Author:
DocPaul
Email:
Rating:
NC-17
Spoilers:
None. There was no near
fatal shot at the CrashDown of Liz, no Tess…no danger. Just three alien
children raised in Roswell not knowing who they were, just that they were
different, and unable to leave Roswell. Instead of Michael being apart from
Max and Isabel, the three were found in the desert together.
Disclaimer:
The names might be
Roswell’s, but the story is all mine.
Warning:
Dark universe full of
suspense, angst, and violence
Summary:
Michael finds someone
special in his backyard, a woman. And his life is propelled into a web of
violence and intrigue, and it will never be the same again.
Author’s
notes: This alternative
universe came to me and raged out of control. Hope you like it. For
Jackie…..Intern of the Year! This story was written to Staind’s song
“Outside” so I suggest listening to it as you read…..especially during
the Maria painting scene.
Out
of Darkness
For
Jackie
Chapter
1: And you, bring me to my knees again All the times,
“Michael.”
The
man paused as he was opening his front door. Ambushed. Damn. Turning, he
looked at the tall blonde woman dressed impeccably in the latest yuppie
fashion, hair perfect, nails perfectly painted, perfectly shaped and perfectly
unchipped. Perfect.
His
sister. Isabel. His sister, but not his sister. Isabel Evans.
“Isabel.”
Michael
Isabel
quickly scurried inside before he could shut her out. Michael was an expert on
shutting people out, and once he was behind his walls she would not be
admitted. No one was. Not ever. Looking around at the place, she put her
jacket over a chair. Michael’s place was neat, comfortable and very
masculine. No woman had ever lived here, not since the day he had it built.
The front living room had a wall of windows sixteen feet high looking out at
the woods, a place where Michael could see the sky and the stars. All these
years, and he was still waiting. She suspected his bedroom had a skylight, but
she was never invited to tour his home. No one was. Someone might touch his
things.
Isabel
took a deep breath and turned to look at her brother. She reached out to touch
him, but stopped herself and pulled back. Michael hated to be touched. He was
a tall, lean man with a large frame, long limbs, big artistic hands, and a way
of slouching so his height was not so obvious. Isabel was 5’10”, but she
stood over six feet in her four inch heels, and yet Michael still topped her,
even slouching. He slouched to draw himself in, almost in a defensive manner.
Isabel suspected it was his way to go unnoticed. They don’t abuse you if
they don’t notice you.
His
eyes were the same brown as Isabel’s, but different. Hers were darker, but
Michael’s had the warm, smoky, golden tint of a fine malt liquor. And they
were silent, brooding and too deep to penetrate. His hair was a light brown
that was worn long and curling on his shoulders. He sported a scruffy beard,
as if he only shaved once or twice a month. All in all, he was attractive,
made more so by his stand-offish attitude.
“What
do you want, Isabel?”
“I
called.” Isabel swallowed the sarcastic remark she was going to make. It’d
just make him defensive. Piss him off. “I left a message on your machine.
Actually, a few.”
Michael
just shrugged and went over to his answering machine, hit the play button.
You
have six messages….Tuesday, 6:43pm…Michael, this is Sam. Received your
last piece. It looks good. The galleys will be in the mail. Did you think
about the next assignment? Let me know….
Tuesday,
9:36pm…..Michael, pick up the phone…Michael? Well, it’s Isabel. Max and
I want you to join us tomorrow for lunch… no excuses! Meet us at the
Crashdown at noon…..
Wednesday,
12:15pm….Michael, you’re late. You better be leaving right now!….
Wednesday,
1:05 pm….Michael, where are you?….
Wednesday,
1:10pm….Michael, pick up the damn phone!……
Wednesday,
4:45pm….I’m sick of this. Prepare yourself. I’m coming over, and don’t
think you can hide! I’m coming, and I will find you.
Isabel
reached over and deleted the messages. Michael just shrugged and walked away.
He stood in his living room looking out at the darkness in the woods. It was
9:00 in the evening. Isabel must have been waiting for a good four hours.
“Sorry,
can’t make it,” he said simply, not turning to look at her.
“Obviously.”
Isabel sighed and sat on the sofa’s edge. “You’re breaking Max’s
heart.”
