Liz put her hand up to her mouth and directed her comment to the male nurse. "Oooh, guess I hit a nerve. “
As Liz was doing her shtick, Maria moved up on her tiptoes and scanned anything on the desk that might tell her where the critical patients were. She thought she could see something on the monitor, but if she looked closer, she'd risk the male nurse seeing her snooping.
Suddenly Liz let out a yelp, then fell to the ground, out of sight on the other side of the desk. The two nurses rushed out to help her.
"Are you all right?" the male nurse asked.
"I think I twisted my ankle," Liz said. "I'm not used to walking in flats. “
"Let's get you over to the couch," the female nurse said, gesturing over to the waiting-area couches nearby. A television set mounted on the wall was tuned to a news channel.
As soon as the two nurses were occupied with Liz, Maria nudged the computer monitor and quickly scanned the screen. Bingo. The information she needed was there. She moved around the desk and, in a plaintive wail, asked, "Where's the bathroom? I really have to tinkle. “
The female nurse called out to her. "It's around the desk, to the right and down the corridor. “
"Thanks," Maria said. "I'll be right back. “
Behind her, she heard the male nurse ask Liz if she had been drinking tonight. Maria moved quickly down the corridor, and as she neared a unisex bathroom, she saw the door creak open. Max was inside, with the lights turned out. "You scared me!" Maria said.
"Sorry," Max responded. "Best place to hide. “
Maria sneaked a quick look down the hall and closed the door behind her. "Okay. The critical care ward is on this floor, just down the next hallway. You want the rooms of Shania Cameron and Denise Dobbs. I think they're in 120 and 126. Check the charts to be sure. “
"Good work," Max said. "How much time do I have? And is anyone else around? “
"There's one nurse doing rounds, but she went up in the elevator. I think you're okay for a bit. Liz and I will distract them for a few minutes more, and then it's Isabel and Kyle's turn. “
Max opened the door and peered around the frame.
"Good luck," Maria whispered as he moved quickly down the hall.
As Max jogged down the darkened hospital corridor, he could feel the pain around him. He wasn't generally any more empathic than humans, but his sensitivity always kicked in the strongest whenever he was in a hospital. And in the last few years, he had been in hospitals far too many times.
Growing up, he and Isabel hadn't often been sick, so they had rarely needed medical attention. The Evanses had just thought they'd adopted extraordinarily healthy children. Little did they know at the time that the emphasis should have been on the word extraordinarily.
But Liz had changed all that. Since sharing for the first time with a nonalien the secrets of his past and present, Max had been involved in medical emergencies and traumas at least half a dozen times. Sometimes he had used his powers to heal, and other times he hadn't. But everything changed during Christmas 2000, when he hadn't used his powers to save the life of John Littlefield, a young father. Littlefields ghost had haunted Max, telling him to "restore the balance." At the time, he took it to mean the balance of one man's life for the children, but he finally understood that the use of his innate powers was a gift he could give others; it was healing and positive, in stark contrast with his other, more offensive powers. That was the balance.
Still, the others were right to be concerned about the aftereffects of his healing powers. Liz had indeed inherited something from him, and it now appeared that Kyle was developing extra-normal powers as well. What exactly would happen to the ward full of children whom he had healed in Phoenix that Christmas? What was going to happen to Jim Valenti? Max found Room 120 and checked the chart on the door. It read DENISE DOBBS, the name Maria had given him. He moved toward her in the dim light of the room, shuddering momentarily at the sight of the various medical machines to which the woman was connected. They looked so invasive, and yet he knew they were keeping her alive. Still, his mind flashed briefly to the White Room and Agent Pierce, who had intended to take him apart surgically, piece by piece. Shuddering, he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand, and took notice of the readings on a few of the machines.
Since it didn't have the clip-on finger monitor attached, Max took Denise's left hand in his. Pressing her hand between his palms, he concentrated. A silver glow emanated through his hand and down her arm; in moments, it suffused her chest, then her neck and head. Max focused… And saw a large man scooping to pick him up, a smile on his wide, craggy, bearded face… A dark-haired man in a wheelchair, dressed in a tuxedo, putting a wedding ring on his finger… A nurse holding twin babies, still mottled pink-and-red… His hands setting onto a gleaming desktop with a nameplate that read DENISE DOBBS, VICE PRESIDENT OF MARKETING… The black sedan careening toward them in the intersection, with no time to stop, no choice but to throw his arm to the side to protect his daughter in the front seat… And then Max was back in his own mind and body. He released the woman's hand and let it drop to the bed, where her fingers twitched slightly. In the dim light, they retained a visible trace of his glowing silver energies.
Max looked at the machines and was gratified to see that the signals had gotten stronger and louder. And while bruises and contusions were still very visible on her face and arm, the woman's breathing didn't seem nearly as labored.
Staggering slightly, Max moved around the bed and toward the door. One down, one to go, he thought.
Room 126 was two rooms down, and Max again checked the charts to be certain he was in the correct place. "Shania Janet Cameron." This was the right room, but the door to this one was already open.
Max stepped in and closed the door behind him. The room was much like the other had been, except that there was a bag and some personal effects near a bedside chair. The girl in the bed was less externally bruised than the Dobbs woman had been, but Max could sense that her internal traumas were far worse.
She appeared to be sixteen or so, about the age Liz had been when he'd saved her at the Crashdown. He took her hand, as he had done with Denise Dobbs, and began sending his energy outward, his own limb the conduit.
As his mind reached out to link with the girl's, Max was surprised to find himself seeing not flashes of her life, but instead seeing himself inserted into some kind of static, stable mental setting. He was in a grand cathedral or temple of some sort, wooden pews stretching out nearly to infinity in front of him and behind him. Ornate stained-glass windows arced high above, raining multicolored light down on him as if he were in a kaleidoscope.
Near the front of the cathedral a girl knelt in prayer. What she faced, though, was not a crucified figure of Christ in agony, but a smiling, comforting statue of Jesus, his arms outstretched and his robes swirling about him.
As Max approached, the girl turned. He was startled to see that it was Shania, the girl in the hospital bed. The girl he was healing even now. Max couldn't recall a time when he had seen a manifestation of the person he was healing while he was doing so; usually, he saw through their eyes.
"I'm not ready to go," Shania said, her tone slightly defiant. "There are a lot of things I haven't done yet. “
Max knelt next to her. "I'm not here to take you away, Shania," he said softly. "I'm here to take you back. “
"Back? “
"Back to life. Back to reality," Max said, holding out his hand toward her.