Roswell Fanatics

"So do you think it is true what they are saying? That it was your brother who took Liz?" Alex asked.

Isabel stalled by taking a big sip of coffee. She didn't really like coffee actually. Lemonade with extra sugar and a teaspoonful of Tabasco was more to her liking. But she loved these coffee dates. She'd have probably sipped battery acid if she had to for these few moments with him really physically here. It wasn't that the dreamwalks weren't good - they were great - but they were just dreams and always would be. Of course this coffee date had suddenly become very - awkward.

'Lie to him,' a small voice in her mind told her.

'I can't lie to Alex...,' she told that voice.

'Nonsense - you've been lying to him since third grade,' the voice told her - and she knew it was true. In fact her whole relationship with Alex was a lie. At least in his dreamwalks with Liz - in the abyss - Max had told Liz the truth. She hadn't believed it - but at least Max had told her.

Liz at least knew that Max really was an alien. In her dreamwalks with Alex - in which more and more he was dreaming of them as husband and wife - and mother of his children - he didn't have a clue that she was an alien - or that those children were quite likely an impossibility.

More than once she'd thought she ought to give him up - stop these coffee dates that gave Alex hope that the unobtainable Ice Princess might someday be more than a friend of an injured friend. The fact was she didn't have the will power to do it. Now it had come to this. The voice was right - it was simplest just to lie.

"I think Max did take her," said Isabel - wondering immediately what had happened to the idea of lying to him. In fact, Liz's accident was all that had brought the two of them together in real life. If Alex got mad at Max - would Alex even want to still have even these simple coffee dates with her - these simple moments that were all they would likely ever have in the real world - these simple moments that meant so much to her.

"Max loves Liz - he has for years, Alex. I think that the thought of her getting second rate care - hell, just being warehoused in that damn nursing home - I think it sort of unhinged him. I think that he's somewhere trying to nurse her back to health - just like he did with all those injured animals he was always bringing home."

Alex just nodded. Back when Isabel was just a dream - or rather an untouchable Ice Princess that he could only dream about being with - he would not have believed anyone could do something so stupid. But Max and Liz being together had never seemed unlikely - in fact he'd considered it inevitable. Liz, he knew, really had liked Max only somehow the two of them getting together had never really happened. But Max had gone off the rails the day Liz was injured though so there had been something there all along - and seeing Liz waste away the way she had for the last eleven months - it had been so hard on everyone. But he certainly couldn't blame Max for losing it over Liz - Max had really had a chance for a life with her - if he'd only gotten over his shyness.

Besides - Alex shuddered to think of what he'd feel like if something like that had happened to Izzy.
I mean, he knew he had no real chance at his dreams coming true. Why would someone like her care for him anyway? The only reason he could think was that she knew he was hurting too and just had a lot more empathy than anyone would ever give an Ice Princess credit for having. It wasn't like she could really feel about him like he dreamed of her feeling about him. But even so - even though he had not the chance of a snowball in hell of ever really meaning what he'd like to mean to Isabel Evans - well, it was easy enough to understand Max going crazy because Liz had been injured so badly. If Isabel were injured like that - God forbid - he'd have gone off the deep end too - even knowing he didn't really have any real chance with her.

"I'm sorry your brother is hurting so bad, Izzy. Strangely enough - I think I can understand. I know it must be tough on you too," he said, his hand covering hers.

Isabel looked down at his hand. She'd never wished more in her life that she were - normal. 'If I really thought I could give you the kids you want,' thought Isabel, '...nothing in the world would keep me away from you.'

But at least this was something - something she needed, she thought as she closed her hand on top of his.

"Thanks, Alex. You're a good friend. Please don't be upset with Max - or mad at me for being his sister."

"I could never do that, Izzy," said Alex with a smile. The truth was he WAS glad to be her friend. He wanted more than to be just her friend of course - maybe that would even happen, he thought - but only in his dreams....

The sign said Guy's Sporting Goods and the 'guy' behind the counter was Guy Jacobs, the owner. He was one of a number of small town businessmen - moderately successful although he'd never be rich. He was in the Lions Club and Kiwanis and once had been the vice president of the local chamber of commerce for a year. He'd met Jeff Parker in Kiwanis and knew him - not well - but then Roswell wasn't exactly a big town, and Guy was plugged in to the local news and gossip as well as the next small town businessman. That's why he wasn't entirely pleased to see Jeff shopping in his store.

Jeff reached up and brought the shotgun down from the rack. It was a Winchester Defender - a short barreled pump-action shotgun designed for home defense.

To tell the truth, most people are pretty pathetic shots with handguns, even at fairly short range. They are as likely to hurt themselves as the burglar they confront in their house in the dead of the night. Worse yet, the penetration of modern handguns is just too good. If - or more likely when - it misses the intruder the bullet goes crashing through walls for some distance - imperiling other members of the family.

Loaded with number seven and a half or number eight birdshot, the 12 gauge shotgun was devastating at close to medium range and the barrel - at 18 inches - was long enough to make shooting yourself unlikely and aiming easy. Best yet the light birdshot would be stopped by a double thickness of drywall - making it unlikely you'd do harm to any of your loved ones with the pellets that did miss the intended intruder - although with the spread of the shotgun - it had a wide open choke - you were almost certain to hit the intruder with at least SOME of the pellets. All of these things made the shotgun popular for home self-defense.

Similar shotguns were also popular with the police. They loaded theirs a little differently though. They would alternate double-ought buckshot - pellets the size of a thirty caliber bullet - with 12 gauge slugs - an ounce and a quarter of rifled lead - in their weapons. The buckshot was lethal - even out to medium ranges. The slug could crack the block of a V8 engine at closer range. Up close, nothing was more lethal - nothing at all.

"That's a good self-defense gun," said Guy. "... a better choice than a pistol, in my estimation. If you load it with birdshot..."

"I'll take it." said Jeff Parker, "... and a box of double ought and one of slugs too."

Guy winced. That was sort of what he was afraid of. Guy knew Jeff Parker and under normal circumstances he would have had him fill out the paperwork and take the gun and ammo - there was no waiting period on shotgun purchases in New Mexico. But this wasn't normal circumstances.

"I'm sorry but that one is taken - someone just called me on the phone this morning and gave me their credit number. I was just about to take it out of stock. I can get you another one - it'll be about twenty-four hours though."

Jeff Parker looked at the gun and nodded - handing it back to Jacobs. "OK Guy, I'll be back tomorrow."

Guy took the gun and took it into the back room - laying it down beside the boxes of the two other Defenders he had in stock. He'd have to sell it to Jeff tomorrow - or he'd just go somewhere else - but it would buy time enough for a phone call and maybe time for the sheriff to talk sense into Jeff Parker.

