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Prologue
Blinding
sunlight streaming through foliage, the whistle of the wind, the creak of the
branches, the soft breeze across his cheeks, the prickle of the grass beneath
his body.
All
of those sensations forced Max Evans to desperately clamp his hands over his
ears and squeeze his eyes closed as tightly as he could.
Agonized, he pulled his knees up to his chin.
Although he could see, could feel, could hear, he sensed something was
drastically wrong inside of his body. His
head was starting to become light and he had the sense of the world slipping
away from him. Within a few
moments, the problem registered – he needed to breathe. On
this planet breathing was necessary.
What
should have been a normal bodily reflex suddenly required thought. Max struggled to remember what it meant to breath, to inhale,
which group of muscles performed that task.
With a sickening cough of extraterrestrial phlegm, Max drew in his first
breath in a very long time. The
sudden intake of oxygen burnt his nostrils and set his lungs on fire.
Tears welled up in his eyes from the pain and his heart jerked crazily in
his chest. He removed one hand from
his ear and touched the skin over the pounding organ; he wasn’t sure which was
worse – the pain in his lungs or the pain in his heart now that it was being
fed oxygen again.
An
apparent eternity passed before his heart slowed and the burning in his lungs
became a dull sting. He felt
exhausted, every muscle spent from his journey.
When he dared open his eyes, he squinted into the clear blue sky just in
time to see the worm hole that had unceremoniously spit him on the ground close
completely and disappear.
Although
he had no idea where he was geographically, Max knew he was home.
Part
One
Where
to even begin?
Max
kicked a stone that was in his path as he walked along the side of the road. He had his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his head
was bent downward. He wasn’t sure
how much time had passed as he’d regained his strength.
He knew the sun had set and risen at least once, but he had no guarantee
that he hadn’t slept through that cycle many more times.
When he’d finally awaken for good, he’d been incredibly thirsty,
thirsty to the point of insanity. Luckily, there had been a pond nearby and he’d had enough
strength to use his powers to clear the water of impurities before he’d put it
into his recovering body. Gulping
the water had been a bad idea – Max had been rudely reintroduced to the very
human concept of regurgitation.
But
now he was literally on the road, looking for clues as to where he was, what
year it was, anything that would explain his current situation.
When
he’d left, he’d taken clothes that never really went out of style – a
T-shirt and a pair of jeans. He
figured that was safe – the worst that could happen was he’d reappear
wearing the wrong shade of denim. Anyone
he ran across might just think he was a fashion misfit instead of absent for God
knows how many years.
Beneath
his fingers, Max felt the wad of money he’d stashed in his pocket before his
departure. He congratulated himself
on thinking of these things and it suddenly occurred to him that his diligent
planning meant that all of those promises he’d made he’d really meant –
he’d had every intention of returning.
But
was everyone he cared about still here?
Max
felt a slight discomfort in his stomach, something that felt almost foreign to
him. He gazed to the horizon and
realized what the feeling was – he was hungry.
Involuntarily, his mouth watered as he remembered all of those wonderful
foods he’d loved here on earth – all of them soaked in Tabasco, of course.
Tabasco. He suddenly flashed
on Isabel and Michael and his gut clenched.
Not
now, he told himself.
He couldn’t get caught up in this yet.
First, he needed to tend to his needs, to make himself strong again.
And that meant food. He
surveyed his surroundings and saw nothing but highway and grass in every
direction. Come to think of it, he
hadn’t even seen a car yet and he’d been walking awhile.
His
shoulders heaved with a little sigh and the unusual intake of air caused him to
expel another wad of phlegm. He
watched the greenish fluid smack the pavement and gave a little groan.
How long was this going to happen? How
long until he had flushed all remnants of that other world out of his body?
That
other world…
He
gave a shake of his head and forced himself to continue walking.
Just like he couldn’t allow himself to deal with the circumstances of
Michael and Isabel, he couldn’t let himself dwell on what had happened on that
other world. Not now.
Not yet. The time would
come.
The
sun was starting to slowly sink ahead of Max.
At least he had some confirmation that he was still moving west. As long as he’d landed somewhere in the continental US, he
was at least moving in the right direction…unless he was already west of New
Mexico. No, from the amount of
foliage around him, he doubted that. Unless
he was very north of New Mexico and
was actually in the Pacific Northwest.
