holding her hand and rubbing it in small circles with her thumb.
«Someone from Mr. Evans's firm,' Kyle replied. «Nothing important. Any change?»
«No,' Maria replied hopelessly. «And I still haven't been
able to get in touch with Max or Liz. Meanwhile, Michael's still off God knows where. Have you tried your dad?»
«He's pulled another one of his disappearing acts,' Kyle said, wondering once again where his father was spending his time lately. «I've hardly seen him at all this week.»
«What is it with the parents in this town?» Maria asked, frustrated. «They're never around when you need them.»
Kyle nodded in agreement.
«What do we do now?» she asked.
«Wait,' he replied, as his mind spun with possible plans of action but nothing came.
«How I long for the day when waiting isn't our only plan of inaction.»
Kyle bristled from Maria's comment. He knew she meant nothing by it, but it still bothered him that he didn't know what to do. He couldn't think clearly. His mind was full of confusing, unclear images. Not now, he thought. This is not the time for a flash.
His fingers tapped against his leg for the first time that morning. This time, however, Kyle felt them pressing into his flesh and actually took notice of the action.
Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap.
«I think I'm going to meditate for a while.» He left the room, hoping to calm his mind before things got out of hand. They certainly didn't need two crises to deal with.
«Do you really think this is the right time to voluntarily make yourself unconscious?» Maria asked, following him into the living room. «You know, considering.»
«I won't be unconscious,' he explained, hoping he didn't sound condescending to the unenlightened. «Meditation allows me to perform a conscious exploration of my
mind. It will give me the opportunity to organize my thoughts and purge any images that do not belong.» Kyle often felt that people had a tendency to listen to him explain his beliefs as if they were humoring him because what he was saying was a joke somehow-especially his father. But he thought Maria of all people would understand. «Would you like to join me?»
«Thanks, but I like my cluttered mind the way it is,' she said, although at the same time she took a few drops of her calming cedar oil.
Kyle took a seat on the floor, placing his body in the lotus position, with his legs crossed and folded over each other. He then closed his eyes and began his breathing exercises, trying to establish a sense of inner peace.
«Great, Michael's going to come back to find two unconscious bodies,' Maria said to herself as she went back to Isabel's room.
Walking up to the bed to check on her friend, Marias foot kicked something on the floor. Bending to retrieve the item, she found a copy of their yearbook lying there, closed. Maria picked it up, flipping through the pages and settling on the familiar photo of herself. Her face scrunched up as she once again regretted the awful picture. What was I thinking? she thought. Talk about a bad hair day.
Shutting the book so she no longer had to look at the offending picture, she placed it on Isabel's desk on top of another book that had been lying out. With' nothing else to do, Maria sat by Isabel's side once again, holding her friend's hand and wondering what could be going on.
Isabel was banging against the door, frantically trying to break out of the room as if freedom from its confines would free her from Kyle's mind. Through the banging, she thought she had heard something on the other side. Putting her ear to the door, she listened and was able to make out faint voices, arguing. She assumed that it was just echoes of Tess and Alex.
The memory of his murder sent chills through her.
She almost yelled out for help before realizing how pointless that would have been since no one was really outside the door. Truth be told, she wasn't actually inside the room either, and it concerned her that her body was across town without a conscious mind inside. Will I ever be able to get back?
The voices disappeared, and Isabel gave up on the door entirely.
«Okay, Kyle.» She turned back to the little boy. «Let's be proactive. You want me to stay here. Tell me why.»
The six-year-old version of Kyle was throwing a baseball into the air and catching it as it came back down. «I don't know,' he said as the ball went up into the air.
«Are you afraid of something?» She sat beside him on the bed, taking random guesses to try to figure out the problem.
The ball continued, up and down.
«Is it Tess?» she carefully pushed. «Are you afraid of Tess?»
The ball continued its repetitive journey.
«Is it someone else?» She tried a new track, with frustration creeping into her voice. «Did someone hurt you?»
Kyle missed the ball as it came down. It rolled across
the floor and under his dresser. The boy looked like he was about to tear up.
«I'll get it,' Isabel offered. «Don't cry. It's just under the-'
«Big boys don't cry,' he said firmly.
Hearing a response, she ignored the ball and focused on the boy. «And you're a big boy?»
«Yes,' he said.
«But sometimes big boys do cry,' she said. «If something really hurts-'
«No.»
«Why do you say that?»
«Big boys don't cry.»
«Okay, fine.» Isabel gave up on trying to change his mind, and bent to the floor to get the ball. Reaching under the dresser, she slid her arm from left to right, but couldn't find it. The piece of furniture was small enough that she was able to touch the back wall, but she found nothing. The ball was gone. But, then again, it was never really there in the first place.
She thought about telling him that the ball was missing, but figured he probably knew, since this was his world and she was just a guest in it.
Giving up, she resumed her place beside little Kyle on the bed. «So are we going to sit here forever, or do you have something else in mind?»
Wordlessly, the boy finally got off the bed. Taking deliberate steps, he opened the bedroom door, waiting for her to follow.
Intrigued, she got up and went for the door. «So are you the ghost of Christmas past, present, or future?»
Little Kyle ignored her comment as they walked through the Valenti home and right into the police station. This time, however, it was empty. Making their way through a maze of twisting corridors that didn't exist in the real Roswell Police Station, Isabel followed the child right up to the sheriffs door.
He stopped there, waiting for her.
Assuming that it was her job to open the door, Isabel stepped up to turn the knob. «It's locked,' she said after meeting resistance. Listening at the door, she had expected to hear someone crying again, but she heard nothing. «What is it, Kyle? What are you trying to tell me?»
«You're not supposed to go in there,' he replied.
«Then why are we here?» She was trying to figure out this puzzle, but their trip was not a great example of linear thought. «What am I supposed to see?»
The world shifted around her as the fluorescents melted into the bright light of the sun, and the walls and floor fell away. They were back in the desert, at the same spot where Isabel had first entered into Kyle's nightmare. Little Kyle dropped to the ground and started digging.
The vulture or buzzard or whatever it was circled overhead while it either chased or was being chased by another one of its kind.
