Roswell High 4 -- The Watcher 

by Melinda Metz 

The sale of this book without its cover is unauthorized. If you
purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was
reported to the publisher as "unsold and destroyed." Neither the author
nor the publisher has received payment for the sale of this "stripped
book." 

This book is a work of fiction. Although the physical setting of the
book is Roswell, New Mexico, the high school and its students, names,
characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events
or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. 

POCKET PULSE published by 

Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc. 

1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 

Produced by 17th Street Productions, Inc. 33 West 17th Street New York,
NY 10011 

Copyright © 1999 by POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc.
Cover art TM and © 2000 by Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All
Rights Reserved. 

First published in 1998 by Archway Paperbacks 

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce 

this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. 

For information address 17th Street Productions, Inc., 

33 West 17th Street, New York, NY 10011, or Pocket Books, 

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ISBN: 0-671-77463-8 

First Pocket Pulse printing February 2000 

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POCKET PULSE and colophon are trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc. 

Printed in the U. S. A. 

A TERRIFYING NEW WEAKNESS... 

Max took a deep breath and focused on making the connection he would
need to heal the gash. Instead of the rush of images from Liz that he
expected, he got the same one again and again -- the image of him with
his eyes rolled back in his head. 

Why wasn't it working? Why wasn't he in? Max took another breath. Think
of Liz, he told himself. But he only got the same sickening image. 

Liz eased his hand away from hers. "It's okay. It's no big deal. Do you
have a handkerchief or something? We can just make a bandage." 

Max ripped the bottom off his T-shirt and carefully wrapped it across
her palm. "Will you be okay to drive?" he asked. 

"Yeah." She slid back behind the wheel and pulled back onto the highway.
The desert around them felt much darker and dangerous now, now that he
knew he no longer had his powers. 

*** 1 *** 

Max Evans gazed in the bathroom mirror. "Not looking good, chief," he
said to his reflection. Hollow cheeks. Bags -- more like a full set of
luggage -- under his eyes. His skin had a transparent, grayish quality.
He noticed a zit on his neck. It was actually kind of... comforting. It
made him feel young. 

Max stepped onto the scale. Three pounds less than yesterday. A wave of
panic rushed through him. He lost his balance, fell off the scale, and
managed to land on the toilet. He covered his face with his hands. Am I
having a midlife crisis at sixteen? he wondered. Why do I feel so weak? 

He heard a shrill giggle from downstairs. God -- I've got to get to
work, he thought. 

"Uh, I'm leaving now," Max called. He cleared his throat and descended
the stairs. "To leave, I have to walk through the living room. I am now
moving toward the living room." 

Max stepped through the doorway. Oh, man. His sister, Isabel, and her
boyfriend, Alex Manes, hadn't taken the hint. They were still all over
each other. Max tried not to look as he rushed past them, but he still
saw more than he wanted to. Lip lockage. Some buttons unbuttoned. Hands
everywhere. 

It just wasn't something a guy needed to see his sister doing. His
little sister. Okay, she was a junior in high school. But still. 

Max slammed out the front door and trotted over to his Jeep, relieved to
be out of the house. He swung himself into the driver's seat, turned on
the ignition, and backed out the driveway. 

He made a left, heading toward the center of Roswell, then cranked the
radio and put on his shades against the late afternoon sun. The cool air
slid past him, blowing his blond hair off his forehead. He started
feeling like a guy in a Jeep ad. An
I'm-the-king-of-the-world-up-here-in-my-Jeep feeling. 

It had been a while since he'd felt this good. But things were basically
going his way. Isabel was with a guy Max actually liked, a guy who
treated her right. Yeah, Max wished they would find a slightly more
private place for their make-out marathons, but he approved of the whole
Isabel-Alex thing. 

He smiled. Isabel would be furious if she knew what he was thinking
right now. She'd say just because he was her brother that didn't mean he
had to give the guys she went out with the seal of approval, like they
were sides of beef he thought were fit to be hamburger. She'd say it was
none of his business. 

But it was. Everyone in the group was his business. He was connected to
all six of them. And they were connected to him. Sometimes when they
were all hanging out, their auras would swirl together and create one
huge aura filled with colors. Even when they were apart, that feeling of
oneness lingered within him. Max didn't think he could feel this good if
something was really wrong with one of the others. 

Isabel and Alex were certainly happy. Maybe even a little too happy for
Max's taste. He was almost scared to think of them getting any happier
-- they might break a natural law or something. That took care of two of
the six. 

Maria DeLuca was doing okay, too, especially considering that she'd
almost died on them last week. She'd found a ring that contained one of
the Stones of Midnight. It gave her psychic powers -- by merely thinking
of someone, she could experience their thoughts and emotions.
Unfortunately bounty hunters from Max's home planet were tracking the
stolen Stone. They tried to kill Maria, and they probably would have. 

But Michael Guerin, Max's best friend, faced the bounty hunters with her
and basically saved her. Now the worst thing Michael had to deal with
was adjusting to his latest foster home. His new foster parents, the
Pascals, had a lot of rules, but they seemed to really care about the
kids who lived with them. That had to count for something. 

And Liz... Admit it, Max thought. Now you've come to the real reason
you're feeling good. Liz Ortecho doesn't hate you anymore. 

He had come so close to permanently messing things up with Liz. He'd
kissed her and then told her he wanted to be just friends. Then he'd
kissed her again and told her he wanted to be just friends again. And
then when she decided to go out with another guy, Max had followed her
like some kind of lunatic stalker. Not exactly something a friend would
do. 

So Liz had gone into Max-hating mode. But when Maria got hurt, it took
all six of them to get her through -- so they put Max's maddening
fickleness aside for the time being. They'd managed to find a way back
to being friends. Just friends. But friends. 

A new song came on the radio. One of those whiny, wailing chick songs
about the pain of love. Not what Max wanted to hear right now. Not when
he was actually feeling decent for once. He did a fast button punch to
change the station. 

A drum solo pounded out. It was loud. Way too loud. Louder than it would
be if he were sitting next to one of those huge amps at a concert. Max
fumbled for the volume control and turned the knob to the left. But the
drums got louder. He felt as if the drumsticks were slamming into his
brain. Stabbing through the gray matter. 

Max pulled over to the curb and stopped the car. He snapped the radio
off. The drumming stopped. But there were still so many sounds. A car
honked as it passed him. Max jerked his head back and gritted his teeth.
The honk seemed to pierce his delicate eardrum like a needle. 

Max shoved his hands against his ears. He tried to keep from screaming.
The sound of his own howl of pain would be agony. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, leaned down, and pressed his forehead against
the steering wheel. His hands weren't blocking out enough of the noise.
He could still hear car wheels against the street, a bird chirping in
one of the trees, two girls giggling. He could hear electricity pulsing
through the power lines over his head. And the leaves of the trees
brushing together. And his own blood rushing through his veins. It was
too much. He couldn't take it. 

Then it stopped. As if some giant hand had reached down and lowered the
cosmic volume control. Max could hear only dim, muffled sounds through
his hands. He slowly opened his eyes. He watched a car drive by. He
could hardly hear it. 

Max moved his hands a few inches away from his ears. He held them poised
there, ready to slap them back in place if he needed to. But the sounds
were... just normal sounds. Some louder than others, but none getting
even close to the pain-inducing level. 

What was that? Max thought. He glanced around the street. He spotted a
woman a few houses down, working in her garden. She seemed too absorbed
in her work to have experienced anything like what Max had. 

Of course she hadn't. Maybe there had been a screwup at the radio
station, something that made it blast out music at eardrum-popping
levels. But that couldn't explain the volume on cars and birds and power
lines. No, whatever that was had happened inside him. 

Max let out a long, shuddering breath and lowered his hands to the
wheel. He waited a few more minutes to make sure he wasn't going to get
hit with another sound blast, then he pulled away from the curb. 

He felt the tension in his neck and shoulders and arms as he drove. Even
his fingers were curled too tightly around the wheel. Relax, he told
himself. Just take a deep breath and relax. His body wouldn't obey -- it
was bracing itself for the next assault. 

But it didn't come. Max made it to the UFO museum without even a flash
of the mega-sound blast. He maneuvered the Jeep into an empty spot in
the parking lot. Should I ask Ray about what happened? he wondered.
Maybe it was an alien thing. 

But Ray Iburg didn't like being asked questions about alien things. He
said that even though Max, Isabel, and Michael were from his home
planet, earth was their home now. He didn't want them to spend their
lives thinking about some other place. 

Even though Max suspected that Ray spent a lot of time thinking about
home -- his home. 

When Max first found out that Ray was an alien, too, he'd gotten this
picture in his mind. He'd never admitted it to anyone else, but he'd
thought he and Ray would get a Luke Skywalker-Yoda kind of thing going,
where Ray would impart all his wisdom to Max, tell Max about his
parents, teach him how to refine his powers, that kind of stuff. Okay,
maybe it was dorky. But that's what he'd thought. 

It hadn't turned out like that. Ray had told him and Michael about their
parents' death. He'd shown them a hologram re-creation of the spaceship
crashing in the desert outside Roswell back in 1947. And he'd told them
how he brought their incubation pods from the ship to the desert cave
where they would be safe during the years it took them to develop to
maturity. He'd even shown them a few new things that they could do with
their powers, things that might help protect them against being
discovered by Sheriff Valenti. Plus he'd completely been there for them
when a group of alien bounty hunters came after Maria. 

That was all. Ray was happy for Max to keep working at the museum. But
he acted as if he and Max were just two ordinary humans. And he wanted
Max to act the same way. 

Max wanted so much more from Ray. He wanted Ray to teach him the history
of their planet -- its culture and all its phenomena. Ray might tell him
if the intense volume thing Max had just experienced was alien related.
But then he'd probably clam up. 

Max climbed out of the Jeep and crossed the parking lot. He took off his
sunglasses and hooked them over the edge of his T-shirt. 

"I found a great painting of foo fighters," Ray announced the second Max
walked through the door. "Come check it out." He started toward the back
of the museum without waiting for a reply. 

"I didn't know Foo Fighters had any UFO connection," Max commented as he
followed Ray. 

"Don't say that so loud," Ray cautioned. He took a quick glance around
for tourists, but the museum's few customers were flipping through the
T-shirt rack on the other side of the place. "People pay good money to
come in here and enjoy their wacky human theories. Myself, I think it's
the World War Two version of an urban legend. That generation's
hook-handed man in the back of a car." 

"Whoa. I'm talking about the rock band here, Ray. And you would be
talking about?" 

Ray turned the corner and nodded at a massive oil painting of an old
fighter plane being chased by what looked like balls of orange and green
fire. "The band got their name from these foo fighters. That's what
people called the incredibly fast, glowing balls and silver disks
reported to follow planes and ships in the European and Pacific theaters
during the war. The UFologist types think they were UFOs," Ray
explained. He pointed at Max. "And if anyone asks you about them, you
believe the same thing. Got it?" 

"I live to deceive the public," Max said. Now seemed like a good time to
ask about what had happened in the car. 

Ray tilted his head to one side. "I think that painting is crooked. Good
thing I left the ladder out." 

"I'll fix it." Max hurried over and climbed up to the second-highest
step. He pushed the corner of the painting down about half an inch. "How
does that look?" he asked. 

He stood way too close to it to tell. The painting was so big, it filled
most of his field of vision. Max stared at it, transfixed. The orange
and green balls practically vibrated with color. He felt as if they were
flying toward him. They were so bright, they almost seemed to glow. 

"Ray? Is it straight?" Max repeated. He felt his mouth moving, forming
the words. But no sound came out. He realized the museum had become
absolutely silent. 

"Ray!" he shouted. He could feel the muscles in his throat working. But
he couldn't force out a sound. 

He started to turn and look for Ray, but his gaze locked on the colors
of the painting. They were brighter now. So bright, they made his eyes
burn. 

Look away! Now! he ordered himself. But the colors were so beautiful. So
vivid. Mesmerizing. The green and orange filled his vision. It was like
staring directly into the sun. And he couldn't force his gaze away. 

His eyes felt like hot coals jammed into his head. The green and orange
balls exploded in front of him. Filling his vision with searing bits of
color. 

Then a wave of dizziness swept through Max, and the world went black. He
couldn't feel the ladder under his feet. And he was falling. 

He knew he was only a few feet off the ground. He should have landed
instantaneously. But he kept hurtling through the dark, silent void.
Spinning, twisting, rolling. But always falling. 

Then it was over. He could feel the museum's tile floor under his back.
He could hear Ray's voice saying his name. 

He opened his eyes a crack. He saw blobs of color, but none had the
effect of the painting's green and orange balls of fire. He opened his
eyes the rest of the way and sat up. 

"Are you okay? What happened?" Ray asked. 

Max scrubbed his face with his fingers. "I was hoping you would tell
me," he muttered. 

Ray turned to the group of tourists who had gathered. "He's fine. You
can all go back to what you were doing. Don't miss the crop circle
exhibit," he told them. Then he helped Max to his feet. "Come on, I'll
get you something to drink." 

Ray led Max to a table at the back of the museum's little coffee shop.
"You want water, a Lime Warp, what?" 

Max shook his head. All he wanted was information. And fast. "Nothing. I
just need you to help me figure out what's going on. I was standing on
the ladder, and everything was normal. Then the green and orange in the
painting got brighter and brighter until they were burning my eyes. Then
it's like I went blind. And deaf -- that actually happened first. And
then I was falling. It was like I'd fallen off a skyscraper or
something. It took me forever to hit the ground." 

Saying all that out loud... it made him feel like a loon. Maybe he had a
fever or something. 

Ray sat down across from Max and studied his face intensely. "Is this
the first time anything like this has happened?" he asked. 

"On the way here something weird happened, too. All the sounds got
incredibly loud. I thought my eardrums were going to explode. And then
it just stopped. Everything sounded normal again," Max told him. He
lowered his voice. "I thought at first maybe it was an alien thing. But
maybe it's -- " 

"You thought right," Ray jumped in. "Have you had any spells of extreme
fatigue?" 

"Uh, I guess, sort of. Once or twice," Max admitted, thinking back over
the past few weeks. He hadn't really thought anything about those
spells. 

Ray nodded, his expression grave. "You've just described the first stage
of the akino." 

"And that would be?" Max asked. He struggled to stay calm and rational,
even though there was something in Ray's tone that made Max's anxiety
level spike. Not to mention the streaks of sickly yellow invading the
blue-and-green whorls of Ray's aura. 

"Our race has a... collective consciousness," Ray explained. "It's like
a psychic Internet. All the knowledge, all the life experience, all the
emotions of all of our people are there in the consciousness. When a
young person reaches maturity, he or she is able to make the connection
to the consciousness for the first time. This rite of passage is called
the akino. The physical symptoms you've experienced -- the bursts of
heightened sensation, the fatigue -- are signals that it is time for you
to make your connection." 

Max breathed a sigh of relief. "So, it's a good thing, right?" Actually
it sounded more than good. It sounded awesome. The collective
consciousness would hold the answer to every question Max had about his
home planet, his people. 

He felt some of the tightness in his muscles ease a little. He didn't
have some hideous aliens-only disease. And Ray knew exactly what was
going on. He could walk Max through the whole akino deal. 

"Usually it would be a cause for celebration," Ray agreed. "Like a human
bar mitzvah or a wedding. But -- " 

"I know, I know. I live on earth. This is my home. I shouldn't waste
time thinking about a place I'll never go," Max interrupted. 

"That's not what I was going to say," Ray told him. "There is no
question that you must join the collective consciousness. And soon. But
we're too far away. You need... you need the communication crystals. And
they're on the ship." 

"The ship? The ship disappeared after the crash, remember? We don't know
where it is," Max protested. "Michael and I have been looking for it
practically our whole lives." 

Ray reached across the table and grabbed Max's hand. Which was weird.
Ray wasn't one of those touchy-feely guys. Max felt his muscles
retighten until his entire body ached. 

"Max, if you don't connect to the consciousness, you will die," Ray said
slowly and clearly. 

Die. The word sucked all the air out of Max's lungs and left him
gasping. 

No. It couldn't be. A few dizzy spells could not possibly equal a fatal
disease. 

"Wait," he protested. "I've lived on earth my whole life. You have no
way of knowing how that's changed my body. You can't be sure I'll
respond the same way I would have if I was on our home planet," Max said
in a rush. He tried to pull his hand free, but Ray tightened his grip. 

"You're right. I don't know how growing to maturity on this planet has
affected you. But here's what I do know," Ray answered. "I know that the
experiences you described to me -- the painfully loud sounds and bright
colors -- they're almost exactly what I went through myself when it was
my akino time." 

"That doesn't mean crap. I thought you were supposed to be a scientist
or something. Don't you think you're making a huge assumption here?" Max
demanded. He gave his hand another wrench, and this time Ray let it go. 

Max crossed his arms, tucking his hand against his body. But he could
still feel the tremors running through it. 

"Maybe you're right," Ray said gently. He used his sleeve to rub a
coffee stain off one of the little alien faces decorating the table.
"But just in case you're not, I -- " 

Max felt like he was about to lose it. He could already feel a lump
growing in his throat, and his eyes were getting so wet that another
blink might bring tears. 

He sprang out of his chair so quickly that it toppled. He caught it
before it hit the ground and slammed it back in place. Then he took a
long breath, pulling it deep into his lungs. "What do you want me to do
today?" he asked. "I know you're not paying me to grow my hair." 

Ray gave a small smile -- whether because Max had used one of Ray's
favorite expressions or because of his amazingly obvious subject change,
Max wasn't sure. "Why don't you go into the storage area and see if you
can find any more foo fighter stuff for the display?" 

"On it." Max took three steps away from the table, then turned. "Ray, if
you're right and I do have to connect to the consciousness, how much
time do I have?" 

"It's hard to say exactly," Ray admitted. "Maybe months. Maybe days." 

*** 2 *** 

"Is it closing time?" Maria DeLuca whined. "Please let it be closing
time." She slid her left heel out of her new shoe and studied the
massive blister growing there. 

"Five minutes," her best friend, Liz Ortecho, told her. "I don't know
why you wore those shoes to work, anyway." 

"In these shoes I actually approach tallness," Maria explained. "You
just don't know what it's like when you're my height. People act like
I'm some kind of mutant -- part girl, part puppy. Strangers pat me on
the head." 

That was the truth. Kind of. Maria did like being taller. But if she was
totally and completely honest, she chose the shoes more because of what
they did for her legs than what they did for her height. She'd have to
live in the gym to get the killer calves those shoes gave her. 

Liz's dad had broken down and bought new uniforms for the wait staff at
the Crashdown Cafe. They were basically Men in Black rip-offs. Except
Maria had gone for the black skirt instead of the black pants. And in
her new skirt, with the new shoes, well, it's not like she was suddenly
as beautiful as Liz or anything. But the combo definitely got her a few
more looks, and a few more tips, than usual. 

Unfortunately the guy she most wanted to do the looking, Michael Guerin,
hadn't shown up today. He hung out at the cafe a lot. Of course, he
never bothered to tell her in advance when he was going to stop by. That
would make things way too easy on her. And her feet. 

"People don't pat you on the head because you're short," Liz explained.
"It's because your hair looks so springy. People want to touch it to see
if it will go boing." 

"Oh, thanks for clarifying that." Maria tried to shoot Liz an annoyed
look but ruined it by breaking into giggles. 

"I'll collect the sugar bowls, and you can start filling them," Liz
said. "That way you can stay behind the counter... where probably no one
will notice that you aren't wearing shoes." 

Maria immediately kicked off the torture devices masquerading as
footwear. Aaaah! She gave her toes a happy wiggle, then knelt down to
grab the sugar. As she reached for the box, the opening notes of the
Close Encounters theme rang out. 

The door chime. Someone was coming in. Was it Michael? Without standing
up, Maria grabbed her left shoe and jammed her foot in. She felt an
explosion of wetness on her heel as her blister burst. She ignored the
pain and shoved on the right shoe, gripping the counter for balance.
Then she slowly stood up, trying for a casual,
I-have-no-idea-the-door-chime-even-rang coolness. 

Her casual smile faded when she saw Elsevan DuPris standing in front of
the cash register. The guy gave her the creeps. It's not that he wasn't
friendly. In fact, he was a little too friendly. And his southern
accent, it was a little too southern. It just sounded fake. Which
brought up the question -- why? Why would a person stroll around dressed
in a white suit and white shoes, twirling a walking stick and talking in
an obviously fake southern accent? 

DuPris was the editor-owner of the Astral Projector, Roswell's all-alien
tabloid. So you had to expect the guy to be a little eccentric. But he
was even eccentric in his eccentricity. 

"I'm doing a poll for my little paper, and I wondered if you'd be good
enough to assist me," DuPris drawled. "I believe there is a connection
between a person's ability to roll their tongue and alien inbreeding
somewhere in their lineage. I thought it would be interesting to see if
we have a greater number of people with this attribute in our fair town,
for obvious reasons." 

Liz rushed up to the counter and dropped a load of the
flying-saucer-shaped sugar bowls. "Sounds interesting. I'd love to see
your data sometime, but we're closed now, so -- " 

"So I'll say good night to you young ladies. And I'll be sure to bring
these, uh, experimental results by," DuPris said. He tipped his white
Panama hat and sauntered out the door. Liz followed him and locked it
the second he stepped outside. 

Maria smiled as she kicked off her shoes for the second time. Liz
definitely knew how to put people in their place when they needed it. If
she hadn't been around, Maria probably would have done the
tongue-rolling thing for DuPris, feeling like an idiot the whole time.
Then she'd probably have been sucked into a long conversation with him,
making feeble comments about needing to get back to work but not
actually being able to escape. 

Liz returned with an armful of ketchup bottles and lowered them to the
counter. Maria rolled her tongue at her. 

"So you're part alien," Liz teased. "Anything else you've been hiding?" 

"You already know I'm really a man, so I guess not," Maria answered. She
picked up the sugar box and started refilling the bowls. 

"Just checking," Liz said. "Keeping secrets from me is a serious
violation. I don't want to have to bring you up in front of the best
friend review board." She ducked behind the counter and headed into the
kitchen. 

Maria shot a glance after her. Liz was doing that kind of joking around
that has a little truth lurking somewhere in the background. And the
truth was that Maria hadn't been totally up front with her best friend
lately. 

Liz returned to the counter with a big plastic jug of ketchup and a
funnel. "Okay, okay. I wore these shoes because I was hoping Michael
would come by," Maria blurted. "And yes, I have a totally hopeless,
pathetic thing for him." 

Liz laughed. "I knew that already. I was actually talking about the
whole psychic powers episode. How could you not tell me about something
so big?" She unscrewed the top on the closest ketchup bottle and stuck
in the funnel. 

