8:00 AM The Parker Residence
"I'm telling you, Liz it's kismet.....you know, cosmic karma. The fact that you and Kyle broke up simply opens the door for a relationship with Max Evans."
"Maria....Before I could have a relationship with Max Evans...well, Max would have to open himself up to a relationship...and he never has....not with me, not with anybody."
"But he doesn't want just anybody, Liz. He wants you."
"Sure, Ria... in my dreams."
8:20 AM K and J Tool Rental, Albuquerque New Mexico
"That garden tractor with the backhoe...what's the reach on that backhoe arm?"
"Oh, it'll go down to about 7 feet below grade. If you need any more than that...like for a septic tank, you need to go to a bigger tractor."
"No, seven feet will do fine. Does it come with the trailer?"
"Yeah, what kind of vehicle you got to tow it with?"
"That Ford 250 over there...with the tonneau cover."
"That should be fine. Here's the paperwork. We'll need it back by noon Monday though, it's reserved for another renter."
"That shouldn't be a problem."
Incubus, Succubus, & Demon AU/Mature M/L 2/8/07 complete
Moderators: Anniepoo98, Rowedog, ISLANDGIRL5, Itzstacie, truelovepooh, FSU/MSW-94, Hunter, Island Breeze, Forum Moderators
8:30 AM The Evans Residence
'Somehow,' Diane decided as she poured orange juice into four glasses, 'Max has become a morning person.' And she knew it hadn't always been like that...always being the ten plus years since Diane and Philip had found the two of them walking naked along a desert road.
At first Max had been uncomfortable day or night, but by the time he'd started school he'd become a day person,...specifically, a week-day person. He'd loved school, waking up with such eager enthusiasm to get on that bus..almost devastated if teacher conferences or the rare snow day allowed him to stay home. And on the weekends...like this one, he had always sort of moped...well he still did that.
But for the last two or three years no matter how grumpy he was when he went off to bed, no matter what kind of brother-sister conflict he had going on with Izzy, he was always smiling when he woke up. Oh, it wouldn't last...it'd wear off by noon. But Max was now dependably happy at breakfast at least.
"OK, Max...Izzy, what'll it be, pancakes or waffles?"
"Waffles," said Max, looking at Izzy.
"Pancakes," said Izzy, looking at Max.
Diane just smiled and shook her head. 'Well, they are starting it early today.'
'Somehow,' Diane decided as she poured orange juice into four glasses, 'Max has become a morning person.' And she knew it hadn't always been like that...always being the ten plus years since Diane and Philip had found the two of them walking naked along a desert road.
At first Max had been uncomfortable day or night, but by the time he'd started school he'd become a day person,...specifically, a week-day person. He'd loved school, waking up with such eager enthusiasm to get on that bus..almost devastated if teacher conferences or the rare snow day allowed him to stay home. And on the weekends...like this one, he had always sort of moped...well he still did that.
But for the last two or three years no matter how grumpy he was when he went off to bed, no matter what kind of brother-sister conflict he had going on with Izzy, he was always smiling when he woke up. Oh, it wouldn't last...it'd wear off by noon. But Max was now dependably happy at breakfast at least.
"OK, Max...Izzy, what'll it be, pancakes or waffles?"
"Waffles," said Max, looking at Izzy.
"Pancakes," said Izzy, looking at Max.
Diane just smiled and shook her head. 'Well, they are starting it early today.'
8:20 PM The Crashdown
She watched him come in…and sit in Maria’s section. She’d talked to her mother…told her about breaking up with Kyle. Told her mother that Kyle was nice..that she liked him, but that he’d never be her dream-guy. Her mother had told her that was OK, she was young…she had plenty of time to find the right guy. But she’d also cautioned Liz…cautioned her not to let a dream keep her from dealing with reality.
Across the room sat the reality. Whatever her attraction to Max was…well it clearly wasn’t reciprocated, not even enough to make more than fleeting eye contact. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she should be more…realistic. There were plenty of other guys in the world…Plenty more even in the smaller world of West Roswell High. “But dreams are hard to give up,” she said to herself softly, barely whispering.
8:50 PM The Crashdown
He winced as he saw her come through the door, knowing what was coming. But he was wrong. She didn’t sit down across from him to glare at him from across the table, but instead crowded in beside him, trapping him in the booth. He gazed disconsolately down at the sad remains of the half-eaten burger and fries, now long grown cold as she put her hand on his forearm and whispered to him.
“Max, I know it’s hard, but this isn’t helping. Do you think I don’t understand? I feel the same way. Sometimes the only thing that gets me through the day is knowing that tonight I’ll be dreamwalking Alex Whitman….would you believe that?”
“I didn’t even know you knew him..”
“I don’t really. Isn’t that pathetic? He has a crush on me….can’t even bring himself to ask for a date…not that I could let it go anywhere anyway, but in his dreams he really cares….we dance the night away, him always so polite and gentlemanly. And in the end, we kiss. It keeps me going…those kisses. Is that pathetic, or what? But do you really think he’d do that…even want me in his dreams…if he knew what I was?”
“I guess not..”
“Max, I’m worried about you. I wish just as much as you do that it could be different, but you’ve gone through that obscene museum, you’ve seen what these paranoid tourists are like. They could never really trust us…certainly not accept us…and love….it isn’t going to happen, Max. But you have a sister, Max. And your siister will always love you..no matter what. You do realize that, don’t you Max?”
“I know, Izzy. It’s just so damn hard..”
“I know it is, Max, I know it is. But as long as we have each other..we’ll get by.”
Max left money on the table and got up to go with Izzy. He knew she loved him…knew they’d both get by. But he wished for more than getting by. He wanted his dreams, but even more…. he wanted them to come true.
9:09 PM Roswell United Bank Night Depository
Liz felt like a total idiot as she deposited the bank sack. Her father had asked her to make the bank deposit at 6:00 PM before he and her mom had gone out for their monthly night out. But they had been busy and then when she’d remembered..gotten it from the safe…he’d walked in. She’d lost all track of everything else then, fouled up two orders, and forgotten about the bank drop altogether. The bag had sat on the counter with almost $1200 in it for an hour with nobody watching it until she’d finished closing. She was lucky she even had the deposit to take to the bank.
