Tess turned, looking directly at Isabel. «Kyle, get out!» she yelled, with anger finally creeping into her voice as if Kyle had done something wrong simply by walking into his own bedroom.
But Kyle wasn't standing there, Isabel was.
It was the first time she had seen Tess since she'd found out the truth behind Alex's death. The evil alien had left Earth before Isabel had had a chance to confront her and make her either explain why or suffer for what she had done. And even though Isabel knew that the image standing before her was only a dream, she still wanted to lash out… to hurt her… to kill her.
Through her own boiling anger, Isabel heard Alex say that he might as well be dead.
«No!» Isabel yelled as if the strength of her voice could stop past events. «Don't say that! Don't wish that!» she screamed, trying to tear him away from Tess, but something held her firmly in her spot. She could not move. She could not stop what was happening.
She could only watch as Tess grabbed Alex's hands and closed her eyes performing the mindwarp… the last mindwarp… the fatal mindwarp.
«No!» Isabel screamed in unison with Alex.
Still locked in place, Isabel watched Alex crying out in pain, trying to pull away, then falling… to the floor… to his death.
Isabel broke loose a torrent of sobs. Not even her most horrific dream had prepared her for witnessing the events as they had played out. She had never even imagined the feeling of helplessness Kyle must have experienced watching the scenario unfold and not knowing what was going on, ultimately realizing there was nothing he could have done. An intense feeling of guilt washed over her worse than she had ever felt before.
A moment later, Isabel was dragging a duffel bag. She
was confused by what was going on. Where is Alex? Did it really happen? Did I really see what I saw? The bag was heavy, and the weight was unevenly distributed. It didn't feel right to her.
Tess followed as Isabel dragged the bag out of the Valenti house. There was a forced smile on Tess's face, and Isabel knew that she should hate the girl, but couldn't figure out why. She carelessly deposited the bag into the car, stuffing it into the front seat.
Suddenly, realization struck Isabel. It hit with the force of a train. There was no duffel bag. Alex was the thing she had loaded into the car. He was the thing slumped in the passenger seat… broken… dead.
«You want me to come along?» she asked Tess without knowing why.
«No," Tess replied in a hollow voice. «Go in the house. I'll take care of everything from here.»
Although she wanted to stay, Isabel was drawn back into the house. She did not even stop to look at Alex for a final few seconds as Tess pulled away. She heard the car engine start as, crying, she made her way back through the Valenti home.
I didn't want to see this. I didn't want to live through this.
The pain was unimaginable.
She was back in Kyle's bedroom. Echoes of Tess and Alex resonated through her head. The fight played over in her thoughts… His final words… his final scream of pain.
Isabel collapsed onto the floor on the spot where Alex had died, weeping uncontrollably.
Why?
The bedroom door slammed behind her, drawing Isabel's attention away from the empty spot on the floor.
With tears in her eyes and streaming down her face, she looked at the closed door, but there was no one there.
Then she felt his presence in the room before she saw him.
Still on the floor, she wiped the tears from her eyes and looked up at the bed beside her. A small boy was sitting on the edge, with his legs gently swinging back and forth. He was looking down at her, both sad for her and frightened of her at the same time. «It's all my fault," he said in a hollow voice.
Jim Valenti crept silently through his house taking extra care not to wake up his son, who had crashed on the couch. He was used to the hushed puttering around because Kyle used to sleep there regularly while Tess had been staying with them.
Valenti cringed when he thought of his former house-guest. He had taken the seemingly helpless girl into his home and let her live with him and his son as a part of their family and all the while she was using one of their friends and ultimately wound up killing him. Valenti had always prided himself on his detective skills, and still had not managed to get over the fact that he had lived for weeks with a murderer under his own roof.
Pushing the useless regrets out of his head, Valenti took a moment to observe his slumbering son. When Kyle was a child, Valenti used to make a practice out of peering into the boy's room when he would come home late from work, to make sure his son was sleeping soundly. He especially made a habit of it after his wife, Michelle, had left them for parts unknown.
Sitting for a moment on the piano bench, he remembered
back to the time when music had filled the house. He and his former wife would take turns singing their son to sleep on the nights he had come home from work on time. He had forgotten how much he missed the music until recently. The memorial for Alex had been a powerful reminder.
Kyle was tossing on the unmade couch and mumbling slightly. Valenti worried that his son might be having a bad dream, because the way his face was scrunched as if in pain. He remembered back to a time when, as a child, Kyle always looked like a cherub lying under the covers-one of heaven's youngest angels. Valenti chuckled to himself as he thought, Kyle would love me to describe him that way in front of his friends. Ill have to remember to do that someday.
Still in silence, Valenti finished up his morning rituals planning for the long day ahead of him, in which he had much to do. Writing a note to his son, he tried to explain what he was up to, but decided on a simple, «Gone out. Be back later," because the full explanation was more than one sheet of paper off the notepad could manage to fit. Valenti left the note on the coffee table, taking one last look at his sleeping son. Then he threw on a light jacket and made his way out the front door, humming as he carefully closed the door behind him.
The slight click of the lock was enough to rouse Kyle from his somewhat troubled sleep. Morning came for him much more slowly than it had in the past few days. Light was streaming through the window warming his face and brightening the darkness behind his eyes. The dreams had not gone away, but somehow they had seemed more manageable, more tolerable. For the first time in weeks, he felt somewhat rested.
Peering through the slits in his eyes, he turned his head to the clock on the wall and saw that he had actually gotten over five hours of uninterrupted sleep. It wasn't a full night, but it was far more than he had slept in a long time.
With a small sense of relief, Kyle fully opened his eyes.
Rolling off the couch and onto the floor, he did his usual quick set of push-ups to get the blood flowing and rouse the body and mind back into full consciousness. He hadn't done this morning ritual in several days, since he was usually too tired to get out of bed, much less attempt any exercising. Today, however, was different. True, he was still somewhat groggy, but at least he felt rested.
Reaching out to the coffee table, he picked up his father's short note and added yet another meaningless clue to the mystery of his dad's disappearing acts. Oh well, hell tell me when he's ready, Kyle thought.
Stretching, he stood and scratched his belly. Taking a deep breath, he felt more awake than he had in days, but still with some residual sleep filling his head. It was taking a while for him to clear his mind and become fully conscious, but at least he wasn't plagued with horrible images. He hoped that the feeling would last the rest of the day, or at least the morning.