by Melinda Metz
You should have your own HBO special, Michael thought. You're a regular laugh riot.
Just as Adam reached for his wrist, the lab door swung open. Sheriff Valenti entered, followed by the girl from the cell across from Michael's. "This is Cameron Winger, the one I told you about," Valenti informed the doctor. "I'm interested in how her parapsychological powers can be used in conjunction with their abilities." He jerked his chin toward Michael and Adam. "I assume you've devised the appropriate tests."
Parapsychological powers. Was that like ESP or what? Michael thought.
"Of course," Doyle answered quickly. "Come over here and sit between Michael and Adam."
"What's their deal?" she asked, glancing at them.
"There's no need for you to speak unless you're asked a direct question," Valenti answered.
"Fine. I'll just squeak once for yes and twice for no. How's that?" Cameron sauntered over and slid into the chair next to Michael. She glanced over at him. "What was your name again? Mickey?"
"Uh-huh. And you're Minnie, right?" he asked.
"No. The Brain. World domination meeting at midnight. My cell," she whispered, leaning a little closer.
He caught the scent of something familiar. What was it? He knew he'd smelled it before. The beach, he realized. She smells exactly like the beach. Michael had only been to the beach once in his life. The Evanses took him there on vacation once. The best week of his life. He pulled in a deep breath, trying not to be too obvious about it. Oh, yeah.
"I need to ask you not to talk to each other," Dr. Doyle told them, with an anxious look at Valenti. "I'm going to have you do some telepathy drills, and it will taint the results if you know anything about each other."
"I'll expect a full report on my desk by the end of the day," Valenti told the doctor. He turned and started toward the door.
"Dad!" Adam called out to Valenti excitedly. "Michael and I made a link, then linked to Bill. It only took us two seconds to see his mother."
"That's very good," Valenti answered in his Mr. Rogers voice.
"Yes, very good, Igor," Michael mocked.
"Watch yourself, Michael. We do have punishments for attitude problems, you know," Valenti snapped back. He stared at Michael for a moment, then walked away, pulling the doctor with him.
As he whispered orders to the doctor, Michael's anger took hold of him. The "dad" stuff was just too much. Watching Adam's boyish face as he looked admiringly at that evil man. Michael couldn't deal with it anymore; Adam had to know the truth about Daddy Valenti. What if, he thought, Adam connected to… ah, yes.
"Adam," he said impishly. "Go play the game with Daddy Valenti. I know it's not really for daddies, but I bet he'll think it's really cool."
A wide smile broke across Adam's face. He leaped up and hurled himself at Valenti. Before Valenti could react, Adam grabbed his hand.
Michael knew the second Adam made the connection. He let out a high, keening wail that Michael could feel in the center of his bones.
***
"If Michael had told Valenti the truth about you and Isabel, neither of you would be sitting here right now," Alex said. He glanced around the Evanses' living room. Liz, Maria, Max, and Isabel all seemed to agree.
His gaze lingered on Isabel. Why was she sitting in the armchair? The minute they'd walked in the room, she practically ran toward it. It's not like he had to be within touching distance of her every moment of the day, though he wouldn't complain. But she didn't have to avoid him.
Oh, man. What did I tell you about hanging out with Liz and Maria so much? he asked himself. You're suffering from an attack of girl brain. Guys don't analyze garbage like this. If you don't watch yourself, you're going to start actually wanting to see movies with Meg Ryan in them, and then-
"I don't know why we're even talking about this," Isabel said, pulling Alex out of his thoughts. "Michael would never give Valenti information about any of us."
"That's a little, uh, naive, don't you think?" Alex asked. "Valenti has ways of making people talk. I'm sure he could make me squeal like a pig and tell him everything he wanted to know."
"Yeah, but you're not Michael, are you?" Isabel asked.
Ooohhhh. That was harsh, even to a guy brain. Like Michael was just way more tough, or strong, or action-hero-like than Alex could ever dream of being.
