, he wouldn't have anything left.
Max used all his will to force the others away from him, to break the connection and stop them from pulling away the memories that formed his own consciousness, that formed the entity called Max.
You're all right, he told himself. You're safe now. You're still you.
He opened his eyes, and his heart jackhammered as he saw his own image in the mirror. His body had become almost transparent-like a ghost. He could only see an outline of himself, and his bones and organs were faintly visible underneath.
Max looked down and tried to poke his finger through his midsection. But his finger just jabbed into flesh. He closed his eyes and squeezed himself with his mind. He looked back up at the mirror-to see that his body had fully rematerialized.
*** 3 ***
"You might want to move back a little," Cameron warned Michael. "The contents of this Lime Warp soda are under pressure. If I make one wrong move when I open it, that's it. The cap could blow off, causing-" She checked the warning on the side of the can. "Causing eye or other serious injury."
"I'll risk it," Michael answered. He stayed planted on the flat beanbag next to hers.
God, he was sexy. God, she wished he would move just a little farther away. Her whole body was aching for him. But she had to hit the road soon-a couple of days, tops, and starting something with Michael wasn't going to make that any easier.
"Okay, if you want to live dangerously." Cameron unscrewed the bottle top, and the soda gave a gentle fizz. "Kind of anticlimactic," she said. "Like a lot of things."
And you should remember that, she told herself. Yeah, she felt like she'd die if she couldn't feel Michael's hands on her again, but it was probably one of those things that was a lot better in her memory than in reality. Or not.
"Oh, really?" Michael asked. "I don't find that at all." He twisted off the top of his soda, and it erupted. That was the only word for it. At least half the bottle spewed up into the air, and the cap hit the ceiling with a pop.
Cameron wiped a little foam off her cheek. "I think you gave that a little help," she accused him.
Michael grinned at her. "All it takes is the right guy."
"Okay, stop," she ordered Michael. "I'm starting to feel like we're in a movie some businessman is watching in a cheap motel."
"That doesn't sound so bad." He leaned toward her, his gray eyes smoldering.
Cameron jerked her soda can up to her mouth and took a long swallow, doing one of those numbers where she pretended she had no idea that Michael had been about to kiss her. She knew what kissing Michael felt like. And she knew if she let herself experience it again, she'd never get her butt out of Roswell.
Runaway rule number one: Always keep moving, she lectured herself. If she stayed here, or anywhere, too long, she put herself at risk of getting caught and shipped back home.
She wished that wasn't true. She wished she could just stay here forever. It was the first place she'd really felt safe in a very long time.
Yeah, safe with the people you betrayed, she thought. She felt a little sick every time she remembered how she'd manipulated Michael into telling her the names of the other aliens and then told Sheriff Valenti that Max and Isabel were the ones he was looking for.
At least nothing bad had happened to them because of what she'd done. Adam had killed Valenti before he had
a chance to do anything with the info. But that didn't change the fact that Cameron had given up Michael's friends just to stop Valenti from turning her over to her parents.
It probably wasn't the last time she'd have to do something like that. That's just the way it had to be. She had to be willing to do anything to survive. It was very nice that Michael had this whole group of people willing to go to the mat for him, but she didn't. She had to take care of herself.
"So, do you want me to help you decide between psycho girl and the cheerleader?" she asked Michael, just in case the move with the soda hadn't discouraged him enough. "Isabel is definitely hotter, but you'd have to be willing to-"
"He's coming out!" Max shouted. A second later Adam burst into the living room, Max right behind him.
Cameron and Michael jumped to their feet. "If you think he's going to hurt you, use your powers on him," he told her, his voice so low, she could hardly hear him.
Oh, good, she thought. Then I'm perfectly safe. I'll just use my powers. The fake powers I lied about having so Michael would trust me enough to open up. Sure am glad I have those powers.
Cameron tried to get control over the fear whirlpooling inside her as she looked at Adam. His eyes passed over her briefly as he jerked his head from side to side, scanning the room, but he didn't seem to recognize her at all. She could have been a bug or a piece of furniture.
"What's up, big guy?" Michael called. "Cameron and I were just saying we were in the mood for a card game. Want to play?"
His voice sounded casual and friendly, but he carefully positioned himself between Cameron and Adam, and there was tension in every muscle of his body. Something was obviously very wrong with Adam.
Adam didn't answer. He did another quick survey of the room, then headed straight for the front door.
Michael and Max scrambled around him, blocking his way. "Adam, listen," Max said, his voice soft and gentle, as if he were trying to calm down an animal. "You're sick or something. I know you might not think so, but you are. We need you to stay inside until we find out what's wrong and how to help you."
"Ray took something that didn't belong to him. I have to get it back," Adam answered, his voice deeper than Cameron remembered it. He took a step forward, but Michael and Max wouldn't let him pass.
"Move," Adam demanded.
"No," Michael said firmly. "We're not moving. You want to get past us, you're going to have to take us out. Is that what you want to do, Adam? You want to attack us? Look at us. I'm the one who helped you escape from the compound. Max is the one who took care of you when you got out."
Is he even capable of remembering them? Cameron wondered. He seemed so completely different. Was there enough of the old Adam left to respond to what Michael was saying?
"Maybe you should just let him go," she cried. She'd seen what Adam had done to Valenti. She would go insane if she had to watch that happen to Michael. But there was no way she could fight Adam. She was powerless.
"No, we're not letting him go," Michael answered, his eyes locked on Adam's. "If he wants out, he has to go through us."
Why did he keep saying that? He might as well just dump gas all over himself, hand Adam a blowtorch, and get it over with.
Adam gave a growl of frustration. A tremor raced through his body. Then he collapsed, as if all his bones had turned to liquid.