Maria felt a blush creeping up her neck. In a second her whole face
would be red. "I still feel like such a loser. I can't believe I
actually thought I was psychic. You should have seen me. I was so
jazzed, thinking I had this amazing gift. It was so incredible to hold
something that belonged to a person and then be able to see exactly what
they were doing. And healing Sassy. That was awesome." 

"You shouldn't feel like a loser. How could you have known?" Liz asked.
"Like you were supposed to think, 'Hey maybe that ring I found at the
mall has an alien power stone in it. '" 

Liz pushed the ketchup bottle away and turned to face Maria. "What I
want to know is why you didn't tell me what was going on," she said, her
dark brown eyes serious and watchful. 

I really hurt her feelings, Maria realized. Duh. Like I wouldn't have
been hurt if I found out Liz had been keeping some big secret from me. 

"I wasn't trying to shut you out or anything," Maria explained. "It's
just that you weren't doing too well. You were so messed up over the Max
sitch. There didn't seem to be a good time to bring it up." 

"Maria, no matter what's going on with me, I still want to know what's
going on with you," Liz said. "If you'd told me, maybe I could have -- "

"Stop," Maria interrupted. "You and Max act like you're responsible for
everybody else's problems. It's so not true." 

She gave a long sigh. "You know what, if I told you, there is a chance
you would have stopped me before..." 

"Before you almost died," Liz filled in. 

"Yeah. And that's probably why I didn't say anything to you. I didn't
want to be stopped. I told myself I wasn't clueing you in to what was
going on because you were devastated by the whole Max thing. But that's
only partly true. I basically knew I was playing with something
dangerous. I kept getting blackouts, even a nasty nosebleed." 

Maria heard Liz give a sharp intake of breath, but she didn't stop
talking. She had to get this out. "But I didn't want to stop using the
powers -- or be stopped by you -- until I found out where Michael's
parents' ship was being kept." 

"So this was all about Michael," Liz said. 

"I had some stupid idea that if I could do that for him..." Maria shook
her head hard. "Forget it. It's too stupid to even say." 

"It's not stupid," Liz told her. "Well, okay, it's stupid. But
understandable stupid. Not just stupid stupid." 

"That makes me feel better," Maria mumbled. Then she met Liz's gaze
directly. "It does. It feels good to have told you the total truth." 

"So, we're agreed. No more secrets," Liz said. 

"No more secrets," Maria promised. She pushed up the hinged section of
the counter and stepped through, then grabbed a couple of the sugar
bowls and headed toward the closest row of tables. 

"Maria," Liz called. 

Maria turned to face her. She should have known Liz wouldn't let her off
the hook without more of a lecture on putting her life in jeopardy. 

"Why don't you tell Michael how you feel?" Liz asked. 

"Why?" Maria repeated. She blushed, then hugged the sugar bowls more
tightly to her chest. "Because if I do that, he might laugh. Or he might
start acting all weird around me. Or he might just avoid me." Maria
could hear her voice shaking with emotion, but she kept going. "He might
stop climbing through my window late at night... and I don't think I
could stand that." 

"You know what else might happen?" Liz asked gently. "He might tell you
he feels the same way about you." 

*** 3 *** 

"All right, so I'm thinking, for this week's list, 'Bills That I'd
Rather Be Than Me. ' Number one: Bill Gates. Number two: Billy Baldwin.
Number three: Mr. Bill. What do you guys think? Is that stupid?" 

Same spot in the quad as at lunch yesterday. Same people. Practically
the same conversation, with Alex going on about ideas for the lists he
put on his web site, Liz thought. Then she smiled. She wouldn't want it
any other way. 

"How about terms for guys who spend way too much time thinking about
their web page?" Michael suggested. "Number one -- wedgie boy." 

"Hey, you know how many hits I get? My lists have a following. It's
practically a cult thing," Alex protested. 

"Number two -- big goober," Maria suggested. 

Liz noticed that Isabel wasn't jumping in to defend her man. She wasn't
sure what she thought about the Alex-Isabel hookup. It's not that she
didn't like Isabel. Liz was actually feeling closer to her all the time.
But she and Alex... they just weren't an obvious couple. They had some
of that I'm-a-little-bit-country / I'm-a-little-bit-rock-and-roll deal
going on. 

Isabel was the ultimate It girl. The girl who got noticed and envied,
lusted after, hated, or some combination thereof by pretty much
everyone. 

Alex was, well -- 

"Or how about geek child," Maria volunteered, snickering. 

No, Alex wasn't exactly geeky. But he didn't stand out of the crowd the
way Isabel did. You had to get to know him before you realized how
totally cool he was. He had this great, wacked sense of humor, and when
he believed in something, he absolutely would not back down. Plus he had
amazing green eyes, rich reddish brown hair, and a lean, muscular body. 

It wasn't hard for Liz to see why a girl would want to be with him. Lots
of girls, actually. But Isabel? Liz shook her head. Hey, if it worked,
it worked. And it seemed to be working. 

"Come on, Liz, Max. Join the fun. Take your best shot," Alex told her.
He slammed his fists into his chest. "I can take it." 

"Uh, cyberweenie?" Liz offered. 

"Does anyone want the rest of this sandwich?" Max asked. 

"I'll take it," Alex and Michael said together. 

Liz shot a sharp look at Max. He'd pretty much fainted last week, out of
the blue. Since then she'd asked him a few times if he was feeling okay,
and he kept insisting that he was. But she believed in going by the
facts -- the fact that he seemed lethargic a lot of the time, the fact
that he wasn't eating much, the fact that his skin had a slightly
grayish tone. And the facts made her doubt him. 

She didn't want a repeat of the Maria situation. If there was something
wrong with Max, she needed to know about it. 

The bell rang. Isabel and Maria slowly headed to their English class.
Michael and Alex took off in opposite directions. Leaving her alone with
Max. 

"Ready for another adventure in the wonderful world of science?" he
asked her as he shoved himself to his feet. 

He sounded normal. Except that his voice was a little too bright, like
he was straining for his usual tone and overshooting it. 

"Always," Liz answered. She heard that same quality in her voice, that
see-there's-really-nothing-wrong sound. 

This was so ridiculous. She loved Max, and she knew he loved her. Yeah,
they had agreed -- well, Max had insisted, and Liz had agreed -- that
they would be just friends. 

But did that mean they had to be so phony? Why couldn't he trust her
with the truth -- whatever it was? Why couldn't she just tell him to cut
the bull and tell her what was going on? 

Maybe it's because we're still being careful with each other, Liz
thought as they made their way to the main building. We've managed to
create this friend facade over the mess of our relationship. But it's
not that strong. Maybe we both know it would be very easy to destroy it.

Liz led the way inside and over to the staircase. She and Max climbed in
silence. She could hear his breathing pick up as they got near the top.
Another fact to add to the pile. Max was in good shape. A few stairs
shouldn't" get him breathing hard. 

Liz shortened her stride as they walked down the hall to give Max a
chance to catch his breath. "I read over the experiment we're doing
today. It sounds pretty interesting," she said as they entered the
classroom and took their places in their usual lab station. 

Max didn't answer. 

Liz Ortecho, Queen of Idle Chitchat, she thought. 

"We have another long one today," Ms. Hardy announced. "You can go ahead
and get started. I'll work my way to all of you, but flag me down if you
have questions." 

"I'll set up the Bunsen burner," Max said. 

"I'll weigh the samples," Liz volunteered. 

At least this was something they didn't have to fake. They both took
their lab work seriously. And they were a good team. 

Liz pulled the scale out of the cupboard -- pretty grimy. She stepped up
to the sink, turned on the water, dampened a long piece of brown paper
towel, and scrubbed the scale clean. Don't these amateur scientists know
that a dirty scale can corrupt all your data? she thought. 

"Max," Ms. Hardy called from a lab station near the front of the room,
"that flame is much too high." 

Liz glanced over. Ms. Hardy was right. The Bunsen burner's flame was
inches above where it needed to be. And the tip of Max's finger was
right in the middle of the fire! 

The odor of cooking meat hit her nose, and her throat clenched in a dry
gag. What was he doing? Couldn't he feel that he was burning himself?
Liz shot out her hand and twisted off the gas. The flame disappeared. 

"Max, are you okay?" Liz demanded. "Let me see your finger." She reached
for his hand. 

"It's fine," Max snapped. He jerked his hand away. 

"It can't be fine," she shot back. "You were holding it in the fire. And
your skin... Max, your skin was bubbling." 

*** 

"I've got to go change for practice," Isabel said, but she didn't pull
away from Alex. What he was doing just felt too good. Except that the
way he was leaning into her was jamming her lower back against one of
the bleacher's metal steps. 

"I could help you," Alex mumbled against her ear, his warm breath
sending spikes of pleasure through her body. He reached between them and
started unbuttoning her blouse. 

Isabel grabbed his hand. "Thanks, but I think I can handle it." Their
position back alongside the bleachers would prevent most people from
seeing them. But still. 

Alex slowly rebuttoned the buttons. Then he smoothed down her collar and
brushed a lock of her hair back in place. Sometimes he could be so
tender. It made Isabel feel like she was turning all liquid inside. 

"Is-a-bel!" Stacey Scheinin's high, baby-doll voice echoed through the
gym. "Get a move on. You can't afford to miss one minute of practice.
We're going to watch a video of our last halftime show before we start.
You'll see what I mean." 

"Want me to kill her for you?" Alex asked. 

"Maybe for my birthday," Isabel answered. She gave him a quick gotta-go
kiss and jumped away before he could get his hands on her again. 

"Remember tonight's the night you're having dinner at my house," Alex
said. 

"Like I'd forget," Isabel answered. How could she? She'd been trying to
think of a good excuse to get out of it all week. She'd met his mom once
for about two seconds, and she seemed nice enough. But his dad sounded
obnoxious. And then there were two of his brothers. Alex hardly ever
talked about them, so she didn't really know what to expect. 

"I'll see you in a few hours." She turned around and headed to the
locker room. She was careful not to hurry. Stacey was holding the door
for her, giving her a little frown that was meant to be intimidating.
Isabel flashed a quick smile to show that it wasn't. 

"Everyone, Isabel needs our help," Stacey called as she followed Isabel
down the row of lockers. "She has a new boy who is in serious need of a
makeover. I know you've all seen him. Any suggestions? I was thinking
maybe an 'I heart Isabel tattoo." 

Isabel thought about saying she'd just been doing a little charity work,
giving Alex a thrill. It's not like he could hear her or anything. He'd
never know. 

But she'd feel like scum. It wasn't worth it. 

"Yeah, a tattoo's a great idea. Isabel could get a matching one,"
someone called from the next row. 

One of Stacey's court. They all copied that affected little voice of
hers. Pathetic sheep. 

"He doesn't look like he has a lot of money, going by his clothes,
anyway," another Staceyette commented. "I say he should go with
something cheap. Like a nice paper bag over the head." 

Yeah, and if Stacey was going out with him, you'd be saying how gorgeous
he was, Isabel thought. She sat down on the wooden bench in front of her
locker and twisted in the combination. It wouldn't open. She tried it
again. Still wouldn't open. Then she realized that her locker was the
next one over. 

"What else?" Stacey called, bouncing on her toes. "One tattoo and one
paper bag's not going to do it. Come on, our teammate needs our help." 

Tish Okabe sat down next to Isabel. "I think Alex is a cutie," she said
loudly. 

"You think everyone is a cutie," at least three girls yelled back. 

Isabel snapped open her lock, pulled it off, and swung open the metal
door. It was nice of Tish to defend Alex. But Isabel knew she should be
doing it herself. She just didn't know what to say. Stacey would pounce
on anything that came out of her mouth and twist it around. Maybe it was
better just to ignore her. 

Yeah, Isabel thought. You keep telling yourself that. Or you could just
grow a backbone, as Alex would say. 

"I'm not surprised you can't figure out what I see in Alex, Stacey,"
Isabel said coolly. "It's like how some people would rather eat a burger
than filet mignon. Their palates just aren't sophisticated enough to
appreciate the difference." 

"Aw, isn't that sweet? She's standing by her man," Stacey cooed. 

Isabel felt like knocking Stacey on her butt. 

"You know who I think is filet mignon?" Corrine Williams asked Isabel.
"Your brother. I'm having a party on Friday. Tell Max to come. And bring
that other guy you're always hanging around with -- Michael Guerin." 

"Yeah," Stacey jumped in. "If you get both of them there, then I guess
you can bring Alex, too." She licked her finger and made a little
one-point-for-me mark in the air. 

Chalk one up while you can, Princess of Petty. Because you don't have a
snowball's chance at Max or Michael, Isabel thought. But she couldn't
help feeling a sting of shame that Alex didn't make the cool-people cut.

*** 4 *** 

"I don't have a big desire to be a squid. Except maybe a squid like
Squidly Diddly," Alex told his brother as they set the table. "Or was he
an octopus? No. Had to be a squid. Hence the Squidly." 

Jesse just stared at him, in a have-you-lost-your-mind kind of way. 

"It's a cartoon. It's on the Cartoon Network," Alex explained. "They
have Speed Racer. Scooby Doo. All the classics." 

"First of all, marines aren't called squids -- that's the navy. Marines
are called jarheads. Not by punks like you, though -- you'd just earn
yourself a beating if you tried it," Jesse told him. "And second, do
they have that one cartoon, Josie and the Pussycats! Because those
Pussycats are hot." 

Alex laughed. Jesse was definitely the coolest of his three brothers.
Yeah, he had just given Alex the speech, the "you have got to be a
military man" speech. But at least Jesse occasionally thought about, and
even talked about, other stuff. Unlike their dad. And their other
brother Harry, who was also home for a visit. 

Fortunately for Alex his third big brother, Robert, couldn't make it
home this time. Alex didn't think he could handle a four-part surround
sound lecture on why he should go straight into the military after grad.
The three-pronged attack mounted by Jesse, Harry, and his father had
been rough enough. And Alex suspected it still wasn't over. 

"Being a marine, it changes your life," Jesse said. 

Nope. It definitely wasn't over. 

"It's like you have a whole new family," Jesse continued. "Or at least
like you have a bigger family." 

A bigger family. Yeah. That sounded real appealing. 

Harry wandered into the dining room and plopped down on one of the
chairs. "You girls are doing such a nice job with the table," he cooed. 

"Thanks. We put a pretty red bowl on the kitchen floor for you," Jesse
shot back. "We thought you might be more comfortable in there since we
have company coming and you still haven't quite mastered the use of
silverware." 

"Company?" Harry asked. "Oh, right. We get to meet Alex's little
girlfriend." 

Little girlfriend. Alex knew his brother was expecting some geek girl.
He couldn't wait to see Harry's face when he got an eyeful of Isabel.
Okay, that sounded a little piggish. And he apologized to the goddesses
of womanhood or whatever. But it was still going to feel pretty good to
show Harry -- and Jesse, and even the old man -- that little brother was
playing in the big leagues you? 

Harry leaned back until his chair was balanced on two legs. "So, I just
got off the phone with Alice Shaffer," he told Alex. 

Alex put the last fork in place. "Who?" he asked. 

"Your principal," Harry answered. "She said you never gave her the ROTC
application materials." He rocked back and forth, making the chair legs
creak. "She said you've never mentioned the ROTC to her period." 

Alex felt like kicking that chair right out from under his brother. Just
because their dad was totally obsessed with starting an ROTC program at
the high school, why did Harry have to get all involved? 

"The three of us have an appointment with her tomorrow at four," Harry
continued. "Dad wants you to come," he informed Jesse. "He thinks you
and I will be great and shining examples of what the ROTC program can
do. You better keep your mouth shut so you don't blow it." 

"I lost the application Dad gave me," Alex said. "I'm waiting to get a
new one in the mail. There's no point in having a meeting without it." 

Not a very creative excuse. Only about half a step above the dog ate it,
which he couldn't have used because they didn't have a dog. 

"Got it covered," Harry answered. "Dad told me to bring one with me." 

Oh, happy day. 

Jesse shot Alex a semisympathetic look. "You didn't actually think you
were getting out of it, did 

"I guess not," Alex admitted. 

But he'd been doing everything he could to block his dad on this one.
He'd thought of it as practice. A way of preparing for the big battle --
the one where he told the Major that he wasn't planning on a military
career. 

Just because you get muscled into helping set up an ROTC program at
school, and being unable to escape joining said program, doesn't mean
that you'll end up in the military, Alex promised himself. 

He wished he believed that. 

"We should think about what we're going to say," Harry told Jesse.
"Alex's principal didn't sound all that excited about the program." 

"I'm not saying anything, remember?" Jesse answered. 

"Fine," Harry said. "Alex, I want to go over what clubs and
organizations you already have at school. That way I -- " 

The doorbell rang, interrupting him. "I'll get it." Alex bolted before
Harry could say another word. He swung open the door, and a big, doofy
grin spread across his face. He didn't think he'd ever been so happy to
see Isabel. 

"Hey, you look really beautiful," he said, careful to keep his voice
low. Harry and Jesse would fall on the floor laughing if they heard him.

But Isabel did look beautiful... as usual. Except tonight she looked
dressed-up beautiful. She was wearing this shiny, clingy dress with
embroidered roses growing up from the bottom. And her blond hair fell
down across her shoulders in perfect waves. 

"Thanks," Isabel answered. "So, are you going to introduce me?" 

Alex turned around and saw his brothers standing there. And his dad
halfway down the stairs. His stomach kind of seized up for a minute. His
dad tended to have that effect on him. 

"That's my brother Jesse. That's Harry. And that's my dad," Alex said. 

"And I'm Isabel Evans," she added. She shook hands with all of them. 

Duh! He forgot half the introduction! But Isabel jumped right in there.
She was good at impressing people and making them feel at ease. At least
when she felt like bothering. 

"Why are you all standing around in the hall?" his mother called. "Come
on in the living room." 

They all obediently trooped in. Alex and Isabel sat on the love seat.
Usually he'd put his arm around her. But it just felt too weird in front
of his family. 

"So, Isabel... Alex is helping me figure out how to get your principal
to agree to an ROTC program at your school," Harry told her. "Any
ideas?" 

What a butt kisser. Alex was sure that Harry just wanted to show his dad
that he was on top of the ROTC situation. Harry was twenty-two years
old... and still living to please daddy. 

"Maybe you could try telling her that it's sort of like cheerleading,"
Isabel answered. "Stacey Scheinin, the head cheerleader, is pretty much
a drill sergeant. Except she has this little Minnie Mouse voice." 

Alex braced himself for the explosion. He didn't think his dad would
like the cheerleader-ROTC comparison. But his dad just laughed. And kept
on laughing as Isabel launched into an impersonation of Stacey and the
other girls on the squad. 

His mom and brothers were laughing, too. And the little glances Harry
and Jesse kept shooting at Isabel made it pretty clear they thought she
was hot. 

But Isabel was his girl. Alex enjoyed being the enviable sibling, for
once in his short life. 

*** 

Max picked up the lighter and turned it over and over in his hands. He
could see the fluid sloshing around inside through the green plastic. 

He flicked it on and stared at the flame, thinking about the Bunsen
burner in lab class. That flame had dazzled his eyes until all he could
see was a wall of flickering orange and yellow. The whole lab had
disappeared. Liz had disappeared. And Max had been surrounded by a
beautiful, horrible fire that felt like it was melting his eyes with the
brilliance of its colors. 

Liz said he'd been holding his finger in the flame, but he hadn't felt
anything except the sensation of his eyes dripping out of their sockets
and mixing with the flames. 

Max put down the lighter and clicked open his laptop. He selected a file
called fertilizer. He'd called the file that because every once in a
while his mom or dad or Isabel borrowed his computer, and he thought the
file name akino would get their attention. So would the word death.
Fertilizer, that wasn't something that any of them would be tempted to
take a peek at. And it seemed appropriate. Fertilizer, that's what he
would become. Something to help the flowers grow. Worm food. 

Can you say morbid? Max asked himself. 

Max typed in the date and added a short description of what he'd
experienced in the lab. When he got enough data, he planned to start
charting it. How many bursts of intense vision, how many of intense
sound, how many of... whatever new symptoms appeared. He wanted to get a
sense of how fast the akino was progressing. 

Treating the akino like a science project helped make it feel like
something outside himself. Something clinical. Impersonal. He even
called himself patient X in his notes. Patient X experienced blindness.
Patient X experienced a sensation he described as a drumstick stabbing
into his brain. Patient X's thoughts seem to be of the morbid variety.
Patient X's skin was reported to bubble after being exposed to flame. 

That's what Liz had said. That his skin had bubbled. Patient X, Max
corrected himself. A witness reported that patient X's skin had bubbled.

Max picked up the lighter again. It would be better to have a firsthand
account for the file. Firsthand. Ha! A pun! Patient X still had a sense
of humor. He clicked on the lighter, hesitated, then held his left index
finger over the flame. 

He felt warmth, but not pain. Even when he caught a whiff of something
that smelled like hot dogs on a barbecue, he didn't feel any pain. And
he had to agree with the witness's observation. His skin was bubbling. -
! v 

Max lifted his thumb off the lighter, and the flame disappeared. The
bubbles on his finger grew smaller, then stopped forming altogether,
leaving his skin looking completely normal. No redness. No blistering.
He rubbed his finger across his desk. No pain. 

Fascinating. Patient X's case was truly fascinating. 

Max heard a fast double knock on his door. He quickly flipped to a blank
screen as Isabel barged in and flopped down on his bed. 

"I've earned so many brownie points tonight, so many," she announced,
smiling her most smug smile. "Everyone in Alex's family loves Isabel.
The mom, the brothers. Even the dad." 

"Uh, that's good," Max answered. 

Even coming up with those three words was hard. Patient X was having
difficulty with basic interpersonal interaction. He had to remember to
write that down. 

Isabel gave a sniff. "Have you been doing one of your chemistry
experiments in here? It reeks. You're supposed to use the garage,
remember?" 

"Yeah. Forgot," he muttered. 

Now was the time to tell her everything. Max had planned to tell her --
and Michael, and everybody -- about the akino yesterday night. And then
again at lunch today. But he couldn't do it. 

If he talked to them, he'd be talking about he, Max, not patient X,
being about to die. He'd also be talking about his sister and his best
friend, who would eventually die from the akino, too. Not just two more
case studies to add to the file. 

He couldn't deal with that. Not that. 

Maybe he wouldn't have to. Maybe he would find the crystals in time.
Maybe there would be a miracle cure for patient X. Maybe. 

*** 5 *** 

Why don't you tell Michael how you feel? 