Which maybe was true. But Isabel was supposed to be his girlfriend. Wasn't that supposed to mean that-
"So when are we going in after Michael?" Maria asked. Alex forced his attention back to the conversation. "It's been three days already."
"I don't think three days is long enough," Liz said gently.
"After the stone incident, they're going to be well prepared for escape attempts," Max added.
"Yeah, I think it's too soon," Alex agreed.
"You think," Isabel said. "That's all we've been hearing is what you think. What about what the rest of us think?"
It's temporary insanity, Alex told himself. Michael's practically like her brother. Cut her some slack. "Max, Liz, and Maria just said what they thought," Alex answered, trying to keep his tone neutral. "What about you? What do you think we should do?"
Isabel hesitated. "I think we should wait," she finally mumbled.
Silence filled the room. Alex could hear the clock in the kitchen ticking.
"So we'll wait," Max said at last. "We should all just be thinking of ways to get into the compound so that we'll be ready when we can do it."
Maria stood up. "I've got to get home. Mom's still in her post-divorce dating frenzy, and I want to make sure she doesn't raid my closet again."
"You want to do the bio homework together?" Liz asked Max.
"Sure," he answered, and they headed off down the hall toward his room.
Alex and Isabel were alone. Alex wished they'd all stayed in the living room awhile. Which was the opposite of the way he usually felt.
Isabel didn't make any move to come over to the couch or even look in his direction. She has to be terrified, Alex thought. Not just of what's happening to Michael, but of what could happen to her.
He stood up and walked over to her chair. He sat down on the arm. Isabel didn't look at him. He reached out and smoothed a lock of hair off her forehead. "I know you're scared-"
Isabel jumped up, then spun around to face him. "You have no idea what I'm feeling," she cried.
"So tell me," he answered. He could hear the anger creeping into his voice, and he tried to clamp it down.
"Why should I?" she demanded. "Just because we've gone out a few times, that doesn't mean you have the right to know my every thought!"
***
"I don't think we need to be hearing this," Max said. He swung his bedroom door shut.
"Yeah," Liz agreed. Whatever was going on out there was between Alex and Isabel, and they definitely didn't need an audience.
She sat down on Max's bed and pulled her bio book out of her backpack. "I haven't read any of the chapter yet, have you?" she asked.
"No. I keep-"
"Thinking about Michael," Liz finished his sentence. "How do you think he's doing? I mean, what have you been feeling from him?"
"Anger. A lot of anger and frustration. But no pain. And not as much fear. I think they must be treating him okay," Max answered. "I can't stop picturing him down there, though. It makes me nuts. If anyone should be down there, it should be me. I'm the one who needed the crystals."
"Michael and Isabel are going to need them, too," Liz reminded him. "You just happened to go through your akino first."
"I know, I know. I keep telling myself that," Max answered.
"Well, start listening," Liz answered. She rooted around in her backpack until she found a rubber band. She tossed it to Max. "You should try this."
Max stared at it. "I don't get it."
"Put it around your wrist. Then every time you start thinking about how all this is your fault, you snap it, to sort of snap yourself out of it," Liz explained. "That's what m
y mom did when she wanted to stop smoking."
Max slid the rubber band over his wrist and then snapped the band. "That stings."
"It's supposed to," Liz said. "That's the point. It's supposed to jerk you out of your thought pattern or something. Although there is another method you could try." She tried to sound all serious, but she could feel her lips curving into a smile. "It's kind of experimental, though."
"It doesn't involve anything like placenta, does it?" Max asked. "It seems like every new cure has something to do with placenta. Did you see in the news about using blood from the placenta as sort of a substitute for a bone marrow transplant?"
"It has nothing to do with placenta," Liz promised. "It has to do with kissing me. See, whenever you're about to step on the plane for another one of your guilt trips, you kiss me instead."
"Well…" Max hesitated. "I guess I should keep an open mind about these new experimental treatments." He slid one hand under her hair, skimming his fingers over the sensitive skin of her neck. "I'm actually starting to feel a little guilty right now."
