Roswell Fanatics

It had only been fifteen minutes - that was all the time that they'd had to spare, and they were now speeding down the streets of Roswell on their bicycles, figuring that they would just barely manage to be to school on time. It had been time well spent and a number of issues were resolved. It wasn't like it has been though - those carefree days of their youth.

Oh, they'd had a good talk. Max had been horrified when Liz told him about the exploding pressure cooker - but then laughed - and then commiserated with her - when Liz told him about the stupid things Pamela Troy had done that had driven their joint lab grade so low. Liz had allowed as how once this year was done she'd be desperately looking for another lab partner in eighth grade - and both agreed it'd be nice to be back together then. Liz had asked about paleontology the next summer and then changed the subject when Max had looked pained and started to stammer.

But if the pain of their argument was no longer as acute for either of them, it wasn't exactly gone either - or at least if it was it was now replaced by a sort of aching emptiness where it felt like something else should be - something that clearly wasn't there.

Still, a lot HAD been accomplished in a quick meeting and it was more than hot chocolate or the exercise of the fast pedaling that warmed Liz's heart as they arrived at the bicycle stands in the school yard. For her - well at least she had the plan and the plan allowed for the contingency that things might not proceed just as fast as she might like.

For Max it was a little different. It was a relief to have Liz not angry with him - to have at least to some degree his best friend back. OK, so they couldn't be close like they had been - that might keep Liz from finding her own special someone - but they could be friends and be cordial and next year they could be lab partners again. And they could be like that in the years to come - at least until Liz really DID find her own special someone.

When he'd awakened this morning that outcome would have been all that he could have ever asked for and he was still grateful for it - but as he helped Liz chain her bicycle to the rack - watching her breasts rise and fall as her respiration tried to catch up with the exertion of the long sprint form the doughnut shop, somehow something deep inside him said that a casual friendship wasn't enough - that watching her find her own special someone would be more painful than anything he'd ever experienced in his whole life.

But listening to that tiny voice buried deep in his subconscious threatened to take him down corridors of thought that he knew were never going to come true - corridors where just thinking the thoughts frightened him. His rejection of that tiny voice was automatic - taken without any real conscious thought.

If you open yourself to hope, you also open yourself to disappointment or worse - despair. You open yourself to admitting your own loneliness and need - he couldn't do that - not to Liz - not even to his own parents. No - he'd settle for what he had - parents who loved him because they didn't truly know him, and Liz who could be his friend as long as he kept his secret from her too.

"Thanks, Max," she said, squeezing his hand, ".. maybe we can meet after school - ride our bikes to the Crashdown and share a Martian Blast sundae or something..?"

"Yeah, Liz... I'd like that," he said as he watched her hurry off to her first class. Funny - he'd never really realized - not in all these years - just how beautiful Liz was. Whoever she chose to be her special someone would be a lucky human being indeed.

Three days later:

Latitude 5' 30" South, Longitude 23' 40" West

The freighter was old and poorly maintained. Like many old and poorly maintained freighters, it had Panamanian registry and flew a Panamanian flag. It had, however, never been to Panama. The Panamanian flag it flew was truly a flag of convenience. The owner sent Panama the registry fees, the Panamanian government sent them the paperwork indicating that the ship had been inspected and passed and was duly licensed to operate in international commerce in Panama - and through international treaties that Panama had signed - throughout the world. It was rumored that the Panamanian government would have a website up by next year which would allow the process to be completed without the inconvenience of any paperwork at all.

It was six days out of its usual port, Cartagena Columbia, enroute to Papua New Guinea where it's cargo would be offloaded to lighter and faster boats - better able to evade the Royal Australian Navy as they made their runs in to a half-dozen coastal areas from whence the cocaine could be trucked in to the cities. On the return trip it would be met by small vessels off the coast of Karachi Pakistan where it would pick up a sizable cargo of opium base to be returned to Cartagena where the morphine would be extracted and converted into heroin - likely to be the cargo for some future trip northward where it too would be offloaded - this time in cigarette boats along the panhandle of Florida.

The 'captain' of the vessel was below decks in his cabin in his usual state - drunk. The first mate - only one of three 'officers' on the vessel who knew enough to actually stand watches ( a group that did not include the captain) - was on the bridge. It had been an uneventful watch - the course had been carefully chosen to keep the vessel clear of the normal shipping lanes. It was only as the first mate went to log this otherwise uneventful watch that he noticed that the barometer had fallen precipitously - just in the last hour.

Eight years ago the first mate had been the third officer on a respectable passenger liner - before he himself had been caught using drugs on duty. Despite his current ready access to such drugs - the first mate himself had successfully rehab'd - although not quickly enough to save his maritime career with any respectable shipping firm.

Eight years ago he would have gotten on the radio and given the US Coast Guard a SEAS report. The anomaly could possibly indicate weather brewing that could seriously affect other ships in the future. But then the first mate remembered where he was and what they were doing and put it out of his mind. One more opportunity for the quirky little tropical low that was forming to become known to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration had just been lost.


Back in Roswell-

There's one in every eighth grade boys PE class. Generally they can hide it until they get in a locker room surrounded by other boys - then they have to show just what sorts of dorks they really are. In this class it was Charlie Gresham.

The eighth grade PE class was just finishing. They'd played soccer up until the coach had sent them to the showers ten minutes ago. Many of them had just gotten out of the showers - a very few were just finishing up - and about a half dozen had just changed back into their street clothes - their classmates would be trying to keep upwind of them for the last couple periods of the day. These were the group that Gresham was currently trying to impress.

In fairness to Gresham .... well, why should we be fair to Gresham - I already mentioned he was a dork. But perhaps a little background is in order. Charlie Gresham was the new kid. Oh, he'd been there the whole school year - his father was a senior production manager for an oil company that was putting a new system in place to inject water in the ground to force more oil out of older wells . That's why he'd come to Roswell over the summer from Houston. Houston, of course, is a big town, and people come and go from it all the time. There is less mobility among the small towns and rural areas of New Mexico. Roswell had 45,000 inhabitants making it the fifth largest town in New Mexico, but the whole town was tiny compared to Houston's nearly two and a half million - in fact Houston's population exceeded that of all of New Mexico by a considerable margin.

Anyway, Charlie Grisham was the new kid - despite living in Roswell for more than six months - and he was a year older than the other eighth graders - the consequences of repeating the Third grade - and he considered himself quite a bit more worldly and mature than his small town fellow students having come from the big city. Also - he was the one in every eighth grade locker room who believed he could prove his manliness by being crude, rude, and lewd.

