Re: The Offer (CC ALL, YTEEN) Ch. 35.2 - pg. 11 - 12 / 7
Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2008 8:02 pm
Hey again!
Because I actually managed to update three days after the last part (yay me!!), please make sure you did read part 35.2 on page 11 (Isabel's part). Thank you all for your time!! And I will answer that feedback soon!
XXXV
David
Cont.
* * *
Maria’s giggles were infectious, Max had to admit, as he couldn’t stop a smile escaping his lips. They were now the two sole habitants of the living room, the fire in the chimney making this a very cozy place. Wrappings were around, a half eaten piece of cake in front of her. She was sitting on the couch, legs beneath her, trying to stifle yet another laugh.
“This is the best book ever,” she said out loud to no one in particular, making Max smile again. Jake’s book about zodiac signs had definitely been a hit with the blonde girl, and though Max himself knew Michael was right about this being illogical, he was intrigued all the same.
Now she was happily reading “Man Sagittarius – Woman Aquarius”, and was having one hell of a time, claiming the book described Michael –and her- to the last personal detail. Max was sitting besides her, trying to see if his best friend was really somewhere between those lines.
Behind them, Kyle, Liz and Michael were playing pool as if the world depended on it.
It was one of those weird facts that Max had always known at the back of his mind –that Michael and Liz were both good pool players- but there had never been a pool table to play on for his wife and best friend to learn the other played. Still, with all the presents open, all the cake eaten, and the lonely pool table at their backs, one thing had led to the other.
Get Kyle into the mix, and the game had escalated from a friendly show off to a full blown war.
Isabel had excused herself to one of the rooms, since she was really tired. Liz had shot Max a questioning look that had said loud and clear, shouldn’t you be doing the same? He had smiled at her concern, and had shook his head no. He wasn’t tired at all. He should be, he knew, because he had barely slept… what? Fifteen, twenty minutes? But now he felt well and alert, if maybe a little sparkly. So instead he had started to watch the game, which had gotten boring really fast.
He wouldn’t have minded watching Liz play any given day, but all three of them would take an absurdly long time to plan their shots that soon Maria’s laugh had lured him away from the battle field. Maria had slightly shifted her posture to let him read as she was reading too, not bothering to ask him what he was doing there or why.
“Hey Girlfriend, you don’t get depressed about Liz, I won’t get depressed about Michael and all your alien crap, deal?" Maria had said once on that long summer from hell, placing a Cherry Coke in front of him. That was how Maria was, the kind of friend who knew when to whack him, and when to give him comfort food. It had lasted for about two seconds, after which he had asked if she had heard about Liz and she had said Michael was an idiot and that he wasn’t returning her calls.
He unconsciously placed his right hand over his left hand, needing to feel the reassurance of his wedding band. He absently smiled at the happy nudge he got from Liz as she was winning the game. By his side, Maria reached for the half piece of cake in front of her.
Behind him, he heard Kyle warning Michael that he had sworn he wouldn’t use his powers. Maria smiled at that as she rolled her eyes, placing the cake back on the table.
“You know, you and I wouldn’t even last three days,” Maria had stated one warm night around the middle of that summer. She had wanted to talk to him so he would please, please, please, explain to her what the hell was wrong with Michael. As they had been stargazing over the jeep, she had said that out of the blue. He could see why: He was too passive and she was too speedy. The combination sort of worked with their respective best friends: she with Liz and him with Michael… but not for them, at least not as a couple. A second later, she had said as an afterthought: Michael and Liz wouldn’t even last three hours… Max had laughed out loud for the first time in two months, Maria following him with a giggling fit. No, logical Liz with impulsive Michael…
“You never told Spaceboy Liz is a pool shark, did you?” Maria quietly asked him, effectively bringing him to the present.
“It’s sort of one of those things that never come up in a conversation…” Max explained as he rubbed his right earlobe and slightly smiled. She smiled as well, and then returned to her book. As she did so, she shifted her legs to settle in a more comfortable way, and then abruptly stopped.
“Ouch, ouch, ouch…” she said as she carefully moved her right leg from beneath her and sort of stood with one knee on the couch, and one foot on the floor. “God, I forgot! I took this from Dave’s office,” she said as she took something out of her right pocket. “I thought maybe one of you guys could get a flash or something out of it.”
In her hand was a plain black pencil. By the size of it, it had probably been used a lot. Its sharp point had jabbed Maria’s leg, making it impossible to ignore any longer.
Behind them, the pool game stopped. No more clock- clock sound as the balls collided against each other. Max didn’t even think about it. He reached for the pencil debating if he should go to wake up Isabel or wait a little longer, and was about to ask Michael’s opinion when he took it from Maria’s hand.
