Liz decided to pay more attention to what was ahead than what lay behind. Looking forward, she watched as Isabel scanned through the scratched windshield, then pointed out to Kyle's left.

"Up there," Isabel said. "If you can get in front of that semi, you can use it to block them and make a turn. “

Honking the horn, Kyle accelerated the van. Liz could see that cars were pulling to the side to let them pass, and then she saw the truck Isabel was talking about.

Moments later, Kyle swerved in front of the truck. In the back, Michael jumped as the truck blew its air horn, its brakes squealing. Through the windows, Liz could see its front grille looming behind them, much too close for comfort.

"Hang on," Kyle said again, swerving the van. Liz saw a yellow light flash by as he turned, apparently racing through another intersection. The minibus shuddered, tires scratching rubber across the asphalt, but kept its balance and much of its forward momentum.

Then Liz heard an impact, followed by the unmistakable grinding sound of metal on metal. For a moment she wondered if something had blown up in the van's engine, like the time they'd all been stranded in the little town of Stonewall.

Liz turned to see both Michael and Max glued to the windows. "What happened?" she asked, her voice more shrill than she wanted it to be.

"We just lost our pursuer," Max said. "Literally. They hit an SUV “

"Ouch," Kyle said. "Let that be a lesson to both alien-hunters and gas guzzlers. “

"Anyone else following us?" Isabel asked.

"No, but we still have to get to safety. Find us a place to hide, Kyle," Max said, his voice firm and in control. He wasn't just requesting it; he was commanding it. Despite his protestations to the contrary, Liz knew that at times like these, his leadership instincts simply took over. She didn't mind. It felt right. She turned back toward the front of the van.

"You got it, Max," Kyle said, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

Liz heard a groan behind her and turned to see Maria groggily waking up. Michael moved swiftly over to her side.

"Wha… what happened?" she asked weakly. "Did I just miss the really exciting part? “

Perhaps ironically, Kyle found refuge for the Microbus behind an abandoned church. The driveway was blocked by a fence, but it was easily unlocked with a flick of Isabel's hand.

Because of his automotive expertise, Kyle took the lead in all matters related to the care and feeding of the van. The first order of business was disguising it. While Max and Michael changed the color of the paint… their slightly glowing palms wiping the vehicle's light green away in favor of a dull red… Isabel used her powers to mend the nicks and dents in the windshield and body of the van. It wasn't the first time they had recolored their transportation, but it was the most extensive body-repair they'd ever had to do.

Looking briefly at the engine, Kyle was relieved to discover that nothing essential had been broken during the chase.

So jar, he thought.

Michael knew how tired he was, and imagined that Max and Isabel were probably feeling every bit as drained as he was. He knew that using their powers as much as they had today generally required a good eight-hour sleep for a complete recharge. But he also knew that they might not have that much time.

We have to disguise ourselves and get outta Dodge, he thought. They hadn't fully discussed what had just happened, or its ramifications, but this had been far too close a call.

Michael was getting really tired of running from the government, from other aliens, from whoever happened to be hunting them or haunting them from week to week. More and more he wondered if his instincts and his past as Rath, leader of the Antarian military forces, might not be catching up with him. How much longer am I going to be able to hold back? When do all of us finally decide to fight back? While Kyle checked the engine and the rest of the van for any other damage, Liz was taking care of Maria, who sat, looking weathered, in the front passenger seat. Michael could tell that the taser had really knocked her for a loop, and he wondered if the setting might not have been higher than normal; it seemed to have done quite a number on Isabel as well, at least at the mall.

Walking the length of the van, Michael squatted near the bumper, beside Max. "What do you want the plates to say, Maxwell?" he asked.

Max looked over at the church, then back again. "Only seven letters. C-A-T-H-L-I-C. If they think we're good Christians, maybe they won't take any special notice of our van." He thought for a moment, then added, "And change the state to California. “

Michael smiled, then moved his hand over the formed metal of the rear plate. With a few small pops and pings, the lettering reshaped itself into the requested words. He also changed the registration tag's month and year, then stood and walked back around to the van's front to change the other plate.

On the way, he leaned through the passenger-side window. "Hey," he said simply to Maria. Liz gave her friend a water bottle, then exited through the van's other side and wandered away. The radio chattered in the background.

"Hi, Spaceboy," Maria said, managing a weak smile.

"How are you feeling?" He reached forward and stroked her arm.

"Like hell. I keep shivering, but I'm not cold, and I've got this twitch in my eye, and I think that FBI zapgun gave me split ends." She offered a wobbly smile, then tears welled up in her eyes. She leaned forward, and Michael enfolded her in his arms.

"It's okay," he said softly, his hand stroking her neck and back. "You'll feel better soon. And Isabel can fix your hair. Or I can if you really want, but that might be scarier than dealing with the split ends. “

Michael was gratified to hear Maria's light laughter, which was muffled by his shoulder. She didn't pull away, and moments later, he realized she was crying again. He held her tighter, willing her to feel his love and his resolve that everything really was going to be all right.

After a minute or so had passed, Maria let go and sat straighter in the seat. She wiped under her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffled a bit. "I'm sorry. It must be the jolt of juice that made me so emotional. “

Michael restrained himself from saying what he thought: You're always emotional. Instead he just stroked her arm with his hand. When he sensed she was steady enough, he said, "I need to go finish with the license plates. You gonna be okay? “

She nodded, and he moved to the front of the VW, where Isabel was finished with the dent repairs, and Kyle was fiddling with the bent windshield wipers.

As Michael crouched in front of the license plate, he said, "Nice driving job, Valenti. “

Kyle looked down at him, a frustrated look on his face. "Hey, if you think you could have done better… " His face changed as Michael looked at him with sincerity. "Oh. Thanks. “

Michael began reshaping the license letters. "I couldn't have done better," he said. "At least not in this vehicle. Give me a bike and I could've escaped with a few less bruises and scrapes. But you got all of us out of the frying pan. “

He didn't look up, but he knew Kyle was probably gaping at him because of this uncharacteristic compliment. Michael knew he was generally the most contrary of the six of them. But sometimes it just seemed right to go against the grain and be a nice guy. Besides, Kyle had done a good job.

"Everybody, get over here!" It was Liz's voice, and she sounded alarmed.

Michael, Kyle, Isabel, and Max converged at the side of the van within seconds. Maria was leaning into the vehicle, her hand on the radio's volume knob. She was listening intently "What is it?" Max asked.

"It's not good news," Maria said gravely.