Liz really didn’t like to make night deposits. Sure, Roswell was a small town, and safe enough usually. But at night…in the dark…carrying over a thousand dollars…she’d felt kind of vulnerable carrying the sack the block and a half to the bank. But with the deposit safely in the bank, she was feeling fine as she walked back to the darkened restaurant. At least until the man came suddenly from the mouth of the alley and grabbed her.
It happened quickly, the right arm grabbing her waist and the left hand bringing the cloth around her mouth and nose before she could even think to scream. He was big…strong….and had a grip like steel. Liz fought back panic….trying to pull away from him..but as she gasped for breath she smelled it…ether….the aroma was unmistakable, they’d used it in biology lab to kill frogs before dissecting them.
The terror rose in her as she reached toward her face with both hands, trying to pry the cloth away from her nose and mouth…desperate to get her mouth free so she could scream….scream before the ether could do its work. She struggled against his strength …strugglied to keep her mind thinking…to find some plan before the fumes overcame her. She clawed at his hand, scraping her fingernails against the big ring…scratching deeply into the skin on the back of his fingers,…but his grip was so strong ....so very very strong.....
She watched him come in…and sit in Maria’s section. She’d talked to her mother…told her about breaking up with Kyle. Told her mother that Kyle was nice..that she liked him, but that he’d never be her dream-guy. Her mother had told her that was OK, she was young…she had plenty of time to find the right guy. But she’d also cautioned Liz…cautioned her not to let a dream keep her from dealing with reality.
Across the room sat the reality. Whatever her attraction to Max was…well it clearly wasn’t reciprocated, not even enough to make more than fleeting eye contact. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she should be more…realistic. There were plenty of other guys in the world…Plenty more even in the smaller world of West Roswell High. “But dreams are hard to give up,” she said to herself softly, barely whispering.
8:50 PM The Crashdown
He winced as he saw her come through the door, knowing what was coming. But he was wrong. She didn’t sit down across from him to glare at him from across the table, but instead crowded in beside him, trapping him in the booth. He gazed disconsolately down at the sad remains of the half-eaten burger and fries, now long grown cold as she put her hand on his forearm and whispered to him.
“Max, I know it’s hard, but this isn’t helping. Do you think I don’t understand? I feel the same way. Sometimes the only thing that gets me through the day is knowing that tonight I’ll be dreamwalking Alex Whitman….would you believe that?”
“I didn’t even know you knew him..”
“I don’t really. Isn’t that pathetic? He has a crush on me….can’t even bring himself to ask for a date…not that I could let it go anywhere anyway, but in his dreams he really cares….we dance the night away, him always so polite and gentlemanly. And in the end, we kiss. It keeps me going…those kisses. Is that pathetic, or what? But do you really think he’d do that…even want me in his dreams…if he knew what I was?”
“I guess not..”
“Max, I’m worried about you. I wish just as much as you do that it could be different, but you’ve gone through that obscene museum, you’ve seen what these paranoid tourists are like. They could never really trust us…certainly not accept us…and love….it isn’t going to happen, Max. But you have a sister, Max. And your siister will always love you..no matter what. You do realize that, don’t you Max?”
“I know, Izzy. It’s just so damn hard..”
“I know it is, Max, I know it is. But as long as we have each other..we’ll get by.”
Max left money on the table and got up to go with Izzy. He knew she loved him…knew they’d both get by. But he wished for more than getting by. He wanted his dreams, but even more…. he wanted them to come true.
9:09 PM Roswell United Bank Night Depository
Liz felt like a total idiot as she deposited the bank sack. Her father had asked her to make the bank deposit at 6:00 PM before he and her mom had gone out for their monthly night out. But they had been busy and then when she’d remembered..gotten it from the safe…he’d walked in. She’d lost all track of everything else then, fouled up two orders, and forgotten about the bank drop altogether. The bag had sat on the counter with almost $1200 in it for an hour with nobody watching it until she’d finished closing. She was lucky she even had the deposit to take to the bank.
Liz really didn’t like to make night deposits. Sure, Roswell was a small town, and safe enough usually. But at night…in the dark…carrying over a thousand dollars…she’d felt kind of vulnerable carrying the sack the block and a half to the bank. But with the deposit safely in the bank, she was feeling fine as she walked back to the darkened restaurant. At least until the man came suddenly from the mouth of the alley and grabbed her.
It happened quickly, the right arm grabbing her waist and the left hand bringing the cloth around her mouth and nose before she could even think to scream. He was big…strong….and had a grip like steel. Liz fought back panic….trying to pull away from him..but as she gasped for breath she smelled it…ether….the aroma was unmistakable, they’d used it in biology lab to kill frogs before dissecting them.
The terror rose in her as she reached toward her face with both hands, trying to pry the cloth away from her nose and mouth…desperate to get her mouth free so she could scream….scream before the ether could do its work. She struggled against his strength …strugglied to keep her mind thinking…to find some plan before the fumes overcame her. She clawed at his hand, scraping her fingernails against the big ring…scratching deeply into the skin on the back of his fingers,…but his grip was so strong ....so very very strong.....
10:40 PM 8 miles outside of Roswell on Silvermine Road, site of an old open pit mine.
He had already dug the hole…now came the fun part. The ether had worn off a half hour ago, but it hadn’t mattered. She was going nowhere with her hands and feet duct-taped together, and saying nothing, with the duct tape over her mouth. He had worked with the backhoe in the moonlight for a half hour, and the hole was big and deep enough.
Liz had awakened under the tonneau cover of the pickup, recognizing where she was by the light coming in through the open tailgate. It made her uncomfortable to be in such an enclosed space…she’d always been somewhat claustrophobic. Having her hands and feet bound hadn’t helped either. But the worst was the duct tape over her mouth. The ether had made her nauseous, and she was struggling not to vomit…realizing that vomiting under the duct tape would be worse than just unpleasant…that she’d likely suck it down into her lungs and drown in her own vomitus.