He punched the numbers on the telephone... "Hello, Sheriff's department? I need to talk to Sheriff Valenti. Tell him its Guy Jacobs, and I have a slight problem I need to hand off to him. That's OK, I'll wait....."

"Relativistic Astrophysics: The structure and evolution of the universe
By I. Akov Borisovich Zelʹdovich, page 231. The Unity of Forces in the Universe....," read Max aloud. Of course, Liz couldn't hear him, but that was OK. He still liked to talk to her - even when all he was doing was working his way through this bothersome book. It was tough slogging - he'd been at it for three days and was averaging less than eighty pages a day. What was worse, he was beginning to believe old Akov was wrong. He had found three separate areas where it indicated that things like the stasis chambers were impossible when clearly they weren't. But he needed to understand all the theory better before he could hope to improve upon it, so here he was - reading away.

Life in the podchamber was starting to settle in to a routine - strange as that seemed. Physical therapy on Liz consumed about four hours twice a night. Feeding her and spongebaths - turning her - general nursing care - maybe another two hours. That left six or seven hours for reading astrophysics and disassembly and tinkering with the parts of the third podchamber - Michael's if Max recalled correctly. That was the part that wasn't going that well.

"You know," he said to his comatose wife, "...the incubator part of this is not so difficult. With your help I could probably have that thing up and running in a week. The technology is sort of elegant, but it's not that difficult conceptually. Just recharge the water and nutrients - the membrane wall that acts as the attachment point for the placenta is synthetic - and the placenta is really part of the embryo so that part is already supplied - these chambers here keep it sterile are run on electricity from the solar cells too.... Yeah, that would be easy enough to do. We could probably make a fortune manufacturing these for movie stars that want their own kids but don't want to carry them to term. This, on the other hand," he said kicking the stasis field inducer with his toe, is what I need to figure out how to make work. Unfortunately, I haven't even come up with a theoretical basis for it - let alone actually figuring it out - or what fuels it. But I'm not going to give it up," said Max, looking at a stack of about a dozen other books on astrophysics, "...it's just going to take time..."

As those words echoed back from the walls of the podchamber Max hoped he was telling the truth. It sure wasn't looking good so far though. Of course in only about seven more hours he could fall asleep and join Liz in her orb. Knowing that let him keep going and - honestly - it was the only thing cheering him up right now. Her orb was still contracting but the rate had slowed down considerably with Izzy visiting her during the night and him visiting her during the day.

'Of course,' he told himself, '...that really isn't winning. It's just losing more slowly.'

Grimly he went back to page 231 and started reading.

In the meantime in - what I guess you might call - the aether Izzy was just hanging out - fast asleep in her own bed - waiting to pounce when Liz's weak dream-orb formed. As she detected it start to form, she moved her consciousness to merge with it.
One good thing about Liz's condition - perhaps the only one - was that she couldn't sense the time she was alone when she wasn't actually dreaming. As long as one of them got to her quickly she didn't actually start to feel that crushing loneliness - the feeling that she was the only person in the universe - or that life was slipping by without her. That's why she and Max tended to hover close to where they could sense her even when the orb wasn't formed. Of course, they still missed some times - times when neither of them were asleep and Liz's orb would form. As Izzy entered the dream-orb, she was pretty sure this wasn't one of those times though - in fact, she was certain.


"Mmmmm," said Liz, stretching languorously.

Isabel noticed instantly the somewhat satiated look in the girl's eyes. It was obvious that - in Liz's mind - Max had only recently left, and she was pretty sure that her last period of awareness had NOT involved theoretical discussions about astrophysics and unified field theory.

"If this really is purgatory," asked Liz, "...is it sinful to have erotic dreams like that? I mean if you already have dreamed you were married that is? And what about everything I ever read on the subject of sex - you know - that it took time to really become compatible? How could they be that wrong?""

"Too much information..." said Izzy. "I would pay big money to NOT hear about my brother's love life," she said, "I married the two of you and I'm glad you are happy and I guess I really didn't expect you two to play patty-cake or something in the dream-orb alone, but I really would just as soon not hear about it. Particularly since even in a coma you seem to be doing better than me....."

Izzy's reaction puzzled Liz - and her deep blush puzzled her even more. Like her dream-husband Max, Liz had decided that Izzy was just a figment of her imagination. Just an imaginary friend who her damaged brain had created to keep her company in this coma. Why would this personality be embarrassed by her interaction with her dream of Max? The same subconscious mind was undoubtedly creating them both.

Just for a moment Liz hesitated - just for an instant letting the smallest doubt enter her mind that Occam's razor was - in this instance - wrong. But she couldn't think that - couldn't bring herself to even explore that argument in any detail. Because if it were true, she couldn't bear to think that as the abyss slowly collapsed it would be reality she was losing. Losing a beautiful dream was tragic enough. No, it was safer to follow logic. This was all a fantasy - that was really the only thing it could be.

Still, if that was the game her subconscious wanted to play - she'd play along. It wasn't like there was anything else to do in the abyss. It appeared to be the only game in town.

"So tell the old married woman here what the problem is, Izzy. Maybe I can give you some advice."

Izzy smiled. For as little as she had known Liz before her accident she had really gotten to like her in the months she had dreamwalked her with Max since that terrible night.

"Old married woman indeed. I doubt you and my shy brother have had time to do it even twice..."

Liz's eyes twinkled and she chuckled. "You'd be surprised. Still waters run deep sometimes, as they say, In fact, ..."

"Too much information!"

"Very well, but what's YOUR problem?"

Izzy sighed deeply. "It's Alex of course. To begin with, I'm scared he will run screaming when he finds out the truth about me - but I could maybe live with that risk. The problem is that he wants children."

"And you don't?"

"I like children - but that's not the point. Actually, I guess when I stop to think of it - I'd love to have Alex's children someday - but I don't think that's possible."

"Because you are - uh - not from around here?" asked Liz.

Izzy could tell Liz still didn't believe that - didn't believe any of this. But she was trying to be polite and keep the disbelief out of her voice. She and Max had done their best to convince Liz of the reality. Unfortunately, the reality was actually a lot less probable than Liz's logic, and Liz was a captive of that logic.

“Yeah, because I'm not from around here – or even from around Roswell since I'm not altogether sure where 'here' is.”

“Well, Max and I seem fairly – compatible.”

“Yeah, well physically I think my brother is pretty much like any normal guy and I would guess that I'm pretty much like any normal gal – in the real world anyway. But it isn't just the physical compatibility – although I guess we don't even know that for sure...”

“But I told you...,” started Liz.

