The Intruder Page 2

  He sat back up and scanned the floor. Weren’t prison cells supposed to come with a mouse or a spider? Something for the prisoner to slowly make friends with? My inmate rights are definitely being violated here, he thought. Call the warden.

  At least Max and Isabel were okay. He could focus on that. A while ago, he wasn’t sure how long – it was tough keeping track of time in this windowless hellhole – he’d felt a burst of overwhelming joy and relief from Isabel. That meant Isabel got out of the compound safely. And hopefully, that Max made the connection to the collective consciousness and lived.

  Michael heard a soft cliking sound and jerked his head toward the glass door just as Guard Number One swung it open.

  “You’re wanted in the lab,” the guard announced, his voice flat and expressionless.

  The lab. The words liquefied Michael’s guts. He didn’t know exactly what happened to a suspected alien in the lab. But it didn’t sound promising. He shoved himself to his feet. Even his bones felt soft and soggy, but he was determined not to let Bachelor Number One and Bachelor Number Two know that he was seriously freaking out. He swaggered over to the door nonchalantly.

  The guards made a Michael sandwich – one in from of him, one in back – and marched him across the huge warehouse of a room that contained the cells. The first guard punched a code into the little box next to a massive metal door, careful not to let Michael see the numbers. The doors slid open down the middle, and they walked down a long corridor, their feet pounding out a rhythm on the cement floor.

  “You guys know any of those marching chants?” Michael asked to distract himself. “You know, like, ‘I don’t know, but it’s been said, yadda, yadda, yadda.’ ’Cause that’s what we need right now.”

  Neither Hubba nor Bubba bothered to answer him. Big surprise.

  I don’t know, but it’s been said, compound guards all wet their bed. The words just popped into his mind, and he gave a snort of laughter. Alex is rubbing off on me, Michael thought. The more tense a situation got, the more stupid Alex’s jokes became.

  At least the chant kept him from screaming or puking. Still, his heart was practically ricocheting off his ribs with every beat.

  I don’t know, but I’ve been told, compound guards all … hmmm … all have breath that smells like mold?

  The first guard stopped in front of another metal door and punched in the code. It slid open and the odor of antiseptic, powder, plastic, and something unidentifiable, something chemical, filled Michael’s nose. Lab smell. The guards escorted Michael inside. There was a padded examination table in the far corner and a metal tray of instruments on the counter behind it.

  Hot bile rose up the back of his throat, and for one moment he was afraid he was going to do the Technicolor yawn right there. He swallowed hard.

  “Oh, good. Our guest of honor has arrived.” Michael turned toward the door, knowing he would see Sheriff Valenti. He met the sheriff’s gaze and held it, willing himself not to blink.

  “Should we get started?” a voice Michael didn’t recognize asked. The question ended his staring contest with the sheriff. They both turned toward the man in the white lab coat.

  “Yes, there’s a lot I want to cover this session,” Valenti answered.

  “Okay, go have a seat at that table,” the doctor told Michael.

  At least it wasn’t the padded examination table. It was just your basic cafeteria kind of table with a bench on either side. Michael walked over and sat down. Valenti slid onto the bench across from him.

  Out of his peripheral vision he caught the doctor’s hand moving in, and a second later Michael felt something cold and gooey on his forehead. He jerked back his head and found himself staring directly into the doctor’s face.

  Michael started, then laughed out loud at himself. Man, I am jittery, he thought.

  “I’m glad my face amuses you,” the doctor said. “I’m Dr. Doyle. Brian Doyle. I should have said that up front.”

  “Can we get on with it?” Valenti demanded.

  The lab rat doesn’t need to know names, right, Sheriff? Michael thought.

  Dr. Doyle stuck a tiny plastic suction cup over the gel he’d applied. Michael could see a wire running from the cup to a monitor. He wasn’t a science head like Max or Liz, but he knew they were going to look at his brain waves. At least he was pretty sure that was the deal.

  But who knows what kind of technology these Project Clean Slate guys have? he thought as the doctor attached more suction cups to his head. Maybe the doc and the sheriff are about to fry my brain to make sure I’m being a good little prisoner who would never think of causing any problem – because I can no longer think at all. Sort of like a lobotomy without the mess.

