Quarantine

3

Maris sat behind her huge cherry wood desk, poring over her file on the Healer. She had a photograph from the incident at the hospital in Phoenix last December. The Healer had cured an entire cancer ward full of children, and there was a security photo of a teenage boy with long hair. The FBI Special Unit… from whom Maris had bought this file… had thought this boy was the Healer. But Maris wasn't so sure.

"It's worth investigating, I guess," she murmured, writing a note to herself to have a private investigator find out who the guy in the photo was.

Dr. Sosa's thin, reedy voice interrupted her thoughts. "You told me to report at the end of the day."

Without looking up, Maris said, "Come in and shut the door."

Alan entered her office and closed the thick metal door behind him. "Liz Parker left about ten minutes ago," he said.

"And?" Maris asked. "Did you give her the serum?"

Alan snorted. "Of course not. I had to have some control samples."

"Like what?" Maris asked.

"I have the old samples of the Healer's cells, and now I have samples of Liz Parker's. I managed to get a piece of her hair without her noticing."

"I'm bored by this, Alan," Maris said.

"If you want me to track the changes in her after I give her the serum, we need to have a baseline sample from before she has the serum," Alan said petulantly. "And besides, I found out something very interesting."

"What?"

"Her DNA is odd."

Maris frowned. "Odd how?"

"It has some similarities with the DNA from the Healer's cells."

Maris sat back in her chair. "That is interesting," she said. "Are you suggesting that when he heals, he actually changes the structure of the patient's DNA?"

"It would appear so," Alan said.

"So if he heals my husband, he'll be turning Clayton into some sort of superman," Maris said, more to herself than him.

"No, not at all," Alan corrected her. "Liz Parker isn't superhuman. She's simply… different. There's no reason to think the mutated DNA has any effect on her daily life. It may just be a tag left behind by the healing process. It doesn't seem to serve any purpose."

"Oh, please, Alan," Maris snorted. "You scientists can't. figure out the purpose of most of our genetic material. Don't pretend you know what this DNA does."

Alan sat down in one of her guest chairs without even

asking. "I think we need to reconsider using Liz to test the serum," he said.

Maris stared at him with contempt. "No."

"Maris… Ms. Wheeler. Liz already has compromised DNA. We won't be able to tell how the serum works on a regular person, a person who's never been healed by the Healer. She isn't a good test subject."

"Didn't you just say that you think the mutated DNA has no effect on her?" Maris asked.

Alan looked confused. Got him! Maris thought with satisfaction. She could always tell when Dr. Sosa was trying to worm his way out of doing something unpleasant.

"Be sure to give Liz the serum tomorrow," Maris instructed him. "Now get out of my office."

Kyle opened the front door and walked wearily inside. He tossed the keys onto the table beside the door and wiped his sweaty palms on the dark blue jumpsuit that was his uniform at Toby's Garage. Then he wrinkled his nose. He'd been underneath a car for the last three hours, but the air in the house he shared with his father was even harder to breathe than exhaust fumes. "Jeez, Dad, open some windows," he cried, fanning his face.

"Sorry, son," Jim Valenti called from his seat on the couch. "I guess we should clean up in here one of these days." Valenti took a swig of his Coke and continued watching TV

"Yeah, maybe next time I have an hour off," Kyle muttered as he forced open the living room window. Two men, their dirty clothes, and lots of leftover takeout could create quite a stench.

"How was your day?" Valenti asked.

"Uh… it sucked," Kyle replied. "How 'bout you? What did you do today?"

Valenti yawned. "Oh, a little of this, little of that."

Translation: Nothing at all, Kyle thought. He tried not be angry at his dad. After all, it wasn't Valenti's fault he'd lost his job. He'd been trying to help the aliens, the same way Kyle always tried to help them. He owed Max Evans his life, and Isabel was turning into one of his closest friends. Hell, even Michael had his moments. So if the interplanetary gang needed help, the Valentis were there.

Too bad it usually wreaked such havoc on their lives.