Panic
twisted in Max’s stomach for the first time.
He really didn’t know where he was.
He didn’t even know what continent he was on.
He was wandering in some arbitrary westerly direction. His belly was empty, his limbs still a little weak.
He
was in trouble.
Max
had forgotten the bodily reaction to panic.
The sudden rush of blood to his head made him suddenly woozy and he had
to stop walking and sit down. He
hung his head and waited for the feeling to pass.
You’re okay, Max, he told
himself. Get
it together.
A
few moments later he was back on his feet and walking again.
Don’t think about it, he
warned himself. Think about what you need – get some food and shelter.
He
hadn’t walked more than a few minutes when he heard a vehicle approaching from
the rear. His first instinct was to
panic and run for shelter, but he pushed that aside and turned to watch the
approaching car.
It
was a pick up, and it didn’t look so different from the trucks that had been
running the roads when he’d left. As
the truck pulled to a stop, he glanced at the license plate - Ohio.
The renewal sticker read “Expires on Designated Date 07”.
07. What – 07?
2007? 2107?
He felt a sudden uncertainty about the bills in his pocket.
Anyone showing up in 2007 with a wad of bills dated before 2001 would not
be conspicuous, but someone showing up in 2107 with a wad of bills dated before
2001 definitely would be.
Okay,
so at least two questions had been answered for sure – he was in the US.
He was in Ohio. What year was still a mystery.
The
driver dropped the passenger-side window and leaned over in the seat to regard
Max. He was a middle-aged man,
scruffy around the edges, but he had a welcoming smile that made Max smile in
return.
“How
ya doin?” the driver asked.
When
Max tried to speak, his voice cracked and a hoarse croak came from his throat.
He cleared his throat and prayed that another alien phlegm ball wasn’t
about to be produced. “Great,”
he finally managed, his voice throaty but discernable.
“Need
a ride?” the driver offered.
Max
nodded and kept smiling. If he were
any other normal human, wandering in the middle of nowhere with no help in
sight, he’d have been insane to accept a ride from this man.
But he wasn’t human, not entirely.
The
driver pushed open the door and Max climbed into the passenger seat and they
were on their way. They exchanged
names – the driver’s name was Hal Green and he owned a sheep farm – and
chatted neighborly for a few minutes. Then
silence filled the cab of the truck for a long time.
Finally,
Hal spoke. “Did your car break
down?”
Max
stiffened. He’d walked for miles.
There was no car left along the side of the road.
He had no excuse for his wandering.
“Um, no.”
Hal
glanced at him. “No?
You walking just cuz you like to walk?”
Max
gave a little laugh, then stiffened in anticipation when the laugh produced a
cough. He relaxed when he realized
he was phlegm-free. “Sorta.
Just trying to get home.”
“Home?”
Hal glanced at the road, then back at him.
“Where’s home?”
“New
Mexico.”
Hal’s
blue eyes widened. “New Mexico! Sweet Mother of God, you’re lost, boy!” He gave a crackly laugh that Max recognized as the kind of
noise that life-time smokers made. “Where’s
your stuff?”
Stuff.
Well, he hadn’t thought about that when he’d been making all of those
preparations so many years ago, had he? Of
course, he also hadn’t planned on being deposited 3500 miles from home,
either. He had no backpack, no
bedroll. Crap – he didn’t even
have a coat.
“I
lost it,” he said lamely.
Hal
raised an eyebrow. “Lost it?”
Max
nodded. “Robbed.”
Hal
let out a disgusted gasp. “Damn
kids these days. Did they hurt
you?”
Max
shook his head.
“Bastards.
They’ll get theirs some day, I tell ya.”
The sun finally disappeared over the horizon and Hal flipped on the
lights to the truck. “Listen,
kid. You look like shit.”
Max
looked at him silently.
“I
mean, you look tired and hungry and I’ll bet you could use a nice hot shower,
huh?”
Max
gave a little shrug of agreement.
Hal
gave him a smile. “Want to come
home with me? My wife – Martha
– makes a wonderful pot roast and she just loves company.
If we’re lucky, she made one of her famous apple pies today, too.
I can put you up for the night, give you a decent place to sleep.”
Max’s
mouth watered and he realized he was hungry to the point of nausea.
He nodded at Hal and smiled. “I’d
love that. If you don’t mind?”