  “Done,” Dr. Doyle announced. He sat down next to Michael.

  “All right, the first thing I want you to show us is how you made yourself look like me,” Valenti instructed. “I was told that’s how you were able to enter the compound undetected.”

  I’m not that easy, Michael thought. The less the sheriff knew about him and his powers, the better.

  “Here’s how it worked. I stopped by the costume shop on North Main and picked up a latex mask. I got the last one of you. The counter guy told me you’re one of the most popular Halloween costumes this year. You beat out Frankenstein and most of the cast of Star Trek and –”

  “Enough,” Valenti snapped. He turned to the guards at the door. “One of you go get Adam.” Immediately one of the guards hurried out of the room.

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Dr. Doyle said quickly “We don’t know how two –”

  “The kid doesn’t want to talk. He wants to be a comedian,” Valenti interrupted. “So I’ll get the info another way.”

  Michael gathered that he was supposed to be scared of this Adam guy. Who was he? Some kind of torture expert or something?

  The big metal door slid open with a soft hiss, and a guy who looked a little younger than Michael entered, followed by the guard.

  This was Adam? This was the guy Valenti was hoping could get the truth out of Michael? He looked more like the kind of guy who’d always gotten his lunch money stolen – almost no muscles, I-spend-my-days-hunched-over-a-computer pale, light brown hair cut into dorky bangs, and wide pale green eyes. The kind of guy that might make certain girls go aww, but not much of an intimidator.

  Michael shot a glance at Valenti. What was going on here?

  “Hello, Adam.” Valenti smiled at the kid. “We have a visitor with us today. His name is Michael. I want you to play the game with Michael,” Valenti continued.

  Adam hurried over to Michael, and before Michael had a chance to react, Adam grabbed his hand. Instantly they were connected. A rush of images flashed through Michael’s brain. A younger Dr. Doyle sliding a little boy Adam into a big hollow tube for a CAT scan. A slightly older Adam in a glass cell playing checkers with a uniformed guard. A tray with silver instruments. A vial of blood. A pair of cowboy pajamas. An incubation pod. Adam breaking free of an incubation pod.

  Michael jerked his hand away and stared at Adam. He was one of them. No question. Hadn’t Ray said there was one pod he hadn’t been able to move to the cave? It must have been Adam’s. And the Project Clean Slate agents recovered it.

  “Michael, what did you see when Adam touched you?” Dr. Doyle asked. He pulled a little pad and a pen out of his lab coat pocket.

  “Holding hands with another guy doesn’t exactly make me see fireworks, if that’s what you mean,” Michael muttered.

  He was still trying to take this all in. Had Adam spent his whole life here in the compound? Had they actually made a little kid spend year after year underground?

  “Adam, what did you see?” Valenti asked, in a demented preschool teacher voice.

  All Michael had been thinking about was the images he got from Adam. But if Adam was one of them, that meant he had power, too. So during the connection, Adam bad been getting a little peek into Michael’s brain.

>   “I saw a man in a surgical mask,” Adam answered, his voice quiet and steady. “I saw a map of the desert. I saw him breaking out of a metal cocoon like mine,” Adam continued.

  He saw the pod. Now they know for sure I’m an alien, Michael thought. But it’s not like there was a whole lot of doubt about that. They didn’t exactly buy the Valenti Halloween mask story.

  “Anything else?” Valenti asked gently.

  “A girl. With long blond hair and blue eyes,” Adam said.

  “Tell us more about her,” Valenti coaxed.

  Of course, Michael thought, this game’s purpose is to find the other aliens in Roswell.

  “She was wearing a short skirt – green and black,” Adam answered.

  Isabel, Michael thought. Isabel in her cheerleading outfit. Thank God he hadn’t picked up her name … yet.

  3

  Isabel smoothed down her short green-and-black skirt. The next time she was going to get it right. On the “bray” of celebration she was supposed to lean down so on the “tion” Stacey Scheinin could jump on her back for the big end-of-cheer pose. Isabel could do that. She’d done it a hundred times before. Although none of those hundred times had been today. Today she was biting the big one.