And then everything changed.
Everything.
He was no longer in the hut with Maria standing beside him, and Michael, Kyle and Liz looking expectantly at him. There were no happy birthday decorations or half eaten cake. It wasn’t even winter.
It wasn't even the United States.
Later, he wouldn't be able to recall how exactly he knew all these details, just that he had known. He was in a room with both Jake and Ray, somewhere in a very high apartment building. The floor was polished wood, the living room had very big and expensive-looking black couches. It was night, so the city outside was made of a million dots of light. He was only a ghost in this flash, but he still felt awkward and out of place, having to gain his bearings as if he had just teleported to this place and time. In a sense, he had.
"When you have to give a gift to someone who can have anything, you have to be creative," Jake was telling Ray, as he was unwrapping a set of a dozen black pencils, all looking alike. All looking like the one Max had in his hand. Jake took one and placed it aside, and then started to re-wrap the remaining eleven.
"That's part of 'creative'?" Ray asked, his eyes following Jake's moves.
"He doesn't like the number 12," Jake explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"I take it eleven is a safe one then?" Ray said, arching his eyebrows.
"All prime numbers are safe ones..." Jake absently replied, and then added as an afterthought, "Thirty-five is not a prime number... he's not going to like this birthday... Last one he got was thirty-one, and now he has to wait till thirty-seven for another prime—"
Without a warning, not even a sound, the flash changed as Jake stopped touching the pencil. Max was in another room, in another time, in another city. It was Dave who sat writing with the black pencil, the study where he was spotless and impersonal. Cold. That was the word Dave had used when he had talked to Jake a few minutes ago. The place was emotionally cold, but it would have to do for this trip. And it was quiet, so it was good for making notes for his upcoming meeting.
He was writing in Arabic, Max noticed as he moved through the flash to stand by Dave. It was so weird to see someone writing in the opposite direction. Susset would call any minute now with the week’s update about the projects she supervised. By his side, Dave eyed the folder he had received earlier in the day. He made a point of knowing all things unusual noted by his research companies, and this certainly qualified as such. A strange high-energy microwave signal, the second one they had tracked that year. Aliens. Of all the things he had thought he would or could discover in his lifetime, this wasn’t on that list. Who was talking to them? And more importantly, what was being said?
The phone rang, and Dave let go of the pencil. The room shifted, making Max dizzy for a second. He focused again on Dave, this time sitting in a leather seat of a private jet. The black pencil was in his hand, of course, and he was drawing circles around something on a piece of paper.
Roswell, New Mexico.
One of the divisions at his genetics companies had been anonymously hired to research a dress with a bullet hole. It had taken some time –and some money- but he had found out that the dress was from Roswell, New Mexico. Aliens again, Dave thought as he looked out of the window. It wasn’t that he believed there were aliens involved in the dress research, but the town in the middle of the desert certainly reminded him of the microwave signal. Nothing else had been found since the signal had been tracked a month before, and frankly, Dave didn’t think he would get to see it again.
He frowned. Maybe Jake would be interested in this bullet-hole mystery. Dave had read the file because something unusual had been found, but biology was not his strongest subject. He had way more interest in interstellar travelling and communication than some weird genes.
“A drink?” the stewardess asked him, coming from behind. Max looked at her, almost afraid that she was going to look at him, but just as he did so, Dave set the pencil aside to receive his Coke.
This time, Max was almost prepared for the shift. He still felt as if someone had spun him around way too fast, but he was eager to know more. To Max’s surprise, it was a woman who was holding the pencil this time. It was Paris, and it was Christmas, he could tell by the decorations. The very spacious apartment was very well organized and clean. Folded over a coffee table lie the wrapping of gifts that were already set in their rightful places. The woman in front of him was around her 30’s, with dark, red hair in a ponytail, a slim figure and very big, very green eyes. She was wearing sport clothes, and she had been interrupted in the middle of her routine. She was now on the phone, taking notes with the black pencil.
“—Got it. Phoenix, Arizona,” she said, writing it now in neat, small handwriting. “You know Dave, it might just be a scam from the media or the hospital… Christmas is a great time to pull stuff like this…” she said in a practical tone as she continued making notations. Call Ian to see about the records. She was already planning how to get the security tapes that Dave had just requested. Ian would be delighted. A job for Dave meant really good money, and the guy needed it. She kept listening to whatever Dave was saying, and she added, list of everyone involved.
“It might take a few weeks to analyze the videos, though… Assuming there’s something to analyze…” she said, trying to think who was the closest photo analyst to Arizona. She wrote down two names, glancing at her laptop at the other side of the living room.
