took longer than a day to fall, he reminded himself.
As he surveyed the damage to the front windshield, he
wondered if the fall took more or less than fifteen years.
Pieces of windshield were scattered on the road and
desert around them in a radius of two or three dozen
yards. The bits of glass were very small. The force must
have been tremendous. He wondered how big the hole in
the ground was that Isabel had filled in.
Max waited until three cars passed them and they were
alone on the road. Raising his hand, he collected the hun-
dreds of bits of broken glass and used his powers to lift
them in the air. Bringing them together, he fused them
into the windshield and reset the glass onto the van.
When he was finished he could see the problem: a hole
about two feet around in the center of the windshield.
"Some of the glass must have been pulverized," Max said.
Liz looked embarrassed.
Maria looked amazed. "Remind me not to make you
mad, Parker."
"There's plenty of sand around, Max," Liz said. Max
nodded and reached out with his powers to pick up a
small pile of sand. It was simple to heat it to the right tem-
perature and make it into a good approximation of the
windshield glass. Then he fused the new piece into the
hole. When he was finished, he smoothed over the whole
piece of glass and saw that it would do.
"Not a bad job, Your Highness," Michael said.
"Michael—," Max started.
"Just a joke, Maxwell," Michael said, smiling. "It's good
to see what you can do when you really let loose with your
powers."
* * *
Max found himself smiling back. "I also do light house-
keeping."
His smile faded when he saw Liz's face.
"Don't worry, we have a long time to figure something
out," he said. "And you can tell us how we're doing. You will
probably have a number of flashes between now and ..."
Liz gave him a thin smile, and Max saw that she was
still afraid. And not just about what will happen in fifteen
years, he thought. Her vision had cost Liz something, he
knew. The prospect of more like it was not comforting to
her.
Another price Liz is paying for being with me, Max thought.
Back in the van, Max drove through the morning, head-
ing north. For a moment, he was tempted to get on Inter-
state 25—it was the quickest route. And though there was
no rush on this trip to nowhere special, he wanted to put
as many miles as he could between the group and Roswell
as quickly as possible. Then he would relax a bit.
But Max's instincts told him to stay away from major
roads, at least for now. They might be watched. They had
found that out when Kyle's father had tried to get them out
of the state, west to Arizona. Sheriff Valenti hadn't liked
what he had heard on the police band, and the group had
had to change direction and go north.
Since then, Max had been basically traveling in almost a
straight line up from Roswell, which was in the southern
part of New Mexico. This route allowed him to steer clear of
Santa Fe, which was too large a city, and Los Alamos, where
the first atomic bomb was built. It was still a center for
nuclear research, with just too much government and mili-
tary activity for him. He would feel better when they reached
* * *
Colorado, which would be sometime that afternoon if they
continued at the same speed. He made a mental note to start
traveling northwest when they hit Colorado. If he traveled
diagonally across Colorado, he would pass well below
Pueblo and the Air Force Academy.
He looked over at Liz, who was watching the road
speed by. She looked alert, and Max guessed it would be a
while before she slept again.
Maybe we can all relax a little when we reach Colorado,
Max thought. It was possible, but not likely, he realized.
* * *
It won't be long now, Maria thought as she watched the
road ahead. She could see mountains out her window in
the distance. For years she had been afraid that this would
never happen, that she would never leave Roswell, never
leave New Mexico.
Maria remembered her school report in sixth grade.
New Mexico was one of the largest states in the country
(fourth or fifth, she couldn't remember which). But it only
had one and a half million people—and over half of those
lived in the three major cities, of which Roswell was defi-
nitely not one.
And they're about to lose the six of us, she thought. She
shot a glance a Michael. They should have been friendlier to
illegal aliens.
Michael was sitting in silence, like the rest of them.
What drove her crazy was that he seemed almost relaxed,
even after that incident with Liz.
Everyone else was on edge. Max seemed particularly
tense, with every muscle on his wiry frame taut. And still,
* * *
somehow he managed to give the impression of brooding
even as he drove.
When Michael saw her looking at him, he actually
grinned back at her. He was taller than Max, and more
thickly built. Now his comfortable frame was sprawled on
the seat. Something was definitely going on with him.
Maria knew the other—more normal—members of the
group were waiting for the same thing she was. In the dis-
tance, she saw the sign. In a few seconds, she could read
it: YOU ARE LEAVING NEW MEXICO, LAND OF
ENCHANTMENT.
