Loose ends

5.

"So," Alex said, flagrantly trying to take Liz's mind off her nerve-racking brush with Joe Morton, "there's just one thing about this whole alien royalty bit I don't understand. If Max is Luke Skywalker, Michael is Han Solo, and Isabel is Princess Leia, what does that make the rest of us?"Hmm, I can't speak for myself," Maria said, "but I always thought there was something very C-3PO about you."Thanks a lot!" Alex replied in mock indignation. He balanced on the back of a wooden bench outside the Visitors Center, his tennis shoes resting on the timbered seat of the bench next to Liz and Maria.

"Hey, don't complain," Maria warned. "I could've said Chewbacca. Or Jar Jar Binks." She glanced at Liz, playfully punching her preoccupied best friend in the shoulder. "What do you think, Liz? Is Alex more of a 'droid or a Wookiee?"Liz mustered a feeble smile at her friends' lighthearted banter. She knew they were both working overtime to raise her spirits, and she didn't want to disappoint them, but she couldn't help it; she still felt like an emotional basket case.

Her nerves were shot, and she jumped at every unexpected noise or movement. Her eyes restlessly scanned the surrounding scenery, half-expecting to see Joe Morton, gun in hand, reappear without warning. I've never felt this scared before, she thought, not even when tfie FBI or the Skins were chasing us.

Granted, there was nothing overtly threatening about their present location. The three teenagers, all one hundred percent human, sat outside the Cavems's bustling Visitors Center. The blazing sun, burning brightly overhead, baked the packed parking lots and arid desert terrain around them, keeping the temperature in the upper nineties, even in the shade. Spiny cacti and flowering red agave and ocotillo bushes sprouted stubbornly from the dusty brown soil surrounding the low, one-story Visitors Center. A nearby wooden kiosk displayed a variety of posted notices regarding park safety and regulations. None of the notices, Liz guessed, said anything about how to cope with fearsome, trigger-happy monsters from your past.

She watched a vulture circle slowly in the cloudless blue sky stretching over the desert, the grim harbinger of death doing little to dispel the disturbing memory of her own excruciating brush with mortality, lying wounded and bleeding on the scuffed tile floor of the Crashdown. Nor did the scorching sun drive away the numbing chill that seemed to have settled into her flesh and bones for good. The rocky Guadalupe Mountains loomed on the horizon, harsh and forbidding, like her life now seemed to be.

"How're you holding up, kid?" Maria asked sympathetically, abandoning her and Alex's happy act.

"I don't know," Liz confessed, grateful for a shoulder to cry on. "I can't stop thinking about it. The shooting at the Crashdown, I mean." Her yellow, formerly green, sweater was crumpled into a ball on the seat of the bench, but she was still overdressed for the torrid heat of the New Mexican summer. The Visitors Center, only a few yards away, was air-conditioned, but she just wasn't ready to deal with a building full of strangers right now. Despite the raging sun cooking the three teens to a crisp, Liz craved privacy and quiet more than she needed relief from the heat. "I know, I should be over it, after all this time. Max healed me right away, so I was really only hurt for a couple of minutes, but, ever since I saw Morton again, it's like it's happening all over again!"Perched atop the back of the bench, Alex kept looking over at the front door of the Center. Iiz knew he had to be wondering what was keeping Isabel. "That's perfectly understandable," he assured Liz. "I got beaten up on the way home from school once, and for weeks afterward, I couldn't walk that route without looking over my shoulder the whole time." He squinted into the glaring sunlight, keeping an eye out for Isabel and/or Morton. "I got over it, eventually," he told Liz. "So will you."I hope so, she thought despairingly. She hated feeling so weak and fragile. I've been captured by alien shapeshifters for heaven's sake, and lived to tell of it, so why has this left me such a wreck? She choked back a sob as she buried her face against Maria's shoulder. Tears streamed from her eyes.

