"No," she said immediately, rejecting that notion once and for all. She had already placed Max's secret in danger too many times; no matter how messed-up she was, she wasn't going to let her problems jeopardize anyone else's safety again. "Talking to a psychiatrist is out."Alex nodded. "I figured as much. In that case, all I can recommend, based on what I've read, is that you shouldn't try to repress the traumatic memories again, because you've got to acknowledge the stress before you can work through it." His angular face was full of sympathy and regret. "Somehow or another, you need to confront your repressed fears and anxieties regarding the shooting, and come to terms with them." He shrugged glumly. "Easier said than done, I know."Tell me about it, Hz thought bitterly. I can't even confront a load/firing car- or a crying baby-without falling to pieces.

"You know we're here for you," Maria reminded her gently. She slid one of her tiny translucent vials across the table toward Liz. "We all are."I know," Liz said gratefully, offering a weak smile in return. She dutifully sniffed from the miniature vial, more to please Maria than in any serious expectation of deriving comfort or peace of mind from the bottled scent. Despite the pungent odor, she couldn't help worrying about Max, however, and wondering what had become oi Mm and Michael. They had been gone for a couple of hours now, without checking in. Liz knew that part of her would never be able to relax until she knew that Max was okay. What if Morton had surprised them somehow? What if he was pointing his gun at Max right this very moment? Crash! The irate baby pounded upon his tray like it was a cymbal, the constant rat-a-tat-tat causing Liz to flinch visibly with every beat. The infant's high- pitched squeals climbed into the upper decibels, drowning out the restaurant's overhead Muzak system and pushing Liz close to the breaking point. How was she supposed to think, let alone confront her fears, with that hellish caterwauling going on? She pressed her hands against her ears, desperately trying to hide from the noise. She squeezed her eyes shut, only to see Joe Morton rise up from her tormented imagination, waving his handgun wildly in the middle of the Crash-down. In her mind, the baby's shrill cries merged with Maria's screams of terror as the pistol went off, rat-a-tat-tat, unleashing a hail of bullets that turned a row of stacked water glasses into a rain of broken shards before striking Liz right below her ribs, again and again and again. "Stop it," she whimpered hoarsely, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. "I can't stand it anymore!" It was unclear, even to her, if she was talking about the baby or the flashbacks. "Please, make it stop."Hang on," Isabel said decisively. Without another word, she deftly slipped out of the booth and strolled casually toward the salad bar, passing the screaming baby's highchair on the way. Only those who knew her well, and were privy to her special talents, would have noticed the way her slender fingers brushed the back of the highchair as she sauntered by.

A second later, the baby slammed the rounded bowl of his spoon against the tray again. Instead of producing a sharp knock, however, this time the impact yielded only a soft, gooey splat. Confused and startled, the puzzled infant stopped crying long enough to examine his former noise-maker, an intrigued expression upon its chubby little face. Experimentally, it stuck the spoon in its mouth, and immediately started gurgling happily, almost as if the stainless steel utensil had miraculously changed into some kind of chewy chocolate treat. By then, of course, Isabel was al- ready on her way back from the salad bar with a couple of fresh breadsticks.

"Thank you," Liz said sincerely, drying her eyes on a napkin. It was a small mercy, but one she appreciated immensely. If only all our problems could be solved so easily, she thought, and with so little danger.

Where were Max and Michael?

Over three hundred thousand bats currently reside in the bat cave below," the park ranger announced. "Mexican free-tailed bats, to be exact. At the moment, they're sleeping upside down inside the cavern, about a half-mile past the main entrance, but soon all three hundred thousand will come spiraling out of the cave in search of dinner: mostly moths, mosquitoes, and other flying insects. Trust me, it's a pretty impressive sight when all those bats come flapping out of the cave all at once!"Dozens of tourists packed the outdoor amphitheater, waiting for one of Carlsbad Caverns's biggest attractions: the nightly Bat Flight. Constructed of solid stone and concrete, the amphitheater looked down onto the natural entrance of the main cavern, a dark oval gap at the bottom of a rocky cliff. To the west, the sun was already sinking toward the horizon, so the expectant throng knew that the bats would be making their promised appearance soon. Restless children, bored by the ranger's educational lecture, climbed up and down the wide stone steps of the amphitheater, squirmed impatiently between their parents, or attempted to frighten their younger siblings with black rubber bats purchased earlier at a souvenir shop. Near the back of the open-air theater, some joker played the theme music from Batman on his portable boombox.

