Surprisingly, the group began to follow Maria's commands. Well, except for Michael. Reaching out an arm, he snagged Max, who was on his way to the family room to turn off the TV.
"Wait a minute," he said in a low tone, "I need to talk to you."
Maria eyed him suspiciously, then tossed her head and said, "Fine. You two boys talk. I'll just go remind Isabel to put plenty of Tabasco in the warm milk." With a flounce, she left Isabel's room to the two aliens.
"What is it, Michael?" Max asked.
"Two things," Michael said, his face impassive though his voice was strained. "You gotta promise me you'll keep an eye on Maria when I'm out. Alex can help, but he won't be much use when they're dreamwalking."
Max looked at him speculatively. "Maria wasn't kidding about you stalking her, was she? What's going on?"
"I don't have time for explanations. She'll be back in a minute. Get her through this safely and we'll talk."
Studying the carefully controlled face in front of him, Max was troubled to observe a hint of desperation in the dark eyes. Michael, who had always shied away from asking help from anyone, was asking for his. He couldn't refuse. "I'll watch out for her. But when this is over we are due for a serious talk." Michael ducked his head once in acquiescence. Max went on, "What was the other thing?"
Michael swallowed. "I'm not sure I can do this, and I have to. Do you...do you think you could use your powers to put me under?"
"I don't know," Max answered. "I've never tried anything like that before. But if I can make the right kind of connection, who knows? It just might work."
"It better work," said Michael gloomily, "because otherwise you really are gonna have to deck me. I don't know how much more of this I can take."
Max hid his chuckle with a fake cough and looked away, pretending he had to consider Michael's request. When he had regained his composure, he looked back and said calmly, "I can try."
"Then let's do it," Michael said, moving decisively out the door and down the hall to Max's room. Liz was inside, performing her Maria-assigned duty and plumping Max's pillow to its fullest extent. She moved back in surprise as Michael unceremoniously grabbed the pillow from her hands and tossed it on the bed, throwing himself down after it with a plop. "Do it," he said.
Max looked at Liz, who was standing curiously by the dresser. "Liz, could you give us a minute?" he began.
Michael interrupted impatiently. "She doesn't bother me. Let's get on with it."
"What are you going to do, Max?" asked Liz in concern.
"Put him to sleep," he answered. "If I can. I've never tried it before."
"Is it safe?" she countered.
From the bed, Michael spoke up. "It's a lot safer than whatever Maria's got in mind. So hurry it up, before she gets back."
Max stepped closer to the bed and bent to place his hand on Michael's forehead. Closing his eyes, he focused on the being in front of him. It was Michael and it wasn't; Max could sense that some part of him wasn't there. For a moment he deeply missed his rash, unpredictable friend; then he pushed those thoughts aside and concentrated on the matter at hand.
Through the connection, he could feel Michael's bone-weariness and the determination with which his body fought it off, and was astounded at what Michael was purposely putting himself through. He didn't understand why he had deprived himself of necessary sleep, but he knew the reason had to be extremely important to the intractable alien. Sensing that Michael was almost to the last reserves of his strength, Max became even more determined to give him some much-needed rest. Even if the dreamwalk didn't work, at least he would get a respite from whatever was driving him. Concentrating, Max tried to send a sense of peace and well-being through the connection, to convince Michael that it was okay to let go for the time being. To relax. To rest peacefully, just for a little while...
A sound from the doorway behind him pulled him out of his trance, and he looked down to see Michael lying still and breathing deeply. Success. Liz smiled warmly at him before turning to the trio who stood watching from the doorway. Signaling them to be quiet, Max motioned for them to precede him into Isabel's room.
Maria held back a few steps, waiting until they'd stepped inside, then moved soundlessly into Max's room. She smiled as she took in Michael's sleeping form. His face looked unfamiliar for a moment before she realized that in repose he had lost the icy look he'd been wearing for weeks. Picking up the discarded quilt, she once more covered him with it. "Told you I'd tuck you back in," she whispered. He didn't so much as move.