Liz had made it sound like it was no big deal. Like why don't you tell
Michael that you love cats? Or why don't you tell Michael that you love
horror movies? Or why don't you tell Michael that you're particularly
fond of cottage cheese with raisins? 

Just thinking about it -- about telling Michael how she felt about him
-- stressed Maria out. She sat up and fumbled around on her nightstand
for her little bottle of eucalyptus oil. That's what she needed right
now. A walk among the calm, ancient trees, where she could forget about
Liz, Michael, and everything else. 

She sprinkled a few drops of the oil on her pillowcase. The scent of
eucalyptus instantly filled her nose. Eucalyptus. Which, of course,
reminded her of Michael. 

Liz would probably say it was some kind of Freudian sprinkle, a message
from Maria's unconscious telling her to get her butt out of bed and over
to Michael's to confess her feelings. But Liz was a bad friend who gave
bad advice. Like, for example, her all-star suggestion: "Why don't you
tell Michael how you feel?" 

She grabbed the phone and hit speed dial number one. Liz answered on the
second ring. 

"I hate you," Maria burst out without even. saying hello. 

"Maria?" Liz mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. 

Maria shot a glance at the clock. Almost one-thirty. "Sorry, I didn't
know it was so late," she said. 

"But you just had to call to say you hate me?" Liz sounded equal parts
confused and amused. 

"Yeah. I do. I really do. How could you tell me that I should open up to
Michael?" Maria knew she was talking way too fast, but she couldn't stop
herself. 

"So... so he didn't feel the same way? What did he say? Tell me
everything," Liz instructed. 

"He didn't say anything," Maria admitted. 

"What? He just stared at you?" Liz asked. 

"No, he didn't say anything because I didn't tell him," Maria answered.
"I don't know if I can." 

"Of course you can," Liz insisted. 

"See, this is why I hate you. This is why you're a bad, bad friend. A
good friend would listen to me talk about Michael a couple of hours
every day and never, ever suggest that I should actually do anything
about it." 

"Slow down," Liz said. "I'm taking notes. Good friend equals wimp who
only tells Maria what she wants to hear." 

Maria sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm being a total lunatic. Go back to sleep." 

"Wait. Just tell me one thing first. What's the worst thing that could
happen if you tell Michael?" Liz asked. 

Maria hesitated, running her fingers over the dozens of wrinkles in her
bottom sheet. "Sometimes its like I can feel this little glowing spot
way down inside me, the place that's filled with... how I feel about
Michael," Maria began, trying to explain her worst fear. 

"With love, you mean," Liz interrupted. 

"Fine, make me say it," Maria answered. "Loooove. Anyway, bringing up
this glowing spot... well, it might not be pretty. I keep thinking about
those fish that live way down in the ocean. When they get hooked and
pulled to the surface -- kablooey! Fish guts everywhere. They just
explode." 

"So you could explode, which I have to say is physiologically very
unlikely, or, and I feel I must say this again at the risk of being a
bad, bad friend, Michael could say he feels the same way about you," Liz
said. 

Her words brought a new image to Maria's mind. A picture of that little
glowing piece of her rising up and exploding into a skyful of stars.
Stars that shared the sky with other stars, stars from a little glowing
piece of Michael. 

"Well, he did kiss me twice. That's one indicator that maybe he could
possibly feel the same way. Or really two indicators," Maria told Liz. 

"Describe, please," Liz ordered, then gave a big yawn. 

"Both were on the lips," Maria answered. "But both were really fast. And
one had an element of gratitude -- because I was helping him find his
parents' ship. And one had an element of fear -- because he thought I
was practically, you know, dead. So I don't know if they really mean
anything." Maria pulled in a deep breath of the eucalyptus-scented air
and rushed on. "Okay, maybe they mean he doesn't think of me in a
totally little sister-esque way. But they definitely don't mean
Michael's looking for some kind of pledge of endless love from me." 

"You're leaving out one really important fact. Michael almost got
himself killed trying to save your life," Liz reminded her. 

"But he probably would have done the same thing for anyone in the
group," Maria answered. "Besides, if he really does feel the same way,
why isn't he over here right now? Why isn't he kissing me, a real kiss
that lasts more than two seconds?" 

"Only one way to find out," Liz said. 

"Yeah, I should just put myself out of my misery, I guess," Maria
agreed. "I'm going to do it. Right now. Before I can talk myself out of
it." She hung up without letting Liz say good-bye. Then she picked the
phone back up and hit redial. Liz answered immediately. 

"I just wanted to say that I don't really hate you," Maria announced,
and then hung up again. 

She climbed out of bed and crept over to her closet. She knew she had to
keep moving so she wouldn't chicken out. Now the important question.
"What should I wear?" she muttered. "I wonder if I have anything that
goes well with exploded guts." 

She gave a low growl of frustration. She grabbed her favorite pair of
jeans and a nubby dark green sweater and threw them on. Then she tiptoed
out of the house. 

She wished she could take the car, but she was afraid the sound would
wake up her morn. She pulled her bike out of the garage instead. She
hesitated for a moment, standing motionless in the driveway. Maybe it
would be smarter to just go back into the house and hit myself on the
head with something heavy enough to knock me out for a few hours, she
thought. 

No, she'd gotten this far. Maria climbed on the bike and started to
pedal. She decided it was a good thing she hadn't been able to drive.
The pedaling gave her an outlet for all her nervous energy. Maybe she
could burn most of it out before she got to Michael's. Maria pumped
harder, flying down the dark streets. 

It didn't take her long to reach the Pascals'. Maria jumped off her bike
and laid it down next to the low hedge growing alongside the driveway.
Then she hurried over to the side gate leading to the Pascals' backyard
and slipped through. She circled around to Michael's window. It was open
a few inches. All she had to do was slide it up and crawl through. 

Yeah, that was all. Plus the whole telling-Michael-she-loved-him thing. 

Maria looked up at the sky. She thought maybe the stars would give her
the inspiration she needed. Or the courage. Or whatever it was she
needed to get herself through the last few feet that separated her from
Michael. 

But the sky was cloudy. Not a star to be seen. Maria turned in a slow
circle. She really needed to see one star before she did this. Just one
stinking star. 

The window rattled up. "So are you coming in or aren't you?" a low voice
asked. 

Maria couldn't stop a stupid little squeak from escaping her lips. She
jerked her head toward the window and saw Michael grinning at her. 

"Coming in," Maria answered. "I mean, if it's okay." 

Michael reached out his hand and helped her scramble inside. "Dylan's
asleep, so..." 

"No, I'm not." Dylan, Michael's thirteen-year-old foster brother, sat up
in bed. "Hey, Maria." 

"Hi," she whispered. Suddenly she felt like a complete idiot. This was
not going to work. How was she supposed to make some romantic speech
with Dylan in the next bed and Michael's foster parents asleep a couple
of rooms away? 

"Dylan, there's one piece of pie left. Why don't you go get it?" Michael
asked softly. 

"You know we have rules against eating between meals," Dylan answered,
his voice filled with indignation. Then he snickered and ducked out of
the room. 

Michael sat down on his bed. Maria hesitated, trying to decide if she
should sit on his bed, too, or sit on Dylan's instead. Stop being such
an idiot, she ordered herself, and dropped down next to Michael. 

"Um, how was school?" she blurted, without looking at him. 

"How was school?" Michael repeated. 

"Um, yeah, I mean, are the classes a lot harder when you're a senior?
Should I be worried?" Maria added. 

Oh my God. What am I saying? Maria asked herself. She shot a glance at
Michael to see if he'd started trying to make a straitjacket out of his
sheet. 

He hadn't. But for the first time Maria realized Michael was wearing
only a pair of boxers and a T-shirt. Which didn't help the babbling
problem she was having. The guy was just too gorgeous. 

"And I was also thinking you could help me decide which electives to
take next year," she rambled on. "Since, you know, you've taken some of
them." 

"So you came over to get advice on if you should take wood shop or choir
next year?" Michael asked. 

"Yes. No. I don't know," Maria said in a rush. She really wished she had
the vial of cedar now. She needed to calm down -- badly. She settled for
a deep breath. Then she turned to face Michael. It was ridiculous to sit
here talking to the wall the way she'd been doing. 

"No. Definitely no. That's not why I came over," Maria said firmly,
talking directly to Michael's shoulder so she wouldn't have to see the
expression on his face. Then she forced herself to meet his gaze. "I
came over because I never thanked you for saving my life. Thank you." 

It wasn't what she'd come over here to say. But it was something she'd
been wanting to tell him. And it was a big improvement over spewing
about school. 

"I thought you were going to die," Michael admitted, his voice husky. "I
was terrified." 

Then he was kissing her. Not one of those quick, friendly kisses. A
hard, hot kiss, unlike anything Maria had ever experienced. It felt like
that glowing piece of her was expanding, filling her whole body with
heat and light. Molten heat. Blinding light. Shattering. 

As suddenly as the kiss started, it ended. Michael pulled away and
stared at her as if he couldn't believe what had just happened. 

"I was scared you were going to die, too," Maria told him. She slid her
arms around his neck and pressed her head against his shoulder. She
wondered if he could feel her trembling. She wondered if he knew it was
because that kiss had knocked the world out from under her feet. "It
would have been my fault." 

"No, don't think that," Michael mumbled into her hair. 

"It's true, though," she insisted. "I should have known something bad
was happening. I should have stopped using the ring. But I wanted to
find it for you so badly." 

"What?" Michael grabbed her shoulders and held her away from him. "You
let me think what you were doing was totally safe. You kept telling me
not to worry!" 

"I know, but I thought... I thought I could find your parents' ship. I
know how important it is to you, and I... I, um -- " 

"But you almost died! Why would you do that, Maria?" 

"That's what I'm trying to tell you!" Maria cried. "I did it because --
" 

"There's no reason good enough to put yourself in that kind of danger.
It has to be the stupidest thing you've ever done," Michael told her,
his voice low and tight with anger. 

Maria was completely unprepared for this. What happened to her plan --
crawl in the window, lay her feelings on the table, and deal with the
consequences? Now she felt her mind swimming through an ocean of guilt,
searching for explanations. And she couldn't deal with it. 

"I -- I have to go," she mumbled. She pushed herself away from him and
bolted to the window. Michael didn't say a word to stop her as she
scrambled out and fell hard to the ground. 

She picked herself up and ran to her bike. She climbed on and pedaled
hard down the street. The wind dried her hot tears as they spilled down
her cheeks. 

She hadn't even gotten the chance to tell Michael why it was so
important to her to find the ship. All she'd wanted to say was that she
did it because she loved him. 

*** 6 *** 

"You drive, okay?" Max asked. He tossed the keys to Michael. 

Michael circled around the Jeep and climbed behind the wheel. He didn't
think he'd ever driven the Jeep when Max was around to drive it himself.
"Are you feeling all right?" he asked. 

"Yep," Max answered. "Just, I don't know, kind of tired." 

Michael shot a doubting glance at Max, then turned over the ignition and
pulled the Jeep out into the street. "Anyplace special you want to
search?" he asked. 

They had a weird role-reversal thing going on. Usually Max helped search
for their parents' ship basically to keep Michael company. But tonight
it had been Max's idea to go out. It wasn't even their usual day. 

"I don't know. I thought we could look for that rock Maria saw when she
used the Stone to track Valenti. The one she said was shaped like a
chicken," Max answered. 

Maria. A burst of white-hot anger blazed in Michael just thinking about
what she'd done. She'd known using that stone to see Valenti was
dangerous, but she didn't stop. Oh no. That would be too rational. She
didn't even wait until he could be with her, to watch her and make sure
she was okay. The girl needed a keeper. "I - 

"Valenti was at home the first time Maria used the Stone to see him,"
Michael told Max. "Then she tried again less than an hour later. That's
when she saw him drive by the rock. So we should pick a direction and
head out into the desert for about forty-five minutes. Then start
searching in a big circle around town." 

"When you say it that way, it sounds so easy," Max commented. He gave a
weird, wheezing laugh. 

"So, do you have a preference in direction or not?" Michael asked. 

"Not," Max answered. 

Michael kept the Jeep pointed straight ahead. They'd hit the desert
eventually. The only bad thing about the long drive was that it gave him
way too much time to think. His mind kept going back to Maria's visit to
his room last night. It had completely messed him up, disturbed him in
so many different ways. 

"I found out something you will not believe," Michael announced. "Maria
knew she was putting herself in danger by trying to track Valenti with
the ring. And she lied right to my face. She looked right at me and told
me not to worry, acted like I was being overprotective." 

"Hmmm," Max murmured. 

"That's it? Hmmm?" Michael shook his head. "Maria, she's just not the
kind of girl who lies. I mean, I can see if she got too excited about
her power to be careful. But lying." He shook his head again. 

"Yeah. If Maria lied, you can bet she had her reasons," Max agreed. 

Michael snorted. "I guess so. She's different than Isabel. Izzy lies
just to entertain herself. She's like one of those Siamese cats. You
know -- totally self-interested, way too beautiful, way too aware of the
fact, and totally willing to use it to get what she wants." 

"So if Isabel's a cat, what does that make Maria?" Max asked. 

"Something in the puppy line. Like maybe a golden retriever pup. Blond
and fluffy. Sweet. Eager to please." 

"Advice. You might not want to let Maria in on your golden retriever
analogy," Max said, then returned his attention to the search, flicking
his eyes back and forth across the desert. He clearly wasn't letting
anything get past him. 

That was good because about one second later Michael's thoughts returned
to Maria again. "I just wish I knew why she did it," he burst out. "It's
driving me nuts." 

In the silence that followed, Michael realized that he already knew why
she did it. Maria knew if she had told him the truth, he would have made
her stop using the power. And she'd wanted to find the ship so badly.
That's what she'd said. 

No, actually what she'd said was, "I wanted to find it tor you so
badly." For him. 

He thought about asking Max if that meant Maria was... what, like in
love with him or something. Or if it just meant they were friends, and
she was looking for the ship because she wanted to help him out as a
friend. No, that was way too girlie. 

Bring on the barf bags. 

"Is that something over there?" Max asked, his voice tense and urgent.
He pointed to a rock off to the left. 

Michael slowed down and studied it. "I don't think so," he answered. "It
looks like your basic rock to me. Not a chicken rock." 

"This is impossible!" Max cried. 

"Maybe," Michael admitted. "But at least with what Maria saw, we know
the ship is still intact. And we know it's been -- or still is being --
kept somewhere close by. We're closer to finding it than we've ever been
before." 

"Yeah, now it will only take us ten or twenty more years to find it,"
Max muttered. 

Man, things must be really bad between Max and Liz again. Max was
obviously having major escape fantasies. Michael knew all about those.
When he was a little kid, and even not so little, he'd spent a ton of
hours wishing he could find the ship, hop in, and just fly off home --
with Max and Isabel, of course. 

Except lately... lately that fantasy wasn't so appealing. Partly because
now he knew for sure that he had no family back on their home planet, no
one who'd be waiting to welcome him home. But it wasn't that. It was
that now he had more to leave behind than he ever did before. Like Liz
and Alex. And Maria. 

Maria. What was he going to do about her? He'd been dancing around that
question for too long. Trying to figure out if it would be just too
weird to get something romantic started with her. 

Romantic. Right. Translation -- something physical. When he'd first
started hanging out with Maria, he'd fallen into thinking of her as kind
of a little sister. Even though she was the same age as Isabel, she
seemed younger somehow. But it was pretty much impossible to imagine
Isabel screaming through some cheesy horror movie, digging her nails
into his arm, covering her eyes, and begging him to tell her when the
scary part was over. Which is what Maria always did. 

And he enjoyed it. But in that big brother kind of way. He wondered what
would happen the next time they had one of their monster movie fests.
When she hurled herself at him, would it remind him of that kiss? 

That kiss. Michael sped up a little, flying into the darkness of the
empty highway. He didn't know what to think about the kiss. Except that
he would never, ever look at Maria as anything close to a little sister
again. 

*** 

"Put that you've totally fallen in love with him by reading his lists,"
Maria suggested. She leaned over 

Isabel's shoulder as she typed. "Then sign it something like
Victorianna, Mistress of the Darkness." 

Maria was glad that Isabel had invited her and Liz over. She could use
the distraction. Not that anything could make her stop thinking about
what happened last night with Michael. But at least three percent of her
brain could focus on what message to send Alex, while the other
ninety-seven fixated on remembering the expression on Michael's face and
the fury in his voice when he demanded to know what was wrong with her. 

"Won't Alex recognize your screen name?" Liz asked Isabel. 

"I'm using my mom's," Isabel answered. 

Maria gave a half laugh, half snort. "What if Alex writes back? What if
he tries to start some hot cybersex with your mother?" 

"That is so gross," Isabel complained. "But I'm not worried. Alex is way
too gaga over me to be thinking about anyone else." 

"Remember that you had 'Victorianna' mention her double-D cup. And her
collection of leopard-print lingerie," Liz teased. She twisted her long,
dark hair into a knot at the base of her neck. "Are you still feeling so
confident? Huh, Isabel? Huh, huh, huh?" 

"Guys do really like big... collections of wild animal bras and
panties," Maria added. 

Isabel hit the send button and zapped the message to Alex. "Alex is
completely caught in the velvet trap of my femininity," she said smugly.

Maria and Liz looked at each other and burst out laughing. "Your what?"
Liz demanded. 

"You heard me," Isabel answered. "So am I logging off or what?" 

It would be great to be Isabel, Maria thought. So drop-dead gorgeous you
could treat the world like a big guy mall. Picking up a blond here, a
redhead there. Only thinking about if you wanted them, not wondering if
they wanted you. 

"Go to Lucinda Baker's home page," Liz said. "I want to see if there are
any new entries." 

"How do I get there?" Isabel asked. 

"You've never gone?" Liz reached around to the keyboard and typed in the
address. "It's a riot. She ranks the kissing technique of every guy in
school." 

Even Michael's? Maria wondered. She didn't think she wanted to read a
description of Michael's kisses. What if she found out he kissed
everyone the way he kissed her last night? She couldn't stand the idea
that it wasn't something special that could only have happened between
the two of them. 

The thought of that kiss was all that was keeping her going. Yeah,
Michael had seemed totally disgusted with her. Totally furious. But that
kiss... God. That kiss gave her hope that there was a chance Michael
could feel something for her. Something like love. 

"Okay, here it is. You just click on a guy's name to get Lucinda's
review," Liz explained. 

Maria's eyes went straight to the Gs. Michael wasn't listed. At least
she was spared that. 

Isabel did a fast scroll down the list. "Rick Surmacz. Interesting." 

"Yeah, I thought Maggie McMahon had him caught in her velvet femininity
trap," Maria joked. "How else could she get him to coordinate his
outfits to hers every single day?" 

Isabel gave Rick's name a click. "I call Rick the driller," she read out
loud. "He somehow seems to think that a good kiss is one where he rams
his tongue as far down your throat as possible. No finesse. No grace.
Just gag me. Literally." 

"Yowch," Maria commented. "Do you think Maggie's seen this?" 

"No way," Liz answered. "If she did, the next outfit she'd pick out for
him is a nice black body bag." • 

"Do Craig Cachopo next," Maria said, struggling to get at least four
percent of her brain off Michael. "Liz and I both had a total crush on
him in the sixth grade. It almost ruined our friendship." 

Isabel scrolled back up the list. "He's not here," she told Maria. 

"But Max is!" Liz cried. She grabbed the mouse away from Isabel and
clicked. 

"Okay, I shouldn't really have Max on the list because I haven't ever
kissed him," Liz read, her voice losing a little of its edge. "But a
girl can dream, right? And I suspect that a kiss from Max would indeed
be dreamy. Those quiet types can really surprise you. Here's hoping I
have some hard facts for you soon." 

"Dream on," Isabel said. She gave Liz a sympathetic smile. "You've got
to know that even though Max keeps pushing you away, he has zero
interest in anyone else." 

Liz nodded. "Yeah, I know," she said softly. "But thanks for reminding
me." 

Maria felt a little stab of envy. Isabel and Liz both had these guys who
were completely in love with them. Yeah, Max did insist that he and Liz
couldn't be more than friends. But at least Liz knew that Max felt the
same way about her that she did about him. 

"Um, has Max seemed different to either of you lately?" Liz asked. 

"He's been kind of out of it, if that's what you mean," Isabel answered.

Maria frowned, trying to remember how Max had been acting lately. She'd
been so focused on Michael. "He's been a little quieter than usual," she
offered. "Preoccupied." 

"But he doesn't seem sick or anything?" Liz pressed. 

"Honestly, I think it's about you. I think he misses you," Isabel told
her. "That's not really the right word since you guys see each other all
the time, but -- " 

"But it's different," Liz finished her sentence. 

"If you really want to know how Craig kisses, I can tell you," Isabel
announced, doing a screeching subject change. She'd obviously decided
Max was not who Liz needed to be talking about. "A little wet. Some
distractingly loud nose breathing. But not bad." 

"No way!" Maria squealed. "I didn't know you ever went out with him." 

"I didn't. But I paid him a little visit in his dreams one night. When I
was, uh, campaigning for homecoming queen," she admitted. She signed off
and shut down her computer. 

"You went into guys' dreams and kissed them so they'd vote for you?" Liz
demanded. 

"Only the cute ones," Isabel answered. "And Michael and Alex totally got
even with me. You'll remember that I lost to Liz." She stuck out her
tongue at Liz. Liz laughed and hit her with a pillow. 

Maria didn't say anything, but she was glad that Isabel had lost. It
wasn't cool to win that way. Besides, Liz had deserved to win. She was
as pretty as Isabel, in a completely different way. And she was just as
popular. 

"So what's it like, going into people's dreams?" Maria asked. "Is it
really revealing? Do you know everybody's deep, dark secrets?" 

"I could show you," Isabel offered. "At least I think I could. The three
of us could form a connection, then we could go dream walking together."

"It's kind of an invasion of privacy, though," Liz said. 

"Yeah. You're right," Isabel answered. "But on the other hand, it's
cool." 

"We have to do it," Maria jumped in. 

She knew Liz was right about the invasion of privacy. But there was a
chance that she could get Isabel to take her into Michael's dreams.
Maybe they'd show her how he was really feeling about her. 

"So, who should we do?" Isabel asked. 

"Ms. Hardy?" Liz suggested. 

"A teacher?" Maria asked. "Doesn't that have kind of a high eww factor?
Maybe we should do someone we know better." 

Maria didn't want to just blurt out Michael's name. She wanted to wait
and do it more casually. She'd told Liz everything that happened when
she went to his house. But still. She didn't want to seem desperate. 