“He’ll
survive.” Michael didn’t want to talk about their brother, Max.
Correction. Isabel’s brother, Max. Max Evans. His best friend, his brother,
and...everything. Perfect. Just like Isabel. Max was perfect. The perfect
student, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect future husband, the perfect
son...Perfect.
“No,
he won’t! His wedding with Liz will be ruined if you won’t stand by his
side and be his best man.”
“I
don’t want to be there. Is that so hard to understand? I don’t belong
there...okay?” Dammit... Michael felt his control slipping. Rubbing the back
of his neck he could feel the headache starting low in the back of his neck
and working upward.
“You’re
our brother! Of course you belong there!”
Michael
just gave a bitter laugh and went into the kitchen, leaving Isabel sitting
there helpless. She looked down at her trembling hands. Clenching them, she
swallowed the tears in the back of her throat. Michael.
Michael
came back with an open beer, taking a swig. Isabel frowned, and the concern
increased as she watched him put away the beer in three mouthfuls.
“Michael,
you know we can’t drink!”
Michael
tipped the bottle for the last drop. “I can. Only about one and a half. It
gives me a rush, a little distortion, and blissful forgetfulness.” Michael
sighed. “Go away, Izzy.”
“Michael...”
Exasperated,
his voice rose. “Dammit! I’ll think about it, okay? If you stop pushing,
I’ll think about it.”
Michael
avoided her eyes. They’d be full of pain. Full of disappointment. She just
nodded and left, shutting the door silently behind her as if to not disturb
him any further. Michael took the bottle and threw it against the stone wall
with the fireplace that covered one entire side of the living room. Hearing
the crashing glass and the sound of it shattering to the floor, he sat on the
sofa arm. Sinking his aching head in his hands, he grasped his long hair tight
and pulled. Why? Why couldn’t he
just do what they wanted? He had hurt her.
~~~
“Did
you see him?” Max asked quietly. Isabel nodded and took a seat in the booth
across from Max and Liz. The couple was sitting close together, holding hands.
Isabel just smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Yeah,
I saw him. He wasn’t home and never got the messages.” They both shared a
look, a look between siblings that knew everything about each other. He
wouldn’t have come even if he had gotten the messages. Liz looked at the two
of them, and once again felt on the outside. The tangible bond between the two
was hard to enter, and so most of the time she was just an observer.
Liz
was a pretty young woman in her mid-twenties. It had been seven years since
they all graduated from West Roswell High, and only in the last three did she
really get to know Max Evans. Her long brunette hair was a thing of beauty,
but Max would say that it was her heart that made her beautiful beyond
measure. He finally proposed to her three months ago after a Gomez concert,
and that was only three months after he let her in on his big secret. The
secret that bound Isabel, Max and even Michael into an unbreakable unit. They
were hybrid aliens from the Roswell 1947 crash. They were survivors and they
were alone. Forgotten.
For
two and a half years he was just Max, her boyfriend. Before that he had been
someone she sort of knew in high school. He was a quiet loner with his sister
Isabel and best friend Michael as his only companions. It wasn’t until years
later that she really got up the nerve to ask him out on a date.
For the last year he had been her lover.
After
high school, he continued working at the UFO Center, and she at the Crashdown.
Sometimes Liz would daydream about college, about leaving Roswell, but those
dreams died when she was sixteen and her father was shot during an incident in
the Crashdown. He stepped in front of Liz to push her to safety. He took a
bullet meant for her. And in a flash of powder, the smell of sulfur, her dad
was no more.
After
her father died her mother had a breakdown, and Liz ran the Crashdown with the
help of a day manager while still in school. Her dad would have hated to see
his business and his family destroyed by his death, so Liz stayed. And after
high school, her mother tried to commit suicide when she realized Liz was
thinking of going away to college, so finally she was committed to a
sanitarium for her own safety. Ironically, the hospital bills and upkeep made
it impossible for Liz to leave.
But
until she heard about Max’s secret, she never could understand why Max
didn’t go away to college. Isabel went to the community college in Roswell,
and even Michael went to Las Cruces. But Max became manager of the UFO center.