“That was in the dream-orb, Liz. Trust me – my brother wouldn't...,” Izzy smiled and shook her head. “I should have realized when he asked me to marry you two that he was up to something. I'm not saying that Max wouldn't have kidnapped you and taken you to the podchamber anyway – he probably would have – but he knows you really don't believe this is real.

He simply wouldn't do – that – with you without you knowing what he was -really believing it – and being OK with it. Right now I'm home in my bed dreaming and he's with you – probably giving you a sponge bath or something – but I can tell you this for sure. Your virgin body is laying their inviolate.

Oh, he may have dream-sex with you if you are willing –and apparently you are - but he wouldn't go beyond that. As much as he loves you he'd not touch you that way in the real world without you believing and approving.”

“And you feel that way about Alex?”

“Like I said, I have two problems. Let's take the first one.

Let's pretend that this accident had never happened to you. Let's pretend that your lab-partner Max Evans invited you to a dance. Then let's say afterward you and he were parked on some back road in a jeep but instead of kissing you he told you he was part alien – that he had these strange powers, and he showed you them. How would you feel about him.”

Liz seemed pensive – going through her mind a jigsaw puzzle of cause and effect. This was of course all a dream – but in this dream she was married to Max who was some sort of an alien. I mean, she couldn't be afraid of her own husband, but still in the scenario Izzy was describing she wouldn't have gotten to know him for all these sessions in the abyss.

No, were she to wake up right now and undoubtedly find out that this had all been a dream, Max would be little more than a lab partner to her. Not a known quantity – not a husband or a lover. No, if a year ago her lab partner Max had suddenly announced that he cared for her but – oh yeah – he was also an alien, it certainly wouldn't have been a trivial issue. Would she have freaked out? Very likely.

“I'm not sure how I would have felt. I'm not sure how I would feel if I woke up tomorrow and saw the real Max Evans – not the dream- husband of my erotic dreams,” Liz admitted frankly. "I'd like to think that I could be objective - that I'd say, 'Oh, isn't that interesting,' and that I'd just let the relationship take it's course regardless - but I'm not at all sure that's what would have happened.

We all come to our interactions with other people with the baggage of our upbringing - and our fears of the unknown. I have to admit - I might have gone screaming into the night looking for Sheriff Valenti or someone to protect me. I really might have."

"Well, I COULD do something like what happened to you. You know, let him Know in his dreams that I'm ' not of this Earth,' but not say or do anything in the real world to let him know that. The problem with that is - well that only gets me off the hook for what happens in the dream-orb. Before we could really be a couple in the real world I'd still have to tell him..."

Liz smiled sympathetically. She knew it wasn't real - but still it was sweet. She actually could picture her lab partner Max - under those sorts of circumstances - loving her from afar for all these years but unwilling to trap her into a relationship she didn't understand - even though she'd given him more than a few hints over the last few months of her real life that she was interested in him. It would have been just like 'Mr. Responsibility,' to do something like committing himself fully to her once she was injured - and taking care of her forever if need be without any expectation that their union would ever actually be physically consummated - at least, she thought - that's what the real Max would have done if he'd really been the man of her dreams.

In fact, this whole world of the abyss, Liz decided, was peopled by her mind with people that were - in their own way - better than people. A Max who was the very kind of person she would have most wanted for her husband and lover and an Izzy who was the antithesis of the real Ice Princess Isabel and - exactly the sort of person she would have wished her friend Alex would someday find. If that wasn't a confirmation to her that the Max and Izzy in this world weren't a construct of her subconscious - not something real, but rather the sort of ideal people she wished existed - nothing was.

Still, in this world one of those special people was distressed. Even if it was only a dream, she could comfort her.

"Why don't you have your romance in his dream-orb? I speak from personal experience - it's quite nice. See how that goes - then, if it goes well, do what your heart tells you to do."

"But I....," started Izzy, then bit off her words. What she'd wanted to say was that she wanted more than just a dream-orb romance, she wanted the real thing. But she couldn't say that to her brother's wife. This dream-orb was all Liz had, and a pretty shoddy one at that, and even it was slowly collapsing. No, she loved her sister-in-law, she couldn't be that unkind. Sometimes lies were kinder.

"But I'm just so afraid. I mean, I don't know much about music or computers - those things are important to him. What if we can't think of anything to talk about?"

Liz smiled. The concept of an Isabel Evans nervous about a date with Alex was NOT something that many of the kids at West Roswell High would have ever believed. But somehow - for THIS IZZY - it fit.

"Well, you like to dance, he likes to dance, dream some nice slow dance with just the two of you in some poorly lit ballroom and .... improvise."

"Improvise?" asked Izzy.

"I'm sure one of you will think of something - eventually. But you have to at least get the relationship going before it even makes sense to speak about children, " said Liz with a twinkle in her eye as the dream-orb again started to fade as Liz lost self-awareness again.

Izzy hovered in the aether - but it would be hours before Liz's orb came back - if it came back at all tonight. Could be that Liz wouldn't be back until Max's shift in the aether. She certainly had time for just a short visit with Alex - if Alex was dreaming, that is.

Within a few seconds she picked his dream-orb out of the group of them hovering around Roswell and osmosed into it....

“Jeff, this is a real bad idea,” said Jim Valenti. Guy Jacobs was standing behind the counter – not really wanting to make this sale – but having run out of excuses. It had, after all been over three days.

“I have a right under the law to purchase a firearm for my own defense,” said Jeff Parker.

“You certainly do,” agreed Jim Valenti, nodding his head, “...but I find it a curious coincidence that you have decided to buy one immediately after your daughter gets kidnapped.”

“I'd think that you'd be out trying to find the guy who did the kidnapping rather than interfering with a law-abiding citizen exercising his second amendment rights, Sheriff,” retorted Jeff. He turned his attention to Guy and continued, “Well, Guy, are you going to sell me that shotgun or do I have to take my trade to the gunshop over at Mountain View?”

Guy Jacobs looked at the Sheriff and Jim shrugged his shoulders. Apparently Jeff was not about to be dissuaded and it might as well be Guy Jacobs getting the business as the next guy. He watched in silence as Guy pulled a long box out from behind the counter – added two boxes of shells to it – and started to ring it up on the till.

“Jeff, I'm warning you – I'm not going to tolerate you taking the law into your own hands...”

“Why don't you just find that boy and my daughter, Jim,” said Jeff as he paid cash for the firearm. “You can keep the change, Guy,” he finished, picking up the shotgun and ammo and walking out.

Guy Jacobs looked at the Sheriff. “Sorry Jim, I tried...”

“I know, Guy, I know. So did I. I just hope that Jeff doesn't find that kid. What happened to Liz was tragic enough. Nancy's in bad enough shape from what happened to her daughter – she doesn't need her husband in prison too.”