"Oh, really?" Liz wrapped her arms around his waist. "Well, let's see if the Ortecho method works." She kissed him-a long, slow kiss that spread warmth through her entire body. It was so amazing to be able to kiss Max whenever she wanted to. That was one good thing that came out of him getting so sick. He finally realized what a waste it was for them to be just friends.
Liz raised her head a fraction of an inch. "Did that help?" she asked, her lips still so close to Max's that they brushed against his with every word.
"Yeah. It did. A lot. But there's something else I'm feeling guilty about," Max answered. "I, um, um, I ate the last coconut cookie last night. And my dad loves coconut cookies. I just feel terrible about it," he said in a rush.
They kissed again. Liz's laughter turned into a little gasp as Max leaned back on the bed, pulling her down on top of him. Her long hair tumbled down, forming a curtain around their faces.
Liz felt like everyone in the entire world had vanished as Max began kissing her neck, flicking his tongue across the little hollow at the base of her throat. Every sense was filled with Max. Nothing else mattered.
Then she heard the front door slam.
Footsteps ran down the hall. And she thought she heard the sound of Isabel crying.
"Should we go out there and talk to her?" Liz asked.
"In a little while. She probably needs to be alone first." Max slid his hands down to Liz's waist. "Besides, I'm starting to feel sort of guilty again. It's not really fair that Isabel is fighting with her guy while I have you in my bedroom."
"Yeah," Liz breathed. "I'm feeling a little guilty about that, too."
*** 6 ***
Cameron strolled through the doorway of Michael's cell as if she couldn't even see the two guards with machine guns flanking it. "I'm having sort of a Planet of the Apes moment here," she said as they locked the door behind her. "You know that scene where they put the woman in the cage with Taylor the astronaut? Sort of as a present?"
Planet of the Apes, Michael thought. He and Maria had watched that during one of their late night movie marathons a few weeks ago. Back when things were normal between them, before she told him she loved him. He couldn't even think about that now. Not in here. It would make him stark-staring wacko.
"Yeah, I know the part you mean," Michael answered. He raised an eyebrow. "So am I supposed to unwrap you now?"
She snorted. "I wouldn't try it. Not unless you have a very high threshold of pain." She sat down on Michael's cot. "Where's your weird little friend?"
"Adam? The guards said they'd bring him over later. The doctor wanted to do a couple more tests on him," Michael said.
"What's his story? Is he, you know, all there or what?" Cameron asked.
Michael felt a surge of protectiveness. He'd only known Adam a couple of days, but already he felt like family. The kid definitely needed someone to look after him, and since there wasn't exactly a line of volunteers for the job, Michael had decided to step in.
"Adam was born in this place," Michael explained. "Everyone here treats him like he's five years old, so that's the only way he knows to act."
Michael noticed Cameron's brown eyes widen a fraction. That got to her, he realized. She's not quite as hard as she thinks she is.
"And what about you, Mickey? What's your deal?" she asked.
"I just got here. The pictures the travel agent showed me made the accommodations look much more inviting," he said.
"It's true. The hot tubs were supposed to be pink marble. I don't know about yours, but mine is just white porcelain," she shot back, doing a snobby rich girl impersonation. "Unacceptable."
She ran one of her fingers back and forth along the rip in the knee of her jeans. Michael noticed she had a tattoo-some funky little design-on the back of her hand. Usually Michael thought tattoos were trendy and chintzy. But on Cameron it worked.
"No, really," she said. "How did you end up in here?"
Michael figured everyone in the compound knew he and Adam were aliens. But she obviously didn't. Yeah, there were some yellow splotches of fear in her olive green aura. But nothing like what he'd expect to see if she knew the truth. That was a whole different kind of fear than the fear of being held prisoner. It was the fear of the unknown. Of the other. Of the monster.
"You first," Michael answered. He didn't think it would be long before someone told Cameron the truth about him. But for now, for tonight, he didn't want to deal with her pulling away from him.
