"It was an accident," Michael said. "I can feel you getting your boxers in a bunch over there. Stop it, Max. How many times do we have to tell you it wasn't your fault? You were tricked. We all were. I was just thinking that any Clean Slate agent would assume it was us."

Max nodded, but he wasn't totally convinced. He knew he was going to feel guilty until Alex was back where he belonged. On earth.

"So… what do we do about the Major?" Max asked, changing the subject.

"Avoid him like the plague?" Michael suggested.

"There's still a possibility that he has nothing to do with anything," Max said. "I need more proof than a photo Liz found in DuPris's file cabinet. It's not like the Astral Projector ever printed a photo that wasn't doctored."

"Good point," Michael said. "We'll just keep an eye on him… from afar."

"And act cool if we run into him," Max added.

"Maybe you can act cool," Michael said, smiling. "But you're never going to be cool, geek."

"Dork," Max replied.

"I don't have to take this abuse," Michael said, pushing himself out of his chair. "I'm outta here."

"So soon?"

"Yeah," Michael said. He shook his new keys with a grin. "I want to go kick back at Ray's place, now that it's my place. Jealous?"

Max rolled his eyes. "Insanely," he answered. "Later."

"Peace out," Michael joked, climbing through the window.

When he was gone, Max lay back in bed and decided to distract himself with some mindless TV. He started surfing channels and stopped on a cooking show, but the combinations of ingredients didn't appeal to him. Humans just never mixed sweets and spicy foods for some reason. Like a hamburger covered in applesauce. Mmm.

The collective consciousness agreed with him. A ripple of approving images entered the back of Max's mind. Yes, they concurred. They loved fried meat and tangy fruit together. One of the beings gave Max a taste of a favorite dish, and he could feel the juices running down his throat. Awesome.

Then he realized he hadn't tried to connect to the consciousness at all.

Was it going to be like this for the rest of his life? The idea that the collective consciousness would always be peering over his metaphoric shoulder gave Max the creeps. Will the connection keep getting stronger? Max wondered. Even when I'm not trying to connect?

He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Maybe he should cut back on the amount of time he spent willingly making a full connection to the consciousness. Maybe that would stop or slow down the automatic linking.

But if I do that, Max thought, then how can I keep tabs on how Alex is doing? I've got to keep everybody calm about Alex.

Max closed his eyes. That's what he should be doing right now-checking up on Alex. No matter how it affected Max, making sure Alex was safe was his number-one priority.

With a deep breath Max opened himself up to the full force of the collective consciousness and sank into the ocean of interconnected auras. Like he was floating in a warm bath, Max felt buoyed up by the network of souls. Then he became absorbed by them, one among the multitudes.

Alex? he sent out, along with an image of his redheaded friend laughing at one of his own jokes. How's Alex?

Most of the responses Max received in return were positive-friendly replies, from beings who had begun to adjust to Alex living among them.

Then Max bumped into an aura he recognized.

It was Alex himself. And he was terrified out of his mind.

Max received an image from Alex of pure fear, of shadowy threatening presences, of misery and loneliness. There was no place for Alex to relax or rest. He was constantly on the run. Running for his life.

What is it? Max sent out frantically. Alex, what's wrong? What are you running from?

But before Alex could reply, another being took his place-an unfriendly entity who blasted Max with images of fire and destruction. Max recoiled… and lost track of Alex in the whirlwind of auras.

He thrust himself into the storm, struggling to hold on to Alex's signature energy, but to no avail. The angry being had blocked Alex from further communication.

How can I get him home if you won't even let me talk to him? We want the same thing-we both want Alex back on earth! He knew he wasn't getting his message across. His reasoning was too hard to express in images.

Max received no response, so he decided to shout directly to Alex.

Alex, he sent, Alex, if you can hear me, we're trying to bring you back! We all miss you, and we want you to come home! I promise… I promise we will find a way to get you here where you belong!

Max disconnected from the full force of the collective consciousness and sat up on his bed, gasping for breath. What was going on? Where had all that anger come from?

It made Max sick to think of Alex out there, alone and scared. But all Max could do was hope that most of the consciousness was still trying to understand and that those beings would keep his friend safe.

Liz looked incredible today, Adam thought. He lay on the living-room floor and let his mind drift back to the scene in the Astral Projector office. Liz under the desk with him. Her soft, sweet-smelling body pressed up against his. Her lips so close, he could have kissed her…

With a groan Adam flipped over and buried his face in one of the flat beanbags. He wished it was time for his short sleep period because then he wouldn't be lost in thinking about Liz. Probably.

I wonder if she dreams about me, Adam thought. Right, like that was even possible. But still, maybe he should go dream walking and check out her dream orb. He'd give anything to see what Liz dreamed about.

No, Adam told himself. It would violate her privacy. And what right did he have thinking about her so much, anyway? She was with Max. They were boyfriend and girlfriend. Adam was nothing to her. Nothing special, anyhow.

And Max had been so great to him. They all had.

So Adam definitely shouldn't peek into Liz's dream orb.

Definitely.

But nothing was stopping him from dream walking elsewhere. Even when he'd been confined to the compound, dream walking had allowed him a little taste of freedom. He could experience the whole world in dreams.

And if he stopped by Liz's dream-just stopped by to look at it from the outside-who would that hurt?

Nobody.

Adam flipped over on his back and closed his eyes. He let a wave of calm creep up his body, starting with his toes. When the current of relaxation reached his head, Adam opened his eyes on the dream plane. He was surrounded by billions of glowing spheres, a chaotic field of bubbles stretching into the distance. Brilliant colors swirled on the surfaces of the spheres, and each gave off a pure note so rich, it barely translated as sound. Adam felt the music deeply more than just heard it-this was a music all the senses had to share.

Each bubble was attached to a dreamer. Adam whistled softly, concentrating on picturing Liz. Sure enough, she was asleep, and her dream sphere floated toward Adam's summons. He held the whistled note until Liz's sphere spun close enough for him to see inside.

What he saw sent a jolt through him. Liz was having a nightmare.

Something was chasing her through her house. She ran up the stairs, her eyes wide with terror, as she searched for someplace to hide. The walls contracted until they were as narrow as tunnels. A thick blue fog filled the stairwell, making it hard for Liz to see who was chasing her and making it even harder for her to escape.

Adam placed his open hands around the orb, willing the sphere to expand until the figures inside were life-size.

Liz was in a bedroom now, surrounded by the fog, backing up against the headboard of the bed. Out reached a pair of hands and grabbed Liz by the throat. She saw its face for the first time, and Adam saw it, too. The thing… the thing was Liz. Another Liz. With lips and eyes sewn shut with thick black thread.