She abruptly stopped at something Dave had said, and then looked down at her hand and the black pencil. “Oh, yes, you left it here. I’m actually writing with it.” She smiled shaking her head. She was sure that she would have to send the pencil via DHL if it weren’t for the fact that she would meet with Dave in two days. The guy did love his pencils, it would seem. He had so many quirks, and Jake was no better.
She threw the pencil to the couch in favor of her computer, and everything disappeared into darkness.
For one second, Max felt as if he had been left in limbo, with no way out. He started to worry, the darkness feeling too oppressive, when he saw a lamp being turned on in front of him. The flash had changed into a bedroom, more windows showing he was at an apartment in a city, lights bright in the dark sky. Night again… late at night.
Dave was the one turning the light on, the pencil already in his hand as he also fetched a notebook he kept by his bed. God, he hated jetlag. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t concentrate; he felt half-sick, half-exhausted because he wasn’t able to properly sleep or eat and, frankly, he generally felt like crap. So he turned to his beloved numbers, and started writing some new security codes, then changed to some obscure math problem, then changed again to the security codes, then again to something he was researching, all in the space of twelve seconds. Anything to get his mind in order and restore his internal clock. He went from one problem to the other, his hand too slow to the speed of his mind, ideas forming and then collapsing as others claimed his attention.
Max’s mind went blank. Trying to follow the sense of Dave’s chaotic mind was useless. He could barely understand the concepts behind Dave’s numbers, let alone analyze them at the speed they were coming and disappearing. He was losing the flash but he willed himself to remain there, something he had never done. It was one thing to concentrate enough to get a flash, and another entirely to cling to the one he already had.
He thought for a second someone was calling his name.
A phone rang, and for one instant Dave’s numbers turned to the mathematical formula of the sound, drawing Max’s mind out of his own thoughts and into Dave’s. The only reason Dave had learned to play the piano was because of the mathematical nature of music. He still felt disoriented in this nine hour jetlag, but the reason behind the call intrigued him. So few people had this number, it had to be important.
He checked the ID and then frowned. A Messenger.
“What’ve you got?” Dave answered a second later, the pencil now motionless in his left hand. Messengers only called in emergencies, and he had very few projects now where any information could be considered an emergency.
“You’ve got the main leads of the Phoenix videotape by now?” the voice anxiously asked. Messengers were distrustful types by nature, but they all sounded anxious when they were talking to him. He absently made a question mark in the notebook, wondering why it was always like that.
“Yes, two days ago,” Dave said, his eyes flashing to a manila folder out of reach on a shelf by the wall. Max followed Dave’s gaze to it, knowing that if he could open it, he would find a picture of Michael and himself walking down the hall at the Phoenix hospital. Now that Dave’s mind was going at normal speed, Max could pick these things up. Before leaving his last location, Dave had shared this information with Ray. By this time, Ray was probably setting up camp in Roswell.
“I think there’s another lead…” the Messenger said, lowering his voice, “a dangerous one.”
A dangerous lead meant one that had the resources to follow the trail back to Dave. All Messengers considered this an emergency situation that had to be reported and needed Dave’s awareness and approval. Though discovery was always a possibility in their line of work, rarely what they knew alone was enough to jeopardize Dave’s business. But now he was dealing with aliens, wasn't he? He had to be better prepared to deal with these situations and the people that came with them.
"Explain," Dave said as he got up from the bed, leaving the notebook aside, and a second later, the pencil as well.
The brightness of the place that took shape instead of the shadowy bedroom made Max automatically squint. It was outdoors, a country club maybe, though this Max deduced because Dave's thoughts were anywhere but in the place he was at. The pencil in his hand drummed anxiously away as Dave waited for someone to pick up the phone.
Jake.
The pencil stilled in his hand as his friend finally answered. They hadn't seen each other for a few months, not since Jake's birthday. He wished he was calling for something else, anything else… Instead, this call felt somehow like a setup. He was setting Jake up for something Dave himself wasn't so sure about. But who else can I ask? Dave thought as they exchanged greetings. This is too important for anyone else to handle. And he’s the only one I can trust to continue if I can’t.
“You know, I have the perfect project for you,” Dave cut to the chase, his calm voice belying the uncertainty he felt. This was the point of no return. Even if Jake said no, he had already at least tried to set him up.
Max couldn’t hear what Jake was answering, but he could feel what Dave felt. Jake was joking on the other side, and Dave wished he wouldn’t. Not now, not when he was telling him half truths and steering him where he wanted.