  Yeah, and there’s no reason for it, right? Isabel asked herself. Just because your brother almost died yesterday. Oh, and because Michael is locked up in the compound.

  At least Isabel knew Michael was alive. She could feel his fear and anger so strongly, it was almost like he was standing next to her, whispering in her ear. Most of the time she just tuned out the emotions she got from Max and Michael, but now she wished she could feel them as powerfully as he was feeling them himself. She wanted to know everything Michael was going through. “Okay, I know that you all have places to go,” Stacey cried in her squeaky, I-suck-helium voice. “But no one’s leaving until we get this perfect. Are you listening, Isabel? I know you’re dying to get over to your boyfriend. I guess that’s what you’d call him.” Stacey shot a look over at Alex, who was sitting in the bleachers. “Even though he hardly deserves that title.”

  About half the girls broke into loud giggles, the girls Isabel called the Staceyettes. Their biggest ambition in life was to be just like Stacey, and that meant laughing at all the little jabs Stacey made at Isabel.

  The girl was loving the fact that Isabel was going out with Alex. Not that Alex was a geek. But before Alex, Isabel had gone out strictly with guys in the elite club, the guys that every girl in school wanted, the totally obvious choices. Alex was cute and smart, but not an obvious Isabel choice.

  Tish Okabe leaned close. “Are you okay?” she whispered. That was Tish. Always worrying about how everyone else was feeling.

  “Uh-huh. Fine,” Isabel answered. Instantly she felt a sharp burst of fear. It was coming from Michael. She concentrated on her feelings for him and tried to shoot him back a burst of … of love. That’s what it was. She’d always loved Michael. First as sort of a second big brother, someone who made her feel safe. Then as a teenage crush. Then as … what? As a friend? More than that. A brother? That didn’t feel quite –

  “You’re fine,” Tish said softly, pulling Isabel away from her thoughts. “That’s why you’re letting Stacey dis your man without counterdissing.”

  Oh. Yeah. She probably should slap Stacey down. Isabel had been letting her get away with way too much lately. “Yeah, it’s true. Alex is nothing like your boyfriends,” Isabel called to Stacey. “When he walks, his knuckles don’t quite drag the ground.”

  Not her best comeback, but she felt lucky she managed to get anything out at all. Only a weensy bit of her brain was on Stacey or practice or Alex. The rest was on Michael.

  “Ready, okay!” Stacey called. And Isabel launched into the cheer. For the next two minutes she needed to focus on getting her arms and legs in the right position and keeping her cheerleader smile on her face because she really, really did not want to have to do this cheer again.

  Okay, you’re doing fine. Just keep your head up, she coached herself. Smile. Now the shoulder shimmy Pivot left. Pivot right. Smile, smile, smile. Halfway through. You’re doing good. Now Tish does her walkover. Now Corrine. Now you. Perfect. Keep going. Okay, now move into position for the final pose. Bend down.

  A bolt of ragged-edged anger and hatred jabbed into Isabel. She stumbled just as Stacey jumped onto her back – and Stacey landed on her butt with a squeal. She shoved herself to her feet, her face pink with anger. “Okay, let’s do it again. Right away,” Stacey announced. “We’ll see if Isabel can do this without injuring me.”

  This must be what hell is like, Isabel thought. Having to do the same cheer over and over and over, smiling and smiling, knowing the whole time that someone you love is suffering.

  “I have to be at work in fifteen minutes,” Lucinda Baker told Stacey. “And my boss definitely won’t accept a note from my head cheerleader as an excuse.”

  “I have to go, too,” Tish chimed in.

  Thank you, Isabel thought. She took a moment to focus on shooting Michael another burst of emotion. She’d never consciously tried to send Max or Michael emotions before this. She hoped it was working. She wanted Michael to feel like she was right there in the compound with him.