She wanted to be out of the truck and she wanted the duct tape of her face, wanted it in the worst way…and her wishes were granted apparently, because that’s how she got it. He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her from the pickup onto the ground with one hand, reaching to her mouth and ripping the tape away with his other. Liz wasn’t sure which hurt worse, but it didn’t matter. Between fear, the pain, and the nausea she was soon emptying her stomach onto the desert floor. The large man just laughed.
“It’s important for you to understand the rules,” he said.
“Rules…?” Liz asked, too scared to know what else to say.
“All games must have rules…otherwise they wouldn’t be any …fun.”
“Why..why are you doing this.”
“First you need to hear the rules…then I’ll let you ask a few questions. Now the game is…for you to stay alive until someone finds you. The rules are these:
I’m going to put you in a box…and bury the box.
You get two bottles of oxygen and a flashlight
You can use the flashlight as much as you want..of course, when the batteries are gone…they’re gone.
You can use as much or as little oxygen as you want...of course, when that’s gone…that’s gone too.
The game is to see if the local police can find you…I’m going to mail them a few clues…but don’t get your hopes up. They haven’t even come close the first three times.”
“Three times?”
“Yes…well in fairness, they wouldn’t have saved little Jenny Langley anyway. I sort of fouled up I guess….my bad. You see, I gave her a lighter and a candle instead of a flashlight….I guess that wasn’t the thing to do if you are in a box full of oxygen. She became a crispy critter, long before anyone could have found her. You might want to give up smoking for the next…..oh, four or five days. Like I said,…my bad. Of course, she was supposed to be so damn brilliant…with her scholarship and all that…you would have thought that she would have known. As it turned out, she was as stupid as any dumb jock I guess. But I’ve improved a lot. You get an LED flashlight..it’ll last a lot longer…give you a chance to really get to know your grave before you die.”
“What have I done to you?”
“Funny you should ask that. What IS your name?”
“You don’t even know me..but you are doing this…why?”
“Oh, it’s Liz. I see it on your uniform. Let me tear that off…it’ll be better than just your name…give the locals some incentive.”
“But why?”
“Because I can…”
Liz started to scream then, as loud and as long as she could…but that wasn’t very long as it turned out..and shortly wasn't very loud either. He put the duct tape back over her mouth, picked her up and lay her in the box. He cut through the tape at her ankles, placing an oxygen bottle there, and another beside her.
“Here’s your flashlight,” he said, as he dropped it in beside her. “There will be a screw through the wood on the cover right above your hands…if you work the duct tape against that, you’ll be able to get your hands free. Have fun,” he laughed.
Liz tried to keep the lid from being placed in position, pushing up with her legs and her hands despite the duct-taped wrists, but the weight of the lid and that of the man were more than adequate to overcome her. She listened in mounting horror as the electric screwdriver slowly drove the twelve screws into place.
Even before the box was lifted by the strap from the backhoe and lowered into the hole she was terrified….working frantically to fray through the duct-tape at her wrists, heedless of the scratches and cuts she inflicted on her own wrists as she fought to free herself. But when the first bucket of dirt came crashing down, the fear overwhelmed her and with it the nausea returned. She frayed through the last fibers of the duct tape barely in time…barely in time to pull the tape from over her mouth as she was violently ill, retching repeatedly…fighting not to choke, barely managing to turn her head far enough to the side to avoid aspirating the bilious fluid that erupted from her mouth…even through her nose.
Her hands finally free, she fumbled in desperation for the small flashlight. In desperation she switched it on, only to find that the reality of her incarceration in a box 30 inches by 14 inches by 62 inches was far worse even than her fears. She scratched at the lid, breaking her nails, terror mounting with each bucket of dirt that covered the box. Finally she could hear the tractor no longer, the fall of the dirt no longer…only then did she recognize the other sound she had been hearing…the sound that had filled the box as soon as she had stopped vomiting…….the sound of her own screams.
He had already dug the hole…now came the fun part. The ether had worn off a half hour ago, but it hadn’t mattered. She was going nowhere with her hands and feet duct-taped together, and saying nothing, with the duct tape over her mouth. He had worked with the backhoe in the moonlight for a half hour, and the hole was big and deep enough.
Liz had awakened under the tonneau cover of the pickup, recognizing where she was by the light coming in through the open tailgate. It made her uncomfortable to be in such an enclosed space…she’d always been somewhat claustrophobic. Having her hands and feet bound hadn’t helped either. But the worst was the duct tape over her mouth. The ether had made her nauseous, and she was struggling not to vomit…realizing that vomiting under the duct tape would be worse than just unpleasant…that she’d likely suck it down into her lungs and drown in her own vomitus.
She wanted to be out of the truck and she wanted the duct tape of her face, wanted it in the worst way…and her wishes were granted apparently, because that’s how she got it. He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her from the pickup onto the ground with one hand, reaching to her mouth and ripping the tape away with his other. Liz wasn’t sure which hurt worse, but it didn’t matter. Between fear, the pain, and the nausea she was soon emptying her stomach onto the desert floor. The large man just laughed.
“It’s important for you to understand the rules,” he said.
“Rules…?” Liz asked, too scared to know what else to say.
“All games must have rules…otherwise they wouldn’t be any …fun.”
“Why..why are you doing this.”
“First you need to hear the rules…then I’ll let you ask a few questions. Now the game is…for you to stay alive until someone finds you. The rules are these:
I’m going to put you in a box…and bury the box.
You get two bottles of oxygen and a flashlight
You can use the flashlight as much as you want..of course, when the batteries are gone…they’re gone.
You can use as much or as little oxygen as you want...of course, when that’s gone…that’s gone too.
The game is to see if the local police can find you…I’m going to mail them a few clues…but don’t get your hopes up. They haven’t even come close the first three times.”
“Three times?”