Around the end of their junior year, Brody, the owner of the Center, asked Max
to increase his hours there. Brody's young daughter had just died of cancer
and Brody just wasn't that interested in aliens anymore. After graduation Max
took over control of the UFO center, and for the last seven years ate lunch
and dinner at the Crashdown. Sometimes with Isabel and Michael, but mostly
alone. That was until Liz finally got up the nerve to ask him out on a date,
anywhere but the Crashdown.
The
front door rang, and Liz frowned. They were already closed. It was Kyle
Valenti.
“Oh,
hi Kyle!”
“Hey
Liz, sorry for the late hour.”
Liz
smiled and excused herself from the siblings. “Not a problem. Sorry, but the
grill is cold.”
“I
was just hoping for coffee?” Kyle said with his most charming of boyish
smiles. Liz smiled back and nodded. Kyle looked over at the two Evans and
frowned. They were always so secretive, but he knew Isabel through his wife,
Vicky, so he knew she was okay. Evans? He was kind of creepy in a shifty kinds
of way, and he never made eye contact.
“You
working the late shift?”
Kyle
nodded. “Yeah, and Vicky isn’t too happy.”
“I
bet.” Liz took his thermos and went to fill it.
Kyle
Valenti was a deputy now for the Roswell PD. His father was still the sheriff,
and Kyle was following in his father’s and grandfather’s footsteps. Kyle
had actually left Roswell to go to college. He played basketball in college
and did really well, but his height was a problem, and he never made it to
professional status. So as college was ending, he married Vicky Troy and went
to the Police Academy in Albuquerque. He wanted to stay there, but Vicky
wanted to go home to Roswell once she knew she was pregnant with their first
child. So three children later, it looked like Roswell was going to be home.
Liz
came back and handed him the filled thermos. Kyle smiled shyly, and they
discussed things, people and joked about old times. Liz and Kyle had dated all
through high school, but he broke it off with her when he left for college,
not wanting to have a girlfriend at home. In all those years they retained
their friendship. Kyle would always be special. He was her high school
sweetheart and the first man she ever slept with. He was there supporting her
when her dad died, and later that same school year when her Grandma Claudia
also passed away.
Isabel
looked over at Liz and Kyle chatting and laughing. Max was watching them too,
but his thoughts were elsewhere. Michael.
“You
need to talk to him, Max.”
Max
just closed his eyes and sighed. “I know. It’s just so hard right now.”
Max looked over at Liz and then moved in closer to his sister. “The visions,
Isabel. They’re giving me nightmares. And I don’t know which is worse, the
nightmares or knowing that it really happened to him.”
Isabel
felt tears flood her eyes. Quickly wiping her eyes she went back to shredding
a napkin.
Last
month, in an unguarded moment while playing basketball with Michael, Max got a
flash from him. Abuse. Years of it. They had never known, or perhaps they
didn’t want to know. Over a month before, Michael’s foster father, Hank
died of a massive coronary and Michael buried him, but the emotions from it
all were still on the surface, and when Max touched him they all came rushing
in at a rate Max couldn’t hold. He fell on the court and blurted it all out
to Michael.
Michael’s
face shut down, and he turned and walked away. He hadn’t spoken to Max
since. Max called after him, but all he could do was watch his brother’s
receding back. It had taken them years to learn to control their powers, and
Michael’s still tended to be the most volatile. Max watched, horrified, as
Michael walked away, blowing out all the glass within reach in cars, houses
and businesses.
The
abuse. It ranged over years, up until Michael was almost eighteen. It stopped
when Michael finally stopped Hank from hitting him in their senior year. He
broke Hank’s arm and that was the last time, but that was eight years too
late.
“He
hates that I know, and that I told you.”
“I
know,” whispered Isabel. Michael hated many things. But that was a big one.
“I tried talking to him, but now he’s so unreachable, even more than
usual.”
Max
nodded. “I wish Mom and Dad had adopted him, too. He would’ve been spared
so much, he’d have felt like he belonged, and he’d have been our
brother.”
“He
is our brother.” Isabel said
angrily. Her twin. Her brother. Lost.
“I
know. I know. But he doesn’t feel
it. He doesn’t know how.” Max gripped Isabel’s hand hard. They looked at
each other and then away. “I’ll try.”
