Chapter Three: Reaction
"What the hell does my dad have to do with this?" Kyle cried. Tess put her hand on his arm to calm him. "We better call him," Max said, "do you want to do it?" Kyle sighed angrily and reached for the phone. He noticed his fingers shaking as he dialled the number. Four rings later, he heard his father's voice. "Dad? Yeah, it's me. We just got that guy Larek's letter." "I wish we had speaker phone," Alex muttered. Maria smirked. They watched Kyle carry on a one-sided conversation with his father. After a few minutes, he dropped the phone back into its handle. "Well?" Michael asked impatiently, "what's going on? What'd he say?" Kyle shoved his hands in his pockets. "Larek's dead," he said softly, "just yesterday." Max closed his eyes and rubbed his temple, feeling grief over the loss of both his old friend and Brody. "What else?" he asked, his voice strained. Kyle lifted his head, his eyes apologetic, and even a little panicked. "Liz," he murmured, "your dad is showing signs of the disease."
"No," she whispered, backing away from the group, "no. Oh god. No." Max caught her around the waist and eased her head to his shoulder. Isabel clutched Alex tighter. "So, it affects all of us. Aliens and humans." Michael jumped up, running his hands through his hair. "This is just great!" he shouted, "what the hell are we supposed to do now?!" Maria held a hand to her throat, not even attempting to calm her boyfriend. "God," she whispered, "what if everyone in Roswell is already affected? I mean, if Liz's dad …" "Just stop, okay?" Liz interrupted harshly, "I can't hear this right now." She marched out of the living room. A few seconds later, they heard the slamming of her door.
**
Valenti knelt over the body of Brody Davis. Or Larek – whoever he was now. He supposed it didn't really matter. The body was dead. Of an alien virus. God, what were they going to do? He didn't even know how to dispose of the body; what if they needed it for research? Kyle sounded upset on the phone, and he had every right to be. It's always something with the aliens. Now it's a deadly plague of unknown origins that could potentially wipe out the entire human race. What's worse, they couldn't tell anyone about it, and they have no means of treatment. Poor Jeff Parker. The rash was already showing on his face and arms. He had been to a doctor, who was at a loss as to a diagnosis. Said that it was an unknown virus. If they only knew how true that statement was.
**
Max opened the door and peered his head inside, expecting to find Liz crying on the bed. He was surprised to find her throwing things into a suitcase. "What do you think you're doing?" he accused. She didn't look at him. "I'm going home," she told him, "don't try to stop me." Max grabbed her arm, forcing her to look at him. "Like hell you're going home. You can't go back to Roswell. None of us can." She pulled herself away. "Max, would you listen to yourself? We can't let this plague spread. We have to find a way to stop it." She looked down, speaking more softly, "I can't let my father die." Max sighed, gripping her arms and pulling her in for a hug. "And what about your safety?" he wondered, "I won't risk losing you. Not again." She rubbed her face in his shirt. "I know all about research and disease," she assured him, her voice muffled, "it's all I've been studying for the past two years. I can help." He squeezed his eyes shut, unconsciously holding her tighter. She was so stubborn. "Alright," he relented, "but I'm coming with you."