"Why are we here again?" Max asked, as impatient as any of the unruly toddlers. Along with Liz and the others, he sat on one of the tiered stone benches overlooking the cave entrance. Only Michael was missing; according to Max, he had volunteered to stay behind at the Days Inn to keep watch over Morton's motel room, freeing Max to return to the park to find the rest of his friends and relatives. Liz had originally been startled by Max's newly-blond appearance, but he'd quickly restored his hair to its usual raven-black hue once he realized that the disguise bothered her. Her own tresses, however, remained brilliant red, for safety's sake, as well as for her own peace of mind.

"Because the Visitors Center is closed, and this is what people do at the Caverns at sunset," Maria said testily; Liz guessed that she wasn't happy about Michael being left behind to baby-sit an armed criminal of uncertain intentions. "You're the one who's always telling us to blend in and not attract attention." She was two seats down from Max, with Liz nestled between them. It was still warm out, but the summer heat was cooling to more bearable levels. "Besides, the bats are cool."I guess," Max sighed, peeking at his watch. Liz knew he was counting the hours and minutes before he could go spy on Morton's midnight rendezvous with the lieutenant. How far is Slaughter Canyon from here, she wondered, and do I really want Max out tailing Morton through the desert? They had already spent several minutes comparing notes after Max got back from his earlier surveillance mission. He had told them about the science guy inexplicably sharing a room with Morton, while Isabel had filled her brother in on what she had learned from Lieutenant Ramirez. Liz wasn't sure what any of this meant, and doubted that any of the others did. All this mystery was the last thing she needed right now, rattled as she still was by her resurrected psychological baggage from the shooting, but she had to admit that the entire situation was looking increasingly suspicious and alarming. A particle physicist with Morton? Conspiring with an air force pilot from White Sands? What could this possibly be about-except maybe more alien-inspired intrigue left over from the Crash? She shivered, hugging herself and wishing that she could just curl up into a fetal ball somewhere far from Roswell, New Mexico and its secrets. This was supposed to be a vacation from all that, she recalled with bitter irony, but so far it wasn't working out that way "How are you doing, Liz?" Max asked softly, searching her face with those soulful dark eyes. She guessed that someone, maybe Alex or Isabel, had also brought Max up to speed on her precarious emotional state. "I know you've been having a rough time." She detected a trace of guilt in his voice. "I'm sorry I haven't been around more."That's all right," she consoled him. In a crisis, she had learned from painful experience, there often wasn't time for togetherness. "You were doing what you had to do-for my sake." She turned toward him, looking up at the trou- bled face she knew so well. "Morton's my problem, not yours."I just wish I could do more," he said passionately. "The idea that he's still out there, up to no good, after hurting you!" His expression hardened and he clenched his fists, as if newly enraged by the very thought of Morton. A baseball-size chunk of concrete, resting by his foot, abruptly exploded in a shower of dust and gravel. Embarrassed and flustered, he guiltily peeked at the strangers around them; fortunately, no one besides his friends appeared to have noticed the brick's unnatural disintegration. "It just makes me crazy," he offered by way of explanation. "You can't imagine."Out of the comer of her eye, Liz saw Maria observing Max warily, eyeing him as she would a ticking time bomb. Isabel and Alex were discreetly monitoring Max as well. Liz felt her friends' shared discomfort, even as she appreciated their reluctance to intrude on her private moment with Max.