Isabel
looked over at Liz. “Did you tell, Liz?”
Max
shook his head. Guilt. He was keeping secrets from her, and it was wrong. “I
couldn’t. Michael can barely stand her most of the time, but this would be
too much.”
Isabel
nodded. Michael hated Liz Parker. Not really. But enough to avoid the woman.
She was an outsider coming into their tight group. Max listened to her, when
he wouldn’t listen to Michael. And Michael had strongly objected to Max
telling her that they were aliens. Max did it anyway. He couldn’t marry a
woman and not tell her such a thing. He took a big chance that Liz wouldn’t
freak, that she wouldn’t believe or be afraid. But surprisingly all she said
after her initial disbelief, with Max having to use his powers to show her,
was that it explained the strange flashes she got - and the sex.
Sex?
They
hadn’t realized that they were unusual. Michael knew that in college he had
to shake women off him who wanted to make things more permanent, but he just
assumed it was raw talent. Isabel’s lovers over the years never complained,
and since none of them kept anyone for long, it was just an unknown mystery.
That was until Liz Parker explained that having one hour orgasms wasn’t a
normal occurrence.
Isabel
knew Michael didn’t appreciate the distinction, and neither did she. She was
a legal secretary at her dad’s law firm. But her love life literally sucked.
All
their love lives did. Michael had a few affairs a college, but the women
invariably wanted more than he could give, or was willing to give. If they
could handle a physical relationship with no strings, he was all for it. But
every relationship became too messy until finally he retreated back to Roswell
after four years of college to settle into a freelance writing career. After
the first year he was able to buy land and build his own home.
Max
never had anyone except Liz Parker. Literally since he first saw her he was
fascinated, and what was an unrealized boyhood crush became an obsession after
high school. He spent hours eating the greasiest food in Roswell just to watch
her, until that one fateful day when she asked him out. He just nodded because
he couldn’t speak. Isabel had to keep shaking him for the entire three day
wait until the date to get him out of shock.
Isabel
had a few affairs including one with her father’s partner, Jessie Ramirez.
It ended badly when she refused to commit to anything but an affair. It was
because she couldn’t bring herself to confess her alien origins like Max did
to Liz, so she remained unattached. It was unfair to not disclose everything,
but she spent a lifetime hiding in fear.
Roswell
was becoming a lifetime sentence.
~~~
Michael
searched his refrigerator for food. He had forgotten to go shopping again.
Every time he was away on assignment, he let his groceries deplete so he
didn’t have to come home to mold and walking sludge in his refrigerator.
Grabbing another beer, he went to sit outside on the deck overlooking the
woods. His house was built on a hill, so his basement came out on the ground,
and his ground level from the front exited on a deck in the rear. He liked to
sit out there at night looking up at the skies, and wonder why they sent them
here - and why they never came back.
It
didn’t matter. He stopped caring years ago. Basically when he was eighteen.
The day he broke Hank’s arm. It ended then. He didn’t need them any
longer. He didn’t need them to come and save him, give him a home. It was
too late. That year was the year the three of them also had dreams about other
worlds and five stars. They followed their dreams to a hidden chamber and
their incubation pods. They had been engineered and there used to be four of
them. Isabel didn’t talk for days. And Michael just wondered how the hell
such an advanced race could space travel, but couldn’t build him better.
Perfect.
Years
afterwards he roamed, despite the insistence from Max, the King…that they
needed to stay close to Roswell, close to the incubation chambers, and close
to the alien device inside that they never learned to identify or understand.
Michael walked away despite the protests from both Max and Isabel. His grades
were crappy, but he couldn’t sit in Roswell cooking at the Crashdown for the
rest of his life. So he took the frickin’ SATs and scored almost a perfect
score. It wasn’t hard. He went to the library and scanned all the major
subjects, endless amounts of SAT practice books and the entire Cliff Notes
series. It took him an afternoon.
He
didn’t want college, but he liked to read. The slow way. He liked the solace
of words. Words were so simple, so clean, and on a pristine piece of white
paper, they breathed their own life. They made him feel. Nothing else did
that. Just words.