“Yes…well in fairness, they wouldn’t have saved little Jenny Langley anyway. I sort of fouled up I guess….my bad. You see, I gave her a lighter and a candle instead of a flashlight….I guess that wasn’t the thing to do if you are in a box full of oxygen. She became a crispy critter, long before anyone could have found her. You might want to give up smoking for the next…..oh, four or five days. Like I said,…my bad. Of course, she was supposed to be so damn brilliant…with her scholarship and all that…you would have thought that she would have known. As it turned out, she was as stupid as any dumb jock I guess. But I’ve improved a lot. You get an LED flashlight..it’ll last a lot longer…give you a chance to really get to know your grave before you die.”
“What have I done to you?”
“Funny you should ask that. What IS your name?”
“You don’t even know me..but you are doing this…why?”
“Oh, it’s Liz. I see it on your uniform. Let me tear that off…it’ll be better than just your name…give the locals some incentive.”
“But why?”
“Because I can…”
Liz started to scream then, as loud and as long as she could…but that wasn’t very long as it turned out..and shortly wasn't very loud either. He put the duct tape back over her mouth, picked her up and lay her in the box. He cut through the tape at her ankles, placing an oxygen bottle there, and another beside her.
“Here’s your flashlight,” he said, as he dropped it in beside her. “There will be a screw through the wood on the cover right above your hands…if you work the duct tape against that, you’ll be able to get your hands free. Have fun,” he laughed.
Liz tried to keep the lid from being placed in position, pushing up with her legs and her hands despite the duct-taped wrists, but the weight of the lid and that of the man were more than adequate to overcome her. She listened in mounting horror as the electric screwdriver slowly drove the twelve screws into place.
Even before the box was lifted by the strap from the backhoe and lowered into the hole she was terrified….working frantically to fray through the duct-tape at her wrists, heedless of the scratches and cuts she inflicted on her own wrists as she fought to free herself. But when the first bucket of dirt came crashing down, the fear overwhelmed her and with it the nausea returned. She frayed through the last fibers of the duct tape barely in time…barely in time to pull the tape from over her mouth as she was violently ill, retching repeatedly…fighting not to choke, barely managing to turn her head far enough to the side to avoid aspirating the bilious fluid that erupted from her mouth…even through her nose.
Her hands finally free, she fumbled in desperation for the small flashlight. In desperation she switched it on, only to find that the reality of her incarceration in a box 30 inches by 14 inches by 62 inches was far worse even than her fears. She scratched at the lid, breaking her nails, terror mounting with each bucket of dirt that covered the box. Finally she could hear the tractor no longer, the fall of the dirt no longer…only then did she recognize the other sound she had been hearing…the sound that had filled the box as soon as she had stopped vomiting…….the sound of her own screams.
11:10 PM The Crashdown
“Liz, we’re home,” said Jeff Parker. He didn’t really worry when he got no response. Liz would often go to bed early. He and Nancy climbed the stairs up into the living area. It had been a romantic evening and it wasn’t yet over. They’d started this routine…going on a monthly date, back when Liz had entered Junior High School. It wasn’t that they didn’t love their daughter, they certainly did…..and on any other night they would have slipped in to her room to give her a good-night kiss.
But not tonight. Tonight…well, the passion had really just started and while they loved her dearly, they needed neither company nor chaperone for the next hour or so. They’d see Liz in the morning they figured, but tonight they had other ideas.
11:25 PM The Evans Residence
As he drifted off he thought of her…visualizing her coming through the window.
As the dream pulled him in deeper, Max Evans was again happy…happy for the first time in twenty hours.
“Liz, we’re home,” said Jeff Parker. He didn’t really worry when he got no response. Liz would often go to bed early. He and Nancy climbed the stairs up into the living area. It had been a romantic evening and it wasn’t yet over. They’d started this routine…going on a monthly date, back when Liz had entered Junior High School. It wasn’t that they didn’t love their daughter, they certainly did…..and on any other night they would have slipped in to her room to give her a good-night kiss.
But not tonight. Tonight…well, the passion had really just started and while they loved her dearly, they needed neither company nor chaperone for the next hour or so. They’d see Liz in the morning they figured, but tonight they had other ideas.
11:25 PM The Evans Residence
As he drifted off he thought of her…visualizing her coming through the window.
- She slid over the sill and walked to his side, smiling as she looked down at him in the bed. She took her jacket off, then her t-shirt, the silk bra emphasizing more than it concealed. Her pants dropped to the floor and she crawled in next to him, running her hands over his chest. Max hugged her to himself, feeling her warmth against his chest and abdomen, delighting in the feel of her smoothly shaven legs entwining with his legs….the softness of her body against his chest. His lips found hers and his tongue forced entry into her mouth, causing gentle moans to come from both of them.
As the dream pulled him in deeper, Max Evans was again happy…happy for the first time in twenty hours.
1:00 AM Main Roswell Post Office, 1480 So. Main, Roswell New Mexico
It had all been rather easy. The envelope had been bought in an intact package from a Staples in Albuqueque, chosen from the center of the package wearing gloved hands and pre-addressed on his home computer. There were millions of copies of Microsoft Word, and all had letter addressing capability. The Hewlett Packard printer was common, certainly there were hundreds of thousands of this model...and his wasn't even registered for the warrantee.
The local paper had been easy to find, the letters cut out and pasted to the sheet of copier paper bought from the same Staples and handled with the same gloved precautions. He was becoming adept at this his fourth time playing the game. The glue stick was far easier to handle with gloves on than the glue he'd used previously, and the letters had slid easily into place, sticking there after only a few minutes exposure to the dry desert air.
There was no stamp, of course. Saliva had cells a few..but enough. And even the self-adhesive stamps tended to pick up little pieces of hair, litle bits of dander...trivial things, but with current technology the DNA would finger him just as effectively as a fingerprint. He considered it humorous, actually, that the Sheriff's Office in Roswell would have to pay postage due for the letter.
Like many a Post Office in small towns, the lobby area was open 24 hours a day, only the stamp sails and special service area tightly shuttered. But he saw what he wanted, a mail drop on the wall. The letter went in there. Only afterward did he notice his mistake.
