The Vanished (10 page)

“No, you're not supposed to ride like that,” Sheriff Dodson said. “But that's not why I'm here.” Then she handed Maria the package she was carrying. Maria just stared at it in her hands, unable to recognize it for a moment.

“It's your sleeping bag,” the sheriff said. “You forgot it, and I told your mom I'd track you down and give it to you.”

“Oh, thanks,” Maria said. She wondered if she sounded as dumbfounded as she felt.

Then Sheriff Dodson got a whiff of the cedar oil. “That's some interesting perfume you're wearing, Maria.”

Maria giggled uncontrollably. A voice in the back of her mind told her she was acting like a freak, but she was too nervous to stop. “It's cedar oil,” she exclaimed through her laughter. “It was an accident! I'm going to smell like this all day! Maybe even for the rest of my life.”

Shut up, she ordered herself. Please, please, just shut up and let Sheriff Dodson go.

“Are you okay?” Sheriff Dodson asked, peering through the window at the rest of Maria's friends. Maria's heart pounded. The sheriff was probably thinking her bizarre behavior was drug induced or something.

She took a deep breath. “I'm fine,” she said. “I just feel like an idiot. . . . You know, making you come out here with my bag and spilling oil all over me.” She paused and looked into the sheriff's amused face. Maria blushed. “Sorry.”

“That's okay,” Sheriff Dodson said. She patted the side of the Jeep. “You kids have fun.” Then with a small wave she turned and headed back to her cruiser.

Maria pressed her hands to her forehead and groaned.

“I feel like I just swallowed a pair of spiked heels,” Isabel said.

“That was pretty intense,” Max agreed. He waited for Sheriff Dodson's car to pass them before he headed back out onto the road.

“Maria,” Michael said, “I'd suggest you start checking that sleeping bag for some sort of tracking device.”

Maria giggled, clutching the bag to her chest.

Michael just looked at her. “I'm not kidding.”

It was dark by the time Max had found a place to park and everybody had agreed on where to set up camp. Max liked the spot they'd chosen. It was a mile or so from the main cavern in an area called Whites City, out in the backcountry open desert but protected from the wind by a jagged, crumbling outcropping of dark red rock. Nearby, large serrated cacti cast eerie shadows in the moonlight.

“So, we'll just camp out tonight and then take the first tour of the caverns in the morning?” Maria asked, dropping her bag on the ground.

“Yeah,” Max said. “I think we should get a sense of the place first.”

“How are we going to know if DuPris is there?” Liz asked, pulling the cooler out of the Jeep. “It's not like the guide's going to point him out along with the bats and other interesting features.”

“Well, with luck he'll use his powers and we'll be able to sense him,” Michael said. He pulled on his jacket and handed Max his sweater.

“We're probably going to have to go into the closed-off section,” Max said. “Hope everyone's ready for some spelunking.”

“Some what?” Adam asked.

“He's just trying to sound like he knows what he's talking about,” Isabel said. “Ignore him.”

“Cave exploring,” Michael explained. He shook his head. “I can't believe I actually associate with someone who uses the word
spelunking
in conversation.” He turned to Adam. “I'm going to make a fire. Help me out?”

“Sure,” Adam said. “What do I do?”

Max smiled. Sometimes Adam was like a puppy dog around Michael. And the amazing part was that Michael actually put up with it.

“Go out and collect some dried tumble-weeds — thick ones if you can find them,” Michael instructed.

Soon the fire was roaring, sending up sparks and smoke into the starlit sky. Everyone gathered around the fire, pulling out food they'd brought.

“Guys? What are we going to do if we don't find DuPris?” Maria asked tentatively as she settled to the ground. “I mean, without the Stone . . .” She trailed off, leaving only the crackling of the fire to break the tense silence.

“Without the Stone, how are we going to bring Alex back,” Max finished finally.

“We're gonna find him,” Isabel said firmly, staring into the fire. “I know we are.”

“And that's the attitude we should keep,” Max said, looking at each of his friends. “We're going to find DuPris, and we're going to figure out a way to bring Alex home safely. We have to believe it, or we shouldn't even bother trying.”

Liz looked up at him and smiled. “Right,” she said firmly. “Tomorrow we bring Alex back.”