Heading into Isabel's room, she held her head high, unashamed of her lapse into sentimentality. Isabel smiled, but didn't comment. Max, however, had a worried look on his face.
"What?" she said.
"He asked me if I'd put him under," Max said, uncertain of her response. "He wasn't really ready for the DeLuca method."
"So?" She looked at him for a moment, puzzled, then realized. "God, Max," she said with a ladylike snort. "I'm not mad at you or anything. I don't care how he fell asleep. I'm just glad he did." She looked around at the four friends surrounding her and unknowingly echoed Michael's words. "Let's get on with it."
Moving around the bed, Isabel patted the spot next to her. "Come on, Maria. All aboard the Dreamwalker Express, destination Michael's dream desert and points west, no stops."
Maria grinned and joined her. With Max in position by Isabel's side, they were ready. Isabel had taken Maria's hand and was beginning to focus on Michael's picture when Maria sat bolt upright. "What is it?" Isabel asked sharply.
"Nothing," the other girl said. "Well, nothing much, anyway. It's just..." Her voice trailed off and she looked at her best friend. "Liz?" she asked. "Would you mind...sitting with him?" She ignored Liz's understanding look and tried to justify the request. "It's been a hard day, and we're all in this together, and I...I just don't want him to be alone," she admitted softly.
"He won't be," Liz answered. With a sincere "Good luck," she left the room.
"Okay, now I'm ready." Maria lay back down, and the dreamwalking process began. A few moments, some confusing flashes and an intensely brilliant white light later, she opened her eyes to find herself standing with Isabel in a familiar-looking desert.
Looking up at the cloudless sky, Isabel spoke in caution. "We have to get this right. If it doesn't work, there's no way Michael will let us try it again."
"I know," Maria answered. "But it shouldn't be so hard this time. I mean, we've already been here, so we know what to expect. And there's still a hole in the wall, so all we have to do is reach in and pull Michael out. Then when he wakes up, he should be himself again, right?"
Isabel nodded hopefully. "So let's find him. Which direction?"
Maria slowly turned in a circle, trying to get a feel for Michael's location. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "What happened to my footprints, anyway?"
"It got a little breezy the last time I was in here," Isabel answered. "They must have been covered over with sand."
"Great," Maria complained. "Well, this way is as good as any." With that she headed across the sand, her hands outstretched. She wasn't going to run headfirst into anything this time, that was for sure.
Together, the girls walked for what seemed like hours, exchanging the occasional comment or complaint. After a while, Maria stopped and turned to look at the trail of footprints in the sand behind her. "We're not getting anywhere," she complained. "Did it take this long last time?"
"I don't think so. Maybe we're going in the wrong direction." Isabel pushed a few strands of hair off her hot face.
"I can feel him in every direction, so how can there be a wrong one?"
"Don't ask me. I'm just the transport on this little jaunt. You're the navigator."
Maria grumbled, "Where's Rand McNally when you need them? I'm working without a map here." She took another look around and continued, "Well, let's keep going. We're not going to accomplish anything standing still."
* * * * *
Alex perched on Isabel's desk chair, watching Isabel and Maria as they lay unmoving, with Max kneeling nearby, maintaining the connection between them. At least they were doing something about the situation. All he could do was sit. And watch. And wait. And barring something going wrong, that's all he would be doing. He fervently hoped Liz wasn't feeling as useless as he was right now.
In the next room, Liz wasn't feeling at all useless. She was too busy feeling worried. Thoughts of the ongoing dreamwalk had filled her mind and kept her distracted for a while, but then a restless movement from Michael caught her attention. Was he awake? Was it over? She moved closer. His hands were moving fitfully across the fabric of the quilt, and his brows were drawn together in a grimace, but he was still asleep.
Kneeling by the side of the bed, Liz watched him uneasily. Max had said Michael was prone to nightmares. Somehow she was certain that she didn't want to know what he was dreaming about, that it would be darker and more disturbing than she could handle. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a sudden chill, and remained by the side of the bed, afraid of trying to soothe him for fear of waking him. The others were taking action and all she could do was sit and watch, powerless to help.
