"Altered Time- Destiny in the Stars"

The White Room… Again

Chapter 6

VI

Michael woke up suddenly. He was covered in sweat. How many times had he dreamed this dream? How many more times would he dream it before he would be free? Maybe he would never be free. But if there was any hope at all, it lay in this journey that he and Max were undertaking. Michael decided to take a quick shower, then he returned to the control room.

"Those dreams again?"

"Yeah."

Max had always been able to read Michael like an open book. If it were anyone else, Michael would be seriously concerned… and seriously annoyed. But he had learned to accept this from Max.

"Which one?"

"When Nicholas set us up and Valenti got it and you and Liz disappeared…"

Max's heart quickened; he grimaced.

"I'm gonna get a cup of coffee," said Michael. "You want one, too?"

"Yeah, sure. I'd like that, Michael. Thanks!"

Michael left and went to the galley to get the coffees. Max stared out the control room window into deep space, but his mind wasn't seeing the stars. He was remembering that day, the worst day of his life…

… … … … … Max had regained consciousness slowly. His head was killing him. That wasn't surprising, considering that the back of his head had been deeply grazed by a bullet fired from one of the agent's guns. He almost certainly had suffered a concussion. He wondered how long he had been unconscious. To add to his pain, his back was peppered with some stray buckshot from the blast that had killed Sheriff Valenti. Max realized that someone had removed all his clothes. He tried to get up but found that his arms, legs, and body were strapped down. He looked around him. Then he laid his head back down on the gurney and groaned. He recognized this room. He had been here once before. It had not been a pleasant experience.


The door opened… a technician entered pushing another gurney… something covered with a white sheet, except the sheet wasn't white… it was bloodstained. Max looked away. The technician left, and a special ops agent came in. Max recognized him. It was Dumas Zwolinski. Agent Zwolinski had pursued the Roswell trio since, well, since Pierce had "disappeared." They didn't know Zwolinski was even still in special ops.

"It's been a while," Zwolinski said smugly, looking as satisfied as a cat holding a mouse by the tail, "Too long, I'd say. But that's alright. Everything comes to those who wait. You're mine now, and I'm going to enjoy taking that alien body of yours apart piece by piece. Don't worry, though! I'll let you watch! We'll find out everything there is to know about you. You see, some of us here are patriots, and we don't especially care for alien garbage.

You know, I could have retired three years ago! Yeah! That's right! Full pension… everything. I could be sittin' in some nice bar in Baja with some cute little Mexican señorita… or dancin' with the hula girls on Maui… or lyin' on a beach drinkin' a beer in Tahiti. But I'm not. Want to know why? Because of you! That's right! Yeah! You! Somebody had to save this country. Somebody had to save the world.

The president… he's a dimwit… just like all the people around him. But there are a few of us who are patriots… Real patriots!… the kind who stay until they get the job done… whatever it takes… until all the trash is bagged up, booted out to the curb, and dispatched to the dump. You see, boy, that's what you're lookin' at… a real patriot!"

Max grimaced and looked toward the wall. The technician came back and wheeled Max into the operating room. Max noticed that the room had been heavily damaged and things appeared to have been put back in place hurriedly. There were large scorch marks on two walls, and some equipment had been destroyed by what appeared to be some kind of blasts. Above Max was a mechanical arm-like gizmo with a small, rotating saw at the end of it. On the table beside him were a number of scalpels of different sizes and shapes. At the foot of the gurney was some kind of reciprocating saw… and a powerful taser gun. He also noticed an X-ray machine and various other specialized pieces of equipment. Much of it, Max had never seen before. One machine had what appeared to be an arm bone held between two clamps. On a table by the far wall were various large jars containing organs in alcohol or formaldehyde… a heart, a liver, lungs… a hand?" Max shut his eyes and shuddered involuntarily. He turned back toward Agent Zwolinski, who was installing a new rotating blade in the saw arm. "The other one got a little dull this morning," Zwolinski commented dryly. Max knew that, barring a miracle, his organs and bones would be in similar jars and machines very soon, just a few new trophies for some rogue perverts in uniforms.

Agent Zwolinski centered Max's gurney under the saw blade and turned on the saw. It sounded like a dentist's drill. Max shuddered again. Zwolinski motioned to the technician to leave. The technician, who had been extremely nervous, seemed oddly relieved and quick to comply. Then Zwolinski began to lower the saw. As he did, he felt compelled, somehow, to explain to Max just what it was he was going to do to him. "This saw will open you up from the collar bone down to your belly button. You do have a belly button, don't you?" Zwolinski glanced at Max's naked body on the gurney. "Yeah, I guess they gave you one; didn't want you to look different." As Zwolinski lowered the blade to Max's chest, Max turned his right hand over so that it was palm up, but he discovered that his hands had been heavily wrapped and bound in asbestos. He would not be able to use them to blast Zwolinski with a power wave.

Suddenly, the room exploded with a blinding bright light, and the ceiling collapsed inward into the room from the force. Max looked up at a gaping hole where the ceiling had been only a moment before. A face was looking down from the roof. It was Michael… and Kyle was with him!

Agent Zwolinski, who had been knocked to the ground by the implosion, jumped to his feet and made a dash for his gun, which was in his uniform on the table by the wall. Michael didn't give him time to get there. A strong bolt of energy smashed Zwolinski against the wall. Max heard several bones break, then Zwolinski crashed hard to the floor. He would not be rising again without a lot of help. Michael leapt from the roof into the room with Max, and Kyle followed him in. Someone else was coming in, too… It was Maria.

Michael released Max from his constraints, and Max had just managed to wrap a white sheet around himself when Maria appeared through the opening, dropping through the hole as nimbly as had Michael and Kyle. Michael was impressed, but he wouldn't have admitted it. Maria looked around the room. Michael and Kyle were busy preparing the knotted rope that they had dropped through the hole in the roof to climb back out with, when Kyle heard a muffled sound, like a gasp or a sob.

"Where did Maria go?" Michael asked.

They all ran into the room Max had been held in when he was still unconscious… before he was brought into the operating room. Maria stood over the other gurney, holding the bloodstained sheet in her hand. Her face was contorted, pained, colorless; then it went to bright red and finally dark ashen. Tears were flowing freely, like waterfalls, down her cheeks.

"Bastards! Stupid, bloody, dog-eating bastards!" Maria sobbed, as loudly as she was able, but she could barely speak. Then she sat down on the floor, cupped her hands over her face, and sobbed convulsively. All the color had gone out of Max's face, too. He put his hand against the wall to steady himself, because he felt sick to his stomach and dizzy. Kyle stood motionless, as though struck by lightning, then quickly left the room. Michael came in holding one of the large jars in his hands. He was pale. He put his hand on Max's shoulder and spoke quietly, "I'm sorry, Max. I'm just… so sorry, you don't know."

Max took the jar from Michael and read the hand-scrawled label, "heart, female, L. Parker Evans, Determination: human-alien hybrid."


-------------------End of Chapter 6