Dreamwalk

Paul Ruoitis Dreamwalk (Roswell’’-03)

From the television series developed by Jason Katims.

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property It was reported as «unsold and destroyed» to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this «stripped book.»

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

First Simon Pulse edition January 2003

™ and © 2003 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation, Regency Entertainment (USA) Inc. and Monarchy Enterprises B.V

All rights reserved SIMON PULSE

An imprint of Simon Schuster Children's Publishing Division 1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

Printed in the United States of America 10 987654321

Library of Congress Control Number 2002107315 ISBN 0-689-85518-4

PROLOGUE

Knifing through the desert for mile after mile he passed nothing but desolate land. An open road lay out before him and miles of road behind. Looking back, he saw nothing but knew they were there. He wasn't sure if he was running away from something or heading toward it, but he knew for certain that he did not have much time.

You did this to me. You sent me to Las Cruces.

He was not alone. True, the voices in his mind accompanied him wherever he was going, but there was something else… someone else. The additional presence was both calming and disturbing at the same time.

But the voices… they were there too… always.

Alex, Alex, let me fix your mind. You're not thinking straight.

The car pulled to the side of the road. The sun beat down and reflected off mile marker forty-seven, burning into his eyes. Stepping out of the passenger side onto the parched desert land, he waited in the searing heat.

You mindwarped me for two months… now there's nothing left… You destroyed my mind!

A pair of vultures circled overhead. Their meandering course persisted on above. His eyes were drawn to watch them, though he wanted to look away. It was only a matter of time before they attacked. He knew that for certain. The attack always came. But he did not fear for his own safety. They only fought each other.

Kyle get out. Kyle go!

He was back in his bedroom, encircled by the wood paneling he had tried to cover with posters of heroes in his youth. Heroes he had often hoped would come in and save him from his life. Heroes he now knew did not have the power for the kind of rescue he required.

I have nothing. I might as well be dead!

The voices persisted as shadows danced around him. First looming indistinct ghosts of a past long gone, followed by more recent wraiths who began to find flesh and form. First she appeared, looking so harmless, yet hiding within her an unimaginable evil. Then he emerged, the helpless innocent fearing for his own life and sanity. Fearing her.

Calm down. Calm down!

No, you can't mindwarp me!

An old friend. A new enemy. Surrounding him. Trapping him. Drawing ever closer. His mind hurt. The pain was excruciating. He tried to block it out, to run from it, but he could not move.

You can't mindwarp me… No!!! Nooooo!!!

Kyle bolted up in his bed, sweat soaking through his T-shirt as he held tight to the covers on the unseasonably cool summer night. His eyes adjusted to the darkness as the shadows lessened and familiar forms began to take shape around his bed.

Visually exploring the room that he had reclaimed after Tess's departure, Kyle knew that he was alone, but not entirely. Hardly a night had gone by in the past several weeks that he was not haunted by the images. What he had once forgotten, he was forced to remember, and since the day he recalled the mindwarp that Tess had performed on him, he could not escape the memory.

He had witnessed Alex's death at Tess's hands and had unwittingly taken part in the cover-up. He'd then attended his friend's funeral unaware of his own involvement in the murder. He'd even comforted Tess and sought comfort from her as they had continued to form a familial bond like that of a brother and sister. She had been the closest friend he'd had in a long time, but eventually he discovered that it had all been a lie.

Since the day Liz and Maria had helped him remember everything, his dreams had been full of voices of the past. The images of the horrific act plagued his mind as other, more confusing thoughts raced through his head. He saw a combination of things familiar and unusual. But, even worse, the images remained even afterward, and the voices followed him when he awoke.

First his own voice.

You want me to come along?

And then hers.

No. Go in the house. Ill take care of everything from here.

1

«Are you sure you want to do this?» Max asked a question he had asked often in the past two years with the same intensity he usually reserved for life-and-death situations.

«I've come this far," Liz replied, looking unsure. «Everyone is counting on me.»

«They'll understand," he said.

«But I won't.» Liz stepped out of the booth, smoothing the wrinkles in her light blue dress. She had chosen the color after making the rule that no one was to wear black that night. Black was morbid. Tonight was a celebration of life. «I was so busy trying to solve Alex's murder that I never had the chance to let him go. I have to do this. Not just for Alex, but for myself.»

Dressed in a rust-colored T-shirt with brown pants, Max watched as Liz walked through the small crowd at the Crashdown, heading for the makeshift stage they had set up in front of the counter. It was little more than a few lights and a microphone borrowed from the school AV closet, but it was going to have to do. Max thought it was great of Liz's father to forgo a night's profits and close down the cafe for the gathering of friends and family.

The group included their own inner circle, minus Kyle, who was finishing up at his new job at the auto shop. There were also some of Alex's closer friends from school-the lucky students of West Roswell High whose main concerns in life had to do with grades and finding a date for Saturday night and not life-and-death alien encounters. Max knew most of them fairly well, but could not count them as close friends since his very nature kept him distant from anyone for fear of bringing them into his life like he had brought in Liz and her friends. And tonight was a perfect example of why that was such a horrible thing for him to do to them.

Aside from friends, he counted many families among the participants. His own adoptive parents were there, supporting him, Isabel, and the Whitmans as they had a couple months ago at the funeral. Maria's mom was there too, sitting at a table next to Sheriff Valenti. Even though the sheriff had lost his job helping Max, he couldn't think of the man as anything other than «sheriff.» Seeing the two single parents together, their strange, shared history of being abandoned by their spouses years ago inexplicably popped into Max's head. Ignoring the thought, Max continued scanning the room, ending with Alex's parents. He didn't even want to think about what they were going through.

«It started four years ago," Liz spoke into the microphone. «It was during my short-lived artistic phase, before I really got into science. Alex, Maria, and I got together onthis midsummer's night to have our own private talent show. Alex and Maria played bass and guitar while they sang, and I did whatever I could to keep up with them, mostly by reciting some poetry.» She took a breath to choke back on the tears that were about to escape. «We continued the tradition every summer since, and now I invite you all to join in with us, in memory of Alex.»