Hal
wave him off with a hand. “All in
the name of good karma, kid.” Then
he smiled and drove Max to his farm.
Part
Two
“Quit
trying to breathe, silly.”
Her
words were accompanied by a sarcastic giggle that infuriated Max.
Even after many light-years, and even though he was lying on the ground
writhing in agony, Tess’s voice still had the ability to cut straight through
and get on his nerves.
“You
don’t need to breathe here,” she continued.
“There isn’t any air here. For
God’s sake, Max, you look like you’re about to gag to death.
Just stop breathing.”
Why
should he trust her? Tess had a history of wanting people to stop breathing.
But the pain in his lungs, throughout his body, was unbearable, so Max
struggled to keep himself from inhaling. After
a few moments, his thoughts became clearer and he was able to focus on his
surroundings.
Everything
had an odd reddish cast to it, almost like he was looking through a crimson
photo negative. From his sprawled position on the ground, he glanced up into
Tess’s face. Over her shoulder,
he saw the worm hole collapse.
“See?”
she said, her expression one of utter condescension.
“All you need to do is give in to your alien physiology.
You don’t need to breathe.”
He
couldn’t breathe. Max opened his
eyes and struggled to sit upright. His
throat was constricting and he had a horrible pain in the center of his chest.
His heart was doing that crazy jerking again, this time out of protest
for more oxygen instead of less. Grabbing
hold of the sheets, he squeezed his eyes shut and forced his lungs to pull in a
deep gulp of air.
Immediately,
his lungs revolted and he started the painful hacking once again.
He gasped between each bout of coughing and shortly the amount of
discharge he was expelling rose to a frightening level.
Weakly, he stumbled from the bed and staggered toward a small bathroom
that was attached to the room he was in, the blue glow of a nightlight guiding
his way.
He
knelt before the toilet and coughed up what he hoped was the last of his alien
respiratory system. On that other
planet, as he’d given in to his alien side, his lungs had formed a thick mucus
layer that supplied his body with the gasses it needed to function.
On this world, he didn’t need the spongy material – he needed air.
Max knew that his body was adapting itself to this planet, that his body
was returning to being dominantly human.
The
coughing ceased and Max sat back against the side of the old fashioned tub. He ran a hand through his hair and swallowed hard.
It hadn’t been this difficult to adjust to the other world.
Coming back was harder than he’d anticipated.
Max
looked around his surroundings. Where
was he? A brief flash of panic
warmed his body, then he remembered the events of the evening and he relaxed.
Martha
Green did indeed make a terrific pot roast and Max and Hal had indeed been lucky
enough to be treated to a nice warm apple pie.
When Max met Martha, he placed her older than Hal, but then guessed he
may have misjudged Hal’s age. She’d
been delighted to meet Max, had welcomed him into her home as if he were a lost
puppy. She had chattered and
clucked around him like an old mother chicken, caring for him in a way he
hadn’t experienced in what seemed like an eternity.
Shakily,
Max rose to his feet and rinsed his mouth out with some cool water from the
sink. He glanced into the mirror
and stopped cold. This was the
first chance he’d gotten to examine his reflection and what he saw startled
him. Although his skin had a sickly
gray cast to it and he looked tired, Max didn’t appear to have aged a day in
his absence. He ran a hand through
his hair in search of grays. None.
He examined the corners of his eyes for crow’s feet.
None of those, either. Max’s
skin was as smoothed and unblemished as the day he’d left.
Not only had it seemed like he’d only been gone a few days, his body
apparently thought so, too.
Back
in the bedroom, Max sat on the edge of the bed and looked out the window. The horizon was already beginning to turn lighter and he knew
the sun would rise within the next half hour.
He was awake for the day. Between
his dream of Tess and the bloody coughing in the bathroom, there was no way he
was going back to sleep now.
Beneath
his fingers, he felt the soft cotton fabric of the bed quilt.
He glanced down at it and his fingers traced the intricate stitching
between the blocks. When Martha had
shown him his room, she’d proudly pointed out the quilt and mentioned that her
grandmother had stitched the entire thing by hand. A small smile curved Max’s lips as he imagined the old
woman sitting in her rocker, lovingly sewing together scraps of cloth.