Michael
picked up his manuscript, reading the first chapter for the umpteenth time.
Twelve fucking years! Twelve... and
he never could get beyond the first chapter. It sucked. He could feel the
words in his brain, crowding out normal thought, screaming to be expressed.
And yet when he tried to write them they were all wrong. Michael stopped in
his reading and put it aside. It was all a pile of crap. He hated it. It felt
wrong and dishonest. It was wooden and lacking in inspiration. It was Nothing.
Just like him. He was writing his soul, and it was empty.
~~~
Kyle
laughed at a joke Liz was telling him when his mobile receiver went off. “Valenti.”
“We’ve
got a report of a car crash off 285 close to Fraser Woods. Can you roll on
that, Kyle?”
Kyle
responded to Verna, the dispatcher. “Ten-four, Verna. I’m on my way.”
“Support
units are dispatched.”
Kyle
took his thermos and reached for his wallet, but Liz stopped him. “No
charge, Kyle. It’s on the house.”
“You
sure?”
“Yeah,
so go save someone.” Kyle gave her another boyish smiles, and left the
Crashdown quickly with a slight nod in Max Evans’ direction.
Liz
watched him for a moment and then went back behind the bar. Taking the hot pot
of coffee, she went to refill both Max’s and Isabel’s cups. Isabel just
put a hand over her cup and smiled.
“None
for me. I’ll never sleep as it is. I better leave so I can get to bed.
Tomorrow is a long day.”
Max
smiled when Liz filled his coffee cup with the steaming liquid. “What was
that? With Kyle?”
Liz
just shrugged. “Not sure, some accident off 285 close to Fraser Woods. A car
wreck I think.”
Isabel
just laughed. “It’s so strange to think of Kyle as a police officer. I
still remember him as a jock with a
“They
are a strange couple. Every year Kyle gets more smalltown Roswell, and every
year Vicky tries to retain that polished Cosmopolitan look. Strangely, they
fit.”
Isabel
had to agree. “But their children! What demons! I ate at their house one
time and almost ran to the doctor to beg them to rip out my reproductive
system.” Not that she was using it, or ever would. Isabel checked her watch
and grimaced. Four hours of waiting for Michael was the biggest waste of her
life. “I really have to go. Max...talk to Michael, promise?”
“I
swear. Tomorrow.” Isabel waved and was out the door. She forgot she had
laundry.
Liz
looked down at her cup of coffee. “I’m sorry Michael is refusing to have
anything to do with our wedding.”
Max
grabbed her hand and kissed it. “It’s not that. I swear. It’s me. He’s
upset with me.”
“He
didn’t want you to tell me about...the alien thing.”
Max
blew air from his mouth. “No... no he didn’t.” Max turned and looked at
his fiancée seriously. “It’s not you, Liz. It’s us. It’s a pact we
had since our childhood to protect each other, to never divulge ourselves to
outsiders. Ever.”
“And
I’m an outsider?” That hurt.
“Not
to me, you’re not. You’ll never be, or could be.”
Liz
smiled at his quiet romanticism, that intense dark look in his brown eyes. He
really was such a great guy. And when they kissed, when they touched, it felt
like...everything. She didn’t feel like smalltown Liz Parker, owner of the
Crashdown. She felt special.
“I
wish I had noticed you in high school. That I knew you then, before...”
Max
nodded and took her hand to rub it across his face. Before her father died.
Maybe he would’ve saved him, healed him. He and Michael had been there that
day in the Crashdown. Max had seen Liz standing there, and as he ducked to the
ground with Michael, there was a flash, a cry of ‘Lizzie!’, and suddenly
timeless life in stillframe by stillframe as Mr. Parker,
“It’s
not your fault, about not knowing me, I mean. I didn’t want anyone to
notice. None of us did. I held myself apart, and if I even talked to you it
was in short quick sentences.”
“You
were awfully quiet. I remember my lab partner for three years, and I could
almost count the number of times you actually spoke to me.”
Max
just looked embarrassed. “I was shy.”
Liz
laughed and reached up to hug him, her slim arms going around his neck.
“Understatement. But you’re not shy anymore.”
“No.”
