The Vanished (5 page)

“What is that thing?” Adam asked, gathering up the pieces of a broken table.

“This is a jukebox,” Michael explained. “Have you ever heard Elvis? Ray was definitely an Elvis man.”

“What's Elvis?” Adam asked. He hated asking questions like that. It made him feel like such a baby. But that's what
Dad
Valenti had wanted. A baby who depended on his daddy for everything — including information. He'd never even given Adam anything to read besides picture books.

Adam had been logging in some major hours on Max's laptop since he escaped from the compound, but there were still way too many things he was clueless about.

Michael laughed. “Not what,
who.
Elvis was a guy. He was the king of rock. Man! You've been denied the classics.” He pressed a few buttons on the front panel of the machine. “Now listen, and get ready to join the twentieth century.”

After a moment a strange, thumping beat filled the room, followed by a high-pitched wail. Adam stared at the jukebox as he listened. The music didn't sound like anything he'd ever heard before. It throbbed in his chest, and he started to nod along with the beat.

“There,” Michael said. “That's Elvis. You're getting it.”

A deep male voice began to croon, singing about a hound dog. The singer's voice quavered and warbled, and suddenly Adam found the whole thing hilariously funny. He let out a loud burst of laughter.

“You like it?” Michael asked with a grin.

Adam sat down on one of the stools flanking the small coffee bar in the corner. “I love it,” he said, twirling on the cushioned seat.

“Me too,” Michael replied as he polished the jukebox's trim with the bottom of his T-shirt. “Although we should get some CDs from some people who are still actually alive, too. And I wouldn't mind having something to sit on besides those deflated beanbags upstairs. We'll have to hit some yard sales, see if we can find a sofa. Or maybe two recliners, like those guys on
Friends
.”

Adam stopped twirling on the stool. Michael was talking about his place like it was Adam's as much as his. “Ray gave this place to
you
.”

Michael shrugged. “If he'd known about you, he would have given it to both of us,” he said. “We're from the same
planet
, you know? It's like we're family.”

Family. Adam had seen pictures of families in those baby books Valenti had given him. But he'd never thought . . . He'd known they weren't for him.

“Thanks,” Adam mumbled. It seemed the wrong thing to say, like there should be a better word.

“You know what the best part of having you live here is?” Michael asked. His tone was light, but Adam could see the emotion in his eyes.

“What?” Adam asked.

“You have to help clean.” Michael handed him a broom, and Adam began sweeping shards of broken glass from the display cases into a small pile. Suddenly sweeping was an absurdly fun activity.

The door opened, and Maria stepped in, followed by Max and Isabel. “The cleanup crew is here!” Maria announced. Then she looked around the room. “And apparently we're extremely late. You guys have done a ton already.”

“It's Adam,” Michael claimed. “He tears into cleaning like he enjoys it.”

“I do,” Adam insisted.

“Whatever,” Michael replied with a laugh.

Adam looked up just as Liz walked into the room, and his breath caught in his throat. She was wearing a red T-shirt that made her dark skin seem like it was lit from inside. Adam's face got hot, and he quickly turned away. He didn't want her or Max to catch him staring. Staring and smiling.

“I have to agree with Adam,” Isabel said. “You guys know how I feel about clutter.”

“No! You?” Maria asked. “Miss Anal USA?”

Isabel rolled her eyes but smiled. She pushed up the sleeves of her blue sweater. “So where can I start?”

“I'll take the alien autopsy section,” Liz offered. “But first you have to tell me the truth. Those things in the jars aren't real aliens, are they?”

“They look like chicken embryos to me,” Max said. “And I think that purple ‘alien lungs' jar is nothing but a plastic bag floating in Jell-O.”

“Ray was a sick puppy,” Isabel said affectionately. She began to reorganize the moon rock display.

“Anyone want to join me?” Liz asked. Adam was about to drop the broom and volunteer, but Max beat him to it.

“I'm there,” Max said, placing his hand on the small of Liz's back. Adam stared at Max's fingers, wishing they were his.

“The science geeks head for the biology display,” Maria said with a laugh. “Shocker.”

Adam gripped the broom handle hard and started sweeping with a vengeance. He might not have figured everything out about life aboveground, but Liz had made it very clear that Max was the only guy allowed to touch her. Adam had to remember that . . . no matter how beautiful she was or how amazing the sight of her made him feel.

Adam stepped back as Maria hung the last grainy, black-and-white picture of a flying saucer on the wall, moving her hips to the music pounding from the jukebox.

“It looks straight to me,” Adam said, squinting as he tried to keep from laughing at Maria's bizarre dance moves.

“Good,” she said, slapping her hands together. She turned around and addressed the room. “So, we've wasted enough time on housekeeping. How are we going to get Alex back?”

Adam glanced around at the blank faces of his friends, knowing his expression reflected theirs exactly.

