The Vanished

FIVE

Maria tried to open the front door to her house as quietly as humanly possible, but she wasn't doing a great job. The keys seemed to be making an incredibly loud jangling racket as she unlocked the door. It was late-very, very late. She'd still been on the road back from the ranch house with Michael at nine, and that was hours ago.

Not that it really mattered. Her mom was probably out somewhere wearing clothes that were way too tight for someone her age.

Maria stepped into the house and saw her ten-year-old brother, Kevin, standing on the stairs in his pajamas.

"You are in so much trouble," he whispered, his mouth exaggerating the shape of his words.

"Why?" Maria whispered back. "Is Mom-"

"Maria, is that you?" her mother called from the living room.

As Maria groaned, Kevin zipped back up the stairs. Little weasel, Maria thought without any real malice. Her little brother was an expert at getting out of the line of fire, a skill she wished she possessed.

Maria turned to see her mother swooping toward her across the foyer, a worried look on her face. She was wearing regular mom clothes-sweatshirt and jeans. Not a good sign.

And right beside her was Sheriff Kasey Dodson. A very bad sign.

For a second Maria thought her heart, trailing her entire circulatory system, was going to leap out of the top of her skull. Sure, she was late, but so late that her mom called the police on her?

Or what if Sheriff Dodson was Clean Slate, like Liz and Max suspected? What if she knew who Marias friends were and had come there to interrogate her?

"Where have you been?" Marias mother demanded. "It's after eleven, and I got no call, no note. Not acceptable."

"I was just over at Liz's," Maria lied quickly.

She couldn't say she'd gone on a road trip with a guy-even Michael. Her mother would freak, and mentioning him in front of the sheriff seemed like a bad idea-just in case she did know who Michael, Max, Isabel, and Adam really were.

"We got sucked into a late movie and lost track of the time. It was some old horror flick about giant ants." Maria knew that she ranked high on the list of the world's worst liars, but she could fool her mother if it was really necessary. Sheriff Dodson was another story. Maria glanced at the new sheriff to see how she was taking Maria's alibi.

There was a funny, small smile playing on Sheriff Dodson's lips, which could have been skepticism. But it was quickly replaced by a grim frown.

"You should call if you're out later than you expected," the sheriff advised sternly. "It's not fair to worry your mother when picking up the phone only takes a minute."

Maria blinked, turning over the sheriff's words, searching for any hidden meaning. She came up with nothing. The sheriff's statement seemed clean.

"You're so right," Maria told Sheriff Dodson, then turned to face her mother. "I'm sorry, Mom. I should have called."

"Next time, okay?" her mother replied.

"I will."

Maria's mother let out a long sigh. "Would everyone like some tea?" she asked. "I even have some with caffeine that Maria doesn't know about."

"Mom, you promised to cut out the stimulants," Maria protested.

"Sounds great, Mimi, but I can't," Sheriff Dodson interrupted, glancing at Maria. "If everything's okay here now, I've got to get home to Julie. If she wakes up and finds I'm not there… Well, it wouldn't be good."

Maria stared at the sheriff in confusion. Her mother's first name was Margaret, and only her close friends called her Mimi. What was going on? Why were her mother and Sheriff Dodson suddenly acting all buddy-buddy? And who was Julie?

"Some other time," Mrs. DeLuca said. "And thanks, Kasey, for helping me out tonight."

"No problem," Sheriff Dodson said as she headed toward the door. "You know where to find me if you need anything."

She walked out. It wasn't until after she closed the door behind her that Maria felt her heart rate begin to slow. Even though the sheriff hadn't said one word that seemed suspicious, Maria still felt like she'd just had a close call.

Mrs. DeLuca put her hand on Maria's shoulder. "I could still make tea-some of your stuff," she said. "I could use a cup myself. Want any?"

"Sure," Maria said.

She followed her mother into the kitchen and took two teacups out of the cabinet. "Who's Julie?" Maria asked.

"Kasey's daughter," Mrs. DeLuca replied. She filled a teakettle with water at the sink. "That's why she came over this evening. Tonight was my night to host my MWP group, remember? We had a good turnout."

MWP stood for Mothers Without Partners, a support group Maria's mother had joined after the divorce. So Dodson's being here really had nothing to do with Maria-probably.

Maria took a deep breath. "That's great!" she said with a way-too-big smile.

"Kasey stayed after the meeting and helped me clean up," Maria's mother said. She put the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner. "Then she hung around to keep me company while I waited up for you."

"I didn't mean to make you worry," Maria said as she sat down at the kitchen table.

Mrs. DeLuca sat down across from Maria and smiled. "All's well that ends well, right?" she said. "Just call next time."

"I will," Maria promised. And she would because she had no wish to come home ever again and find the sheriff in her house.

Maybe I'm just being paranoid, she thought. But the whole story about Sheriff Dodson just happening to hang around tonight seems a little too convenient. What if she's part of Clean Slate and just using Mom to keep an eye on me?