As Max Evans and a couple of other seventh graders who had their previous class in close proximity to the gym came in and began to suit up, Charlie Grisham was just getting going. He was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist - clearly the least apparel you want to have on in a junior high school boy's locker room where towel-snapping your classmates butt is considered somewhat of an art form - and enough guys had gotten done with their showers and started dressing to be an adequately sized audience.

"Any one notice perfect Parker today?" he asked to no one in particular. The seventh grade girls had just gotten done playing soccer on the girl's field and had doubletimed from the field back to their own locker rooms right past the eighth grade boys. Liz had spent the game in goal and her team had only won because she'd stopped one shot on goal after another. The goalie's jersey - added to the standard junior high gym outfit - Red t-shirt with the school name printed on it and her name in indelible marker and white shorts - had been really hot in the afternoon sun. The sweat from the heat and the exertion had pretty well plastered her t-shirt to her sport's bra once she took off the goalie's jersey, and it hadn't been just Grisham that had admired the view as she jogged by.

"Perfect Parker has some pretty hot hooters....," said Charlie. Now normally at least a third of the class - determined to show that they were as suave and debonair as Grisham - would have probably laughed at the comment - or made a few themselves. But they weren't the new kid on the block. Most of them knew - if only by whispered story and reputation - what had transpired with Billy Souto and all of them had heard about Max taking the guy over the cliff. So they sat there speechless - not laughing or saying anything while their eyes begged Charlie Grisham to look behind him and see who was listening to what he was saying - except of course, Grisham didn't know the history and wouldn't have known Max's nane unless he read it off his t-shirt. So like the dork he was - did I mention Grisham was a dork? - he went on to even cruder things, trying to impress the audience.

"Man, I was tempted to reach out and grab a handful of that as it jiggled by - second base on the fly..." Instead of laughs, all he got was wide-eyed looks of shock and disbelief - obviously a bunch of rubes.

"You know, I've seen better - I mean, hooters that is - but Parker does have one fine ass on her too - that makes up for being a little shy in the hooter department."

The silence was deafening - not just rubes, but a tough audience. Well there was something that almost always worked.

"OK, I'll tell you what. We have the all-school dance coming up in five weeks. If she goes to the dance I'll ask her to dance with me. She'll accept because I'm a big eighth grader and more sophisticated than the rest of you guys - and I'll bet you that I can cop a feel right out on the dance floor and she won't even tell the chaperones - hell, she'll probably love it."

Fred Gilland was actually somewhat of a dork himself, that's why he associated with Grisham, but he knew Max and he'd seen him break Souto's arm - the kid had been an absolute iceman coming out on the playground and provoking Souto and then just snapping the arm like a friggin twig. He would always remember the expression on the kids face as he did it - he had barely looked human - about like he was looking now. "Uh, Grish, maybe we ought to just break this up and go off to our next class? Before this goes too far?"

"Too far, you ain't SEEN too far. After I get her warmed up - moist and ready - chances are she'll just jump at the chance to jump my bod... I can see us now, off in some back room while everybody else is at the dance, ... screaming at me to give it to her...deeper ... deeper....Oh, yes!," he shouted, still wondering why nobody was laughing as he worked his hips back and forward in what he apparently believed was simulated sex...

Max had been trying to ignore the words of the big stupid eighth grader - he didn't even know him. It was only locker room talk - just some jerk trying to impress the guys. There was a kid like that in his gym class as well - although at least he had the good sense to talk about Pamela Troy - and the way she acted around the guy it was almost believable. But this was Liz and what the guy was saying - Max could feel the anger grow in him - he felt his fists wanting to pound the boy's face - smash in to the mouth that was saying that about his ... his ... his ... friend.

He wasn't sure just how he got to his feet, but suddenly his fists were clenched - suddenly he was off the bench and his steps were taking him directly toward the large boy.

As he continued pumping his pelvis, wondering why he wasn't getting any laughs, he heard the footsteps behind him. Grisham turned quickly - suddenly afraid that it was one of the teachers who had come in the door from the hall and overheard what he was saying. He should have been so lucky. The kid's head only came up to his chin, but the impact of his body sent him sprawling on the cold hard concrete of the locker room floor.

"Hey, who do you think you're running in to?" he asked in surprise and pain.

"Nobody," said the boy, "...nobody and nothing..."

Grisham figured he could take the boy in a fair fight - he was sure of it. But those amber eyes - they didn't look like a fair fight was what was intended - and even if the boy was shorter and lighter he had a decided tactical advantage standing over him - Grisham feeling pretty vulnerable naked except for a towel.

"Well, I'll let it go this time," Grisham blustered, "... just don't let it happen again."

Somehow sanity returned to Max. OK, he told himself, it was just adolescentt locker room talk. Liz wouldn't want me to actually damage the guy even if she'd heard it. Besides, eventually she almost certainly would even want someone ... sexually. Someone ... human. Someone with a lot more class than this guy.

"Right," said Max. "Let's not let this happen again. It might just get out of hand," he finished as he walked through the doors into the gym.

"What's HIS problem?" asked Grisham as soon as Max had left.

"Parker," said Gilland. "He's had the hots for her since the third grade. I don't think he liked what you were saying."

"Third graders don't have the hots for anyone," said Grisham. "Besides, even if he did, he doesn't scare me."

"Yeah, well Evans probably didn't scare the guy who tried to rape Parker either," said the seventh grader from two rows back, "...at least not up until the point where he figured out Max was going to kill him."

Grisham looked into the faces of the other eighth graders in disbelief, waiting for them to call the seventh grader a liar - but their eyes told him the kid was telling the truth. All at once he ran toward the toilet - he was going to be sick....

One week later:
65 degrees North Latitude, 25 degrees West Longitude

The Sargasso Sea is an area of floating seaweed of the genusSargassum in the north Atlantic beginning east of Bermuda and continuing almost 2000 miles eastward toward Europe. Its north-south distance is approximately 700 miles giving it an area of approximately 1.2 million square miles. In earlier years sailing ships avoided it – not so much because of the seaweed, although the floating mats of Sargassum are capable of immobilizing small sailing vessels, but because of the tendency of this area to be becalmed. Known to mariners of previous centuries as the doldrums or horse latitudes, it was avoided by commercial sailing vessels – and that tradition continues to some extent even today.

The Sargasso Sea plays a distinct ecological role in the life of two species – Anguilla rostrata, the American eel, and Anguilla anguilla, the European eel. Adults of both species make their way back to the Sargasso to lay their eggs – their offspring to be nurtured in the ecosystem of the Sargasso Sea for up to three years before making their way back to their fresh water adult feeding grounds to mature for anywhere from eight years to several decades before again finding their way back to the Sargasso to spawn and die.