"I know. We'll go to the dream plane, and you two can each pick an orb.
That way it will be a surprise," Isabel said. She sat down on the floor
and motioned Liz and Maria to sit next to her. "Just relax. Breathe
deeply. And I'll do the rest," she instructed. She reached out and took
them each by the hand. 

A swirl of color became visible around them, the deep purple of Isabel's
aura, playing tag with the rich amber of Liz's, and Maria's sparkling
blue. An instant later a blend of perfumes filled the air. Maria thought
of them as olfactory auras. She pulled in a deep breath, savoring the
distinct scents of Liz's ylang-ylang, Isabel's cinnamon, and her rose,
as well as the aroma they made when they mingled. 

"Close your eyes," Isabel told them softly. 

Maria obeyed and found herself surrounded by spinning globes that
glistened with iridescent colors. Maria smiled as one brushed against
her face. It was as soft as a soap bubble, and it was giving off one
perfect note of music, high and sweet. 

"Welcome to the dream plane," Isabel told them. "Each orb is created
when a person begins to dream. Just pick one, and I'll take you in." 

Maria strained to pick out each orb's note, searching for the one that
would start up a vibration, almost an ache, inside her. 

There were so many beautiful sounds, but none that she was looking for.
It's because Michael isn't asleep yet, she realized. If he's not asleep,
he wouldn't have a dream orb. 

"You pick first," she told Liz. 

"That one." Liz pointed to a whirling pale green orb. 

Isabel shot Liz a look. "Freaky. I think you picked your mother's," she
said. "I've done this enough to have matched up a lot of people in town
with their orbs, and I'm pretty sure that's hers. Do you want to choose
a different one?" 

Liz hesitated, then shook her head. "That one's good." 

Isabel reached out her hands and began to hum. A moment later the green
orb spun into her hands. Isabel continued to hum, and the orb grew,
stretching until it was as tall as they were. 

"If you don't want her to see you in her dream, we can watch from out
here," Isabel said. "Or we can step through and actually be in the dream
with her." 

"Let's stay out here," Liz answered. She took a step closer to the orb
and peered inside. Maria moved up beside her. 

Mrs. Ortecho was walking along the edge of a lake. As she passed under a
tree, an egg tumbled out of a nest and landed at her feet. It cracked
open, and blood dripped out. 

Maria heard a tiny sound of distress from Liz. "We don't have to watch,"
Maria told her. 

"No, I want to," Liz answered. 

Maria returned her attention to the dream. Its scene shifted abruptly as
sometimes happens in dreams, and Mrs. Ortecho was standing in a kitchen.
She opened the fridge and pulled an egg out of the carton. She wrapped
her hands around it, as if she was trying to give it some of her warmth.

Then instantly she was back at the lake, climbing up toward the nest
with the egg still cradled in her hand. A branch broke under one of her
feet. Mrs. Ortecho faltered. The egg fell from her hand, fell straight
down into the lake. 

The water turned red and began to bubble. And a girl shot up from the
depths, drenched in blood. She flew straight at Mrs. Ortecho, her hands
curved into claws. 

Mrs. Ortecho screamed, and Liz jerked away from the orb. "That's
enough," she exclaimed. 

Isabel reached out and lightly touched the orb. She hummed until it
shrank down to its former size. 

"Are you okay?" Maria asked Liz. "Pretty horrible nightmare, huh?" 

"That girl. I think it was Rosa," Liz explained, her eyes glittering
with emotion. 

"Are you sure? I couldn't see her face with all the -- " Maria stopped
herself before she said the word blood. 

Liz shook her head. "It was her," she insisted. "It's been five years
since she died, five years, and my mother's still having nightmares." 

"Probably only once in a while," Isabel said. "And once in a while isn't
necessarily bad. Dreams help people process things." 

"I guess," Liz mumbled. 

Maria glanced over at Isabel. "Let's go out for a while." 

Isabel closed her eyes and focused. The dream plane disappeared, and
they were sitting on the floor of Isabel's bedroom once more. 

"Sorry you didn't get your turn," Liz told Maria. 

"It's okay. The orb I really wanted to visit wasn't there." She dropped
back her head and gave a loud sigh. "I have a confession to make to you,
my sister friends. I wanted to go into Michael's dream." 

"Shocking," Isabel exclaimed, with exaggerated mock surprise. 

Maria whirled around to look at Liz. "Did you tell Isabel?" she
demanded. 

"She didn't say anything. But I have eyes. And my eyes have seen your
eyes looking at Michael in that way," Isabel answered. She glanced at
the clock. "Michael and Max and I only need a couple of hours of sleep.
He won't be hitting dreamland for quite a few hours. You should stay
over, both of you, and I'll take you in when it's late enough. I have
pajamas and stuff you can borrow." 

"I guess we could get up early enough to go home and change before
school," Liz said. "But I have to call home and check," she added.
Isabel reached over to her night table and pulled down the phone. She
handed it to Liz, and Liz quickly punched in the number. 

Maria tried not to listen. It always made her uncomfortable to hear Liz
asking for permission to stay out later than planned or to go someplace
outside of town. Her dad asked her a billion questions, like he didn't
trust her. Which was so unfair. 

Liz was an unnaturally perfect girl. Never let her grades slip. Totally
responsible when she was working at the cafe. Did stuff around the
house. Didn't drink. Didn't smoke. Didn't do any of the things that
parents worried their kids were doing. 

Mr. Ortecho was basically a good guy. Maria liked working for him. But
she wished he'd start cutting Liz some slack. Just because Rosa had
overdosed didn't mean anything like that would happen to Liz. And he
should know his own daughter well enough to see that. 

Liz hung up and passed the phone to Maria. She made a quick call to her
mom, who said immediately that she could stay at the Evanses'. Big
surprise. Maria knew the boyfriend was over, and they were happy to have
a little more private time. 

"You want to watch a movie or something until it's late enough to go
back to the dream plane?" Isabel asked. 

"Sure," Liz answered. And Isabel started rattling off the choices. 

Maria thought it was cute how Isabel tried so hard to be a good hostess.
Izzy didn't have a lot of girlfriends, and it seemed as if it was really
important to her to get in some good girl bonding tonight. 

"Is that okay with you, Maria?" Isabel asked. 

Maria hadn't been listening. Whatever movie they picked was fine by her.
She thought of the movie as a countdown until it was time to go into
Michael's dream orb. 

By the time they'd reached the closing credits, Maria felt a whole flock
of butterflies flapping in her stomach. She took Isabel's hand and again
stepped into the place where the glistening, singing orbs whirled. 

He'll probably be dreaming about something completely doofy, she
thought. Like dancing hot dogs. Something that wouldn't have anything to
do with me. Well, unless you believed some of those dream interpretation
books. 

Maria heard the deep sound of Michael's dream orb. Her butterflies gave
birth to more butterflies as Isabel called it over and coaxed it to
expand. 

Without giving herself time to do any more agonizing, Maria stepped
through the soft, wet surface, Isabel and Liz right behind her. 

She felt a fist tighten around her heart and squeeze. Michael definitely
wasn't dreaming about dancing hot dogs. He was dreaming about having his
arms wrapped around Isabel! 

*** 7 *** 

"You want help with dinner, Mom?" Max asked as he wandered into the
kitchen. He knew he should be searching for the ship again, but he was
too exhausted to face another discouraging drive in the empty desert. 

"You can answer the doorbell when the Flying Pepperoni guy shows up. I
ordered pizza," Mrs. Evans answered. "Your dad and I have a massive case
we're getting ready for. No cooking time in the schedule. Lucky you." 

"Not lucky Dad, though. You know what he always says -- ," Max began. 

"He'd rather eat the box," they finished together. 

Strange how much information you stored up about your parents without
noticing. Useless stuff. Dad says cardboard tastes better than pizza,
eats by taking one bite of each thing on his plate in sequence so he
ends up with exactly one bite of everything at the end, uses three
heaping table-spoons of sugar in his coffee and prefers that no one
comment on it. And that was just a fragment of the information he'd
collected in the dad file under food. 

Max had hundreds of these mental files. Like the Mom's childhood file.
Mom used to have an imaginary best friend named Solly, a real best
friend named Annabelle, and a doll like the one Buffy had on Family
Affair, Mrs. Beasely, that was the doll's name. 

And it felt important that he knew these fun facts about his parents. Or
at least that somebody knew it. And that somebody would go on knowing it
after they were... gone. 

But that somebody wouldn't be him. The days were clicking by -- three of
them already -- and he could feel his body changing. And the chances of
finding the ship weren't looking too good for patient X. 

What was it doctors said? You should think about making arrangements.
Yeah, that was it. Max had the feeling that old patient X should be
making his arrangements. 

And that included talking to Michael and Isabel and the others. He would
have to do that. He really couldn't wait much longer. 

The only good prognosis for patient X was that he was feeling less
scared, less angry, just less of everything. Patient X had become a
bubble boy. The moment Ray had told Max about the akino, it felt like a
thin layer of plastic had formed around him. And every day the plastic
got thicker, creating a barrier between him and everyone and everything
else, even his feelings. 

Maybe the oxygen in the bubble had some kind of anesthesia mixed in with
it, too. Because Max or patient X or whoever didn't care that he was a
bubble boy. He didn't care that he and his mom were talking through a
wall of plastic. He was having trouble caring about anything. 

Strangely, though, he did sort of care about the parent information
files in his head. He would like somebody to remember that his mother
could recite that whole turnip speech from Gone With the Wind. That
seemed important. 

Max pushed himself to his feet and paced around the kitchen table, sat
down, and immediately stood back up, even though his body felt like it
weighed about three times as much as usual. 

"How about if I make a salad?" he asked. He didn't feel like salad, but
he felt like staying in the kitchen, and he might as well do something
useful. He jerked open the refrigerator door and checked the vegetable
crisper. There was one head of lettuce, slick with mold, and a couple of
sad-looking carrots. 

"I ordered us salads, too," his mother said. "So we have time for you to
sit down and tell me what's wrong." 

"Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to make a salad, that's all." He shut
the crisper drawer with his foot and closed the fridge door. 

"I'm less worried about the salad than the bags under your eyes. They're
big enough for a two-week vacation. I've never seen you like this," she
answered. She sat down at the table and patted the chair next to hers. 

Max reluctantly sat down. He knew there was no escaping his mother when
she thought they needed to talk. And it often helped. It's not that she
told him what to do. It's just that a lot of times when he'd gotten
through explaining whatever the deal was to her, he'd sort of figured
out a solution for himself. 

But there was no way that would happen this time. A long time ago he and
Isabel had promised each other that they would never tell their parents
the truth about their origins. 

Max was going to keep that promise. If he told his parents the truth,
they'd be in danger. Just like Liz, and like anyone else who got too
close to him. As long as Valenti's Project Clean Slate people were
hunting for aliens, everyone who knew Max, Michael, and Isabel was in
danger. And that was unacceptable. 

Patient X was going to die. Fine. Well, not fine, but probably
inevitable. Isabel was going to die. Michael was going to die. Also
probably inevitable. 

But his parents didn't have to die, not for a long, long time. And he
wanted to keep it that way. He wasn't going to shorten their life
expectancies by telling them his secret and putting them in danger. 

"So do I need to cross-examine you?" his mother asked. "Or can you bring
yourself to tell me what's going on?" 

He had to come up with something. His gaze drifted to the left, and he
noticed one thread of gray at her temple. He reached over, plucked the
hair, then held it up in front of her. 

"Ow! Be kind. It will happen to you someday, too," she warned. 

Actually, no, Mom, it won't, he answered silently. 

He slid the gray hair into his pocket. "I think I see another one," he
announced. He reached for it, but his mom slapped his hand away. 

"Stop stalling," she ordered. 

"Okay, here's the deal," Max said. He needed a good lie, but nothing was
coming to him. "Um, there's this girl at school who's totally smart and
beautiful and everything. But the problem is, she keeps telling me she
only wants to be friends." 

Actually, he had been the one who kept telling Liz they couldn't be more
than friends. It had turned out to be a good thing, too. When he died,
at least she'd only have a dead friend, not a dead boyfriend. 

"This makes me feel way older than the gray hair," his mother
complained. "My son talking to me about relationship problems." 

The doorbell rang. Max shoved himself up from the table. "I'll get it." 

"Ask your dad for some money," his mom said. Then she winked at him.
"You can ask him something else, too. Ask him how many times I told him
I thought it would be better for us to be just friends before I finally
went out with him." 

Max forced himself to smile so she would think she'd made him feel
better, then he headed to the front door. "Dad, I need money for the
pizza guy," he yelled. 

"I'm coming, I'm coming," his father called from the living room. "But
couldn't we have ordered something besides pizza? I'd rather eat the
box." 

This might be the very last time I hear him say that, Max realized. 

*** 

Michael wandered into the living room, holding a piece of cold pizza and
a glass of milk. 

Isabel's heart gave a hard thump, and she sloshed some of her soda onto
the front of her shirt. She grabbed a napkin and blotted the spot. 

"Did I scare you?" Michael asked. He flopped down on the couch next to
her. 

"I didn't hear you come in," she answered. He never rang the doorbell.
Isabel's parents called him their third child, and he treated their home
like his own. 

It's true that she hadn't heard him arrive. But that's not why her heart
had practically slammed a hole through her ribs. When she saw Michael,
the image from his dream orb instantly flashed through her mind. And her
heart had responded. 

Michael stuck his feet on the coffee table, folded his pizza in half,
and took a big bite. He was definitely not acting like a guy who had
been dreaming about having his arms around her. In another second he'd
be burping or scratching his butt. 

That was a relief. It would be too weird for big brother Michael to have
any kind of romantic feelings about her. Her brain knew that even if her
body seemed to have temporarily forgotten. 

Isabel raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure you have everything you need?"
she asked him with mock sweetness. "You want me to run upstairs and get
you a few pillows or anything?" 

"How nice of you to ask," Michael replied, his voice as syrupy as hers
had been. "But I think I'm all set. Unless you want to take off my shoes
and give me a foot rub." 

"Yeah, I've really been longing to get my hands on your big, stinky
feet," she answered. There was a time when she would have done it --
eagerly. Back when she was, like, twelve. She'd had this major, major
crush on Michael. She had an entire notebook filled with info like his
favorite band and his favorite food. That notebook got fed to the
garbage disposal page by page when Isabel hit thirteen and found the
entries intensely humiliating. 

"So, where is everyone?" Michael asked. 

"My parents went back to their office. They have some humongous case.
And Max is in his room. At least I think it's Max," she said. "It might
be his evil twin. The one we fondly call The Mute." 

"Yeah, what's with him the last few days?" Michael shoved his hands
through his spiky hair. "Is it just the Liz thing or what?" 

"I don't think anything new happened between them," she answered. "But
maybe all that sexual frustration has gotten to be too much for him." 

"Can't say that I know any." Michael smirked at her. "I'm way too
good-looking to have to pay for it." 

"Oh, right. I'm always forgetting that. Guess it's because I don't see
it myself," she shot back. 

Actually, Isabel had to admit Michael was pretty high on the yummy
scale. He wasn't so much like a brother that she didn't like to look.
And there was a lot to look at -- black hair, intense gray eyes, those
perfect six-pack abs, wide shoulders -- 

She stopped, suddenly feeling disloyal to Alex. Her boy definitely had
it going on, too. It's just that he was lean where Michael was pumped.
And sometimes pumped was fun to look at. 

"Oh, speaking of your fabulous babe appeal, Corrine Williams wants me to
invite you to this party she's having on Friday," Isabel told him. 

"Are you and Alex going?" he asked as he stuffed the pizza crust into
his mouth and wiped his hands on the legs of his jeans. 

"Uh, I'm not sure," Isabel said. She wasn't looking forward to another
Alex-Isabel bashing session by the Stacey crew. It wasn't fun in the
locker room, and it certainly wouldn't make for a fun party. 

Michael glanced at the TV. "Is this the show where she's trying to have
a baby?" 

He stretched his arm out along the back of the couch. It brushed against
Isabel's shoulders, and she felt a tingle go through her. Which should
not be happening. It hadn't happened before -- at least not since she
was twelve, when she was like a walking joy buzzer whenever Michael was
anywhere near her. 

"That's her old show," Isabel answered, sitting up a little straighter
to lose the connection between her body and Michael's. "In this one
she's the single mom of these two twins who are always trying to get her
married." 

"Oh yeah. They have witch powers or something," Michael said. "I can't
believe you're watching this." 

"No, that's their other old show. And I'm not really watching it. I'm
watching what comes on next," she answered. 

"So that guy, he's the principal of their school, right?" 

Isabel shook her head. "That's his old show. He's their soccer coach." 

"Okay, I can see that I need to be in charge of the remote," Michael
announced. 

He reached for it, but Isabel got there first. She held the remote
behind her back. 

"News flash. I'm not Alex. So I don't do that whole Princess Isabel
thing," he said. 

He started to reach behind her. Isabel leaned back so she was half lying
on the couch and wedged the remote between her body and the cushions. 

Michael studied her for a moment, his gray eyes narrowed. Another one of
those tingles raced through Isabel's body, chased by a wave of guilt.
She could only imagine how Maria would react if she saw this little
flirt session. 

"We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way," Michael
informed her. 

"We're not doing this at all. This is my house. That means I control the
remote," Isabel insisted. 

"Okay. Be that way." Michael straddled her legs and started to tickle.
And of course, he knew exactly the spot to go for. He'd known it for
years. 

Isabel squealed as he dug his fingers into her sides, right below her
ribs. She couldn't take it. She grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved
him away from her. At least she tried. It moved him about half an inch. 

But she had other ways of winning this fight. She dug her fingernails
into his back. 

"Unfair. I don't have claws," Michael protested, without stopping the
tickling. 

"But you weigh, like, twice as much as I do," Isabel cried. "And you're
practically lying on top of me." 

She and Michael locked eyes, and they both froze. Isabel could feel his
chest heaving. Was he just out of breath from all the tickling? 

Because Isabel was sure that's why her heart had starting slamming
against her ribs again. It was just because she'd been squirming around
so much, trying to keep the remote away. 

It had nothing to do with her sudden and intense awareness of Michael's
body pressing against hers. Nothing. 

Isabel pulled the remote out from behind her back and thrust it at
Michael. "Here, watch what you want. I'm going to... go get some
homework done." 

*** 8 *** 

Liz glanced at her watch. If she walked fast, she'd have time to stop at
the UFO museum before her shift at the Crashdown. Good. Max would be
there, and she needed to see him. Just see him and reassure herself that
he was okay. 

She had a bad feeling deep in her gut that he wasn't. Every day at
school, he looked like more of a wreck. And there was that weird thing
that happened with the Bunsen burner. Max had tried to convince her that
the bubbling skin was just an optical illusion. But the smell of burning
flesh had been too distinct. 

"Liz, want a ride?" she heard a voice call from behind her. She knew
without looking that it was Max. 

"Great," she answered as she turned around and climbed into the Jeep. 

She studied his face as he pulled back out onto the street. He looks
like a cancer patient, she decided. 

"You're staring," Max told her. 

Liz decided to go for the direct approach. "I'm worried about you," she
admitted. "You keep telling me nothing's wrong. But I don't buy it
anymore." 

"I'm just sort of tired," he told her. "I haven't been..." 

His words trailed off. His eyes rolled up in his head until only the
whites were showing. 

"Max!" Liz screamed. 

A long, loud horn blast yanked her attention away from him. She jerked
her head up and saw a Lime Warp delivery truck about two feet away from
them. They'd driven straight through a red light. 

Liz reached over and jerked the wheel to the left, the Jeep's tires
squealing in protest. She kicked Max's foot off the gas and pressed down
on the brake, resisting the urge to slam it straight to the floor. 

"Okay, okay. Now park it," she muttered to herself. She maneuvered the
Jeep over to the curb and turned off the ignition, then she spun to face
Max. 

"Can you hear me?" she cried. She checked his eyes. Still staring white
balls. 

Liz swallowed hard. She had to keep it together. She had to help Max.
But what should she do? She could run up to somebody's house and ask to
use the phone to call an ambulance. But she didn't want to leave Max
alone. Not for a minute. 

"Max, come on," she shouted, her voice cracking. "Say something. Can you
hear me? It's me. Liz." • His eyelids began to flutter. "Yes! That's
it," Liz exclaimed. She pulled one of his hands off the wheel and rubbed
it between her own. It was limp and lifeless. 

She spotted a sliver of blue under his lashes, then his eyes rolled back
into place. His hand gave a twitch. He was coming out of it. Oh, thank
God. 

Max shook his head. "I guess I dozed off at the wheel. I've been really
wiped out lately. Maybe you should drive. You can drop me at the museum,
and I can get the Jeep from you later." 

Liz stared at him. He was in shock. Had to be. 

"Max, you had some kind of seizure," Liz said gently. "I'm taking you to
the emergency room." 

"To the alien section?" Max asked curtly. He slid his hand away from
hers and rested it on the wheel. "Liz, you know I can't go to the
emergency room. Please, just drive me home. I'll call in sick to work
and take it easy, try to rest up. That's all I need. Just some rest." 

"That won't make me feel much better," Liz shot back. The adrenaline was
still blasting through her body. All her nerve endings felt as if they'd
been electrified. And Max expected her just to drop him off at his house
and cheerfully wave good-bye. 

She reminded herself that he hadn't seen what she'd seen. He hadn't seen
his eyes roll up and -- 

"Max, you've got to trust me. This isn't something you can pretend
didn't happen. You've got to get yourself checked out," she told him. 

"Look, I already talked to Ray about it," Max muttered. "It's not a
human thing, okay? It's not a doctor thing." 

Liz's stomach tightened into a twisted ball. "Then what is it? Tell me,
Max." 

Max ran his fingers over the grooves in the wheel. "I need to get to
work. Or at least I have to call." 

Liz took his face in her hands and forced him to turn to her, but he
still wouldn't meet her gaze. "We aren't going anywhere until you tell
me." 

"I'm dying." 

Liz tightened her fingers against his face. "What?" 

Finally he raised his eyes and looked directly at her. 

"I'm dying." 

*** 

Michael pulled the Pascals' old station wagon up behind Alex's Rabbit.
He couldn't believe he'd been summoned to a meeting. The six of them saw
each other every day at school. What could they possibly have to talk
about that they couldn't have talked about yesterday at lunch? 

He climbed out of the car and slammed the door. Whatever it was, it
better be good. He was missing the game on TV He and Dylan had a bet
going, and if things went the way he thought they would, Dylan would be
cleaning the toilet and polishing the bathtub in the bathroom they
shared for a very long time. 

