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Title: Lethal Whispers
Author: Max and Liz believer, a.k.a. Josephin Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the Roswell characters. I’m just borrowing them for a short while. Category: M/L, AU Rating: MATURE Summary: Elizabeth Parker was special. Strange things had happened to her during her childhood, but she had repressed them all to a state of denial. It was all safely tucked away until someday something happened, and she found herself in deep danger...
More than that I can’t reveal. Author’s note: This fic is based on a challenge by Dia. There are some aspects in the challenge that I need to fulfill – but otherwise I have no clue myself to where this fic will end up, as with all of my other fics. But one thing I’m very clear about – feedback! It’s what keeps my fingers typing.
p. 1) Prologue, chapters 1-9
p. 2) Chapters 10-19
p. 3) Chapter 20-29
p. 4) Chapter 30-38
p. 5) Interlude II-Chapter 43
p. 6) Chapter 43-48
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Prologue
The rain was pouring down. The sky was black – the clouds heavy with raindrops. The clouds had finally found their relief, drowning the scenery below in water. The water was streaming down the streets, creating runnels that carried traces of nature. Leaves, dirt, twigs, dead bugs. An immense amount of insects took their last breath that day. The heavy raindrops fell on their wings, immobilizing their movements. The clattering of the rain was the only sound to be heard in the darkness of the night. The wind was still, having withdrawn from the forceful downfall of the rain. The light from the lanterns lining the streets glowed faintly – its light doing little to penetrate the heavy darkness. The light inside the houses looked warm and comforting – in straight contrast to the hostile environment outside. The inhabitants of the houses stayed inside. Inside the buildings there was life. Inside the houses, the outside could be ignored – forgotten.
Through the mist a stubby figure appeared. The worn shoes were repeatedly lowered into the cold water, as the figure made its way in a hurried manner down the desolated streets. Its movements were hasty, as if competing against the hands of time. The figure came to halt in front of one of the houses. The balmy light shone in the windows. It was the right place. It radiated with love. However, the inhabitants of that special house had a deep longing for something. One thing that would make their lives complete.
The figure hunched in the rain, and pulled off the cloth that had hindered the rain from reaching the surface of the skin. In the hook of the figure’s arm, laid a small bundle. The bundle was now lowered to the doorstep to that special house. The house that had been chosen. The cloth was spread over the bundle, to prevent the menacing rain from reaching the precious bundle. With a hard knock on the door, the figure vanished into the night.
Last edited by max and liz believer on Wed Feb 15, 2006 5:38 am, edited 102 times in total.
Changes is hanging in the air – danger is creeping closer. Be aware.
She stood staring out through the window. The rain was pelting down. Would it ever cease? It had been raining for days. She didn’t like rain. Many considered it to be a relief. Something that brought a change, that washed away everything old. She didn’t like changes. She liked things to stay the way they were. To her, rain meant a gray sky. It meant sadness. It meant lack of color – of everything that made a day bright. Rain always made her senses run overdrive. There were smells all around her. Smells that normally went her unnoticed, but which during rainy days burned the inside of her nostrils. The sounds were louder. The buzzing of a mosquito could drive her nuts – its buzzing growing to something similar to the sound of a helicopter. She followed the drops as they run down the window pane, and for not the first time she wonder why she still lived in New York City. There was too much rain in New York. She should live in a place where drought had the leading role. She would thrive there. But something made her stay in New York.
She took a deep breath, and pulled up the umbrella – preparing herself for going outside. She really didn’t want to. It felt like the rain was mugging her. It didn’t like her – and the feelings were mutual. She opened the door and the moist cold air hit her in the face. She pushed away her feelings of distress. It was only rain, for Christ’s sake! She tried to smile at her own stupidity – but she couldn’t quite shake her feelings of unease. Something was wrong today, and it wasn’t just due to the rain. She started walking down the street. It was dark. The hands of her watch informed her that it was after eleven p.m. She really shouldn’t be out at this hour. Not alone, not in NYC, not in the rain. She pulled the raincoat closer around her body, and her pace automatically quickened. She was not too far away from her apartment. She would soon be home. Home. Where she could light candles and make herself some tea. Then she could curl up under a blanket and read a book. She loved books. They presented her with an opportunity to flee to another world. An imaginary world. She could become the characters of the book – she could live their lives. They were her, she was them. It was her escape – her haven.
With her thoughts deep in a place where love was eternal, soulmates existed, and the harsh terrible reality didn’t – she failed to notice the dark figure that was slowly following behind her. His movements were graceful – like the movements of a cat. He stayed in the shadows, effectively hiding himself from her line of vision. However, that was not necessary. Her mind was already in some other place, and she barely registered what was going on around her. She momentarily jumped out of her reveries as thunder ripped through the silence. Shortly thereafter, lightning illuminated the street. But it also ripped her follower from his disguise, and she quickly turned her head towards what she had seen from the corner of her eye. But the lightning was over, and the figure had disappeared into the darkness. An icy chill ran down her spine, and she shivered. While her eyes nervously darted around her surroundings, she quickened her pace some more – turning into half running. She wanted home. She wanted to be home now. She silently cursed herself for going out tonight. She shouldn’t have stayed so long at her work. She shouldn’t have worked late. She should have bought a car, so that she didn’t have to walk. If she made it home alive – without any incidents – she was never, never going to do the same mistake again. No, not if she made it home – when. She was being ridiculous. She always became antsy when it rained – and her mind was playing tricks on her. She had probably just seen a cat, or it had just been a shadow. There wasn’t anyone following her. But still she couldn’t stop her mind from making up all the things that could happen to a young woman in the middle of the night in a big city as New York. She could get robbed, she could get raped – she could even get killed.
No! Stop it! She tried to shake off the thoughts, and turned left into a nearby alley. One small part of her mind – the part that was not yet paralyzed with fear and panic – tried to tell her that it was never a good idea to take short-cuts through dark and desolate alleys in the middle of the night. But she was too agitated to notice. She wanted to get home, and the way through the alley was the closest way. That’s when she thought she heard footsteps behind her and she turned around. Her eyes quickly darted over the empty alley. She was alone. Her breathing was raspy, her heart was slamming against her ribs. This wasn’t happening. It was all just an evil dream. It was just her imagination. She took two quick breaths, before she turned around again to continue her walk home.
Before she could react, she was trapped. Strange hands were on her face – covering her mouth and eyes. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t speak. She could only whimper as she felt herself being dragged along the alley. She could not move – her captor was too strong. She felt his hot breath against her cheek and then she heard his voice.
“Don’t say anything.” But the voice wasn’t menacing or hostile as she had anticipated it to be. It was soft and low. If her heart hadn’t been slamming in her chest – if she hadn’t tasted bile in her throat, she would have been calmed by that voice. But she wasn’t. She was scared to death, and her survival instinct had kicked in. She kicked her leg backwards – connecting with the small of his leg. She heard him inhale sharply, but his grip on her didn’t lessen.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I need you to listen to me.”
She was still struggling – trying to escape him. She wasn’t going to get raped without a fight – she wasn’t going to die without a struggle. This was her life and she wanted to be able to decide over it for herself. She had always liked being in control. Now she found herself trapped in a uncontrollable state – and she hated it. It made her weak, and she didn’t like being weak.
“If I remove my hands, will you promise not to scream?” the voice asked.
Like hell she would! She would take first best shot to run away from him, and then she would start screaming. The whole world would be able to hear her scream. He would be too afraid to risk exposure to go after her, and she would be free.
She nodded.
“Thank you,” he said and slowly removed his hands. She was quickly out of his arms as soon as his grip on her lessened and she started running, without looking back. Somehow she lost control over her feet, and she tumbled to the ground - having nothing to support her fall. She landed hard - her chest slamming into the hard ground. She felt his arms on her - trying to lift her from the ground. She made her body limb - making herself heavy and difficult to move. She had her eyes close. She didn’t want to see him. If she ever made it out of this alive, she didn’t want a face to haunt her dreams and her thoughts for the rest of her life. Her mind told her that it was stupid not to look at his face, because she wouldn’t be able to describe him to the police. But she wasn’t like other people, and she was still looking for some sort of control to hang on to in order to not completely lost sight of what was happening. If she could at least control her eyes, she wasn’t as weak as her perpetrator wanted her to be.
”What do you want?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
”I’m not here to hurt you,” he said again. She frowned. Was that regret she heard in his voice? Her senses were still running overdrive, and with her eyes closed she could more thoroughly focus on his voice. She could interpret all the different keys of his voice - every different note.
”You already have,” she said. ”Please let me go.”
She hated to beg. But she also wanted to live.
”I’m here to warn you,” he said.
The thudding of her heart that was thundering in her ears somewhat decreased in intensity and volume.
”What?” she asked, confusion now mixed with her fear.
”Something bad is going to happen to you.”
Was he threatening her? She couldn’t tell. His words told him that he was threatening her, but his voice was sad - strained. She was starting to doubt that this was a regular rapist or robber.
”What is going to happen to me?” she asked. She was a little surprised that she still could get her mind to form a coherent thought, even more that she was able to voice it.
”I don’t know,” he said, and once again he sounded regretful...or guilty.
”Okay...” she said, still clutching her eyes close. Her body had started to relax, the feelings of unease had started to leave her. Instead she had started to wonder if she was going insane. If this really was just a dream. Perhaps she was really trapped in a mental hospital and this was just one of her make up realities. Soon there would probably land a space ship in front of her, and the man in front of her - holding her in an iron grip - would be beamed up into the spaceship. Pink bunnies would probably start dancing around her soon. She plummeted back down into the rainy, gray reality at the sound of his voice.
”I only know that something is about to happen to you. I had to warn you. You better get home. I saw it happen outside - you’ll be safe inside. Go home.”
Okay, this was really weird. She slowly opened her eyes and focused her sight on the man in front of her. He was dark as the darkness around him. His hair was black, his skin was gray, his clothes were dark. If it wasn’t for his eyes, he would have made a perfect robber. But it was the eyes that defined him. It was the eyes that revealed the true him. She found herself being almost hypnotized by those eyes, as she tried to read him. However, at the same time as his eyes were the most readable feature on his face - they didn’t tell her anything. They did, nevertheless, give her a sense of calmness. A sense of rightness.
His seemed uncomfortable by her stare and she could feel the grip of his hands on her arms lessen. Her mind and body reacted like a prisoner being released from a repressed captivity. She quickly pulled herself out of his grip and got her legs moving. She ran down the alley, expecting to feel his hands on her back any time. But then she was standing in front of the door to the stair well of her apartment complex - her breathing labored and her clothes soaked, clinging to her body. With fear still an evident and decisive part of her body and movements she slowly turned around and eyed the street behind her. There was no one there. She was alone, and she was home.
TBC...?
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Okay guys. Tell me what you think. Did you like it, hate it? Do you want me to continue? [angel]
Elizabeth Parker was beautiful. In every sense of the word. She had dark hair, waving down her back to her waist. Her skin was rich with color and life, her body petite yet graceful. She had big eyes - deep brown - that held a depth which had bewitched many. She was aware of her beauty, but she didn’t let it rule her life. She was brought up in a loving home as an only child. Her parents loved her, cherished her and adored her. They saw her as a blessing, a gift sent from God. Even though she had been loved, she had not been spoiled. She was raised in a simple home, where money was not a certainty. Ever since she had been old enough to understand, she had been taught to be humble and modest. Her mother taught her to be grateful for every small thing in life. Her mother also taught her to always try to see the good in people. Every person had something good inside of her. Some had buried it deep under thousands of layers - others displayed it at the surface. She had grown up in a protective environment. Yet she had been taught independence. She was a quiet child. A child of few words, but countless thoughts. She easily gained people’s respect. They took one look in her eyes and they knew that they could trust her, that she wasn’t going to do them any harm. The beauty on her inside was openly displayed through her eyes for people to take a part in.
