«Isabel, get up!» he tried again, yelling and shaking her.
He checked her pulse and found it a little slow, but nothing to add to his already growing concern. Her skin felt cool to the touch, indicating that she probably didn't have a fever. «Isabel!»
Nothing.
As he wondered what to do, Kyle thought he heard a noise coming from another part of the house. He was struck with the sudden fear that whatever, or whoever, had done this to Isabel could still be in the house. However, he resisted the temptation to call Sheriff Hanson for help, knowing that if he brought the police to the Evans home he could be asking for more trouble than he was currently facing. Besides, he wasn't even sure if he had heard a noise or if it was just his imagination acting up.
Searching the room again, Kyle grabbed a tennis racket, as it was the only weapon he could find. Peeking out Isabel's door, he began his search of the house, silently cursing himself for not going to get some kind of help first.
Kyle confirmed that the hall was empty before stepping out and crossing into Max's room. Luckily, the door was open, so he could tell there didn't seem to be any surprises in there waiting for him. The room appeared empty, but he searched it anyway since it was the most likely place someone would be hiding if they were looking for something alien related. Exchanging Isabel's tennis racket for Max's baseball bat, he tried the closet but happily found it to be empty. Keeping the bat in his hands, he moved on to the rest of the house.
Making his way through Mr. and Mrs. Evans's bedroom, he continued to find nothing out of the ordinary.
Glad to have the weapon for protection, he took his search through the rest of the house, going from room to room, checking doors and windows as he went. The doors were all locked, but most of the windows were not. However, all of them were closed except for the one Kyle had come through.
Ending his search back in Isabel's room, Kyle let some of the tension release from his body, content to believe he had only been hearing things. He put the bat down in a corner, making sure it was easily accessible in case he needed it later.
Michael.
«I'll be right back," he promised Isabel's prone form, «with help.»
Back out the window, Kyle hopped into his car and pointed it in the direction of Michael's apartment. He hated to leave Isabel alone as she was, but he had no choice. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have tried to call Maria. Even if she wasn't home, her mother probably could have given him Michael's number. But Kyle wasn't thinking clearly. He was thinking of the myriad of things that could have put Isabel in her comatose state.
Zooming through the streets of Roswell, he was afraid he might get pulled over by the police. True, he could probably talk any of the deputies out of giving him a ticket, since he had grown up around most of them. But he didn't want to have to waste the time being lectured, since they all still thought of him as a little kid. He silently prayed to Buddha to keep fortune on his side as he headed for Michael's place with his tires screeching at every highspeed turn.
Deep within the recesses of Kyle's mind, Isabel sat in an exact re-creation of his bedroom. She was no longer alone. A boy sat beside her who appeared to be around six years old-and seemed to be Kyle.
Isabel had known Kyle for years, although they had not been close friends until recent events had thrown them together. She remembered how he had looked the first time she had seen him at school. The small boy who sat beside her on Kyle's bed seemed slightly younger than the Kyle she had met on the playground that fateful day when her friends and she had actually noticed the boys on the junior league football team for the very first time. There was no doubt in her mind that this boy was one and the same.
He sat there silently swinging his feet back and forth. The bed actually squeaked slightly with each swing of the leg, impressing Isabel by the sheer realism of the dream. Other than that, the room was deathly silent. He had not said a word since his cryptic acceptance of the blame.
It's all my fault.
Isabel had lost track of time, but she knew that she must have been in this dreamwalk longer than in any other she had ever experienced. This concerned her on two levels. First, she worried about her own body since her subconscious had never been gone for so long. And second, she worried about what she could be doing to Kyle's already fragile mind. I was just supposed to look around, she reminded herself. «Are you sure you don't want to talk?» she asked the boy yet again.
He shook his head.
«Kyle," she said, deciding to take the chance and use his name.
He looked up at her, confirming her suspicions, but remained silent.
«I understand that you might not want to say anything to me right now," she said gently. «But if that's the case, I'm going to have to leave.»
Young Kyle Valenti had a momentary flash of fright cross his face, but it was quickly replaced by a firm look of resolve. He seemed determined about something, but it remained a secret known only to him.
His feet continued to kick against the bed in a familiar rhythm.
Tap, tap tap. Tap, tap.
«I'm sorry," she said. «But I'm afraid if I stay any longer I might hurt you.»
Hoping to calm the child, Isabel realized that she was only explaining her motivation for leaving to a shadow projected by Kyle's mind, but this was uncharted territory for her. She was even more concerned that she was doing permanent damage with each passing minute she spent in Kyle's subconscious.
Reaching back into herself, Isabel consciously willed her subconscious to return to her body. Closing her eyes, she prepared for the journey, but when she reopened them, instead of finding herself back in her room, she was still in Kyle's bedroom-or, more specifically, in the dream image of Kyle's bedroom.
She tried once again, closing her eyes and welcoming the sensations that she had grown so familiar with in her many past dreamwalks. She reached out for the floating
feeling usually associated with the freedom of traveling outside of her own body and sought the safety and recon-nection of her return. However, she felt none of those things as her mind remained locked inside Kyle's.
«Why can't I leave?» she asked the boy, trying not to panic both for his sake and her own. Kyle could wake up soon, she thought, incorrectly assuming that she was trapped in a nightmare when in reality it had already become a waking dream.
«I don't want you to go.» He finally spoke, with childlike innocence typical of his age.
«But I have to," she calmly pleaded. «I've been here too long. It isn't safe. I could be hurting you.»
He just stared resolutely.
«Please, Kyle," she begged with a little more agitation creeping up within her. «I promise I'll come back tomorrow night if you want to talk. And every night after that until you feel better.»
«No," he said firmly. «I don't want you to go… ever.»
12
«Where are we going?» Liz called to Max as she tried to keep up with him.
«We're following a hunch.» Max stalked his way over the ranch land he and Liz had just traveled, heading back in the direction of the house. Circling around the front, he veered to the right and followed the driveway up the garage. Pulling on each of the two large garage doors, he found that they were both locked. «Do you know where the keys are?» He started to circle the outbuilding, looking for another entranceway.
«I think I saw a set in the kitchen.» Liz started to walk back to the house.
«Never mind," he said as he turned the corner and found that a side door had been left wide open, presumably for their benefit.