Yeah, Maria was being paranoid.

But sometimes a healthy dose of paranoia could keep you alive.

"You're not going to believe this," Max said as Michael pulled himself into Max's bedroom through the window.

"Sounds big," Michael said, brushing off the front of his black T-shirt.

"It's huge," Max responded, his blue eyes wide. "Liz and Adam broke into DuPris's office."

Michael's face went slack. "They did what?" he demanded. "Do they have a death wish or something?"

"That's not even half of it," Max said, plopping down on the edge of his bed. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him. He looked up at Michael, hoping he wasn't going to lose it when he heard the news.

"What is it?" Michael asked.

"They found a picture of Valenti in his office at the compound," Max said. He took a deep breath.

"And?" Michael prompted.

"And he was shaking hands with Alex's dad."

Michael just looked at Max for a moment. Then he slowly lowered himself onto the desk chair. "The Major is Clean Slate."

It was a statement, not a question, but Max felt the need to answer it, anyway.

"We don't know that for sure," he said. "It could mean nothing."

"But it could mean something," Michael said, his gray eyes flashing. "If he's Clean Slate, he's already out for our blood, and if he finds out we're responsible for Alex's disappearance…"

Max's stomach twisted uncomfortably, and he found himself staring at the carpet. We're responsible. There should have been some way to tell the difference between Alex and DuPris while the wormhole was open. Even though Alex had been molecularly altered to resemble DuPris, Max still should have been able to tell them apart somehow-

"It was an accident," Michael said. "I can feel you getting your boxers in a bunch over there. Stop it, Max. How many times do we have to tell you it wasn't your fault? You were tricked. We all were. I was just thinking that any Clean Slate agent would assume it was us."

Max nodded, but he wasn't totally convinced. He knew he was going to feel guilty until Alex was back where he belonged. On earth.

"So… what do we do about the Major?" Max asked, changing the subject.

"Avoid him like the plague?" Michael suggested.

"There's still a possibility that he has nothing to do with anything," Max said. "I need more proof than a photo Liz found in DuPris's file cabinet. It's not like the Astral Projector ever printed a photo that wasn't doctored."

"Good point," Michael said. "We'll just keep an eye on him… from afar."

"And act cool if we run into him," Max added.

"Maybe you can act cool," Michael said, smiling. "But you're never going to be cool, geek."

"Dork," Max replied.

"I don't have to take this abuse," Michael said, pushing himself out of his chair. "I'm outta here."

"So soon?"

"Yeah," Michael said. He shook his new keys with a grin. "I want to go kick back at Ray's place, now that it's my place. Jealous?"

Max rolled his eyes. "Insanely," he answered. "Later."

"Peace out," Michael joked, climbing through the window.

When he was gone, Max lay back in bed and decided to distract himself with some mindless TV. He started surfing channels and stopped on a cooking show, but the combinations of ingredients didn't appeal to him. Humans just never mixed sweets and spicy foods for some reason. Like a hamburger covered in applesauce. Mmm.

The collective consciousness agreed with him. A ripple of approving images entered the back of Max's mind. Yes, they concurred. They loved fried meat and tangy fruit together. One of the beings gave Max a taste of a favorite dish, and he could feel the juices running down his throat. Awesome.

Then he realized he hadn't tried to connect to the consciousness at all.

Was it going to be like this for the rest of his life? The idea that the collective consciousness would always be peering over his metaphoric shoulder gave Max the creeps. Will the connection keep getting stronger? Max wondered. Even when I'm not trying to connect?

He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Maybe he should cut back on the amount of time he spent willingly making a full connection to the consciousness. Maybe that would stop or slow down the automatic linking.

But if I do that, Max thought, then how can I keep tabs on how Alex is doing? I've got to keep everybody calm about Alex.

Max closed his eyes. That's what he should be doing right now-checking up on Alex. No matter how it affected Max, making sure Alex was safe was his number-one priority.

With a deep breath Max opened himself up to the full force of the collective consciousness and sank into the ocean of interconnected auras. Like he was floating in a warm bath, Max felt buoyed up by the network of souls. Then he became absorbed by them, one among the multitudes.

Alex? he sent out, along with an image of his redheaded friend laughing at one of his own jokes. How's Alex?

Most of the responses Max received in return were positive-friendly replies, from beings who had begun to adjust to Alex living among them.

Then Max bumped into an aura he recognized.

It was Alex himself. And he was terrified out of his mind.

Max received an image from Alex of pure fear, of shadowy threatening presences, of misery and loneliness. There was no place for Alex to relax or rest. He was constantly on the run. Running for his life.

What is it? Max sent out frantically. Alex, what's wrong? What are you running from?

But before Alex could reply, another being took his place-an unfriendly entity who blasted Max with images of fire and destruction. Max recoiled… and lost track of Alex in the whirlwind of auras.