* * * * *
"How long have we been in here?" asked Maria, kicking at the sand in frustration.
"A few hours, maybe," replied the taller girl. "It's hard to tell."
"It isn't working!"
"Give it some time. Alex won't pull us out unless something looks like it's going wrong. Be patient."
"How can I be patient?" Maria cried out. "I'm no good at it. You want patience, talk to Liz. Wackiness is more my strong suit. Well, that and putting up with pigheaded, contrary aliens who would drive a sane person crazy! Arrgh! This is hopeless!"
"Maria, don't give up now. We can--"
"Give up?" Maria said, aghast. "I have absolutely no intention of giving up here, Isabel. Geesh, there was no reason to spoil a perfectly good rant."
Isabel smiled. "All right. Rant on."
"Well, now I'm not in the mood," Maria said sheepishly. They walked on for a few more steps, and she asked, "So how does this whole dreamwalking thing work, anyway? I mean, if one part of Michael is asleep and we're in his dream, can he see us?" Stopping in her tracks, she looked up at the empty sky and shouted, "Okay, Michael. You agreed to this dreamwalk. So help us out here already! It's your dream--give us a sign or something."
Isabel snickered. "What are you waiting for, a burning bush? He's Michael, not God."
"Oh, believe me, I am not confusing the two," Maria riposted. "I just think that since it's his problem we're working on, he could give us a little help!" Her voice rising shrilly, she called, "Got that, Michael Guerin? Get off your lazy dreaming butt and do something!"
There was no response. But then again, Maria wasn't really expecting one, so she wasn't surprised. With a sigh, she started trekking across the sand once more.
Behind her, Isabel could hear her muttering under her breath, but couldn't make out any of the words, for which she was grateful. She looked around for something else to focus on, and found it. Putting a hand out, she latched onto Maria's sleeve.
"What?"
"Did you just ask for something to happen?" Maria nodded. "Well, look."
Following her pointing finger, Maria took one look and felt her heart take up residence in her throat. "Oops."
CHAPTER 23
"Oops?" blurted Isabel. "That's all you can say, Oops?"
"This was not what I meant when I asked Michael to do something," Maria shot back. "Do you think he's the one doing it?"
"I don't know."
Maria turned her face up to the sky and shouted. "Michael! If this is your idea of helping, you are seriously warped! You can quit already!" Isabel remained staring into the distance. Maria peered in the same direction. "Is it stopping?" she asked hopefully.
Shaking her head, Isabel responded, "I don't think so."
"Of all the times for Michael to listen to me!" fumed Maria. "No, he has to wait until we're in the middle of his freaky little dream to do what I ask."
"If it is him, he might not even be aware of it," Isabel pointed out. "You can't really control what happens when you dream."
"Now's a great time to tell me that!" Maria looked once more into the distance. What had been flat desert and empty sky was no longer. Instead, a rapidly building breeze from out of nowhere tossed the desert floor nonchalantly into the sky. It slammed the sand violently down into a mountainous dune before picking it up and forcing it once more into the air. It was hard to tell through the blowing sand where the desert floor ended and the sky began. What was even worse, it was moving ominously in their direction.
"What do we do?" asked Maria. "It's one thing to be stuck inside Michael's brain, but it's another to be buried under a ton of sand." A horrible thought struck her. "You know how they say that if you die while you're dreaming, you die for real? Well, what if you die in someone else's dream?"
"I don't know. You've already been hurt in here once; we can't take the chance that something worse could happen." Isabel studied the oncoming wall of sand. "I'll have to try and pull us out of the dream," she decided.
Maria grabbed her arm. "You can't! You said it yourself, Michael will never let us dreamwalk him again. We can't leave until we find him."
"I don't think much of our chances of surviving that," said Isabel bluntly, gesturing toward the approaching sandstorm. "We don't have another choice."
"Sure we do. We have to. Can't you..." Maria's mind raced, trying to devise a solution. "Can't you manipulate the sand around us into some kind of shelter?"
"This is Michael's dream. I can't affect anything in it, remember? You're the one leaving the footprints."