This was what he’d missed about humans – they were the only beings in
the universe that would put so much passion into creating something that’s
only function was to keep them warm. Martha’s
grandmother had loved her work – the stitches were neat, uniform and one of
the most beautiful things Max had ever seen.
Unexpectedly,
tears rose to Max’s eyes. For an
instant, he felt disturbed by the reaction, but then he realized that as his
body was returning to being human, his emotions were also.
But Max had never quite reached the level of non-human non-emotion that
Tess had while on their home world. A
little part of Max had always been emotional, had always had feelings.
He laughed lightly to himself – another first since his return – and
pulled a tissue from the box on the night stand.
This must be what alien PMS is like, he mused.
The
sound of an engine starting drew Max’s attention back to the window. He looked down from his second-story perch and saw Hal
climbing behind the wheel of the truck. Under
his arm was a thermos. He tossed an
industrial-sized lunch box onto the seat beside him and backed out of the drive.
Max
suddenly became very aware of the smell of cooking bacon wafting up from the
kitchen. He slid on his clothes and
descended the stairs. In the
kitchen, Martha was banging her hand on the top of a small TV whose picture was
snowy and rolling vertically.
“Is
your TV broken?” he asked softly.
Martha
turned, a little startled, then gave him a wide grin.
“Good morning, Max. Sleep
well?”
He
nodded. No need to let her know
about his nightmare or his alien upheaval.
He looked at the TV again.
Martha
nodded disgustedly. “Ever since
that freak electric storm two weeks ago. The
picture just went that day.”
Max
hoped he masked his startled expression. “Freak
electric storm?” he repeated.
“Yeah,
don’t you remember?”
Max
shook his head. “I wasn’t in
the area two weeks ago.” Or was
he?
Martha
thumped her forehead and moved to flip the bacon on the stove.
“That’s right, you’ve been traveling.”
She gestured towards the table. “Sit
down. I’ll make you some
breakfast.”
He
sat down and waited for her to tell him about the storm.
He didn’t want to appear too anxious about it.
Glancing around the comfortable kitchen, he noticed a calendar hanging on
the wall. It was some time in June.
Of 2007. Inside, Max
leapt for joy. The possibility that
his loved ones were still alive had just increased tenfold.
Martha
cracked some eggs into a skillet. “Weirdest
damned thing, Max. I was outside
hanging laundry and all of a sudden the sky lit up off to the east. It was blinding. The
alarm on Hal’s car went off. The
birds flew out of the trees as if the devil himself was after them.”
She moved to put some bread in the toaster.
“Weather man said it was just some electrical disturbance of some kind.
Fried the TV. Ruined my
alarm clock. Seemed a bit strong
for what they call a ‘disturbance.’”
Indeed,
it did. It had to have taken
something cataclysmic to do that kind of damage.
Something like a wormhole opening and closing.
Two
weeks. He’d lain in that woods
for almost two weeks before he’d gained enough strength to move on.
No wonder he’d been so thirsty, so hungry. And it was a small miracle that some hunter hadn’t happened
across him…or some wild animal. Someone
from above must truly love Max.
“Would
you like me to look at the TV?” he offered.
Martha
glanced at him, a spatula in her hand. “Sure,
if you want. I don’t think
there’s much you can do, though.”
Max
turned the TV around and pretended to mess with the wiring.
“I used to play with electronics when I was a kid.”
“When?”
Martha laughed. “You’re still a kid, Max.”
Max
gave a little laugh. He ran his
hand along the circuit board of the TV and fixed it.
“I think that might have helped,” he said, then turned the TV back
around.
Martha’s
mouth fell open. “The picture has
never been that good! Son, you
truly have a gift.”
Max
gave her a smile and slid back into his seat.
She had no idea.
Within
a few minutes, Martha placed a simmering plate of food before him.
He looked down at it and his mouth watered.
“What
do you like with your eggs?” she asked. “Salt
and pepper? Ketchup?”
What
were the chances? “Do you have
any Tabasco?” he asked.
Martha
gave a laugh. “That’s new. But, yes I do.”
While
Max ate, Martha sat across from him and asked him questions about his life.
The inevitable question arose. “Do
you have a girlfriend?”
Max
reddened and looked shyly down to his plate, though he was smiling.
“Yeah, I have a girl.” At
least he thought he did. He smile
faded away. “Her name is Liz.”
“What
a pretty name. And what a lucky
girl.”
Yeah.
