This is so not good, she thought as she began banging on the orb once again.
Energy flew from the orb, knocking her to the ground. A section of dirt disappeared beneath her hands as she nearly fell into the nothingness left in its place.
«Kyle!» She threw herself against the orb, fearing what would happen if she got trapped in the void that was enveloping the dream world. «Kyle!» She kicked at the expanding globe.
The darkness spread in pieces around her as Kyle was trying to organize his thoughts and remove the harmful imagery without realizing that he could be removing Isabel from existence. She had to take several steps to the left to keep from falling into the void as she saw the swirling colors of the sphere begin to fade. The surface of the orb began to clear, and she could see Kyle much more easily now, but his eyes were still closed to her. «Kyle!»
From within his meditative state, Kyle could hear a voice calling out to him. It was familiar to him. Using the
techniques he had been self-taught, Kyle methodically tried to clear his mind, removing the offending images piece by piece as he reached out to the voice. More of the confusion fell away as he concentrated on the voice.
«Kyle, open your eyes!» she screamed. Knowing she had little time to act because the blackness was taking over, Isabel held out her hands and focused her concentration. She had no reason to believe that her alien powers would work in this dream world, but she was out of options.
Kyle heard Isabel that time. She was reaching out to him, calling for him. He tried to do whatever he could to answer her back.
Taking strength from her powerful fear, Isabel shot her hands out. Screaming Kyle's name, she forced the orb to burst in an explosion of light.
16
Michael pulled Kyle's car into an empty space right in front of Garrisons Hardware store and passed his hand over the dashboard to stop the engine. Double-checking to confirm that the sack he had previously picked up was tucked safely under the seat, he got out of the car.
Afraid to risk the important hidden items from being stolen, he fused the car locks with his hand. Now if anyone tried to break into the flashy car, they would have to do it by smashing the window or cutting through the cloth roof. And let's assume the people strolling on the streets of Roswell would be Good Samaritans and stop the thief before he got in.
Leaving the car behind, Michael went into Garrison's.
«Where do you keep your rope?» he asked, grabbing the first employee he saw as he stepped into the store.
Naturally, it was the only store employee, since the place was both owned and run by the somewhat Elderly Old Man Garrison. The nickname wasn't an insult, as the man wore it like a badge of honor, preferring to go by the
title Elderly Old Man without believing the phrase to be even remotely redundant.
He was one of the oldest living residents of Roswell, and as such acted even older than his true age out of a desire to be treated like the oldest living resident in Roswell. It was rather unfortunate for Michael that Elderly Old Man Garrison was in one of his more eccentric moods when he woke up that morning and was apparently planning to stay that way for the rest of the day.
«What kind of rope?» Garrison asked.
«Rope," Michael said, wondering why he had even bothered to ask. The place was one of the smaller stores on Roswell's main drag. It wasn't like it would have taken him hours to find the item he was looking for on his own.
«Well, what do you want to do with the rope?» Elderly Old Man Garrison asked. «Different kinds of jobs take different kinds of ropes.»
«Right now, I'm thinking of a hanging," Michael suggested.
Elderly Old Man Garrison's laughter turned into a wheezing attack. Granted, he wasn't actually having a real breathing problem, it was all just part of the act.
I hate these quaint colorful small-town characters, Michael thought. Why couldn't ours have been the set of pods that was transported to New York? At least there the crazies are actually crazy-Garrison recovered from his false asthma attack and set into his routine. «Now, for small jobs, you can use some twine or maybe even some fishing line. Fishing line is good because it's strong but lightweight. Now, we don't actually carry fishing line, but we do have twine-"
«Listen, Old Man-"
«That's Elderly Old Man, sonny.» He was having the most fun he had had in a long time. His favorite playmates were the kids who never seemed to have any interest in playing along.
Michael lamented the fact that he had not brought Maria along, because she was much better suited to handle these types of characters. In many ways, she is one of these types of characters, he thought.
«Sir," Michael stressed the word, which apparently impressed the Elderly Old Man. «I'm in a bit of a hurry, so please either tell me where the rope is or I will have to take my business elsewhere.»
Never one to let his fun get in the way of turning a profit, Garrison pointed Michael in the right direction. «Aisle three, sonny. And you let me know if you need any help.»
«Sure," Michael said, having absolutely no intention to ask even if he had to climb the shelves himself to reach, what he was looking for.
Hurrying down aisle three, Michael found a huge collection of rope of all different varieties. Good thing I cut the old man off, he thought, or we'd be here all afternoon.
Grabbing a bag of fifty-foot-long, one-inch-wide rope off the shelf, Michael hurried back to make his purchase. He had taken too much time in getting the first items on his list and he could already hear Maria complaining about his disappearance. He didn't need to take any longer.
For once the delay wasn't Michael's fault. If Kyle could learn to fill his car with gas once in a while, he cursed his friend one more time. Michael had considered just driving
along without any gas in the car. It was possible to do that with his powers, but it didn't really do nice things to the engine. Instead, Michael had to use his powers to push the car to a gas station for a fill-up.
Luckily, he only had one more stop on the list before he could head back to Isabel's side. Of course, he still had to have another run-in with Elderly Old Man Garrison at the checkout.
«Found that rope?» Elderly asked the obvious as Michael dropped his purchase on the counter in front of him.
«Yes.» Michael decided to keep his answers short and sweet.
Apparently where money was concerned, Elderly Old Man Garrison was just as happy to keep the transaction quick and efficient, and Michael easily paid for the items and rushed out of the store.
«Come back soon," the store owner hollered with a wave.
Ignoring the man, Michael continued walking down the Roswell main shopping district to a store called The Pottery Place. The store window was full of more knick-knacks and dust collectors than he ever imagined anyone could possibly need. Quite frankly, he had never expected to see the inside of the store in his lifetime in Roswell, but he had certainly done stranger things in the unending quest to combat strange alien phenomena.
Bracing himself for the smell of potpourri and the sounds of wind chimes, Michael entered the curiosity shop. The things I do for my friends, was the last thing he thought before the kitsch overwhelmed him.
If Michael had taken just a few more seconds to prepare himself before entering the store, he would have run into Jim Valenti coming out of Moby Disc, the music store attached to The Pottery Place. Valenti was carrying a bag full of sheet music and a hastily purchased guitar, still humming the same happy tune that had been stuck in his head all day.