“Right,” Maria repeated.

Michael slapped his hands together. “Well, now that we're all settled on that, let's eat.”

“Mr. Sensitive,” Isabel muttered.

“What?” Michael asked, his eyes wide. “Alex wouldn't want us to starve.”

Liz laughed. “The man has a point. Alex did — ” She corrected herself quickly. “Does. Alex does love his food.”

“And so do I,” Michael answered. He reached out and grabbed the Tupperware container filled with nachos from the café. “Mine,” he said, cradling the nachos close to his chest and stroking the blue plastic lid lovingly. “Mine.”

Max ripped open a bag of Cosmic Crunch, stuffed a handful into his mouth, and passed the bag to Liz. It's like a celebration before the apocalypse, he thought, feeling a little creeped out. Enjoy yourself now because tomorrow . . . who knows what will happen?

“Max? I brought jalapeño potato chips and soy sauce just for you,” Liz said, holding up a bright red bag.

“Thanks,” Max said with a small smile. “But I think I'll go for a walk first.”

Liz's lips tightened slightly, and Max's heart responded with a sharp pang. “I'll be right back,” he promised. Then he shoved himself to his feet and headed off before she could argue or volunteer to come with him.

Max found a big shrub a few yards from the campsite and took a seat on a large flat rock behind it. He needed to connect to the consciousness.

Connect more deeply, to be exact. The connection was never broken anymore.

Max concentrated on shutting out the sounds of his friends and took a deep breath. He hadn't told the others about his encounter with Alex. He didn't want to worry them, and he'd been hoping against hope that the anger had died down. That Alex wasn't so terrified.

“Just let me be right,” Max muttered.

He leaned back and opened himself up to the maelstrom of images hovering at the back of his mind. Then he waited for the sense of belonging that always greeted him on his immersion into the consciousness.

Instead he was enveloped in a pocket of rage. Shrieks of fury in frenzied voices swirled around him from beings surrounding him. Max felt like he'd been sucked into a whirlpool of lava and then tossed to crash against jagged, molten rocks.

These beings were calling for Alex's life to be extinguished. They wanted him dead.

Now.

Isabel leaned against Michael's shoulder, enjoying the flickering warmth of the bonfire. Michael felt solid against her arm. Comforting and protective.

Brotherly.

“How was it I ever thought I could date you?” she asked Michael cheerfully, tilting her head back to look up at him. “It would have been a huge mistake.”

“Definitely. But you're beautiful and I'm beautiful, so it seemed to make sense at the time,” Michael joked.

Isabel sat up on the thick plastic pad she'd brought with her. “Beautiful! Beautiful? You're so conceited!” she squealed.

“Men are not beautiful,” Maria jumped in. “Only women can be beautiful.”

“I am beautiful, and you both know it,” Michael replied with a smile.

“God!” Isabel exclaimed. “You're more arrogant than I am.”

“Nah, it's not arrogance,” Michael said. “It's just a basic understanding of reality.”

“See?” Isabel said to the others. “Total arrogance.”

“He's self-centered, too,” Maria piped up.

Isabel grinned. Maria deserved to get in a few jabs of her own.

“Hey!” Michael protested. “Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, all right?”

“We don't,” Maria reassured him. Then she gave him a long look up and down. “In fact, I've changed my mind. I do think you're beautiful.”

“Hey!” Isabel protested.

“Thank you,” Michael said primly.

“And you're lucky you are,” Maria continued. She leaned closer to him. “Because if you weren't beautiful, we'd have no use for you. You're way too conceited!”

“Go, Maria,” Isabel said, impressed. Who knew the girl had it in her?

Michael rolled his eyes and pretended to ignore them.

“Michael, Michael,” Isabel continued, enjoying herself. “So vain, it's insane.”

“I am not listening to this,” Michael said.

“That rhymes,” Maria called. “It's a song.”

Isabel laughed, watching Michael's face start to turn red. “Michael, Michael,” she repeated, adding a lilt to her voice. “So conceited . . . I'm defeated.”

“That doesn't even make sense,” Michael protested, obviously trying hard to keep his cool.

“Yes, it does,” Adam jumped in.

“Michael, Michael,” Maria sang. “So arrogant, he makes the girls pant.”

