«What?» Maria said, her expression defensive.
«The Romeo and Juliet thing. I was just thinking the exact same thing while I walked over here.» Maria raised an eyebrow. «Hmmm. Maybe we're sharing brain waves or something.» «Or something,' Michael said. Then he leaned in closer and kissed her.
Liz was nervous. What she had seen in her future flash about Isabel had been horrific. Both, times. And now they were about to try for the vision a third time. This one should be the charm, she thought mirthlessly. She hoped her mind would show her something other than the alien autopsy no, alien vivisection that she had witnessed before. She hoped that whatever they decided to do next would alter that obscene future.
They all gathered on the side of the Microbus opposite the Orbit Drive-In. Isabel stepped forward and put her hand out. Liz saw that she was trembling slightly. «You ready?» Isabel asked.
«All set to enter the Dead Zone like Anthony Michael Hall,' Liz said, taking a deep breath. She reached out and touched Isabel's hand. Closing her eyes, she concentrated and she was Isabel again, the restraining straps and pain holding her firmly onto a table. Above her were agonizingly bright klieg lights outfitted with reflective metallic hoods. After her eyes adjusted to the glare, she could see herself/Isabel reflected in them, could see the blood on her head. It was easily visible since most of her hair was gone.
Electrodes and wires were attached to her skull, and she could feel them invading other parts of her body.
The white room was filled with busy medical personnel, and in the galleries elevated above the room she could see men in dark suits watching from behind safety glass.
She saw one woman among the observers, and noticed that several video cameras were trained down upon her as well.
A piercing whine filled her ears as a masked doctor peered down at her. He wore clear goggles, and his slatecolored eyes held no pity.
Struggling, she saw that as in her previous visions her stomach was covered with a protective medical drape, which was stained crimson with blood. The technicians were removing her organs and putting them in metal pans, weighing them as she watched in silent horror.
The whine became louder and louder, and the masked doctor moved in closer. And suddenly, the pain became too great to be borne. Liz tried to scream, tried to get away, but it was no use.
Blood sprayed across her vision in a scarlet haze as the excruciating pain washed over her in relentless waves, tsunamis of pure agony.
And then, a cool hand pulled her away, into darkness.
Away from the pain and the blood and the death. Liz looked up weakly and saw who had saved her. «Alex?» But her dead friend's familiar smiling face wasn't there anymore if it had ever been there at all. The face belonged instead to Max, who was crouching over her. Liz abruptly realized that she was on the ground behind the Orbit Drive-ln in Nebraska, her leg twisted awkwardly beneath her.
«M'okay, Max,' she said, still woozy. She looked around at the others. Kyle was steadying Isabel, who looked almost as distressed as Liz felt.
«I take it the vision didn't get any better this time?» Max asked as he helped Liz up to a sitting position.
The sequels are always worse than the originals, aren't they? Liz thought absurdly. She shook her head. «No. Still horrible. Nothing new.» She decided not to mention having seen Alex, since she wasn't certain that she actually had.
«So, splitting up isn't going to work?» Isabel said, her tone lifeless.
«We don't know that,' Liz said. «We haven't split up yet.
We've all been together every time I've had this vision.
Maybe if we split up, we'll cut off this particular lane into the future.» She didn't want to bring up the converse point, though she couldn't help thinking it. Or splitting up might be the action that leads you straight into the lair of the Big Bad Wolves.
Isabel moved quickly in front of the van, and they all heard her retching. They stood in silence until she returned a couple of minutes later. Kyle handed her some of the napkins he had stuffed into his pocket.
Liz didn't know whether to look to Max for the decision, or to Isabel. Neither, apparently, did anyone else.
Isabel finally spoke, breaking the uncomfortable quiet.
«We've been letting our fear of the Special Unit control our lives for too long. It's time we made some decisions of our own. I'm going to Boston. And I'm not going to let them capture me or… they aren't going to get that chance.» Liz admired Isabel for the brave front she was putting up. But she suspected that her friend might be even more sick and frightened had she seen for herself the gruesome details of Liz's vision.
3. Los Angeles.
Ava opened her eyes, but found she was having trouble focusing them. Her eyelids felt as heavy as garage doors. Drugs, she realized, her thoughts muzzy. It was as though her brain had been removed from her skull and then had been wrapped up in a warm, moist blanket. They've drugged me up. Again. Gradually, over a period that might have been minutes or years, her vision began to clear, though her thoughts remained scattered, her powers of concentration all but nonexistent. Sensation began returning to her body, which she discovered was lying supine on a hard table of some sort. She saw that people surrounded her, many of them dressed in white smocks, caps, and surgical masks. Doctors? Am I sick? Then she noticed the two men who stood watching her from one of the room's sterile white corners: a scar-faced, fiftyish man in a black suit, and a somewhat younger, identically dressed man who stood impassively at the scarred man's side. From their bearing, Ava sized them both up as military. She was pretty sure she'd seen them before somewhere, though she couldn't concentrate sufficiently to recall exactly where. All she knew was that the scarred man looked as tough as the proverbial nails and that the other one was downright frightening, his eyes as sharp as those of some predatory bird. His piercing gaze made her feel like a morsel about to be eaten. Suddenly she remembered where she'd seen them before: They'd been on the plane that had taken her from New York to Los Angeles, along with Rath and Lonnie. Where are Rath and Lonnie? With every last shred of concentration she could muster, she reached outward with her mind, desperate for an answer to that question. «I still say this is damned dangerous, Viceroy,' Dale Bartolli said quietly, his eyes as wary and alert as a shrike's as he studied the semiconscious young woman who lay strapped to the gurney. The medical personnel were checking the Harding girl's vital signs as they administered the counteragent to the drug that had kept her immobile since her recapture at Los Angeles International. Matthew Margolin, the special agent code-named «Viceroy,' nodded. He stroked one of the numerous scars that ran along the side of his chin like cracks in a welltraveled stretch of highway. Margolin had grown tired of debating. With two more of these superpowered alien kids presently on the loose somewhere in Southern California, the stakes were far too high for him to tolerate any insubordination. «I know it's dangerous, Dale. But it's the only decision possible if we want to get our hands on Michael Guerin and Isabel Evans again.» Especially since they seem to have the ability to be in two places at once. Bartolli nodded, evidently picking up on Margolin's warning tone. «Maybe you're right. Just as long as we don't let her come around enough so she can use her Jedi mind tricks to force us to let her go. Or make us kill each other.» Margolin met Bartolli's hawklike gaze and held it unflinchingly. «It's a calculated risk, but a necessary one. And I've taken thorough precautions.» He motioned toward one of the masked and smocked technicians, who approached carrying what appeared to be a large wad of aluminum foil, which she handed to Margolin before returning to her other duties. The clump of fine metal mesh was unexpectedly heavy in Margolin's hand. Very carefully, he separated it into two pieces and handed one to Bartolli. «Tinfoil,' Bartolli said, staring at the crumpled metal wad in his hand. «Tinfoil is supposed to stop this alien from melting our brains, Chief?» Margolin chuckled, realizing how this must look to his second-in-