Michael hurried up the Evanses' front walk and let himself in. "I hope
you didn't get me over here because you've decided we need uniforms in
the colors of our auras or something," he complained as he stepped into
the living room. "Because if you did -- " 

His throat closed up around his words as he saw Max's grim face.
Something was very wrong. 

Michael dropped into the closest chair. "What?" he asked softly. 

Max didn't answer. Michael jerked his gaze to Liz. Her eyes were red,
and faint tear tracks ran down her cheeks. "Somebody start talking. Now.
Is it Valenti? Did he find out something?" 

"They haven't told us anything yet," Maria said. "They were waiting for
you." She looked as scared as he felt. So did Alex and Isabel. 

"Well, I'm here now." He leaned forward, his eyes locked on Max again. 

"I... we..." Max cleared his throat. He shoved his hair away from his
face, and Michael could see his fingers trembling. "There's something
called an akino. It's..." His words trailed off. 

"The akino is something everyone from your planet goes through. It's
their time to connect to something called the collective consciousness."
Liz spoke up, glancing from Isabel to Michael and back again. "Ray said
that it contains all your civilization's knowledge, all the emotion,
too. It basically lets you feel the emotions of everyone on your planet
all at once. Maybe even the ones who have died. I'm not sure." 

Liz lowered her gaze to the coffee table, and Michael thought he could
see new tears welling up in her eyes. He felt like springing up and
shaking her until she finished her thought. He gripped the arms of the
chair as hard as he could to keep himself in place. 

"Come on, Liz," Isabel begged. 

Liz pulled in a deep, shuddering breath. Then the words began tumbling
out of her mouth so quickly, it was difficult to make them out. "Max is
going through the akino, and that means he has to connect to the
collective consciousness or he'll die. But he can't connect to the
consciousness from earth without the communication crystals from your
parents' ship." 

This had to be a joke. Like a week ago, Michael found out from Ray that
his parents were dead. He also found out that he had no family at all
back on his home planet. And now... now his best friend was dying? This
had to be a sick joke. 

Michael heard Isabel begin to whimper low in her throat. The sound
ripped through him. A cry like that should never be coming out of
Isabel. She sounded like an animal who had been caught in a trap for
days, hopeless, in pain, dying. 

Dying. And it would happen to all of them. Soon Isabel would be dying,
too. And by then he and Max would probably have already died. Leaving
his Izzy to go through it all alone. 

"How long?" Michael demanded, breaking the heavy silence. 

"Ray said -- ," Liz began. 

"Months, weeks, or days," Max interrupted, sounding as if he was forcing
the words through a barrier at the back of his throat. "I don't know how
long until you or... I don't know when it will start. I guess it happens
at different times for different people. It could be years." He locked
eyes with Michael briefly, then his gaze skittered away. 

It could be tomorrow, Michael thought, filling in what Max had left
unsaid. 

"So we need a plan to find the ship," Alex said. Maria joined in,
babbling about notes and maps and stuff. •., - 

What was wrong with them? Michael thought. He'd been searching for that
ship his entire life. The chances of finding it in the next couple of
days were slim. Unless... Michael remembered that Ray said he had hid
the Stone of Midnight in the cave. Hmm... 

He straightened up and saw Liz staring at him with a tiny half smile on
her face. 

"I have an idea," she said slowly. 

Alex and Maria kept jabbering. "Let Liz talk," Michael ordered. 

"I have an idea," she repeated. "I was just sitting here, looking at
Michael, and suddenly I remembered how we saved him from the bounty
hunters." 

"We all made the connection!" Maria exclaimed. "And it was strong enough
to bring him back. Why didn't I think of that! When the six of us
connect, it's... I don't even have a word for it." 

Liz turned to Max. "Maybe the strength of our connection would give you
enough of a boost to complete the akino without the crystals. What do
you think?" 

Michael knew what he thought. He thought it was a monumentally better
idea than trying to find the ship in time. And if it didn't work, he
would go to the cave and solve this thing himself. 

The strength of the connection had saved his life. Why shouldn't it be
able to save Max's, too? 

*** 9 *** 

Max reached out and took Liz's hand in his left and Isabel's in his
right, completing the circle. The connection crackled between the six of
them instantly. 

This time their auras were like spears of laser light, slashing across
the Evanses' living room with an electric sizzle. Shooting out sparks
where the six blades of light crossed in the center. There, in the heart
of the circle, the six individual colors blazed in a ball of bright
white light. His emerald green, Michael's brick red, Maria's sparkling
blue, Liz's warm amber, Isabel's rich purple, and Alex's bright orange
combined into that one blinding light. 

The hair on Max's arms stood up as the strength of his friends blasted
into him, turning his veins to live wires. It felt as if they were each
directing their essence toward him. He laughed as Alex zapped him an
image of Popeye's muscles bulging after a can of spinach, then gasped as
Liz showed him a flock of exotic parrots all taking flight at once. The
images came faster and faster. Isabel showing herself hitting him with a
shovel during a fight when they were kids. A shark, dead eyes and razor
teeth torpedoing through the water from Michael. A flower going from
blossom to full bloom in seconds from Maria. 

An instant later the music rang out. One note for each of them. Each
note a different frequency, each setting up its own vibration along his
glowing veins. 

He felt invincible. Every sense was filled with their connection. The
colors of their auras, the sound and feel of their music, the emotion of
their images, and the scents, the scents were exploding in his nose --
the rose, the cedar, the eucalyptus, the ylang-ylang, the cinnamon, and
the almonds. He pulled in a deep breath, drawing the perfumes deep into
his lungs, into each tiny air sac. 

Now, he told himself. Now! 

He reached out with his mind, searching for a glimmer, a whisper,
something to give him a direction. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to
send a little part of him, of them, out into the universe. Past the
edges of the galaxy. Deep into the silence of space. 

He felt his body go weightless. Light, so light. As if it had been
converted into pure electricity, streaking past planets that had no
name. He could almost see them rushing by. 

Somewhere out there was the combined psyche of every person who had
lived on his planet. Somewhere out there was a living record of every
thought, every emotion, every dream. He had to be able to feel that. 

I'm here. I want to join you. I want to connect. Max tried to hurl the
message out in front of him, throw it across the void. 

Suddenly Max thought he heard an answer. As light as a single strand of
hair slipping across his face, he thought he felt another mind, or
minds, brush against his. He didn't get an image, or a sound, or a
scent. But still, he'd felt the touch of something not him. Something
from outside the group. 

Yes! He shouted the word inside his head. Yes! I want to join you. I
need to connect. I have reached my akino. 

At the word akino the sound of a million voices filled Max's head. A
million voices all speaking at once, all demanding his attention,
shrieking louder and louder as they fought to be heard. 

Jangled notes of music, with no rhythm, no order, rose over the voices,
sending shock waves through his eardrums. 

Images of faces, animals, plants rushed through his mind. Deaths,
births. Wars, famines, celebrations. Formulas, schematics, equations. 

Max could feel the blood begin to rush through the arteries and veins of
his brain as he struggled to take it all in. He could feel the vessels
swelling, gorged with the blood. Bursting. 

He could actually feel the synapses firing their electric currents.
Firing again and again, trying to keep up with the demands of all the
information. Electrifying his brain. 

Max stretched open his mouth and screamed. He thought he heard the
others screaming, too -- Liz, Michael, Isabel, Alex, and Maria.
Screaming for it to stop. 

Then all was blackness. 

The next thing he heard was a voice. One single voice. 

"We have to stop meeting like this." 

Max opened his eyes and saw Ray Iburg staring down at him with both his
hands pressed against Max's forehead. "All better?" he asked. 

Max did a quick self-inventory. He actually felt pretty good. Or as good
as he'd been feeling since the akino began. "Yeah. Thanks. How did you
know to come?" 

"The shout of pain I heard wasn't exactly subtle," Ray answered. He
moved over next to Liz and placed his hands on her forehead. 

Max swept the circle. Everyone had been knocked out cold. "Let me help,"
he told Ray, starting to slide over to Isabel. 

"Park it," Ray ordered. "I don't want to have to heal you twice. What
were you all trying to do, anyway?" 

"We were trying to help Max connect to the collective unconscious," Liz
mumbled. She sat up, and Max could see that the color was already
returning to her face. Ray did good work. 

"I'm lucky I didn't find a big vegetable patch when I showed up," Ray
told them as he placed his hands on Michael. "Another few seconds and
you would have been about one IQ point above rutabagas. And I don't know
if I'd have been able to get you back." 

"Guess that would make for an interesting valedictorian speech from you,
huh, Liz?" Michael asked. "A rutabaga's thoughts on what to expect after
grad." 

"Yeah. Many exciting avenues are available, fellow graduates. Salads,
soups," Liz muttered. "Rabbit food." 

Alex sat up and blinked a couple of times. "So I guess we should start
making plans to search for the ship." 

Max gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Maybe we should wait until Isabel
and Maria have regained consciousness," he said. 

"I guess," Alex answered. "But it's not like you... It's not like we
have a lot of time." 

*** 

Michael pressed a cold Lime Warp can against his head and pretended to
listen to the plans for that night's search parties. He didn't have to
do more than pretend to listen because he'd already decided that search
parties were useless. They had to use the Stone of Midnight. 

Correction. He had to use the Stone. He'd use it to watch Valenti and
find the ship. And if using the Stone brought the bounty hunters down on
him again, well, today was a good day to die. A friggin' perfect day. As
long as he could get the ship's location first. As long as he could save
Max and Isabel. 

Of the three of them, he was the best choice to make the sacrifice. Max
and Izzy had a family. Their parents would be destroyed if anything
happened to either of them. 

It wasn't like that for Michael. It's not as if the Pascals cared that
much about him. Yeah, the group... they would miss him. But they'd still
have each other. Izzy would still have Max. She wouldn't be left alone. 

"What do you think, Michael?" Alex asked. 

"Three teams of two. Plus Ray on his own. Fine," he answered. He was
pretty sure that's what they had just suggested. He just wanted this
meeting of theirs to end so he could get out to the cave. He'd stashed
the Stone out there. That pen he lifted off Valenti's desk, too. 

"So we start tonight?" Maria asked. 

"Yeah. Let's meet at the school parking lot at seven," Isabel said. 

No one objected to that plan, so Michael sprang to his feet. "I'll see
you all there," he said as he hurried out of the room. By the time he
made it through the front door, he was running. He climbed into the
wagon and headed out of town, careful to keep his speed down. Valenti
loved to stop teenagers, and Michael didn't have the time. 

Michael focused all his attention on getting to the cave. Anytime a
thought about Max weaseled its way into his brain, he shoved it right
back out. He didn't need to think about Max, worry about Max, cry over
Max. None of that. Because he was taking care of the situation. Right
now. 

Michael turned off the highway and muscled the station wagon across the
desert. He pulled to a stop about half a mile from the cave. He didn't
want anyone -- like someone from Project Clean Slate -- wondering what
the wagon was doing out there and then poking around. 

Michael jumped out of the car and sprinted to the cave. Taking care of
it, taking care of it, taking care of it. The words pounded through his
head in the rhythm of his footfalls. 

When he reached the crack in the desert floor that opened into the cave,
he swung himself down in one easy motion. Without hesitation he headed
straight to the corner where he kept his sleeping bag. The ring with the
Stone set in it was in the bottom. So was the pen. 

Michael crouched down and pulled them out. He jammed the ring on his
finger and clutched the pen in his hand. "Okay, where's Valen -- " 

"Don't do it, Michael!" 

He heard a scrabbling sound and Maria half jumped, half fell into the
cave. She stumbled to her feet and raced toward him. She knocked the pen
out of his hand and sent it flying. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded. 

"I followed you," she shot back, her blue eyes blazing. "Not that I
needed to. The second you stood up from your chair, I knew where you
were going." She pulled in a gasping breath and rushed on. "What is
wrong with you? That's what you asked me when you found out I kept using
the Stone when I knew it was dangerous. Now you're doing the same thing.
So now I'm asking you. What is wrong with you?" 

"It's not the same." Michael strode across the cave and snatched up the
pen. "I'm using the Stone to find the ship so I can save Max's life.
Save his life. That's what's wrong with me, Maria." 

"No, I'll tell you what's wrong. The bounty hunters are going to come
after you again... and this time they're going to kill you!" Maria
yelled. 

"So what?" Michael asked. "That means two alive, one dead. Not three
dead, the way it will be if I don't use it." 

"Oh, fine. I should have thought of that. Two out of three. That's
great," Maria answered, tears choking her voice. "Now I have no problem
with you killing yourself." 

Great. She was crying. Really crying, the sobs shaking her whole body.
He took a step toward her. 

"No!" she exclaimed. "Don't come over here. And don't try to touch me! I
don't want you to touch me when you're just going to kill yourself the
second I go away. Don't..." 

Maria covered her face and broke down. Michael shifted his weight from
one foot to the other. Her hysterical sobs grew louder. 

He couldn't take it anymore, just standing and watching. He hesitated
another moment, then crossed the distance between them in three long
strides. He reached for her, but she lowered her hands quickly, and the
expression on her face stopped him. 

"I meant it -- don't touch me," she said. She wiped her eyes with her
sleeve, then pulled a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose. 

"Are you okay?" he asked. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. It's just...
there's not much time." 

"You think you're being some kind of hero, don't you?" Maria asked, only
the slightest tremble remaining in her voice. "But you're not. You're
being selfish. You get to feel so good about yourself for being the big
man, making the sacrifice. You're not even thinking about how Isabel or
Max would feel." 

"I don't care how they'd feel. At least they'd be alive to feel
something," Michael said harshly. 

"Try to think how you'd feel if Max gave up his life for you," Maria
answered. "Or Isabel. Think about how it would really feel if Isabel
sacrificed her life to save yours." 

Michael couldn't answer that. He couldn't get close to imagining how
he'd feel. His mind kept leaping away from the thought. 

"They love you," Maria said softly. "Everything you feel for them, they
feel for you. I know you think they have each other and their parents,
so they can't possibly care about you the way you care about them since
you have no one. But it's not true." 

Michael felt tears sting his eyes, and he blinked them away fast. 

"Alex and Liz, they love you, too. Something else for you to deal with,"
she added. "Anything you do to hurt yourself hurts us. If you let the
bounty hunters kill you, it would kill us. It would kill me." She looked
up at him. "Because I love you, too. I love you, Michael." 

She wasn't saying she loved him as a friend. She was saying she loved
him loved him. Whoa. He didn't even know what to do with that. 

Maria reached out and slid the ring off his finger. He let her. 

"So, is it okay if I touch you now?" he asked. 

"Just don't mess up my hair," she answered. 

He choked out a laugh and wrapped his arms around her. 

"We'll find the ship," Maria promised him. "All of us. Together. We can
do anything." 

Michael didn't answer. He just pulled her even closer and held on tight.

*** 

"Can't you go any faster?" Isabel demanded. She was sure Michael had
decided to use the Stone. She never should have let him walk out of the
house. It's just that the movie screen inside her head showed Max lying
in a coffin, his face pale except for garish smears of makeup. And the
coffin being lowered into the ground by a creaking metal cable. 

Isabel squeezed her eyes shut as the images flooded her again. It didn't
help. Eyes open or closed, the movie filled her vision. The movie's
odorama was working fine, too. She could smell the dirt and the thick,
cheap blush. 

"If we get pulled over, it will take us a lot longer to get there," Alex
answered. But he goosed the accelerator a little. 

"Okay, you're right." Isabel turned and stared out into the desert. But
the movie of Max's funeral kept running. And then the theater in her
mind became a multiplex. One screen still showed Max being lowered into
the ground. One showed Michael using the Stone and then collapsing. One
showed a classic -- her old boyfriend Nikolas being shot by Sheriff
Valenti. 

And one showed Isabel standing alone in a flat, endless, snow-covered
field. All alone in the frigid, silent whiteness. All alone until it was
finally her turn to die. 

She shot a glance at Alex. She knew if she told him what was in her mind
right now, he'd say that no matter what happened, she wouldn't be alone.
He would be right there with her, to comfort her, to warm her. 

But it wasn't the same. Max and Michael, and even Nikolas, shared a bond
with her that was stronger than anything she could possibly share with
Alex. The bond of identity, and powers, and species memories. The bond
of living in a world where you were hunted. 

To have all those bonds severed would be like standing in that field.
The movie Isabel opened her mouth wide and screamed. Only an echo
answered her. 

If it seemed as if Max was going to die, Isabel would go after Valenti.
She didn't need the Stone to find out what she needed to know. She would
use her mind to squeeze his pathetic excuse for a heart until he
squealed like a pig and told her everything she wanted to know. 

If he ended up dying, fine. It was a lot better than Max dying. Or
Michael. Or her. 

"Almost there," Alex told her as he pulled off the road. The Rabbit
bumped and jerked as they sped across the hard-packed sand of the
desert. "Looks like Maria beat us to it." 

He was right. That was definitely Maria's mom's car, which she'd driven
over to the Evanses'. It was parked right next to the Pascals' wagon.
Isabel felt a pang of jealousy that Maria had found Michael first, then
a pang of guilt for her jealousy. 

"How did she know to come here?" Isabel asked. 

"Same way you did, I guess," Alex answered. 

Alex parked next to the other two cars. He and Isabel climbed out and
started toward the cave. Alex slid his arm around her shoulders as they
walked. Isabel wished he hadn't. It felt too heavy. Not
warm-and-reassuring heavy. More a slowing-her-down heavy. 

She knew that Maria had probably stopped Michael from using the Stone.
But she wanted to see for herself. "Let's run." She broke away from Alex
and pounded toward the cave. She scrambled down, feeling for the big
rock with her toes. 

A quick scan of the cave showed her that Michael was fine. It also
showed her that he had his arms wrapped tight around Maria, his face
buried in her hair. 

Right now, that's where Isabel wanted to be. In Michael's arms. 

Alex rushed up behind her. He slid his arm around her waist and pulled
her tight against him. "See? It's okay. We made it in time." 

Isabel nodded. But she couldn't help wishing they'd arrived a few
moments earlier. At least a few seconds before Maria and Michael ended
up wrapped around each other. 

*** 10 *** 

"Max, you and Liz take this section here." Michael pointed to a quadrant
of desert on his worn map. 

"Got it," Max answered. He kind of wished Michael hadn't paired him up
with Liz, though. Liz was the one person who'd been able to penetrate
his plastic bubble. This afternoon, when she'd held his face in her
hands and insisted that he tell her about the akino, a big piece of his
protective coating had been torn away. When he was with her, he was a
hundred percent Max, not the anonymous patient X. 

It had felt good to tell her the truth. But it'd hurt, too. Almost more
than he could bear. 

"My name is Liz, and I'll be your chauffeur tonight," she told him. She
tried to say it in a joking way, but he could tell the memory of his
seizure, or whatever it was, was still raw in her mind. 

Max tossed her the keys as they headed to the Jeep. "It's always been a
fantasy of mine to have, well, not a female chauffeur -- more like a
female butler," he answered. He wasn't all that much better than Liz at
hitting a jokey tone. 

"You know, someone who does everything Alfred does for Batman but who
does it while being a young, hot female instead?" Alex called after
them, a hint of strain in his voice, too. 

"Exactly," Max replied. He hoisted himself into the Jeep, trying to make
the movement look easy, although it really took some effort now. One of
the hundreds of little things that were becoming harder every day. 

"You going to put your seat belt on?" Liz asked after she snapped hers
in place. 

"What's the point?" he asked, without thinking. Then he heard Liz's
sharp intake of breath, and he quickly strapped himself in. This
keeping-up-normal-appearances thing was trickier than he realized. 

Liz turned the Jeep around and headed out the south driveway. About
twelve minutes later they were alone on the highway, heading into the
desert. 

"I forgot how hard it would be to find that chicken rock Maria described
now that it's dark," Liz commented. 

"Michael, Isabel, and I can see better at night than during the day,"
Max reminded her. "It's good we divided the teams the way we did." 

Except he probably would have preferred being matched up with Alex or
Maria. Just sitting next to Liz, now that she knew the truth, poked more
holes in his bubble. The feelings, the sorrow, the fear, the anger were
finding ways in. And the anesthesia wasn't working quite so well. 

*** 

Maria peered into the desert, searching for anything that looked
familiar from seeing Valenti that night. It was so hard to tell. A lot
of the desert looked like... the desert. 

She wished she'd been paired up with Max instead of Michael. Being in
the car with him was giving her the sweats, and she was trying to
remember if she'd put on herbal deodorant before she rushed over to the
Evanses' this morning. So much had happened since this morning. 

Including Maria finally telling Michael she loved him. She took a quick
peek at him from under her lashes. He was totally focused on scanning
the desert as he drove. She had a feeling she could be sitting there
naked and he wouldn't notice. 

What was he thinking? Was he totally freaked out by what she said? Yeah,
he'd hugged her. But he definitely hadn't said, "I love you, too." Maybe
he would have if Isabel and Alex hadn't shown up. Then again, maybe he
was too preoccupied with saving his best friend's life, Maria told
herself. 

A long, pissed-off-sounding horn blast jerked her out of her thoughts.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw a beat-up Caddy riding on their
tail. 

"It doesn't occur to him just to pass us?" Michael complained. "It's not
like there's not room. Nothing but room out here." 

The guy in the Caddy gave another long honk. Maria turned around and
waved for him to pass them. The guy didn't look at all appreciative. He
looked royally -- 

Familiar. Familiar from when she saw Valenti. She tried to picture him
with a machine gun strapped across his chest. "Michael, I think that's
the guard from the compound where the ship is kept," she told him, her
voice shaking with excitement. "Can you get me a better look?" 

Michael angled the station wagon over to the shoulder. As soon as the
Caddy passed them he pulled up alongside it so that Maria was even with
the driver's side window. "If this is him, we won't need to worry about
any chicken rock. He can lead us right there," Michael said. 

The guy in the caddy rolled down his window. "Oh, now you want to go
fast," he yelled. "Great." 

Maria felt as if she'd stepped on an elevator shooting straight down.
She was wrong. "No, the guard was a lot younger," she told Michael.
"Sorry." 

Michael dropped back, and the Caddy roared off. "Guess that would have
been a little too easy," he muttered. 

Maria felt like reaching over and touching his shoulder or his arm, just
some little touch so that he knew he wasn't alone in all this. But she
kept her hands locked in her lap and changed her focus to the task at
hand. 

Maria pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window and
tried to concentrate every bit of her attention on finding the rock,
checking the shape of every one she saw. Not-chicken. Not-chicken.
Not-chicken. 

About a hundred not-chickens later, Michael pulled into the desert and
stopped the car. "Did you see something?" she cried. 

"No, I felt something. A burst of fear," he answered. 