Both species of eel had been heavily impacted by over fishing and 95% of the population of adults was already gone. The European eel was protected in many parts of Europe. In the United States an attempt had been made to put it on the endangered species list but – well, the eel wasn’t a very attractive looking creature. Had it been a cuddly harp seal or even a huge leviathan whale there would have likely been a public outcry and boatloads of environmentalists to cruise the Sargasso and harass and document the fishing there. Instead there were just a small fishing fleet – laboring to catch the adult males for their meat and the adult females for their roe – to sell to a lucrative Asian market for sushi. The Sargasso was very much a no-man’s land in the ocean. The fishing there largely unregulated by anyone actually patrolling.

But eels weren’t all that was being nurtured in the Sargasso Sea this week. The tropical low had crossed the equator which by itself was often enough to destroy small weather systems as the struggled to transform their rotation from clockwise to counterclockwise. The pressure gradient on this one was quite high, however, and it had managed to survive the transition and was now once more gathering strength over the warm moist waters of the Sargasso.

Nine different fishing vessels were affected by the small intense tropical low – none of them reported it. The European vessels because they were fishing illegally - had they reported the weather they would have given that fact away to their own governments – the American vessels because they didn’t want competition from their own fellows – the stocks of eels were dwindling enough without helping the competition to learn where your catch was coming from.

Thus nine more opportunities for NOAA to learn about the tropical low were missed.

It was a week after the incident with Charlie Gresham when Max, Liz, and both pairs of parents met with Mr. Raff and his wife in the small room in the Crashdown generally set aside for birthday parties to discuss the upcoming weekend trip to Colorado. Of course, Liz didn't know about the incident with Charlie Gresham. All she knew was that somehow the plan had gotten off track.

Exactly how the plan had gotten off track, Liz really wasn't sure. For the first few days it had seemed like old times - not yet the start of anything more than friendship - but Max had been all smiles and there had at least been the hope that in the coming months the friendship would morph into something more. Unfortunately, that hope seemed to be fading, and she wasn't sure why. For no apparent reason he'd sort of withdrawn a week ago. Oh, he was cordial enough when they met, but - well if he wasn't going out of his way to make sure they didn't meet he was at least going to no special effort to see that they did. Oh, when they did meet he was cordial enough - Liz had been hoping for something better than cordial though....

"First of all," said Mr. Raff, "..you'll have to sign the permission slips for Max and Liz to go to Boulder to the Western Regional Science Fair at Boulder. As you may know, it's being held at the University of Colorado fieldhouse - the college has reserved one of their new and yet to be opened dormitories for contestants, judges, and chaperones. Mrs. Raff and I," he said, smiling at his wife, "... will be doing the preliminary judging of projects from out of the Clovis district while other judges will be judging Liz and Max's group. We will be leaving Friday at 5PM from Roswell Airport on Mesa Flight 526 and should be arriving at Denver about three and a half hours later - unfortunately that flight is somewhat of a milk run - and we'll be bused to Boulder from there. We'll stay in the dorms - eat in the university dormitory dining halls - and the fieldhouse will be open at 8AM to start assembling displays. Actual public viewing won't start until 10AM and preliminary judging will be done between noon and 5PM. Sunday the finalists will be judged starting at 10AM with the awards ceremony at 2PM. By 5PM we'll all be back on the bus to the airport. Liz and Max will be taking Flight 527 back to Roswell. Mrs. Raff and I will be going the other way - to Joplin Missouri to see her folks - but we'll be sure that Liz and Max are taken care of before we go. Now are there any questions...."

Max was sure that Mr. Raff was babbling about something, but he was paying scant attention. He was still in an emotional turmoil about the last week - wondering just what he could do. It had started after PE - an hour after he'd decked Charlie Gresham. He barely knew the kid but he'd been so damn mad at the way he was acting - the way he was portraying Liz - that he was surprised he hadn't powerblasted him. And that's sort of what he'd heard in the murmurings from his classmates as they had been showering and getting back into their street clothes - they'd thought Max was going to kill Gresham. Oh, he knew it was hyperbole - they hadn't actually thought that he would LITERALLY kill Gresham, but the rage he'd felt - he wasn't so sure that he hadn't briefly thought of killing him.

Max had read a book after that about modern courting. It had been written by one of his mother's college friends who had stayed on to become a professor at her alma mater and sent to her as a gift. Its title was The Modern Guide to Romance. It was apparently required reading for freshmen males at his mom's undergraduate college now.

The book had told how it was - well not normal really - but rather common for guys to have sexually explicit impulses - but that prior to acting on any of these impulses the male needed to discuss these fully with the female and obtain her consent - preferably in writing - detailing just to what extent sexual liberties were to be allowed. Absent that, an attempted kiss was sexual harassment, a stolen kiss was assault, getting to second base was a felony..... etc.

Now Max was probably the least socially aware kid in his class, but even he knew better than that stupid book. That simply wasn't the way it was done. He'd witnessed it. You could practically feel the fear coming off guys as they went for that first kiss - opening themselves up to rejection. You didn't have to be connected to the person to know it was traumatic - you could see them sweat. There was an elaborate process of picking the right time and place and then getting your lips near the girl's - bringing them slowly forward and watching - trying to gauge her willingness - not really committing to the kiss - maintaining the plausible deniability that you were - I don't know - admiring her mustache or something - right up until the moment that you were sure that - hell you were never sure - right up until the moment that your desire to actually touch lips with the girl overcame the fact that you were scared shitless of rejection and let your lips touch. Now THAT was reality - at least in Roswell New Mexico. It was almost enough to make you glad you were an alien and would never have to do such things.


No, you didn't have some sort of a feminist legal contract, you had a scary process of nonverbal clues that could be oh-so-easily misinterpreted and cause disaster - that was the way it was in junior high school , and while Max had never really witnessed anyone getting to second base he was pretty sure that THAT particular process was even scarier - probably for both of the people involved. In fact no one in his seventh grade class had ever claimed to have gotten to second base - to have actually touched - the thought went back suddenly to the day at the arroyo. His hand must have gotten stung a dozen times crushing those scorpions but it HAD ACTUALLY brushed against her - Max sighed - what a great day that had been in retrospect.

Max shook his head and tried to concentrate - remembering back to the day in the locker room. It had become apparent to him that even by being near Liz he was going to intimidate guys - that was obvious from all the locker talk about his altercation with Gresham and all he'd actually done was to knock the oaf down. And although Gresham was an oaf and rude and crude - and although Max was certain that Liz would never want anything to do with someone like that - she would want someone - someone human - and he - Max Evans - didn't want to scare that someone off.