As she had grown up, she lacked the experience of having a close friend. A best friend. Someone to share all thoughts with, all secrets. Someone to laugh with, cry with and gossip with. She was an unusual child, and she grew into an even more unusual young woman. Children her age did neither tease her nor make fun of her behind her back. They had a respect for her that they couldn’t explain, that they didn’t even contemplate over why they had it. She was like an untouchable angel. If she was touched, her purity would be defiled. She quietly existed in the outer fringes of the world, her presence merely a flutter in many lives. As she left the childhood behind her, boys started to turn their heads after her. They were spellbound by her unapproachable stance, and her modesty. She carried her head high, but simultaneously she appeared humble to the world. As she entered the teenage years, the people around her changed and along with that their opinions of her changed. She was no longer treated with the same quiet respect and acceptance. The boys competed in being the one to take away her purity. Simultaneously, the girls started to talk behind her back. Jealousy towards her beauty and her enchantment with the boys thrived and nourished cruel behavior.
Her teens became a difficult time. She still was just as any other teenager. She still had confusing thoughts about herself and her identity - just like everyone else. Her body was going through changes. But she was alone. She didn’t have anyone to talk to. The girls were turning their back on her and the boys just wanted her because she was different from the other girls, and she was therefore considered to be a conquest. She knew that she was different. And she hated it.
***
She slowly drifted out from the mist of sleep. The beams of the morning sun was tickling her eye-lids, and she couldn’t help but smile. She carefully opened her eyes, and let her heart fill with the warmth and relief the sun gave her. It had stopped raining. She lazily rolled over onto her back and yawned as she stretched out her stiff limbs. She just laid there for a while and watched the reflections created by the sun dance over the ceiling. She took a deep breath and rose into a sitting position. She had to get up. It was a new day, and she had to get to work. She swung her bare legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. The floor was cold against her bare feet, but that didn’t matter to her. As long as the sun was shining nothing could destroy her good mood. She walked into the kitchen and poured some water into a small pan to make herself some tea. She walked to the front door to retrieve the morning newspaper, and went back into the kitchen and took out some candles that she placed on the kitchen table. She put the newspaper in the middle and positioned the candles around it. She took a box of matches and lit all the candles.
She never actually read the newspaper. She couldn’t bare to read about all the misery in the world. Instead, every day, she lighted a couple of candles and held two minutes of silence about everything that was terrible in the world. That was her way of dealing with the harsh reality. That was how she got some peace of mind to her battered soul. She would gladly take away everything that was cruel and evil from the world with one click of her fingers, but she couldn’t. So she gave it two minutes of peace instead – to a world where there was war not only between countries or individuals, but inside of the individuals.
Her mind relaxed to a meditative state, and after approximately two minutes had passed, she took one deep cleansing breath and opened her eyes. She blew out the candles and put the newspaper away. She poured the now boiling water into a cup and prepared her tea. It was a new day. The sun was shining, and the darkness, which the night before had brought her, was now a distant memory. But memory is a treacherous thing, and if we don’t pay attention it fights back.
***
”Liz, I like you to meet David Anderson,” Mr. Smith introduced.
Mr. Stephen Smith was Liz’s boss, and she had great respect for him. He was an honorable and righteous man. He acknowledged Liz - not for her exterior - but for her intelligence and warmth.
Liz smiled and took David Anderson’s hand and shook it.
”Nice to meet you, Mr. Anderson,” she said.
”My pleasure,” Mr. Anderson said. ”And please, call me David.”
Liz nodded.
”Okay...David,” she said.
David Anderson radiated with strong demeanor. Confidence was coming off him in waves, and to most people that kind of confidence was threatening. Some saw it as competition that needed to be destroyed, others saw it as something to admire and copy, and some - people like Liz Parker - didn’t react much to it, but treated its host as an equal. Mr. Anderson was tall, with a prominent Nordic appearance. His hair was short and light blond. His eyes were blue - like the blue of a winter lake. They were almost icing cold - but they were sparkling with life. His eyes were a trait that had made several women fall to their knees. He had countless number of broken heart in his past. His charm had enchanted many, but even more had withered under his spell.
”David is going to be our newest addition to our ‘crew’,” Mr. Smith said.
”Really,” Liz said with interest, and arched an eye-brow at the young man.
”I hope I will be working with this beautiful woman,” David complimented, a charming smile grazing his features. Liz blushed, and lowered her head slightly. Many men had complimented her on her beauty, but she still couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with the recognition.
”I’m sure you will be spending some time together,” Mr. Smith said.
David watched the young woman in front of her. She was exquisite. He instantly knew that he had to conquer her. It would not just be another woman, it would be a personal victory - a personal accomplishment. The woman seemed unattainable, but that only made her more attractive and desirable.
***
The images were coming fast. They were infesting his mind - devouring him. There was screaming, pain, and blood. There was fear and panic. It was inevitable. He bolted upwards in his bed, his breathing labored, pearls of sweat trickling down his forehead. He had warned her. He had warned her. Why did he still get the images?
***
“Liz!”
“Yeah?”
Mr. Smith poked his head through the door-frame.
“I’m leaving now. Are you sure you don’t want a ride home?”
Liz smiled and shook her head.
“Yes, I’m sure. But thank you. I’m just gonna call for a cab.”
Mr. Smith looked at her with a thoughtful expression for a second, then he shook his head in disbelief.
“Okay, Liz. Just don’t stay too long. You will not be any good to us if you work yourself to death, you know!” His tone was reproachful but light.
“I’m soon finished,” Liz assured.
Mr. Smith gave her a warm smile, and then nodded.
“You lock up the place, all right?”
“Of course,” Liz said.
She listened to the sound of his retreating footsteps as it gradually diminished into complete silence as the soft thud of the closing of the door announced that she was alone. She took a deep breath and returned her focus on the documents in front of her. She had a lot to do, and amazingly enough she always found herself racing against time.
***
Liz was anxiously looking at the taximeter in the front of the cab as its numbers were slowly increasing, and she was gradually feeling the money in her purse decreasing. She cursed herself for not bringing more money. She never had much money on her. She was not a great spender, and she never shopped impulsively. Everything was well-planned. She always had a plan. Except for today. She hadn’t planned that she would be taking a cab home. She hadn’t planned on working late today again. But she had. And she hadn’t realized her lack of means of payment until after she had refuted the ride that was offered her. She sighed, and then leaned forward in the back seat.
“Excuse me,” she said.
The driver kept driving, only giving her a quick glance over his shoulder.
“Yes?”
“You can stop here,” Liz told him.
“Eh..okay,” the taxi driver said and pressed the brakes. The car came to a halt and Liz pulled out the money necessary to pay for the drive from her purse. She handed the driver the money, and stepped out.
The second she stepped outside, and she watched the cab drive away in the night, the air around her seemed to grow colder. The same air that had been filled with a pleasant warmth this morning. But the sun was gone, and with the taxi driver, so was her only link to humanity. She pulled her coat closer around her body and started walking down the street. At least it wasn’t raining.
***
No. He would be too late. He could feel it. His bones were itching, his head was thudding. He was going to be too late. He quickened his pace, trying his best to locate her presence.
***
No. She turned her head forward again. It was all in her mind. All in her mind. She could hear the wind bristling through the tree crowns that hovered over her head – casting their dark and thick shadows over her. But there it was again. She could hear the cars in the distance, but she was walking in a desolate street – strictly following the pavement. The pavement was her sense of direction. The pavement was solid – something to be trusted. It would not suddenly crumble into dust under her feet. (She heard the sound again and turned her head) Would it?
She could see her apartment now. She could see the familiar lantern outside. The same lantern that she could see if she looked out her bedroom window. But then she couldn’t see it any longer. She lost sight of it. Everything went dark....and silent. The silence around her was so deafening that she could hear her own heart beat. She could even here the blood flushing through her veins, trying to nourish her brain so that she wouldn’t pass out. She wasn’t alone any longer.
He could feel her strongly now. She was closer. But there was another presence there as well. She wasn’t alone any longer. He hurried down the street – hoping that he wasn’t too late. Hoping that he could defeat destiny – change the course of the future. He rounded the corner and he saw her. And him. She was laying on the ground. Her perpetrator was on top of her.
-----------------------------------------.
She felt like she had been lowered into a bowl of cotton. Every sound was muffled, every feeling was subdued. Her movements were slow. Agonizingly slow. The paths connecting her brain to the rest of her body were cut off. Disabled. The ripping sound as her shirt was torn apart felt like thousands of needles pressed into her ear drum, and then suddenly she could hear everything very clearly. She felt cold hands on her stomach. She felt the same strange and tarnished hands move to her breasts. She closed her eyes and tried to breath. But her lungs weren’t co-operating with her any longer. Her body had started its escape from the man in the only way it could – by fleeing from her.
With a gasp the air flowed into her, and she opened her eyes to look up at the starry night sky. Her shirt was open, her stomach naked and vulnerable in the cold night air. She turned her head and saw the man that had laid plastered on top of her only a few moments ago, laying in a tranquil heap of limbs on the ground against the brick wall of one of the houses. She turned her head back and found herself staring right into a pair of dark eyes. She inhaled sharply – the fear and panic still an evident and vital part of her body.
“Wh-what...” she breathed. She didn’t even recognize her own voice any longer. Was this her? Was she really here? She felt weird. It was an experience similar to floating. She was trapped in her eyes, but she wasn’t suffering. Reassurance and calmness seemed to seep into her – filling her every cell, exploding through her every nerve. And then he was gone – just as quickly as he had appeared. She quickly got her body working and rose up on her shaky legs.
“No! Wait! I want to talk to you!” she cried and somehow she found the strength to run after him. But nature had planned it in another way. She was pretty small, and her legs were short. When all she wanted was to disappear in the crowd – to hide away from the harsh reality – it was a good length. Then it worked in her favor. But not now.
She stopped and stared down the street. It was empty. All she could see was a homeless woman dressed in worn clothes, pushing an old and well-used cart in front of her further down the street. No signs of her savior. Her heart was still beating hard against her ribs – making her chest ache. Her breathing was erratic, the air burning the inside of her throat. Still staring down the street, she took a deep breath and tried to calm her body down. She had always had great control over her body. Generally, she possessed a lot of self-control. But this had frightened her to the bones. She turned her head to once again look at the still body of her attacker laying on the ground. She walked back to him, and stared at him. He seemed to be of middle age. His hair was blonde – almost white – the hair roots dark, indicating the artificiality of the hair color. She bent down and picked up her purse, and with one hand clutching her coat together she started to walk towards her apartment and the false security it could provide her with. Her mind was already in the process of repressing the event.
---------------------------------------.
Liz slowly pushed up the lid, revealing its treasures of the white and black pieces of wood. She held her breath as slowly brushed her fingers against the sleek surface. Those pieces of woods – coated with white and black cover – together with some strings, were able to create the most beautiful of sounds. As her fingers gently brushed up and down the surface, and with her eyes closed, she could hear the music inside of her head. Flowing through her, creating sweet and utter harmony.
RIIIINNNG!!
She jerked out of her thoughts so violently that she almost knock the lid. She was inches away from getting the lid slammed down on top of her fingers. She sighed and moved to the telephone. She’d never liked telephones. They were so impersonal. You couldn’t see the person you were talking to. Sure – you could hear the person’s voice, but that wasn’t the same thing. A voice without its appurtenant facial expression was misleading – and could be misinterpreted.
She picked up the receiver, silencing the telephone of its shrill cry.
“Hello?” she said.
“Pumpkin? It’s daddy.”
“Oh, hi daddy.” She was happy to hear his voice. His voice could always calm her down. To her, her father was security embodied. He was the stability in her life...just like her mother had been.
“How are you, honey? You’re not working too hard I hope.”
“Me? Working too hard?” Liz asked in mock innocence. But her father’s voice was serious as he spoke.
“Lizzie. I don’t want a recurrence of what happened last time.”
“Dad,” Liz said, her voice firm. “I’m not working too hard, okay.”
There was a pause. A pause filled with doubt, but also the fear of losing the last part of his family...and then her father answered.
”Okay, honey. I’m just worried, that’s all.”
Liz smiled, feeling a little guilty.