She waited for the exact moment that the van crossed
the dividing line.
Then it was over and she saw another sign, which said
WELCOME TO COLORADO.
All these years, all that worry of being trapped in
Roswell and getting out was as simple as climbing into a
van and driving for a few hours.
Colorado wasn't New York. In fact, it looked pretty
much like the rocky desert they just left. Still, being there
felt good just the same. Maria could tell the others felt like
she did. The tension in the car went down a couple of
'notches as soon as they crossed the border. Maybe I'll miss
it someday, Maria thought, but not any time soon.
Maria thought about her mother and felt a pang of
regret. They hadn't even had a proper good-bye. Well, there
will be time far that one day, she thought.
Except for her mom, most of what she liked about
home was in the van with her: her best friend, Liz, and
then there was Space Boy. What were they to each other
now? Was there even a name for it?
* * *
She shot Michael another glance, allowing herself to
* * *
think about what might happen to him. What would hap-
pen to him if Liz's premonition came true? Whatever he
was to her, she couldn't stand the thought of him dying.
"Maybe you don't have to fight," Maria found herself
saying out loud.
"What?" Michael said.
"If Liz's dream comes true. Maybe you don't have to
fight these aliens. Maybe you can just surrender or some-
thing," Maria said, noticing that all eyes in the van except
for Max's were suddenly on her.
Michael shook his head. "No way, the other aliens
would make fun of us," he said.
Annoyed, Maria said, "This is serious!"
"Yes," Michael replied. "And these people, or whatever
they are, are very serious. Our only chance will be to beat
them. If it comes to a fight, we go to the mattresses," he
said with an air of finality.
Maria was no longer annoyed. Now was angry. "That is
such macho crap. What does that even mean?" she shouted.
"It means that when it starts to go down on the street,
we don't leave until it's finished," Michael said.
"What does that have to do with mattresses? And I've
heard it before. Is it from The Guy Book of Stupid Phrases or
something?"
"It's from The Godfather" Max, Michael, and Kyle said in
unison.
Maria shook her head. "Do all guys see themselves liv-
ing out The Godfather?" she said.
"Yes," said the three guys in the car.
Maria shook her head again.
"Look," Michael explained with forced patience. "All
* * *
guys see themselves as one of the Corleone brothers:
Michael, the quiet but brilliant leader of the family, or
Sonny, the hotheaded muscle."
"Max, you don't buy this, do you?" Maria said, looking
for a ray of sanity. "You don't think of yourself as Michael?"
"Well, I am . . . was King, after all," he said.
"I guess that would make you Sonny?" Maria said to
Michael.
"If the shoe fits," Michael said.
Rolling her eyes, Maria turned to Kyle. "What about you,
Mister Buddha? Tell me you don't think of yourself as ...
who?"
Kyle's face took on a serious expression. "It's true that
Buddhist philosophy gives me a sense of peace that makes
the Mafia metaphor a bad fit. On the other hand, it allows
me to take a larger view of important issues, making me—
if possible—even more like Michael," he concluded with a
satisfied grin.
They are all crazy, Maria thought. Then she remembered
something about those movies. "Wait, there was another
brother, Free . . . Frey . . . ," she said.
"Fredo," Michael said immediately. "Yeah, no guy sees
himself as Fredo. He was the cowardly, loser brother. Plus,
he betrayed Michael."
"Well, I know plenty of Fredos. I've dated many of
them," Maria said sourly, shooting Michael a look.
"Well, no guy sees himself as Fredo, ever," Michael
said.
"In fact," Max added, "the more like Fredo a guy is, the
less likely he is to see it."
"You are twisted—sick and twisted," Maria said to
* * *
Michael. She looked at Max, then at Kyle. "And not just
you, the whole gender."
"You asked," Michael said, "We're just providing
information."
Maria grunted and looked at Liz for support. Her best
friend had been completely silent since she'd told them
about her premonition. To Maria's surprise, Liz was watch-
ing the exchange with a smile on her face.
"I'm glad you find this amusing," Maria said.
The frustration on Maria's face only made Liz smile
wider. That made Maria smile herself.
Maria tossed her head back into her seat. "Impossible,
all of you."
Liz actually laughed, as Michael looked on with satis-
faction.
Well, Space Boy might be driving me completely crazy, but
at least he's good for a laugh, Maria thought.