“All right, that's it,” Michael said. He grabbed the bag of marshmallows away from Adam. “One more little rhyme from either of you and it's war.”

Right, Isabel thought. I'm so scared.

“Michael, Michael,” she sang, batting her eyelashes at him. “So egotistical, it's almost . . . metaphysical.”

Michael flung a marshmallow, and she felt it bop onto her forehead. He instantly doubled over in laughter.

Isabel narrowed her eyes at him. “You're so dead.” While he was busy laughing, she grabbed the bag of marshmallows out of his grasp and pulled one out.

“Don't even think about it,” Michael said. He had stopped laughing.

“Oh, you have no idea what I'm thinking, my friend,” Isabel said. She hurled the marshmallow at Michael. It flew off into the desert, missing him by at least five feet. Isabel winced. Her aim had never been that great. Michael shook his head, laughing at her lack of coordination.

Irritated, Isabel reached out and
snapped
the marshmallow with her mind. It had already passed Michael by, but it veered awkwardly and hit him on the back of the head.

“My turn!” Maria shouted. She tore open a second bag and began lobbing marshmallows in Michael's direction.

Michael picked up marshmallows that had landed near him and returned fire at both Maria and Isabel. Liz screeched and scrambled away from the fray while Adam just looked on with interest.

As Isabel ducked and threw, she decided that Liz and Adam shouldn't be allowed to stay neutral in this war. Her next volley was directed at their heads.

Suddenly they had a full-fledged marshmallow fight on their hands. Shrieks of laughter filled the night sky.

My friends are
so
juvenile, Isabel thought, whipping another marshmallow into the fray.

Liz mashed a marshmallow on Adam's forehead, then turned to flee. But before she could make a move, Adam grabbed her around the waist, wielding two marshmallows with his free hand.

Liz screamed but was silenced when Adam stuffed the two marshmallows into her mouth. She started to laugh, but when she sucked in her breath, she pulled her mouthful of marshmallow goo down into her throat. In a moment of panic she realized the goo had lodged there. She wasn't getting any air.

As she gasped for breath, Liz saw Adam's eyes widen in horrified shock. He pounded on her back as Liz attempted to force the marshmallows either up or down.

I just want to breathe, her brain screamed as her eyes watered. Breathe!

Finally she swallowed painfully and took a gulp of air. She dissolved into coughs, and Adam stopped pounding and started rubbing her back soothingly.

His hands were warm and comforting as she dropped shakily to the ground, holding her aching throat with both hands. Adam sat with her.

“Sorry! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?” he asked. His hands were still touching her back, lightly caressing her shoulder blades.

All Liz's perceptions focused on the touch of Adam's hand. She felt light-headed, almost as if she were tipsy. “Who spiked the 'mallows?” she mumbled.

I felt like this when we were dancing, Liz remembered, her thoughts coming slow and somehow soft. It felt . . . good.

Liz frowned. When had they gone dancing? Suddenly the dream she'd had the other night flooded back to her. Adam was there. He had done something to a nightmare she'd been having. He'd changed it, made it safe.

“You were in my dream.”

“Liz, I'm so sorry,” Adam said gently, his breath against her ear. His low voice sent a tingling shiver down her side. “I wasn't trying to spy on you or anything. I just — ”

“Don't worry about it.” Liz jumped up. “I'm going to bring Max some marshmallows,” she blurted out. She grabbed an almost empty package off the ground. “He loves these things.”

Liz ran her hand through her hair as she walked away from the campfire. She suddenly realized she was trembling, and she wrapped her arms around herself. Things had been getting a little . . .
complicated
there with Adam for a moment.

She had to see Max. Right now. Where had he disappeared to, anyway? When he wandered away from the campfire, Liz had assumed he wanted to find someplace private to connect with the collective consciousness, but he'd been gone a long time. Too long.

Liz shook her head. She was actually feeling jealous of a group of beings on a planet that was so far away, it couldn't be seen from the earth. She was losing it.

She kept walking, trying to enjoy the peace of the desert and not get all crazed. Her feet crunched on the dry ground as she wandered in a rough circle around the campsite.

She was about to give it up — or start screaming his name like a loon — when she spotted him. He was sitting cross-legged on a rock, staring away from her. His skin seemed to glow with a slight silver tint in the starlight.