What a lucky girl.
Max
had avoided even thinking of Liz, let alone speaking her name.
He knew this time would come, and now that it had come it wasn’t any
easier than he’d anticipated. He
gave a little frown, then concentrated on his breakfast.
Later,
Martha drove him to the bus station. After
they pulled into a parking spot and got out of the car, she reached into the
back seat and produced a backpack. Max
eyed it curiously.
“My
son Randy went off to college many years ago,” she explained.
“I kept so much of his stuff. Stuff
he won’t use again. I put some
clean shirts and a light jacket in here. And
some lunch.”
Max
lifted his hands. “Oh, I
couldn’t – “
“Don’t
be silly. Of course you can.”
Martha’s blue eyes creased at the corners as she smiled at him.
“This stuff is just going to the Goodwill some day anyway.
I couldn’t help you out with the pants – Randy was much shorter and
pudgier than you and we couldn’t have you walking around looking like a dork,
could we?”
Max
gave an embarrassed laugh and looked at his feet, humbled by her kindness. But he needed to meet her eyes for his next comment.
“Martha, thank you. And
Hal. You’ve been more help than
you can possibly imagine.”
She
smiled again and opened her arms to give him a farewell hug.
Suddenly Max remembered another goodbye…
There
were tears glistening in her hazel eyes as she stood before him.
He knew she was trying to not cry.
“You
be careful,” she said as she reached up to touch his face.
“And you come back. Do you
hear me?”
Max
nodded. “I will.
I promise. Tell them…”
his voice drifted off as he struggled for the right words.
“Tell them I’m sorry. Tell
them I will return. I promise.”
And
with that, for the first time, for the only time, she kissed him.
Then Max turned and lifted his hand to the sky to open the wormhole...
In
the end, Maria had been the only one to see him leave.
She had been the only one to bid him farewell.
“You
take care,” Martha was saying as she hugged him.
“Godspeed, Max Evans.”
Max
gave her a smile and watched her back out of her parking spot.
He turned to enter the bus station, but something across the street
caught his eye. A public library.
Before he could leave, he needed to do something.
Part
Three
“I
want to go.”
Michael’s
voice was not pleading or suggesting. It
was demanding.
Max
circled the coffee table to regard his friend at a closer proximity.
“I know you do,” he acknowledged.
“But I don’t think I can keep the wormhole open long enough to get
both of us through.”
“Then
send me,” Michael demanded, pointing both of his forefingers into his own
chest. “I want to go home.
I want to see our world. Maxwell,
you know I’ve dreamed about this my entire life.”
Max
glanced to Isabel, who was perched on the arm of Michael’s battered couch.
Her arms were crossed defiantly over her chest and her expression looked
capable of killing.
“Michael,
it might not be safe,” Max rationalized.
“I don’t even know if I’ll live through this.”
“But
why should you be the one to try?” Michael asked.
Attempting
to keep this from turning into a full-fledged brawl, Max waited a beat to let
the tension subside. “Because,”
he began calmly, “I need to find Tess. I
need to find out what happened to my son. I’ve
found a way to do that.”
“So
– what? It’s your gift and
you’re going to keep it all to yourself?” Michael challenged.
“This isn’t football, Max. You
can’t threaten to be quarterback or you’ll take your wormhole home.”
Max
gave a sigh and ran his hand through his hair.
“I have to do this, Michael.”
“Why?
I could track down Tess, find your kid.
Max, I have nothing to lose.”
Max
gave his friend a surprised glance. “You
don’t? What about Maria?”
Michael
shrugged. “She knows this is a
possibility, that I might leave some day. We
talked about it. She
understands.” He fell silent for a moment.
“Have you told Liz?”
Max
looked to the floor. “Not yet. But
I will.” He looked at Isabel, who
hadn’t moved, then back to Michael. “I wanted to tell you two first.”
Michael
watched him silently, then gave a disgusted snort.
“You’re really doing this, aren’t you?
Nothing Iz or I could say would change your mind, would it?”
Max
met his gaze, dark eyes to dark eyes, and slowly shook his head.
Michael gave another disgusted snort, turned on his heals, grabbed his
coat and left the apartment. He
slammed the door so hard that a picture hanging on an adjacent wall crashed to
the floor.
A
deafening silence filled the small apartment.
Max stared at the floor and Isabel stared at him.