“Maybe both,” Dave answered to some unheard question, and for the briefest of moments he thought that maybe Jake would know better how to handle the situation. Jake was older than him, and had wonderful people skills. Maybe Jake had what was needed to change things.
“What if I tell you that—” Dave started, his mind following his train of thought. That things aren’t what they look like, and I have stumbled onto something bigger than anything else on this planet?
There was a menace, a dark fear inside Dave’s mind that clouded and wiped this thought as it was barely forming. No, he couldn’t risk Jake any more than he was already. In time, hopefully, Jake would know. “—that camera you’ve been working on on weekends has a lot of potential with this project?” he finished his question.
He was baiting Jake and his friend rose to the occasion. It both pleased him and saddened him. If Jake had said no, what would he do? Did he even have a choice of not convincing his friend?
“No,” Dave laughed, fully into the charade, “I was thinking more along the lines the Russians did when they first developed it.”
The special lens, Max knew. They were talking about the camera in Jake’s lab that took those weird images of Max, Michael and Isabel’s energy. The one that showed them in bright blues and light-blues. The one that could have picked up something from Liz right this morning.
Max… he heard Liz’s whisper coming from somewhere he couldn’t quite pin down, but he didn’t let himself get distracted. Why was Dave afraid of bringing in Jake?
“Well, I am now,” Dave continued in his one sided conversation. “Would you be interested in working with…” he trailed off, searching for the right words… Searching for a way out of this, and not dragging Jake into this abyss. “How do you say it? ‘Gifted’ kids?”
He placed the pencil in front of him, but didn’t let it go. How ironic, it was one of Jake’s presents from two years ago. So many things had changed since then. No, he told himself sternly, if there’s someone who can handle this, it’s Jake. If worst comes to worst, he’ll know what to do. He’ll know how to protect them. He let go of the pencil then as he stood up, eager now to tell his friend exactly how gifted these kids were.
Eagerness filled the room where Max found himself an instant later. Eagerness and purpose. This time Max felt dizzy. From total openness to this enclosed space; from doubt and anxiety to this burst of energy from whoever was there. He blindly searched for something to hold until the room stopped spinning. He grabbed a chair. A tall, black, leather chair, and as he looked down, he had to do a double take.
Maria.
She was standing in front of him, her back to him, as she was retrieving something from a drawer. The desk in front of them was covered with an absurdly huge puzzle. Dave’s office, Max thought, as he watched Maria silently closing the drawer and hiding the pencil in her right pocket.
She was both scared and thrilled. She had gone through all the drawers, had searched for any clue she could, and now all she had left was the trash can. She was proud of herself. Proud of doing whatever she could to help them, but she was also disappointed she hadn’t been able to find more. To know more.
To keep them safe.
The dizziness hadn’t stopped. As he watched Maria looking at the trash can, he felt himself falling, losing the flash altogether, and there was nothing he could do to hold on. He had no energy left. Darkness enveloped him as a buzzing started in his ears.
“Max! Goddamnit, wake up!” Michael’s words rushed into Max’s consciousness almost as fiercely as Michael’s shaking him did, holding him so tight by the shoulders that it hurt. Max automatically reached with his hands to Michael’s so he would stop.
“He’s awake!” came Liz’s relieved voice a second too late as Max touched Michael. All the lamps in the living room brightened for an instant before the bulbs exploded in a shower of sparks and shattered pieces, a telltale sign of Max’s and Michael’s energy colliding in a stressful moment. Everyone jumped except Max who was pinned down to the couch, and Michael who didn’t seem to care.
They both locked into each others eyes for a second, as Michael was making sure that Max was really awake and hopefully okay. He nodded once, and let him go, though through their loosely formed connection Max could feel something along the lines of “God, don’t scare me like that”, and then turning to look at the lamps, Michael felt annoyed.
“Are you all right?” Liz said, taking Michael’s place in front of Max. “You sort of fainted for a minute there…” his wife explained to him as he looked blank. This was not a flash anymore, and the dizziness was almost gone by now. He blinked a couple of times, and then nodded to reassure Liz and the others that he was fine. He turned his attention to his right hand, where he had enclosed the pencil. As he opened his fist, only ashes met his eyes.
“We have to talk,” he said, already sorting out the important facts and trying to tie in the little information they already had on Dave.
“Yes we do,” Isabel’s voice said from behind. She was far from looking rested, and Max just knew she had been dreamwalking. It didn’t take much to figure out who the likely candidates were.
He had a feeling that things were just about to change perspective, but he wasn’t sure if he was going to like that or not.
* * *
Author’s Note: The conversation that Max hears between Jake and Dave was already recalled by Jake on chapter 14, just in case you want to read the whole conversation again and see Jake’s POV.