Liz hurried over to him. “Hey, Max — ”

She froze when she got a good look at his face. His eyes were glazed, expressionless, and his cheeks were slack. There was more movement in the vast emptiness of the desert than in Max Evans's body. He looked like the living embodiment of a black hole.

Liz shivered. She knew Max was just connected to the consciousness, but the sight of him so motionless and . . .
vacant
was deeply disturbing.

For a second she considered shaking him. But Max would only be annoyed that she'd interrupted him — not the mood she wanted him in. She turned away and began walking slowly toward the camp.

Why couldn't she have found Max talking to a cute girl or something? At least Liz knew how to deal with other girls.

When she reached the campfire, Liz hesitated. Maybe this wasn't the best plan. Adam was over there, and . . . Well, it just wasn't a good idea.

I should just pack it in, Liz thought as she veered off to the flat area where they'd all set up their sleeping bags. Tomorrow's going to be a long day, anyway.

As she crawled into her sleeping bag, Liz pushed aside a strong feeling of disappointment. This wasn't the way she'd expected to be going to sleep when she'd first heard about this trip. She'd been looking forward to falling asleep curled up beside Max after some romance under the stars. Obviously that wasn't going to happen.

Liz closed her eyes and sighed, willing herself to stop obsessing and go to sleep.

But right before she drifted off, a thought crept into her mind unbidden, causing her heart to skip a beat.

Would Adam visit her in her dream again?

Even though the night had become cool, Michael's face felt hot and sweaty. The marshmallow war had been good exercise. He began to pick up the dirty marshmallows off the ground, tossing them into the fire.

“We didn't save any to roast,” he complained. “All day I'd been looking forward to toasting marshmallows on a stick, and now we wasted them all.”

“It wasn't a waste,” Isabel said with a smile at Maria. “At least we managed to kick the guys' butts.”

“Keep dreaming,” Michael said. “You two were running for cover. Adam and I dominated, right?” He looked at Adam expectantly.

“Right,” Adam said, sounding less than enthused.

Michael felt for the guy. Liz had taken off kind of abruptly, and it was obvious Adam had a crush on her. It wasn't that Michael wanted Max and Liz to break up. Max was his best friend, and Michael thought Max and Liz made a good couple. But Michael knew what it felt like to get your heart trampled on.

But Michael was
not
going to think about Cameron.

“Oh, please,” Maria said. “Isabel and I beat you and Adam into the ground with our patented marshmallow bombardment.”

“Guys don't know how to fight,” Isabel added. “Oh, they think they're so tough, with their wars and everything, but for true combat, we girls win every time. Just think of that old saying, ‘Hell hath no fury — '”

“Get real,” Michael interrupted. “If
Alex
was here, we would have . . .”

Michael let his words trail off. Mentioning Alex had been a mistake. The party had crashed with a thud almost loud enough for Michael to hear. Everybody stared into the embers of the fire.

“Hey,” Michael said, trying to salvage the evening, “you know those lists Alex used to make?”

“Like the one about bad business ideas,” Maria said. “That was one of my favorites.”

“Exactly,” Michael said. “So I was thinking — ”

“What was the number-one idea?” Isabel asked.

“Months-of-the-year underpants,” Maria replied. “Alex is so twisted.”

“Hello!” Michael shouted, and his friends turned to look at him. “As I was saying, Alex's web site has been just sitting there since he got transported. And it's getting old fast. So we could — ”

“Update it!” Maria filled in. “So it's like we haven't forgotten about him. He'd be kind of still here.”

“Great idea,” Michael said sarcastically. “Why didn't I think of that?”

“I've got the laptop,” Adam said. He pulled out Max's computer from his knapsack.

“We can't upload anything since we don't have a phone, but we can make the list and then put it on-line later,” Isabel said.

Maria clapped and then rubbed her hands together. “Okay, let's go. Who's got an idea for a list?”

“Favorite kinds of toast?” Adam offered. “There's wheat, and rye, and with jam — ”

“No,” Isabel said. “Next.”

“Um . . . ,” Maria began. “How about ‘The Ten Best Holidays'? We could pick little ones, like Groundhog's Day or Flag Day.”