Finally, Max raised his head to regard his sister.
“Did
you want to go, too?” he asked her, his voice quiet.
She
shook her head. “No.
I want to live in this world, Max.”
“Are
you mad at me for not giving in to him?”
She
have a little, sarcastic laugh. “No,
Max, I’m mad at you for many other things.”
He
raised his eyebrows slightly.
“I’m
mad at you for being inconsiderate enough to dump the rest of us with the
responsibility of covering for you.” She
rose to her feet and stood before him. Nearly
the same height, she could look him straight in the eye.
“Have you thought about that? Have
you thought about what to tell Mom and Dad?
You haven’t, have you?”
Max
looked to the floor again. She had
a point.
“And
what about what you have here?” Isabel continued.
“What about Liz? You’re
willing to just leave her behind to go chasing after some floozy?
You yourself said you didn’t know if you’d live through this.
Wonderful. What would that
do to the rest of us?”
Max
could feel rage emanating off her in waves.
He paused a moment before he spoke again. “Isabel,
I need you to try to understand –“
“Whatever,”
she interrupted. “Michael was right. I
don’t know why I’m wasting my breath. Have
a good trip, Max.” With that, she
bent to pick up her coat and exited in Michael’s footsteps…
Computers
hadn’t changed much in terms of usability in the time Max had been gone. He assumed that advances had been made to the processors
based on the speed with which his searches returned results, but other than
that, point-and-click functionality was still being used.
Max
sat in the Zanesville public library most of the morning, accessing public
telephone records, trying to track down his friends and family.
It had been a long time – there was no telling where everyone had
scattered. The natural place to
start was in Roswell, NM. In the
phone directory, he saw that his parents still lived at 6025 Murray Lane and
that their phone number had remained the same.
He gave a small smile as he thought briefly of his parents, but didn’t
allow his nostalgia to linger for long.
Jim
Valenti still lived in the same house. Kyle
Valenti lived on the same street. There
were no listings for Amy or Maria Deluca, Michael Guerin, Isabel Evans or Liz
Parker. A small frown creased
Max’s brow. His parents and the
Valentis…that’s all he’d been able to locate.
Something
instinctive clicked in Max’s head and he tried another search – Isabel
Guerin.
Isabel
Guerin lived on Hudson Street in Roswell. Max
stared at the returned information and felt a sense of loss, of hopelessness.
He guessed sometimes you just couldn’t fight fate.
Max
didn’t want to see Michael and Isabel yet.
Their parting had been too traumatic.
He couldn’t approach his parents.
Not yet. He didn’t know
where Liz was…not that he was ready to see her, either.
Maria.
Maria
had been the one to watch him leave, to send him on his way with only positive
thoughts. It was only fair that she
should be the first to know he’d returned.
But his internet search had not produced any results for her.
Maybe she married. Maybe she
had an unlisted number. Maybe she
moved away…the marriage of Michael and Isabel may have been enough to send her
packing half way across the country.
Half
way across the country. Chicago.
Max’s
eyes brightened. The House of
Blues, home to some of the best music in the country.
Maria would definitely be into a place like Chicago.
Quickly, his fingers moved over the keyboard and demanded in his new
search. A few moments passed, then
the results flashed on the screen. There
were four Maria Delucas listed in Chicago.
For the first time since his return, Max felt a little excited.
He printed off the results and stuffed them into his pocket.
At
the Greyhound station, Max was delighted to find out that Chicago was only 8
hours away, that he could be there by nightfall.
Trying to suppress his eagerness, he paid the fare and boarded the bus.
Even
through his excitement, his recovering body demanded rest.
Though it was only a little after noon, he felt incredibly tired, but
thankful that the coughing had apparently ceased. With any luck, he’d experienced the worst of the physical
reaction to re-entering life on earth. Reaching
into the backpack that Martha had given him, he pulled out the jacket, balled it
up and stuffed it between his head and the window.
As
the bus jerked to a slow start and pulled out of the station, Max thought of Hal
and Martha Green. They had been
incredibly kind people and Max had been extremely fortunate that they were his
first human contacts. Hal and
Martha helped reaffirm to Max that there were people in the universe who
weren’t out to harm him, who didn’t want him dead…
“I
don’t know what’s going to happen, Max.”
Tess’s blue eyes were round, innocent-looking.