Ten Minutes later - Roswell Public Library

Of course it wasn't just the shotgun he bought from Guy Jacobs that he needed – Jeff knew that.

Chaves county had 6000 square miles and a population density of only four people per square mile – two-thirds of those people living within the city limits of Roswell itself. That left a lot of vacant desert – an AWFUL lot of vacant desert. He was going to need something to help him narrow down the search, and as he logged on the internet at the City Library and found what he needed he wrote the telephone number down.

He'd call it from the Crashdown and give them his credit card number. For all he knew it might already be too late to find his daughter but he'd find the boy – find Max Evans – if it took him the rest of his life he'd find him and make him pay.....

In Liz's dream-orb – such as it was – the newlyweds had done what newlyweds do. Why not? It wasn't like the abyss was a particularly scenic place with a lot of areas of interest. Beyond a few feet subjectively from Liz there were increasing swirls of black mist that became a sphere of black nothingness only a dozen or so steps away. It was unsurprising that the two would seek comfort – and stimulation – in one another.

The pillow talk afterward (had they actually HAD pillows) WAS a little different. In fact, it was a LOT different. It was two honor students in science talking about a problem. Of course, Liz didn't actually BELIEVE that Max was working on stasis chambers. She didn't actually believe that Max's mind was independent of her own. But she'd just had a pretty damn good time considering she was in a coma and if he wanted to talk astrophysics, she was willing to give it a try. Unfortunately it seemed like she knew even less about the subject than he did.

“Max, I just don't know....? The questions are over my head – let alone the answers. If I had the right reference books and enough time – well maybe I'd get my level of ignorance high enough to understand the question, but I'm pretty sure I still wouldn't have an answer for you – not anytime soon anyway.”

It didn't really worry her that this dream manifestation of Max Evans actually did seem to know more than she did about astrophysics and unified field theory – that was easy enough to explain. Her unconscious mind was making all that stuff up. Of course, it didn't know beans about those subjects either – hence it would have no difficulty spouting nonsense that she would not only not recognize but be unable to comprehend.

Nope, the fact that Max apparently knew stuff that she didn't didn't argue in the least against Max being a figment of her imagination – because she had no way of knowing if anything this ersatz Max was saying made a damn bit of sense. Liz thought, ergo, she was... but not understanding Max's questions just didn't prove a thing.

“Well, I wanted to ask anyway. I've got the books and I've been spending every spare minute with them – and I still don't get it.”

“Sorry, but I'm really better in biology. I'm not …. I wasn't going to take physics until next year – but even then it won't be near that advanced.”

“The biology I do understand – but that's only for the incubators. It's not all that far ahead of our current day science. It has a few elegant things that we've never put together just yet, but the concept isn't beyond us and – now having seen it – I'm pretty sure that even I could get it to work.”

OK, so it was sort of a geeky conversation – but then they were both after all sort of science geeks. Besides, neither of them smoked and even if they had there were no cigarettes in the abyss. They needed to do something to fill the intervals where they were recovering from their previous activities. They couldn't talk about the weather and the scenery wasn't much, and anything that Max said about what was going on in the real world he feared would just depress Liz further - so they talked science.

“So what is IT like?” asked Liz. It was all a dream, but she was still catching her breath from the last time, and thought it was polite to keep up her end of the conversation – even if she was just talking to her own subconscious mind.

“Well, it's surprisingly straightforward, actually, considering it's not just an ordinary incubator, but an artificial womb as well. It's lined with a specialized plastic membrane which we split when we came out – but it'd be easy enough to repair that with molecular manipulation. The membrane is normally pretty porous and permeable, but when the zygote implants the placenta that's formed grows out over the surface of the womb and forms an interior membrane...”

“Like an amniotic sac?”

“Just like that. As the placenta grows out over the surface of the plastic membrane it just holds the machine provided nutrients back and exchanges with them at the periphery of the cavity.The plastic is sort of an artificial endometrium."

"But how does the machine provide oxygen - I mean normally you'd have the mother's blood supply?"

"Actually, a small supply of artificial blood carries the oxygen from a molecular sieve generator. The blood appears to be polyfluorhydrocarbon. I looked it up - there's something like that being used in Europe. Really, except for the membrane itself which I don't think would be beyond the capability of some labs on Earth to produce, the rest is just sort of mechanical - pumps and stuff. Those have to be highly reliable of course, but that's just engineering. You have to keep things sterile, but I bet you I could take an embryo and grow it to term - probably well past term actually - up to about five or six year old size."

It was strange - almost disconcerting - but Liz could visualize what Max was talking about. To her knowledge nothing like that had yet been built on Earth - but conceptually it really wouldn't be that hard.

'How can you invent something like that in your dreams?'she asked herself.

Perhaps if she'd had time to think about that she might have started to question Occam's razor on this case - but suddenly someone was nibbling on her ear and she lost her train of thought.

'Come on Liz,' she told herself, '...you've got better things to do than to dream about new inventions right now...'

"Ummmmmm...." she said, as she felt his lips work their way from her ear down her neck to her breast. Regrettably, that was when her self awareness faded as the orb again collapsed.

Special Agent Bob Phillips and Special Agent Jaime Sanchez were looking at the map of Chaves county in the Sheriff's Office conference room. Phillips was being about as helpful as usual.

“Son of a Bitch – have you ever seen more nothing in your entire life, Jamey?”

Jaime decided he'd lost the battle on the pronunciation of his name, and he'd finally just given up.

“Yeah, well it's home to the people who live here,” he replied.

"That's because they are idiots...," said Bob. Jaime's reply - which would have likely further irritated the senior agent - was cut short by the arrival of Jim Valenti and one of his deputies.

"Good morning gentlemen," said Jim, looking at Jaime as he said the word 'gentleman.' He'd had about all the attitude he could stand from Phillips too. "I assume you are ready for a quick briefing on the search?"

"Good morning, Sheriff," said Jaime quickly. "That would be a yes on the briefing. How is the search going?"

"Well, we have about one hundred old homesteader cabins, abandoned mines with cabins or buildings of some sort associated with them, and three abandoned WWII military facilities with a few dozen abandoned buildings each on them within the county that we are aware of. Then there are dozens of abandoned old trailers and just old shacks that we know about - and possibly several times that many on private property that we don't know about. We are checking them as quickly as we can - the ones we know about that is - and we are probably half way through them."

"Halfway through them?" shouted Phillips in disbelief. "It's been four friggin days. What have your guys been doing..."

Valenti's deputy looked like he was getting ready to do what Jaime was thinking about doing himself to shut up the senior agent. Fortunately the Sheriff put himself between the the duputy and Phillips and shook his head.