“We could find the ship,” Isabel said finally, hopping onto a stool.

“How, brainiac?” Michael asked. “We have no idea who took it . . . or even how they managed to move something so big.”

“Yeah, it might take some time to track down the ship,” Max added. “A long time. I'm not saying we shouldn't look for it, but we need to think of an alternate way of bringing Alex home. The sooner the better.”

“So what's plan B?” Liz asked.

“That's the problem,” Max said. “We're currently plan B–less.”

“Comforting,” Isabel muttered. “Unfortunately, we can't rely on the collective consciousness for help,” Max said. He closed the glass door of a display case. “I'm not sure how long it will take for them to recover from opening the last wormhole, but I got the impression that it would be a few months, at least. So that's out.”

“Wait, you connected to the consciousness?” Liz asked, paling. “When?”

Max paused and looked quickly around the room, not really focusing on anyone. “Last night,” he said quietly.

Isabel jumped off the stool and grabbed his wrist. “Why didn't you
tell
us?” she asked. “How's Alex? Did they say anything about him?”

“He's . . . fine,” Max said, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans as his eyes flicked from one face to the next. “Alex is fine. But we still have to get him out of there.”

“Well,
obviously
,” Isabel said, crossing her arms over her chest. “But at least he's okay.”

“Yeah . . . so . . . ,” Max said.

Adam had the feeling there was something that Max wasn't telling them. His aura hadn't changed much, but there were a few minute flecks of oily yellow-green marring the rich jade.

“Wait a minute! If we all connected, could we open a wormhole ourselves?” Maria asked.

“Doubtful,” Michael said. He walked over to the small sink behind the counter and started rinsing rags. “It takes a huge amount of power. . . . Right, Max?”

Max sighed, staring at the floor. “It was a struggle even with the whole consciousness working hard at it,” he confirmed, running a hand over his blond hair.

“Well, what about the Stone of Midnight?” Liz asked. “Isn't that what that Stone is, really . . . a huge source of power?”

Wow, she's amazing, Adam thought as she brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek. He wasn't able to stop the weird turmoil she caused inside him. Being near her made his mouth dry and his palms sweaty. Adam kept losing track of the discussion because his attention always seemed to return to Liz . . . and not to what she was saying, either. There was something about her warm, amber aura that made him feel both thrilled and queasy and made his knees weak.

“I don't think using the Stone is the best idea,” Maria said. “I still see those bounty hunters in my nightmares.”

The words
bounty hunters
got Adam's full attention. “The bounty hunters got sucked through the worm-hole with Alex, though,” he reminded everyone.

Not that any of them could have forgotten the sight of those two creatures getting pulled into the vortex, their tentacle-lined mouths open wide.

“You're right,” Michael answered. “But we don't know how many bounty hunters were tracking the use of the Stone's power for DuPris. DuPris could have a whole battalion of them out there.”

A tiny shudder crossed Liz's body. Max moved closer to her and slid his arm around her shoulders.

Get off her. The thought blasted through Adam's mind, and he reminded himself for the billionth time that he actually liked Max and that Liz actually loved the guy.

“It's Alex. It's worth the risk of using the Stone,” Isabel said.

“Agreed,” Michael said. He turned away from the sink and leaned on the counter.

Max cleared his throat. “I hate to be the voice of reason here, but — ”

“You do not,” Isabel interrupted. “You live to be the voice of reason.”

Everybody laughed, and Adam couldn't help noticing Liz's happy, musical sound. He wanted to hear it as much as possible. He wanted to be the one to make her laugh.

Something was definitely wrong with him.

“You were saying?” Liz asked Max.

“Before I was so
rudely
interrupted,” Max continued with a smirk at his sister. “Yeah, maybe we could use the Stone. But we don't have it. DuPris does. And we have no idea where he is.”

Adam felt a chill. Max was right. DuPris could teleport — he could be anywhere. He could be halfway around the world . . . although that concept was a bit fuzzy to Adam, who had only taken his first steps outside a few weeks ago. Still, he understood the distance enough to know that DuPris could be far, far away. Unreachable.

Or he could be right nearby, Adam realized, hugging himself to ward off the wave of ice that had invaded his body. DuPris, with all his poisonous hatred, could be right here in Roswell, with someone else's face.

Michael could at least have the decency to look dumpy sometimes, Maria thought. It would make being around him a little easier.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he drove Ray's car along the boring stretch of Route 285 north toward Albuquerque. Michael had decided to check out the old ranch house in the desert where they'd had the showdown with DuPris. It was possible, if unlikely, that DuPris was holing up there, using the ranch house as a base. If they found DuPris, they'd find the Stone.

Maria stared out the window at a reddish tan ridge of rock that ran along the highway, jutting up from the desert in the distance. Like a wall, Maria thought. Like the wall that stood between her and Michael now.