Because Liz, he thought as he looked at her and felt his heart melt, deserved happiness - deserved the kind of affection and love and - that special someone - that being a freak had always denied him - and always would. Yes, Max told himself looking at her beautiful face - watching her hair fall softly across her shoulders as she turned her head to look at the map of the University of Colorado campus that Mr. Raff was pointing to - Liz deserved only the best. He hoped she'd always be his friend - just not too close a friend - because he didn't want to scare away her true happiness. He'd even give up her friendship if that was what it took - he'd do anything for her.

Diane looked at her son. His eyes were curiously unfocused. She hoped he was paying attention - this would be his first time really away from home since - well, since she found him on the desert. She looked at Liz - at least she was paying attention. Hopefully Liz would keep him out of trouble.

Nancy looked at her daughter and tried to still her fears. Liz was almost the perfect child, and she couldn't deny her daughter this trip - young as she was. It was just that the girl was such a trouble magnet sometimes. Without Max she'd probably not even be here right now. Nancy looked at Max and somehow felt reassured. Max wouldn't let anything happen to her daughter - he never had.

Liz looked back at Max, who seemed to be shuffling through the handouts that Mr. Raff had given out. They were going to be going off to a college together - OK, not Harvard and MIT and not for very long - but a real college. They wouldn't know any of the other kids there - the other kids wouldn't know them. All at once she thought of the commercial she'd seen yesterday on the TV. It was sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce of Las Vegas Nevada. It said, What goes on in Las Vegas, stays in Las Vegas.

It was an opportunity to get the plan back on track, she thought, a smile coming over her face. Liz Parker didn't give up on anything if she really wanted it - and Max Evans she really wanted.

Lat 25 deg 14 min North, Long 97 deg 27 min W
El Te , Tamaulipas, Mexico:
It was Friday afternoon by the time the tropical low finally made landfall along the sparsely populated coast. On the ground it went entirely unnoticed. Not so in the air. AeroMexico Flight 281 from Chicago to Acapulco intersected the edge of the tropical low at 42,000 feet and encountered severe clear air turbulence resulting in four people being thrown about the cabin. It declared an emergency and diverted to Ciudad Victoria where it landed. Blood alcohol tests done on the pilot and copilot revealed 0.11 and 0.13 respectively and they were both arrested. The local prosecutor gave no credibility to the claims of the aircrew that the aircraft had been on autopilot at the time and that it was a weather phenomenon – not anything they had done – that had caused the passenger injuries. After three hours another crew was found, and the aircraft continued uneventfully to Acapulco.

Holloman AFB NM 1600 (4PM Mountain time):
“Nighthawk One – you are cleared to Dulles Airport via Holloman Eagle departure – fly runway heading - climb and maintain one-one-thousand – expect higher three minutes after takeoff.”
Rabbit heard the Wing King read back the instrument clearance. Then the Colonel’s voice said “Nighthawk Flight – button two,” and he switched quickly to tower frequency.

“Nighthawk One – flight of two - ready to take off Runway seven.”

“Nighthawk Flight – cleared for take off runway seven – have a good flight, sir.”

“Cleared for takeoff, runway seven, Nighthawk One…”

“Two…,” said Rabbit as he throttled his F-117A up adjacent to and slightly behind lead. He watched for the head nod and added power – keeping just aft of lead’s wing line. They were off to Dulles Airport as a two ship – but he’d be coming back alone with the last operational F-117 in existence.

5PM Friday Roswell Municipal Airport

Mesa Air Flight 526 taxied from the gate and Liz waved madly back at her parents who were standing beside Diane and Philip Evans at the fence outside the terminal.

She was in seat 4A , Max was in 4B - he’d given her the window seat – behind the Raff’s in 3A&B. It was the start of a great adventure – and an opportunity to get the plan back on track. She’d have him all to herself – well, herself and 114 other entrants, 37 other judges and chaperones, and a few support people, but it was a start. Every good plan needed a good start. But Liz smiled as she remembered what she’d read in the package Mr. Raff had given them two days ago.

The University of Colorado, Liz realized, was no Harvard – but they were trying to upgrade their science curriculum and get science-minded students to attend. That was obviously why they were sponsoring the regional science fair competition in their field house – even giving the science fair entrants the use of their newest dormitory. They were also sponsoring a dance –with the entrants as invited guests - Saturday night in the cafeteria that the new dorm shared with the undergraduate dorm next to it. No doubt trying to recruit high school kids to consider going to the University of Colorado. But it provided a mechanism for her plan.

The critical thing – of course – would be to get Max to go to the dance at all. The rest ought to pretty much take care of itself. They were the only junior high school students among the entrants – obviously they’d wind up dancing with each other. Away from their Roswell friends and family – well, maybe Max wouldn’t be quite so shy. Liz had always felt that he was more easy-going when it was just the two of them Maybe she could show him that he really wasn’t all that different after all. It was worth a try, anyway,

Max watched Liz wave out the window.

Well, he’d made it – he was going to be along on her trip to Colorado –that had been the original goal – just to make sure that she was safe. But now he had another plan – he’d been mulling it over since he realized that other kids in their class were avoiding Liz – denying her the chance to find her own special someone – because what he’d done to Billy Souto and Charlie Gresham and – most definitely – the man who’d tried to kidnap Liz. But especially he’d been mulling it over the last two days since he read the handout that Mr. Raff had given them.

The University of Colorado, Max realized, was no MIT – but they were trying to upgrade their science curriculum and get science-minded students to attend. That was obviously why they were sponsoring the regional science fair competition in their field house – even giving the science fair entrants the use of their newest dormitory. They were also sponsoring a dance –with the entrants as invited guests - Saturday night in the cafeteria that the new dorm shared with the undergraduate dorm next to it. No doubt trying to recruit high school kids to consider going to the University of Colorado. But it provided a mechanism for his plan.

The critical thing – of course – would be to get Liz to go to the dance at all. The rest ought to pretty much take care of itself. They were the only junior high school students among the entrants – but there were plenty of ninth-graders. Two years difference in age was not an uncommon occurrence between human females and their male special someones – it was actually about average. Away Roswell – well none of these guys would know about his history with Liz – none would have any reason to believe that he and Liz had any sort of a male-female bonding attachment – or that they couldn’t ask Liz for a dance – or that I might break their necks if they hurt her, Max thought. He winced even as the thought came unbidden in to his head. He had to give her up if she was ever going to find her true happiness and that was the very sort of thought he had to avoid – even if it was true.

Liz had no future with him – he was just a freak. But if he could get her to dance with the other guys there – take some pictures for their junior high newspaper and yearbook – he could accomplish a couple things. The first was to get Liz thinking about finding her own special someone – and not tying herself down trying to help Max Evans become less socially inept. The second would be to begin the step that would convince the other guys in Roswell that Liz Parker was indeed available without fear of intervention from Max Evans. Once that was done, any of the normal guys in her class would be idiots not to ask her out. Max knew that he would for damn sure be asking Liz out if he were them. Unfortunately, he wasn’t – as much as he wished things were different.