"Agent Phillips, the Chaves County Sheriff's department has precisely 71 manpower authorizations. Eleven of those people are at the corrections center, the only prisoner holding area in six thousand square miles. That leaves 60 people. Ten of these people are strictly administrative. Four of the others are in the Law Enforcement Support Activity - along with four more from the Fire Department - they basically run our 911 service. That leaves me 46 actual field officers - counting myself - to cover the county on a 24/7 basis. At any given time three of those 46 are going to be on convalescent or maternity leave and three are going to be on vacation.

That gives me 40 officers that are split into three shifts to handle every crime outside the three incorporated cities that actually have their own small police forces, and they have to control speeders and address motor vehicle accidents on 2400 miles of county roads not covered by the New Mexico State Police, take care of the drunks that are put on the road by nineteen separate bars and roadhouses, and handle everything from drug smuggling to domestic violence to murder. Now from one end of the county to another is a three hour drive. With – at most – 15 officers on duty at any given time and six thousand square miles to cover, perhaps you think that you could do better?” finished Valenti.

“I'm sure Agent Phillips didn't mean to imply that your people weren't working hard,” said Jaime, knowing damn well that was EXACTLY what he'd been implying. The point is, there IS a lot of territory to cover. Are there any other resources to draw from?”

“We have a few reservists who can help us out on weekends – and the New Mexico State Police can cover some of the locations that are near the state highways – but that's going to be just about it for the local resources.”

“Well, the El Paso office isn't going to help much either. If you needed a SWAT team – or forensic specialists – or bomb disposal – well, we have those. Just not all that many field agents available. We might be able to get some help from the US Marshal's Service though...”

“To tell the truth, that's sort of a two-edged sword. A number of these places are on private land – places we need to get permission from the owner to search since we don't have any probable cause. A lot of these old desert rats aren't just recluses – they have a real distaste for the federal government. My guys frequently know them well enough to cajole them into letting us on the property. Even a number of the places on public land can only be easily accessed from adjacent private land – unless you want to get there in a four-wheel drive jeep at ten miles an hour.”

“Shit, this is going to take forever,” growled Bob Phillips. “Jamey – you coordinate with these people. I'm going to call back to the office and see what they can do to help.” Even as he stormed out of the room he realized that 'Jamey' was right. The El Paso field office didn't have many spare personnel either. 'You are going to be stuck in this friggin' desert forever,' he thought to himself as he walked back toward the motel – and the wet bar that waited him in his room.

After Phillips stormed out, Jaime looked at the Sheriff and his deputy and shrugged his shoulders. “I apologize about my partner...”

Jim Valenti shrugged. “Not your fault, Jaime. I'm not real happy with this case either. Worse yet, Jeff Parker has bought himself a shotgun. My suspicion is he's going looking for Max Evans too.”

“O hell,” said Jaime. “THAT particular help we could have definitely done without....”




It was early evening in Roswell. At the podchamber Max had just awakened. Liz had not gotten in to REM sleep after his first visit to the abyss – and one could sleep only so long. But likewise, it was not yet dark – and it would be another four or five hours before Izzy WOULD be sleeping. So when the small deformed dream-orb that was the abyss reformed, there was only one self-awareness in it – the self-awareness of Liz Parker – well, Liz Evans now, actually. It was a very small and lonely universe.

It happened about a third of the time – she would be alone when she was in the abyss. That was better by far than when she had dreamed of 'Izzy' and Max together. Then two-thirds of the time she'd beeen alone. But now there periods of isolation were especially troubling.

It was impossible for Liz to see the limits of the abyss – there was darkness in all directions. But she could FEEL it getting smaller – especially when there was no one to share it with.

“Hello out there...,” she called, not really expecting an answer.

The sound sort of bounced back from where the abyss stopped – she guessed it couldn't be more than a few meters away. She tried desperately – and unsuccessfully – to conjure her dream of Max or Izzy. With their dream present, the walls retreated several more meters away – but even when they were present she could tell the abyss was shrinking.

'Your brain is losing function,' she admitted to herself.

At this rate – how long could it take before she never achieved self-awareness? A few dozen periods of awareness? Certainly less than a couple hundred. And the periods themselves were growing shorter. It wasn't easy to judge time in the abyss. Subjectively, the sessions where she dreamed about Max might be no more than an hour or two. The sessions with Izzy perhaps half that long. These episodes by herself – even though they seemed like an eternity tthey were – objectively – probably no more than fifteen or twenty minutes. In the absence of the stimulation of those dreams, it was hard to keep self-aware for very long. Dreaming of Max was quite stimulating – Izzy less so. But alone like this – it was like her brain wasn't even trying – like it didn't want her to be here – wasn't willing to go on if it had nothing but the abyss.

'You aren't winning, you know,' she told herself. 'Dreaming of Max – even dreaming of being married to Max – you are just losing more slowly.'

She though back to her last time in the abyss with him, not just the passion – although that certainly HAD been stimulating – but the pillow talk. That bothered her – the part about the artificial womb – the things that 'Max' had described to her. It wasn't something she would have ever thought about had he not mentioned it, but once he did it all made such good sense. And yet, if he was a figment of her imagination how could he tell her something that she didn't already know?

Was that how original ideas came about - the light bulb coming on over someone's head like the cartoonists drew? Did your subconscious put together facts that you knew – synthesize them in new ways – was that the way original ideas sometimes popped up?

'Or is that really Max and Isabel that come in to my dreams?'

Occam's razor said no. And when you thought of the odds... the story was just too fantastic to be credible. Three people on Earth who were from ' up there'? And she knew all three? And two of them were in love with Maria and Alex – her best friends? And Max – who despite her giving him some pretty clear indications that she was interested as far back as junior high school – had never indicated any interest in a romantic relationship whatsoever?

And she was now married to him?? No, it made a whole lot more sense as the insane meanderings of a damaged brain than it did as any sort of reality.

'Would Max really love me so much that he'd kidnap me – just to keep me from wasting away inn a nursing home? Not dream-Max, but the REAL Max?'

How could she tell. She didn't REALLY know that Max – never had.

'Which is odd, really,' she thought to herself. 'After all these years – ever since third grade – I still don't really know him. What DID keep him so distant for all those years.....?' she asked herself.

Unfortunately, that particular light bulb – that particular subconscious synthesis of all the clues that would have told her it was his own alienation and fear of discovery- that light bulb never came on – and gradually alone in the darkness Liz lost self-awareness again with that question unresolved in her trauma-damaged brain.....

It was four days later - and very near to 3 AM at the Evans' house. Of course, the three people in the house were sound asleep – one of those hanging out in the somewhat bedraggled dream-orb that originated in a substantially impaired brain in an artificial cavern almost 14 miles north of the Evans house. Of course even that person wasn't paying any attention to goings-on at the Evans house itself. She was busy talking to her sister-in-law about a matter of considerable importance.