“I know, daddy. I know.”
“So, has anything special happened?”
Well, she had been assailed twice – once by a mysterious stranger that apparently didn’t want her no harm, and once by a rapist. The mysterious stranger had saved her from the rapist, and had then run off before she got a chance to thank him. That had happened in the short period of two days.
“No, it’s been pretty quiet around here,” Liz said lightly.
“Quiet? In New York?” her father joked.
“Well...you know what I mean. How are you?” Liz said – effectively steering away from that conversation. She didn’t like this. To lie to her father. She had always stayed honest with her parents. But she also knew that her father would probably die of worry if he knew what had happened. She had to do this on her own. She was on her own.
“Where are you?”
“New York.”
“What?! Are you crazy?!”
“I just...”
“Mom is beside herself with worry! I was scared to death that something had happened to you!”
“I’m sorry, it’s just....”
“What?”
“I had to warn her.”
Sigh.
“Max...you can’t go off somewhere every time you get a vision! We are a group. Everything that you do affects us. You might get hurt, Max. You aren’t even conscious while you’re getting the flashes. What if it happens out in bright day light...what if someone sees you.”
“Iz, don’t worry. I’m only out in the nights.”
Sigh.
“Max. You can’t do this. I know that you want to save everyone that you see in your premonitions, but what about you start to think about those closest to you instead...”
“There’s something about her...”
“Max. Stop it. God! I’m so tired! I’m just so tired.”
“I think there’s more about this girl than there’s been about the others.”
“Max... I can’t do this right now. Please, promise me that you will come home as soon as possible.”
“Iz...”
”Promise me, Max!”
Silence.
“Okay. I’ll check the flights right away.”
“Thank you, Max.”
He was on a mission. The smell tickled his senses, made his feeler waver. There was food close by and he was to get to it. His hairy legs left the wooden surface of the shelf, and he was on the move. His brittle wings were moving so fast that they were perceived as immobile to the human eye. He zoomed in on that smell, and turned gracefully in the air. He landed softly, and the buzzing that he normally surrounded himself with, was reduced as his legs were now the most pertinent means of travel. The ends of his limbs grazed a slippery surface, and he was for a second thrown off his initial destination to investigate what sort of surface he was standing on. A few seconds later he was moving again, leaving the photographic paper behind him.
“Damn fly!!” Mr. Eash exclaimed and waved away the annoying buzzing fly with his hand. He took a deep breath – trying to get the annoyance out of his system – which was easier said than done with the recent development still working as a fresh reminder in his mind. He smacked his hand down on the file in front of him – missing the fly with only a few millimeters.
“Damn,” he murmured as he watch the fly resume its flying and buzzing in his office. He reached out with his hand and picked up the sandwich that was to be his lunch for the day. He took a big bite of the turkey sandwich, while his eyes were diverted back to the file. On top of the sheet a serious male face looked back at him. He had determination in his eyes, and every time Mr. Eash laid his eyes on that picture he couldn’t help but think that he’d never seen a kid look like that. Maybe someone who had been in the Nam or served several years in a top government facility, having to bear thousands of secrets. But never a kid. There was something about that kid that filled him with the deepest sense of unease. And it was not just due to the fact of what his executives thought he was. Even now he snorted every time he thought of it. This kid was not like other kids. No. He did carry a secret. This goddamn boy was an alien. Yeah, that’s right. An alien! He chuckled and leaned back in his arm-chair. But there was something about it that he couldn’t quite shake. There was something about those eyes, and his whole stance that oozed of secrecy. And then there were all of the weird happenings in Roswell, New Mexico that couldn’t be disregarded as coincidences or events of nature.
--------------------------------------------.
The tall blond girl trapped her brother in a big hug.
“I’m so happy that you’re back,” she whispered in his ear – the relief evident in her voice.
He hugged her close to him. It was good to be home, but he still had problems shaking the feelings that something bad was going to happen.
“I’m happy to be back too,” he said as he slowly stepped out of her tight embrace.
Her worried eyes were darting over him – as if checking that he was okay. That it was really him. Then she hit him on the arm.
“Ouch, what was that for?” he asked, rubbing the place on his arm that her hand had whipped.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” she scolded. “You scared me half to death. I thought you were dead!”
“I’m fine....and I’m sorry,” he said gently. He knew that he probably shouldn’t have left the way he did, but he felt that he didn’t have any choice. It was like she was calling for him. To rescue her.
“How are mom and dad?” he asked timidly.
She smirked.
“Well, I was easy on you,” she said. “But your on your own now.”
He sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. He could at least be happy that he at least didn’t live in the same house as his parents anymore, because then they would probably have him grounded.
----------------------------------------------.
“Hey Liz.”
Liz looked up at the man standing in the doorway to her office. She smiled at him.
“Hi David.”
He sauntered in, his eyes never leaving her and positioned himself in the arm-chair across from her desk. She had already turned her attention back to the drawings in front of her. He was somewhat offended by her obvious lack of attention.
“So, Liz...”
She looked up at him, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Yes?” she said, raising one of her eye brows questioning.
“I’m going out to dinner tonight. Would you care to join me?”
Liz looked at him, a smile playing in the corners of her mouth.
“Are you asking me out on a date?” she asked.
“Yes,” he stated simply.
“Aha,” Liz said, and returned her gaze to the drawings on the desk. David’s eyes darkened. Who did she think she was?
Liz looked up again and met his eyes.
“Do you think it’s so wise to date one of your colleagues?”
“I think it’s very wise,” David said, giving her one of his most sparkling smiles and showing off a line of perfect white teeth. “We can talk business if you want...”
“Really?” Liz asked.
Okay, now she was flirting, and David found that extremely sexy. The way her eyes were dancing, and the somewhat seductive smile on her face.
“Really,” David said. He wasn’t used to do this much talking. Often the women turned speechless when he asked them out, and then the rest was easy. Just do it smooth. However, once again he had to admit that he was dealing with something completely else when it came to this Elizabeth Parker. But nothing was impossible, and he was going to have her – even if he had to put in a little more effort than usually.
Liz leaned back in her arm-chair, her eyes fixed on him in a way that started to make him a little nervous. She had the most incredible eyes, but it was as if she could see right through him with those eyes – and that made him a little insecure of himself all of the sudden.
“Actually, I think I have to take a raincheck on that one,” she said as she leaned forward again. As quickly as someone would turn off the lamp, her whole stance and charisma was transformed. She went from a sexy temptress to the formal office-worker, and she seemed once again engrossed in the drawings sprawled out on her desk – totally oblivious to David’s presence.
“I have a lot to do,” she added without looking up, as she started to draw some new lines to her draft.
David had never felt so rejected in his whole life as Elizabeth Parker made him feel right that second. And it made him angry – so angry. Without a word he rose from the arm-chair and strode out of her office.
Max bolted up from his bed. No. It was happening again. He tried to calm down his racing heart by taking deep breaths. She was calling him. She was pulling him towards her, and he couldn’t resist. He couldn’t go back to sleep and pretend that nothing had happened. It would pull inside of him until he did something about it – until he stopped it. If he resisted it would rip him apart. He had no choice. His hand reached out and turned on the lamp on the bedside table, and the soft light spread in his room – trying its best to illuminate the dark corners of his room. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and walked over to his desk. How much money did he have? He had to get to New York City. And he had to get there now....before it was too late.
“I can make her better,” Max stated.
Two sets of eyes stared at him as if he had grown a second head.
“What the hell are you talking about, Maxwell?”
Max leaned across the table and adamantly met his best friend’s hard glare.
“She’s our friend, Michael. We can’t just sit around and do nothing. She’ll die.”
His words were emphasized – the emotion of distress evident in each word.
“Max,” his sister said gently – making him lean backwards in the seat again and instead meet his sister’s eyes. “We can’t expose ourselves like that. And how do we know that it will work? Maybe you can’t heal her anyway. You’ve only healed animals and small cuts this far.”
“I’m willing to take that risk of exposure if it means that I can help her,” Max said determinedly.
Michael slammed his fist in the table, making Isabel jump.
“Damn it, Max!! Do you really want them to find us?! Healing her would be to send out a red flag and wave the FBI over. Here – come and get us! Oh, you want to prod us...hmm, well I guess I would like to have some needles in me, and some people cutting in m-“
“Michael,” Max said, his voice warning, while he worriedly glanced around the restaurant to see if anyone was listening.
“This isn’t your decision to make, Max,” Michael said – his nostrils flaring with the anger that he was unsuccessful in controlling.
“I know, Michael,” Max said, starting to show the same anger. “That’s why I’m talking to you!”
“Okay guys, stop it!” Isabel ordered. “We are in a public restaurant!” She lowered her voice. “We don’t want people to know that we are sitting her discussing if we should heal one of our friends from incurable cancer or not.”
“Wouldn’t you even consider it?” Max asked.
Michael took a deep breath and tried his best to cool off. He frustrated scratched with his hand above his eyebrow. He didn’t want her to die. Hell no! But he was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if someone else knew. Knew their secret. He cared for her too much to have her look at him as a monster, something that made her want to puke. But simultaneously, this was her life they were talking about. Wouldn’t her life count more than his feelings of insecurity. Yeah, right. Those were just some feelings of insecurity! He wouldn’t call it only insecurities when he found himself strapped to a cold metal table, his flesh being penetrated with knives and whatever sharp objects that could be used for the purpose.
“Okay, Maxwell. I’ll think about it,” Michael agreed with a sigh.
“Isabel?” Max asked and turned towards his sister.
She nodded. “Of course I will consider it.”
Max knew what he was asking them for. In the same moment as their jelly-covered bodies had erupted from the husks that had nourished and protected their bodies for forty-seven years, they had known that they had to hide. That they had a secret to hide. It had been instinctual. A matter of survival. That was all they had ever been fully certain about; that they weren’t to display their abilities to anyone. That meant danger. Danger. They didn’t know where they came from, why they were put on this planet. They didn’t know why they had awoken in pods. They didn’t know why they had looked like six-year-olds. They had figured out that they probably were from another planet. Okay, perhaps that sounded preposterous, but as Max had said it the first time - actually voiced what had swirled round in the podsters’ minds for some time - they had all nervously laughed at the idea. Aliens were green – two feet tall – and had no mouth. They had big black eyes, and they talked telepathically. They came to Earth in small spaceships where they went around eating dogs and cats, and zapping every human being that came in their way.
Max was dark-haired, had deep expressive amber eyes, had the deepest compassion for people who suffered, and had a strong loyalty to his sister and his best friend. The only ones except himself that were different. Isabel was tall, had blonde long hair, and brown eyes. She loved cheerleading and hanging out with her friends to gossip and go shopping. Michael had brown hair, and brown eyes. He kept a lot to himself, he was a loner just like Max. He had a fiery temper – but he would sacrifice everything for the two people that mattered more to him than he would ever admit. He covered his heart from external hurt with a tough exterior. They were all living with a constant fear, that were nagging deep inside of them. But there was one pertinent thing that made them all different from the little green men, and similar to the people on this planet. They all looked human. They all had human emotions. They all had human thoughts. The only things that really separated them from humans were the fact that they were able to do some things that other people weren’t, and they had to live like refugees – always looking over their shoulder. They had to live with the constant fear of one day stand face to face with a man dressed in a formal suit pointing a gun at them, and know that would be the end.
Max knew what he asked for. But she was one of their best friends. One of the friends that had taken the odd group to her heart. No questions asked she had taken them to her heart and accepted them. It had filled them with the deepest sense of belonging. But now she was sick. One year ago she had been diagnosed with incurable cancer. There was a tumor eating on her brain. It had started to spread through her neural system – infecting every part of her with its evil. She always suffered from a thudding headache, and sometimes her body would collapse, her mind seeking some sort of haven in a state of unconsciousness. Now she couldn’t move from her bed any longer. The tumor had infested itself in the area of her brain that controlled her faculty of speech, and she couldn’t form one coherent word any longer. Her friends were witnessing how the once sparkling, vibrant girl, who had the biggest heart and always reached out a helping hand even if it meant that it would hurt herself in the end, gradually deteriorate in front of their eyes. Max couldn’t take it any longer. He had been able to ease her ailments a little as he discreetly poured his healing strength into her head as he hugged her. But that didn’t take away the tumor. That didn’t make her stand up and bounce around like she always had done as she was excited. That didn’t make her smack her hand over Michael’s head when he had said something stupid (which was a recurrent event). He wanted to heal her. He knew that he could do it. He knew it. He just had to focus a lot. He couldn’t let her die. His heart ached, and he could barely stand being in the same room as her anymore. Because it wasn’t her laying there in that big bed. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t Maria.