Which was the reason she had volunteered to keep him company. She had to see if she could fix the mess that lay between them.

They rode in silence. Usually Maria would be chatting to fill the chasm of quiet that separated them, but she and Michael had always talked so easily before. . . .

Before she told him she loved him.

Oh, that was a great idea, Maria thought glumly. You told him how you feel about him, and now as punishment you have to sit in silence forever.

Maria peeked at him again. He was staring straight out the windshield, his mouth and eyes grim with concentration. What's he concentrating on? she wondered. Driving? DuPris? Cameron? Keeping me shut out of his life?

Say something, Maria ordered herself as he reached a junction and turned off Route 285 to Route 60 west. This is your Michael. Just talk to him. Say anything!

“Uh . . . ,” Michael said suddenly. He glanced at Maria and gave her a weak smile. “So . . .”

“Yeah?” Maria prompted. Talk to me! she screamed at him in her head. Can't you see I'm dying over here?

“Isabel seems really focused on getting Alex back,” Michael said. “I guess she misses him after all. More than I thought she would.”

“Why?” Maria shot back, more sharply than she'd intended. “I'm not surprised. Alex is a great guy. Of course she misses him. We all miss him.”

“Yeah, but that's not the kind of missing . . . ,” Michael began. He adjusted his hands on the steering wheel. “Forget it.”

Maria slumped back into the car seat. Isabel. Michael would have to mention her name, wouldn't he? Maria knew that Michael and Isabel had decided just to be friends, but hearing her name had made Maria remember the disgustingly embarrassing scene in which she'd tried to force Michael to choose between them.

He'd chosen Cameron instead. It had been one of the most humiliating, devastating moments in Maria's whole life.

Feeling more depressed now than when they'd started the trip, Maria turned to face the window as Michael pulled up in front of the ramshackle ranch house.

“What do we do now?” Maria asked.

“Have a look around,” Michael said. “Ready?”

“As I'll ever be,” Maria answered.

Together they walked up to the house. Maria found herself tiptoeing across the dirt yard, even though she knew it was impossible to sneak up on DuPris. At the front door Michael took a deep breath and turned the knob. The door swung open, and they both froze.

Nothing.

“He's not here,” Michael said, stepping inside. Maria followed. The air smelled stale, like no one had walked through to circulate it in over a week. The large front room echoed with emptiness.

“I don't think he ever came back to this place,” Maria said.

“I'm sorry for dragging you out here,” Michael said. “This was a total waste of time.”

Maria wandered farther into the room. She could still so easily picture the horrible scene that had taken place there, the sense of complete powerlessness, of being under DuPris's control.

She stopped over the spot where DuPris had kept her frozen in place.

What a good little bunny you are,
DuPris had murmured into her ear. Her terror at that moment had been overwhelming, and even recalling it now made her shiver.
I wonder what thoughts bunnies are capable of having. . . .

And then he'd plucked an image from her mind — an image of herself hoping to kiss Michael. Amused, DuPris had forced Maria to walk over to Michael and put her arms around him. It was the worst violation she'd ever experienced. At least touching Michael had allowed Maria to make a connection to him, which had broken DuPris's hold over them.

Now it seemed a total mystery how she'd made that deep connection with Michael. She couldn't even think of anything to
say
to him anymore — never mind a union of their auras.

Suddenly all of it — the gulf between her and Michael, DuPris getting away, Alex exiled to another galaxy — it was all too much for Maria to handle. She took a deep breath and burst into hot, uncontrollable sobs.

This was the last place she wanted to have a meltdown. Here. In front of him.

“Maria, don't,” Michael said, his voice soft and full of concern.

She wheeled around to face him, tears trailing down her face. She rubbed them away and struggled to get a grip, but fresh tears kept streaming down her cheeks. “How . . . how are we ever going to get . . . Alex back?” she choked out. “Everything's against us! Nothing . . . nothing . . . nothing's going right.”

“Maria, you —”

“No!” she shouted at him. “Don't ‘Maria' me! You don't even have the decency . . . the common
decency . . .
to look dumpy sometimes!”

“What?”
Michael demanded.

Maria turned away. “It doesn't matter,” she wailed. “Nothing matters. Alex is gone. DuPris has the Stone. And you . . .”

And you don't love me.

But Maria couldn't say that. She could never say that.

Instead she spun around and ran out the door. She bolted over to the car, jumped in, and slammed the door. She just wanted to be home. She just wanted to be away from Michael. She never thought she'd feel that way, but she did.

After a long moment Maria heard Michael climb behind the wheel. He didn't say anything, just wrapped his arms around her. His aura wrapped around hers with all the comfort of a towel straight out of the dryer.

“I just feel so awful . . . about everything,” she said, pressing her face into his shoulder.

“I know,” he said. “I do, too.”

“What are we going to do?” she asked, her voice muffled.