200 miles east over Amarillo, Texas, Flight Level 230 (twenty-three thousand feet, roughly)

“Nighthawk One – Albuquerque Center – You are cleared to climb to Flight Level 350. Change to my frequency now 121 decimal 15.”

“Climb and maintain Flight Level 350, change to 121 point one five – Nighthawk One”

Rabbit clicked his mike button twice to indicate that he caught the altitude and frequency change. Good wingman weren’t supposed to say anything on the radio but “two,” “Bogey at ‘x’ O’clock,” and “Lead – you’re on fire.” Nighthawk one wasn’t burning and it seemed like the skies over Texas were clear of enemy aircraft at present, even a “two” would have been superfluous. Already his thoughts were turning to the flight back on Sunday night after the airshow was over and packing his bags for F-22 transition training.




800 miles south, El Parral, Mexico.

Normally a moist low pressure area – even one as concentrated as this one – would start to show visible moisture as it moved over the land. Air cools as it rises – and the farther it gets from the ocean the higher it rises. Normally that means that satellites would pick up such a low pressure area – even if there were no ground stations to note it’s low barometric pressure. But not so here in the desert of Mexico a hundred miles west of the Rio Grande. The land was hot and – despite the vast moisture held in the low pressure area – the sun baking the land kept clouds from forming as it added energy to the low pressure area that was gradually working its way up north parallel to the Rio Grande – still not detected by any weather forecasters.

Dulles Airport 2145 (9:15PM Eastern time/8:15 Mountain time)

"Nighthawk One - you are cleared to land - runway one-niner right," said the Dulles Tower.

"Cleared to land one-niner right," repeated lead, and Rabbit clicked his mike twice to indicate that he too had gotten the radio transmission. He brought the aircraft into a tight right fingertip and stayed directly on the wing line of his wing commander. No doubt the local news would have cameras filming the arrival. Not the sort of enter from an overhead initial and break to land in trail at four second intervals that fighter pilots actually preferred - but it was the way they'd briefed this landing. The PR guys loved formation landings - not that they were exactly difficult on THIS runway - miles long and designed for jumbo jets. He touched down in perfect position - the squeak of rubber contacting the concrete coming through his aircraft just as he saw the blue smoke and dust come from the lead aircraft's tires. They had arrived.

Twenty minutes later Rabbit watched the staff car with the wing commander depart for Bolling AFB. As of right now, the two aircraft were his. Well, his and the security detachment and maintenance people from Andrews AFB who were already taking all the top secret black boxes out of the wing commander's plane - preparatory to the ceremony awarding it to the Smithsonian tomorrow night. If things went smoothly, in another hour Rabbit would be in the Dulles Marriott - calling home to Suzanne and drinking a cold beer.

Arapaho Trail Hall, University of Colorado, Boulder Colorado 8:15PM Mountain Time

Alexis Rudman looked at the dorm room - it was going to be crowded. It was obvious that the University of Colorado was trying to build up their science program. That was why they were hosting this regional science fair and providing housing. It was also apparent that they were trying not to spend too much money doing it - although that might be a secondary consideration. High school age boys would be boys and girls would be girls and by putting three to a room designed to hold two it certainly cut down the chance that any individual male and female would find themselves alone - 'More's the pity,' she thought. She'd never really liked group showers or bathrooms either. The college she would be attending had better facilities. Still opportunities like this weekend didn't come along all that often - they came - in Lexie's opinion - way too damn seldom.

Alexis Rudman was - well very much like what Liz Parker would have been had Liz not been such a trouble magnet and been born in different circumstances. Lexie was of near-genius IQ and she'd come to Boulder Colorado with a hidden agenda - one that involved the opposite sex. Lexie was a senior - attractive - taller than Liz - brilliant - already admitted to CalTech for the coming summer quarter. Like Liz she was from New Mexico - Albuquerque to be exact. Her father worked at Sandia Laboratories. Her father was the trouble, she thought - not for the first time - as she sighed deeply.

There was a knock at the door and all three girls turned - it was Mrs. Armbrust - the chief girls chaperone. "Miss Rudman ... could I speak to you privately for a second?"

'What could I have done already?' Lexie asked herself as she followed Sarah Armbrust down the hall to the considerably larger room normally used by the Resident Adviser for this floor. It was empty - at least of personal property - although it had a double bed - a small living area - and obviously a private shower/bathroom. A twin-sized bed had been moved in to the living room but even so - the place was much nicer than her room. Now THIS would have been more like it.

Sarah Armbrust watched the girls eyes take in the room and smiled. "Yes - it's considerably less cramped. As it happens it is going to be available. The chaperone who was supposed to use it - Mrs. Raff - is married to one of the male chaperones. They'll be staying in the adviser room on the floor below this one. How would you like to have this one - with just one other girl to share it with you?"

Lexie was born in the morning - but it wasn't yesterday morning. "What's the catch?" she asked.

Mrs. Armbrust sighed deeply. “You are, I suppose, familiar with the change in the science fair rules that allowed junior high students to enter? It was supposed to encourage students to become involved in science at a younger age and eventually lead to a greater number of better prepared entrants?”

“Yes,” said Lexie, nodding her head. It had sounded good in theory but the results in Albuquerque had been sort of unimpressive. Not a single project of a junior high student there had come close to even making the preliminary cut – the majority of them being simply poor science – the contestants of the few projects that were good science not really having put the effort in to their projects to really be competitive against the high school students’ projects. “I wasn’t greatly impressed.”

“And in general, that’s probably reasonably accurate. None of us expected any of the younger students projects to be competitive enough to get this far – that’s probably why we were somewhat unprepared when two did.”

“And this has what to do with me…,” said Lexie, her eyes looking at the full-sized bed and small but tidy bathroom/shower facility. There was a microwave and a small two burner hot plate too. “… and this room?” she continued.

“Well, it seems that two students significantly exceeded our expectations – both of them seventh graders – and one is female. The committee is understandably reticent about allowing her to run around campus unsupervised – on the other hand if she had someone – sort of like a big sister – to look after her….?”

“I gave up baby-sitting when I turned sixteen – and trust me, my hourly rate before then was high enough that I could have rented a better room than this for forty hours of sitting.”

“Well, we naturally wouldn’t expect you to be with her every minute. During the time the exhibits are open you of course would be with your project – and she with hers – even after hours you wouldn’t have to be with her every minute – just be here at night when she was here and be aware of where she was other times – sort of like a big sister,” said Mrs. Armbrust smiling hopefully.