“He left? Again?” Michael asked in disbelief.
“Yes,” Isabel sighed. She was just so tired of her brother’s escapades. He thought he was some damn super hero out on a mission to save the whole world from evil. Why couldn’t he understand that he put everyone in jeopardy?
“He needs to get his brain fixed,” Michael muttered.
“Hey...what’s wrong?”
They looked up and saw Maria standing there, eyeing them over.
“Max’s AWOL,” Michael declared.
“Again?” Maria said, and sat down next to Michael.
“That’s what I said,” Michael said.
“What is he doing?” Maria asked.
“He’s off saving some girl. I think it’s the same girl as last time,” Isabel said.
“Wow, she must be really messed up if she needs his help that many times,” Maria said.
“Ya know what I’ve been thinking,” Michael said.
“I’m not sure I wanna know,” Isabel said.
“Yeah...thinking... Michael, you know that never ends well,” Maria said seriously.
“Haha, very funny,” Michael said sarcastically. “My theory is that the chic Max is constantly ‘saving’ is really his secret lover.”
Maria and Isabel simultaneously scrunched their noises.
“Ewww,” the said in unison.
“That’s like...my brother you’re talking about,” Isabel said.
”Yeah Michael. Let’s be serious. This is Max, you know,” Maria said matter-of-factly. “The guy who hasn’t shown anything close to an interest in girls. Actually, I once again adduce that Maxie boy is gay.”
“He’s not,” Michael exclaimed. “I would’ve known if he was!”
“Well, maybe you just ain’t his type,” Maria said arching her eye-brow at him.
“Okay, now would be a good moment to stop this conversation,” Isabel said. If she knew Michael and Maria as well as she thought she did, they would soon start talking about Max’s sex-life and from there on anything could happen. And she definitely didn’t want to hear about that!!
“What are we going to do about Max?” Isabel asked.
“Well, Max is the one with the job that makes good money,” Maria said. “I don’t have the money to go after him to New York. And even if I did, I’m not so sure I would want to spend my money on chasing after him.”
“But we have to do something. He might get hurt,” Isabel said. “I don’t like it.”
”Max is a big boy, Isabel. I’m sure he can take care of himself,” Maria said.
“He has no control of his premonitions,” Isabel said. “They are so new that he hasn’t learnt how to use them yet.”
Maria nodded in understanding.
“So..he’s like not conscious when he gets the premonitions?” she asked.
Isabel shook her head.
“No, I think he leaves the state of consciousness and goes to another state of his mind – the unconscious or whatever – where he is susceptible to the visions.”
“Why don’t he just shut them off?” Michael asked bluntly.
“Like I said, he has yet no control over those powers,” Isabel said, annoyance in her voice.
“Yeah, spaceboy. And last time I checked you wasn’t exactly the master of controlling your powers.”
“That is taken care of,” Michael murmured.
Maria’s eyebrows went up to the roots of her ear.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Michael said, his voice daring Maria to say another word. Well, on someone else that might have worked. But Maria rarely stepped back from a conversation where she could tease Michael. Isabel sighed as Michael and Maria started bickering again. She wished her brother was here. They still hadn’t reached a decision what they should do. It looked as if she had to go to New York by her own.
“Hey Liz.”
She whipped around, her heart disentangling itself from its strings and propelling down in her stomach. As she saw him, her eyes narrowed and she relaxed a little. But the strong sense of apprehension had put its claws in her to stay.
“Mr. Anderson, what are you doing here?” she asked, surprised that she was able to keep her voice steady. He smiled at her, which made a chill run down her spine. She didn’t know why her mind was screaming DANGER at her. It was only David...from work. Although, she couldn’t ignore the fact that warning bells had gone off in her head the moment David reached out his hand to greet her that day when he’d first come to work there.
“Please, Liz, call me David. And I was just checking so that you came home all right.”
Like hell you were! Liz thought, and forced herself to smile.
“Well, that’s nice of you. But now I’m home so..good night, Mr. Anderson.”
She intentionally used his surname distance herself from him. He gave her the creeps – especially when she knew that she was alone in a dark stair well late at night. It didn’t help matters much that all of her neighbors were in their sixties, so no one would be able to come to her rescue. Oh, stop it Liz! She banned herself. Why would anyone have to save her? It was only David from work. Again...that didn’t ease her anxiety. She turned to her door (keeping a constant watch on him in her peripheral vision), and hauled up her keys from her purse – discreetly trying to signal to him that she was home now – safe – and that she intended on going into her apartment – alone - and he was to go home. Well, either he was very dense, or he wanted something else. And Liz was pretty sure it was the latter alternative, because he didn’t go away. He stood there beside her, a cocky smug draped over his face. She wasn’t so comfortable about opening the door to her apartment as he was still standing there. If she opened the door, he could push her inside and no one would hear her.
She was so distressed at the moment, that she didn’t notice that she was being watched by more than David Anderson’s cold eyes. He was standing in the shadows, a grim expression on his face as he watched the man more or less harass her. He tightened his clenched fists as the man reached out with his hand and run it down her arm. He could see her jumping, but she was still trying to pretend like nothing.
“How about you invite me in,” David suggested – his voice slimy.
The man standing in the shadows started to focus on Mr. Anderson’s legs – pushing them from each other.
Liz turned her head around and watched in bewilderment as the smooth Mr. Anderson somehow tripped and fell down the stairs. If she had been in another situation, that would have seemed funny to her. But she wasn’t. So it didn’t. Instead she took hold of that iron focus inside of her and put the key in the lock. Without looking back to check how Mr. Anderson had taken the fall, she closed the door, put on the latch, and locked all the locks she had on the door – shutting out the hostile world.
The man disguising himself by the help of the dark shadows felt relief flow through him. She was safe.
---------------------------------------------.
The gray colors were whirling around her. They were pressing her down, filling up her cells with darkness. There were sounds everywhere. Subdued sounds. Whispers. Hushes. The surroundings were dark and menacing. She found herself covered in a thick mist.
”Max!” she cried out, trying to penetrate the mist with her weightless body.
She couldn’t see a thing, and the voices around her were scaring her. There were weird smells around her - she had never been experiencing smells on this level of consciousness before.
”Max!” she cried again. She saw a dark shadow huddled up some feet ahead of her.
”Max...?” she said again. She tentatively moved closer to the figure. The person was clutching something. This was Max’s mind - she knew it. Even though the impressions and feelings in his mind were very different from how she remembered them to be, there was something hanging on the fringes of the surroundings - trying to slip through the impenetrable surroundings. It was the small things that defined her brother. His gentleness, his shyness, his protectorate, his warmth, his humanity...
Her heart was slamming in her chest, small beads of perspiration forming on her forehead, but she had to touch that figure. She moved closer. The figure’s back was facing her, but as she came closer she could make out the contours of what the figure was clutching to the chest. It was a human. A female.
”Max....?” she said timidly.
The figure’s head swirled around, his eyes large and unrecognizable with fear and grief.
”Isabel...,” he breathed.
”Max...you’re scaring me..” she said as she watched him turn his head back towards the figure in his lap. Isabel stepped closer and looked over his shoulder. The sight chilled her to the bones. It was a woman, a beautiful woman. Her forehead was shining with perspiration, her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly ajar. Isabel followed the woman’s slender figure with her eyes, to come at a halt at the woman’s abdomen. It was covered in a dark, dull substance. Blood.
”Max...” she said slowly. ”What’s happening?”
”I couldn’t save her,” he said, and his voice tore at her heart. He sounded...lost. She could not recognize his voice any longer. There was too much grief, and loneliness. Too much heart-wrenching sorrow. Desolate. ”I couldn’t save her, Iz.”
”This is just one of your premonitions....let’s get out of here,” Isabel said gently, and she focused on changing the surroundings. But her efforts turned out to be unsuccessful. Something was keeping her here. Max was stopping her from changing the state his mind was captured in.
”Max...let go,” Isabel said, her voice betraying the strain visiting his mind and trying to make changes in it was doing to her.
”I can’t leave her, Iz,” Max whispered, his voice turning the blood floating through Isabel’s veins into ice.
”Max... she isn’t real, she isn’t real,” Isabel said, taking a firm grip around her brother’s arm in an effort to remove him from the female - and this premonition.
”Max!” she cried. She could feel how her energy was depleting - she had to get him out of there. She couldn’t leave him there. ”Max!”
With one final forceful tug, she pulled on his body - and his mind, and the eerie dark world started to dissipate around them.
”Nooooo”
Isabel tried to block out her brother’s wail. It was inhuman - like the wail of a wounded animal. Bright colors of blue, red, yellow, and green started to blend with the dark and cold colors. Brightness was taking over, and under Isabel’s spell they soon found themselves in a meadow. The sky was blue - not a cloud in sight. The light breeze was warm and inviting. The grass sparkling with life, and here and there small splotches of color showed their humble petals.
Max was kneeling on the ground, his upper body bent over his knees - covering his head in his hands.
”Max...?” Isabel said and fell on her knees beside her brother. The shining sun, and the rich scent of flowers hanging in the air merely served to make the situation more bizarre, and surreal. Her brother was in pain...and perhaps a dark place would have been more fitting. It was as if he was hiding from the world - hiding away from the happiness.
She put her hand on his shoulder. But he felt cold...and then she felt as if she was falling. Her breath caught in her throat, and before she had a time to react she found herself back in her room in the hotel she was staying at. She sat up and rubbed her forehead. She couldn’t help but be stunned. Max had push her out. He had kicked her out of his mind. He had never done that before.
-----------------------------------------
1987
Tick-tack tick-tack tick-tack
The sound vibrated through the small room. The wallpaper was old, the white flowers on the pink background slowly fading due to age. The floor was cold, forcing the little girl to sit on the carpet. Spread out around her were small pieces of woods – all in different forms – with the purpose of fitting snugly together if put with the right partner. The movement of her small hand was repetitive, but yet displayed no signs of fatigue. They were smooth and simple, yet swift.
Tick-tack tick-tack tick-tack
Her hand moved with the same rate as the hands of the clock hanging on the wall. Tick – one piece was put in place, tack – another piece was put in place. The pieces were rapidly forming an image – the puzzle was expanding under her brisk hand.
Tick-tack tick-tack tick-tack
The sound of the rhythmic ticking was penetrated by the an inconsistent knocking. The girl was quickly on her feet. “I’ll get it!”
“Okay pumpkin,” her mother answered, while she slowly moved towards the front door – with the rag in her hand. Her movements at freeing the shelves and tables in the living room from the uninvited dust were simple – the movements of someone who had done that motion several times. Her hand stopped in mid air as her daughter’s voice reached her ears.
“Mir geht es gut. Ja... Nein, das is gut, danke. Ja, danke schön. Tschüss.“
She took some stuttering steps towards the hallway.
“Mom! The food is here.”
The little girl’s voice trailed off as she nearly hit her mother square in the chest with the pizza carton she held in her hands.
“It’s extra cheese,” the little girl said, with a tempting smile. Her mother’s staring was making her insecure. Why was she looking at her like that?
“Mom... what’s wrong?”
Her daughter’s timid voice broke her out of her frozen stance. The mother focused on pulling up the corners of her mouth and give her daughter a calming and reassuring smile. But she failed.
“Let’s eat,” the mother said hoarsely.