Max laughed his eyes twinkling, and then suddenly serious. “I know this is
wrong. I should be alone, because getting involved is a great risk.” Max
stopped her before she protested with a kiss. “But I can’t care. I tried.
I tried being alone. Isabel does it. Michael wrote the stupid book on
‘Isolation for Those Not From Here’. I don’t want to live and die on
planet Earth alone. You’re the only thing I ever wanted. I’d wait a
thousand lifetimes for you.”
Liz
kissed him, her hands touching his face, stroking the lines of his cheekbones.
Alien? The only thing alien about him was his honesty and his love of her.
Most the time she felt unworthy, just ordinary, but Max Evans’ love made her
extraordinary. Something more.
“I
love you. I think I used to dream about you before I even knew what dreams
were. You make staying in Roswell worth it, worth losing my dreams of
college.”
Max
laughed. “God! You turn me into something totally mushy!”
“Is
that a bad thing?”
Max
thought about it for a moment. “No. I don’t think so.” How could he
complain? He worked at the frickin’ UFO Center catering to alien groupies!
He was an alien working in a cheap tourist trap for alien junkies! How insane
was that?
“Good.”
Liz sat up in the bench seat next to him on her knees. “Then move in with
me.”
Max
paused. Live with her. Stupid. Of course that was what being married meant.
They had been sleeping together for a year now. But his place was his place,
and her place was her old home above the Crashdown. Sooner or later they had
to think about taking that step since married people often lived in the same
house.
“I
leave the seat up.”
“That’s
okay. I clog the drains with my long hair.”
“I
suck at plumbing.”
“I’ve
got one on 24/7 alert.”
“Upstairs?”
“Yeah.
We could live there. I’ll work downstairs, and you can walk across the
street to your work. It couldn’t be more perfect.” It sounded routine,
unexciting, and settled.
Perfect.
Everything he always wanted. To be totally normal. To feel it. To be it.
Human.
“Okay.
Let’s cohabitate, so my mom and Isabel freak out and speed up the wedding
plans. At this rate we’ll be old and gray before the actual event
arrives.”
“They
sure are...thorough!” Max laughed at Liz’s tactful manner of stating the
obvious.
“When
do you want to start?” Max asked with a devil may care look in his eyes. He
felt young. Younger than he ever did all those years in high school or growing
up. She gave him that. A sense of everything being new, fresh and young. She
was his soul.
Liz
just laughed and took his hand, pulling him out of the booth and towards the
back door to the breakroom and the stairs that led upstairs. Max waved a hand,
and heard the front doors lock. With another wave of his hand the lights went
off.
~~~
“What’s
going on, Hanson?”
“Hey,
Kyle.” Hanson looked up from his computer in the car. “We’ve got a car
that was run off the road. The fire crews are still trying to get the flames
under control. I’ve got the license plate. It's an Arizona plate. Just
running it now.”
“The
driver?” Kyle looked down at the car engulfed in an inferno.
“Unable
to say until the flames are out. They’re trying to get it under control
before it sets the woods on fire.”
Kyle
nodded and went down the embankment. He paused on the roadway near where the
car had crashed through the guard railing. There were no skid marks. The car
was either pushed off the road and the driver was unable to brake, or the
driver purposely drove it off. Climbing down the bank, he went to wait as the
fire crews worked.
“Hey
Mark.”
“Kyle.
This yours?”
“I
suppose it's Hanson’s since he was first on the scene.”
Mark
nodded. He and Kyle went to school together, even double dated with his wife
Linda and Liz Parker. Now he was a member of the Roswell FD and Kyle the
Roswell PD, and they met on the city playing fields for baseball, basketball
and touch football. The Roswell PD had a strong basketball team with Kyle, but
the firemen were ruling the baseball diamond, and touch football was a free
for all.
“So
the PD putting a team into the bowling leagues this year?”
Kyle
just nodded. “Yeah. I’m on it, and Vicky is ready to toss me out of the
bedroom. Another night with the boys while she's home alone with the
babies.”
“Three
boys, Kyle. Maybe you should’ve given her a little girl to occupy her
time.”