Kyle knew his father would snap out of this depression eventually and find a new job. But he'd been a police officer all his life, like his own father before him. Without his badge, Valenti didn't know what to do with himself.

Kyle opened the fridge and let the cool air wash over his hot skin. He took a cleansing breath and tried to remember his Buddhist teachings. He let the anger drain slowly from his body. He loved his father, even if he was no longer bringing in a single cent.

"When the man becomes a child, the child must become a man," he murmured. They would be all right. His mechanic job covered the mortgage payments, and the new Meta-chem job would buy some food. As long as his father got it together before Kyle had to go back to school in the fall, they'd do fine.

"Hey, close the fridge!" Valenti called. "You're wasting electricity."

Kyle clenched his teeth. "It's my electricity," he whispered. Still, he closed the refrigerator and turned toward his father.

"Package for you on the table," Valenti said. "A messenger brought it by today."

Kyle glanced at the bulky brown envelope. The label on it read META-CHEM. "Must be my new uniform," Kyle said. "I start at Meta-chem tomorrow."

He ripped open the paper and pulled out… a jumpsuit. Just like the one he was wearing now, except the Meta-chem jumpsuit was dark green. Over the right pocket, his name was stitched, and over the left pocket it said, HOUSEKEEPING. "Just kill me now," Kyle said.

"Looks like you won't need any new clothes for a while," Valenti joked.

Kyle narrowed his eyes and shot Valenti the nastiest look he had.

"Toss me a beer, would you, son?" Valenti asked.

"What city, please?" said the voice on the other end of the phone.

" Roswell," Sadie replied. She was crammed into a tiny phone booth on Nelson Avenue, and the cars and trucks were whizzing by pretty quickly.

"Georgia?" the operator asked.

Sadie covered her other ear with her hand to block out the noise of the traffic. "What?" she yelled into the phone…

" Roswell, Georgia?" the operator repeated.

"No, New Mexico," Sadie corrected her. "G-e-e-r-i-n. Michael Geerin. I need his address."

"No listing under that name," the operator said, and promptly hung up.

Sadie put the phone back in its cradle and tried not to get upset. This was the third phone booth she'd tried, and

none of them had phone books. She had to find the address of Michael's place, because that's where Maria was going. How could she watch Maria if she couldn't even find her?

Across the street there was a Gap. Sadie brightened, struck by an idea. She could go in there and get a tank top just like the one Maria was wearing today. That would make her feel better… she could dress just like Maria!

She pulled her heavy backpack onto her shoulders, waited for a break in the traffic, and ran across. Right outside the store was another pay phone. This one didn't have a whole booth, but it did have a Roswell phone book in the little cabinet underneath the phone.

"Yes!" Sadie cried happily. She grabbed the book and plopped down on the sidewalk next to the pay phone. Quickly she turned to the Gs. There was no Michael Geerin. "He must be unlisted," Sadie murmured sadly.

"Who are you looking for?" someone asked.

Sadie started, glancing anxiously up at the guy standing above her. She wasn't supposed to be in Roswell. If anyone turned her in, she'd be in huge trouble. "Urn, I'm looking for my, uh, cousin. Michael. But I can't find him," she said, climbing to her feet. She hitched her backpack up so it was more secure on her shoulders, in case she had to run.

"What's his last name?" asked the guy. "Maybe I know him."

Sadie thought about it. This guy was a teenager like Maria. Maybe he went to school with her and her boyfriend. "Geerin."

The guy stared at her for a second. Uh-oh, Sadie

thought. He knows I'm lying. She took a step backward.

"Michael's your cousin?" the guy asked, frowning. "I thought he was, like, a total orphan. I mean, with no family at all."

"So you know him?" Sadie asked eagerly.

"Sure. He was in my auto-shop class last year. Well, when he bothered to show." The guy took the phone book and flipped it open to the Gs. "Here," he said, pointing.

Sadie followed his finger. Michael Guerin. She'd been spelling it wrong.

It was a tiny little mistake, but suddenly she felt overwhelmed. What was she doing here, in a place she'd never been, looking for a teenage guy she'd never heard of before yesterday? It hadn't even occurred to her to check other spellings. She must be an idiot! Sadie's heart began to pound, and she felt panicky. She was in way over her head! She had to go home!