Sighing in sympathy, Maria held onto Liz's shaking frame. "Oh, gee," she murmured, sounding choked up herself. Maria took a restorative sniff from a vial of rosemary oil, then waved the tiny glass bottle under her distraught friend's nose as well. "Look, Liz, if you want, I can drive you home in the Jetta right now. Alex can wait for our alien buddies, and hitch a ride home in the Jeep."Sure," he volunteered readily. "No problem. You can take off whenever you want." His gawky frame, seated above Liz and Maria, provided a bit of welcome shade for his friends. "Don't worry about me."Liz shook her head vehemently. The rosemary oil had done little to soothe her anguished spirit. "No, I can't. Not yet." She was in no shape to face her parents, not in the frazzled and fragile state she was in. They had no idea what had almost happened to her in the Crashdown that day, let alone everything she'd been through since. There's no way I could hide what I'm feeling from Mom and Dad, she realized.

"Okay," Maria said soothingly. "No rush. Just wanted you to know you've got the option, whenever you feel up to it."Thanks," Liz managed with difficulty. She knew she couldn't stay here, sitting on this bench forever, but the mere thought of doing anything else, taking any kind of decisive action, was just too daunting. Where are Max and Michael? she fretted in an agony of suspense, terrified that something horrible would happen to them while they were trailing Morton to who knew where. Shouldn't they be back by now? She needed to know that Max was safe and coming back to her soon. Who will heal him, she tormented herself, if both he and Michael are shot? In her mind's eye, she could see Morton taking aim at the only boy she had ever really loved BANG! A sudden loud explosion caused Liz to leap to her feet and let out a gasp of sheer terror. Her heart pounded like a jackhammer, and she was suddenly back at the Crashdown again, feeling the bullet slam into her belly, knocking her to the floor. The smell of smoke and burned gunpowder filled her throat, and she clutched her stomach in alarm. Help me! Max! Maria! I've been shot! "No, Liz! It's okay!" Maria grabbed onto Liz's arm to keep her from running away in fear. She thrust her face in front of Liz's, trying urgently to penetrate the instant panic stampeding through her friend. "It was just a car, Liz! Backfiring in the parking lot." Behind her, Alex jumped awkwardly from the bench onto the sidewalk, coming to their assistance, a dismayed look upon his face. "Only a car, that's all!"A car? Liz didn't understand. Adrenaline flooded her body, spurring an uncontrollable urge to run for safety She tugged on her arm, trying to break away from Maria's steady grip. Her frantic eyes searched wildly for Joe Morton and his smoking gun. A car? she dimly registered, blinking in fright and confusion. But I was shot, wasn't I? Pain, or the memory of pain, throbbed below her ribs. She looked down apprehensively, expecting to see blood gushing from her abdomen, seeping through her lightweight cotton T-shirt, but saw nothing of the kind, not even a single, charred bullet hole in her shirt. "A car?" she asked uncertainly.

Her friends flanked her on both sides, offering her reassurance and support. "That's right," Maria insisted once more. She took Liz's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "It was just a car, Liz."Alex seconded Maria's emphatic assertions. "It's okay, Liz," he said, taking hold of her other hand. "There's nothing to be afraid of. Everything's fine."Really? Liz wondered hopefully. The unreasoning panic began to subside as her friends' calming words sank in. She felt her pulse slowing to something closer to normal. Her breathing grew softer and more regular as she shakily contemplated the adjacent parking lot, which was crammed with dusty station wagons, SUVs, and vehicles from all over the country. It could have been a car, her fear-stricken mind gradually conceded. That ear- shattering, nerve-jangling bang might have been just a routine backfire, brought on by a faulty muffler or carburetor. But what about the pain, the agonizing impact of the bullet striking her flesh? She could've sworn that she'd been shot once more.

Liberating her hand from Marias consoling clasp, she gripped the bottom of her T-shirt and tugged the fabric upward, needing to see for herself that she was indeed unharmed. Her worst, most dire fears and expectations were not at all allayed when both Alex and Maria gasped out loud at the sight of her exposed belly. Filled with fear and trepidation, she looked down and let out a startled cry herself. "Oh, my God," she whispered.

There was no wound, no blood, but something else caused her eyes to widen and her jaw to drop. There, emblazoned on the quivering flesh of her bare stomach, was a phosphorescent silver handprint, glowing brighter than the noonday sun.