Because I actually managed to update three days after the last part (yay me!!), please make sure you did read part 35.2 on page 11 (Isabel's part). Thank you all for your time!! And I will answer that feedback soon!
XXXV
David
Cont.
* * *
Maria’s giggles were infectious, Max had to admit, as he couldn’t stop a smile escaping his lips. They were now the two sole habitants of the living room, the fire in the chimney making this a very cozy place. Wrappings were around, a half eaten piece of cake in front of her. She was sitting on the couch, legs beneath her, trying to stifle yet another laugh.
“This is the best book ever,” she said out loud to no one in particular, making Max smile again. Jake’s book about zodiac signs had definitely been a hit with the blonde girl, and though Max himself knew Michael was right about this being illogical, he was intrigued all the same.
Now she was happily reading “Man Sagittarius – Woman Aquarius”, and was having one hell of a time, claiming the book described Michael –and her- to the last personal detail. Max was sitting besides her, trying to see if his best friend was really somewhere between those lines.
Behind them, Kyle, Liz and Michael were playing pool as if the world depended on it.
It was one of those weird facts that Max had always known at the back of his mind –that Michael and Liz were both good pool players- but there had never been a pool table to play on for his wife and best friend to learn the other played. Still, with all the presents open, all the cake eaten, and the lonely pool table at their backs, one thing had led to the other.
Get Kyle into the mix, and the game had escalated from a friendly show off to a full blown war.
Isabel had excused herself to one of the rooms, since she was really tired. Liz had shot Max a questioning look that had said loud and clear, shouldn’t you be doing the same? He had smiled at her concern, and had shook his head no. He wasn’t tired at all. He should be, he knew, because he had barely slept… what? Fifteen, twenty minutes? But now he felt well and alert, if maybe a little sparkly. So instead he had started to watch the game, which had gotten boring really fast.
He wouldn’t have minded watching Liz play any given day, but all three of them would take an absurdly long time to plan their shots that soon Maria’s laugh had lured him away from the battle field. Maria had slightly shifted her posture to let him read as she was reading too, not bothering to ask him what he was doing there or why.
“Hey Girlfriend, you don’t get depressed about Liz, I won’t get depressed about Michael and all your alien crap, deal?" Maria had said once on that long summer from hell, placing a Cherry Coke in front of him. That was how Maria was, the kind of friend who knew when to whack him, and when to give him comfort food. It had lasted for about two seconds, after which he had asked if she had heard about Liz and she had said Michael was an idiot and that he wasn’t returning her calls.
He unconsciously placed his right hand over his left hand, needing to feel the reassurance of his wedding band. He absently smiled at the happy nudge he got from Liz as she was winning the game. By his side, Maria reached for the half piece of cake in front of her.
Behind him, he heard Kyle warning Michael that he had sworn he wouldn’t use his powers. Maria smiled at that as she rolled her eyes, placing the cake back on the table.
“You know, you and I wouldn’t even last three days,” Maria had stated one warm night around the middle of that summer. She had wanted to talk to him so he would please, please, please, explain to her what the hell was wrong with Michael. As they had been stargazing over the jeep, she had said that out of the blue. He could see why: He was too passive and she was too speedy. The combination sort of worked with their respective best friends: she with Liz and him with Michael… but not for them, at least not as a couple. A second later, she had said as an afterthought: Michael and Liz wouldn’t even last three hours… Max had laughed out loud for the first time in two months, Maria following him with a giggling fit. No, logical Liz with impulsive Michael…
“You never told Spaceboy Liz is a pool shark, did you?” Maria quietly asked him, effectively bringing him to the present.
“It’s sort of one of those things that never come up in a conversation…” Max explained as he rubbed his right earlobe and slightly smiled. She smiled as well, and then returned to her book. As she did so, she shifted her legs to settle in a more comfortable way, and then abruptly stopped.
“Ouch, ouch, ouch…” she said as she carefully moved her right leg from beneath her and sort of stood with one knee on the couch, and one foot on the floor. “God, I forgot! I took this from Dave’s office,” she said as she took something out of her right pocket. “I thought maybe one of you guys could get a flash or something out of it.”
In her hand was a plain black pencil. By the size of it, it had probably been used a lot. Its sharp point had jabbed Maria’s leg, making it impossible to ignore any longer.
Behind them, the pool game stopped. No more clock- clock sound as the balls collided against each other. Max didn’t even think about it. He reached for the pencil debating if he should go to wake up Isabel or wait a little longer, and was about to ask Michael’s opinion when he took it from Maria’s hand.
