Ending Two, Part 18 (or Part 94)
"Are we there yet?"
Michael turned his head to shoot a look at the nine-year-old boy when the question was posed for the fifth time in less than half an hour. His attention was pulled away when Philip chuckled and he stared at the man driving the family car out into the desert.
"Children have a tendency to be very impatient, and on a road trip they have no sense of time. To you it's been about five minutes since he last asked that question and to him it's been hours."
"He needs to learn patience."
"And he will." Philip nodded when Michael pointed out the turn he needed to take and the car bounced over the pitted path. "Patience comes with age and at nine years old you probably didn't have much of it either." He glanced at the rearview mirror, meeting his wife's gaze there. She had opted to ride in the back rather than have Michael sit with the children and it had served to ease her mind while cutting down on the childish arguments that were bound to arise when the two of them were cooped up in the car together for too long.
"That's it." Michael nodded at the large rock formation ahead of them.
"But, we're in the middle of nowhere," Diane said, more to herself than anyone else. She was grateful when the man sitting up front didn't say anything beyond the irritated look he shot into the side view mirror.
He motioned to the rocky formation that jutted out into the clear blue sky. "This is where your children first drew breath."
"Here? No, that can't be." She looked around at the miles of open desert that stretched out as far as the eye could see. "It's not possible. We're so far from where we found Max and Isabel."
"Their instincts for survival and self-preservation are deeply ingrained in them. They had to make sure there was no connection between them and the Granolith chamber. Its location had to remain hidden and the odds for survival this far from civilization was minimal at best. To protect the chamber they had to get as far away from it as they possibly could, and at the same time, that also increased their chances of survival."
"Mr. Guerin, we're nearly thirty miles from town." She shook her head, her gaze disbelieving as the car rolled to a stop at the base of the rock formation. "Their ages were only believed to be around six years old when we found them and we weren't anywhere close to being this far out into the desert."
"Then that should tell you something about their will to survive." Without another word he jerked the car door open and stepped out, breathing in the arid desert air. He rolled his shoulders and rapped his knuckles against the window, nodding when he caught Isabel staring at him.
"You said my children were born here," Diane said as she slid out of the car and brushed the seat of her pants off.
He just stared at her.
"I'd like to see it."
Michael glanced up at the sky, taking in the sun's position before nodding. His younger self wouldn't be arriving for a while yet. He nodded sharply and led the way up the overgrown path that would go unnoticed if one didn't know it existed. He looked down when he reached the slab of rock that served as the door to the chamber and he was suddenly flanked by the two smaller hybrids.
"Is this where the secret cave is?" Max asked. "Is it like the Bat Cave?"
He sighed and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. This kid was gonna drive his younger self absolutely nuts, he thought. He waved his hand over the stone and their eyes widened when a handprint appeared for a moment before fading into nothingness once more.
"Oh my goodness," Diane whispered. "What was that?"
"It's something that ensures the person requesting entrance is a member of the Royal Four." He nodded at the stone. "Try it."
She glanced at her husband and when he nodded she flexed her hand and reached out, waving it over the spot where the handprint had appeared just moments ago. Her eyebrows lifted in interest when nothing happened.
"I wanna try," Isabel spoke up.
Michael glanced at the parents before gesturing to Isabel. When Philip nodded he turned and picked her up, holding her with one arm and passing his free hand over the stone. The handprint appeared for a moment, seeming to pulse as it waited for the presence of a recognized signature.
"Do I just touch it?" she whispered.
"Press your palm to it."
Isabel reached out and placed her palm against the iridescent symbol and she gasped in surprise when a tingling warmth seemed to spread across her skin where she was touching the stone. She jerked her hand back when a rumbling sound began and a moment later the ground felt like it was shaking beneath them. "Is it supposed to do that?"
"You're not in any danger," he assured her as he set her down and stepped through the entrance that suddenly appeared before them.
Philip and Diane hurried to follow them when their children ran after Michael, their excitement too great to be hindered by parental warnings to slow down. When they caught up with them they saw Max standing at the center of the pod chamber with a disappointed look on his face.
"What's the matter, Son?" Philip asked, even though he was fairly certain he knew what the problem was.
"It's not anything like the Bat Cave, Dad."
"Who's that?" Isabel pointed at the occupied pod curiously. "Is she gonna come out too?"
Max glanced at Michael, studying his expression as he stared at the darkened pod his sister was standing in front of. "She's the bad one you told us 'bout," he guessed. "You said in that other time she made all kinds of bad stuff to happen."
Michael forced his gaze to leave the small lifeless body so he could focus his attention on Max. "Yeah, but she won't do that here."
The boy moved closer to the pod and reached out to press his forefinger against the barrier that contained the body inside. "Is it 'cause she's dead?"
"She's not a threat to anyone," he answered with a nod.
"Huh." Max pressed his finger against the pod's cover once more, tilting his head to one side as he studied the dead alien. After a few minutes he wandered over to the other pods, the membrane-like covers tattered and hanging over the empty spaces. He looked up at his mother when she reached out to touch one of them and her free hand came up to press her fingertips against her lips.
"Philip," she whispered.
The little boy frowned, not understanding why her voice sounded so funny. He watched his father move over to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly. He rolled his eyes and turned back to look at Michael. "Girls are kinda weird, huh?"