  “Fine. Go,” Stacey cried. “But be back here at seven tomorrow morning. We’re not going to the Guffman game without having this cheer down,” she continued, her voice getting higher and higher until Isabel thought dogs were probably starting to howl all over town.

  Isabel spun around and rushed toward the locker room. “I just have to change,” she told Alex as she started past the bleachers.

  He reached out and snagged her hand. “I don’t want you to change.”

  Isabel tried to pull her hand away, but he held tight. “I know, I know, you’re going to tell me you like me just the way I am,” she said.

  “Nope. Although I do like you pretty much the way you are,” he added quickly “I don’t want you to change because I’ve never gotten to kiss you while you’re wearing the uniform.” He pulled her closer until she was standing between his knees.

  “Oh, it turns you on, huh?” she asked. She wanted to look over her shoulder and see if Stacey was watching, but Isabel didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

  “Big time,” he answered. He slid his hand up her leg. “Especially the green underpants. Or are they underpants? I mean, do you wear other underpants under them or what?” He slid his hand higher, slipping it under her skirt.

  “Some things just have to remain a mystery.” Isabel slapped Alex’s hand away, and he laughed.

  “Okay, okay, you’re right. It would be like knowing how a magician really gets the rabbit out of his hat. It’s more fun not knowing.” Alex pulled her down on the bleacher next to him.

  Oh, who cares if Stacey is watching, Isabel thought. As soon as she started kissing Alex she’d forget all about her. That was one of the best things about kissing him. It’s like the kiss was a minivacation from the world. She could really use that right now.

  Alex laced his hands through her hair, then brushed his mouth across hers. Sweet. Sometimes Alex’s kisses could just be so sweet.

  He slid his hands slowly down her back, then kissed her again, his tongue urging her lips apart. What emotion is Michael getting from me right now? Isabel thought suddenly. Can he tell I’m having some big make-out session while he’s –

  Alex pulled away “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Yeah.”

  Isabel nodded, then she stood up. “I’ll be right back,” she said, then she headed toward the locker room. That’s the first time kissing Alex didn’t make the rest of the world disappear, she thought.

  Liar, a tiny voice in the back of her head answered. Kissing Alex hasn’t been like that since you went into Michael’s dream and saw him with his arms around you.

  “I wish I was a … you know,” Maria told Liz. She snapped an order on the metal wheel and gave it a spin toward the kitchen.
“They don’t want cheese on that Mother Ship Burger,” she called to Start, the cook.

  “Actually, I don’t know,” Liz answered. “A what?”

  “A you know,” Maria repeated. She glanced around the Crashdown Café. There were only a few customers at the flying-saucer-shaped tables, and no one seemed to be paying any attention to her and Liz. But Maria still didn’t think it was a good idea to use the a word.

  Liz shook her head. “Can you act it out for me or something? Because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “A you know, like, you know, Isabel and Max and Michael,” Maria whispered.

  “Really?” Liz adjusted the scrunchie holding her long, dark hair away from her face. “Even after everything that’s happened? Earth hasn’t exactly been the friendliest place for them.”

  “It’s just that Isabel and Max can feel Michael all the time,” Maria explained. “They know a little bit of what he’s going through. They know …” She hesitated. It felt almost like it would be bad luck to finish the sentence. “They can feel inside them … that Michael’s still alive.”

  Maria was going psycho with worry. Michael was all she could think about. What was happening to him in the compound? What was Valenti doing to him?

  It’s not like Isabel would have the answers to those questions. But at least she’d know if Michael was experiencing pain, if he was scared or angry. At least Isabel still had some connection to Michael. Maria had nothing. Just an aching empty place inside her chest that felt like it got bigger with every second Michael was away from her.

  “He’s not going to die. Think about it. He’s way too valuable to Sheriff Valenti alive. For one thing, Michael has information Valenti wants. He would never kill him until he found the other … you knows.” Liz took a deep breath, then continued. “And we’re going to get him out of there before that happens.”

  Maria nodded. “I know. I know. I still just wish –”

  The opening bars of the Close Encounters theme interrupted her. She glanced toward the door to see who was coming in. Alex. Good. Maybe Alex could get them onto another subject.