And then everything changed.
Everything.
He was no longer in the hut with Maria standing beside him, and Michael, Kyle and Liz looking expectantly at him. There were no happy birthday decorations or half eaten cake. It wasn’t even winter.
It wasn't even the United States.
Later, he wouldn't be able to recall how exactly he knew all these details, just that he had known. He was in a room with both Jake and Ray, somewhere in a very high apartment building. The floor was polished wood, the living room had very big and expensive-looking black couches. It was night, so the city outside was made of a million dots of light. He was only a ghost in this flash, but he still felt awkward and out of place, having to gain his bearings as if he had just teleported to this place and time. In a sense, he had.
"When you have to give a gift to someone who can have anything, you have to be creative," Jake was telling Ray, as he was unwrapping a set of a dozen black pencils, all looking alike. All looking like the one Max had in his hand. Jake took one and placed it aside, and then started to re-wrap the remaining eleven.
"That's part of 'creative'?" Ray asked, his eyes following Jake's moves.
"He doesn't like the number 12," Jake explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"I take it eleven is a safe one then?" Ray said, arching his eyebrows.
"All prime numbers are safe ones..." Jake absently replied, and then added as an afterthought, "Thirty-five is not a prime number... he's not going to like this birthday... Last one he got was thirty-one, and now he has to wait till thirty-seven for another prime—"
Without a warning, not even a sound, the flash changed as Jake stopped touching the pencil. Max was in another room, in another time, in another city. It was Dave who sat writing with the black pencil, the study where he was spotless and impersonal. Cold. That was the word Dave had used when he had talked to Jake a few minutes ago. The place was emotionally cold, but it would have to do for this trip. And it was quiet, so it was good for making notes for his upcoming meeting.
He was writing in Arabic, Max noticed as he moved through the flash to stand by Dave. It was so weird to see someone writing in the opposite direction. Susset would call any minute now with the week’s update about the projects she supervised. By his side, Dave eyed the folder he had received earlier in the day. He made a point of knowing all things unusual noted by his research companies, and this certainly qualified as such. A strange high-energy microwave signal, the second one they had tracked that year. Aliens. Of all the things he had thought he would or could discover in his lifetime, this wasn’t on that list. Who was talking to them? And more importantly, what was being said?
The phone rang, and Dave let go of the pencil. The room shifted, making Max dizzy for a second. He focused again on Dave, this time sitting in a leather seat of a private jet. The black pencil was in his hand, of course, and he was drawing circles around something on a piece of paper.
Roswell, New Mexico.
One of the divisions at his genetics companies had been anonymously hired to research a dress with a bullet hole. It had taken some time –and some money- but he had found out that the dress was from Roswell, New Mexico. Aliens again, Dave thought as he looked out of the window. It wasn’t that he believed there were aliens involved in the dress research, but the town in the middle of the desert certainly reminded him of the microwave signal. Nothing else had been found since the signal had been tracked a month before, and frankly, Dave didn’t think he would get to see it again.
He frowned. Maybe Jake would be interested in this bullet-hole mystery. Dave had read the file because something unusual had been found, but biology was not his strongest subject. He had way more interest in interstellar travelling and communication than some weird genes.
“A drink?” the stewardess asked him, coming from behind. Max looked at her, almost afraid that she was going to look at him, but just as he did so, Dave set the pencil aside to receive his Coke.
This time, Max was almost prepared for the shift. He still felt as if someone had spun him around way too fast, but he was eager to know more. To Max’s surprise, it was a woman who was holding the pencil this time. It was Paris, and it was Christmas, he could tell by the decorations. The very spacious apartment was very well organized and clean. Folded over a coffee table lie the wrapping of gifts that were already set in their rightful places. The woman in front of him was around her 30’s, with dark, red hair in a ponytail, a slim figure and very big, very green eyes. She was wearing sport clothes, and she had been interrupted in the middle of her routine. She was now on the phone, taking notes with the black pencil.
“—Got it. Phoenix, Arizona,” she said, writing it now in neat, small handwriting. “You know Dave, it might just be a scam from the media or the hospital… Christmas is a great time to pull stuff like this…” she said in a practical tone as she continued making notations. Call Ian to see about the records. She was already planning how to get the security tapes that Dave had just requested. Ian would be delighted. A job for Dave meant really good money, and the guy needed it. She kept listening to whatever Dave was saying, and she added, list of everyone involved.
“It might take a few weeks to analyze the videos, though… Assuming there’s something to analyze…” she said, trying to think who was the closest photo analyst to Arizona. She wrote down two names, glancing at her laptop at the other side of the living room.