"Yeah, well, about the only thing I can do is dig," said a very tense Maria. "And I don't think a little hole in the sand is going to protect us from an entire desert full!"
Isabel looked back towards the storm, which was moving inexorably closer to where the two girls stood. "We need to get out of here. Now," she responded brusquely.
Maria planted herself on the ground. Crossing her arms, she refused to budge. "I am not leaving."
Isabel looked at her and let out a hiss of frustration. "Fine. Then there's only one thing we can do. Run!"
They turned their backs to the oncoming wall of sand and took off. The high-pitched shriek of the wind behind them grew louder as they raced across the sand toward...more sand. There was no shelter in sight, nothing to protect them from the ever-approaching storm which loomed malevolently over them. Only more sand--albeit sand that just lay on the ground like it was supposed to--but sand nonetheless. There was nothing to help them.
That is, until Maria, a few steps in the lead despite her shorter legs, ran into something hard and invisible and fell backward into the sand with a grunt. D�ja vu. Seeing her, Isabel pulled up short and managed to barely avoid a head-on collision of her own. "I think it's Michael's wall," she cried. "Come on!"
Reaching out, she pulled the smaller girl to her feet and tugged her around to the opposite side of the cylinder. They huddled together against the invisible barrier, watching as the onrush of sand split around it and rushed forward, leaving chaos in its wake. Squeezing her eyes tightly closed, Maria held on to the wall with all her might. The sound of the wind-tossed sand overwhelmed her, filling her ears with its vicious roar. And then, for a moment, she thought she heard a voice underneath the rushing volume of the wind. An oddly familiar voice, too muffled to understand.
With a last violent crescendo, the moving sand dune drowned out all other sound and thundered past. Even though they couldn't see it, Michael's cylindrical prison had protected then from the bulk of the windblown sand. Maria was left, coughing miserably, as the last few grains settled back down on the now quiescent desert floor. She turned to see a sand-coated Isabel. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I think so," Isabel grimaced. "I'm just...dirty." With a wave of her hand, she caused the sand sticking to her clothes, skin and hair to dissipate as if it were never there. Maria, covered with remnants of the desert floor, watched her intently and attempted to wipe off her face with an equally encrusted hand.
"I thought you couldn't do that kind of thing in here," she said, spitting out a mouthful of sand.
"I can't affect the dream. But I'm not really a part of the dream; I'm just observing it," explained Isabel. "I can affect myself." Reaching out her hand, she continued, "And I should be able to affect you." A small burst of energy and Maria was clean as well.
"Thanks," she said. She looked around at the now calm desert. "That was really...frightening."
"Uh-huh."
A wrinkle appeared between Maria's brows. "Did you...did you hear anything, Isabel?"
"Just the storm. It was really noisy. Why?"
"It's nothing, I guess. I just thought I heard something else."
"What?"
Maria stared down at her hands. "A voice."
"Whose voice? Michael's? It's his dream."
"It wasn't Michael, that much I do know. I don't know who...but it sounded familiar," she said thoughtfully.
"Max? Liz?"
Maria shook her head. "I don't know. I couldn't make out what it was saying. If I even did hear something...Maybe I imagined it."
Isabel studied her carefully. "Maybe." She looked at Maria, who was still frowning at her hands. "What?"
"I don't know. It just...it just really bothers me." She shook it off. "Never mind. It's not important, I guess."
Isabel gave her a shrug and a half smile. "We were lucky this time. We can't afford to take any more chances."
Maria turned to face her, a pleased expression on her face. "We don't have to. We found it, remember?" Gingerly rubbing her forehead, she tilted her head up and motioned with her chin at the space above them. "If I'm not mistaken, there should be a Czechoslovakian-made opening in the barrier, shouldn't there?"
"There should be." The two girls stood and looked for the opening. Although they couldn't see the structure in front of them, a squarish block of darkness was visible, as if hanging in midair. Crowding together in front of it, they peered in. It was very dim inside, too dark to make anything out.
"Michael?" called Maria. "It's me. Me and Isabel. We came to get you."
There was no answer, and no sign of movement inside. Isabel turned to the smaller girl and raised an inquiring eyebrow.