"From Max or Isabel?" Maria demanded. She knew that the aliens could
feel each other's emotions. 

Michael shook his head. 

"Then who? Oh, Ray. How strong was it? Do you think he's okay? Should we
go find him?" Maria asked in a rush. 

"Wait. Let me focus a minute," he answered. 

Maria held perfectly still, the sound of her own breathing loud in her
ears. 

"I don't know who it is." Michael sounded amazed... and disturbed. 

"How can you be sure what you felt isn't from Ray or Max or Isabel?"
Maria asked. "It's just raw feeling, not thoughts or anything, right?
All three of them have to be having pretty extreme emotions right now.
Maybe that's why it feels different." 

"It's, I don't know how to describe it. It's like different people have
different flavors," Michael answered. "I don't recognize this one. It's
not from anyone familiar." 

"Flavors?" Maria repeated. 

"I can't explain it better than that," he told her. "It's not something
you can really understand if you haven't experienced it." 

Maria nodded. I bet Isabel would understand, she thought. Is he wishing
she was. here with him right now? 

*** 

"Wait." Alex pulled the Rabbit to a screeching halt. "Does that look
like a chicken to you?" He pointed to a rock off to the left. 

"That?" Isabel squinted. "A frog, maybe. Aren't frog legs supposed to
taste like chicken?" 

"You're looking at it from the wrong angle." He pulled her closer to
him, breathing in her spicy perfume. "See, it's like a chicken pecking
the ground. That's its beak." 

"You're right." A huge smile broke across Isabel's face. "You're right!
I think we found the chicken rock!" 

Alex threw open his door, and they both raced over to the rock. It
looked even more like a chicken up close. He hadn't been expecting to
find it the first time out. He'd had his doubts that they'd find it at
all. But here it was! The chicken rock! He let out a loud cluck and
started beating his arms like wings. Isabel started clucking, too, and
scratching her foot against the ground. They circled each other,
clucking, pecking, scratching, and laughing. He was laughing so hard,
his sides started to cramp. But he didn't care. 

Max was going to live! Isabel was going to live! Michael was going to
live! 

Alex stopped clucking and grabbed Isabel. He swooped her off the ground
and spun them both in fast, dizzying circles. He was obviously in the
midst of some stress/relief-from-stress hysteria. But he didn't care! It
felt too good. 

"Put me down," she half laughed, half gasped. 

He reluctantly slid her to the ground. She spun in one more slow circle,
her laughter trailing off, her smile disappearing. 

"What? We found the chicken rock! Yeah!" he cried. 

"But where's the compound?" Isabel asked. "I don't see anything but
desert." 

"Maybe underground?" Alex offered, starting to feel idiotic for getting
excited over a rock. It wasn't celebration time yet. "We should look for
cracks in the desert floor, like the entrance to your cave." 

"You can't see the cave entrance until you're practically standing on
top of it. And we have no idea how far Valenti drove past this rock,"
Isabel answered. "This is totally hopeless." 

"No, it's not. We'll get everyone out here. Concentrate the search,"
Alex argued, trying to convince himself as much as he was her. 

"It's still going to take too long." Isabel's voice rose into a shriek.
She clasped her hand over her mouth as if she couldn't believe that
sound had come out of her. "Sorry," she muttered. 

"Don't be sorry," Alex reassured her. "I understand." 

"You can't understand," she said quietly, without meeting his gaze. "I
know you want to. I even know you try. But you can't." 

*** 

"That's it. We've covered our assigned section." Liz turned the Jeep
around and headed back toward town. 

Max's eyes felt tired from the strain of staring out into the desert. He
let them drift up to the stars. They were so bright, so close to the
earth. He found the sight of them soothing somehow. 

"A lot of them are part of binary pairs," Liz commented, catching him
stargazing. "Even through a telescope they can still look like a single
star. Things... they just seem to belong in twos," Liz continued. 

He made an oh-interesting kind of noise, without turning toward her. He
wasn't liking the way this conversation was going. 

"What happened to you, it's made me think about the just-friends thing."
Liz suddenly pulled the Jeep off into the desert and stopped. 

"We need to get back," Max said. He lowered his gaze from the sky but
still didn't look at Liz. If she tried to make him talk about how he
felt about her, he would lose it. The bubble would get ripped away all
at once, leaving him defenseless. Skinless. 

"This is important," she insisted, getting that stubborn sound in her
voice. "When you told me we had to be just friends, you said it was for
my own protection." 

"It was, it is," Max answered, without looking at her. "Getting too
close to me can bring Valenti down on you -- you know that. And you know
what he's capable of. He killed Nikolas right in front of us." 

"I know," she told him. "That's not my point. My point is that you've
been keeping us apart because you wanted me to be safe. But it's you
who... who are in danger right now. Not from Valenti. Not from anything
you even knew existed." 

"But what does that have -- ," he began to protest, finally turning to
face her, struck as always by how beautiful she was with her sleek hair,
perfectly formed lips, and dark eyes. 

"I'm trying to explain. Just listen," she said. 

Just listen. As though that was nothing. As though her words weren't
slicing through his heart. 

"We don't know what is going to happen to either of us," she went on.
"You could get hit by a car before your akino even reaches its...
conclusion. I could get leukemia or something. Neither of us knows how
much time we have. I just want to know why you won't let us be together
for whatever time we do have. Why, Max?" 

Max tilted back his head and stared up at the stars. How could he answer
that? How could he explain something that hardly made sense even to him
anymore? 

"I wonder which ones are pairs," he said, stalling. 

"We are," she answered softly. "We shine with the same light." 

He lowered his head and looked at her again. "You're right," he
admitted. "But what if -- " 

"Shhh." Liz unfastened her seat belt and leaned toward him until her
lips were just a fraction away from his. He could feel their warmth
across the tiny distance. 

All he had to do was make one infinitesimal move. How could he turn away
from her? Max closed the distance with the softest kiss. Everything
about this moment felt fragile, as if one wrong breath could shatter it.

Then Liz wrapped her arms around him, squeezing onto the seat beside
him, and he realized he was wrong. There was nothing fragile here. Liz
was strong, and warm, and vitally alive. 

He wanted to get closer to her, even closer. He slid his hands under her
shirt and ran them up the smooth skin of her back. Liz twisted around,
trying to bring more of her body in contact with his. She deepened their
kiss, inviting his tongue into her mouth, stroking it with hers. 

A low groan escaped from his throat. Then Liz let out a yelp of pain. 

Max broke their kiss. "What happened?" he exclaimed. 

"I cut my hand. On the roll bar, I think. There must be a rough rivet or
something," she answered. 

"Let me see." He took her hand and studied it. "It's pretty deep. Let me
heal it for you." 

"It's like the day in the cafe," she said. 

The day he had healed her gunshot wound. The day he had trusted her with
his secret. The day everything had changed forever. Pretty much the best
and worst day of his life. Until today. It was worse, but better, too. 

Max took a deep breath and focused on making the connection he would
need to heal the gash. Instead of the rush of images from Liz he
expected, he got the same one again and again -- the image of him with
his eyes rolled back in his head. 

Why wasn't it working? Why wasn't he in? Max took another breath. Think
of Liz, he told himself. But he only got the same sickening image. 

Liz eased his hand away from hers. "It's okay. It's no big deal. Do you
have a handkerchief or something? We can just make a bandage." 

Max ripped the bottom off his T-shirt and carefully wrapped it across
her palm. "Will you be okay to drive?" he asked. 

"Yeah." She slid back behind the wheel and pulled back onto the highway.
The desert around them felt much darker and dangerous now, now that he
knew he no longer had his powers. 

*** 11 *** 

"Looks like we're the last ones back," Alex commented as he pulled into
the school parking lot. 

Isabel didn't answer. He hadn't really expected her to. She'd been
silent the whole drive back. So had he. Every time he thought of
something to say, he remembered Isabel insisting that he couldn't
understand. And whatever brilliant comment he'd come up with seemed way
too lame to say. 

He parked next to Max's Jeep, and they hurried over to the others. "We
found the chicken rock," he announced. "But no sign of the compound," he
added quickly before they could all start dancing and clucking. 

"At least we're a little closer," Maria said. She pulled the sleeves of
her sweater down over her hands, like she was freezing or something.
Alex didn't think it was that cold out. 

"If you want to assign us areas to search around the rock, I'm
definitely up for going back out there," he told Michael. 

Liz shot a look at Max. "Why don't we meet up here tomorrow morning
instead?" 

Alex took another glance at Max, trying not to be too obvious about it.
Yeah, he looked about ready to topple. "Tomorrow's good for me," Alex
answered. 

"I was thinking we could hit the party at Corrine Williams's," Michael
suggested. "It will have heated up pretty nicely by now." 

"Do you want to?" Alex asked Isabel. He figured a little distraction
might be good. He wondered if she was thinking much about what the akino
info meant to her directly. Or if she was only thinking about Max right
now. 

Alex was definitely trying to keep his brain on the Max problem. If he
started to think about Michael and Isabel... if he started to think
about them dying, too, he'd end up getting himself locked in a loony bin
somewhere. 

Isabel also checked Max's face. "I think I'd rather just go home." 

"You're all going to the party," Max insisted. "What, do you think I
want you all sitting around staring at me?". 

"I like staring at you. Please, please, let me come over and stare at
you," Liz half teased. 

"No, I want you to go, too. It sounds like fun," he told her. "I just
want to go home and crash." 

"Okay, then it's settled. We can all go in my car. Her whole street's
probably going to be jammed," Alex said. 

"I'll drop Max home and then meet up with you," Liz promised. 

They all stood there for a second, then Michael started toward Alex's
car and Alex, Isabel, and Maria fell in behind him. Alex blasted the
radio the second he slid in the driver's seat so they wouldn't have to
try and make conversation. 

He was relieved when he parked at the end of Corrine's block. The party
had spilled out onto the lawn. It was still in the packed, loud, noisy
phase. Perfect. 

Alex slid his arm around Isabel's shoulders as they started down the
street. He felt her tense a little when he touched her. "You okay?" he
whispered. 

She nodded and slipped her arm around his waist, twisting her fingers
around one of his belt loops. Alex got another one of those piggish
bursts of look-at-the-girl-who's-with-me pride, especially as he cut
across Corrine's front yard and headed inside. 

He noticed that he and Isabel were getting quite a few looks. And it
felt pretty good, he had to admit. "I'll get us drinks," he yelled in
her ear. There was no point in both of them fighting their way into the
kitchen. 

She smiled at him, one of those full-out
goddess-Isabel-is-smiling-on-you smiles. For one moment it pushed
everything else out of his mind. Everything. 

He started elbowing his way into the kitchen, unable to keep the big,
dorky smile off his own face. 

"Have I slipped into an alternate universe?" a guy yelled from behind
him. "Because I just saw Isabel Evans walk in here with that guy Alex
from gym. I thought she only went out with college studs and basketball
stars...." 

*** 

Michael leaned against the willow tree in the far corner of Corrine's
backyard. He had thought he wanted to come to the party, -but he'd
forgotten about the Maria factor. 

He was still reeling from what she said to him in the cave. 

It was just too much, too quick. He didn't know what he was supposed to
do now. If he went inside and she came over to him, was he supposed to
dance with her? Driving around in the car with her was hard enough. But
dancing. Touching. How could you do something like that after a girl
said she loved you? Wouldn't she think it meant something? Didn't girls
always think everything meant something? 

What he really wanted was for things to go back the way they were. Where
they could just hang together, have fun, watch bad movies. 

Okay, maybe he'd like things back the way they used to be with some
kissing added in. Now that he had the whole little sister issue out of
the way forever, he would like to be able to kiss Maria once in a while.

But he didn't think he wanted some big, intense, Max-and-Liz tragic love
thing. And the way Maria looked at him when she told him she loved him
-- it didn't get any more big and intense than that. 

*** 

"Stacey said you had to bring Michael and Max to make up for Alex,"
Corrine said into Isabel's ear. 

Stacey said. She wondered how many of the Staceyettes were going to come
over and tell her what Stacey said. Probably every single squealing,
giggling one of them. It's what they lived for. 

She so did not need this tonight. 

"And where's your date?" Isabel pretended to search the crown. "Is he
blowing chunks in the bathroom? Or has he passed out already?" 

"He had to leave early," Corrine answered. Then she rushed away. 

I'll bet he did, sweetie, Isabel thought. She spotted Alex coming out of
the kitchen and made her way over to him. She took the drinks out of his
hands and set them on the floor by the wall. 

"Let's dance first," she said. She grabbed Alex's hand and pulled him
over to a tiny open space near where Doug Highsinger was dancing with
Stacey. She wanted Stacey to see that she wasn't slinking around,
looking like she had something to hide. 

Alex put his hands on her waist, and they started to sway to the music.
Isabel arched her spine and leaned back, making sure her hair brushed
across Doug Highsinger's bare arm. When he looked, she did a slow,
graceful return into Alex's embrace, stretching herself against his
body. 

She didn't need to look to know Dougie kept his eyes on her the whole
way. Take that, jerk-off, she thought. He'd been panting after her since
junior high, but she hadn't gone out with him ever. 

Yep. He had to settle for Stacey. Isabel smiled as she slid her hands
through Alex's hair. Usually she enjoyed the feel of it -- thick and
silky. But now all she cared about was how it looked. She wanted every
guy in the room to wish he was Alex. And every girl to know that's what
every guy was wishing. 

When the song ended, Isabel felt confident her mission had been
accomplished. "I'm going outside for a minute," she told Alex. He
nodded, and she pushed her way out to the backyard. She took in a couple
of deep lungfuls of the crisp night air. Then she spotted Michael over
by the willow tree. 

Isabel wandered over. It was the first time they'd been alone together
since Max had told them about the akino. She didn't really feel like
talking about it right now. 

Michael wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him.
Mmmm, yeah, that was the feeling she was looking for. To feel his strong
shoulders against her back and know that he understood what she was
feeling. Because he was feeling it himself. 

*** 

Maria spotted Alex sitting halfway up Corrine's steps. She made her way
over and plopped down next to him on the shag carpet. She was surprised
that Corrine -- the most materialistic, superficial girl Maria'd ever
met -- tolerated shag carpet in her own house. Maybe she'd convinced
herself it had cool retro appeal. 

"Have you seen Isabel? She disappeared on me," Alex asked. 

Seems to be a trend, she thought. But of course, Michael wasn't her
boyfriend. She couldn't expect him to spend the party with her. 

"Last time I saw her, she was dancing with you," Maria answered. "By the
way, it was quite a show. Girls were, like, about to start shoving
dollar bills down your pants." 

"Cool," Alex answered, but he seemed a little distracted. 

"There's something I want to ask you," Maria told him. "In your capacity
as guy best friend whose job it is to explain the workings of the male
mind." 

"Uh, okay." He plucked a strand out of the shag carpet and rolled it
between his fingers. "What color would you say this is?" 

"Burnt umber," she answered quickly. "Now, if a girl tells a guy that
she loves him, shouldn't he be obligated to give her some kind of
response? In words, I mean." 

"Wait, let me get out my copy of Men Are from Mars, Women Are from
Venus," Alex joked, his eyes restlessly searching the crowd. 

Maria was glad he was only half paying attention. If he was focusing on
her the way he usually did when they talked, he'd have realized she was
talking about herself, and he'd try to get all the gory details. 

"I guess as your representative guy, I'd have to say that lack of words
is a kind of response," Alex continued. "Maybe just not the response a
girl wants to hear." 

"So it means the guy doesn't feel the same way?" Maria pushed. She
started chewing on the ends of her hair, then caught herself. Gross! She
hadn't done that since she was about nine. 

"Uhhh, well, it could," he answered. "But some guys are just not word
guys. They could feel the I-love-you thing on the inside but not be able
to actually spit it out." 

"I just have to say that you've been no help to me," Maria informed him.

"Look, words are overrated," Alex said. "You know how someone feels
about you by how they treat you. That's what it comes down to. Now I'm
going to go find Isabel, the Vanishing Woman." He stood up and left
Maria sitting on the steps alone. 

How he treats me, she thought. How he treats me is that he's not getting
close enough to treat me in any way at all. 

*** 

Liz quietly opened her front door. She didn't know why she bothered to
be quiet. Her parents always wanted her to tell them when she got home,
whether they were sleeping or not. 

She headed straight to their bedroom door and gave a quick double knock,
followed by three slow ones. She called it the
made-it-back-alive-and-drug-free knock. But only to herself, of course. 

"Good night, mi hija," her papa called. 

"Night," she answered. She wondered if she should phone over to
Corrine's and tell Maria or somebody that she wasn't coming. No, they'd
figure it out. 

She wandered down the hall to the kitchen. She thought she'd get some
milk, maybe even some turkey if there was any left. She knew it was
going to be one of those nights when she needed a little help going to
sleep. 

Liz reached for the fridge handle and noticed that a new picture of her
had appeared on the door. It was truly embarrassing to see her own face
wallpapering the fridge. 

At least when Rosa was alive, pictures of her had taken up half the
space. Liz reminded herself that she had to go through the basement and
see if she could find those pictures. Every single photo of Rosa had
disappeared the day after she died. 

Not that Liz needed them to remember her sister. She thought about her
every day. The same way she'd think of Max. 

If... 

*** 12 *** 

"I wish I could go out with you guys again tonight," Maria said from her
perch on the edge of Alex's chair. "But my dad bought these concert
tickets a long time ago. He's really psyched for father-daughter bonding
-- just me and him, no Kevin." 

"Go and bond. It's fine," Max told her. "If anyone else has something to
do, go ahead and do it. You've spent the whole day crawling across the
desert floor around the chicken rock." 

He almost wished they would all go away. At least for a while. It felt
so strange being at the center of all this attention -- all this
anxious, watchful, careful attention. 

Michael spread his map out on the Evanses' coffee table. They were using
Max and Isabel's place as their home base because their parents were
spending the weekend in Clovis, where they had their second office. They
had so much work to get done for Monday that they figured it was a waste
to drive all the way back to Roswell just to sleep. 

"We'll just keep extending our search out in a widening circle around
the rock," Michael explained. "Plus Ray's going to keep the area on
round-the-clock surveillance. He might be able to spot someone on their
way into the compound and follow them." 

Maria stood up and grabbed her backpack. Then she rushed over,
practically flung herself at Max, and kissed him on the cheek, her aura
swooshing through his. "Okay, I'm going. Bye." She turned around and
rushed out of the room before he could react. 

Max hoped he was wrong, but he thought he'd heard the sound of tears in
her voice. If Maria was going to cry every time she looked at him, he
really wouldn't be able to take it. 

"Alex and Isabel, you take this section," Michael continued. "And Liz
and Max -- " 

He was interrupted by Maria dashing back into the room. "I have an idea.
It's kind of wacky, but it might work," she burst out. "You guys know
how to use your power to change people's appearance, right?" 

Max nodded. He'd only done it once, besides practicing with Ray. And
that was to spy on Liz when she was out with another guy. Max glanced
over at her, and she smiled at him. He knew she was thinking about the
same thing. 

"Anyway, I thought all of you could go out to different bars and stuff
looking like the guard I saw at the compound where the ship is kept. His
face is burned into my memory," Maria explained. "Then maybe somebody
who knows the guard, the real guard, will come up and start a
conversation. If it's somebody he knows from work -- " 

"We could get some key information," Michael interrupted. "I think it's
definitely worth a shot." He turned to Max. "Want to try it?" 

"Why not?" Max asked. Then he remembered. The akino had destroyed his
power. How could he have forgotten that? "You and Isabel will have to do
it for Liz and Alex and me," he admitted. "I can't do... anything like
that anymore." 

"Just tell us how," Isabel said quickly. 

He hated feeling so helpless. What was next? Would someone have to
spoon-feed him? Wipe his butt for him? What? 

"It's not that much different from healing," he told Isabel and Michael.
"Except instead of squeezing the molecules to close a cut or something,
you squeeze them and push them to form the skin and bone into different
shapes." 

"I'll try it on Liz," Michael said. 

Max got up and traded places with Michael so he could be next to Liz. He
wasn't too happy with the idea of Michael connecting to Liz, touching
her. But he knew he was being a big baby, and he told himself to just
get over it. 

Maria described the guard with enthusiastic hand movements. "All right,
so he had roundish, middle-aged cheeks... and deep laugh lines... and a
flat, wide nose." 

Michaels eyes widened as he touched his fingertips to Liz's face. His
hands began to massage her cheeks, kneading them like dough. He listened
to Maria's suggestions and sculpted Liz's face accordingly. In no time
Liz's face looked like a middle-aged man's. Michael pulled back his
hands and showed Maria the results. 

"No, no, no. I'm sorry. It just doesn't look like the image in my head.
What if I connect to you, Michael, and transmit my mental picture to
you?" Maria asked. 

"Let's try it," Michael said. 

Maria connected to Michael. He placed his hands on Liz's face again, and
it slowly began to morph -- the eyes from blue to brown, bushier
eyebrows, and a slight double chin. "That's it, that's it," Maria urged
him on. 

Michael's hands glided up into Liz's hair. It turned mottled orange,
then lightened to dishwater blond, and finally changed to white,
shrinking in length as it made the color switch. The final result was
bristly, just longer than a crew cut. 

"Perfect. It's like that doll," Maria mumbled. "You know the one where
you could sort of reel its hair back into its head to make it short?" 

Liz glanced over her shoulder at Max. "How do I look as a blond? A
practically bald blond, I mean," she asked, running her fingers over her
buzz cut. 

"I wouldn't kick you out of bed," Michael answered before Max could. 

"Come on. Let's get on with this," Isabel demanded. "I want to get out
of here." 

After a couple minutes' work Liz was ready. The Maria-Michael connection
moved on to Alex. Isabel decided to morph herself. 

"I'm going to get something to drink," Max said. He felt so useless
here. Maria giving instructions. Isabel and Michael working on Alex and
Liz. And him sitting there twiddling his thumbs. The word loser came to
mind. 

He slowly made his way into the kitchen, his feet feeling as heavy as
cement blocks. He dropped down into the closest chair and rested his
head on the table. In here, alone, he didn't have to pretend that he
wasn't absolutely exhausted, to the point where just sitting up and
breathing felt like a workout. 

"Max, your turn," Michael called. Max jerked up his head. How could they
be done with Liz and Alex already? He checked the clock on the kitchen
stove and realized he'd been sitting there for almost half an hour. He
must have dozed off. Usually he couldn't sleep more than his two hours a
night even if he wanted to. Now he was dropping off without even
realizing it. 

Max shoved himself to his feet, and a tremor sizzled through his legs.
He took a deep breath and focused on making it into the living room and
keeping the fear off his face. "I think I'm going to have to stay here,"
he admitted as he lowered himself to the couch. 