“Have you ever played Liar’s Poker Mrs. Armbrust?” Lexie asked with an innocent smile.

“No, I don’t believe so.”

“Well don’t – because you wouldn’t be any good at it. Tell me the whole story…”

Sarah Armbrust sat down. “Well, I don’t have the WHOLE story, but I’ll tell you what I do know.”

Lexie sat down in the opposite chair. “Well go ahead and talk.”

“According to Mrs. Raff this young lady is really a lovely young lady - it’s just that…,” Sarah seemed to be trying to put the best spin possible on something. Finally she found the right words, “… it’s just that she seems to be somewhat of a trouble magnet when it comes to school related activities like this.”

“In what way?”

“Oh, no specific way…,” said Armbrust.

That response earned Mrs Armbrust a disapproving look from Lexie. Eventually the woman wilted under the gaze. Lexie just tilted her head and looked at her speculatively, saying nothing. Eventually Sarah gave a deep sigh and continued, “… well, she might have mentioned the girl getting stung by a nest of scorpions on one outing…”

At that Lexie almost smiled. That wasn’t so bad.

“… and then there was a field trip where she got kidnapped by a sex offender….”

“She what?”

“Oh, I don’t know the details but it apparently turned out OK. Someone stopped the man before he actually got her away from the field trip area and she wasn’t really hurt…”

“No way! I am going to enjoy the company of my peers here,” said Lexie. One in particular she had in mind. “I am not going to baby sit some disaster-prone seventh grader who probably doesn’t know the periodic table from her own period just because some district had high school projects so lame that some seventh graders beat them out.”

“Actually – that part isn’t true. The two students projects are very competitive – particularly the girls. I’ve read the synopsis already and they likely would have been selected in the top three in any of our districts – even Albuquerque. It’s just that they are so young….”

Lexie looked at the room and thought how nice it would to have the sort of privacy here she would never have in the three- person room crowded with beds and suitcases – particularly if this Liz would cooperate a little. Her eyes went back to the double bed – No, she decided, as nice as it might be she almost certainly wasn’t going to lose her virginity on that bed sometime in the next forty hours. That particular pleasure would likely have to wait another five months.

Still, Doug and she were entitled to a little private time and it had been almost three months since she’d seen him. They were going to do more than hold hands - that was for damn sure - and going past second base was certainly well within the bounds of probability. She was reasonably sure there were places around where they could find privacy – but what were their chances of finding one in the few hours that they would have available when they weren’t giving their presentations? This might actually be their best opportunity – if this Liz character could be convinced to find something else to do for a few hours.

Besides, the Law of Regression to the Mean meant that if the girl had already had more than her share of problems it was likely she'd revert to a more normal distribution now....

“OK, Mrs. Armbrust,” said Lexie. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you Miss Rudman. The committee will be a lot more comfortable knowing that you are taking the young lady under your wing…”

8:40 PM Mountain Time, Denver international Airport

"I've got your bag, Liz," said Max.

"The presentation posters ...?"

"Got them too, yours and mine."

"OK, looks like the Raffs have their stuff - and that must be the shuttle bus that they are pointing at. I have my purse - so I guess it's time to go," Liz said.

Two minutes later the four of them were sitting in the shuttle bus heading for another terminal where - allegedly - there were two more students to be picked up, the bus driver insisting that once that was done all of his pickups were accounted for and he could drop them off at the University and go home. Liz looked across the aisle to the bench the Raffs were sitting on. They were sitting together - the outside of Mr. Raff's right thigh and the outside of her left thigh in near constant contact - even though they weren't really doing anything other than reading. They had been that way throughout the flight - nothing really sexual - just constantly managing to touch one another. Of course, they were practically newlyweds.

Still, that hadn't stopped Liz from noticing - and contrasting it with the way that she and Max had barely touched at all throughout the trip. She had packed sandwiches from the Crashdown - for all four of them - the stuff they fed you on airlines these days barely qualified as edibles and on small regional aircraft like this one it was even worse. His hand had touched hers - briefly - as she'd passed him his sandwich and chips - she thought she had actually made more contact with the Raff's when she'd handed them theirs though. But throughout the long flight - it had been a milk run with three stops - Mrs. Raff's hand had always seemed to be in her husbands.

OK, she knew she and Max weren't married - they were just friends and apparently not even all that close anymore - but would it have hurt Max to just lay his hand on top of hers for a few seconds? They shared the same damn armrest. Twice she had slowly - casually - let her hand drift up against his. Twice he had slowly - casually - pulled it away.

OK, they were just friends - he hadn't promised her romance - but still, the contrast couldn't have been more stark. Now riding in the bus she watched the two teachers - imagining her thigh against Max's thigh - their buttocks in contact on the bench. How hard would it have been for Max and her to share a little casual closeness?

It wasn't going to happen though - Max was keeping at least six inches away on the bench. It was - to say the least - not an auspicious start to a weekend where she had hoped she might make some progress on her plans to form a relationship somewhat closer than mere friendship.



Max looked sideways at Liz on the bench. He was trying to ignore the trace of scent in her hair from her shampoo - honeysuckle he thought - it had been a constant distraction throughout the flight. No, that wasn't fair - a constant ATTRACTION was more like it. Liz had always been pleasant to look at but the past few years..... Wow.

What was more, she seemed oblivious to just how beautiful she was - oblivious to how much she warmed a room just by her presence. That naivete' - that - innocence - made her far more desirable than the in your face attractiveness that Izzy and her posse of would-be super-models aspired to - at least in Max's opinion.

'But it's not your job to find her attractive,' thought Max. 'You're here to protect her and to let her start to learn how to find her own special someone that she finds attractive. Someone who can be her soulmate . Someone - normal.'

And he accepted that, he told himself. Accepted that he had to give her up for her own happiness. Accepted that only with another normal person could this beautiful Liz find her true destiny. He was her friend and could never be anything more than that and because she was so wonderful - even being her friend would be enough.

But nonetheless, as the bus traveled the little access road between terminals in the darkness, he couldn't keep his eyes off her beauty. Oh he wasn't obvious about it. The lights in the bus turned every window into a reflecting surface. Even as he gazed away from her he could see her beauty reflected in several windows - from several different angles. She was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. Or was the hurt, a small voice in him asked, because you know that you'll never have her?

He pushed the thought from his mind. There was too much pain down that road - pain for them both if he went there. There'd been enough pain for both of them since he'd walked away from her last Spring. He couldn't bear to put either of them through it again. He turned his head away from the reflection in the window and closed his eyes. He wouldn't let it happen again. He loved her too much to let it happen again.


Max scooted a few inches sideways on the bench - increasing the distance from Liz by a trivial amount - but doing his best to build an emotional barrier. He didn't want her hurt - he was only protecting her - and himself.