It wasn't the most important subject, Izzy realized, but she could scarcely talk to Liz about the continual deterioration of the abyss. It wasn't like Liz could do anything about it. But girls are romantics and they like to gossip – and it's at least something they had in common that didn't have to do with Liz's deteriorating status.

“I do not believe,” said Liz, “...that you haven't gotten past coffee dates.” That wasn't quite true. Liz actually didn't believe any of this – but it was a welcome diversion from her previous self-awareness session – when once again neither this dream-Izzy nor her dream-husband had been there for company, and the abyss had seemed so small and empty.

“Yeah, well I think Alex has as much difficulty in believing I'm real as you do.”

“It's difficult to believe that Ice Princess Isabel would have difficulty getting asked out, that's all,” said Liz, not wishing to restart the debate with Izzy on whether or not she was the manifestation of a separate mind rather than Liz's own subconscious.

That issue, of course, was apparently unprovable – and a Gordian Knot just to think about. The assertion by 'Izzy' that Isabel Evans – ranking member of the Ice Princess Posse - was having romantic problems didn't do anything to buttress 'Izzy's credibility however.

“I don't have any difficulty getting asked out – guys ask me out all the time – just not Alex. At least not to anything more than coffee dates.”

“Well maybe if you went out with one of the others he'd get jealous...?”

“I don't want one of the others. Trust me, Liz, once you've seen into the dreams of half of the guys in our class – well it would have been enough to make me go into a nunnery – at least if it hadn't been for
Alex. But I've got no experience – what's the expression – vamping someone? First of all, I've never had to so I don't know how. Secondly – well that isn't really what Alex wants – I've seen his dreams …. I know.”

“Well what DOES he want?”

“He wants to dance – but he won't invite me out to any dances – and he wants me to marry him and have his children – the latter problematic at best – but he won't make any moves on me?”

“Well why don't you make some moves on him?”

“Because I'm afraid it would really scare him. He just can't bring himself to believe I might really care for him.”

“I still think you ought to go after him in his dreams. Tell him that dreaming about you having his kids just isn't going to happen unless he somehow makes the jump from dancing to – uh – more serious courting activity.”

“But that's still tempting him under false premises – that is if I can't really someday have his children...?”

“Remember that old jump rope song from third grade – K-I-S-S-I-N-G? 'First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage?' You need to get him to stage one first. You needn't worry about babies until and unless you get to the going together seriously stage.”

“But how can I do that if I know ahead of time...?

“I told you – tell him the truth – just in his dream-bubble...”

“...orb...”

“OK. Dream-orb then. Tell him the truth – see how he takes it. But before you do, at least let him know you love him and that you wouldn't be offended if he reciprocated a little.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so,” said Liz with a big smile.

“OK, I guess I'll give it a try...” said Izzy doubtfully. “Any other advice?”

“That'll do for now. Oh, but I do have a request – from your brother.”

“What does Max want?”

“Specifically, a couple of cases of water, a couple of cases of ensure, A case of Depends, and a whole lot of Mac and cheese.”

“How do guys survive on mac and cheese? No veggies – fruits – just mac and cheese?”

“I have no idea. I guess, since he's mine, I'd put in a request for you to get him a better balanced diet than that – you know, healthy food.”

“You want anything besides the Ensure?”

Liz looked around the abyss doubtfully. “I don't actually even taste the Ensure – even assuming this fantasy is all real. If I do actually have a husband though, maybe a little lip gloss would be nice. Some perfume too. Who knows, we may tempt him to do something with that inviolate virgin body you talked about laying next to him at night.”

“Max? Somehow I doubt it. But I'll toss in a tube of lip gloss, some perfume, maybe even a little blusher. Last I saw you were looking a little pasty.
But I doubt seriously it'll make that much difference to Max. He already thinks you are the most beautiful person in the world – he always has. But until and unless you are really there with him I think your body will likely remain inviolate. I just wish now I'd have let him act on those feelings rather than pushing him to stay away from you back before the accident happened. You are awfully good for him. If you hadn't married him, I'm not sure he'd be holding it together right now....."

Liz still couldn't make herself believe – but even so – the words of 'Izzy' left her with a lump in her throat. She really would love to be loved that much – and needed that much. But even as she was thinking that she felt her hold on the abyss weakening and self-awareness once more drifted away from her.

Isabel returned to her own body just briefly – then sent herself off looking for Alex's dream-orb. With practiced ease she found it.



Outside the Evans house, however, there was activity of another sort going on:

Jeff was wearing levis and a dark sweatshirt and doing his best not to make noise. He didn't want to be seen – not that being seen was real likely. The nearest street light was half a block away, and at 3AM there weren't a lot of people out in a small town in eastern New Mexico. The black jeep was parked in the carport along side the garage, and that area was particularly well shielded from the light. The jeep had no top and no way to lock the hood – just a couple of external hook-shaped latches to hold it down.

It had been easy enough to attach the wire splice to the hot wire going to the ignition switch and to run the wire out under the front bumper to where the GPS tracker was attached. The tracker had its own nicad battery but it would continually draw off the jeep battery and be kept fully charged this way. It wasn't a perfect system.

Once the car was outside of cell phone range – not all that far out of town – it couldn't give real-time position reports. But if the reports couldn't be given it would store the info – off load it to the GPS tracker website as soon as it did re-establish contact with a cell tower.

Jim had the tracker set up to record position every two minutes – the shortest interval its programming would accept and he'd download it from home on the new laptop he'd bought.

It wasn't that he didn't like Isabel – she'd been nice enough to Liz – it was just that he was pretty sure that Max couldn't last on the run – particularly if he was running with a comatose Liz – without help. He doubted that either of the parents would assist Max – they'd made it plain enough that they didn't condone what their son had done and were already looking to prepare some sort of a mental derangement defense with the psychologists who'd treated him. But Isabel was his twin sister and that implied a special closeness.

Sooner or later Max would contact her and sooner or later she'd try to help him. When that happened, Jeff Parker intended to get to Max – get to him before the sheriff or the FBI or anyone else. No, he wasn't going to let some idiot spouting psychobabble get the boy off on some technicality – not if he'd harmed Liz in any way, and after over a week it seemed impossible that he wouldn't have harmed her – if only from neglect.

'But he wouldn't have kidnapped her if he'd wanted to neglect her,' he reminded himself. 'Hell, he could have done that in a nursing home...' NO, the Albuquerque police were plainly correct – Max was obsessed by Liz.

'That monster is probably taking advantage of her right now...,' he told himself.

He finished the connection and attached a ground to the frame completing the circuit. Then he made sure the antenna wasn't shielded and crept quietly out from under the jeep and jogged slowly back to the Crashdown.