Kyle
just laughed. That wasn’t funny. Vicky was actually talking about it, and
all Kyle could see was another mouth to feed, and possibly another boy. He
couldn’t keep his demons in clothes as it was, and the only saving grace was
pushing them off on his dad for camping trips and fishing. Even with them
being between the ages of one and three, they ate everything in sight. Cute
little scamps. The twins were the worst. They did tag team mischief at the age
of three!
“Hey,
looks like they got it under control.”
Kyle
nodded and followed Mark down to the site. They approached the hot smoldering
steel with caution as one of the firemen wrenched open the door. It was a nice
expensive car. Small, compact convertible. Looked like it was once red.
“This
is a nice set of wheels...well...once. I think it runs about what my house
cost.” Kyle said thinking of his hefty mortgage.
“Yeah,
other peoples' money.” Mark looked at the car with envy. He was still
driving a twenty year old truck his dad gave him in high school. “This is
probably a mid-life crisis car for some broker or something in Arizona who
traded his old wife up for a 'young thang'.”
“Whatever
you do, don’t say that around Vicky! She’s still trying to lose ten extra
pounds of baby fat from Jamie.”
Both
men laughed as Hanson came to join them. The men watched as the interior of
the car was searched. No one.
“Hanson,
what did you get on car owner?”
“Female
from Tucson, Arizona. A...Maria DeLuca. Age twenty-five. No moving violations,
warrants or outstanding tickets, except for parking. About six parking tickets
unpaid.”
Kyle
nodded. Okay, so not a mid-life crisis car. More than likely, a spoiled rich
kid’s car driving while intoxicated and missed the turn. Too drunk to even
apply the brakes and save herself.
“Deputies,
you might want to see this,” called a fireman. Both Hanson and Kyle went
closer.
Kyle
startled at the barrage of small holes along the side of the car. “Is that
what I think it is?”
“Bullet
holes,” said Hanson.
“Jesus!
So where is our missing Miss DeLuca? And why the hell was someone shooting at
her car?” Kyle rubbed the back of his neck. It was going to be a long night.
“Hanson, we’d better wake up forensics and call the Sheriff.”
Sheriff
Valenti wasn’t going to be happy. If Kyle remembered correctly, his dad, Jim
Valenti was scheduled to play at the CowPatty with his band, the Kit Shickers.
Kyle took out his cell and hit the autodial for his dad. Hopefully he got to
play a few sets.
~~~
Michael
was staring at the sky, not really aware, but actually dozing a little,
waking, and then falling asleep again. Max. Dammit. He promised Iz he’d
think about it.
All
those years he kept it from them. From Isabel and Max. They thought he was out
of control, impulsive and reckless. They could never understand his driving
need to be free of Roswell, free of the Earth, and the desperate drive to find
who he was. They loved their home. Loved their family. It was enough for them.
Words.
He had no words for them. No language he could speak that they could
understand, because they came from different worlds. Abused. Beaten. Battered.
Humiliated. Shamed. Less than an animal. People treated animals more humanely.
He didn’t speak more than a few words by the time he was thirteen. Social
services kept testing his intelligence. He healed too well. He was never sick.
And somewhere along the way, while trying to avoid the strap, he got the
reputation of being a troublemaker. He couldn’t remember when it started or
how.
Max
stole the images from him. It wasn’t Max’s fault. Hank had just died and
it was all very confused. How could he actually mourn that sick fucking
bastard? He even went away to college just to be free of him, free of Max and
Isabel and their perfect lives and free of Roswell. Free of an image he
couldn’t erase, or even wanted to. He didn’t care what people thought of
him.
Michael
reached for his fourth beer. He had spaced them out so they wouldn’t affect
him so much. He knew that he could almost drink two, wait a little while until
the edge wore off, and then finish the second. And if he waited a few hours he
could do it again. Another legacy from Hank. Drowning himself in booze. Was he
the equivalent of an alien alcoholic? Working on it.
Michael
stood up quickly, knocking his beer over at the sound of a noise. The metal
lawn cans behind the woodpile. Dammit. It was too early to worry about
raccoons, but they had made a mess of the place last year. Vaulting over the
side of the railing of the upper deck, he landed softly and surprisingly
gracefully for a man of his size and height. Moving slowly in the dark, he had
his hand up ready to blast the frickin’ ‘Coon’ to hell. He wasn’t
spending his summer picking up garbage spewed all over his place. Last year he
called animal control and they showed up at the end of the season to vacate a
family of six out of his storage shed, but not until after a long summer of
hell.