'This is not working out noticeably well,' thought Liz. It wasn't just that Max wasn't sitting close to her. It was that he was ignoring her altogether. He wasn't even talking to her - just staring out the windows while she was sitting here not eighteen inches from him - a distance that seemed to be gradually increasing. The plan had been that - not knowing anyone else in Colorado - he'd pay more attention to her. That definitely wasn't working - and no doubt he'd pay even less attention to her when they picked up the two people waiting at the upcoming bus stop. Liz sighed deeply. 'The best laid plans of mice and men ....,' and fourteen year old girls too, evidently.

Max looked up as the bus came to a stop. Two guys got on. One looked to be about eighteen - the other maybe fifteen or sixteen. Both were carrying display boards as well as their baggage, pretty much guaranteeing that they were science fair entrants.

"Thanks," said the oldest one as the driver helped stow their display boards in the luggage rack. "Sorry to be so late - San Francisco was fogged in and we were over two hours late taking off."

"No problem, I had to be here to pick up those four anyway," said the driver, nodding his head toward the four people seated further back in the bus.

Max watched the older boy seem to take all four of them in with a friendly nod of the head - before turning back to stow his carry-on in the luggage area. But it was the younger guy that got Max's attention.

The younger student placed his own carry-on in the luggage rack and then turned to face them. His eyes scanned the back of the bus as he took in the people sitting there. Three people were scanned quickly - but his eyes lingered on Liz - not her face - but her body. The boys brief contemplation of Liz made Max feel anxious. It was like the look a hungry carnivore would give a rare steak. Instinctively Max started to move to place himself between the boy and Liz but then froze as his brain took over from his instincts.

The opportunity to meet others - to start the process of finding her special someone - that was what Liz had to do if she were ever going to find true happiness. He couldn't keep her away from every guy who thought she was ravishing - hell, she WAS ravishing. Max kept his place as the boy started to move toward the back of the bus.

His name was Jimmy Drevins - well, James Drevins III actually, and he had just turned sixteen. His parents were each rich - they were no longer together - but each did compete for his affection through the gifts they bought him and the money they gave him. He had a rather luxurious room in each of their houses. He went to the best private school in the Bay area - had a new Porsche that his father had given him for his sixteenth birthday and had a steady girlfriend - two of them actually, one in Marin County where his mother lived - one in Berkeley where his father lived - although he was growing tired of both of them.

Generally his steady girlfriends lasted about three months - then he tended to pass them along to someone in his posse of hangers-on - it would be difficult to call them friends - friendship at some level has to be reciprocated. But even so, it wasn't like he was exactly starved for female companionship - he simply liked new conquests - any way he could get them. The girl was a little young - but he'd had them younger - and she was a hot looking little thing - no doubt about that. Jimmy eyed the area on the seat between the two students and decided he'd fit there nicely. No time like the present to get started - he'd only be in town about 40 hours.

Liz absently noticed the young man walk toward her in her peripheral vision - she was still doing a slow burn over the distance Max seemed to be keeping from her. But something in her subconscious was watching the young man - apprehension growing as it started to realize how much the young man's expression as he looked at her resembled the look the kidnapper had on his face just before he'd pulled her into the car. In another few steps he would have been sitting beside her - another few seconds he would have been introducing himself to her - starting the process of making his next conquest - if something hadn't happened.

"Have a seat," said Max, smiling up at the boy and scooting himself over against Liz to make room.

Whatever chance that subconscious voice had to warn Liz was instantly gone - overtaken by the warm glow that Liz felt heating up deep within her abdomen as she felt Max's calf against her calf - Max's thigh against her thigh, his shoulder touching hers. OK, so it wasn't exactly an embrace. Maybe it was only being courteous in offering the other guy a seat. It was a start.
At least he wasn't staying away from her like she had cooties any more. This might be a good weekend after all.

"Hi, I'm Doug Hanover," said the older student, holding out his hand toward Mr. Raff. "I take it that you are one of the science fair judges?"

"Yes, I'm Mr. Raff, this is my wife. We are preliminary judges and chaperones."

"Pleased to meet you both," said Doug. He fought back a grin as he saw Jimmy Drevins first glare at the young man in the black leather jacket and then sit down beside him, looking blankly out the window. The Drevins kid knew a fair amount about science - but he was as obnoxious a little prick as Doug had ever met. A real horndog too - the kid had even been trying to hit on the flight attendants. Served him right to have someone cut him off at the pass, so to speak.

"And these two are your kids?" asked Jimmy, putting on a somewhat forced smile. It was always worthwhile to talk up the judges in his opinion.

"Yeah, right, Jimmy," said Doug sarcastically, "... like this attractive young lady started having children when she was twelve?" he went on, indicating Mrs. Raff " I doubt she's twenty-five even now."

"Flattery is not going to get you extra credit on the judging, young man," said Mrs. Raff - but her smile was genuine enough. "This would be Liz Parker and Max Evans - they are our regional winners from Clovis."

Doug smiled at both of them. "Congratulations. You guys must be in what - eighth grade?"

"Seventh," said Liz. Max just nodded his head.

"Seventh, huh? And I had it on such good authority - all the way here - that there probably wouldn't even be any other ninth graders here - that no one ever got this far in the competition as a mere freshman. Now I find that two junior high schoolers did. Well, congratulations to both of you." Doug just smiled at Jimmy. That arrogant little twerp had annoyed him for two hours blabbing at him while they were waiting for the fog to lift and for over a thousand miles since. It was past time for him to get a little comeupance. The boy just looked out the window sulking. They all rode in silence the rest of the way to the university.

Max sat there - trying to concentrate. He was trying to ignore the scent of honeysuckle - trying to ignore the warmth of her skin against his upper arm and lower leg - the fluttery feeling that went through his stomach when the bus would hit a bump and his buttocks would push briefly against hers - the feel of her upper body pushing softly against him with each breath she took. He had no idea what had possessed him to move here - it was obvious that the boy hadn't really wanted the space he'd offered him - and now that he was here he was struggling desperately.

He didn't want to enjoy Liz's closeness - not nearly as much as he obviously WAS enjoying it. Because she wasn't for him - never could be - but still sometimes the best of us are just plain weak.

He told himself he really wasn't enjoying having her this close - told himself that all the way to the university.

He always knew he wasn't the most honest person in the world - after all he'd repeatedly told his parents he had no idea where he and Izzy had come from. But even he wasn't a good enough liar to carry off this lie, he thought as the bus ran over a speed bump entering the campus and Liz was briefly jostled against him. Her touch sent warmth clear through him and the fluttery feeling suddenly became a butterfly swarm in his belly. This was threatening to go beyond the guilty pleasure stage - he was fighting a near-overwhelming urge to put his arm around her and the aroma of honeysuckle seemed to be doing something funny to his endocrine system.