In the meantime, 14 miles north, Max hung another bag of ensure for Liz's nasogastric feeding tube, turned her for the twentieth time in the last 24 hours so she wouldn't get bed sores, and started her second round of physical therapy. In an hour or so he could get back to his books and try again to figure out the theory behind the stasis chambers. He was worried more than he wanted to admit. Liz's dream-orb was getting smaller and she was able to keep it in existence for shorter and shorter intervals. They weren't out of time yet – but it could only be a matter of months...

It was three days later at 2:30AM when Isabel finished her latest dreamwalk with Liz. Liz had chided her – again – for not being more assertive in the dream-orb with Alex, but that was easier said than done. When Max had to explain to her about them – well it was a different sort of situation. For one thing, there wasn't a damn thing that Liz could have done about it. After all, the girl had been in a coma. What's more, the girl had been isolated for so long – solitary confinement in the abyss – that the poor girl would have been happy for the company, even if they'd been honest to God bug-eyed monsters – sensory deprivation would do that to people. The situation with Alex wasn't exactly parallel.

Granted, it would be safer explaining it to him in the dream-orb. Like Liz, he almost certainly wouldn't think that anything she tol him was any more than a figment of his imagination – just a dream that was turning out to be a little weird. And of course, if he really freaked out – just couldn't take the 'not of this Earth,' business, even in a dream....

'In that case, Izzy,, she told herself, '... you've really got no chance with him – no chance at all.'

Except of course that she wasn't going to do it right now... No, it wasn't just that she was too worried at how he would react to be able to bring herself to face him right now – although there was something to that. But she'd set the alarm even before she'd dreamwalked Liz, because she had something else that she had to do first. With any luck at all she'd be back in bed in an hour and a half. Maybe then she'd find the courage to start to work on Alex. Right now she had something else to do.


The unmarked car was parked just over half a block away, and it was only the second night it had been there. The two occupants – both members of the US Marshal's Service - had been borrowed by the FBI to augment the people working this case and the senior Special Agent, Bob Phillips, had them watching the house, just in case Max Evans might sneak back for food or money or help. The idea that someone might sneak OUT of the house hadn't really occurred to anyone, but as soon as they saw the black jeep start up and pull out of the driveway with no lights they were immediately on their cell phones back to the sleeping Bob Phillips.

“Phillips,” he said as he fumbled for his cell phone. He'd been sound asleep in his hotel – helped along by a couple of stiff drinks.

“Posner from the Marshal's service – we're on stake-out at the Evans residence..”

“Has the boy shown up?”

“No, but we've just watched the black jeep leave quietly with no lights on. It appears that the kids sister is going for a ride.” He watched as the jeeps head and taillights came on at the ed of the block as the jeep turned left onto an arterial going north.

“Follow her. Don't let her see you – see where she goes.”

“Will do,” said Posner, closing his phone and turning to the other Marshal – the one behind the wheel. “We're supposed to trail her...”

The black Crown Victoria – nearly invisible in the darkness - pulled away from the curb and put its lights on as it followed the Jeep down the dark street and turned left. The jeep was clearly visible about a block ahead.


Izzy headed north about three miles until she was outside the city limits before she pulled off on the gravel road. Maria and Michael had bought the needed supplies earlier in the day – then stashed them in a shed in this old gravel pit. She loaded them in the back of the jeep quickly and was soon on her way back to turn northwest on the old Albuquerque road.


Once there was no other traffic and no good way to conceal themselves, the US Marshal's car fell way back – almost a mile behind the jeep. It wasn't like they could lose the girl – at this time of night hers was almost the only other vehicle on the road. Even so, when she pulled off onto the gravel road they thought they'd screwed up – closing to almost a quarter-mile as they expected to follow her down the road. When she pulled back onto the old Albuquerque highway she took them by surprise. They quickly pulled over to the side of the road and turned their lights off.

As she pulled out of the gravel pit Izzy was surprised to see the car coming up fast – more surprised still when it pulled over to the side of the road and turned off its lights.

'Am I being followed?' she asked herself.

She couldn't take the chance. She quickly accelerated the jeep to sixty miles per hour – five miles an hour faster than the speed limit – and watched carefully in the mirror. Before she'd gone quite a mile the car had turned on its lights and started after her again. It could certainly have been a coincidence – but how could she take that chance?

She drove on about a mile before taking a left turn to the west – away from the podchamber where Max and Liz were – and where she herself had been found by her parents along the old Albuquerque road. Max and Liz needed the supplies – she'd have to get them there – but first she'd need to lose the tail if it was one. A mile later - when she saw the car take the turn onto the side road to follow her she was pretty sure she was being followed. She could lose them – she had little doubt of that – they'd planned for just such an eventuality. What they hadn't planned for, however, was how to explain her being out at 3 AM. If her parents found out – or if this really was the police – she needed some sort of an alibi.

'Cross that bridge when you get to it – if you get to it,' she told herself.

Looking in the rear view mirror she kept traveling down the road – going west – and watching the car behind her.

They'd gone west on the secondary road for almost three miles when they saw the jeep in front of them slow – it couldn't be going more than 15 miles per hour – and despite themselves they had closed to within a half mile or so. It wasn't like they could really conceal their presence from the jeep – they were the only two cars within sight and it was pitch black out. Of course, that worked both ways. There was absolutely no way they could lose the jeep either – or at least that's what Posner thought until their headlights illuminated the sign that said 'End of County Maintenance.' But that was only half the problem – almost immediately the lights of the jeep went out.

The paved road had become gravel right at the sign – within a quarter mile the gravel had become sand and she'd geared down and put the jeep in four wheel drive. A quarter mile further she'd come to the arroyo and turned the jeep into it - dousing the lights as she did so. There was only about a quarter moon but it would be enough light – barely – for her to do what she needed to do.

She drove the jeep slowly northward – the high ground clearance of the jeep only barely allowing the transmission to pass over the boulders that the previous thunderstorms had washed down into the arroyo. In another half mile she'd come to another gravel road which she could take westward again for a mile or two before catching the new Albuquerque road northward again – after ten miles or so she could cut over to the east and pick up the road she had been on – cut south again on the old Albuquerque road.

She wouldn't have to go to the podchamber itself – just stash the supplies behind a rock near where she and Max had been found by her mom and dad. The podchamber was a half mile up a small canyon from there that was too narrow to be accessible by vehicles. Max would pick up the stuff and get it back to the podchamber on foot once she'd left the area and he'd determined she hadn't been followed. At least THAT part of it they'd planned ahead.

“I think she turned right – up this dry creek bed,” said Posner. The driver instinctively turned the Crown Vic to the right. They hadn't gone four car lengths before they slammed to an abrupt halt as the transmission case high-centered on a boulder. Posner got out with a flashlight and looked underneath the car – the offending rock was awash in transmission fluid.

