Maybe that made him unfit to be a King. That was fine… he didn't want the job. And by all accounts, he had blown it for himself, his friends, and his whole planet back when he was a King, anyway. For now, he would concentrate on protecting his piece of this world. If he couldn't save a planet, perhaps there was wise enough a ruler in him to save his friends and the girl he loved.

Max tried to concentrate on the work in front of him. It was an effort, but he kept his hands busy. By the time the lunch crowd was done, he, Michael, and Isabel had managed to finisn priming and painting the front of the diner. The work had not calmed him or given him any peace, but he fig- ured it was better than sitting idle. Isabel had used her pow- ers a bit in the end to spruce up the restaurant's sign, but Max hadn't bothered to protest. There was no one on the street to see them. They were finished, but Max was reluctant to move on. When they were working on the side and die back, he wouldn't be able to watch Liz through the window.

"Looks like the lunch rush is over," Max said.

"Rush?" Michael repeated. The restaurant had had maybe one third of its usual number of customers that day.

"That does it," Max said. He stepped back to look over the work.

"Let's clean up and get something to eat," Max said.

"Great job outside. Thank you," Bell said, after they'd freshened up. Though she was trying to put on a smile, Max could tell that… like him and everyone else… she was really thinking of only one thing.

"Thank you," Max said. "We used to paint with our dad back home.”

Bell nodded. "I didn't expect you to do the sign, too," she said.

"I found some matching paint in the basement," Isabel said, covering quickly.

"How did you get the neon to work?" Bell asked. "It hasn't come on in years.”

"I fixed it," Michael said, jumping in. "It was just a loose contact.”

Bell nodded politely, then turned serious. She looked from Max to Michael and said, "You look after the girls.”

"We will," Max said.

"These things happen in threes. They always take three girls at a time within about twenty-four hours. I know it sounds like crazy superstition, but every time it's happened, three girls have gone missing. Okay?" Bell said.

"Okay," Max said. Since she was opening up, Max con- sidered pumping Bell for information, but he decided against it. He needed to concentrate on getting his friends as far from Stonewall as possible.

Bell nodded and walked off. Liz came over and greeted him with a thin smile. Then she kissed him. holding it longer than usual.

Bell brought them food, but didn't stay to eat with them. "I'll be in the back with Sam," was all she said. Max understood. He wouldn't leave Liz's side voluntarily.

Kyle came in just as they sat down. Leaning into his friends, he said, "The engine is in and back in one piece. I have more I could do, but if we have to go, the van will be ready tonight.”

Max nodded. At the same moment, Jimmy stirred and Max felt a pang of guilt. We can't help her, Max reminded himself. No one can. Not now.

The voice in his own head sounded so convincing that he almost believed it.

"Then we'll go tonight when you get off work," Max said to Liz and Maria.

The others nodded. No one liked it, but they all silently agreed that they did not have a choice. A moment later, Max realized that they had fallen into their old habits: Max making decisions, and the others going along. But this was a decision that Max knew was the only one he or any of them could make.

After lunch, they started on the side of the diner. He didn't like not being able to see the girls, and he knew that Michael didn't either.

Yet he knew it was irrational. There had never been an… incident during daylight. And they would be on their way tonight.

"Too bad we won't be able to finish," Isabel said as they began. They would finish priming the side and rear of the diner today. And they would paint maybe half of the side wall before dinner. "Bell and Sam have been good to us," she added.

Max only nodded. "Too bad," he said, knowing that the painting was the smallest part of it… but the only part they could talk about now.

Kyle finished the tune-up and decided to call it a day. There wasn't much more he could do, at least not before he had to meet his friends. The van's engine had new points and plugs, and he'd gotten all cylinders working. The brakes were new, and he'd replaced all the belts and hoses.

Given more time, he would have done more with the suspension and taken a very close look at the carburetor. For that matter, he would have stripped both the engine and the carb and completely and rebuilt them.

But they were out of time. The van would get them hundreds of miles from Stonewall, at least. That would have to be enough. He had done all he could.

After he cleaned himself up, he headed into the office. Stepping inside, he reflexively looked for Dawn, scanning the small room for a moment before he realized the fool- ishness of the act. Still, her perfume hung in the room, and he imagined that he could feel her there. Yeah, I've done all 1 could, he thought. I'm a regular hero.

Kyle did what he had to do quickly. Using the com- puter, he found out the going rate for his timing chain. Then he figured out what he had earned from Dan so far. It wasn't enough, but he knew that would be the case. So he took an envelope and put in the difference with the money Liz had left him.

Then he pulled the van up to the pump and filled it with gas. Going back inside, he put the money for the gas into the envelope.

Grabbing a pen, he jotted a quick note on the side of the envelope: Dan, thanks for everything. Here is the balance I owe you for the timing chain and some gas.

It wasn't enough, Kyle realized, but he didn't even know how to begin to say the things he wanted to say. In the end, he just scrawled, I'm sorry on the bottom of the note and signed his name.

Taking the letter outside, he placed it in the garage mailbox, which was nailed to the wall outside the door.

He quickly parked the van by the side of the garage, making sure that it was pointed toward the road. All they would have to do now was get into it and drive. Walking around back, Kyle took a last look in the room where he and his friends had stayed. He wondered what Dan would make of some of the "improvements" that Isabel had made.

He wondered if Dan ever went inside that room. Johnny's room, his mind supplied.

Kyle wasn't sure where that thought came from, but he was sure that he was right. The room had been Johnny's. Maybe a playroom or something when the boys were younger, then a teenage rec room when Johnny was older… before he went to war.

There was more than one ghost in the garage, Kyle real- ized.

Collecting the towels and blankets, he carried them outside and shut the door behind him. Kyle was sure that Dan would not be back in the room. It was a shame, he thought. It was a good place… it had been a good place. And it must have meant something to Dan once.

Now it was just a painful reminder.

Kyle heard the door swing shut as he carried the linens to the office. Inside, he placed them on the couch and headed off to meet his friends. He spared a glance down the road, where Gomer and Dawn had met with the aliens who had taken her. He remembered the dark cloud, the ship, and the feeling it had given him in his stomach. He wasn't looking forward to driving past that spot, but it couldn't be helped. They would leave it and all of Stonewall behind soon enough.

As he headed down the empty Main Street, Kyle realized that he was sorry to be leaving Stonewall. They had gotten stuck here, and the town made Roswell look like New York City, but there it was. It didn't make sense, but Kyle real- ized that he had better stop trying to make sense of his life… it certainly hadn't gotten himself anywhere lately.