"He's got to be in there. I'm going in," Maria said.
Isabel grabbed her arm to halt her. "You can't. The last time you went into that room, you vanished in real life. Disappear again and Alex will think something's wrong--he'll pull us out of the dreamwalk."
"And Michael will never let us back in," finished Maria softly. She considered for a moment. "Well, what if I just stuck my head in far enough to see? You don't think it would disappear, do you?"
"Do you really want to risk it? I mean, Alex won't be too pleased if just your head disappears, either. Decapitation isn't really a good look for you."
Maria snickered. "You're right, I'm short enough already. But he's not answering, so I guess it's our best plan."
"Tell you what. I'll hold onto you. That way if you have any problems, I can pull you out," Isabel suggested.
Maria nodded. "It's a plan. Here goes." Placing one hand on the barrier, she held the other behind her. Isabel took it. Then, taking a deep breath, Maria leaned forward through the window. It was extremely dark inside, and she squinted to try and make out anything in the dimness.
"Do you see him?" she heard.
She called back, "No. Give me a second, why don't you?" Her eyes slowly began to adjust to the lack of light and she scanned the cylindrical room. It wasn't very big. Where could he have gone? "Michael?" she called again. "Why won't you answer me?"
A cracked voice responded, so low she could barely hear it. "Because you're not real."
"Michael!" she exclaimed. Pulling her hand out of Isabel's and ignoring the other girl's protest, she put both hands on the edge of the window and leaned further forward, looking down. He was there, huddled under the opening with his arms wrapped protectively around his knees and his head bowed. "Michael, I am so real. I'm here."
"You always say that, but you never are," he answered haltingly. "You keep coming back, but you're never here." He gave a wild laugh, which frightened her. "You can't fool me any more."
"What's going on?" Isabel called from outside. Maria motioned behind her for Isabel to hush.
"I'm not fooling you, I promise. I'm really here, and so is Isabel. We came to get you out."
Again he gave a bark of laughter, totally mirthless. "Nobody ever comes for me."
She could almost feel her heart splitting into pieces. "I came for you, Michael. I will always come for you."
His response was so low she could hardly hear as he repeated to himself, "Nobody ever comes for me." Maria looked down at him, her heart breaking. What had happened to him? He was fine when she'd last seen him, before she'd fallen asleep in his arms. And from what Isabel had said when she described the later events of that evening, he hadn't been any different when he and the other Michael rescued her from death in the round room. But now, he almost seemed...well, broken. As if something within him had snapped, leaving behind a living, breathing shell. She bit her lip. What should she do?
She was temporarily saved from having to make that decision by Isabel, who grabbed her by the back of the shirt and hauled her from the window. "What's going on?" the alien asked again. "Is he in there?"
"Yeah. Couldn't you hear him?"
"No, I couldn't hear anything, or see anything. Is he coming or what?"
Maria swallowed. "I'm not sure he can, not by himself. He...Isabel, there's something really wrong. He doesn't believe I'm really there, and he keeps saying I'm not real."
The taller girl whispered, "What?" in a panicked voice.
"Just hold on a minute. I'm going to try to reach him." Leaning back in through the window, Maria said softly, "Michael? I can prove I'm real, and that I'm here for you. Just reach up and take my hand."
His only movement was a small negative motion of his head. "Please, Michael," she begged. "Just take my hand."
"Leave me alone," he responded desperately. "Go away. You're not really here."
"Yes, I am," she said firmly. "And if you won't believe me, then I will climb in there and prove it to you."
She heard Isabel gasp outside. "You can't, Maria! The last time, you almost died."
"I know that," she hissed back. "Stop interrupting." She turned back to Michael. "I'll come in if you want me to, and I won't leave you. But it's not safe for me in there, Michael, and I can't survive for very long inside. Please, just take my hand first and let me prove I'm here. Please, Michael."