Max
looked at her through the bars of the cell.
“What do you mean?” He
felt a sudden, sickening feeling in his gut.
“Maybe
you shouldn’t have come here.”
Max
tried to reach through the bars to touch her, but she backed out of his grasp.
He looked at her quizzically and she relented and stepped closer to the
bars. She ran her hand along his
cheek, her eyes following the movement of her fingers.
“I
did love you,” she said, never meeting his gaze.
“Once.”
Max
swallowed, not positive he trusted her to touch him.
Her
voice dropped to the temperature of ice and her eyes snapped to his.
“In another life. You
shouldn’t have come here.”
Over
her shoulder, Max saw sudden bright light, heard the clack of shoes on the metal
floor of the brig. The sickening feeling in his gut caused acid to rise to his
throat. He glanced desperately at
Tess.
“Who
is that?” he asked, his voice shaking.
Tess
smiled and Max felt his blood run cold. “Come
on, now, your majesty. You don’t
remember your old friend Khivar?”
“Dude, you okay?”
Max
jerked awake, his heart slamming into his ribs.
He sat up shakily and looked out of the bus window.
The sun was starting to set on the horizon – they must be close to
Chicago. His vision clearing from
his sleep, he looked at the teenager seated beside him.
“Dude,”
the boy said, “you were saying all kinds of shit.”
Oh,
God. Max rubbed his eyes.
“I was?”
“Yeah,
must’ve been one hell of a dream.” The
kid shook his head and put his headphones on.
Max thought that must have been a good sign – the kid didn’t seem too
concerned about the gibberish that Max had been spouting.
A quick check of the seats around him proved that no one else looked
worried, either. Max made a mental
note to himself – avoid sleeping in public.
Within
the hour, the bus pulled into the downtown terminal and dispelled its passengers
into the warm summer night air. Max
hoisted the backpack over his shoulder and surveyed the tall buildings.
They reminded him of his trip to New York.
With
Tess.
He
frowned and started walking towards a Holiday Inn sign he saw in the distance.
How long would it be before he had erased her from his mind entirely?
How long was she going to haunt him?
Max feared it was forever.
He
secured a room for a week at the hotel. Once
in his room he did a quick check of his stash and determined that he was still
okay in the money department. He
kicked off his shoes and pulled the list of addresses from his pocket.
In the morning, he would start his search.
Maria
Deluca #1 turned out to be a woman in her sixties who lived on the city’s east
side. Max loitered around her
apartment complex and watched her movements for a day to make sure she was
indeed Maria Deluca and not someone who was staying with Maria Deluca. Towards evening, he heard a neighbor address her as “Mrs.
Deluca” and crossed her off his list.
Maria
Deluca #2 was, surprisingly, a Notre Dame nun.
Max gave a little laugh at the thought – Sister Maria – and crossed
her name off as well.
Maria
Deluca #3 was a college student that in some way did remind Max of the Maria he
knew, although Maria #3 was dark-haired and short.
But it was her character, her vitality that drew Max in.
He followed her to school one day, watched her interacting with her
friends, then he tracked her to the bar she worked at to obviously pay her
bills. All of the patrons loved
her. She sang, she danced, she
entertained as she served them. She
was a fun person. Sadly, Max
crossed her off the list, too.
Despondence
settling in, he wearily got up on his fourth day in the hotel to seek out Maria
Deluca #4. If he didn’t find her,
he only had one option – get back on the bus, go to Roswell and deal with
either his parents or Michael or Isabel.
He
knew, of course, that was inevitable. He
would have to confront them some time. But
he’d feel better if he had Maria on his side first.
Max
checked the address and located the apartment building it belonged to.
He got a coffee from a street vendor and sat on a stoop across the street
and waited. A glance at his watch
told him it was just after eight in the morning.
He sat there, his hope waning, until after nine.
Then
he saw her.
She
came out of the apartment building, a guitar case slung over her shoulder. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts and a tank top, her
golden hair pulled into a knot atop her head.
Her arms and legs were tanned a warm brown.
On her feet were a pair of beaded sandals and she wore small, round
sunglasses. She looked like a
flower child of the sixties.
Max’s
breath caught in his chest as he watched her walk away from him.
She was the most beautiful, welcoming thing he’d ever seen.