Another thought quickly pushed that one out of the
way. She barely remembered The Godfather, just a few
scenes and images. One of them was terrible: Sonny met
up with a bunch of guys with machine guns at a tollbooth.
There was a lot of blood, and that was the end for
Sonny.
She took a look at Michael and wondered what she was
in for with him.
Kyle heard his stomach growl. With all the excitement of
leaving Roswell, and then Liz's dream, he had not thought
much about food.
"I could go for a Snapple," he heard Michael say.
"Where's the next town, Liz?" Max asked.
* * *
Liz took a minute to wrestle with a beat-up road atlas she
had found somewhere in the van. The oversize book was
coming apart, but Liz located the right map and said, "I
don't think this road is on the map, it's too small," Liz said.
Kyle scanned the two-lane road. It was a little less des-
olate than the rocky desert that seemed to make up most
of New Mexico. Southern Colorado was still a rocky
desert, but it was one with more scrub and even a few
trees. And the hills in the distance were a promising green.
"There has to be a town eventually," Kyle said, though
they hadn't passed one for miles. And he could not see one
up ahead on the twisting road that they were traveling.
Suddenly, there was a snap from somewhere in the front,
and the van shuddered. Immediately, it began to slow down.
now, and losing speed quickly. He guided it to the road's
shoulder—though shoulder was a kind term for the dusty
earth next to the road.
A moment later they had come to a stop.
"Out of gas, Maxwell?" Michael asked.
"Not according to the gauge," Max said. "We should
have over a quarter of a tank."
"I think something went under the hood," Kyle said. "I
heard a pop."
Max nodded and said, "I'll take care of it," as he got out
of the van.
"I'm going to stretch my legs," Maria said.
Michael followed her out of the car, and then Kyle did
himself. He turned back to see Isabel coming. He instinc-
tively reached out a hand to take her arm and help her out.
She tensed at his touch, and Kyle was immediately self-
* * *
conscious. He realized that he could not remember Isabel
speaking for hours since they had left.
A look at her face told him why. Isabel was always so
controlled; it was strange to see her look . . . fragile. Her
eyes were red—not from crying, Kyle knew, but from
keeping herself from doing it.
Kyle hadn't given up nearly as much as she had. In fact,
had he given up anything? A job in the local garage, where
his boss had laughed in his face when Kyle had suggested
that he might eventually become a partner. Kyle hadn't
even been a full mechanic. He was just an assistant.
Just three years ago, he had been starting linebacker-
running back at Roswell High and had Liz Parker as his
girlfriend. He had been student athlete of the month, he
remembered, and that had seemed very important to him
at the time. It was during that month that things had
started to go wrong between him and Liz.
Ultimately, he knew that he hadn't really loved Liz—
not like Max did. Still, at the time, he couldn't imagine
wanting anyone more. What had happened in the years
since then? Well, a lot of strange things tied into the Big
Alien Secret. But none of that really had anything to do
with his fate later.
He was a good football player—one of the most tal-
ented on the team. The coach had given him both offen-
sive and defensive positions to keep him on the field
more. He had led his division in sacks two years in a row,
but it had been a small division. And in the end, no one
was beating down his door to give him a scholarship. He
was just not tall enough for college ball.
He had also been on the basketball team and the base-
* * *
ball team. And he was good at each game, for Roswell. Yet,
none of those sports would give him any kind of future, he
knew. When the opportunity came to leave Roswell, he
had jumped at it. He couldn't face spending the rest of his
life in the garage. And he didn't belong in the sheriff's
office like his dad and his grandfather did, he knew.
So he was in an ancient Volkswagen van with his
friends in the middle of nowhere.
And this was the best prospect I had, he thought, with a
smile. Back when he was still on the team and still cared
about football, he'd thought he could never be closer to
anyone than he was to the guys on the team.
A lot had changed since then. Taking a glance at his
friends, he decided that this wasn't such a bad deal after all.
By now, Max had the hood of the van opened and was
looking inside.
Michael looked up and down the road to confirm that
there were no cars approaching and said, "All clear, let her rip."
Max nodded and raised his hand, which was now
glowing with green energy. He put his hand on the engine,
concentrating hard for a few seconds. "Try it," he said to
Liz, who was in the driver's seat now.
She turned the key; the engine clicked, but refused to
start. Max was immediately by her side. "Did you give it
gas?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Let me try," he said as Liz moved over.
Max turned the key. Still nothing but a click.