She abruptly stopped at something Dave had said, and then looked down at her hand and the black pencil. “Oh, yes, you left it here. I’m actually writing with it.” She smiled shaking her head. She was sure that she would have to send the pencil via DHL if it weren’t for the fact that she would meet with Dave in two days. The guy did love his pencils, it would seem. He had so many quirks, and Jake was no better.
She threw the pencil to the couch in favor of her computer, and everything disappeared into darkness.
For one second, Max felt as if he had been left in limbo, with no way out. He started to worry, the darkness feeling too oppressive, when he saw a lamp being turned on in front of him. The flash had changed into a bedroom, more windows showing he was at an apartment in a city, lights bright in the dark sky. Night again… late at night.
Dave was the one turning the light on, the pencil already in his hand as he also fetched a notebook he kept by his bed. God, he hated jetlag. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t concentrate; he felt half-sick, half-exhausted because he wasn’t able to properly sleep or eat and, frankly, he generally felt like crap. So he turned to his beloved numbers, and started writing some new security codes, then changed to some obscure math problem, then changed again to the security codes, then again to something he was researching, all in the space of twelve seconds. Anything to get his mind in order and restore his internal clock. He went from one problem to the other, his hand too slow to the speed of his mind, ideas forming and then collapsing as others claimed his attention.
Max’s mind went blank. Trying to follow the sense of Dave’s chaotic mind was useless. He could barely understand the concepts behind Dave’s numbers, let alone analyze them at the speed they were coming and disappearing. He was losing the flash but he willed himself to remain there, something he had never done. It was one thing to concentrate enough to get a flash, and another entirely to cling to the one he already had.
He thought for a second someone was calling his name.
A phone rang, and for one instant Dave’s numbers turned to the mathematical formula of the sound, drawing Max’s mind out of his own thoughts and into Dave’s. The only reason Dave had learned to play the piano was because of the mathematical nature of music. He still felt disoriented in this nine hour jetlag, but the reason behind the call intrigued him. So few people had this number, it had to be important.
He checked the ID and then frowned. A Messenger.
“What’ve you got?” Dave answered a second later, the pencil now motionless in his left hand. Messengers only called in emergencies, and he had very few projects now where any information could be considered an emergency.
“You’ve got the main leads of the Phoenix videotape by now?” the voice anxiously asked. Messengers were distrustful types by nature, but they all sounded anxious when they were talking to him. He absently made a question mark in the notebook, wondering why it was always like that.
“Yes, two days ago,” Dave said, his eyes flashing to a manila folder out of reach on a shelf by the wall. Max followed Dave’s gaze to it, knowing that if he could open it, he would find a picture of Michael and himself walking down the hall at the Phoenix hospital. Now that Dave’s mind was going at normal speed, Max could pick these things up. Before leaving his last location, Dave had shared this information with Ray. By this time, Ray was probably setting up camp in Roswell.
“I think there’s another lead…” the Messenger said, lowering his voice, “a dangerous one.”
A dangerous lead meant one that had the resources to follow the trail back to Dave. All Messengers considered this an emergency situation that had to be reported and needed Dave’s awareness and approval. Though discovery was always a possibility in their line of work, rarely what they knew alone was enough to jeopardize Dave’s business. But now he was dealing with aliens, wasn't he? He had to be better prepared to deal with these situations and the people that came with them.
"Explain," Dave said as he got up from the bed, leaving the notebook aside, and a second later, the pencil as well.
The brightness of the place that took shape instead of the shadowy bedroom made Max automatically squint. It was outdoors, a country club maybe, though this Max deduced because Dave's thoughts were anywhere but in the place he was at. The pencil in his hand drummed anxiously away as Dave waited for someone to pick up the phone.
Jake.
The pencil stilled in his hand as his friend finally answered. They hadn't seen each other for a few months, not since Jake's birthday. He wished he was calling for something else, anything else… Instead, this call felt somehow like a setup. He was setting Jake up for something Dave himself wasn't so sure about. But who else can I ask? Dave thought as they exchanged greetings. This is too important for anyone else to handle. And he’s the only one I can trust to continue if I can’t.
“You know, I have the perfect project for you,” Dave cut to the chase, his calm voice belying the uncertainty he felt. This was the point of no return. Even if Jake said no, he had already at least tried to set him up.
Max couldn’t hear what Jake was answering, but he could feel what Dave felt. Jake was joking on the other side, and Dave wished he wouldn’t. Not now, not when he was telling him half truths and steering him where he wanted.
“Maybe both,” Dave answered to some unheard question, and for the briefest of moments he thought that maybe Jake would know better how to handle the situation. Jake was older than him, and had wonderful people skills. Maybe Jake had what was needed to change things.
