"He went somewhere with Michael," Max said. "We were wondering where."
Kyle shook his head. "Couldn't tell you."
Quinlann glanced at his watch, then said, "I got a couple phone calls to make, kid. You'll be in good hands with your friends till I get back?"
"Sure," Kyle said. "Why don't you go ahead back to work? I'm going to be fine."
Quinlann shook his head. "I'm old-fashioned. I always go home with the ones I brought to the dance. I brought you in here, I'll see you out and home."
Kyle waited till Quinlann was out of earshot. He lowered his voice. "So what's going on?"
Liz shook her head.
"We don't know," Max said. "Whatever it is, it's going on out at the Mesaliko reservation even worse than here."
Kyle couldn't believe that. "The ghosts are real. I saw one."
"Did you see this one?" Max asked.
"No," Kyle said. "But I have seen them. They're really out there."
"I know," Max said. "I've seen them."
"More than one?"
"Yeah."
Kyle thought about it. "Did you see this one?"
Max nodded.
"How?" Kyle asked. "I didn't see it."
"I don't know. But they want us out of Roswell."
"What makes you think that?" Kyle asked.
"They've told me. And they told Isabel as well."
The statement, delivered so matter-of-factly by Max, chilled Kyle. If something was there in Roswell and was after the alien trio again, then the chance existed that he and his dad would get sucked up into the situation again.
The lights came back on inside the emergency room.
"So what are you guys doing about it?" Kyle asked.
Max shrugged. "We don't know what to do. We're getting together later at Michael's to sort things out."
"What about my dad?"
Max shrugged. "All we know is that Maria said he was with Michael. Michael knows about the meeting at his house. Maybe your dad will be there."
"Neither one of them is particularly notorious for checking in." Feeling the pain burn along his injured arm, Kyle leaned back against the bed and elevated the limb.
Max looked around, then back at Kyle. "If we weren't here, I could fix your arm."
"I'm going to have to get stitches," Kyle admitted. "I'm not happy. Believe me when I say that if you could heal me without my having to answer a bunch of questions, I'd be all for it."
"I don't mean to cut this short," Liz said, "but I've got to get back to the Crashdown."
Max looked uncomfortably at Kyle. "I'm her ride. After I drop her off, I can come back."
Kyle shook his head and waved the offer away. "It's cool. My boss is going to stick around and get me home."
After brief hesitation, Max said, "If your dad knew you were here, he'd be here."
"I know," Kyle said, but the answer was automatic, not even close to the confusion that he truly felt. His relationship with his dad had always been hard because his dad
had held such high expectations for him. Now with his professional life in chaos around him, his dad didn't seem able to fight back, or to demand the same high standards he'd exacted.
After Liz and Max said their good-byes, Kyle blew his breath out and tried to block the pain from his arm. He closed his eyes, blowing his breath out again, then breathing in through his nose the way his football coach had taught him to control pain and regain his focus. The exercise had worked in the past, but the results at the moment weren't worth mentioning.
Suddenly the firm surface of the hospital bed seemed far away, like the bed was supporting someone else's body. Disorientation made his head swim, almost triggering a bout of nausea.
You know the Outsiders, a clear, cold voice accused. They are your friends, Kyle Valenti. Don't you know that you should fear that which is different?
That would be the whole high school, Kyle thought.
Don't trust the Outsiders, the voice went on. They are not like you. They don't have the same agenda that your people do. You can't trust anyone outside your own species.
Kyle struggled to wake but couldn't. Then pain flamed along his injured arm. He groaned, and found he was suddenly able to move again. Blinking his eyes open, he spotted the silver thing on the wall behind the bed. He had a brief impression of wire-thin tentacles and an oblong body the size of a quarter. Soundlessly, the insect-thing spread diaphanous wings that resembled see-through aluminum foil. The thing hurled itself into the air and sped away, glinting occasionally under the lights of the emergency room.
Pain flared in Kyle's arm again, drawing his attention down in time to watch Dr. Bohr shove a hypodermic into his forearm again. The impersonal pressure of the anesthetic filled his arm, turning the limb numb. At the same time, his mind seemed to clear as if a cloud had lifted.
"This is going to sting a bit," Dr. Bohr said. "Sorry. 1 thought you were asleep."
"Not asleep now." Kyle looked up at the wall over his bed. The silver thing with wire-thin limbs seemed to have disappeared. Hallucination, he told himself. That's all it is.
But he was scared that it hadn't been.
15
Winded and tired, mind racing with the knowledge of all the things that were taking place back in the Mesaliko town, River Dog halted his journey up the side of the tall hill. From where he stood, he could see the lights of the houses back in his village. Darkness had fallen only moments ago, scattering shadows across the desert that would only turn gray when the moon burned in full.
The wind had started to change as he neared his destination, blowing out the last of the diurnal heat and bringing in the first of the nocturnal chill that filled the desert at night. River Dog pulled the ceremonial robe he wore more tightly about his body.
The lights in the town were dim, only a mere handful compared with what was usually there. Many of the Mesaliko people had left, gone to stay with relatives and friends in other cities and reservations. After Max Evans had left, the power of the spirits had seemed to dwindle. No longer could the spirits make physical contact with the Mesaliko, but they appeared and disappeared with unnerving timing. They also shouted and raved, talking against the Visitors, ordering the Mesaliko to drive the Visitors from their midst, and from Roswell.
Resolutely, River Dog turned and continued his journey back up the hill. His eyes followed the whip-crack trail barely noticeable against the rugged rocks and scrubby cacti. The knoll and the cave it hid were less than fifty yards away.
River Dog leaned into the climb, putting more weight on the walking stick he used. The backs of his legs burned with fatigue, but he never hesitated in his assault upon the hill.
He had told Max Evans the truth when he'd said he hadn't known the location of the place where the Sun God had punished his ancestors and Raven. Rather than stay within the village for the spirits of his ancestors to haunt, he'd chosen to journey to one of his places of power. The cave was one of those places.
Sometime in the middle of his next step, a spirit materialized beside him, matching the step with ease, as if it had been there all along. The spirit was a wizened old man.
"River Dog," the spirit said, and his voice sounded frail and weak.
"I do not know you," River Dog said. He never broke his stride, putting one foot in front of the other as he continued the climb to the cave.
"I am called Hunts with Owls," the ancient one said. "I was once medicine man to our people."
River Dog looked at the spirit's leathery face, taking in the intricate woven beads of his leathers and the tiny bone carvings of owls that held back his hair braids. The eyes
gaped like black holes in the shadows, but River Dog felt the heat of the spirit's gaze.