The little girl nodded, but kept observing her mother. Then she turned around and disappeared into the kitchen. The little girl was four years old. She was raised in America. Her native language was English. Nothing could provide a sensible explanation to the fact that she had talked fluent German with the bilingual pizza deliverer. Nothing could thoroughly explain why she during the consecutive year was able to learn to speak fluent French, Spanish, Latin, Greek, Russian, Chinese...
Max rose from the bed as he heard the knocking on the thin wooden door.
He was not surprised to find his sister at the other side of the door. He had felt her presence as soon as she had entered the motel.
”Hi Max,” she said, her voice stiff and formal.
”Hi Isabel,” Max said, his voice caring traces of guilt.
Without an invitation, Isabel brushed past her brother into the room. ”So this is where you’ve been hiding.”
”Isabel, I...”
”You just had to leave again, right,” Isabel said, and it was more a statement than a question.
”She was in danger,” Max said.
He expected his sister to snap at him, but she just calmly sat down on the edge of the bed - watching him quietly.
”What..?” Max asked timidly.
”Who is she, Max?”
Max diverted his eyes from hers to stare at the pink wall-to-wall carpet covering the floor instead.
”I don’t know, Isabel,” he said.
”Something’s different about her,” Isabel said, and met Max’s eyes without flickering as he shot them back to hers.
”I saw her in your drea- in your premonition, and there was something different about her whole presence. And that’s really weird in itself ‘cause she wasn’t really there...it was only a premonition.”
”Yeah,” Max said, his body gradually turning cold as his thoughts were pulled back to the premonition when he had held her dead body in his arms. When he had failed to protect her - to save her. ”The premonition was different from the others I’ve had.”
”What do you mean?” Isabel said, as her brother grew silent.
”You know when I got those premonitions about mom, and we made her stay at home that day when she was actually going to get into a car crash...?”
”Yeah,” Isabel, her voice now low and thin as she was once again reminded of which major turn her life could have taken if Max hadn’t seen their mother in that car crash – if they haven’t been able to prevent it from happening.
”I didn’t feel anything like that then...with mom. And I know mom. I don’t know this girl - and yet I feel this...this...”
”What?”
”This pull towards her. Like she’s calling for me. The others I’ve saved haven’t been conscious of the fact that they needed help, but for some reason I’m not so sure about her. I think she somehow knows that she’s in danger. And I don’t know how she does it - but she calls for me.”
”Do you know how weird that sounds?” Isabel asked.
Max sighed, and sat down beside Isabel on the bed.
”I know, I know,” he said, rubbing his forehead with his hand. Isabel looked at him worriedly. This really bothered him. She knew her brother, and the responsibility he put on himself. He took responsibility for everyone around him - even the people he didn’t know. A part of him would die if he failed in saving someone, knowing that he’d possessed the knowledge that should have saved that person. And now Isabel wondered how big that part would actually get, and just how far off Michael had been when he had said that Max was in NYC to meet his secret lover. Seriously, the girl seemed very important - but maybe it was just because she left such a big impression on him. Isabel had only felt her indirectly when she had tried to dreamwalk Max, and instead had stumbled into one of his premonitions. The short time Isabel had felt this girl was enough to leave her thinking about that girl for the whole weekend - before she was able to dreamwalk Max again and find out his destination.
Isabel placed a hand on Max’s shoulder in a supportive manner.
”Max, we’ll help her. I’ll help you,” Isabel said.
Max turned his head and looked at her - gratitude written all over his face, as the tension visible in his facial features smoothed out some.
”Thank you, Isabel.”
”So, what’s her name?”
”Elizabeth. Elizabeth Parker.”
”Elizabeth. Elizabeth Parker.”
”What is her relation to the subject?”
”Well, at first glance - nothing. But if you look a little closer, things start to look suspicious. This woman is what you would call a prodigy.”
”A prodigy?”
”Yes. She could speak seven different languages at the age of five. She could play the piano when she was two years old, and then we aren’t talking ”Twinkle, twinkle little star”. We’re talking Mozart, Tchaikovsky, Beethoven-”
”If she was such an extraordinary child, then why hasn’t anyone heard of her?”
”Reports from her teachers and some of her classmates show that she display resistance to participate in group activities. She was often seen on her own. She hardly socialized with anyone. Her parents seem to have been very secretive of her abilities.”
”Wouldn’t they want to show her off. Like any proud parent?”
”Yeah, that’s why this doesn’t make sense. The parents acted like what she could do was abnormal instead of special. Which brings us to the fact that Max Evans parents weren’t so quick on showing off their child’s abilities either.”
”He was the same?”
”Pretty much. He could memorize a book after reading it once. One of his teacher reports that he knew the whole phone book by heart. But what’s interesting is that he also kept for himself. He was only seen with two other individuals - Isabel Evans - his sister - and Michael Guerin.”
”Is his sister the same way?”
”She was considered to be highly intelligent as well, but you would never have guessed that Max and Isabel were siblings. Isabel Evans was active in the cheer-leading squad. She was in the Student Council. She was active in various school plays and other activities that were arranged during holidays - as Christmas and Halloween. She interacted with several individuals - never binding herself to just a few people.”
”Is she under the same accusations as Max Evans?”
”We can never be sure. She was adopted at the same time as Max, and even though they are as different as night and day - there is this secretive aura about them that makes them stand out from everybody else.”
”And Michael Guerin?”
”A delinquency. He’s been transferred from foster home to foster home - his misbehavior increasing with every transfer. He’s quick-tempered, but is also a loner and rarely socialize with anyone. Except Isabel and Max Evans. He rarely sat his foot in school during his school years - but somehow he always managed to do well in class and on tests.”
”Another brainiac?”
”Perhaps.”
”So...Isabel Evans and Michael Guerin could also be...”
”There is a possibility.”
”And where does this Elizabeth Parker come into the picture?”
”Max Evans abruptly leaves for NYC to save her from a rapist.”
”He might just have been on the right place at the right moment.”
”Maybe. However, next he returns to Roswell just to go back to New York two days later.”
”And now you think he’s still here, and probably because of this girl.”
”Yes.”
”Then I guess we have to pay Elizabeth Parker a small visit.”
The documents went flying out over the floor.
“Oh my God. I am so sorry!”
Liz kneeled, starting to pick up the papers. The person who had accidentally bumped into her did the same.
“Oh, don’t worry. It was just an accident,” Liz said, her hands moving over the yellow surface of the office floor in search of her drawings. Her hands came to an abrupt halt as they bumped into the other person’s hands and she raised her eyes to meet the woman kneeling across from her. The woman was beautiful. She had long blonde hair, light brown eyes and gracious clean-cut features. Her make-up was simple, serving to make her natural beauty even more prominent. The woman gave a slight smile as she felt the other woman’s analyzing looks.
“Hi, I’m Isabel,” the woman introduced herself, and stretched out her hand for Liz to take.
Liz’s facial features soften, and she took Isabel’s hand. Isabel noticed that this petite woman had a firm grip, and a fire in her eyes that made her almost glow. No surprise that her brother showed her such great interest.
“I’m Liz. Are you new here?”
“Yeah, I’m Mr. Anderson’s assistant,” Isabel said, and was for a moment puzzled by the dark – almost frightened – flash that seemed to momentarily flashed by in Liz’s eyes. But it disappeared so quickly that Isabel wondered if she had just been mistaking.
“Well, welcome. I’m sure you gonna like it here,” Liz said, and to Isabel’s surprise she grew even more beautiful as she smiled. There was something special about this Liz’s beauty. It wasn’t just an appearance – it was a whole matter of stance, confidence, humbleness and goodness.
“Thank you, Liz,” Isabel said, and then tore her eyes away from the dark-haired woman to retrieve the last leaves of paper that had floated down behind her. “Here you go.”
Isabel put the papers in Liz’s hand, and flashed her a warm smile.
“Nice meeting you, Liz.”
“Nice meeting you too, Isabel. I hope we’ll see more of each other.”
“That I’m positive of,” Isabel said.
The rain was clattering against the tin plated roof. The little toddler was sitting on a blanket on the floor. The TV was on, its noise helplessly trying to drown the merciless sound of the pelting rain drops. No one paid any greater attention to the TV. The little two-year old was busy putting on and taking off the clothes of a fair-haired doll. The mother was in the adjoining room, the jerky and inconsistent music that was constructed under her fingertips drifting through the small house. The father was in the basement, his primary attention focused on the immovability of the hands of one of the old wall clock that had occupied a place above the oven in the kitchen. Its ticking language was missed in the simple household, and the father had during the last two hours insisted on staring at the clock – hoping that it under the spell of his eyes would suddenly and mysteriously come to life.
The little toddler looked at the doll with a soft smile gracing her soft features. The doll had been a present. She had gotten it the day before, and her mother had sewed the doll some clothes. Two small dresses. One blue with white flowers, and one green with black dots. The little girl found the doll so pretty. The doll had blonde hair – so soft, and a little curly. She looked up at the door-frame, once again contemplating if she should call for her mother to show her how pretty the doll was. In that movement of turning her head towards the door frame, and tearing her dark big eyes away from the doll, her concentration was disturbed, and her dreamworld was suddenly invaded with the harsh sounds coming from the TV. On the TV, the cartoons had been replaced by something completely else. The little girl curiously diverted her eyes towards the screen, her small mind quickly taking in all the rapid images that flashed in front of her eyes. The images were feeding her mind – only giving off pictures, no meaning. But the little girl’s eyebrows scrunched together as the people on the screen was crying, screaming and falling. With a sharp intake, the little innocent girl was on her back – her eyes tightly shut, her fists tightly clenched at the sides of her small body – as the violent seizures rocked her body.
Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto in B-minor ended bluntly, subtracting its participation to the sounds vibrating through the house. The hands that had moved over the black and white keys were swiftly pulled away. Legs went into motion instantaneously, the rate of the heart increased unnaturally as the body moved towards the room that housed the TV, a couch, a small table, and for the time being a blanket and a little girl. The creaking of the door to the basement as it was torn open went unnoticed as the two adults rushed into the TV-room following the ear- and heart-piercing cry of their child. Their movements were shaky, and insecure as they moved over their daughter’s convulsing body. The scream was consistent – the images flashing by under the closed eye-lids of the two-year old too mind-numbing to be allowed to be experienced by any living creature. The little girl inhaled sharply, her body arching upwards. Her eye-lids slammed open – her eyes unseeing and her dark brown eyes misted. “Nooooooooo!! Please don’t die! Please don’t die!! I need you!! Please don’t leave me! Please!! Nooooo!”
Her body went limb, her head eyes rolling back in her head as she slumped together on the floor.
“Oh my God! Oh my God! Do something! Is she dead...oh my God. Baby, can you hear me...?”
“I’m calling the ambulance.”
“Baby. Can you hear me? Please answer, honey. Oh my God, oh my God. It’s mommy. Please answer mommy.”
Once again a sharp intake of air, and her eyes flew open.
“He died,” the little girl said, her voice eerie. “He left me...” Then her mind lost the grip of consciousness once again and fell back into the cold but emotionless unconscious world.
“Did you meet her?”
“Yeah, I actually kind of bumped into her.”
He arched his eye-brow.
“You kind of bumped into her?” he repeated incredulously.
“Yeah,” she answered nonchalantly and sat down on the bed – taking forward the snapple she had bought from the vending-machine in the lobby.
“So...?”
“So what?” she asked innocently, enjoying to see Max squirm.
“Did she look okay? Did she look sad? What did she say?”
“Wohoo, slow down bro! She looked amazing – like you didn’t already know that,” she smugly observed her brother blush, “and she didn’t look sad. But she didn’t say much.”
“Okaaayy,” Max breathed. “Was there anything out of the ordinary then?”
“Well, there was this thing. I mentioned to her that I was working for David Anderson, and I could have sworn that she looked frightened for a second.”
“Is he blond, pretty tall?”
“Uhm.. yeah,” Isabel said slowly, and suspiciously frowned. “Do you know him?”
“He’s been after her ever since he started there.”
“Oh. And why didn’t you think it was necessary for me to know this until now?”
“I forget to tell you, I guess.”