His hands clenched as he struggled inwardly, trying to believe her words. Looking up doubtfully, he seemed almost afraid to see her. "Come on, Michael. You can do this. I know you can," she coaxed, before adding with a tense smile, "Besides, if you don't I don't know what I'll do. Yes I do, I'll...I'll...well, I'll come in there and sing every pop tune I can think of. And the Bee Gees, Michael, I'll sing Bee Gees songs. And not one note of Metallica. So if you value your hearing, you'll get off your butt and take my hand already!"
He stared up at her, not reacting to her threat, until she began to cry silently, the tears welling up and spilling out of her eyes like so many raindrops in a parched desert. With an indrawn breath, he pushed himself to his knees.
"You never cry," he said doubtfully. "You're there and you say things and then you go away, over and over and over again. But you never cry."
"I told you, I'm real," she choked out. "Real girls cry when they're upset."
He cocked his head to one side, a first glint of hope appearing behind his dull eyes as he looked at her. Locking his gaze with hers, he slowly put up one hand, reaching for her with a terrible fear and hope and need and doubt. She reached out as well and wrapped both hands tightly around his. His fingers clutched convulsively on hers, and he didn't tear his eyes away from her.
"Told you I'm real," she said lightly, with a tremulous smile.
"You are," he responded. "I really think you are." He slowly got to his feet, not letting go of her hands, and stood diffidently before her.
"Are you all right. Michael?" she asked in some concern.
"Yeah, I think so. Now," he answered.
"You were acting a little weird, even for you, that's all. You scared me," she said.
"I think I was kind of going out of my mind," he said seriously, then gave her a halfhearted self-deprecating smirk and added, "Not like I was using it anyway."
"Hey!" she cried indignantly, rushing to defend him from himself; then she caught a real hint of life in his eyes and grinned. "Hey, what do you know? You're growing a sense of humor." Ignoring Isabel, who had begun to tug at her back, she went on, "I am really happy to see you again, Michael. I--" An extra firm tug caused her to stop, and she turned her head, calling over her shoulder, "Would you quit already? I'm trying to have a conversation here."
"I thought I heard someone else, but I figured I was imagining it too," Michael said. "Who--?"
"Isabel. How else could I have gotten in here, silly?" she teased.
A look of clarity grew on his face. "What are you doing back here, anyway? We got you out!"
"And now I'm back. Isabel and I came back for you, so hurry up and climb out of there, Spaceboy. Let's go home. Everyone's waiting for you--Max, Liz, Alex...hey, even you are waiting for you."
He abruptly pulled his hands away from hers and took a step backwards, running a hand nervously through his hair. "What?" she complained. When he didn't answer, she set her mouth firmly and said, "Look, I've had a very hard day. You know, the usual customers from hell at work, and then a battle practically to the death to get you to go to sleep, and then on top of everything, your little Tatooine dream world here almost smothered us! That's it. I came for you and I am not leaving without you. So you either get your butt out here, Michael Guerin, or I'm coming in there. Until you are back in Roswell, buddy, consider us joined at the hip." He blinked. "And not in a fun way, either!" she shouted.
"What, are you stupid?" he burst out. "You can't come back in here. You'll die!"
Ahhhh. This was the temperamental, totally emotion-filled alien that she loved. Yesssss. She cheered mentally. Not that she didn't love the other Michael, too, but she'd missed his passion and vehemence. Besides, she liked their little squabbles. What could she say--they challenged each other. She looked up at him defiantly. "Then you'd better come out, huh, Michael?"
He balled up his fists and began to retort, "I--"
"Oh, no. No excuses. Just make a choice, one way or the other. Which is it going to be, Michael, you out here or me in there?"
With a curse, Michael spun around, his back towards her and let out a stream of foul language that impressed her no end. She'd had no idea that his vocabulary was so...extensive. Good thing her mother wasn't there with a cake of her favorite soap, or Michael would be burping bubbles for a week. Maria stood and watched intently as his cursing petered out and his shoulders slumped forward resignedly. Then, turning around with his jaw set stubbornly, he moved toward the window and barked, "Shove over."
With a grin, she called back to Isabel, who up till then had been waiting impatiently behind her. "It's okay, he's coming out!" she cried jubilantly. There was no response from the taller girl, and Maria turned to find her looking up at the sky with a worried expression on her face. "What is it?" she asked. "Another sandstorm?"