"I'll stay with you," Liz immediately volunteered. At least he thought
it was her. The words had come out of the mouth of a burly blond guy
with a husky voice and a nondescript gray security guard's outfit.
Michael obviously hadn't missed the vocal cords when he made the
transformation. 

"I don't need a baby-sitter," he answered, trying to keep the irritation
out of his tone. "Getting information on the ship, that's the most
important thing you can do for me," he added, trying to reassure her. 

She nodded and turned to the other two "guards." Isabel had already
finished the job on Alex and done herself. "We should pick different
parts of town," Liz told them. "Two of us can't show up at the same
place." They began dividing up the town's bars and clubs as they headed
out of the room. 

"Be careful," Max called after them as they left for their mission.
"Call if... you need something." 

Like there was anything he'd be able to do if they did. 

"You can be our Charlie, and we'll be your Angels," Alex called back. At
least Max was pretty sure it was Alex. The voice was the same as Liz's,
but it was an Alex kind of thing to say. 

"You better catch up with them and get an assignment," Max told Michael.
"Liz is right. It could be dangerous if anyone sees two of you together.
I'm not sure if the Project Clean Slate agents know we can change our
appearance. But if they do, and they see two guards -- " 

"I'm not going out," Michael interrupted. 

"You're not staying with me," Max protested. 

"So do you want to lie on the couch? Or do you want to go to bed?"
Michael asked matter-of-factly. 

Max gave up. "Bed, I guess." 

Michael crossed over to him and reached out his hand. Max took it and
let Michael help him to his feet. 

Alex had a moment of anxiety when he walked into Moe's, one of the few
places in Roswell that didn't have some kind of alien theme going on.
Then he realized that there was no way he was going to get carded. He
was, like, thirty years old or something. 

He headed up to the bar and ordered a ginger ale. He figured the color
could pass for a mixed drink, so he wouldn't feel like a total wuss. 

Alex did a quick scan of the. room. Whew, no Dad. He thought he might
see his father there because Moe's was the hangout for the town's
retired military guys. Alex didn't know if Project Clean Slate had any
military connection, but it seemed likely that it could, so he figured
Moe's was a decent place to find somebody who knew the guard. 

He tossed aside the ridiculously thin straw and gulped down some of the
ginger ale while he took a slower look around. He was hoping someone
would give him a nod, or a half wave, anything that showed they had seen
him -- the guard -- before. No dice. 

If the guard came in here often enough, the bartender would probably
recognize him. But the place was packed, so the guy had just slammed
Alex's drink down and raced toward the end of the bar. So Alex couldn't
get a sense of whether he recognized the guard or not. 

When I get a second round, maybe I'll pretend like I have amnesia and
ask him if he knows who I am. Alex snorted. He could just picture
himself reeling around the bar with his hands pressed to his temples,
murmuring, "Where am I? Who are you? Who am I?" 

Maybe it would have been better to keep searching the area around the
rock. But they could go back to that tomorrow. Alex couldn't help
wondering how much time they had left. 

Max was looking bad. The effects of the akino were speeding up. And it
was really affecting his body now. In less than a day his face had
thinned out. You could practically see the bones pushing their way
through his thin, translucent skin. Alex felt a pang of shock every time
he looked at Max. 

"Scotch. Rocks," a voice ordered behind him. 

A way too familiar voice. You knew it could happen, Alex reminded
himself. He glanced over and saw his dad sliding onto the next bar
stool. 

"You military?" he asked Alex. 

Of course. His dad grouped everyone into military or not military. He'd
want to know who he was dealing with. 

"Navy," Alex answered. It just sprang from his mouth, maybe because
Jesse had been talking about it so much. Maybe because, for once, he had
an opportunity to impress his dad. 

"Have one in the navy, one in the marines," his dad answered. 

Obviously I'm not worth mentioning, Alex thought. "Any other kids?" he
asked, just to see if his dad would continue to deny Alex's existence
under direct questioning. 

"One. Senior in high school and he has no idea what he wants to do with
his life. None," his dad answered. 

"Huh," Alex grunted. Then he realized he had a real opportunity. A
chance to bait Pops for his own benefit. 

"Sounds like my brother, Willy," Alex commented. "My dad was really
worried about him. He tried to straighten him out by getting him to
start an ROTC program at his high school. But Willy... he kept weaseling
out of it. Too busy farting around on his computer and chasing after
girls to bother. He managed to graduate without accomplishing a damn
thing." That last bit was pretty much a direct quote from his dad about
what was going to happen to Alex. 

"Exactly." His dad pounded his fist on the bar. "Exactly like my son. He
doesn't realize that what he does in the next couple of years will
determine the course of his entire life." 

You suck down that bait, Dad, Alex thought, starting to really enjoy his
little fishing trip. 

"So how'd this brother of yours turn out?" Alex's dad asked. 

"You aren't going to believe this," Alex answered. He drained his ginger
ale, savoring the moment before he reeled his dad in and left him
gasping on the shore. 

"Willy's done real well for himself. You've probably heard of him. He
goes by Bill now. Bill Gates." 

His dad choked on an ice cube. 

Alex grinned. Yeah, Dad. Think of that next time you start harassing me
about the ROTC. I could grow up to be a big software designer who owns
pretty much half the known universe. 

*** 

Isabel pulled the Jeep into the Weather Balloon's parking lot. The neon
sign cast a rainbow of colors over the asphalt -- the blue of the
balloon, the green of the little alien who kept peeking out from behind
it, the red of the alien's ray gun. 

She hopped out of the Jeep and stumbled. She was still getting used to
her new body. The guard had some serious mass, most of it muscle, but
still. 

A fortyish woman in leggings with little green men all over them smiled
at Isabel as she approached the door. Isabel smiled back. She believed
in being kind to the less fortunate. And anyone who thought she was
attractive enough to wear those leggings in public definitely qualified.

The woman's smile grew even wider. Flirtatious. 

Isabel gave a soft little groan. She thinks I'm coming on to her, Isabel
realized. She thinks I'm a bleached-blond male bimbo -- a, uh, mimbo
ripe for the picking. 

She made a blank facial expression as she walked past the woman and into
the bar. Yeah, she was a guy, but unwanted attention was unwanted
attention. And Isabel knew how to deal with that. 

Oh no. Wait, she thought. What if that woman knew me -- the guard? What
if I just blew off the person I came here hoping to find? 

Isabel glanced at the woman. She wasn't shooting any evil glances in the
guard's direction, which she probably would have had she known him and
he just walked right by her like that. 

This acting-like-the-guard assignment was going to be trickier than
she'd thought. She spotted an empty table and headed over. Then she sat
down and crossed her legs. 

Very masculine, she scolded herself. She uncrossed her legs and did that
thing guys do, where they take up as much space as they possibly can.
She draped her arm over the rail next to the table and spread her legs
wide apart. Yeah, she was a man. Give her some room. 

Max would crack up if he could see her right now. His little sister
working the big strongman thing. 

The thought of Max sent a stab of fear through her. The akino seemed to
be entering a new stage -- attacking his body. And what was she doing to
help him? Sitting in a bar trying to remember not to cross her legs like
a girl. 

A waitress in a tight Weather Balloons T-shirt hurried up to her table.
The double Os in Balloon were extra big -- and positioned right over her
chest. Poor girl, Isabel thought. She must get a lot of comments from
the classy guys who hang out here. 

"I'll have a beer," Isabel said, making sure to look the waitress right
in the eye. She figured she was probably the only guy not to stare at
her Os all night. The waitress must have appreciated it, too, because
she was back with Isabel's drink within seconds. 

Isabel pretended to take a swallow of beer. She'd only ordered it
because it seemed like what a guy like her would order. Besides, if
she'd ordered a soda, she would have been tempted to drink it, and then
she might have to pee, and peeing was not something she wanted to
attempt in this body. 

I wish I knew what my name is supposed to be, she thought. Someone could
be calling me from the other side of the room and I wouldn't know it.
She did a check of the crowd, moving her eyes quickly from person to
person, careful not to give any of the ladies any ideas. 

Her eyes lingered on the clock behind the bar. It had been almost an
hour since she'd seen Max. She was almost afraid to go home when she was
done here. Afraid to see what new changes she'd see in him. 

Isabel scanned the crowd again, just in case she'd missed anyone. She
didn't see even a flash of recognition on anyone's face. Maria's plan
was insane. This was never going to work. And searching for the compound
was turning out to be one step above counting all the grains of sand in
the desert. Just another flavor of impossible. 

A squeal from the next table jerked her attention in that direction. Her
waitress was glaring at a prepster college boy and his two smirking
buddies. The front of her T-shirt was soaked. 

"Hey, sorry," prepster boy said, not very sincerely. "I thought I heard
them announce the start of the wet T-shirt contest. You wanted to enter,
right?" 

"Wrong," Isabel answered for her. This was one problem that wasn't
impossible, and it would be her very definite pleasure to deal with it.
She turned to the prepster. "Apologize." 

The prepster stared at her a moment, eyes glazed. Then he turned to the
waitress. 

"I'm sorry," he told the waitress. Then he winked at his buds. "Let me
help dry you off." 

Isabel leaped up before he could touch the girl. She grabbed him by the
front of his shirt and yanked him out from behind his table. Then she
pulled back her meaty arm and slammed her fist into his nose. She smiled
when it squirted blood. 

It was good to have a problem with an easy solution. 

*** 13 *** 

Liz felt someone tap her on the shoulder. This was great. She'd only
been at UFOnics for about half an hour, and somebody had recognized her.
She turned around and felt a jolt of pure dread. 

Sheriff Valenti stood in front of her. "Come with me," he ordered. He
turned around and headed for the exit. 

He thinks you're the guard, she told herself as she followed him out
into the parking lot. He thinks you're some guy who works at the
compound. This could be a chance to get some good info. Just chill. 

Valenti headed straight for his cruiser. The sound of his boot heels
against the pavement made her teeth ache. He climbed into the car,
obviously assuming she'd just get in, too, without asking for any more
information. 

Liz walked around to the passenger door, hoping she didn't move too
differently from the guard. She didn't have an especially girlie walk in
her own body, so she was probably doing okay. She jerked open the door,
slid inside, and slammed it closed. 

She took a fast peek at Valenti. For once he wasn't wearing his mirrored
shades. But it was still impossible to figure out what he was thinking.
If Valenti's eyes were the mirror to his soul, then clearly he didn't
have one. Alert the media. As if that wasn't painfully obvious already. 

Valenti pulled out of the parking lot and headed away from the center of
town. "You need to take part in some tests at the compound. Nerz got
sick, and no one but you has clearance. Fortunately you're predictable
in your after-hours activities." 

Liz felt relief explode through her like a fireworks show. Maybe once
she got inside the compound, she'd be able to find a way on board the
ship. Maybe she'd be able to get the crystals tonight! Even if she
didn't, they would be so much closer to saving Max's life than they had
been before. 

"Something amusing you, Towner?" Valenti asked. Probably because her
smile was covering her entire face. 

Now at least she knew her name. Towner. "No. Just thinking of a joke
someone told me," Liz answered. She figured there was no chance Valenti
would be interested enough in humor to ask, and she was right. 

As they passed the chamber of commerce billboard on the outskirts of
town, Liz checked the odometer. When they pulled off the highway, she'd
check it again. She could hardly believe she was being handed the
location of the compound by Sheriff Valenti himself. 

Unless... what if the real guard is already at the compound? she
thought. What if Valenti knows that? What if that's why he's bringing me
there -- because he thinks I'm an alien with the ability to alter my
appearance? What if he doesn't care if I know the location because he's
not planning on ever letting me leave? 

Suddenly it felt as if half the air had been sucked out of the cruiser.
And the air that remained was thick with the odor of smoke and sweat. 

Even if all that's true, there's nothing you can do about it now, she
told herself. What, are you going to dive out of a moving car and take
off into the desert? Valenti would probably shoot you. 

That thought didn't help her anxiety. She stared out at the empty
highway and tried to count the dotted lines as they sped by. She needed
something to focus on. But Valenti was going too fast. 

He made a sharp left and swung the cruiser off into the desert. He was
heading toward the chicken rock. At least Maria got that part right. 

Two-and-a-third miles later, they passed the rock. The cruiser kept
bouncing across the desert in a straight line. 

Liz's eyes kept darting to the odometer. -Three miles. Seven. Eleven.
Fourteen. They were heading toward a large rock formation. That would be
a good landmark. She'd have to remember it. 

"Open the entrance," Valenti told her. 

Liz's heart lurched up to her throat. Obviously this was something she
was supposed to know how to do. There must be some kind of remote or
something. She hoped. 

She popped open the glove compartment. Papers. Sunglasses. A couple of
flares. 

"Exactly how much did you have to drink tonight?" Valenti asked. 

"I didn't know I'd be working," Liz answered. 

Valenti gave a disgusted snort. Then he grabbed what looked like an
ordinary garage door opener with a few extra buttons off the dashboard
and thrust it at her. 

Pick a button, any button, Liz thought wildly. She jammed down the one
closest to her thumb. Nothing happened. She shot a glance at Valenti.
Had he noticed? 

Don't think about that, just try another one, she ordered herself. She
stabbed down the button in the upper-left corner. Nothing. She tried the
one next to it... and the middle of the rock formation split open. 

No wonder Max and Michael searched for years without finding this place,
she thought. A gasp escaped from her lips. She tried to cover it with a
coughing fit. Was Valenti picking up on any of her little screwups?
There was no way to tell. His face was impassive, as always. She bet he
didn't even blink when he shot Nikolas. 

Don't go there, she thought. She couldn't think about Valenti killing
someone. She was way too nervous already. 

Liz struggled to keep any sign of amazement off her face as Valenti
drove straight into the opening. I'm probably supposed to shut the door,
too, she thought. She hit the button that had worked the last time. With
astonishing speed the doors slammed shut. Clipping off one of Valenti's
tail-lights. 

"Sorry," she mumbled. 

"No problem. I'll take it out of your salary," he answered. 

Sorry to you, too, Towner, Liz thought as the car started to descend
with a slow, even motion. 

They'd driven into a massive elevator. It opened into an underground
parking garage. Valenti pulled into a space marked Reserved. 

He climbed out of the car, again assuming Liz would follow. She
scrambled after him. He led the way down a long cement corridor, like
the one Maria had seen the night she used the Stone to track him. 

Liz was so close. The ship could be around any corner. 

They reached a huge metal door. Valenti keyed in a code. The door split
open, and they continued into a huge open room. Inside were two rows of
glass cells. There was a bed in each of them, but only one was made up. 

A shudder swept through Liz. Is this where Max, Michael, and Isabel
would be brought if Valenti ever learned the truth about them? Would
they be kept in here like lab animals, constantly monitored? 

Valenti crossed the room without speaking to either of the guards
stationed near the cell that seemed to have been recently occupied. He
unlocked a smaller door and held it open for Liz. 

"You'll be given your instructions in a moment," he informed her. The
moment she stepped inside, he shut the door behind her and locked it. 

The room was empty except for a metal table and one folding chair. Liz
sat down and waited. At least she was going to be given instructions.
That was good. No one was expecting her to already know what she was
doing. 

"Towner, all you are doing tonight is describing anything that occurs in
your room," a voice said through the intercom. 

Liz shifted her weight on the cold metal chair. Anything that occurs in
your room. She didn't quite like the sound of that. What were these
experiments, anyway? They had to connect to aliens somehow, didn't they?
Or was that only one area Project Clean Slate covered? 

What if these tests were to determine the effect of some new biological
weapon? Some smart virus or something? 

It was too late to worry about that now. She was pretty sure the door
was locked from the outside. And even if it wasn't, she -- 

Wait. Something was happening. Liz cleared her throat. "Um, I see a spot
of shimmering air at about eye level. It's approximately the size of a
basketball." 

Liz gripped the edge of the table with both hands, waiting to see what
would happen next. A moment later an image formed in the circle. 

"I see an image that looks like a hologram. It's a man sitting in a
restaurant. Fancy. White tablecloth. Candles. I can hear violin music.
And I can tell the man is excited. Nervous. Happy. All of those." 

Liz didn't know how, but she was getting feelings from the man in the
hologram. It's like what Max described when he told me how Ray showed
him a hologram of his parents' ship crashing, she realized. 

So maybe that was what was going on. Maybe the Project Clean Slate
agents were trying to duplicate alien technology or something. She
relaxed her grip on the table. She was going to get through this okay.
All she had to do was look at some floating pictures. And if she was
lucky, she'd get a glimpse of the ship on her way out. 

"Anything else?" the voice asked through the intercom. 

Liz studied the hologram. "I know he's getting ready to ask his
girlfriend to marry him," she said. "I don't know how I know. It's not
like I can hear his thoughts or anything. But I just... know." 

The hologram disappeared. Bummer. I didn't even get to find out what she
said, Liz thought. She was feeling a little giddy. Or woozy, like she'd
had way too much cough medicine... while bouncing on a trampoline. 

The air in front of her began to shimmer again. Oh, goody. Time for the
second feature. Liz wondered how they -- whoever they were -- would feel
about a request for popcorn with lots of that fake butter flavoring. 

"Oh, I forgot to say the air has started to shimmer," she said quickly.
She didn't want to get Towner in any more trouble than he already was. 

"The hologram has appeared," she continued. "It's another restaurant.
I've seen it in town. The Crashdown Cafe. There are two men sitting in a
booth." 

Liz's heart slammed up her throat when she recognized them. The day she
got shot. Oh God, the day she got shot, these two were in the cafe.
Fighting. The muscular man, he was the one who'd pulled the gun. He
aimed for the beefy guy, but the beefy guy knocked his arm away. The gun
went off, and the next thing Liz knew she was slammed against the wall,
her stomach wet with her own blood. 

"Go on," the voice said over the intercom. 

"The men are both angry. They each think the other one cheated them out
of some money," Liz said, trying to sound like this meant nothing to
her. 

This time the hologram let her see what happened next. She got to see
the gun drawn again. See the shot fired. 

"The more muscular man just shot a waitress. I can feel the pain from
her," Liz continued. 

And she could. She could feel the pain again. Exactly as she'd felt it
that day. 

Exactly. 

Oh God. Somehow they were getting the image from her. This time the
hologram was like a memory playback. Like when Ray showed Max the ship.
That must be why she'd been feeling so weird and dizzy. Someone had been
accessing her brain. 

And in about two more seconds the hologram projector would show Max
vault over the counter and heal Liz's gunshot wound with the touch of
his hands. 

Liz let out a piercing scream. "Make it stop," she howled. "It's like a
drill going through my eyeballs. Make it stop." 

The hologram disappeared. Valenti burst through the door. 

Liz pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes and doubled over.
Was Valenti buying this? Did he believe she was in agony? Or had he
discovered her disguise and decided to torture her? 

Slowly Liz lowered her hands. 

"What the hell happened?" Valenti demanded. 

"You tell me," Liz shot back. "I felt like my head was going to explode.
I didn't sign up for this." 

"I'll get you an escort home," Valenti answered. "But I better not find
out that your exploding head was alcohol induced." 

He gave her a long look as she walked past him. Clearly he had the
feeling. something was off, but he couldn't figure out exactly what. 

Liz wondered if he'd make the connection when they came back in and
stole the crystals. 

*** 14 *** 

Maria felt tears burn her eyes -- again. Aren't you just a little ray of
sunshine? she asked herself. In another minute Max was going to ban her
from his room permanently. She could tell that her crying made him
really uncomfortable. 

And why wouldn't it? It was like she was holding up a big sign that
said, "Guess what, Max? You're dying!" 

He looked bad, though. All sunken in on himself. The others had noticed
it, too. Liz, Isabel, and Michael kept taking cautious little glances at
him. They were careful not to stare but were obviously shaken by his
appearance. 

When Alex burst into the room, she was very happy for the distraction.
"Sorry I'm late," he told them. "My dad wouldn't let me leave the house
until I showed him my web page, if you can believe that." 

"We're trying to figure out the best way into the compound. Any ideas?"
Michael asked him. 

The doorbell rang before he could answer. "I got it," Maria said. She
rushed out. On the way to the door she pulled a vial of cedar oil out of
her pocket and took a few deep breaths. It hadn't been helping her much
lately, but it was better than nothing. 

She swung open the door and found Ray Iburg standing there. "We're all
in Max's room," she told him as she led the way back. 

"I thought you might need an extra power source when you go into the
compound," he said as they stepped through the doorway. 

"Great. We might need a shield like the one that froze Valenti in the
mall," Michael answered. 

Ray shook his head. "I'm not recharged enough for that yet. It took a
huge amount of power. I won't be able to do it again for probably a
month," he explained. "But I can still knock someone out if I have to." 

"That could also be useful," Michael said. "Okay, the team will be you,
me, and Isabel, then." 

He was in commando mode. Focused entirely on strategy. For once Maria
didn't have to wonder if he was thinking about Isabel or her. He wasn't
thinking about either of them. 

"Wait. I -- ," Alex began to protest. 

"You don't have powers to protect yourself," Michael cut him off. 

Alex nodded. It made sense to Maria, too. And it reminded her for about
the millionth time that Michael and Isabel were close in a way that she
and Michael could never be. Michael and Isabel shared the same powers,
the same history. Michael and Maria shared the same taste in movies.
Huh. Now, class, which Is the basis for a real relationship? 

"Why doesn't one of you change your appearance to look like Valenti?"
Liz asked, rapid-fire fast. "Valenti rules that place. As him, you'd
have access to everything. "	"•"•-•'*-'; "•-••; •*• 

"Perfect plan. I'll do it," Michael said. 

"You and I should change our appearance, too," Ray told Isabel. "That
way when they come looking for us, we can just disappear." 

"We need to make sure that Valenti's not already at the compound before
you head out. I'll call his house. Say I want them to switch their
long-distance carrier or something." Alex hurried out of the room. 

Max pulled in a long, rasping, rattling breath. A breath that sounded so
painful, Maria didn't know how he could stand to keep breathing. 

What if they don't get back in time? That was the thought she'd been
trying to keep from thinking. She raked her fingers through her hair and
tried to bury the thought again. 

Alex rushed back into the room. "He's there. And he was not happy to get
a sales call on a Sunday morning." 

"You should go stake out his house," Michael said. 

"I'll go, too," Maria volunteered. She couldn't stay here with Max --
her aura was too filled with grief already. 

"What are you going to do if he leaves for the compound?" Liz asked.
"You don't have any way to warn Michael." 

"I'll stop him," Alex answered, with total conviction. 

