Part 14
Michael watched, his face impassive, as the mourning father threatened the source of his son's possible death with the deadly firearm gripped in his hand. At the mention of the word 'bodies' Jim had instinctively reacted, falling to his knees on the stained linoleum before the quivering body of the most weak-spirited person Michael had ever met. He didn't show any reaction himself as Jim interrogated Jasper who was again sobbing openly. Strangely, he didn't feel any emotion at all when the torturer revealed that Kivar had killed people at his makeshift prison, in fact, he'd almost expected it. He didn't think the victims were comprised of the five Roswell teens, and even if they were, his heart had seen too much pain in recent years to react to their fresh deaths now.
"I swear to God I will end you…" Jim said as Michael continued to hold his stonewall stance before the two men.
"No don't… don't please…" the pathetic excuse for a human begged. "I don't know their names… they were hired to look after the patients… like me. They tried to leave… quit… but he wouldn't let them. He doesn't let anyone leave."
"And who's he?" Jim asked.
"Kivar," Michael answered. "Kivar killed them."
As he answered the relieved father, his mind was already moving past the coldness of Kivar's actions to plans of how he was going to kill the self-proclaimed Antarian King… again. After meeting Jasper, Michael knew with certainty that it was Kivar who directed the actions of the medical technician, the sputtering man on the floor before him did not possess the hardened heart to inflict the damage he was responsible for on his own. It took the heavy hand of a truly soulless being to force innocent citizens to harm a fellow human. Granted, the five current captives weren't exactly human, but they were people, people with lives, and to have all of that taken away by the greed of one maniacal fanatic was malevolence in its purest form.
Now Michael stared down at the key to their gaining entry into the hidden sanctuary of Kivar and scoffed visibly. No matter what resolve he possessed himself, the success of their approaching mission depended on the stability of Jasper Davies, something highly questionable at this point. He poked the whimpering man sharply with his foot, barking at him, "Get up. You're going to take us to this hospital place and get us inside."
"M…m… m… me?"
"Yes, y… y… y… you," he replied. "Now come on," he prodded, stepping away as Jasper reached up a hand for help. Distanced, Michael watched as the bedraggled weakling struggled to his feet and stood before the two men for further instruction.
"Well, go get your keys," Jim prompted, nudging him into action with the tip of the gun still held in his hand.
Jasper hurried across the living room, as Michael looked at the stain left behind from his earlier loss of bladder control. "And for God's sake…" he called after him. "Change your pants!"
~~~~~
"For an evil overlord, Kivar has pretty lax security," Jim observed as they walked steadily through the halls of the seemingly deserted hospital.
"Not lax, just not apparent," Michael mumbled.
They had driven up to the building in two vehicles, secluding the Range Rover in bushes on the side of the road and driving inside the underground parking garage in Jasper's tiny sh!tbox car. They had seen no appearance of any security measures outside of Jasper having to swipe a pass to open the garage doors, even the expected surveillance cameras, if present at all, were invisible to the trained eye of Sheriff Valenti.
The plan was to have Jasper lead them as far into the compound as possible without arising suspicion and if someone tried to stop them… well they'd decided to figure that out as they went along. Not exactly a great plan as plans went, but in this situation of uncountable unknowns, the objective was just to get as close to the teens as possible. Michael figured that they wouldn't have to look very hard for Kivar once inside, doubtlessly he would find them when ready.
Depending on Jasper for entry was still a point of contention for the rescuers as they placed their faith in the unstable man. They had just exited the car and were creeping stealthily across the cement floor of the garage when he first escaped their sight. Jim cursed as he watched Jasper scurry away from them, heading for a clearly marked exit door on the far wall of the concrete enclosure. Michael was just about to send a wave of energy coursing across the space to knock the man to the floor when Jasper stopped, turned, and shouted, "Come on guys, the door's this way!"
His voice reverberated off the metal jungle of automobiles parked in the crowded garage, causing both men to duck behind the nearest van in anticipation of discovery by the thus far invisible security team. Nothing happened as the hospital again revealed itself to have little, if no, security and Jim felt his confidence increase to the level needed to stride into an unknown situation with only a small firearm for defense.
Now, creeping along the hallway, he turned to Michael, mulling over his comment that the security was present, just unseen by them. "I don't get it," he whispered. "Why would he stand back and let us in?"
"Because…" the quiet alien murmured softly. "Why settle for five prisoners when you can have seven?"
The shocked look on Jim's face as he let the doubtless truth of Michael's words wash over him remained in place as they continued following Jasper down the empty hallway. The technician abruptly stopped in front of them and turned a corner, stopping at the mouth of a second corridor lined with doors on either side. He pointed to the first door on the right and turned to look at Michael, wordlessly betraying that this was where his duplicate self was kept.
"The others are here," he continued, pointing to the next two doors on the right side and first two on the left. "I don't know who's where."
"Well okay then," Jim said quietly, unsure if he could remain standing on two feet let alone set forth on their planned rescue mission as he anxiously wondered which door held his missing son behind it.