Isabel shook her head. "I thought I heard something," she said slowly. "A voice."
Maria tensed. "Like the one I thought I heard before?"
Nodding, Isabel continued to search the sky. "I couldn't hear it well enough to be sure, though. It was...eerie."
With some urgency, Maria turned back to Michael, who had his hands on the invisible windowsill in preparation for climbing out. He too was very still, as if frozen in place. "Mich--"
"Shhhh," he commanded. He swept his eyes across the horizon, the rest of his body perfectly still.
With a frown, Maria concentrated on listening as hard as she could. She heard nothing other than the faint sounds of their breathing. Wait--was that something? A chill ran down her spine. As if from a great distance, a voice whispered, barely loud enough to hear. Somehow she knew it was saying terrible, horrible things, things that she wouldn't be able to bear, even if she were actually able to make out any of the words. With a feeling of impending peril closing in on her, she cried out, "We've got to get out of here! Climb out, Michael. Now!"
It took a moment for him to actually hear her, as if the almost inaudible voice were drowning out every other sound. When he finally did seem to hear her, though, he didn't move, as if planted to the floor inside the round room. Grabbing his hand, she shouted at Isabel. "Help him!" The other girl rushed to the opening and took Michael's right hand, and together they began to haul him out through the window. "Hurry!" Maria sobbed. His feet were just about to clear the barrier when a giant flash of light blotted out everything, and Maria felt herself falling...
CHAPTER 24
Liz fell back with a yelp as Michael surged off the bed in one sudden, unexpected movement and stood, wild-eyed and shivering. Lying on the floor where she'd fallen, she stared up at the tall alien. He was breathing hard and his eyes darted unchecked around the room as if he were unsure of where he was. "Michael?" she squeaked.
At the sound of her voice, he went still, and the turbulence seemed to die down in his eyes. Blinking, he turned to her slowly, no expression on his face. "You're awake," she said, and then mentally kicked herself for her inanity. Of course he was awake. He was standing right there, wasn't he?
"Did it work?" she questioned him. "Did you see them in your dream? What happened?" When he didn't answer, just looking at her mutely, she grabbed him by the arm to pull him from the room. She'd see for herself. Intent on getting next door to Isabel's room, she missed the sudden whitening of his face. By the time they got there, his face was once more devoid of expression.
Bursting into the room, Michael in tow, she gasped out, "What happened?" Alex was kneeling by the side of the bed, holding up a shaking Maria, while Max did the same for Isabel. Both girls looked exhausted. Actually, so did Michael; a few short hours of forced slumber evidently wasn't enough to catch him up, however strongly he denied his need for sleep.
"Michael woke up, and we got pushed out of the dream," said Isabel tautly. "When it happened we were just pulling him out."
"Did it work?" asked Maria. Starting to raise her head, she flinched. "Ow. Got to stop running into things. What is it with the violent headaches, already?" she muttered. Carefully, to avoid jogging her throbbing head any further, she looked up. "Michael," she breathed, putting a hand out towards him. After a moment of hesitation, he took a few steps toward the bed, but then stopped to stand motionlessly, as if his attention was suddenly pulled elsewhere. He paled.
"You all right, man?" said Alex from his position by Maria's side.
Shaking off his reverie, the alien meeting Alex's gaze squarely. He ignored the question the teen had asked, and spoke in a ragged voice. "They dreamwalked. Are we even now?"
Startled, Alex nodded his head, saying, "Yeah."
Michael turned and abruptly pushed past Liz and out the door. Ignoring her pounding head, Maria was up and after him in an instant. She found him sitting on Max's bed, slowly pulling on his boots. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded. He didn't look up at her, much less answer. "We need to talk about what happened in there. I mean, did you see what was happening? Did we...did we get you out? Are you back?" Her speech stumbled to a halt. "Why won't you answer me?"
He grudgingly spoke. "Nothing to say."
"Michael, Isabel and I just risked our lives in there to get you out. The least you can do is tell us if it worked or not!"