Cameron wrapped her arms around her knees and laced her long, graceful fingers together. "I ran away. Our friend the sheriff found me. He made this deal with my parents. If they'd allow me to live here and participate in some tests of my psychic abilities, he'd, I think the expression he used was, take me in hand. Meaning, make sure I studied enough to get good SAT scores. Make sure I didn't run away again. Basically make sure I was a good little girl."
"And they said yes?" Michael asked.
The edges of Cameron's aura darkened to an oily gray. "Oh, yeah. They said yes. I get the feeling he may have given them some cash to sweeten the deal." She let out her breath in a long sigh. "But even if he hadn't, they probably would have jumped on it. They aren't too crazy about having a freak for a daughter."
There are a lot of sick puppies in the world, Michael thought. People who would sell their own daughter… they had to be the sickest. "How old were you when you first realized you could… do things other people couldn't?"
Her aura's yellow splotches widened, the gray rim grew darker, and jagged streaks of red appeared. Talking about this was stressing her out majorly.
"You know what?" Michael said quickly. "It doesn't matter. We're both freaks. That's really all we need to know about each other. Let's talk about something else."
"Like getting out of here," Cameron agreed, her voice low and tense.
"Wait. They're bringing Adam over," Michael cautioned. He and Cameron watched in silence as two guards escorted Adam to the cell. Michael could hardly stand to look at Adam's face. The color was drained, and his eyes… his eyes looked dead. No more life in them than a couple of marbles.
"What did they do to him?" Cameron whispered.
"It's what I did to him," Michael answered. "Remember when he touched the sheriff and started screaming? He was screaming because he saw images from the sheriffs brain. I don't know which ones exactly, but I know for sure he could have seen the sheriff kill a couple different people."
"Wait. How is that something you did?" Cameron asked.
"I told him to touch the sheriff even though I knew he'd see things that would probably give him nightmares for the rest of his life," Michael answered. "He thinks of the guy as his dad. Or at least he did."
One of the guards opened the door and Adam walked inside, his shoulders all hunched over like he was afraid someone was going to beat him up or something.
"I'm sorry," Michael said as soon as the door was locked behi
nd Adam. "I'm sorry I had to make you play the game with Da-with Valenti. But you needed to know the truth about him. He's dangerous, Adam. This place is dangerous, for all of us."
Adam didn't answer for a moment. He didn't even blink. He just stared at Michael with his dead eyes. "Can we leave?" he finally asked.
"I think we might be able to," Michael answered. "But we'd need your help. Can you help us?"
Adam shuffled over and sat down in front of the cot. "I can help," he said.
"Okay, you remember how today we linked with Bill and found out what his mother looked like?" Michael asked.
Adam nodded.
"We're going to do that with one of the guards. But instead of a mother, we're going to be looking for kids, okay? Go over and ask the guards if you can have something from your cell. When they go to get it, you and I will link. Then when the guard comes back and opens the door, you link with him and together we'll get a picture of his kids, okay?"
"Yeah," Adam answered softly. He got up and walked over to the door.
Cameron leaned close. "You think you can trust Pinky?" she asked.
"We'll see, won't we?" he answered, trying to ignore the smell of the beach coming off her. He couldn't get distracted.
Adam tapped on the glass, and a moment later the guard opened the door. "Could I have my cards?" Adam asked. "I forgot them."
"Why not?" The guard locked the door and headed off. Michael stood up and moved behind Adam. When the guard came back, Michael noticed that he moved one hand to his cattle prod before he opened the door again. Michael had been trying not to look suspicious, but obviously it didn't work. He moved back a step, careful to keep his fingers on Adam's arm.
Adam reached for the cards. The moment his fingers touched the guard's, Michael was in. The two of them together really were powerful. Okay, kids, Michael thought. I need kids. The images blurred as they rushed past, then bam!-a little girl with dark braids and no front teeth appeared. Michael broke the connection and returned to the cot.
"Deal us a hand of crazy eights," Michael told Adam. He wanted everything to look nice and normal in the cell.