'Why couldn't I have been born - normal?' he thought, not for the first time on this short bus trip. He centered his eyes on the window across from him trying his best to avoid looking at her - but in the reflection she was so beautiful. Her lips were moist - lip gloss most likely - he wondered how they would taste.

'Like honeysuckle....' he thought.

Fortunately, they appeared to finally be at the dormitory.

9:45 Arapaho Trail Hall, University of Colorado

Alexis Rudman was sprawled out on the bed - web-surfing on her notebook computer - finally unpacked and settled in. She was wearing her usual combination jogging, lounging and, sleep apparel that she brought to these overnight trips - loose cotton shorts with matching t-shirt - the latter with enough spandex in it to keep it draped attractively over her torso with a sports bra underneath to keep herself from being uncomfortable when her jogging pace hit a harmonic frequency with the elastic tissue of her chest which - in the past several years - had developed quite nicely, if she did say so herself.

She heard the steps out in the hall and when they stopped at the door her pulse sped up jusy a little bit - until she heard the key go in the lock. Doug would be knocking - not using a key. 'More's the pity...,' she thought.

NO, this obviously wasn't Doug - who she hadn't seen in three months and wanted desperately to come through that door - it had to be that Elizabeth Parker child. Lexie really wasn't expecting much from the girl but then she was honest enough to admit that her opinion was probably biased - formed as it was in consequence to the actions of the Albuquerque Science Fair organizers and the local TV station. Lexie understood the idea of getting younger students involved in science activities and highly approved. She'd accompanied her father to a number of overseas science meetings and there was little doubt that science and technology education was much more highly honored in other countries than it was in the good old USA, but that still didn't justify the stupid things that the Albuquerque organizers had done.

They'd found a seventh grade girl - a junior beauty queen no less, they apparently wanted to send the message that you didn't have to be geeky to do science - and featured her in a series of newspaper articles. She seemed to do practically nothing herself - just commanding a couple of friends to move things around in front of the cameras. The girls project, for crying out loud, was to build a solar popcorn popper. Like that was hard in Albuquerque, New Mexico. So the girl had gathered up a dozen mirrors and reflected the sunshine on to an aluminum kettle in her back yard - the girl didn't even have the native wit to paint the damn thing black.... she hadn't corrected for the movement of the sun as the day went on and she did experiment after experiment and - get this - her so-called experiments had no hypothesis or statistical analysis worthy of the name. She'd done all this to 'determine' whether Jiffy-Pop, Orville Redenbacher, or generic super-market popcorn popped better in a solar popcorn popper. Lexie still groaned when she remembered the TV station reporter oohing and ahhing over the girl who - if she had a single clue what science really was - sure hadn't been showing it. Fortunately the local judges - many of them who worked out at Sandia like her father - did know science. They'd past right over her project after the preliminary round of judging.

As the door opened and Lexie got her first look at Elizabeth Parker, she wondered if the Clovis judges had been quite that perspicacious. She was clearly an attractive young lady like the other one - but this one seemed to have a friend.

"Here's your displays for your project, Liz," said the amber eyed young man who seemed to be carrying his own luggage and display materials for two.

"Thanks, Max. You really didn't have to carry this for me - but I do appreciate it," said the girl putting down her bag just inside the room and taking the display materials.

"No problem, Liz. I'll come by in the morning and help you get your stuff over to the field house. Uh.... Breakfast opens in the diner at 7AM. We could meet there at 7:30 and still have time to eat and get there to set up."

"That'd be great, Max. I'll see you then, And ...thanks again."

Lexie's opinion mellowed a little bit. The girl in Albuquerque had been a little bitch - obnoxious even to her helpers. This one may not know any science either, but she was at least nice to the young man - not that that would take a lot of effort. Whoever this Max kid was - well, he was sort of a mini-hunk. He reminded her of Douglas back in the seventh grade - back when they were only friends. Like Doug, Max had good manners too - not a trivial issue these days... Although she believed in equal rights for women, Lexie had never been offended when Doug had offered to carry the heavy or bulky stuff. That's what those male biceps were for.

Liz watched Max go back down the hall to the elevator and sighed. It had been a long trip with too many stops and she was tired - but at least the bus ride at the end had turned out to be a pleasant experience. Well, she had enjoyed it - Max had appeared oblivious.

She turned back to enter the room and noticed - for the first time - an older girl - probably eighteen or so - lounging on the double bed. The girl obviously had first dibs on that one - the twin bed over in the small living area was doubtless going to be hers. That wasn't bad she figured, Max was bunking tripled up with the two guys that had ridden in on the bus with them.

"Hi," said Liz, sticking out her hand, "My name is Liz Parker."

"Alexis Rudman," the girl replied, shaking her hand once. "My friends call me Lexie. You can all me Alexis. According to Mrs. Armbrust, who is some sort of a grand poobah around here, I'm sort of in charge of you because your a little younger than anyone was really expecting." She thought it best not to mention the Parker girl's reputation as a trouble magnet. Lexie couldn't see where that would be helpful. "So just think of me as your big sister - big sister who gets the big bed and gets to boss you around," she said, smiling up at Liz from the bed.

"I don't think I'm going to need much bossing around, thank you," said Liz starting to feel a little irritated. "It's been a long hard day - I think I'm going to take a shower and hit the bed - don't get up, I'll take the small one."

Liz put down her suitcase on the smaller bed and opened it up. She got out her overnight kit and her pajamas and headed toward the bathroom. A warm shower would be a lot better company than Alexis.

"See you later...," said Lexie, turning back toward her computer.

'I can hardly wait,' thought Liz.



Manuel Ojinaga, Mexico.

The tropical low was still 150 miles east of Chihuaha, too far away for the weather station there to pick it up. It had been warm throughout the day and the sun baked desert gave up this heat slowly - keeping the temperature far enough above the dewpoint that clouds wouldn't form. It was humid though, even in Ojinaga and at the government weather station there either the barometer or the humidity would have alerted the weatherman that a storm was brewing - would have that is if there had actually been a weatherman present.

Fifty years ago there would have been a weatherman there - hell, three years ago there would have been one there. But there wasn't one there tonight - hadn't been one there for almost three years. Mexico was at war - at war with the narcotraficantes - and it was a war that along the border with Los Estados Unidos de América they were losing. There was no weatherman - no federales - no representative of the Mexican government at all. Mostly there were just frightened people but what figures of authority were present - drug lords and their soldiers - simply bitched about the warm humid weather and went off to the cantina for a cool drink - or to the only establishments in town profitable enough to have air conditioning - the local brothels.