The local mail slot was above the one he'd used. That would have some repercussions in the future, because instead of being stamped and sorted at 9:00 AM and distributed from the Roswell Post Office, it would now go to El Paso Texas to be sorted there for distribution on the 10:00 AM truck. Of course, he didn't know the details, but he was pretty sure of the result. Damn. The game wouldn't start for probably an extra twenty-four hours. Well, it couldn't be helped now. Shaking his head in disappointment he got back in his truck. He had a trailer to pick up....and a long drive to Albuquerque.
It had all been rather easy. The envelope had been bought in an intact package from a Staples in Albuqueque, chosen from the center of the package wearing gloved hands and pre-addressed on his home computer. There were millions of copies of Microsoft Word, and all had letter addressing capability. The Hewlett Packard printer was common, certainly there were hundreds of thousands of this model...and his wasn't even registered for the warrantee.
The local paper had been easy to find, the letters cut out and pasted to the sheet of copier paper bought from the same Staples and handled with the same gloved precautions. He was becoming adept at this his fourth time playing the game. The glue stick was far easier to handle with gloves on than the glue he'd used previously, and the letters had slid easily into place, sticking there after only a few minutes exposure to the dry desert air.
There was no stamp, of course. Saliva had cells a few..but enough. And even the self-adhesive stamps tended to pick up little pieces of hair, litle bits of dander...trivial things, but with current technology the DNA would finger him just as effectively as a fingerprint. He considered it humorous, actually, that the Sheriff's Office in Roswell would have to pay postage due for the letter.
Like many a Post Office in small towns, the lobby area was open 24 hours a day, only the stamp sails and special service area tightly shuttered. But he saw what he wanted, a mail drop on the wall. The letter went in there. Only afterward did he notice his mistake.
The local mail slot was above the one he'd used. That would have some repercussions in the future, because instead of being stamped and sorted at 9:00 AM and distributed from the Roswell Post Office, it would now go to El Paso Texas to be sorted there for distribution on the 10:00 AM truck. Of course, he didn't know the details, but he was pretty sure of the result. Damn. The game wouldn't start for probably an extra twenty-four hours. Well, it couldn't be helped now. Shaking his head in disappointment he got back in his truck. He had a trailer to pick up....and a long drive to Albuquerque.
1:30 AM 8 miles outside of Roswell on Silvermine Road
Liz awoke finally. She had hyperventilated herself into unconsciousness. It took her long seconds to understand when she looked up at the scratched and bloodied plywood, eight inches above her face...long seconds to realize the nightmare was really true. It was dimly lit by the blue-white light of the little LED flashlight.
She turned her head...seeing a similar wall only slightly farther away on either side. She didn't bother to look up or down...her head was in contact with the plywood above her and even with her knees slightly bent, her toes reached the end wall at her feet. She fought the urge to scream
again...her throat already hoarse...fought the urge to hyperventilate again. She cried...shaking with fear...laying with her head on the unyielding plywood, softened only by the cushion of her own hair and vomit. She fumbled for the flashlight and found the switch, turning it off.
She lay there in the dark...trying desperately to pretend she was somewhere else...trying anything to keep the reality of her situation from driving her insane.
Liz awoke finally. She had hyperventilated herself into unconsciousness. It took her long seconds to understand when she looked up at the scratched and bloodied plywood, eight inches above her face...long seconds to realize the nightmare was really true. It was dimly lit by the blue-white light of the little LED flashlight.
She turned her head...seeing a similar wall only slightly farther away on either side. She didn't bother to look up or down...her head was in contact with the plywood above her and even with her knees slightly bent, her toes reached the end wall at her feet. She fought the urge to scream
again...her throat already hoarse...fought the urge to hyperventilate again. She cried...shaking with fear...laying with her head on the unyielding plywood, softened only by the cushion of her own hair and vomit. She fumbled for the flashlight and found the switch, turning it off.
She lay there in the dark...trying desperately to pretend she was somewhere else...trying anything to keep the reality of her situation from driving her insane.
6:30 AM The DeLuca Residence, Roswell New Mexico
BRINNNGGG BRINNNGGG
“Hello”
“Maria? This is Jeff Parker. Do you have any idea where Liz is?”
“Where Liz is? Isn’t she at home?”
“No Maria, when I went to wake her up this morning…her bed hadn’t even been slept in. Do you have any idea what could have happened to her? Her Mom and I are worried sick.”
“Mr. P…when I saw her last…well, we’d just closed up. Everything was as routine as could be.”
“Nancy and I are going down to talk to the Sheriff’s office, Maria. We’d appreciate it if you could come down there as well. You may be the last one to have seen her before…..well before she disappeared.”
“I’m on my way, Mr. Parker.”
“Maria,” asked Amy DeLuca, “What is it?”
“It’s Liz, Mom…she’s ..disappeared..”
“Oh no!”
“Can you drive me down to the Sheriff’s Office, Mom?”
“Certainly, honey. Get in the Jetta.”
7:45 AM Chaves County Sheriff’s Office, Roswell New Mexico
“Apparently a deposit was made for the Crashdown after 9PM according to the bank records,” said Jim Valenti..
“That was supposed to be done earlier, Sheriff.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure it was Liz that did it. I doubt that anyone else would have just picked up the money at the Crashdown and deposited it. That also makes it unlikely that she was running off or anything. You don’t give up $1200 in cash and then run off…with the key to the bank night deposit drop…if you are just becoming a teenage runaway.”
“Sheriff, I would never believe Liz would do that…run away I mean.”
“Has she been upset with you and your wife? Any fights…disagreements or anything?”
“No Sheriff, of course not. Liz is...well, one of her teachers once called her 'the perfect Liz Parker,' she's never given us any trouble.”
”Well that’s too bad.”
“Too bad, Sheriff?”
“Yes, Jeff…Nancy. I’d much rather this was just a teenage show of independence or something…she’d turn up eventually on her own then. This is looking more and more like an abduction.”
“An abduction, Sheriff..??? But why would someone abduct Liz?”