“Right,” Isabel said, not believing a word he said. He was a good liar. They all were – having been forced to live with a life-threatening secret. But when it came down to lying to her, he wasn’t really good. She could spot the almost unnoticeable and subtle movements his fingers made as he was telling a lie. Fidgeting – and he was doing it now.
“Max, you can’t do this!”
“What?”
“You can’t keep information from me! If we are going to help each other out we must be able to tell each other everything. Everything, Max!”
Max sighed, and rubbed his forehead before he looked up and met Isabel’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, Isabel. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t think you would be working for him. I didn’t know his name. I just knew what he looked like and that he worked in the same office as her. But I really think we should keep an eye on him. I don’t trust him for a second.”
“Is he the ‘bad guy’?” Isabel asked, wincing a little at how lame that sounded. But that was how it was living in their reality. Everything was more or less black and white. Either you were an enemy or a friend. Either a bad guy or a good guy.
“You have to be careful with him, Izzy. I don’t really like that you’re working for him. If I had known-“
“Max. Stop it, all right? I’m a big girl! I can take care of myself. Besides – I have an advantage that many women don’t.”
“Karate lessons?” Max asked incredulously.
“Wicked alien powers,” Isabel said, mustering up her best spooky voice.
She was crawling on the ground, the mud creeping through her clothes - its cold texture seeping in to her bones. But she didn’t notice. She wasn’t aware of the screams of death around her. She wasn’t aware of rain pelting down on her fragile body - drenching her in icy water. Her body was numb. She was dying - inside.
Silence.
In her world everything was silent. She was being emptied - her soul being ripped from her.
Piece by piece.
One piece was seeping out between her legs. Viciously and hot. It burnt her skin with its presence. A constant reminder of what had been ripped from her - stolen.
Killed.
She had only one thing left to live for - and she was slowly being raped of it as well. She reached his side. He was kneeling in the cold mud - his body bent over. But she knew.
She knew that he was dying.
She reached out her hand to touch his hair. Her hand became covered in the warm blood that was trickling down his cheek from the fatal wound in his head. At her touch, he looked up at her. His eyes were dark - mournful - shimmering with tears. He was not crying at the realization that he was going to die. He was not crying because of the pain in his chest that was spreading throughout his whole body. The pain was too numbing for his mind to grasp. He was crying because of everything he had lost. Everything he was going to lose. The future was going to rip him from the only bright light he knew, and it was only a matter of minutes before the future would arrive.
”You have to fight! Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”
”I..love..you.”
”Don’t say that! You can’t leave me.”
”I...can’t...”
”Yes, you can. You have to want to live.”
She could feel him reaching for her then - grabbing onto his only thread to life. It was the only thing that was making his heart still beat, even though the extent of his injuries should have forced him to draw his last breath a long time ago.
”I love you,” she whispered, her tears melting in the stream of water flooding down her face.
”Please....stay safe,” he whispered - his words gasping, reaching for the air that was incapable of reaching his air sacs due to the punctuated state of his lungs. He slumped together, his eyes leaving hers - and with a freezing realization she felt him faltering. He couldn’t hold on any longer. He was leaving this world.
He was leaving her.
”Noooooooo!! Please don’t die! Please don’t die!! I need you!!” she cried, her hands grabbing his torn clothes, trying to straighten his tired body up. Trying to save it from sinking down into the dark solace. His voice was so soft that it was almost an impossibility that she had heard him. But her whole attention was intently focused on him. She could hear nothing but him.
”This isn’t farewell, love.”
And he was gone.
”Please don’t leave me! Please!! Nooooo!”
But she knew he was gone. The removal of his soul was devouring her soul, covering her in a cold darkness. She was dying.
The knock ripped her out of the dream. Her heart was slamming in her chest, her body shining from the layer of sweat that covered her body. Her breathing was labored, as she tried to focus her eyes on the surroundings. Then there was a second knock - diverting her attention to where she was. In her apartment - in New York. With trembling hands, the cover was removed from her shaking body and her legs were swung over the edge of the bed. She shivered as her bare feet touched the cold floor. Her legs were shaky as she moved across the floor, barely supporting her weight. The mists of sleep was still clouding her mind, as she unlocked the lock and took off the latch to finally open the door. Then she was on the floor - her back aching from the contact of her body slamming into the wall. And then there was the pain. The pain that was trying to drag her down in the black safe state of the unconscious.
”So you found him again.”
The man was hovering over her. The features of his face menacing and evil - malicious. As she fought the unconscious, the face with such evil glaring at her, she was filled with the deepest sense of familiarity. His face was familiar. His blue eyes cold and his blond hair appearing dark in the shadows riveting over his face in the poorly lit apartment.
This had happened before.
Next his cold fingers were clasping her small neck - gradually squeezing the life out of her. She was gasping, trying to draw some oxygen into her burning lungs. She barely registered as his face leaned closer to her, his hot breath infecting her skin, as black spots were dancing a death dance before her eyes. But his evil hiss rang clearly in her ears.
”You filthy bitch. I done it once, and it will be my pleasure doing it again.”
The pressure on her neck abruptly vanished, as his hands pulled away. But before she could let her legs buckle under her, his hard fingers gripped around her upper arm. She faintly registered that his other hand had moved to her abdomen before an explosive pain coursed through her body. She cried out as she felt the life inside of her diminishing - the coldness increasing.
”You should have learnt the last time.” He hissed, and the pain increased - burning her insides.
She bolted out of the dream, gasping for air. Her body was covered in sweat, her breathing uncontrolled. Her gasps ripping through her body as the insides of her air sacs burnt from the extortion. The inhuman cry died on her lips as her eyes accustomed themselves to the surroundings. But before she could fight off the ghosts of the dream that still hindered her body from functioning properly - her hands instinctively moved to her abdomen. Feeling the loss.
The loss of the baby she’d never had.
--------------------------------------------.
Liz sighed deeply. Only rain. It was only rain. Rain. Consisting of water. Water that she drank, that was in her body. Why was it bothering her so much? It kept tugging at her bones – making them ache and her senses went into overdrive again. It was about five p.m. and she really had to get some more work done, but all she wanted to do was to get home and hide away from the rain clouds that drifted outside the large window – making the sky dark gray. Of course, going home also meant that she had to go out in the rain. She felt handicapped. Why was it such a big deal? She didn’t know. She had never truly received an answer to that. She suspected that her mind knew, but for some reason the knowledge and the answers had been suppressed to the deepest and most inaccessible caverns of her unconscious. Like almost everything else that had happened during her childhood. She knew that strange things had happened. She knew that she had not been a what you would call regular child. Her mind had effectively sorted out what was good and what was bad. The good was cherished in her memory. The times with her father...and her mother. The bad was put in a dark room, the door was closed and the key was thrown away. Sometimes she regretted that she couldn’t remember everything about her childhood – but on the other hand. If she had been so urgent to repress it, it must’ve been bad. Too bad to want to remember. Rain.
A knock on her office door pulled her out of her memories.
“Hey,” a female voice said, and Liz turned away from the window to see Isabel’s face poking in between the open door and the doorframe. “You’re going home?”
“I don’t know, actually,” Liz answered. “I probably shouldn’t, but this raining is really...”
“Depressing,” Isabel filled in as Liz’s voice trailed off.
Liz smiled weakly. “Exactly.”
“You don’t like the rain either, huh?” Isabel asked, opening the door some more and stepping inside Liz’s office. Liz shook her head, her arms unconsciously wrapping around her body to fight of the chill that had begun to settle itself in her bones. Isabel registered the movement, and was once again a little puzzled. This girl just didn’t make any sense to her.
“I’m from Roswell, New Mexico – so I’m not really used to it raining this much.”
“Isn’t that where the aliens come from?” Liz asked, arching one eye-brow.
“You just had to bring that one up, didn’t you?” Isabel asked, smiling.
“Sorry,” Liz said, a smile draping itself over her features as well, reaching her eyes – making them sparkle. “It’s just...it’s such a infamous place, right?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty goofy,” Isabel said stepping closer to Liz. “We have aliens everywhere – at least in the form of restaurants and souvenirs.”
“Must be interesting,” Liz said.
“I would not really use the word ‘interesting’, but yeah. Although, having lived there your whole life it becomes part of everyday life. It never was something extraordinary to us. I even think it’s weird to step into a restaurant where there are no alien-themed food.”
Liz giggled. She liked Isabel. She had already forgotten about the rain. Well, that was until the sound of thunder ripped through the sky – the blazing light of a lightning following closely behind. Liz involuntarily shivered.
“So, what about it?” Isabel asked. “You’re going home too? I was hoping we could keep each other company. I really don’t like this kind of weather.”
Liz nodded, no need to think any further about it. She hated being out alone in the streets – especially after everything that had happened to her lately.
“Yes. I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” she said, moving to her desk to collect all her papers.
“Great,” Isabel said, relief flowing through her as she was able to keep Liz away from the streets in a lonesome state for one more night – easing Max’s worries.
---------------------------------------------.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Liz said to the girl in front of her.
”Yeah,” she answered. “Bye!”
“Bye.” With a smile on her face, which was very peculiar for being her considering the fact that it was still raining, she climbed the stairs to the gate, and entered the portal code. She stifled a yawn as she pushed the door open. Even though the walk home had been great – Isabel was great fun to talk to – her body visibly relaxed the moment she stepped inside and left the rain behind her, on the other side of the door.
She decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator. She felt jumpy, and she figured that she needed to deplete some energy. After four flight of stairs she reached the door with the sign “Elizabeth Parker” on the mail drop. That’s when she felt it – at the back of her neck. She was being watched. However, it was a weird feeling. She wasn’t afraid. Her hand stretched out and turned the switch in the well which made the well bath in light as she simultaneously turned around. Previously hidden in the shadows stood that man. The man who had saved her. The man who had run away from her. The man she hadn’t been able to thank. The man with the eyes.
Those soft eyes of his – which she in the light could see were the colors of golden warm amber – grew larger as he realized that his cover was blown.
“What...who..” Liz stuttered, unable to recuperate quickly enough from the fact that she was now standing in front of the man that she had so dearly wanted to speak to earlier. But before she could form a coherent sentence – even before she could form a consistent thought – he brushed past her, disappearing down the stairs. No longer caring about the rain, Liz ran down the stairs after him – not intending to lose sight of him again. Unfortunately, his legs were still longer than hers. Hence, he still moved faster than her.
“Please, wait!!” she yelled as she saw him plunge out throw the front door. The door slammed shut in front of her, and felt heavy and stiff as she had to summon all her strength to open it. The heavy rain drops started to fall on her head, almost suffocating her with their abrupt arrival and intensity. She gasped for air for a few seconds – the rain creating trickles of water streaming down her face and into her mouth.
“Wait!!” she yelled again, as she saw his back grew smaller as he was slowly disappearing from her again. She took a deep breath and ran down the stairs – fortunate enough not to slip on the wet concrete. Her small feet hit the water, making it splash around her – hitting her legs, soaking her. A couple of meters in front of her she saw him dive into an alley. She quickened her pace – knowing that she was not yet too far away...and also knowing that some of the alleys were dead ends. Maybe he had chosen badly. She turned the corner to the alley, and stopped dead in her tracks. Her breathing was labored, the sound of it raspy as it ripped in her throat. Her lungs were aching – dry from the rapid inhaling and exhaling. Her clothes were clinging to her body like a second skin, and her hair clung close to her face. But it was what her eyes saw that did the most effect on her body. The man she’d been chasing – her savior – was laying on the ground. His body was convulsing – violent tremors surging through his body. Without a further thought she stepped closer to the body that was trapped in such a seemingly painful state.
He slowly urged his body to return to consciousness. This was the worst premonition that he had ever had. He could still feel its aftershocks riveting through his body, and he sensed that he had been unconscious for some time. As he gradually returned to consciousness he realized that the material underneath him was soft...not hard. He was pretty certain that he had been in an alley when he the premonition had hit him - and concrete was hard. He focused more on exhorting those cloudy mists away from his mind. He needed to wake up - something was not right.
