And then, the hues of skylight faded to darkness, and Vilandra was no more.

An eternity of darkness seemed to pass before another voice impinged on her mind. "Isabel? “

With a great effort, Isabel lifted her head. Crouched next to her was Alex Whitman, looking just as he always had: comfortable.

"Isabel, you need to wake up," Alex said. "Lemme sleep," Isabel said, her words thick and slurred. "I'm tired of running. “

"I know, but you have to keep running," Alex said. "Things are going to get worse, and you must try to help." He didn't touch her, but rather hovered nearby, his words soft and gentle in her ear. Alex had always been so pleasant and plain and safe. How can he be talking about danger? Isabel struggled to marshal her energies enough to sit up, but discovered that her limbs were twitching spasmodically, as if she were being electrocuted.

"They need you, Isabel," he said, his face showing concern.

"Who does?" she asked groggily.

"All of them," Alex responded. "Your friends. Your family. Your husband. “

"That was pretty wild," Kyle said as he followed Max and Michael out into the service corridor. It was clear to Kyle that Max was beside himself with worry, and hoped his own Zen-like calm would rub off on him.

Michael, however, seemed way past the reach of any Buddhist vision of tranquillity; he was obviously ready to go to war.

Quickly scanning the corridor, Kyle saw that it was empty in both directions, except for some flattened cardboard boxes lying along one of the walls, next to a few-scattered bags of trash and packing foam. He pointed down to their left, where the corridor angled around a corner. "That's the direction the girls would have come from. “

"We've got to see if they made it," Michael said, already dashing for the corner. Kyle wondered if Max felt relieved when his friend took the lead at times like this. He was certainly glad that he wasn't the one who had to make all the decisions for the group.

Max and Kyle followed immediately behind Michael, both sparing brief glances over their shoulders to look for pursuers. A moment later the trio rounded the corner.

They saw the girls, along with a pair of federal agents. Isabel and Maria lay unmoving on the concrete floor; while one agent was putting handcuffs on Liz from behind, another agent kept a powerful-looking gun trained on her.

Kyle turned toward Max and Michael and saw that they were both extending their hands forward, obviously about to unleash their powers.

Suddenly the agent who held his gun on Liz turned and shouted to them. "These girls are alive for now, but if you make any threatening gestures, I can't guarantee they'll stay that way. “

"What do we do?" Kyle asked, putting his hand on Max's shoulder.

Suddenly everything changed.

Kyle was seeing the corridor from a different angle, and as he turned his head, he saw himself looking back… at himself. "Max, what do we do?" other-Kyle asked, even as the very same words were leaving his own lips… Then he was in the clothing store, watching himself sweep fragments of shattered glass from his fuzzy purple sweater top; he noticed that one of his long, lacquered nails had broken during the explosion… Next he was looking down at Liz's hands as he knelt over her and fastened the handcuffs around her wrists… A heartbeat later he was looking down his arm at the gun in his hand as he pointed it at the frightened trio of teenage boys, one of whom was him, Kyle Valenti… And then he found himself in utter darkness. He crawled forward along an unyielding surface toward a dazzling light that made him squint. The brilliance quickly resolved itself into Isabel, who lay on the service corridor's hard floor; she looked beautiful as always, yet disturbingly lifeless.

A nearby movement caught his eye, and he turned to see a shape emerge from the surrounding darkness. It was Alex Whitman. Who had been dead now for nearly two years.

"Alex?" Kyle asked, incredulous.

Alex tilted his head and looked at him strangely, almost as though he were having trouble recognizing him. "Your voice sounds like Max's, Kyle. “

"What's going on?" Kyle needed to know.

"You need to help Isabel. Her nervous system has been disrupted," Alex explained, crouching beside the young half-alien woman.

"I can't help her," Kyle said. He knelt next to her and pulled her head up in his hands, then cradled her neck in one hand and pulled open an eyelid with the other.

"Isabel, wake up!" She didn't respond. Her eyes were rolled back into their sockets, showing nothing but white.

Almost instinctively, he spread his fingers, positioning one on her cheek, the others splaying out from her forehead to her ear, his thumb coming to rest near her jaw.

Then Kyle's hand began to glow, faintly at first, but quickly brightening and taking on a silver-blue tint. His mind was filling up with a kaleidoscopic tumble of images: a star pattern; a spaceship; a trio of moons in fragmented multiple colors; the rock formations of the desert beyond Roswell; a series of runelike characters glowing on a glass surface; the fathomless black eyes of a gray-skinned creature leaning over him. Moments later, the visions faded away, and the glow that had engulfed his hand subsided. Kyle felt exhausted.

"This might take time you don't have," Alex said. "But you can end the suffering. You are the key. “

"What's happening to me, Alex? “

Kyle had barely phrased the question before he found himself back in the hallway, standing behind Michael, his hand on Max's shoulder.

"Alex? What?" Michael asked, looking at Kyle strangely.

"We've got to get the girls out of there," Max said, obviously focused on the girls and the agents who had apprehended them. "But it's too far to use our powers effectively, and we'll risk them getting hurt. “

"You three, down on the ground!" the gun-toting agent yelled. Knowing more than a little about law enforcement from his father, Kyle imagined that the man was surprised they hadn't left the girls behind and made a break for it. Most criminals ran, or tried to.

"Do what he says," Max said, his voice pitched low, clearly intended only for Kyle's and Michael's ears. "But be prepared to fight back. “

Michael grimaced as he put his arms in the air and began to kneel. Whether it was his background as a soldier on Antar or the stubborn tough-guy personality drilled into him by his abusive stepfather in a trailer park back in Roswell, Kyle knew that Michael clearly was not happy about backing down from a fight. "We can take them, Max. Our shields can stop the bullets. “

Max was kneeling as well. "We can stop the bullets from hitting us. But we can't shield Isabel or Liz or Maria. Isabel might be able to shield them, but they've done something to her. “

"They disrupted her system," Kyle explained. "They've got tasers. “

Behind them, they heard a commotion in the hall. Kyle realized that the other agents and officers had made their way into the back of the corridor. Though it seemed an eternity had passed since he and the others had come to this spot, Kyle knew that, in reality, it had probably only been a minute or two.

Kyle's mind raced. What do we do? If we can wake Isabel up, she might be able to protect the other girls, or at least give Liz a chance to use her defensive powers.

The scuffle of shoes and boots behind them grew louder, and Max and Kyle turned their heads to see seven armed men coming toward them. Kyle glanced at Michael, who kept his gaze squarely on the agents who menaced the girls.

Kyle closed his eyes and tried to go back to the place where he had just come from, where he had seen the unconscious Isabel and had spoken with Alex. He had no idea how he'd gotten himself there in the first place. But he knew that if he could return there, he could change the terrible future that now barreled toward them all like an out-of-control freight train.