Jim Valenti had been in law enforcement long enough that he’d seen a few young girls get abducted. If Jeff and Nancy Parker didn’t know what usually happened to them….well, he didn’t want to be the one to tell them.
“Well, that’s what the investigation will try to find out. Maria gave us this list of the customers that were still there near closing,. We’ll get in contact with them…see what they can tell us. Maybe one of them noticed something unusual.”
Jim Valenti saw a look of fear on Nancy Parker’s face as she saw one of the names.
“Mrs. Parker? What is it?”
“Oh…this boy. I overheard Maria once saying that this ..Max…that he was always looking at Liz. Maria was just kidding her about it, I thought, but it seemed to make Liz really nervous. She denied it…but you could tell the whole idea made her nervous. I don’t know Max well…but I think he and Liz were lab partners in school last year. You might want to talk to Maria about him, Sheriff.”
“I’ll talk to Maria, Mrs. Parker. And we’ll question the Evans boy as well.”
‘Was the Evans boy stalking Liz Parker?’ Valenti wondered. ‘I’ll need to tread kind of carefully there, Philip Evans is a lawyer. If I even seem to be suspicious, he’s going to tell the kid to clam up. But right now….he’s number one on the list of suspects.’
“Come on Officer Lambright,” Jim Valenti said to the policewoman. “Let’s go talk to Miss DeLuca again….then let’s go to the high school.”
BRINNNGGG BRINNNGGG
“Hello”
“Maria? This is Jeff Parker. Do you have any idea where Liz is?”
“Where Liz is? Isn’t she at home?”
“No Maria, when I went to wake her up this morning…her bed hadn’t even been slept in. Do you have any idea what could have happened to her? Her Mom and I are worried sick.”
“Mr. P…when I saw her last…well, we’d just closed up. Everything was as routine as could be.”
“Nancy and I are going down to talk to the Sheriff’s office, Maria. We’d appreciate it if you could come down there as well. You may be the last one to have seen her before…..well before she disappeared.”
“I’m on my way, Mr. Parker.”
“Maria,” asked Amy DeLuca, “What is it?”
“It’s Liz, Mom…she’s ..disappeared..”
“Oh no!”
“Can you drive me down to the Sheriff’s Office, Mom?”
“Certainly, honey. Get in the Jetta.”
7:45 AM Chaves County Sheriff’s Office, Roswell New Mexico
“Apparently a deposit was made for the Crashdown after 9PM according to the bank records,” said Jim Valenti..
“That was supposed to be done earlier, Sheriff.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure it was Liz that did it. I doubt that anyone else would have just picked up the money at the Crashdown and deposited it. That also makes it unlikely that she was running off or anything. You don’t give up $1200 in cash and then run off…with the key to the bank night deposit drop…if you are just becoming a teenage runaway.”
“Sheriff, I would never believe Liz would do that…run away I mean.”
“Has she been upset with you and your wife? Any fights…disagreements or anything?”
“No Sheriff, of course not. Liz is...well, one of her teachers once called her 'the perfect Liz Parker,' she's never given us any trouble.”
”Well that’s too bad.”
“Too bad, Sheriff?”
“Yes, Jeff…Nancy. I’d much rather this was just a teenage show of independence or something…she’d turn up eventually on her own then. This is looking more and more like an abduction.”
“An abduction, Sheriff..??? But why would someone abduct Liz?”
Jim Valenti had been in law enforcement long enough that he’d seen a few young girls get abducted. If Jeff and Nancy Parker didn’t know what usually happened to them….well, he didn’t want to be the one to tell them.
“Well, that’s what the investigation will try to find out. Maria gave us this list of the customers that were still there near closing,. We’ll get in contact with them…see what they can tell us. Maybe one of them noticed something unusual.”
Jim Valenti saw a look of fear on Nancy Parker’s face as she saw one of the names.
“Mrs. Parker? What is it?”
“Oh…this boy. I overheard Maria once saying that this ..Max…that he was always looking at Liz. Maria was just kidding her about it, I thought, but it seemed to make Liz really nervous. She denied it…but you could tell the whole idea made her nervous. I don’t know Max well…but I think he and Liz were lab partners in school last year. You might want to talk to Maria about him, Sheriff.”
“I’ll talk to Maria, Mrs. Parker. And we’ll question the Evans boy as well.”
‘Was the Evans boy stalking Liz Parker?’ Valenti wondered. ‘I’ll need to tread kind of carefully there, Philip Evans is a lawyer. If I even seem to be suspicious, he’s going to tell the kid to clam up. But right now….he’s number one on the list of suspects.’
“Come on Officer Lambright,” Jim Valenti said to the policewoman. “Let’s go talk to Miss DeLuca again….then let’s go to the high school.”
8:15 AM 8 miles outside of Roswell on Silvermine Road,
She’d had the cherry Coke almost twelve hours ago but she’d had some discomfort even on the way to the bank. That had been forgotten in the kidnapping and the terror of her claustrophobia. But the discomfort had become urgency and finally pain…pain that even pushed its way through her attempt at being still in the darkness and pretending this all really wasn’t happening.
The Perfect Miss Parker felt the warmth and moisture between her legs, for the first time since an accident in Kindergarten. That and the smell of urine mixing with the vomit, sweat, and fear rekindled her nausea and she dry retched several times. She fumbled for the flashlight then, and her terror leaped anew as she saw the sides of the box so close to her. She found the oxygen bottle though, and fought back panic as the sides of the box hindered her arms as she brought it up to where she could see it. It was a small bottle, like they used for portable welding, and an old one. No regulator…no gauge, no way of guessing how full it was or how quickly it might be emptied. But she needed to breathe something that didn’t smell so much of vomit and urine and fear, so she cracked the valve.
The oxygen screamed from the valve, surprisingly loud in the small box. She hurriedly turned the valve back to where it came out at a gentle hiss, keeping the outlet near her nose. It was stale smelling, but it diluted out the other smells somewhat.
