The rest room was conveniently empty, except for a coin-operated robot dispensing toiletries, so Isabel wasted no time throwing the briefcase down on the counter by the sinks and tugging at its lid. The case was locked, of course, but that was no problem; a single touch of her fingertip undid the lock, which came Open widi a click. Taking hold of the sides of the lid with both hands, she paused in hushed anticipation for only a single heartbeat. Okay, she thought gravely, let's see what the big deal is.
She lifted the lid and a blinding silver glare escaped from inside the case, forcing Isabel to blink and look away, her eyes watering. The unearthly glow faded after a moment, though, and she cautiously shifted her gaze back toward the case's exposed interior, eager to see what the initial burst of light had concealed.
To her surprise, she saw that the bottom of the case had turned into a kind of window, through which she saw a gleaming silver saucer cruising through space toward a bright blue sphere that she quickly identified as the planet Earth. A frown twisted her lips as, mystified and disappointed, she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. This can't possibly be the literal contents of the case! she theorized in a rush, based on equally surreal experiences on other dreamwalks. More like some freaky symbolic metaphor.
Before her bewildered brown eyes, the spinning saucer entered Earth's atmosphere, glowing brightly red as some sort of protective aura shielded the alien spacecraft from the searing heat of entry. The saucer sped downward, approaching the surface of the planet at a precipitous angle, and Isabel gasped out loud as she swiftly guessed what she was witnessing. She recognized the blue skies and arid terrain of southeastern New Mexico only seconds before the shining saucer collided violently with the ground, throwing up a cloud of flying dust and debris. I knew it, she thought, her appalled eyes aflame with realization. It's the Crash! A lump formed in her throat as she waited for the smoke and dust to settle, revealing all that was left of the space-faring vessel after it disintegrated on impact. Part of her didn't want to see the twisted wreckage and broken, inhuman bodies, but she couldn't look away either. This was, after all, the same fateful accident that had stranded her and Max and the others on a planet where they could never truly fit in. Is this what the Crash really looked like, she wondered, or just how Morton imagines it? There was no way to know for sure, but the inexplicable, eyewitness coverage of the alien craft's earthshaking demise stirred powerful emotions in Isabel, so that she was completely caught off guard when the door banged open and Joe Morton barged into the ladies' room, tracking sticky black tar onto the tile floor. "There you are!" he snarled, thrusting his immense gun in Isabel's face while his free hand slammed the lid of the briefcase shut. "Who the hell are you anyway?" he demanded, standing so close to Isabel that she could see the tobacco stains on his teeth. He grabbed onto her arm and shook her roughly. "Who are you working for?"Heat radiated from the red-hot muzzle of Morton's firearm. The smoky smell of gunpowder, like Fourth of July fireworks, filled her nostrils. She heard the gun cock ominously Okay, she decided. Enough is enough. Briefcase or no briefcase, I'm getting the heck out of here.
"Spill it, you witch!" Morton barked at her, spraying saliva in her face. His beefy fingers dug painfully into her arm. "Who are you, and how did you pull that stunt back there, with the tar and the slots? Tell me, you thieving slut."In your dreams," Isabel replied. She spit directly into his fuming, beet-red face, and he pulled the trigger at trie very split second that she- -woke up back at the motel room, the deafening boom of Morton's gun still ringing in her ears. She sat up in bed, shaking and soaked in sweat, provoking gasps from both Max and Alex, who hurried to her side instantly. "Iz! Are you okay?" they asked almost simultaneously.
She nodded woozily, too breathless to speak right away. Tremors shook her from head to toe, and her own blood pounded in her ears, making her dizzy. "Just give me a minute," she murmured finally, as she struggled to readjust to reality. Exhaustion, both emotional and physical, washed over her body, which felt as though it had actually run for its life across the length of the imaginary casino. Despite the air-conditioning, the room felt unbearably hot and stuffy, so she peeled off her heavy sweater. That's a little better, she thought, although the short-sleeved silk blouse underneath felt soiled and sticky with sweat.
Glancing at the clock radio by the bed, she was startled to see that less than thirty minutes had passed since she had first lowered her head onto the cheap motel pillow. Is that all? she marveled; it felt as if she had been stalking Joe Morton for half the night.
"What happened?" Max asked insistently, kneeling beside the bed next to her, his dark, serious eyes searching her face for clues to what had transpired during her exploratory dreamwalk. "What did you see?"Isabel started to answer, but her mouth was as dry as the desert. "A glass of water, please," she croaked pitifully, mas- saging her throat, "with maybe a couple drops of Tabasco in it?"Alex sprang at once to secure her tonic. "I'm on it!" he announced eagerly, while Max stayed to watch over Isabel, waiting tensely until Alex returned from the bathroom with a glass of clear water faintly tinged with red. Isabel reached gratefully for the cup, but was startled when Alex reacted with shock and surprise. "Isabel!" he blurted, eyes wide with dismay. "Your arm!"She followed his own horrified gaze to where five ugly purple bruises defaced the toned white flesh of her upper arm, exactly where Joe Mortons brutal fingers had squeezed her arm so mercilessly. "Oh, that," she said archly, regarding the telltale bruises with icy disdain. "Nothing to worry about. Just a little souvenir from our friend with the gun, not to mention anger-management issues."Here, let me fix that," Max offered. His fingertips brushed over her arm, removing the bruises by healing the injured tissues beneath her skin.
"Thanks," Isabel murmured. She sipped the Tabasco-flavored tap water, which soothed her throat and helped steady her nerves. Slowly, haltingly, she told her brother and her (sort of) boyfriend everything that she had experienced while exploring Morton's memorably nasty dreamscape, while also trying to interpret the dream's occasionally surreal symbolism. She didn't understand everything she'd seen and felt in the dank alley and lurid casino, but a few things seemed obvious.
"Whatever he's got in that briefcase," she said with utter certainty, "it has something to do with the Crash." In her memory, the soaring UFO once again dived into the unforgiving Earth, and she started to choke up. Another gulp of cool water was required before she could deliver one more piece of bad news. "And that's not all, Max," she said, swallowing hard because she knew that her brother wasn't going to like what she was about to tell him. "Morton bows. He knows about Liz!"
13.
Joy, we couldn't look more hungover, Maria thought, than if we'd actually spent all of last night drinking.
Breakfast was the morning buffet at the Denny's next to the Days Inn. Except for Liz, who was still recuperating in her motel room, and Max, whose turn it was to keep watch over Morton's temporary residence at the Motel 6, the rest of the vacationing teens were refueling with various combinations of coffee, orange juice, scrambled eggs, bacon, fruit, and breakfast pastries. An aspiring vegetarian, with occasional lapses, Maria had eschewed animal products in favor of toast, cantaloupe, grapefruit, and a plate full of melon balls, but her healthier diet failed to spare her from the subdued, enervated atmosphere at the table. Worn out by all their intensive snooping the night before, nobody was talking much, aside from Alex, who kept making sporadic attempts to get a smile or a laugh out of Isabel, who still seemed to be recovering, emotionally, from her nocturnal trek through Joe Mortons psyche.