Part
Four
Max
followed Maria for another day, watched from a distance as she met people who
were familiar to her only. She
kissed a young man on the cheek at a local coffee house before she sat down,
crossed her long legs and pulled some charts from a portfolio.
She laughed with the man and gave him another kiss before they parted.
Max followed her to a salon where she had her nails manicured and
polished. He smiled to himself as
she shrieked in joy at the new color the manicurist had chosen for her.
Some things never changed. He
watched her stop at an open-air market to pick up fruits and vegetables.
She held each piece to her nose before placing it in her basket.
Eventually
he decided he couldn’t stalk her forever.
From his stoop across the street, he watched her return to her apartment
as the daylight hours waned. Once
the door had closed behind her, he looked upward to the third floor and waited
for light to shine through her windows. It
was his cue.
In
the hallway outside of her apartment, Max paced nervously.
Through the door, he heard her talking to someone, but it appeared to be
a one-sided conversation – was she on the phone?
Then the talking ceased and he heard music filtering through the door.
It was her stereo, but shortly Maria’s lovely voice joined the
recording. Max closed his eyes,
savoring the beautiful tones of her singing.
He
popped his eyes open and knocked on her door.
Suddenly his hands were sweaty and he realized that he hadn’t thought
of something clever to say. “Hi,
honey, I’m home,” he laughed nervously, then knocked again, louder.
A few moments passed, then the door was jerked open.
“Can
I help you?” she asked.
Their
eyes met and Max found that he couldn’t say anything, clever or otherwise. He watched her hazel eyes go from unemotional to recognizing.
She gave a noise that was half cry, half laugh, then her eyes rolled back
in her head and she slumped towards the floor…
Max
caught Maria’s limp form by the shoulders and hoisted her into his arms. He entered her apartment and kicked the door closed behind
them. As he walked towards her
couch, he realized he could smell her jasmine perfume and he briefly closed his
eyes to savor the sensation. He’d
forgotten how Maria smelled. Of
course, she had always dabbled in the art of aroma therapy, so she’d
frequently smelled like many different things.
Max
lowered her body to the couch, cradled her head with a flower-shaped throw
pillow. Kneeling on the floor
before her, he ran the back of his hand along the side of her face, trying to
rouse her.
“Maria,”
he said softly. “Wake up,
Maria.”
In
a few minutes, she started to stir. She
rubbed her face, then opened her eyes. She
glanced around unknowingly for a few moments, then her eyes settled on Max.
Drawing in a sharp breath, she sat up quickly and drew her knees to her
chest.
“Who
are you?” she demanded.
Max
blinked. “Max.”
“Are
you a shapeshifter?” Her voice
quivered.
Max
shook his head.
“Are
you some other kind of alien? Because
Max is…” Her voice trailed off
and tears started to roll down her smooth, flawless cheeks.
“…dead”
Max
withdrew, then he gave a gentle smile, trying to reassure her.
“I’m not dead, Maria. I’m
back. Honest.”
She didn’t look convinced. He
struggled to think of some trivial thing they had in common.
“When you first met me, you were afraid I was going to eat you,” he
offered. “I nicknamed you
Peapod.”
She
stopped sniffling, her eyes round. She
appeared to be studying his face and he met her gaze, his own unwavering.
Then
she burst into tears and threw her arms around him.
She hugged him so tightly that he choked.
“Sorry!”
she said and only released him enough so that he could breathe.
“It’s really you,” she said against his ear. “It’s really you, Max Evans.”
Max
nodded and squeezed her a little tighter. He
felt some tension in his throat, but he didn’t want to cry in front of her.
Having someone who cared about him in his arms, warm and vital - it
nearly split his heart in two. He
wove his hands into her soft hair and buried his face against her neck.
Maria
pulled back and took his face between her hands.
She looked at him with blurry eyes and gave him a caring smile. Then she pulled his lips to hers and gave him a warm, tender
kiss.
Max
had forgotten the feel of human lips beneath his and his head reeled with the
sensation. But her lips weren’t
the ones he longed for. The kiss
was over quickly and Maria was hugging him again.
Eventually she released him and, holding both of his hands, pulled him to
his feet.
“Look
at you!” she said as she sized him up. She
patted his tummy, grimaced. “Oh,
you’re skinny.” With that, she
turned and went into her kitchenette and started to pull stuff from the
refrigerator.