"Are you okay, kid?" the guy asked. "You look really pale."

Sadie tried to focus on him. She looked pale? "I'm not his cousin," she blurted out. "I'm really looking for his girlfriend. She's supposed to be there."

Just thinking of Maria calmed her down. That's why she was here, for Maria. She had nothing to worry about. She would find Maria.

The guy shrugged. "Whatever," he said. He wandered off down the sidewalk. Sadie waited until he was at the corner, then she sat back down on the concrete and pulled out her notebook.

Michael Guerin, she wrote. 1701 East 3rd St.

She reached into her backpack again and pulled out a well-worn map. She opened it up and spread it on the

sidewalk in front of her. It was a street map of Roswell, and she knew it almost by heart. She had no trouble finding Michael's address, and she wrote in big letters on the map: MICHAEL'S HOUSE. She already had Maria's house and the Crashdown Cafe written in.

Her confidence restored, Sadie folded up the map, stuck it in her backpack, and went into the Gap to buy a tank top just like Maria's.

"Jesse!" Isabel waved her arms, trying to get her boyfriend's attention across the crowded lawn. Summerhaven Park always filled up at lunchtime… all the businesspeople from the nearby firms liked to eat outside when the weather was nice.

"Jesse," she called again, more quietly this time. The office where Jesse… and her father… worked was only a few blocks away. It was entirely possible that her dad was in the park somewhere too. She was taking a big risk looking for Jesse in such a public place, but she had to see him. She had to explain why she'd hung up on him the day before.

Jesse finally noticed her and headed across the grass to where she'd set up her blanket. She'd found a spot as out of the way as possible.

"Hey," he said, sitting next to her on the blanket. "What are you doing here?" His voice was cold, and he didn't smile.

Isabel felt terrible. "I had to see you," she said in a rush, "I'm so sorry I hung up on you, Jesse. I just didn't know what else to do! My brother was there, and I could tell he was suspicious. I panicked."

Jesse relaxed a little. "I know, I figured it out," he said.

"I knew you'd understand." Isabel reached for his hand, but Jesse pulled away. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He gazed out over the crowded lawn, refusing to meet her eye. "It got me thinking."

"What did?"

"You lying to your brother about me. Why don't you tell him the truth?"

Isabel didn't know what to say. "We… we talked about this, Jesse," she started.

"We talked about keeping it from your parents," Jesse interrupted. "Because I work for your father. But you and your brother are supposed to be close. Why can't you tell him how you feel about me?"

Because he's an alien king and he thinks I'm supposed to obey everything he says, she thought. "It's complicated," she said aloud.

"Too complicated," Jesse agreed.

Alarm bells went off in Isabel's head. "What do you mean?"

For the first time, Jesse turned to face her. "You don't want to tell your brother because you think he won't approve," he said.

Isabel opened her mouth, but no words came out. He was right.

"That's what got me thinking," Jesse went on. "Your brother wouldn't approve, your friends wouldn't approve, and your father would fire me. Because I'm too old for you, Isabel. I'm out of college… I'm out of law school!… and you're not even a freshman yet."

"But I don't care about that," she cried. "Why should it matter how old you are? It's just a number!"

Jesse took her hand now. "Honey, it's not just a number,"

he said gently. "It's experience, it's years of learning how the world works. I just… know more than you do. I can't explain it. There's so much that you haven't done, that you haven't seen yet."

Isabel stared at him, dumbfounded. She had done and seen more than he could imagine. He wouldn't even believe most of the things she'd seen. But she couldn't tell him that. She couldn't risk him finding out her secret.

"You're young, and you should be able to act young," Jesse went on. "You deserve to have a boyfriend you don't have to lie about."

Isabel pulled her hand away. "I can handle it," she said shortly. Her whole life was a lie; why should her love life be any different?

Jesse shook his head. "I know this sounds condescending," he said, "but I don't think you can handle it. I don't even think I can handle it."