He thrust himself into the storm, struggling to hold on to Alex's signature energy, but to no avail. The angry being had blocked Alex from further communication.

How can I get him home if you won't even let me talk to him? We want the same thing-we both want Alex back on earth! He knew he wasn't getting his message across. His reasoning was too hard to express in images.

Max received no response, so he decided to shout directly to Alex.

Alex, he sent, Alex, if you can hear me, we're trying to bring you back! We all miss you, and we want you to come home! I promise… I promise we will find a way to get you here where you belong!

Max disconnected from the full force of the collective consciousness and sat up on his bed, gasping for breath. What was going on? Where had all that anger come from?

It made Max sick to think of Alex out there, alone and scared. But all Max could do was hope that most of the consciousness was still trying to understand and that those beings would keep his friend safe.

Liz looked incredible today, Adam thought. He lay on the living-room floor and let his mind drift back to the scene in the Astral Projector office. Liz under the desk with him. Her soft, sweet-smelling body pressed up against his. Her lips so close, he could have kissed her…

With a groan Adam flipped over and buried his face in one of the flat beanbags. He wished it was time for his short sleep period because then he wouldn't be lost in thinking about Liz. Probably.

I wonder if she dreams about me, Adam thought. Right, like that was even possible. But still, maybe he should go dream walking and check out her dream orb. He'd give anything to see what Liz dreamed about.

No, Adam told himself. It would violate her privacy. And what right did he have thinking about her so much, anyway? She was with Max. They were boyfriend and girlfriend. Adam was nothing to her. Nothing special, anyhow.

And Max had been so great to him. They all had.

So Adam definitely shouldn't peek into Liz's dream orb.

Definitely.

But nothing was stopping him from dream walking elsewhere. Even when he'd been confined to the compound, dream walking had allowed him a little taste of freedom. He could experience the whole world in dreams.

And if he stopped by Liz's dream-just stopped by to look at it from the outside-who would that hurt?

Nobody.

Adam flipped over on his back and closed his eyes. He let a wave of calm creep up his body, starting with his toes. When the current of relaxation reached his head, Adam opened his eyes on the dream plane. He was surrounded by billions of glowing spheres, a chaotic field of bubbles stretching into the distance. Brilliant colors swirled on the surfaces of the spheres, and each gave off a pure note so rich, it barely translated as sound. Adam felt the music deeply more than just heard it-this was a music all the senses had to share.

Each bubble was attached to a dreamer. Adam whistled softly, concentrating on picturing Liz. Sure enough, she was asleep, and her dream sphere floated toward Adam's summons. He held the whistled note until Liz's sphere spun close enough for him to see inside.

What he saw sent a jolt through him. Liz was having a nightmare.

Something was chasing her through her house. She ran up the stairs, her eyes wide with terror, as she searched for someplace to hide. The walls contracted until they were as narrow as tunnels. A thick blue fog filled the stairwell, making it hard for Liz to see who was chasing her and making it even harder for her to escape.

Adam placed his open hands around the orb, willing the sphere to expand until the figures inside were life-size.

Liz was in a bedroom now, surrounded by the fog, backing up against the headboard of the bed. Out reached a pair of hands and grabbed Liz by the throat. She saw its face for the first time, and Adam saw it, too. The thing… the thing was Liz. Another Liz. With lips and eyes sewn shut with thick black thread.

Adam had seen enough. He charged inside her dream orb. He grabbed the creature, and instantly it turned to dust. Then he took Liz by the hand and switched the scene to someplace Liz would feel safe-the ground floor of the UFO museum.

"Get it away! Get it away!" Liz screamed.

"It's gone," Adam said soothingly. "Would you like to hear some music?"

Still shaken, Liz nodded. Adam pressed a button on the jukebox. The music that poured out was smooth and slow, with a high, beautiful melody.

"That's nice," Liz said. She began to sway back and forth. And then she smiled at him, dimpling her left cheek.

A strong pang of guilt coursed through Adam. Was this okay, him here with Liz? Max wouldn't care if they were just doing friendly stuff, right?

Yeah, Max definitely would have wanted Adam to take Liz out of that nightmare. Do something to take her mind off it. Like… like ask her to dance.

Adam held out his arms to her. "Would you-"

"Sure," Liz said. She smiled again, but her expression was different this time. It was less friendly and more… interesting.

Adam gulped as he stepped toward her, but she didn't seem nervous at all. Liz met his gaze, her brown eyes glowing with warmth. Then she was in his arms, his hands clasped at the small of her back. Her tender amber aura washed over his lemon yellow energy like the first streaks of a sunset.

He couldn't forget any of this moment. It was too precious. Adam took a second to memorize everything he was sensing. The supple feel of her body against his own. The heat of her hands on his shoulders. The soft brush of her hair against his cheek.

After all, if it wasn't a dream, he wouldn't have the chance to hold Liz like this. He might never have the opportunity again.

Not in the real world.

In the real world, they would always be just friends.