"This was the first time I've seen him conscious since we were in the compound together," Michael said. He crouched down beside Adam.
Cameron slowly walked over. She had this crazy fear that Adam would suddenly sit up and attack them all, like a deranged killer in some horror movie. She told herself to get a grip and knelt next to Michael. "The way Adam looks is the only thing that's the same. He was like the world's biggest little boy when he was with us." She gave a choked laugh. "It kind of creeped me out at first, how innocent he was. Like he'd been raised by teddy bears or something."
"Are you starting to understand why I wanted him kept knocked out?" Max asked Michael, his voice cold enough to give a freezer burn.
I thought they were supposed to be best friends, Cameron thought. With friends like that… Although she supposed Max had his reasons.
"We're never going to be able to figure out what made him like this if he's unconscious," Michael answered.
"We're never going to be able to figure out what made him like this if we're dead," Max shot back.
"He didn't do anything to hurt us," Michael protested.
"This time." Max shook his head. "What I don't get is why he was talking about Ray. Ray died before Adam got out of the compound."
"I connected to him a few times," Michael said. "Maybe he got images of Ray from me… but that wouldn't explain why he was looking for something of Ray's."
"Well, we can't ask him now." Max bent down and grabbed Adam's limp arms. "Help me get him back to the bedroom."
Michael grabbed Adam's legs and stood up. Cameron stayed where she was, watching as they hauled him off. She hoped Adam stayed out until she was ready to leave. This was a situation she did not need to deal with.
"So is he okay?" she asked when Michael came back into the living room.
He shrugged. "You know everything I know." He dropped back down on the ripped-up beanbag chair he'd been sitting on before Adam's breakout attempt.
Cameron got up and moved over to the debeaned beanbag chair across from him. It kept her a little farther away from him than before at least. "So are you staying here again tonight?" she asked.
"Yeah. I can't exactly go back to my foster home after disappearing for more than a week," he answered. He flicked some beanbag stuffing off the knee of his jeans. "I guess when this whole Adam thing is… over, I'll have to go kiss my social worker's feet. He'll probably have to find me a new home. I don't think the Pascals are going to want me back."
Cameron nodded. She knew how that felt. She doubted her parents had even wanted her on the day she was born. The only reason they wanted her back now was because it seemed the proper parental response to her running away-and because she was a good psychological punching bag.
"So, I was going to help you choose between Maria and Isabel," Cameron said, trying to distract Michael a bit.
"Okay, here's the thing," Michael said. "Say you went into an ice-cream store and the guy behind the counter points to two of the tubs and says you can pick between those two flavors. But the freezer case is filled with all these other tubs with all these other flavors. The two tubs of ice cream look great. You're sure they would taste amazing. But what if you're really in the mood for something else?"
Cameron groaned. "Can we please go back to talking about Lime Warps?" she said, grinning. "Because I have a bad feeling that I'm a tub of ice cream in this scenario. A tub of ice cream. Do you notice something about the wording there that might not be overly appealing?"
"Bad scenario. Sorry. Let me try again." Before she knew what he was doing, he had her face cupped in his hands. An instant later his mouth was on hers.
This is a big mistake. This is a monumentally big mistake, Cameron thought. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned back, pulling Michael down on top of her.
***
Isabel paused outside the museum's side door and applied a fresh coat of mochaccino lipstick, then she headed in. It was time for her all-night guard duty session. By morning Michael was not even going to remember Cameron's name.
She picked her way across the trashed museum and headed up the staircase leading to Ray's living room. Halfway to the top she heard something that made her blood start to sizzle, something that made it very clear that at least right now, Michael knew Cameron's name very well. He was practically groaning it.
Isabel dashed up the rest of the stairs, and her blood went from sizzling to a full boil when she saw Michael and Cameron sprawled on the floor. Cameron's hands were buried under Michael's shirt. From where Isabel was standing, she couldn't see exactly where Michael's hands were, but she didn't need to see them to
know they were someplace they shouldn't be. They should be on her-not Cameron.
She was way prettier than Cameron, no contest. The girl had a body like a boy. Why would Michael want to be making out with that?
They were held prisoner in the compound together, she reminded herself. Maybe that created some kind of twisted thing between them. Something must have happened because Isabel was standing about three feet away from Michael and he was so caught up in kissing Cameron that he hadn't noticed. That was just not something that could have happened unless Michael had been through some major psychological trauma.
Well, there was someone who could tell her exactly what went on between them in the compound. And Isabel was going to get the whole story from him right now. She rushed across the room and down the hall to the bedroom where they'd been keeping Adam. Max sat in front of the door.
"Your shifts over," she said. "Liz said to tell you she'd meet you at our house."
"Maybe I should stay," he answered. "Adam… it's not that he's done anything, exactly. He only got up once, and Michael and I kept him from leaving, but-"
"Michael's here. We'll be fine," Isabel interrupted. She reached down and hauled her brother to his feet.
"Call me if anything happens," Max told her, his voice tense. "And don't underestimate him, Izzy. You have to think of him as a completely different person from the one we first met. Think of him as dangerous."
"I will. I promise," she answered. Was he ever going to leave? She couldn't talk to Adam until he did.
"Liz and I might go over to Flying Pepperoni, so if you need me and I'm not home, try over there. And if I'm not there, try the Crashdown."
"Flying Pepperoni. Crashdown. Got it," she said. She grabbed his coat from off the floor and thrust it at him.
"Do you have the phone numbers?" he asked as he pulled on the coat.
"There's always information. It's like magic. You call them up, and they'll tell you any number you need to know," Isabel answered. "Now go. Liz is going to be sitting in front of our house, waiting for you."