"No," he said coldly, standing and moving abruptly towards the window. Maria pushed past him to block it.
"Oh no, you're not leaving yet. We need to go back in and get you."
"Maria." Alex's voice came from the open doorway. She willfully ignored him, instead advancing on Michael.
"I mean it," she said. "Go back to sleep." Reaching up, she placed her hands on his shoulders to push him back down onto the bed. "Max put you out once, he'll do it again."
He stood firmly in place, not allowing himself to be moved. "I promised Alex you could dreamwalk. You did. It's over."
"It can't be over," she said, a note of hysteria in her voice. "Don't you see? I promised you I'd always come for you. I can't leave you there, I just can't!" She looked beseechingly up at his shuttered face, and he looked away from her. "Michael, please," she said brokenly, gripping his shoulders tightly. "Please."
Moving toward her, Alex gave Michael a look torn between sympathy and entreaty and added his pleas to Maria's. "Once more, Michael. For Maria and Isabel. What can it hurt?" But he knew it was futile when he saw the alien look away. Alex gently pulled Maria's hands away from Michael and then held her as she turned and collapsed in his arms.
Leaving a distraught Maria to Alex, Michael quietly walked out of Max's room and back into Isabel's. Liz was perched on the bed, talking in low tones with the two aliens.
"Liz," he said gruffly. "Maria...she needs you."
With a startled look, Liz rose and unhesitatingly went to her friend, only pausing to say "Thanks" on her way out of Isabel's room.
Michael, left alone with his two oldest companions, stood silently, a somewhat distracted look on his face. Taking in his friend's weary stance, Max ventured, "Michael, you're exhausted. Let me help you get some more sleep." A sharply drawn breath caused him to hurry on, "Not to do any more dreamwalking, just to let you rest. You need it."
In an empty voice, Michael stated, "I don't need anything."
"Michael." Isabel made an abortive movement to get off the bed and cross to him, but he moved past her to the window and climbed out, leaving them alone.
Isabel called his name once more, but Max put his hand out to keep her from stopping him. "Let him go," he said softly.
"But, Max--" she began.
"He's close to the edge. Push him any more, and he'll snap."
"What do you mean, Max?" asked Liz from the doorway. Behind her, Alex watched, his arm around a shaken Maria.
"He's been pushed to his limit. Couldn't you feel it, Isabel? Maria?"
Neither girl answered, and the trio of humans slowly entered the room and sat. Sinking down on the bed next to Isabel, Maria bit her lip.
"What do we do now, Max?" Liz asked quietly.
Swallowing, he replied, "I don't know."
Then there was silence as the five friends stared numbly at the walls around them.
* * * * *
Unthinking, Michael Guerin trudged across town, the soles of his boots echoing into the silent night as they hit the pavement. He traveled without noticing where he was going, heading for his apartment by instinct alone. His fragmented mind could only focus on one thought.
He'd lied to her.
Well, not lied precisely, but she'd misinterpreted his adamant refusal to talk about what had happened and he hadn't corrected her. He'd just wanted to get out of there. He'd needed to. Something in the back of his brain was setting his teeth on edge, and he'd had to flee.
But not before--purposely or not--fooling them all.
He picked up his pace. The voice he'd heard inside his dream hadn't left when he'd awakened. He could still hear it. It drowned out almost every other sound and tore his focus and attention from his surroundings, from what they were saying, from her. He'd barely been able to act calmly, to keep from curling up in a little ball with his hands over his head in a futile attempt to drown it out.
The sounds of his feet came more rapidly as he broke into a jog and then a full-fledged sprint. But he couldn't outrun this.
Somehow he made it back to his apartment, never really knowing how he'd gotten there. He fumbled with his keys as he unlocked his door. Safely inside, he leaned back against it and slid to the ground. He had dreamed it once before, and it had never really gone away, but he'd been able to ignore it, to put it aside like it hadn't existed. But now he was back, and so was it, with a vengeance. He couldn't hide from it.
Killer.
Continue to CHAPTERS 25, 26 and 27
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