She turned it off, finally, but as it did the handle on the valve came off, and fell beneath her. She instinctively went to sit up to reach the handle, hitting her head. She tried to feel her head…to feel for a bump or a cut, and her hand struck the side and roof of the box. She tried to turn, now desperate to find some comfortable position, but each time she would bump into unyielding plywood her fear would grow. She tried to tell herself the box really wasn’t that small, tried to figure out how to get to the fallen handle, but in her mind it seemed like the box got smaller and smaller with each passing second.
She started to scream then, to strike out at the box, tearing in to the heel of her right hand on the screw that she’d used to get out of her duct tape…bruising both fists……screaming in gathering panic.
In desperation, she turned off the light and lay still, trying to slow her breathing. She could feel the handle, she was laying on the handle. Slowly…carefully, she brought her hand around behind her, keeping it close to her body so it wouldn’t touch the wall and panic her more. Finally she reached it and, just as slowly, brought it to the pocket of her uniform and slid it in.
Laying there in the dark, afraid to turn on the little flashlight, she had her first small victory….a very small victory over her own fear. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
She’d had the cherry Coke almost twelve hours ago but she’d had some discomfort even on the way to the bank. That had been forgotten in the kidnapping and the terror of her claustrophobia. But the discomfort had become urgency and finally pain…pain that even pushed its way through her attempt at being still in the darkness and pretending this all really wasn’t happening.
The Perfect Miss Parker felt the warmth and moisture between her legs, for the first time since an accident in Kindergarten. That and the smell of urine mixing with the vomit, sweat, and fear rekindled her nausea and she dry retched several times. She fumbled for the flashlight then, and her terror leaped anew as she saw the sides of the box so close to her. She found the oxygen bottle though, and fought back panic as the sides of the box hindered her arms as she brought it up to where she could see it. It was a small bottle, like they used for portable welding, and an old one. No regulator…no gauge, no way of guessing how full it was or how quickly it might be emptied. But she needed to breathe something that didn’t smell so much of vomit and urine and fear, so she cracked the valve.
The oxygen screamed from the valve, surprisingly loud in the small box. She hurriedly turned the valve back to where it came out at a gentle hiss, keeping the outlet near her nose. It was stale smelling, but it diluted out the other smells somewhat.
She turned it off, finally, but as it did the handle on the valve came off, and fell beneath her. She instinctively went to sit up to reach the handle, hitting her head. She tried to feel her head…to feel for a bump or a cut, and her hand struck the side and roof of the box. She tried to turn, now desperate to find some comfortable position, but each time she would bump into unyielding plywood her fear would grow. She tried to tell herself the box really wasn’t that small, tried to figure out how to get to the fallen handle, but in her mind it seemed like the box got smaller and smaller with each passing second.
She started to scream then, to strike out at the box, tearing in to the heel of her right hand on the screw that she’d used to get out of her duct tape…bruising both fists……screaming in gathering panic.
In desperation, she turned off the light and lay still, trying to slow her breathing. She could feel the handle, she was laying on the handle. Slowly…carefully, she brought her hand around behind her, keeping it close to her body so it wouldn’t touch the wall and panic her more. Finally she reached it and, just as slowly, brought it to the pocket of her uniform and slid it in.
Laying there in the dark, afraid to turn on the little flashlight, she had her first small victory….a very small victory over her own fear. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
8:45 West Roswell High School, Roswell New Mexico
Max had looked around for Liz before school, just hoping to get a glimpse of her. But his first period class was on one side of the building, and her first period class was on the other, so it really hadn’t surprised him when he’d not seen her.
But AP Mathematics second period only had fourteen students, so her absence was very noticeable. Max was wondering what was going on with Liz, when a student came in to the classroom and handed a note to the teacher. The teacher read the note, looked up at him, and said, “Mr. Evans. You need to go to the vice principal’s office.”
“OK, Mr. Sandmeyer. Do you know what it’s all about?”
“No idea, Max. I just got a note from the office, requesting I send you there.”
As Max entered the office he saw Sheriff Valenti, and a female deputy. He recognized Valenti….he was Kyle’s dad, but didn’t recall ever seeing the woman. He was surprised when the two sets of eyes turned to him, wondering what they could possibly want.
Jim Valenti knew that this was skating along the edge of the law. While he wasn’t yet to the point that he had probable cause against Max Evans, the DeLuca girl had been adamant in her assessment that the boy had been watching the missing waitress for years, and that she believed he was infatuated with Liz Evans. He had also been in the Crashdown up until 15 minutes prior to closing. The boy had a vehicle of his own…an old Jeep. That came pretty close to giving the boy motive, means, and opportunity.
But if the girl was abducted, and he did the abducting, the last thing he wanted right now was to accuse the boy because at that point the kid got two phone calls, one to a lawyer, one to a parent, and in his case they were one and the same. If Liz Evans was still alive and Max Evans was responsible for her abduction, the last thing Valenti wanted was for a lawyer to tell him to clam up.
“Good morning, Mr. Evans,” said the Sheriff. “One of your classmates has disappeared and I’d like to ask your help in our efforts to find her?”
“Her? Who is it, Sheriff?”
“Miss Elizabeth Parker,”
“Liz? Liz is gone? I saw her only last night, at the Crashdown. When did she disappear? ”
“When did you see her last, son?”
“I went to the Crashdown about a quarter after eight, Sheriff. I left at…oh, probably a quarter to nine.”
’That corresponded with what the other waitress had said. He came in, got a hamburger and fries….then really kind of just picked at it over the next half-hour.’ thought the Sheriff. That seemed more like he was just killing tome, waiting for the restaurant to close, rather than actually being hungry.
“Who else was there?”
“Well, Maria DeLuca was my waitress. There was a cook at the grill….I don’t know him. There weren’t many customers, but I didn’t recognize any of them…Oh, and my sister Izzy…uh, Isabel, she came in..we left just five or ten minutes before closing.”
The Sheriff looked at Officer Lambright who looked back at him. The boy being with his sister didn’t necessarily rule him out…but it sure made him less likely. “We’ll need to talk to your sister also….to see if she saw anyone else. We’d also like it if you would come down to the station…try to get a timetable of when you got there..when you left, who you saw….that sort of stuff.”