Isabel kept her eyes on the picnic basket she'd packed with such care. "Are you breaking up with me?" she whispered.

There was a long pause. Finally Isabel couldn't stand it. She raised her eyes to Jesse's distraught face.

"Yes," he said.

"Score!" Michael yelled. "I am the greatest!" He began his ridiculous victory dance around the foosball table, making his stomach ripple as he shuffled his feet.

Maria shook her head. Michael would never do this dance in front of anyone else. In a way, it proved what a deep intimacy he shared with her. And in another way, it proved what a total loser he was.

"It doesn't count if you're controlling both teams," Maria pointed out.

Michael stopped mid-ripple. "If you would just play with me, I wouldn't have to be both teams."

"Foosball is stupid."

"You only think that because you suck at it," Michael said. He halfheartedly continued his dance. Maria returned to reading the Rolling Stone that lay open on her lap.

"I could coach you," Michael offered.

"No thanks."

"I'll let you win the first game."

"How sweet," Maria said dryly, keeping her attention on the magazine.

Michael suddenly leaped across the room, planting himself right in front of Maria's face as she lounged on his filthy couch. He snatched the magazine away from her.

"Hey!" she yelped. "I was reading that!"

He began his dance again, holding up his T-shirt to show off his bare stomach as he sucked it in and out. "You know you want to play with me, baby," he cried. "You can't resist me!"

Maria stared at him, openmouthed. He looked like an idiot. She started to laugh.

Michael grinned back at her, then flopped down on the couch and took her in his arms. "Told you you couldn't resist me," he said, kissing her.

It was true. As much as he drove her nuts, Maria couldn't stay away from Michael for long. Even on those days when she couldn't think of a single thing that was attractive about him, all she had to do was look in his eyes and she was a goner. "I thought we were gonna do

something today," she said against his mouth.

"We are doing something," he murmured, slowly moving his hand down her side.

"Something outside," she said.

"This is better."

Maria closed her eyes and kissed him some more. She could do this forever, just lie in Michael's arms and forget about everything else. "No," she said abruptly, pushing him off her. "You said we could go out."

Michael ran his hand through his long hair. "It's a figure of speech," he said, his voice frustrated.

Maria jumped up from the couch and began to pace around his small apartment. "I'm sick of hanging around here all the time, Michael," she complained. "Other people go to movies, or go bowling, or… or whatever. I blew off my mother today when she needed my help. I thought we had plans."

She glanced out the small window in his living room, and stopped in surprise.

"Fine," Michael sighed. "What do you want to do?"

But Maria barely heard him. She stepped closer to the window and peered outside. There was that kid from the Crashdown, that strange little girl. She was sitting on the hood of a car parked across the street from Michael's building. Just sitting there, writing in a notebook. Suddenly the girl glanced up… right at Maria.

Maria gasped and leaped to the side, out of sight of the window. "There's someone out there," she hissed.

Michael was instantly on alert. "Where?" he asked, rushing to Maria's side.

"Across the street."

He eased himself up to the side of the window and peered around the edge.

Maria chewed on her lip, worried. Who was this kid? And what was she doing here? Seeing her at the Crash-down was one thing, but why would she be in Michael's neighborhood? Why was she watching Michael's apartment? Was she some kind of alien-hunter? Or one of the Skins who had somehow survived Tess's firestorm?

"It's a little girl," Michael said dubiously.

"Uh-huh." Maria took some calming breaths. They had managed to handle every alien threat so far. They would get through this one too.

Michael stepped out in front of the window.

"What are you doing?" Maria shrieked. "She'll see you!"

Michael pushed open the window. "Hey, kid! Scram!" he yelled.

Maria couldn't believe it. She pushed him aside and stared through the window. The girl hastily threw her notebook into a backpack and jumped off the car. She ran off down the road.

"She's not a stray dog, Michael," Maria snapped. "For all you know, she's going to get reinforcements."

He rolled his eyes. "Think about it. Did she look dangerous?"