The rain was pouring down – its coldness chilling her to the bones. Her body was trembling in reaction to the coldness, but her mind was not concerned with what her body was doing. Her eyes were on the man laying on the ground – obviously having some kind of seizure. She couldn’t see his face. His back was turn towards her – his legs pulled up in a fetus position. The first thought that had hit her was that the man in front of her was suffering from an epileptic seizure, but his posture contradicted that theory. She did not have any medical training, but she knew that when someone was cramping they often stretched their limbs out in all direction. They never pulled their body together like this. It was as if he was cramping, but at the same time relaxing. As if he was in a comatose state. Thunder ripped through the air, and the rain came pelting down even worse, if that was even possible. She tore her eyes away from the shaking body and turned her face upwards – feeling the hard raindrops strike her face in an inconsolable repetitive manner. Dark gray clouds were floating by fast on the night sky – hiding the beautiful stars, making the world a much scarier place. For a second she lost herself in that sky and she could with an almost abnormal intensity hear all the sounds around her. She could her the faint sound of the man’s clothes as they were brushing against the ground, she could hear the meowing of a cat a couple of alleys away. She could hear the rushing sound of the warm blood pumping through her veins and then the sky was lit up by another lightning and she plummeted back to Earth. She turned her head towards him again, and came to a decision. She should call for help.
She could see him awakening. The small fluttering of his eyelids - the movements of his eyeballs underneath - gave him away. She mentally tried to prepare herself, and then he opened his eyes, and she realized that he was terrified.
”Mr. Smith? Hi, it’s Elizabeth...Elizabeth Parker.” Pause. “Yeah... I’m really sorry for calling you at this hour but I need your help.” Pause. “A man is hurt, and I need to get him inside my apartment. Can you come right away?” Pause. “Thank you so much.” She looked up at the street sign to her left and gave him the directions.
His mind quickly registered the surroundings. He was indoors, he was laying in a bed, and she was sitting on a chair right in front of him.
Elizabeth heard a car approaching and slowing down. She peeked out from behind the house wall and saw her boss’ black Mercedes coming closer. She waved with her hands over her head to get his attention. He brought the car to a screeching halt and was out of the car in no time.
“My God, Ms. Parker. You’re all wet,” he said, a concerned look covering his features as he made his way over to her.
“You gotta help me. I think he’s having an epileptic seizure or something.”
Mr. Smith looked over Liz, which her humble height allowed him to do, and saw the man laying on the ground. He was quickly by his side, rolling him onto his back. Liz sat down on the other side of the man. The man had his eyes closed, but his lips were constantly moving as if they were forming words. But no sounds were heard.
“We have to get him out of here,” Mr. Smith said. “Do you know him?”
“Yeah, he’s a friend of mine,” Liz said quickly.
“Okay, we have to get him to the hospital,” Mr. Smith said.
“Do we really have to?” Liz asked.
Mr. Smith looked at her with a bewildered expression on his face.
“Of course. Ms. Parker – he can die,” Mr. Smith said.
Liz didn’t know why she didn’t want to take the man to the hospital. It was like something in the back of her head was nagging at her – begging her to not take him to the hospital.. Maybe it was instinct. She just knew that the man would be in a greater hazard if he was brought to the hospital than whatever was happening to him now was.
“I know, I know,” Liz said, the rain dripping down in her mouth and she suddenly felt the urge to retch. The rain was suffocating her, and it was something about this whole situation that was reminding her of something. Something terrible. She knew that she had to lie. Otherwise Mr. Smith would continue on insisting on taking him to the hospital.
“He will be fine, Mr. Smith. He has some pills at my place – he left them there – I just need to get him there, and give him the pills when he calms down.”
Mr. Smith looked at her with plain suspicion in his eyes. That didn’t really make sense to him. But it was something in Ms. Parker’s eyes that told him that he should do what she asked. There was an intensity, but also fear.
Mr. Smith looked down at the young man, seizure coursing through his body making his fingers twitch, and his legs alternate between stiffening and relaxing. He really should be going to a hospital. But something told him that Ms. Parker wouldn’t give in, and they certainly couldn’t be out in the rain any longer. If the young man didn’t die of his seizures, he could die from pneumonia – and from the drenched state that Ms. Parker was in – so could she. He swallowed, and hoped that he wasn’t going to regret this decision.
“Okay, let’s try to get him to my car,” he said. He moved around the young man, kneeling behind the top of his head and took a hold of the man’s upper arms, and started to lift him. Liz got the message and took a hold of the man’s feet and lifted them off the ground.
”Hey...” Liz said softly, feeling the strongest urge to want to remove that fear from his eyes.
”Where am I?” he croaked, his voice dry, though he already knew the answer.
”You’re in my apartment,” Liz answered, simultaneously reaching for something behind her. She stretched out the glass of water for him to take. ”Here, drink some water.”
He accepted the glass - his movements cautious. As he had removed the glass from her hand, Liz leaned backwards against the back of the chair again - her eyes not leaving him for a second.
”Why am I here?” he asked, after some gulps of the water.
”I found you in an alley. You had some kind of seizure - I thought it might be epilepsy. Your tongue could fall back in your throat - blocking your air-ways. I had to do something. So I called a friend from work, and we brought you here.”
”How long have I been out?”
She glanced at the watch positioned around her wrist. ”For about one hour.”
”I have to go,” he said and started to rise from his horizontal position. That’s when he noticed that he had barely any clothes on.
”You were all wet,” she informed him as if she had read his mind, and a faint blush grazed her cheeks. ”I’ve hung them to dry in my bathroom. I could’ve put them in the drier which is in the basement - but then I had to leave you alone. And I didn’t want to do that. I wasn’t sure if your seizures would be returning. What was that anyway?”
He swallowed, and pulled the white covers up to cover his bare upper body some more. She had taken everything off - except his boxers.
”Uhm...yeah it was epilepsy,” he answered. He had no idea what he had done when he was unconscious. He could’ve said anything - she could’ve heard anything.
She nodded slowly, but from her blank expression he figured that she didn’t fully believe him.
”Are the clothes dry?” he asked, as silence started to spread itself over and between them.
She slowly shook her head.
”No, I don’t think so. Do you want something else to drink? Are you warm enough, ‘cause I can make you some tea,” she suggested.
He narrowed his eyes. It seemed as if she didn’t want him to leave.
She mentally whacked herself on her head for that one. It made it look like she wanted him to stay. Because she didn’t want that, did she? He had been all secretive, basically stalking her, and now this mysterious stranger was in her apartment – in her bed. She had put herself in a pretty vulnerable state. If he decided that he wanted to kill her, it would not be a hard thing to do. No one would hear - no one would see. But it was something about him that made her want to trust him.
”I really should get going,” he said slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. Was he staring at her? Yep, he was staring at her. But it made her all fuzzy inside. That was weird....
”I think my father has left some clothes here that you can borrow,” Liz said and rose from the bed. She took a robe that her father used to wear as he stayed with her and threw it on the bed. She could easily sense his discomfort at being half naked. He was glued to the bed - the covers almost up to his ears. Like she hadn’t seen him when she had undressed him. Her face went warm as her thoughts lingered to the memory of his well-defined chest, then she gave herself a mental shake.
”Here, take this on,” she said, before she moved to the closet to find some clothes.
He slowly crept out from underneath the covers, and slipped his arms into the robe. He shook off the feelings of loneliness as he left her scent behind him in the bed, and moved towards her.
”I’ll go check on my clothes in the bathroom,” he informed her.
”Are you really okay?” she asked, looking at him with the deepest concern in her eyes. He felt himself being trapped - captured - by those big dark eyes. ”Perhaps you shouldn’t be up walking yet.”
”No, it’s okay,” he answered, shrugging. ”I’m fine.”
He tore his eyes away from hers and moved out of the bedroom. His eyes darted around the apartment - trying to localize the bathroom.
”On your right, second door,” her voice reached his ears. He walked into the bathroom. It was small, but cozy. Very personal. He could feel her all around him. He spotted his clothes hanging from the thin wire that held up the shower curtain. They were definitely not dry. But with one sweep of his hand, the water evaporated and the clothes dried. He took down the clothes and started to dress.
Liz couldn’t hide her surprise as she saw him walk into the bedroom, wearing his jeans and his shirt - his very dry jeans and shirts. She might not know much about clothes - but at least she knew that jeans took a long time to dry, especially if they had been as soaked as they had been.
”They had dried,” he informed her.
”I can see that,” she said. Something was way off here. ”Uhm... do you want something to eat - something to drink?” She didn’t know why she was stressing those things. It was as if she was trying to come up with suggestions to make him stay.
”No, I-I need to get going, really. Someone’s waiting for me, probably very worried right now.”
”Yeah, I can understand that. Can you just answer one question first.”
He wasn’t so sure he wanted to.
”Sure,” he said.
”Why do you keep following me?”
And there it was.
”I-I don’t follow you,” he answered. Yeah, great going there, Einstein! He thought. She will never see through that lie!
”How do you know that I’m in danger?” she asked.
”You mean the rapist...well, I was just passing by and I saw you,” he answered. She didn’t look convinced.
”Maybe. But what about the first time? You practically attacked me - just to say that I was in danger. Not really the best way to inspire confidence. Maybe you should change your methods of how you inform people.”
He didn’t answer, and his eyes were glued to the floor.
”I really need to go,” he said, and turned to walk out but her hand on his arm stop him. He could almost feel the softness of her hand burning through his shirt.
”Wait,” she said. He inhaled deeply and slowly before he turned around.
Please don’t leave me
”You can’t just continue stalking me. Why are you doing that?” she asked.
He swallowed. ”I need to protect you,” he mumbled, almost inaudible.
”From what?” she asked - feeling fear seizing her.
”I don’t know,” he answered and looked directly at her. His eyes were so intense that she forgot to take the next breath. He was hurting. Not physical pain, but emotional. She got the strongest feeling that she wanted to calm him again. Make him understand that she was not in danger, and that everything was going to be okay. She wanted to remove the haunted look in those beautiful eyes of his. ”That’s why I keep following you around. I don’t know where something is going to happen. I don’t know who is going to do it - if there even is a who. I don’t know what is going to happen or when. I just now that something is about to happen to you...and I have to stop it.”
She stared at him, thoughts swirling around in her head. She didn’t know him, but she could tell that he was telling the truth by the difficulty he had to get the words out and the inability to hide the hurt and sadness from seeping into every word.
”How do you know this?” she asked, her voice thin.
He looked away then, leaving her feeling cold without his intense eyes caressing her face.
“Are you...like..”
Max looked up at her as her voice trailed off. Did she know? The silence was aching between them – stretching until he barely could let his breath out to inhale anew. He could hear the pounding of his heart in his ears.
“Are you...psychic?” she asked.
He felt relief float him – but simultaneously he was disappointed. Disappointed that she was able to give him a good explanation to hide behind.
A good lie.
Somehow he felt the strongest unease lying to her, and that puzzled him since keeping secrets had become an integrated part of his personality. Something that he had to do every day of his life just to keep safe. To protect himself from whatever – whoever – wanted him dead. He nodded his head in answer to her question.
“Something like that,” he mumbled.
She was just staring at him, but she didn’t look surprised. He could only find calmness in her eyes.
Understanding.
She smiled slightly as she saw him relax – the tension so evident in his shoulders evaporating.
“What’s your name?” she asked. And it was really a natural question. Their paths had crossed three times and they didn’t yet know each others’ names. Nevertheless, the question seemed so much more important. As if something was about to happen. As if something was about to change.
“Max,” he answered.
“Thank you, Max,” Liz said softly. “Thank you for trying to protect me.”
He just nodded slightly, his body more or less paralyzed by the glow in her eyes. Her soft smile felt as if it was thawing parts of his heart that had never been awake.
That had been frozen.
“I-I should go,” Max said again without making any indication that he was actually going to walk towards the front door. His feet were glued to the floor, his eyes being drawn in by hers. It was the panic that flashed in her eyes as he spoke that woke him from his mental slumber.