“Shit,” he said, “...we aren't going anywhere.” As he picked up his cell phone he learned about problem two... “...and no friggin 'cell phone service either....”

He had been sleeping – but only sporadically. Somehow his dreams tonight just weren't the same. That's why he was laying there – staring at the ceiling – when there came a tapping on his window. Alex looked out in the dim moonlight and saw her face. He opened the window at once.

“Isabel – what are you doing here?”

“Shhh....,” she said hurriedly, “...don't wake your parents. I need your help. Would you get dressed and come outside? The jeep is down the street...”

She left the window quickly – not even waiting for an answer Of course, Alex didn't even hesitate. He dressed quickly and went out the window in the direction Isabel had gone. She was already at the wheel of the jeep and started the engine as soon as she saw him. He jumped in and had the vehicle in motion even before he had his seatbelt fastened. Two blocks later they were back out in the desert and she found a dirt road. A mile or so later she pulled over in the middle of the desert and turned the engine off, turning to face him.

“Alex, I'm sorry to do this to you – you wouldn't believe how sorry – but I have to ask you a favor.”

:What is it, Izzy – I mean Isabel?”

“I need you to trust me Alex, when I ask you to do something for me – to lie for me. I can't tell you what this is all about – not now. Someday I will, I promise you. But I promise you it's nothing bad – nothing that you wouldn't do – if I could tell you.”

“Who do you want me to lie to, Isabel,” Alex asked cautiously.

“My parents – maybe. The police almost certainly.”

“The police? But Isabel...what is this all about?”

“I told you, Alex. I can't say – not now at least. All I can do is to ask you – please trust me.”

Alex looked at Isabel's face – her eyes seemed to plead with him – and finally he nodded.

“OK, tell me what you want me to do.”

“Well, first we have to go out to Lookout Point at Lazy Lagoon.”

“We have to do – WHAT?” said Alex in disbelief. Lookout Point was an area in Bottomless Lakes State Park East of Roswell. There were lots of places around Roswell where teenagers went to make out, but Lookout Point was the ultimate. The park was closed after sundown – although there were numerous areas where you could get in with a four-wheel vehicle like the jeep. The reason for the disbelief though was that Lookout Point had a reputation. You didn't go there just to kiss – you went there for some SERIOUS making out – the kind that warranted using protection.


“I said we have to go out to Lookout Point.” She looked at him quickly, then returned her eyes to the road. Even in the moonlight he was obviously blushing.

“But Isabel, I don't think we should...”

Isabel felt her own face flush as she realized what he was no doubt thinking. “Uh – we aren't going to – do that I mean. We need to go out there just to leave some evidence that we were there. We aren't really going to … uh ...do anything.”

“Well of course,” said Alex, “I mean I certainly didn't really expect you to uh – really do anything.”

Isabel blushed even more strongly. She hadn't meant to lead him on – or embarrass him. In fact, if she were only human she would have not been above going – well, not all the way certainly, but just as certainly a considerable ways farther than Alex would have suspected she'd have gone.

“I've been out driving around, Alex, and I think the police have seen me. I got away from them but I need to be able to explain what I've been doing all this time. I thought that we could go up to lookout point, spread a blanket out on the ground and – I don't know – just look at the stars or something. Then I collect a few grass stains on my clothes and leave a scarf there or something so when they ask me where I was, I can say we were up at Lookout Point making out and when they check it out they see I really was.”

“Oh, I get it – then I say the same thing and I'm your alibi,” said Alex, nodding his head.

“You needn't sound quite so - relieved – about it Alex. Us faking it that is...” said Isabel, fighting back the urge to grin.

Alex wasn't sure what to say. Had this been his own Izzy he might have come back with some brilliant riposte – but probably not. Even in his dreams with Izzy, he danced with her and dreamed about her someday being his wife – but somehow he'd always been too shy – even in his dreams – to even DREAM about getting to second base with her. The whole notion of he and Isabel Evans together – even in a dream – seemed like a fantasy. Actually chumming around with her – like he'd done since Liz had been injured – had been unlikely enough. Actually doing boy-girl stuff … well, she was just out of his league. It was embarrassing that he'd even implied that he thought she might really do – it – with him. 'Not even in your dreams, Alex,' he told himself, which thus far was quite true. To her he simply replied what seemed to him to be the obvious.

“I don't know what you WERE doing, but it must have been pretty awful if you'd rather tell the police you were rolling around in the grass with me at Lookout Point.”

“Some day I'll tell you, Alex. I promise,” she told him.

'...and if that works out, maybe someday I will roll around in the grass with you at Lookout Point – or anywhere else you want...,' she thought to herself. 'Of course, first we've got to get through tonight...'


It was almost twenty minutes later that they got to Lookout Point. The view of the night time sky there was simply awesome. Isabel shut off the jeep and picked a blanket up out of the back seat to spread it out on the grass. She sat down on the blanket and motioned for Alex to sit beside her.

“Look,” she said, pointing at the sudden flare of a meteorite. “A shooting star...”

Alex sat beside her and looked up. “It's the time of year for the Perseid shower. Out here away from the city lights we might be able to see one a minute.”

“Look there,” said Izzy, laying back on the blanket and pointing toward another quick bright flare across the heavens.

“I saw it. The bright star there is Vega. Below it and to the right is the constellation of Aquila – the eagle. Down south there is Scorpius, and to its right is Libra.”

“That is so cool – how come you know all the names?”

“I don't know all of them … but I know the most obvious ones. A misspent youth earning cub scout badges, I'm afraid. I used to lay out in the back yard for hours just looking up at the stars – wondering about them. Wondering if there was someone out there looking back at us...”

“What did you decide? Do you think there are people out there? Other civilizations?”

“I'm not sure. There are so many stars you'd think that some of them would have planets with life – what do you think?”

“I think so,” said Isabel. '.... at least one, anyway...' “Alex...?” she said, finding his hand with hers...

“Yes Isabel...”

“Thanks for doing this … for trusting me,” she said, looking in to his eyes.

Her eyes seemed to swim in his vision and he suddenly found himself leaning forward – his lips brushing softly – hesitating – then pushing softly against hers. Just for that moment she wasn't Isabel Evans in his mind – she was his own dream girl Izzy and he brought his free hand to her hair and kissed her with the sort of passion he'd always wanted to have in his dreams and could never quite bring himself to have. It was several seconds before he came to his senses,

“Sorry,” he said, pulling back away from her. “I got carried away I guess.”

“Don't be sorry.... I'm not. But we'd better go – we need to get back before daylight....,” she said. '....while I can still make myself leave....'