Maria pictured the little girl, her hair in a ponytail, dressed in a skirt and a really cute tank top. A really familiar tank top, come to think of it. "I think she had the same shirt as me," Maria said.

Michael frowned. "Then maybe she is dangerous."

For a moment, Maria gave him her meanest glare. Then she pounced on him. Really, she never could resist him.

"Two hundred thirty-two one hundred by fifteen millimeter petri dishes," Liz said into the mini-tape recorder Dr. Sosa had given her. "And, for the record, no scholarship is worth this."

Liz hit play, listened to her last remark, and then erased it from the tape.

She put the newly counted carton full of petri dishes onto a shelf labeled PETRI DISHES. She had never been so bored in her life. Dr. Sosa had left for a meeting about an hour before, leaving Liz to take inventory of everything in the lab. He'd said he wanted to make sure he'd accounted for every piece of equipment in the move. But Liz thought he really wanted to drive her crazy. Maybe he was trying to get her to quit.

Her stubborn nature arose at the thought. She wasn't going to quit, no matter what kinds of menial labor he gave her. This job was an important stepping-stone to her future, and she would stick it out.

"I work in a famous cancer research lab," she said out loud. That made her feel better. Maybe this was what lab assistants did… count and label and organize. She'd done a lot of actual research on her own, working on all sorts of alien-related chemistry. But Dr. Sosa didn't know that. He thought she was just a typical high school student, and that's how he was treating her. She would simply have to prove him wrong.

Liz picked up the box cutter and opened another carton of petri dishes… this time the thirty-five by ten millimeter ones. She ran her finger slowly over a stack of dishes, counting. She lost count by the time she got to ten.

I need a break, she decided. She made her way out of the supply closet where she'd been working, and wandered back into the main lab. It was deserted. Dr. Sosa didn't seem to have any research assistants except her. Liz didn't know what to make of it… a world-famous doctor, a brand-new lab, groundbreaking research. There should be about thirty people working round the clock on this project. But she'd met no one other than Dr. Sosa.

Liz stretched her arms in the air, trying to ease the stiffness from squatting all day, counting things. She glanced around the lab, reveling in the neat chrome countertops, the high-powered microscopes, and the centrifuges. She loved laboratories, the way everything was in order, everything was under control. This was her natural environment, she was sure of it. All her life, she'd felt most comfortable in a lab.

Until Max. With Max nothing was under control… least of all her own feelings. She simply melted whenever he was near her. As if he were my destiny, she thought. Too bad I wasn't his.

Liz shook off the bitterness. Tess was Max's destiny. Liz had known that for more than a year now. Max hadn't asked for it. It wasn't his fault Tess had turned out bad. It wasn't even his fault that he'd slept with Tess. Well, not entirely. After all, on their home planet she was his wife.

None of that helped. The pain was still there. Liz still felt betrayed by Max. How could he have made love to anyone other than her?

I've got to focus on something else, she thought. I'm here at Meta-chem, and there's only me. No aliens. Nothing to worry about.

Her gaze fell on Dr. Sosa's work station. He'd put everything away before leaving Liz alone, but she'd seen where the most recent samples were kept. Maybe she could take a peek at some of the mutated cells he was working with. It wouldn't do any harm… these were just basic samples. The important materials were kept under lock in a small chamber at the back of the room.

Liz pulled open a long, flat drawer at Dr. Sosa's workstation. Inside were several small boxes of slides. One box was labeled PATIENT X and dated yesterday. Liz opened the box and removed one of the slides inside.

"Okay, Patient X, let's see your cancer cells," she whispered, putting the slide under the microscope. She leaned in, brought the slide into focus, and saw large, five-sided cells. Green cells.

Liz's mind flew back to that day two years earlier when she'd first learned the truth about Max's alien nature. She'd swiped some cells from his cheek and looked at them under the microscope in the high school lab. His cells hadn't looked like hers. They hadn't looked human. They were large, and shaped like little pentagons. They were green.

They were the same as these cells.

Liz's head spun. These cells, here in Dr. Sosa's lab. These cells weren't human.

Did Meta-chem know about the aliens?