“Sure, Sheriff. Anything I can do to help.”
11:00 AM 8 miles outside of Roswell on Silvermine Road,
‘You’ve got to get a hold of yourself, Liz,’ she told herself. ‘If you don’t, you’ll go crazy. Even if they rescue you it won’t matter then, you’ll be insane. You have to at least try to deal with the situation.’
She turned the little flashlight on, and fought the urge to panic once she saw the walls, forcing herself to believe that they really weren’t closing in on her, although she could almost swear she saw them do just that.
‘You’ve got to think of something else, Liz. If you don’t the fear will consume you.’
Liz looked at her watch. It said 11 o’clock. But she wasn’t sure if it was 11 AM or 11 PM….or even if it was Monday or Tuesday, really. ‘It doesn’t matter, Liz’, she told herself. ‘Guess that it’s morning…it really doesn’t matter. If it’s 11 AM you should just be starting AP Biology. Think of Max. He’s probably turning in that lab assignment. Probably he’s already heard you weren’t there….missed you in AP mathematics. Think of Max, doing the experiment all by himself. You’ll have to get his notes when you get out…….”
The fear struck her again then. ‘What if I don’t get out?’ she asked herself. ‘What if I never see Max again?’
It was strange, that last thought. It wasn’t like she and Max had ever been a couple…….just lab partners. But suddenly that thought…the thought that she might never again see Max Evans, somehow that scared her more than she would have ever believed possible. She turned off the small flashlight, trying to control the horror. In the dark there were quiet muffled sobs…..
Max had looked around for Liz before school, just hoping to get a glimpse of her. But his first period class was on one side of the building, and her first period class was on the other, so it really hadn’t surprised him when he’d not seen her.
But AP Mathematics second period only had fourteen students, so her absence was very noticeable. Max was wondering what was going on with Liz, when a student came in to the classroom and handed a note to the teacher. The teacher read the note, looked up at him, and said, “Mr. Evans. You need to go to the vice principal’s office.”
“OK, Mr. Sandmeyer. Do you know what it’s all about?”
“No idea, Max. I just got a note from the office, requesting I send you there.”
As Max entered the office he saw Sheriff Valenti, and a female deputy. He recognized Valenti….he was Kyle’s dad, but didn’t recall ever seeing the woman. He was surprised when the two sets of eyes turned to him, wondering what they could possibly want.
Jim Valenti knew that this was skating along the edge of the law. While he wasn’t yet to the point that he had probable cause against Max Evans, the DeLuca girl had been adamant in her assessment that the boy had been watching the missing waitress for years, and that she believed he was infatuated with Liz Evans. He had also been in the Crashdown up until 15 minutes prior to closing. The boy had a vehicle of his own…an old Jeep. That came pretty close to giving the boy motive, means, and opportunity.
But if the girl was abducted, and he did the abducting, the last thing he wanted right now was to accuse the boy because at that point the kid got two phone calls, one to a lawyer, one to a parent, and in his case they were one and the same. If Liz Evans was still alive and Max Evans was responsible for her abduction, the last thing Valenti wanted was for a lawyer to tell him to clam up.
“Good morning, Mr. Evans,” said the Sheriff. “One of your classmates has disappeared and I’d like to ask your help in our efforts to find her?”
“Her? Who is it, Sheriff?”
“Miss Elizabeth Parker,”
“Liz? Liz is gone? I saw her only last night, at the Crashdown. When did she disappear? ”
“When did you see her last, son?”
“I went to the Crashdown about a quarter after eight, Sheriff. I left at…oh, probably a quarter to nine.”
’That corresponded with what the other waitress had said. He came in, got a hamburger and fries….then really kind of just picked at it over the next half-hour.’ thought the Sheriff. That seemed more like he was just killing tome, waiting for the restaurant to close, rather than actually being hungry.
“Who else was there?”
“Well, Maria DeLuca was my waitress. There was a cook at the grill….I don’t know him. There weren’t many customers, but I didn’t recognize any of them…Oh, and my sister Izzy…uh, Isabel, she came in..we left just five or ten minutes before closing.”
The Sheriff looked at Officer Lambright who looked back at him. The boy being with his sister didn’t necessarily rule him out…but it sure made him less likely. “We’ll need to talk to your sister also….to see if she saw anyone else. We’d also like it if you would come down to the station…try to get a timetable of when you got there..when you left, who you saw….that sort of stuff.”
“Sure, Sheriff. Anything I can do to help.”
11:00 AM 8 miles outside of Roswell on Silvermine Road,
‘You’ve got to get a hold of yourself, Liz,’ she told herself. ‘If you don’t, you’ll go crazy. Even if they rescue you it won’t matter then, you’ll be insane. You have to at least try to deal with the situation.’
She turned the little flashlight on, and fought the urge to panic once she saw the walls, forcing herself to believe that they really weren’t closing in on her, although she could almost swear she saw them do just that.
‘You’ve got to think of something else, Liz. If you don’t the fear will consume you.’
Liz looked at her watch. It said 11 o’clock. But she wasn’t sure if it was 11 AM or 11 PM….or even if it was Monday or Tuesday, really. ‘It doesn’t matter, Liz’, she told herself. ‘Guess that it’s morning…it really doesn’t matter. If it’s 11 AM you should just be starting AP Biology. Think of Max. He’s probably turning in that lab assignment. Probably he’s already heard you weren’t there….missed you in AP mathematics. Think of Max, doing the experiment all by himself. You’ll have to get his notes when you get out…….”
The fear struck her again then. ‘What if I don’t get out?’ she asked herself. ‘What if I never see Max again?’
It was strange, that last thought. It wasn’t like she and Max had ever been a couple…….just lab partners. But suddenly that thought…the thought that she might never again see Max Evans, somehow that scared her more than she would have ever believed possible. She turned off the small flashlight, trying to control the horror. In the dark there were quiet muffled sobs…..
Last edited by greywolf on Thu Feb 15, 2007 9:13 am, edited 1 time in total.