His hesitation was interrupted by footsteps echoing in the hallway they had just exited, resounding throughout the cement corridor shrilly. Michael reacted instinctively as the unseen person approached, pushing Jim against Jasper as he herded them both into the closest room—his room. He pushed the door closed and fastened the lock before turning to examine their surroundings. All breath left his chest as he watched Jim approach the bed slowly while Jasper stood dumbly in the center of the room, his head swiveling back and forth from one copy of Michael to the other. Slowly, he allowed his gaze to travel to the figure lying on the bed. What he saw sent a sharp jolt of reality screaming through his stomach as he realized quickly what room they had ventured into. The unconscious boy restrained before him was an exact replica of himself, albeit minus a few years and a whole lot of heartache. From his vantage point near the door, Michael couldn't see the facial expression on his other self, but recalled grimly that this time had been filled only with agony and turned his head away slightly, unwilling to relive the pain once more.
"I almost forgot you were young," Jim said breathlessly as he neared the still body. Taking a long look at the pale features, contorted in pain even as the boy lay untouched on the bed, Jim turned back to Jasper evilly. "You sick bastard," he growled. "How can look at yourself in the mirror?"
"You don't understand," he begged pitifully. "I don't have a choice, we don't have a choice. It's either do as he says or be killed!"
"As who says, this Kev-lar person again?"
"That would be Kivar."
Michael whirled around at the unexpected voice puncturing the thick emotions in the room. Kivar was bent over at the waist, his torso leaning into the room through the solid, steel door, his alien body obviously able to pass through without opening it. As he met Michael's eyes evenly, he stepped inside the locked room, straightening his immaculate gray suit as the door morphed into solidity behind him once again.
"You learned some new tricks," the defensive alien from Roswell said steadily.
"Among other things," Kivar responded. "You seem to have learned a few new things yourself."
"Not learned, just recalled," Michael stated, staring at the cold, black eyes of his captor for a long moment as he listened to the even sound of Jim's breathing mixed with the strangled gasps emitting from Jasper's throat behind him.
"So, you don't seem to have much security around here," Jim spoke up, breaking the tension once again. "How'd you find us?"
"Well," Kivar replied, shifting his gaze away from Michael's to focus intently on the now slightly trembling Sheriff's. "It's simple really—infrared beams, quite effective when their path is broken by unexpected intruders."
"Funny, I didn't take you as a gadget man," the seething father tossed back.
"Well, I may be a diabolical fiend," Kivar replied off-handedly, straightening his tie with a two-handed gesture. "But you just can't knock the benefits of modern technology. Now," he added quietly, turning his penetrating eyes back to Michael's. "You mind telling me what you are doing in this universe?"
"I think you know exactly what I'm doing here."
"Well, my plan is to bring you to Antar in another week, but I guess you already know that judging from your age."
"And I guess you don't know what happens there," Michael tossed back quickly.
"Trust me boy," Kivar snarled at the man who, in this version, was actually three years older than himself. "Whatever I had planned to do to you will be quadrupled this time around. However you escaped, you won't get the chance again, I'll end you both before I let that happen."
"And you won't get the chance to take us out of this room, I'll end you before I let that happen… again."
The obvious implication of Michael's words was not lost on the alien King who felt his already shaky sense of control over the present situation slip a few more notches. Without warning, he jumped into offensive action, raising both hands out in front of him to shoot satanic-red streams of energy towards the unexpecting enemy.
Michael was taken off guard by Kivar's sudden switch to attack-mode, the blast knocking him to the floor as the force wave washed over his unprepared body. His instinctive reaction to match fire with fire kicked in quickly, his own hands slowly moving outward from their compressed position against his chest as he pushed back the pulsing stream Kivar directed towards him.
The colors emanating from Michael's hands stood out in stark contract to the sharp tone of evil intent. Where Kivar's efforts were burning hot with red, copper and crimson, Michael shot clear, opulent green, blue and cobalt. The rainbow of colors between the two men was an awesome sight to witness, the anger on Kivar's face matched in the fiery rays escaping his palms, while Michael's calm reaction to the devil's anger mirrored itself in the cooling tones he produced.
The equivalent force of the two power houses buzzed for control over the other in the war zone between them as Michael climbed to his feet, his eyes, and efforts, never wavering from their task. In what felt like hours, but was in reality seconds, the battling forces finally ceded to one another, the sparks emitted when both force fields exploded towards the other a personal fireworks show for the two conscious observers in the room.
Kivar panted as he stared at the surprisingly unfazed Michael standing at the ready across from him. "Well, well, seems like you got your powers back. You can match me blow for blow, this should get interesting."
Michael ever so slowly reached up to run a steady hand through the stray stands of hair that had fallen forward into his eyes. "Yeah, interesting," he mimicked, lowering his arm into the firing position once more. Grinning sadistically at the source of his torture before him, he smirked slightly, "Good thing I was holding back."