“What if I tell you that—” Dave started, his mind following his train of thought. That things aren’t what they look like, and I have stumbled onto something bigger than anything else on this planet?
There was a menace, a dark fear inside Dave’s mind that clouded and wiped this thought as it was barely forming. No, he couldn’t risk Jake any more than he was already. In time, hopefully, Jake would know. “—that camera you’ve been working on on weekends has a lot of potential with this project?” he finished his question.
He was baiting Jake and his friend rose to the occasion. It both pleased him and saddened him. If Jake had said no, what would he do? Did he even have a choice of not convincing his friend?
“No,” Dave laughed, fully into the charade, “I was thinking more along the lines the Russians did when they first developed it.”
The special lens, Max knew. They were talking about the camera in Jake’s lab that took those weird images of Max, Michael and Isabel’s energy. The one that showed them in bright blues and light-blues. The one that could have picked up something from Liz right this morning.
Max… he heard Liz’s whisper coming from somewhere he couldn’t quite pin down, but he didn’t let himself get distracted. Why was Dave afraid of bringing in Jake?
“Well, I am now,” Dave continued in his one sided conversation. “Would you be interested in working with…” he trailed off, searching for the right words… Searching for a way out of this, and not dragging Jake into this abyss. “How do you say it? ‘Gifted’ kids?”
He placed the pencil in front of him, but didn’t let it go. How ironic, it was one of Jake’s presents from two years ago. So many things had changed since then. No, he told himself sternly, if there’s someone who can handle this, it’s Jake. If worst comes to worst, he’ll know what to do. He’ll know how to protect them. He let go of the pencil then as he stood up, eager now to tell his friend exactly how gifted these kids were.
Eagerness filled the room where Max found himself an instant later. Eagerness and purpose. This time Max felt dizzy. From total openness to this enclosed space; from doubt and anxiety to this burst of energy from whoever was there. He blindly searched for something to hold until the room stopped spinning. He grabbed a chair. A tall, black, leather chair, and as he looked down, he had to do a double take.
Maria.
She was standing in front of him, her back to him, as she was retrieving something from a drawer. The desk in front of them was covered with an absurdly huge puzzle. Dave’s office, Max thought, as he watched Maria silently closing the drawer and hiding the pencil in her right pocket.
She was both scared and thrilled. She had gone through all the drawers, had searched for any clue she could, and now all she had left was the trash can. She was proud of herself. Proud of doing whatever she could to help them, but she was also disappointed she hadn’t been able to find more. To know more.
To keep them safe.
The dizziness hadn’t stopped. As he watched Maria looking at the trash can, he felt himself falling, losing the flash altogether, and there was nothing he could do to hold on. He had no energy left. Darkness enveloped him as a buzzing started in his ears.
“Max! Goddamnit, wake up!” Michael’s words rushed into Max’s consciousness almost as fiercely as Michael’s shaking him did, holding him so tight by the shoulders that it hurt. Max automatically reached with his hands to Michael’s so he would stop.
“He’s awake!” came Liz’s relieved voice a second too late as Max touched Michael. All the lamps in the living room brightened for an instant before the bulbs exploded in a shower of sparks and shattered pieces, a telltale sign of Max’s and Michael’s energy colliding in a stressful moment. Everyone jumped except Max who was pinned down to the couch, and Michael who didn’t seem to care.
They both locked into each others eyes for a second, as Michael was making sure that Max was really awake and hopefully okay. He nodded once, and let him go, though through their loosely formed connection Max could feel something along the lines of “God, don’t scare me like that”, and then turning to look at the lamps, Michael felt annoyed.
“Are you all right?” Liz said, taking Michael’s place in front of Max. “You sort of fainted for a minute there…” his wife explained to him as he looked blank. This was not a flash anymore, and the dizziness was almost gone by now. He blinked a couple of times, and then nodded to reassure Liz and the others that he was fine. He turned his attention to his right hand, where he had enclosed the pencil. As he opened his fist, only ashes met his eyes.
“We have to talk,” he said, already sorting out the important facts and trying to tie in the little information they already had on Dave.
“Yes we do,” Isabel’s voice said from behind. She was far from looking rested, and Max just knew she had been dreamwalking. It didn’t take much to figure out who the likely candidates were.
He had a feeling that things were just about to change perspective, but he wasn’t sure if he was going to like that or not.
* * *
Author’s Note: The conversation that Max hears between Jake and Dave was already recalled by Jake on chapter 14, just in case you want to read the whole conversation again and see Jake’s POV.