"Maybe we should see if we can come up with something better," Liz suggested.
"We already know we can't," Isabel said sharply. "We've gone over every possibility a million times."
Adam didn't say anything. It didn't matter to him one way or the other. He didn't need a plan to know what needed to be done in the compound.
"Isabel's right," Max said. "Let's just use the drive to get focused."
Adam leaned his head against the roll bar and tried to take in every detail about the town as they drove through. If things went wrong, he wanted a lot of real things to remember.
Then he realized that wasn't true. He didn't need a lot of things. He needed one thing. If he ended up locked in the compound again, he wanted to be able to remember every single detail of Liz's face. He turned and studied her, trying to memorize the curve of her upper lip, the exact color of her eyes, the way her hair tumbled alongside her cheek. He stared at her until he was sure he'd never forget even one of her eyelashes, then he closed his eyes.
Max said they should get focused, and he was right. Adam tried to picture himself walking into the compound, feeling unafraid.
Will I see… Daddy? The thought slammed through his brain.
Sheriff Valenti, Adam told himself. He isn't your father. He's nothing to you. You cannot let him stop you from doing what you need to do. You can't let anything stop you.
"You want to finish our game of truth or dare, Mickey?" Cameron asked.
Today's the day, she promised herself. Today is the day I get the names Valenti wants and get out of here. Pretending to be Michael's friend while she was getting ready to screw him over was eating her guts out. She had to cut to the chase.
"How do you know when you've finished a game, anyway?" Michael asked. "There are no points. No one wins or anything."
"Someone loses, though," Cameron answered. "Every game of truth or dare I've ever played, someone breaks down crying. And that pretty much ends the game."
"Brutal," Michael said.
You don't know the half of it.
"Okay, it was my turn," Cameron said. "How did you know you were an alien? Truth or dare."
There, that should get this going in the right direction. Unless Michael chose a dare. Maybe this whole truth-or-dare ploy was a mistake.
"Basically I just started realizing I could do things that most people around me couldn't," Michael answered. "Then later I saw pictures of some pieces of metal found around the crash site after the Roswell Incident. The symbols on them matched a few of the symbols from my incubation pod, so that's how I started figuring out the truth."
"So the Roswell Incident really happened?" Cameron asked. "I thought it was just a way for the town to sell a bunch of T-shirts and, you know, alien pinatas."
I can't believe we're sitting here talking about the Roswell Incident. This whole thing has got to be a joke, she thought. Or some kind of weird test.
Yeah, that made sense, actually. Maybe Michael was an actor, and Valenti and that doctor were monitoring her reactions to him, trying to see if she'd really accept what Michael told her as real.
A test. Of course. That had to be it. Cameron felt herself relax a little. If this was all just a test, then it didn't matter if she gave Valenti the information he wanted once she managed to get it. It's not like he'd round up a bunch of Michael's actor friends and throw them in the compound. No, they'd just bring in the next test subject, and Michael would go through his whole act again while Valenti and the doctor made notes.
"It really happened," Michael answered.
"So, are you really, like, more than fifty years old?" she asked. Let's see how you answer that, actor boy, she thought.
"What, you don't like older guys?" Michael asked, then he shoved his fingers through his spiky black hair. "I actually didn't break out of my pod until about ten years ago. I looked like I was about a seven-year-old kid. So, you tell me how old I am."
He's not lying, Cameron thought.
You wanted him to be lying, so you told yourself he was, she thought. That way you wouldn't have to think about your own lies.
"It's your turn," she told Michael. She had to keep the game moving so she could find out what she needed to know. If she didn't do it fast, she wasn't sure she'd end up being able to do it at all.
"The other day, you knew I was going to kiss you and you pulled away. Why? Truth or dare," Michael said, his gray eyes intense.
"Truth," Cameron answered. "I know if you touch people, you can read their thoughts, and I didn't want you to read mine."
"It's not thoughts, exactly-more like pictures, pieces of memories," Michael answered. "And I wouldn't have."
"It doesn't just happen automatically?" Cameron asked.
"Nope. Does yours?"
"Mine?" Cameron forgot for a second she was supposed to have telepathic powers. "No, uh, I have to decide to use my juice."
"So is that the only reason you pulled away?" Michael asked.
If I say yes, he's going to want to kiss me, Cameron thought. And if he kissed her, she didn't know if she'd be able to finish her little spying assignment.
So say no, she told herself. Say that there's another reason you pulled away. Say you have a boyfriend. Say you have a headache. Say something.
"Yes," Cameron said.
Michael leaned toward her. You can still stop this, Cameron thought. Just pull away again. Kissing him is the worst possible thing you could do.
She reached out, ran her fingers through his hair, and gently pulled his mouth down to hers. And for a long moment she forgot everything but the taste of him.
Then she pulled away. This was it. This was the moment where he was going to be the most open. She could feel it.
"I never thought anyone who knew what a total freak I am would want to kiss me," she said. She wasn't even going to have to ask him anything directly. He was going to tell her everything all on his own.
"You've never met anyone else who's… like you?" Michael asked.
"No," Cameron answered. Her stomach twisted itself into a knot. She ignored the pain.
"I had it so much easier than you did," Michael said.
Bring it to me, Cameron thought.
"I had Max and Isabel. They're… like me," he continued. "Their parents aren't. They don't know the truth at all. But the Evanses are great. They even call me their other son."
Game over. Those were the names she needed. Cameron's stomach cramped again.
"Are you okay?" Michael asked.
"No… no," Cameron said slowly. She added, "Actually, I'm sort of nauseous," she answered. "I'm going to see if the guard can get me some antacid or something."
Cameron shoved herself to her feet and knocked on the door. "I'm feeling sort of sick," she told the guard who opened it.
"Come with me," he said.
"We'll finish our game later when you're feeling better," Michael called.
"Okay," she answered, without looking back. She didn't want a last look. She had plenty to torture herself with already. She kept her eyes locked on the guards back as he marched her to Valenti's office.
"I want five thousand dollars, and I want you to tell my parents that I'm heading to New York," Cameron announced the second she sat down in the chair across from Valenti's desk. She didn't want to give herself any time for second thoughts.
"While you'll be trotting off to California, I suppose," Valenti answered.