Michael threw both arms out in front of him, directing the full power of his suppressed fury towards the creature, he didn't deserve the title of man, who had inflicted unspeakable suffering on him. The intensity of color leaving his hands was blinding as he focused only on the damaging waves he directed across the room. The color started as a shimmering cerulean at his fingertips, morphing into teal and aquamarine in the middle of the room, before bursting into living ribbons of emeralds where they struck the now helpless Antarian. The final force that would send his captor into the dark depths of hell was the color of the eyes that had always held hope for him. Even long after he had pushed them from his memory, one look into their depths again had brought him crashing back to the only love that had ever provided him a respite from the knowledge that he wasn't of the natural earth. That it was their color that manifested itself in his battle now was no accident; Michael relied on the resurrected memory of Maria to push him onward in his fight, not sure that he could triumph if he didn't keep her close to his heart.
Through sheer will, and a little muscle thanks to his alien powers, Michael pinned Kivar to the now solid door he had just entered through, encasing him in a glowing tomb of shimmering green light. Fighting back was not an option as the band of energy squeezed the life from the man who didn't deserve its spark, his eyes locking with Michael's for one final instant as he felt the cold hand of death enclose him.
No words left his lips as Michael watched the life force drain from his torturer, a satisfied smile spreading across them instead as Kivar's body was reduced to dust before him, just as his friend's bodies had in another existence that would now never occur.
As the final spray of alien matter settled to the floor, Michael turned around, triumphant and exhausted, his face full of excitement and overwhelming realization of what had just happened as he sought out Jim's eyes from across the room.
"We did it," he breathed softly.
"Um," Jim said slowly, his eyes leaving their brief rest on Michael's to travel to his chest.
The aged alien looked down at his body, surprised to find that he could see right through his form, his essence fading quickly as the factors that had created his presence were reversed, his torture, and very life, never happening.
"Tell Maria I love her," he murmured quietly, sinking to knees that were no longer there.
"I'm proud of you, son," Jim said quietly, walking up to place his hand on the place where the boy's shoulder once was. "And she will always know you loved her, I promise you that."
Michael smiled, his last moment in this world filled with an all-encompassing happiness as he knew that everything had been changed. He had stopped the tormented adventure from ever happening, the one goal he had returned to this earth to do. That he had stopped along the way to visit with Maria was a side-trip he was ever grateful for taking. It may have been a mistake, but seeing her, even in such a bad place, had given him the strength necessary to mount the attack against their captor.
Just as was once destined to happen so many years in the future, it was relying on strength she gave him that had allowed him to overthrow Kivar's power now. On Antar, it had only been when he allowed thoughts of her back into his brain that he had found the resolve necessary to attack the one thing separating him from her, squeezing his bare hands tightly around Kivar's neck, denying him the vital air supply to his lungs until he dissolved into dust. Now, he had killed the essence of evil again, proving himself a murderer once more and taking no shame in being labeled as such.
Through fast-fading eyes, Michael looked up at the image of himself positioned on the bed, his face seeming less pained with the threat of further harm removed. "You take care of her," he whispered to himself. "She gave you more than you will ever know and if you hurt her…"
Jim smiled as one version of the boy who felt like his second son lectured the second, something he had known would happen if they ever met face to face.
Michael's now nearly non-existent body sunk further to the floor as he struggled with a final goodbye to the one presence not visible, but still felt in the room. "Come back now," were his last words as he left the world he had never belonged in. "And love him…"
Jim watched as the figure of the man that had faced battles unknown by any of the people whose lives he had just sacrificed his own to save vanished, his body simply ceasing to exist in the world that already had a Michael Guerin; the boy who still lay unconscious on the bed, his hand gripped tightly around an unseen object, almost like a person was sitting by his side, holding his hand.
~~~~~
In the sleep-shrouded town of Roswell, New Mexico, Maria Deluca was unmoving in the imagined house of her making. If anyone could visit her there, they would have seen a girl standing all alone in an empty room, her arm extended just slightly as if she held the hand of another. In the reality known only to her, she bent over to place a feather-light kiss in the air near her hand, a small smile gracing her features as she turned away and walked across the creaking wood floors. She shut the door behind her for the last time, pausing for a brief moment to lay her hand on the surface in a silent goodbye to the unseen figure inside. Then, her smile growing with each step, she turned and headed down the stairs in a final passage, walking steadily through her kitchen to the doorway leading to the outside world. With a firm tug on the handle, she pulled it open and jumped just slightly with both feet, falling weightlessly back into the universe she had abandoned nearly a year before.
On the bed that her physical body had called a home for too long, blurry eyes blinked open, the limbs attached to the suddenly life-filled body moving stiffly as they pushed the girl up and away from her resting place. She took a tentative step towards her door, stopping when she glanced up to see the figure of her mother standing shocked before her.
The phone that had just brought news from Jim that everyone was okay tumbled from Amy's hand, twisting its way suicidally towards the carpet. Before her stood the ghostly figure of a girl who had exhibited only minute fragments of life for over a year and she gasped as she watched Maria take a second step, the weakened knees collapsing as the frail body followed the phone on its collision course downward.
"Michael…" came the coarse croak from the unused throat of the pale figure, her eyes closing once more as her body met the floor. She wasn't returning to the sanctuary of the house that had hidden her for so long, but entering a deep, required sleep, the satisfied slumber of someone who knew that the boy she loved had just made the ultimate sacrifice for her—left this world so that she could know his love once again.