The Vanished

'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.