"Even Liz Parker?" Isabel asked, making a face at her brother.
"She's not weird! Take it back, Isabel!"
She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him her patented superior look. Her eyes narrowed a moment later when he suddenly went silent and a smile lifted his lips.
"I'm gonna tell Alex you like him," he threatened with a childish grin.
Her eyes narrowed further. "If you tell him I'll – "
Michael sighed heavily and shook his head, tiring of the juvenile conversation and antics. He lifted his head when a sound caught his attention and he turned to Philip. "He's close."
"Should we go back outside?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I think that'd be best. I want to observe the meeting and it's too close in here."
Diane shaded her eyes with her left hand as she looked out across the desert a few minutes later, her eyebrows pulling down in a frown when she saw the cloud of dust being kicked up by a motorcycle. "Oh my," she whispered.
Philip rested a hand on his wife's shoulder as the teenager they were there to meet pulled up not far away, braking to a stop hard and using his foot to pivot the back tire. Sand sprayed over them, leaving a fine dusting of the grainy bits coating their clothes and hair. "Stay calm," he murmured quietly.
The boy on the motorcycle jerked his helmet off, his defiant gaze locking on the family. He ran a hand through his spiked hair before shaking his head at the picture of the perfect suburban family. His eyes moved over them one by one, certain this was a mistake. Yeah, he could buy that story about him being a great military leader. That made sense. But this? No. There was no way these were his soldiers. He stared at the boy who was trying to creep closer to his bike and he could see the curiosity in his eyes, the itching in his fingers to reach out and touch it. This was his king? His gaze shifted to the girl. Princess, well, yeah, maybe he could see that one.
"Tom said you wanna talk." He hooked the helmet on one of the handlebars and crossed his arms over his chest as he pinned the lawyer with a hard stare. "So talk."
"Is this yours?" Max asked as he inched closer to the bike, reaching out to run his fingers over the shiny chrome handlebars.
"Nobody would loan it to me," he said with a snort. His eyes followed the kid's movements as his fingers finally settled on the helmet. He shrugged one shoulder when the little boy's questioning gaze lifted to him.
"Max – "
"Leave them be, Diane," Philip advised, watching their interaction. He bit back a smile when his son picked up the helmet, lifting it and putting it on. He could hear the muffled, "Cool" that came from behind the visor and his gaze shifted to the teenager when he kicked the stand out and stood up, rolling his shoulders. It was amazing, he thought. He'd seen the future Michael make that same motion, and in that moment he could clearly see the older version standing before him.
The nine-year-old tipped his head back and looked up at Michael. "Is it really yours?"
"All mine."
Hidden nearby Michael snorted softly. "Yeah, all yours my ass," he muttered. He and Tom had found the 1957 Harley Davidson XL Sportster at a junkyard and the director had gotten it for a steal. They'd put in a lot of hours on the machine, restoring it until it looked new, and when he'd left the orphanage at 17 he'd taken it. Tom had been gone and it hadn't rightfully belonged to anyone else.
Max brushed a hand over the leather seat reverently and he lifted his left foot up, catching himself when Dad cleared his throat. He bit his bottom lip before looking up at Michael again. "Can I sit on it?"
Michael studied the kid for a moment before he shrugged. "Whatever." He smirked when the boy scrambled up to settle in the seat and had to lean so far forward he was practically lying on the bike so he could reach the handlebars. He shook his head and grabbed the kid's waist, sliding him forward just a bit. "Keep your feet on the pegs so you don't burn yourself."
Isabel tipped her head back to look up at Mom. "Who cares about that dumb bike?"
"Honey, that's not just any bike," Philip answered with a shake of his head. "That's a classic."
She still didn't understand. "Mom?"
"I'm afraid that's one of life's great mysteries," Diane said with a slight roll of her eyes. A love of dangerous vehicles was something that men, alien or human, seemed to have in common. "You don't have to try to understand it because I doubt you ever will."
"Well, I think it's dumb."
She smiled and nodded. "I have to agree." Thankfully when Michael had mentioned little Alex Whitman becoming important to her daughter later on there had been no mention of a motorcycle and somehow she couldn't picture him with one either. Her son's next question pulled her attention away from her musings.
"Can I make it make the vroom-vroom sound?"
Michael took the kid's hand and wrapped it tighter around the handgrip, rolling it forward and generating the sound. He laughed when the vibrations rolled through the bike and the kid's shocked gaze dropped to the machine he was straddling.
"You've got the coolest ride ever!" Max enthused.
"Yeah, I know."
"Mom, can I have one of these when I get older?" the little boy asked.
NO! Diane shook her head. "Why don't we wait until you're older before we make any decisions about that, okay? And maybe you should get down so we can talk to Michael."
"But Mom," he complained.
"Now, Max."
Reluctantly he climbed down and pulled the helmet off, holding it out to Michael. "Sometimes Mom don't know what fun stuff is." He grinned suddenly. "When I get big I'm gonna have a bike just like yours."
From his vantage point Michael watched his younger self straighten up imperceptibly and stick his chest out and he rolled his eyes at the display. "Who knew all I needed was a little Michael-worshipper?" he muttered to himself.
"So like I said, Tom said you wanted to talk to me," Michael spoke up as his attention once again turned back to the lawyer. "I don't have all day, so talk."