Maria believed him. Alex had more than a little commando in him, too,
much as he didn't want to be Mr. Military. 

"Let's go," Alex told Maria. 

She obediently moved toward the door. But then she turned and looked
back into the room. Her eyes sought out Michael. This could be the last
time she ever saw him. 

*** 

Liz stared down at Max's face. He'd fallen into a restless sleep, so for
once she could really look at him, study the changes in him, without
worrying that she would frighten him. 

She noted each detail as if she were 'in bio lab. Somehow that made it a
little easier. Small patches of his skin were flaking away. His lips
were dry and chapped, with a few spots of dried blood. His eyes were
sunk deep into his head. His cheeks were sunken, too. His neck was -- 

Stop, she thought. Stop reducing him to all these little pieces of
damaged flesh. This is Max. It's still Max, the guy you love. 

Liz reached out and took his hand. She wondered if the sensation worked
its way into his dreams somehow. She hoped so. 

She checked her watch. Michael, Isabel, and Ray should be at the
compound soon. She wondered how long it would take them to find the
crystals. She was afraid that -- even if they found them immediately --
it would be too late. Max's deterioration was accelerating at a
terrifying rate. 

He was slipping away from her, and she was powerless to stop him. She
tightened her grip on his hand, lacing her fingers with his. But it
wasn't enough. She needed to be closer to him. Even closer. 

Liz kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed next to Max. She wrapped
her arm across his chest and buried her face in his shoulder. "I'm not
going to let you go, Max," she whispered. 

He was so cold. It was like his body wasn't throwing off any heat at
all. She pressed herself closer, trying to share her warmth with him. "I
love you, Max," she said. "I love you. Stay with me, okay? You've got to
stay with me." 

She pulled Max's arm around her, trying to get closer still. It lay
there limp and heavy. Lifeless. The arm of a corpse. 

She sat up fast and sprang off the bed. She pressed her fingers against
Max's lips and felt the reassuring puff of air as he let out a breath.
"Sorry, Max," she whispered. "I didn't mean to freak." She smoothed the
covers over him and fluffed his pillow. She felt something hard and cool
against her fingers and pulled it out. 

Her silver bracelet. Max had turned it to liquid on her wrist the day
that he had told her he was an alien. He had been trying to convince her
he wasn't lying. 

She'd been so totally terrified. Terrified of Max. When he'd re-formed
the bracelet and taken a step toward her to give it to her, she'd
bolted. 

And he'd kept it. He'd actually been sleeping with it under his pillow.
Liz ran her finger over the braided silver, and the tears came flooding
out of her. Max didn't need this seeping into his dreams. He didn't need
her weak and wailing. He needed her to be strong, holding on tight,
willing him to live. 

She rushed out of his room and down the hall to the bathroom. She locked
the door behind her and sat down on the edge of the tub, rocking back
and forth, letting the sobs overtake her. 

After a few minutes she stood up and moved to the sink. She splashed
some cold water on her face and dried her face roughly. She met her gaze
in the medicine cabinet mirror. "Enough," she said firmly. "Max needs
you with him." 

She turned and walked out of the bathroom and down the hall. When she
stepped through Max's doorway, his eyes were open. He cleared his throat
hard. "Was. I dreaming..." He cleared his throat again "Or were you in
bed with me before?" he asked. 

She smiled at him. "You weren't dreaming," she answered. 

"Not how... I imagined it." 

It was obvious the words were taking a tremendous effort. Droplets of
sweat were running down his face. He winced as they stung the cracks in
his skin. 

"There will be another time," she promised him. 

She hoped she was telling the truth. 

*** 15 *** 

"Liz said there was some kind of remote to open a door in the rock
formation, which we don't have," Michael said as they drove the car Ray
had rented toward the compound. 

Michael hadn't even thought about the fact that the Project Clean Slate
people could trace a car as easily as they could a face. Easier. He was
glad Ray had had the idea of renting the car under one of his old
identities. Ray had switched faces and names a few times since he'd been
stranded on earth. 

"I'm sure they have some kind of surveillance cameras," Ray answered.
"We'll just give them a good look at your Valenti mug, and I'm sure
someone will scurry right out and let us in. Probably even apologize for
not doing it faster." 

That worked for Michael. There were advantages to being a Valenti clone.
Although every time he caught sight of his gray eyes in the rearview
mirror, it gave him the wiggins. 

Michael's own eyes were gray, so it wasn't that much of a color change.
But he couldn't shake the feeling that when he looked into his
reflection, it was Valenti staring back. Valenti, the guy who wanted him
dead or locked up in one of those cells Liz had seen and experimented on
for the rest of his life. 

"You okay back there, Iz?" he asked over his shoulder. 

"Yeah," she muttered. 

Didn't sound convincing. He knew it was freaking her out to be in the
same car with him looking like this. Isabel had had nightmares about
Valenti from the time she was a little girl. The sheriff was the
embodiment of her darkest fears about what could happen to her if anyone
found out the truth. 

"You're not going to ask if I'm okay?" Ray joked. 

"You better be because we've arrived," Michael answered. He pulled to a
stop in front of the rock formation. Michael got out of the car and
stared straight ahead, trying to look mildly pissed off. A moment later
a massive door slid open. 

"Welcome to the Bat Cave," Michael muttered as he slid back behind the
wheel. He pulled into the elevator Liz had told them about, and when
they got to the bottom, he parked in the reserved space. He was Valenti.
The big cheeseball. 

A guard hustled over as soon as he, Ray, and Isabel set foot out of the
car. "We weren't expecting you until tonight," he said. 

"That's why I'm here. I want to see what things are like when I'm not
expected," Michael answered. He didn't bother to tell him who Ray and
Isabel were. He figured Valenti wouldn't bother to explain himself to a
peon. 

Liz's plan was working out great. He could just act like he was doing
some kind of inspection or even giving Ray and Isabel a tour, and they
could search every inch of the place. 

But actually, why search? This peon would fall all over himself to do
whatever Valenti wanted. "I want to show my associates the ship," he
said. 

My associates. He liked that. Kind of mysterious and
you're-way-too-insignificant-to-know-who-theyreally-are. Maybe he should
take this show on the road. Do a tour as a Valenti impersonator. 

He couldn't believe that thought had popped into his mind. He felt like
he was partially buzzed or something. He was actually going to see the
ship. He'd spent almost his whole life looking for it, and it was here. 

The guard nodded and led the way through a maze of cement corridors,
stopping now and then to punch in a security code. When they reached a
huge set of metal doors, the guard stepped back. He obviously wanted
Michael to do something, but what? 

"Please step up to the red line and remove glasses for retina scan," an
automated female voice instructed. 

Michael automatically moved into position, but his intestines were
practically squirming around inside him. His eyes looked like Valenti's,
sure. But there's no way his retinas would be a match. No possible way. 

A beam of light passed over his eyes. 

"Individual not identified," the voice announced. "Access denied." 

The guard pulled out a walkie-talkie and mumbled into it. This was it.
They were toast. Unless they moved pretty damn fast. 

Ray moved up behind the guard, ready to knock him out. Isabel looked
ready to take on everyone in the whole place, judging from her narrowed
eyes and the way her hands had curled into fists at her sides. Time to
rock and roll, Michael thought. Then the doors slid open. 

"I'll get someone to go over the system," the guard said, his face pink
with embarrassment. 

Was it really going to be this easy? Not that he was complaining. 

"You do that," Michael answered as he stepped through the doors, Ray and
Isabel close beside him. 

The ship lay before them. A sleek wedge of metal that was smaller than
Michael expected. But looking at it, he found it hard to breathe. 

This ship had been built on a planet in a galaxy that humans didn't even
have a name for. It had carried his parents all the way here. And they
had died inside it when they began the return voyage. 

Michael felt like he could stand here for hours, just staring at it. The
construction was awesome. He didn't see a seam. Not a bolt. Not a rivet.
Nothing. Talk about aerodynamic. The metal itself was even more
mind-bending. In places it looked almost liquid. Molten. Rippling as if
alive. 

Isabel elbowed him. "We have a timetable to keep, Sheriff," she said. 

"Right." Michael strode over to the ship, then hesitated. Where were the
doors on this thing? He didn't see a handle. 

Ray reached out and touched a small raised circle, and a door appeared.
Isabel took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold. 

"Go ahead," Ray told Michael. 

Michael started inside. He'd pretty much given up the hope that this day
would ever come. But he was standing on board the ship. He reached out
and lightly ran his fingers across the closest wall. 

Then he crumpled to his knees, pain clawing through him. Pain from Max,
stronger than anything he'd ever felt. 

"Sheriff Valenti, are you all right?" a guard shouted. 

Footsteps rushed toward him as another slash of pain hit. He felt his
face... moving. Twisting. He couldn't hold on to the changes he'd made
in his molecular structure. 

A guard grabbed Michael by the shoulder -- and saw his face. His face.
Not Valenti's. 

*** 

"Something's up," Alex told Maria. 

Valenti had just burst out of his house. He strode over to his cruiser,
his face set and grim. This was not a man on his way to the grocery
store. 

"What are we going to do?" Maria demanded, her voice high and shrill. 

"Follow him," Alex answered. 

Maybe he found out that his girlfriend was cheating on him, Alex thought
as he waited for the cruiser to pass their stakeout spot. Or that Kyle
had been busted for smoking a joint behind the school. 

Not likely. It would be a pretty big coincidence for either of those
things to happen right during the few hours when Michael, Isabel, and
Ray were breaking into the compound. 

"Go!" Maria cried. "You're going to lose him." 

"Let me do this," Alex snapped. "I don't want him to notice us." He
waited a few more seconds to let another car get between him and
Valenti, then pulled out onto the street. 

Valenti headed straight to the main road out of town. And yeah, he
passed the grocery store. 

"He's heading out of town! He's going to the compound! You said you
would stop him! Why aren't you stopping him?" Maria shouted. 

"I want to wait until we get a little ways into the desert," Alex
answered. "It's too dangerous in town. I don't want to accidentally
cream someone." 

"Okay, okay. Okay, sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to yell. I just -- "

"I know," Alex answered. "Me too." 

Alex kept his eyes locked on Valenti as they reached the edge of town.
Not that he had any doubt where Valenti was heading. 

"Okay, I'm going to pull up next to him. You yell ... something. That
there's been a robbery or whatever. Any sheriff thing you can think of.
Maybe that will be enough to make him turn back. Project Clean Slate is
a secret. Valenti has to give at least an impersonation of a regular
sheriff." 

Maria nodded. "Ready when you are." 

Alex hit the gas and pulled up even with Valenti. Maria leaned out the
window. "The 7-Eleven was robbed," she yelled. "The owner was shot. You
have to get back there." 

Maria ducked back inside. "He didn't even turn his head. He had to see
me, don't you think?" 

"Yeah," Alex answered. "Time for plan B." 

"Which is?" Maria demanded. 

"I don't know exactly. But you better roll up the window and buckle your
seat belt just in case," he told her. 

As soon as Maria was strapped in, Alex jerked the wheel to the right.
Metal screamed against metal as his Rabbit gave the cruiser a hard
shove. 

They definitely had Valenti's attention now. And he wasn't happy. He
gave the Rabbit a sideways slam that sent it into a half turn across the
lane. 

Alex expected Valenti to take the opportunity to put some distance
between their cars. But that wasn't his style. With a squeal of tires he
jerked his cruiser around so that it was aimed at the Rabbit. 

"Hold on, he's going to ram us!" Alex warned Maria. 

A second later the cruiser bulldozed into the back of the Rabbit,
slamming it out onto the desert. Valenti backed up, preparing for
another slam. Alex saw him doing it. But he couldn't get out of the way
in time. And there was no chance he could somehow circle to the side of
Valenti and start ramming him. 

Alex braced himself against the wheel as the cruiser took its second
shot. 

"The arroyo! He's pushing us toward the arroyo!" Maria cried as Valenti
backed up again. 

The narrow canyon wasn't that deep. But it wasn't going to be a fun
landing. And once they were down there, there was no way they'd be able
to stop Valenti. 

Alex spat out a curse as he jerked the wheel to the left and floored the
gas. Too late. The cruiser smashed into them again. 

And the Rabbit sailed over the edge of the arroyo. 

*** 

The pain sweeping through Isabel subsided. What did that mean? Now that
she couldn't feel pain from Max, did that mean... did that mean he was
dead? 

Get the crystals, she told herself. That's all you can think about right
now. She rushed down the ship's narrow walkway, her feet making a
grating sound on the metal mesh of the floor. 

Ray said the crystals were kept in one of the slots under the control
panel. But where was the control panel? And where were Ray and Michael? 

She couldn't risk going back to look for them. If she was the only one
who'd made it onto the ship, she was Max's only hope. 

She wished she had a map of the ship's interior. It was a lot bigger
than she thought it was. It was as if the ship was larger inside than
out, the walkways branching off in all directions. She wasn't sure she
was even on the right one. She could be rushing completely the wrong
way. She'd only picked this walkway because it looked slightly wider
than the others. 

Isabel's walkway widened and widened until it formed a large room with
huge windows. She couldn't see anything out of them. She didn't know if
it was some kind of cloaking mechanism or what. And she didn't care. She
didn't see any controls of any kind, so she was obviously in the wrong
place. 

Two more walkways branched off the observation room. They looked pretty
much identical. Isabel chose the closest one. She ran down it with her
head ducked. It got wider and wider until it opened into a room that had
something Isabel figured could be a control panel. Thank God. 

Now where were those slots Ray mentioned? She didn't see anything that
could be called a slot or a hole or a cubby or anything. She dashed Over
and slid her fingers over the smooth metal beneath the controls. She
felt a little raised spot and hit it. A slot opened up. No crystals. 

Isabel heard footsteps approaching. "Finally," she called. "I can use
some help in here." She felt for another raised spot, then jammed it so
hard, she broke a nail. 

She started searching for another spot. Then she realized the footsteps
were getting closer, but no one had answered her. Isabel felt the hairs
at the back of her neck stand up. That meant that whoever was moving
toward her wasn't Ray or Michael. 

Oh, that was very smart, just announcing your exact location, Isabel
thought. She slid both hands over the metal, searching for the next
trigger. Found one. Hit it. No crystals. 

The footsteps were very close now. Isabel swept her hands back and
forth, leaving smears of sweat behind. She found another trigger spot.
Punched it. And saw three crystals glowing softly in the dim light. She
snatched them up and jammed them in her pockets. 

"Hold it right there. Put your hands over your head," a voice commanded.

Isabel put her hands up and slowly turned. A guard stood blocking the
center walkway. A guard with a machine gun over his chest. 

Her eyes darted to the other two walkways. Could she make it to one of
them in time? Or was that just a good way to get herself shot in the
back? 

"Get over here. And don't lower your hands, or I will shoot you," the
guard ordered. 

Isabel walked toward him. She was going to have to knock him out, and
that meant touching him so she could make a connection. 

She wondered how fast his reflexes were. Could he realize he was in
danger and pull the trigger faster than she could find a nice vein in
his head and squeeze? 

At least she had her fake face back in place. Even better, the face was
pretty. Not quite as pretty as her own, but still plenty pretty. That
gave her a little advantage. Guys didn't tend to think of pretty girls
as potentially lethal. Plus it made for a good distraction. 

A couple more steps and she'd be close enough to reach him. Isabel made
her bottom lip tremble a little, a trick she'd learned in the fourth
grade. She hoped he'd think she was completely scared and helpless. 

Isabel took a step, then another. Okay, hope this works, she thought.
Because if it doesn't, one of us is leaving the compound in a body bag. 

She took one more step, then pretended to stumble. She let herself fall,
arms outstretched. The guard instinctively moved to catch her. His hand
touched hers, and she willed herself to make the connection. 

The rush of images began. Isabel let them rush oast her in a. blur of
color. She heard the guard's heart begin to beat along with her own.
Quickly she began to explore his body. Their body. 

She chose a vein deep in his head and used her mind to squeeze the
molecules together. She felt his pain and bewilderment, but she didn't
let go. Not until he fell to the floor. 

Isabel leaped over him and ran down the walkway to the observation room.
She picked the widest walkway that branched off the room and sprinted
down it. 

She came to an abrupt halt when she reached the exit door. She could
hear a fight going on. She took a step closer and leaned partway out.
Her heart stopped, then gave a hard double slam in her chest. 

Michael and Ray were battling against five guards. The guards had some
kind of electrical stunners, like cattle prods. They were using them to
keep Michael and Ray from touching them. There was one guard lying
motionless on the ground. The others probably saw that Michael and Ray
could hurt with a touch and were making very sure that neither of them
got close enough to do any damage. 

She hesitated, bouncing her weight from one foot to the other. Should
she just make a run for it? That was probably her best chance of
escaping. If she tried to help Michael and Ray, she might not get to Max
in time. And Michael and Ray had each other for backup. 

Yeah, she decided. She'd have to go without them. Isabel locked her eyes
on the big metal doors leading out of the room. Then she ran full out. 

She didn't know if the guards even saw her fly by. If they had, they
weren't chasing her. Not yet. She wheeled around a corner and froze. 

Sheriff Valenti was halfway down the cement hall, gun drawn. His cold
gray eyes locked on her. 

This was the moment Isabel had been fearing all her life. The moment the
wolf came and dragged her off to his cave. One thing was clear -- she
would not let him take her alive. 

"I don't want to shoot you. So be sensible. Don't try anything silly,"
Valenti said. 

Of course he didn't want to shoot her. She was much more valuable to him
alive. But the only way she was going to let him have her was dead. 

Don't be insane, a little voice in her head pleaded. Let him take you.
Michael and Ray will come after you. You know that. There's no way
Michael would let Valenti keep you here. 

But Michael could die. Ray could die. And Isabel would be left at
Valenti's mercy. 

That thought decided her. Isabel let out a roar of rage and terror and
launched herself at Valenti. 

"Stop," he shouted. "Now!" 

"Stop!" another voice yelled. A hand reached out and grabbed her by the
back of the shirt. Isabel jerked her head to face her captor. Ray. 

"Don't shoot. We're stopping. We're stopping right here," Ray told
Valenti. 

Ray was going to let Valenti take her. Examine her. Experiment on her.
And finally dissect her. 

No! Isabel jerked away and leaped toward the sheriff. 

Ray flung himself in front of her. A shot rang out. And Ray fell to the
ground, the green and blue whorls of his aura instantly turning black. 

Oh God. Oh no. Ray was dead. 

Isabel didn't want to leave him. Didn't want Valenti to have his poor,
defenseless body. But Ray was dead. And Max was still alive. 

She didn't hesitate more than a quarter of a second. She raced past
Valenti and hurled herself around the next corner. She spotted another
set of the metal doors. She dashed through them, then used her power to
shove the molecules together, slamming the doors shut. 

That's not enough, she thought. Valenti would have no problem getting
through that door, with a couple of guards to back him up. 

Isabel yearned to run for her life and Max's. But she forced herself to
stand still. She kept her focus on the molecules, making them move
faster and faster until the metal doors got so hot, they began to melt.
Then she allowed the molecules to slow. The doors cooled, but now they
were sealed together. 

Michael would be able to open them, if and when he got there. But anyone
else would need at least a blowtorch. 

That's right, Isabel told herself. Now you're thinking. And that's how
you're going to get out of here. 

She leaned against the wall and pressed her hands against her face. She
felt the skin and bone move under her fingers as she changed her
appearance to match that of the guard she knocked out. 

Then she calmly made her way to the parking garage, got in the rental
car, and took the elevator up. A few minutes later she was speeding
through the desert. 

"Hang on a little longer, Max," she whispered. "I'm almost there." 

*** 

"Max, you've got to hang on," Liz cried. "Michael, Isabel, and Ray are
going to be back here with the crystals any second." 

"Yeah, Max," Alex added, only the slight tremor in his voice signaling
what a wreck he actually was. "You can't check out now. You owe me a new
car. One with air bags. Those babies are the only reason Maria and I are
here talking to you." 

Max opened his lips, but the only sound that came out was a wet
clicking. 

Is that what people call a death rattle? Liz thought wildly. No, he was
still breathing. Shallow, ragged breaths that were painful to watch. And
to hear. 

"Should we help him sit up?" Maria asked. "Do you think that would help
him breathe?" 

Liz didn't know what to do. Should they be calling an ambulance? The
paramedics could at least give him oxygen or something. But they'd take
him to the hospital, and then if Michael, Isabel, and Ray showed up with
the crystals, Max wouldn't be here. 

And Max would die without the crystals, in the hospital or out of it. 

"Liz," Max croaked out. 

"I'm here," she told him. "Don't try to talk. Save your strength." 

"Love... you." His eyelids fluttered shut. 

"No!" Liz shouted. She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. His
head flopped back and forth. "No, Max. Please, no." 

"Is he?" Maria exclaimed, backing away from the bed. 

"Check his pulse," Alex ordered. "Maybe he's just unconscious." 

He was right. She didn't know for sure. She didn't hear the horrible,
ragged breaths, but maybe. Maybe. 

She pressed her fingers against the side of his neck. But her hands were
shaking, and her own heartbeat was pounding in her ears. She couldn't
tell. 

"Max. Come on. I'm not letting you leave me," she cried. She reached out
and gently slid up one of his eyelids. She thought she saw his pupil
contract a little. 

"I don't think... I think he's still with us," Liz exclaimed. 

"Max, don't go into the light," Alex yelled. 

Joking as usual. But Liz could hear the raw emotion in his voice. 

"Max, we need you," Maria called. "You can't go yet." 

Liz heard the squeal of tires outside the house. A second later the
front door banged open. 

"They're here! Did you hear that? They're back!" She checked his pupils
again. This time there was no response. Liz felt as if her body had
turned to seawater, heavy and cold. 

"I've got them!" Isabel shouted as she exploded into the room. 

"I... think it might be too late," Liz answered. She pressed her hand to
Max's chest. She couldn't feel his heart beating. 

"Try it, anyway," Alex demanded. 

Isabel pulled the crystals out of her pockets and placed them in her
brother's hand. She curled his fingers, tight around them, keeping them
closed with her own. 

"You've got to connect to the consciousness, Max," Isabel told him. 

"Please, Max," Liz begged. "You can't die on me now that you finally
agreed we don't have to be just friends anymore." 

Without realizing it, the entire crew had huddled together at Max's
bedside to support him. Maria felt Isabel's hand on her shoulder and
looked up. Isabel's face was drained. 

"Don't worry, Izzy. Max is gonna make it," Maria whispered. "You brought
the crystals... and now he's gonna be all right." 

Isabel looked straight at Maria, her eyes wide, and exhaled. 

"I hope you're right. Because Valenti's got Michael," she said.