Please don’t leave me
She felt the strangest feeling encircling her – pulling her down and almost drowning her. The phrase from her dream flashed through her mind. Not buried deeply enough to not find its way up into her awareness. A numbness was slowly creeping inside her body as she mustered up a smile – composing herself. Hiding her feelings from the outside world.
“Yeah,” she said, and he wondered if that flicker of panic that he had seen in her eyes had even been there to begin with or if he had just imagined it. He suddenly felt that he shouldn’t leave. That he should tell her more. Something was pulling inside of him – pushing to be realized. Something instinctive. But since his first conscious day on this Earth he had known that instincts meant alien. And alien meant something he wasn’t comfortable about. A side that he hated.
The unknown.
He turned and walked towards the front door – feeling as he made the biggest mistake ever. She was watching his back move away from her.
Please don’t leave me
She tried to shake the deep feelings of dread, and reached for that part inside of her that was the calm and composed part of her. She took a firm grip on it, trying to stop herself from falling – plummeting to a part where she didn’t recognize her feelings. Somewhere away from the familiar. She could feel the calmness supporting her – spreading into her, and she waited for the relief that always accompanied it. But it never came. The fear was still there – like an impenetrable wall that she had no permission to penetrate. That she had no right to take down. It was trying to tell her something, but she couldn’t listen. She couldn’t. She couldn’t ignore that it felt as if something that had been building inside of her the last couple of hours was hastily mouldering – crumbling away into nothingness. Hopelessness.
But then he stopped, with his hand clutching down on the door handle, and turned towards her.
“Please...be careful.”
Please....stay safe
She looked into his beautiful eyes, which were still harboring the fear that she wanted to take away, but there was also something there that she couldn’t quite understand. But I made her feel safe, and all she wanted to do was to ease his mind. She nodded slowly.
“I promise,” she said. She could see how he seemed to relax somewhat, and then he turned again and without another word he opened the door and walked out of her apartment.
She closed her eyes, trying to fight off all the images from her nightmare that kept trying to invade her. She had always been able to forget her nightmares...it was difficult, but with time comes habits and she was pretty good at it by now. But this nightmare wouldn’t let go off her. She couldn’t explain why but it was as if it had been triggered by this Max somehow. That Max had awakened the nightmare anew, in an effort to try to get her to listen...
Max knuckles lightly impacted the wooden door – giving off a knocking sound – before he opened the door slowly and as quietly as he could. She might be asleep and he didn’t want to wake her. As he walked into the room, he was overwhelmed by the stuffy air of the room. It was radiating with sickness. He saw her laying in her bed – looking awfully small under the layers of covers that were spread over her. She turned her head towards him, and tried to smile. But she was too tired.
“Hi beautiful,” Max said gently, as he slowly made his way up to her bed. “How are you feeling?”
She closed her eyes, and then opened them again before she answered. As if the mere strain of conjuring up an answer forced her to gather her strength. “Like I’ve been through a mincing-machine.” Her voice was strained, barely above a whisper. He kneeled beside her bed, his heart aching for her, and tenderly removed some of the damp tresses that were sticking to her sleek forehead with his hand.
“That bad, huh?” he asked.
She coughed then, and Max couldn’t stop himself from wincing at the raspy and painful sound of it. He could literally feel her stepping closer and closer to the brink of death. She was running a fever. Her cheeks were flushed, looking almost misplaced in her deathly pale and emaciated face. Beads of perspiration were covering her forehead. She had lost a lot of hair during the chemotherapy, and she looked like a pale reminiscent of herself. Almost unrecognizable in comparison to the energy ball who had loved life. She was now resting at her home. She had ended the chemotherapy a week ago. The side-effects had been too tormenting, and she had finally reached the decision that she would rather trade the chemotherapy for living without its side-effects than maybe gaining some more time here on Earth. Because it was final. She was dying, and the chemotherapy could only prolong her lifetime with maybe a month...tops. She wanted something that resembled life the last days of her existence. She didn’t want to throw up until she fainted, she didn’t want to feel as if her head was repeatedly being thrown into a wall. She wanted to spend her last days as akin to normalcy as she could. Experiencing every last breath and cherishing every last touch. But her body was so cold – even with the heat of the fever cursing through her worn body.
Her body was fighting her, and she was giving up on resisting. Max had reached his decision, and it was now or never – literally.
“Maria, I want to try something,” he said.
“What?” she whispered, her breathing coming in quick puffs as the violent cough had depleted her energy.
“Do you trust me Maria?”
She didn’t know why, but that question unsettled her and she gathered her energy to open her eyes and search his face. He looked different. It was still the same warm and secure amber eyes. It was still the same boy that had helped her when she had fallen off the swinging-set when they were seven – his features were mainly changed.
“Of course... I trust you...Max,” she got out, the strain of the coughing still plaguing her lungs and her ability to get air into her lungs long enough to form words.
“I need you to relax, Maria,” Max said softly and Maria was puzzled by the fear that she saw on his face. What was going on? She wanted to lift her hand and put it on his cheek – to calm him. But she couldn’t. Her body wasn’t co-operating with her mind any longer. It was giving up on her – leaving her to the mercy of the menacing abnormal cell growth that was invading her body, spreading at an tremendous rate with every passing second.
“What’s....” She coughed, and Max reached for the glass of water on her beside table. He put his hand behind her head and lifted it up – supporting it as he put the glass to her sore lips and moistened her burning throat with the cool and lean water.
“What’s...wrong?” she asked as he removed the glass.
“Just trust me, Maria. I’m going to make you feel better.”
What? He was going to make her feel better? How was he-
But as her incoherent thoughts tumbled around in her tired mind, his soft voice put a stop to it as he voiced his request. The request that would signify the beginning of something that would change her life forever.
“You have to look into my eyes, Maria.” His hand was still behind her neck from helping her drink the water, and she felt something like a tingly sensation.
Her answer was subtle, but he could read her so well that the small change of her features gave him the answer he wanted.
“Just...take a deep breath and let your mind go blank,” Max said gently.
Maria tried her best to focus on some sort of calmness inside of her, while she simultaneously tried to force the confusing feelings and thoughts at Max’s odd behavior to the back of her head. The last coherent thought she had was that she had never before noticed the intensity of Max’s eyes, then she felt warmth flow through her. Well, that wasn’t quite the right word either. She felt like energy was being surged into her. She felt like she was a big battery, being recharged with a huge generator. However, as quick as it had started it was over – to her. To Max it had been an tremendous demand on his body. He could barely stand up as he moved his hands away from her body. He staggered over to a chair – his breathing erratic, his forehead glittering in the sun that bathed in through the windows.
She was looking at him – confused. Her pain was gone.
Dissolved.
She felt light as a feather, and she didn’t think that her physical body had ever felt this good. As her body slowly accustomed itself to its new healthy state, her mind started to pick up and puzzle together what just had happened. Her mouth was hanging open, her eyes fixed on him as if she just looked at him hard enough it would be revealed to her what had just happened. What he had done to her. Because he had done something to her. Something that wasn’t....
Something abnormal.
And that scared her. Knowing that she had known the person that was hunching over in the chair practically all her life – without really knowing him.
“What did you do?” she whispered – her voice unrecognizable.
He looked up at her then, and her heart broke as she saw the fear in his eyes.
“I...I healed you,” he answered, the strong but quiet man she was used to crumbling down in front of her eyes.
“Wh..how?” she asked mechanically. Her voice dripped with confusion, but she was trying – really trying - to understand. Her first instinct was to run away. But this was Max. The same person who had always been there for her. Had always stood up for her. Had protected her. The same person who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Her heart knew that he wasn’t dangerous – that she couldn’t fear him. But her mind was whispering inside of her head – trying to convince her not to trust him. To get those legs (which now – thanks to Max – were working just fine) moving towards the door and tell someone. Anyone.
He was staring at the floor, and as well as she knew him, she knew that he was feeling guilty. Why, she couldn’t understand. And he was afraid. Maybe just as afraid of her as she was of him.
“I couldn’t let you die,” Max said as his eyes were staring at the floor, his voice so soft that she barely heard it. However, the silence was so thick between them that it would’ve been impossible to miss.
“I-I don’t understand,” Maria said as she slowly rose into sitting position, and slowly pulled the covers off her body – testing the strength in her arms and her legs. Only the strength to hold up her head amazed her.
“I’m not like other people, Maria,” Max said, and looked up as he heard the soft brushing sound of her bare feet touching the wooden floor. She was walking towards him – somewhat staggering. The insecure movements were nevertheless not caused by sickness or lack of strength but the amount of emotions that were running through her. She stopped about a meter from him – her heart wanting to take his fears and insecurities away. Wanting to reassure him that he was still the same to her and that whatever he was could never frighten her. But there was still some part deep down in her body – in her mind – that feared him. Feared the unknown. A deep fear of the incomprehensible.
“Who are you?” she asked slowly – inwardly wincing at how mistrusting her voice sounded. She realized that it even carried some hint of disgust.
“I’m not...normal,” Max said, wondering how he should tell her. How did you tell one of your best friend that you were not human - that you were an alien? If it hadn’t been his life he would probably have been laughing at the ridicule of the situation. But this was his life. He had lived every second of it. Had endured every paranoid glance over his shoulder, every nightmare of being tortured by people in black suits, every lie he had to tell his parents – his friends...Maria. Now there wouldn’t been any lies any longer. Everything was really only one lie...but unfortunately that lie was his whole life. He was afraid. Afraid that she would turn her back on him. Afraid that she would look at him differently. Afraid that she would do all the things that she had already done. Look at him...in fear – disgust. He could lose her. But he wasn’t willing to continue lying to her. That time had passed.
“Max...I don’t understand,” Maria whispered, trying to get herself to go closer to him – but something kept her standing frozen in her place about one meter away from him.
“You know the weather balloon that fell,” Max said.
Maria furrowed her brows in confusion. What the hell was he doing? Why was he starting to talk about weather balloons at a time like this? When all her existential beliefs had been questioned.
“What are you talking about, Max?”
“In 1947,” Max insisted, and it was something in his pleading look that drowned her annoyance.
“Yeah...the crash,” she said, willing to go along with this – although she had no clue as to what he was aiming at.
“I was in the crash,” Max said.
“What? You were in the crash?” Maria exclaimed, her voice greater in intensity. ”You’re a little too young to be in a crash that happened 1947.” She didn’t really think of what his statement really meant.
Max winced at her disbelief – at the ridicule he heard draping her words.
He nodded slowly.
“I’m not human, Maria,” Max said.
Maria stared at him for what seemed as an eternity, before the sides of her mouth started to twitch – and it was Max’s turn to helplessly stare at her in disbelief as she started laughing. Funny, it all had gone much better when he had imagined it in his head. Her laughter intensified, making her double over.
“Yeah...then”
gasp for air from the fit of laughter
“what”
gasp
“are you? A mouse?”
She started laughing even harder. Max just sat there, wondering what he had done to deserve this kind of fate.
She looked up for a second, and her laughter was abruptly cut off as she caught the look in his eyes. The silence lowered itself over them again as hastily as you switch off a lamp.
“I’m an alien, Maria.”
Now she was not laughing. She was shocked. She looked like she was going to faint. Or run out of the room.
”You’re kidding,” she whispered, trying to make an adamant statement but her trembling voice giving her away. She even tried to get back the humor to her. Humor was good - humor meant that you didn’t have to face the reality. But she couldn’t. She knew that this was real. She knew that he was real. And she realized that she wasn’t going to run away - she was going to stand by him.
”I cannot say that I understand, Max,” she said slowly. ”I want to laugh at it all...but I know that...somehow... it’s true. I’m free from incurable cancer. Incurable. And you put your hand on me and I’m healthy again. So...the only plausible explanation really is that you’re an...an...alien.” The word felt strange on her tongue. Living in Roswell that word was a part of her daily vocabulary. But now the word had acquired another meaning. It wasn’t any longer something ridiculous. It was something that actually existed. Existed in a boy that was more human than anyone else she had ever known...