Coming
around the woodpile he didn’t register the figure at first, his first
impulse being blast first and ask questions later. It took a few moments for
him to realize he had just sent a young woman crashing against the side of his
house. Her silhouette dropped to the ground like a ragdoll in a crashing 'Umph!'
and a heap. He winced, then cussed. His heart was beating a mile a minute. Oh
god! Rushing to the small broken figure, he was shocked that before he could
move to touch her, or check her out, she was awake, and scrambling away from
him.
Green
eyes, wild, confused, and unfocused peaked out from messy blonde hair. The
entire left side of her face was bruised and swollen, and a cut on her scalp
was bleeding all over her clothes. She had no shoes. Just a short, tight dress
of green silk and a leather belt. The dress was ripped and torn. Dirty,
covered in mud and blackened almost as if it had seen the edges of fire. Her
hands were so small, long and delicate. The nails were covered in dirt and
grime, and the actual hands were bleeding. He could tell they were cut.
“Hey!”
Before he could say another word, she was scrambling away from him in fright.
“I won’t hurt you! I’m sorry about before. I...”
She
was on her feet and running into his woods. Michael cursed and ran after her.
He was a fucking insane bastard. He should just go inside and call the cops.
Tell them that sister to the ‘wild boy’ was living in his woods, but
fucking animal control would probably show up in a few months. A few months
too late for this
Guilt.
He didn’t like it. But he couldn’t know how much damage hitting her with
his powers had caused. He was expecting a raccoon, so he hadn’t used full
force. Just enough to knock the trash-eating bastard out. Her bleeding head
concerned him. Great. It had been years since he was rash enough to expose his
powers. But this was twice just recently. The day Max took flashes from his
mind, and now to a stranger. All he fucking needed. Insano Girl telling the
authorities and anyone who’d listen how the evil man held up his hand and
blasted her.
He
needed to find her first.
~~~
The
area was dark. Too fast. Too noisy. Breathe. Breathe. Don’t cry. Don’t
die. Pain. Fire burning. Colors bleeding. Too fast. Hurt. Feet. No feet.
Can’t feel. Run. Run. Run.
She
rushed through the brush, her bruised and bare feet bleeding. The twigs of the
trees pulled at her, the thorns tore at her skin. Her side hurt. Her hands
bled. Monsters. She could hear them. Feel them. Run. Run, dammit! Shut up, you
baby. Stop crying! Stop wanting to just stop and die. She tripped. For a
moment she lay there, confused. Too tired to move. Resigned.
Get
up! Get up! Now! She was up and running. It came in slow motion, and almost
didn’t register. The arm grabbing her midriff. The stopping of forward
motion. Arms. Strong arms pulled her off her feet, pulled her back against a
hard wall of bone and flesh. Monsters. They eat the bones. Screaming in
terror. She thrashed and punched. Biting and screaming until a large hand came
over mouth, and she was bound in arms too tight to get away from, and her arms
anchored to her side.
“Fuck!
Shushhhh. Calm down! It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I
swear. Just calm down so I can help you.”
Heart
fluttering beneath the sternum. Drum. Drum. Drum. The deathwatch march. Calm.
Breathe. Breathe.
“That’s
it. Calm. Shhhhh. Calm. Calm down and I’ll release you. Do you
understand?”
Michael
felt a small nod of acknowledgment. And when she stopped struggling, he
tentatively released her a little, but held her against him. She was so small,
so tiny and delicate. And in a rush, he got a flash from her. Her panic. Her
fear. An overwhelming sense of horror. And so much more. Flashes coming too
fast to decipher, to understand. It was like an acid trip washout all in a
psychedelic haze.
Releasing
her because the visions were coming too quick. Fast and furious, he stood back
and looked at her as she turned. Weaving on her feet, she saw him, and before
his eyes, he saw her eyes roll back in her head.
“No!
Don’t...” Michael cussed. “… faint.” His voice became softer as he
picked her off the ground. “Don’t faint.”