Alex leaned forward, holding his father's gaze.
"I can't let her die, Dad. She's part of my unit or my squad or whatever I should be calling it." He wished he'd paid a little more attention when his dad and brothers got into one of their military conversations. "I'm responsible for her."
Alex's father didn't answer for a long moment, and Alex wasn't sure if this was a good sign or a bad one. His father was impossible to read.
"Dad, she's really sick," he started again. "She's going through something called the-"
"I don't need to know the details," the Major interrupted. He stood up, pulled a key out of his pocket, and set it precisely in the middle of the desk. "You probably don't know that I have a safe behind the family portrait."
He strode around the desk, clapped Alex on the shoulder, then headed for the door. "Good night, son." Then he glanced back quickly. "Good luck."
Alex waited until he heard the door click closed, then he picked up the key. "Thanks, Dad," he said into the empty room, studying the key. "I'm going to need it."
TWELVE
Relax, damn it. Just relax, Michael ordered himself. He needed to enter the dream plane. It was his only shot of finding Trevor, but he was too tense to concentrate. When he closed his eyes, the sound of Isabel's tortured breathing seemed to get louder until it filled the room. Her breaths were coming farther apart, so there were these heart-stopping moments of silence when Michael kept thinking Isabel had died.
Which was the big reason he couldn't remotely relax. Relax, hell, he could hardly stop himself from shoving his fist through the wall or ripping his hair out in bloody clumps. Isabel was dying. Isabel was dying. Isabel was dying. The thought flashed through his mind again and again, like a blinking neon billboard.
I need Maria. The realization surprised him, sneaking in between two of the Isabel-is-dying thoughts. But it was true. Maria could get him in the right mental state to enter the dream plane. She'd done it before.
Michael shoved his hands behind his head so he wouldn't be tempted to pick up the phone and dial Maria's number. It was too dangerous to call her. He was so close to breaking his promise to Isabel as it was, so close to teleporting to get the crystals and forcing them into her hand.
Yeah, it would be a walking, breathing nightmare to be connected to the consciousness. But at least Isabel would be alive, and as long as she was alive, there was hope, hope that maybe somehow they'd figure out how to break her-and Max-out of the connection.
He turned his head and glanced at Isabel. Her eyes were slitted open, and she was staring back at him. Her lips parted as she strained to say something.
"Tre… vor," she gasped.
"I'm going to find him," Michael promised her. He closed his eyes again.
What had Maria done that time he needed to get to the dream plane and couldn't? Michael let his mind go back to that night. First she'd made him smell some flower oil-lavender, he thought. It didn't do a thing except make his nose itch.
But then she'd talked to him. Just talked in a low, soft voice. Something about drawing everything with a purple crayon when she was a little girl.
Michael tried to imagine Maria was sitting next to him right there in the fleabag motel in Hobbs, talking to him. Gradually the sound of Isabel's ragged breathing faded into the background, overpowered by the imaginary Maria voice. A few minutes later Michael slipped into the dream plane.
The dream orbs whirled around him, glimmering with iridescent colors. Michael had never seen Trevor's dream orb. He didn't know what its music sounded like.
"So how am I supposed to find it?" he muttered, frustration slashing through him. The dream orbs started to fade when he distracted himself, and Michael quickly tightened his concentration on them, then began to hum the low note his own dream orb made. Trevor was his brother, however much Michael hated that fact. Maybe his dream orb was similar enough to Michael's that it would respond to the sound.
In the distance Michael saw a metallic gray orb moving toward him. The other orbs spun out of its way as it picked up speed, flying faster and faster. Michael jerked to the left too late-the orb whacked him on the side of the head and knocked him on his butt.
It doubled in size, without any prompting from Michael, and hovered above him, emitting a deep, resonating note of music. Michael had never seen a dream orb behave the way this one just had, and that made him pretty sure he'd found the one he was looking for. It made sense that Trevor's orb would be unlike that of anyone born on Earth.
Michael bent back his legs and kicked the orb with both feet so he could scramble out from under it. Immediately he tried to step through its wall. But it wasn't permeable the way other dream orbs were. Michael took a few steps back and lunged at it, trying to force himself inside. No dice.
Isabel didn't have a lot of time left. Michael had to find a way to break into the orb-now. He circled it, looking for any sign of weakness in its smooth walls. Nothing. He let out his breath with a hiss and circled the orb again.
He noticed it turning an opaque, smoky gray and stopped to figure out what was going on. He could see something moving inside, but he couldn't make out exactly what it was. He gave the wall a poke with one finger. Still as strong as steel.
The orb grew clearer and clearer until its walls were like untinted glass. Trevor stood in the center of the orb and locked eyes with Michael, but he didn't make a move. All he did was raise a curious eyebrow.
Isn't he going to let me in? Michael thought, clenching his hands into fists. It didn't look that way. Trevor just kept staring at him.
Okay, he wants me to beg, I'll beg, Michael thought. He cupped his hands around his mouth.
"I need to talk to you," he shouted. "Please!"
Trevor didn't reply for a long moment, then he reached through the wall of the orb and pulled Michael inside, the wall suddenly as soft as a soap bubble.
"Okay, talk," Trevor ordered.
Michael wasn't crazy about the guy's tone. Especially since Trevor was the one who'd done all the lying. But he pushed aside his anger. It was not the time.
"It's Isabel," he told his brother. "She's going through her akino. She doesn't want to join the consciousness-"
"Don't let anybody force her," Trevor interrupted, his gray eyes darkening.
"I won't. I promised her I wouldn't," Michael answered. "But-" The words were harder to say than he thought they should be.
"But what?" Trevor asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
Michael was sure that Trevor knew what he wanted to ask. Clearly his brother was going to make him actually spit it out. Fine. He could swallow his pride. For Isabel's sake.
"We-I mean I… I need your help," Michael admitted.
"Do you think we should try to bring Max out of the connection?" Adam asked. He and Liz sat side by side on his living-room floor, leaning against the wall, their fingers still laced together.
Liz shook her head. "Let's leave him in the kitchen. Right now there's nothing for any of us to do but wait."
Adam shifted the tiniest bit so that his shoulder was just touching hers. Liz didn't pull away. But he wasn't sure if that was because she hadn't noticed or because she liked it. Or because she was just tolerating it to be nice to the mole boy.
"Hey, Adam. You know what you were saying the other day-about the consciousness not sounding so bad because you'd never be alone?" Liz asked.
"Uh-huh," he said, savoring the way the heat from her shoulder soaked into his. It felt like Liz's body was about ten degrees wanner than his was, but he knew that couldn't be possible. It was just that everything about Liz affected him in a magnified way. All she had to do was smile at him, and it was like he'd been set free from the compound all over again.