"Liz."

Drawn from the confused tangle of dreams and pain that her thoughts seemed to consist primarily of these days, Liz looked up and saw her dad standing before her. "Yeah, Dad."

Jeff Parker looked worn out. Tourist season was always hard, and demanded a lot of the whole family. "Why don't you go on back to the Crashdown. The sheriff tells me he's not going to need to do any more questioning."

"Is there anything Mom needs?" Liz pushed up from the chair.

Her dad sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "If there is, I didn't even think to ask."

"It's okay," Liz said. "I'll ask, then tell her you told me to."

Her dad smiled. "I appreciate that, Liz."

"No prob," Liz said. She was looking forward to being out of the hospital. "Are you going to be okay?"

" Ill be fine," her father assured her. "Tell your mom I'll be home soon."

Liz nodded, glancing across the waiting area, and saw Isabel and Max locked in a heavy conversation on the other side of the doorway that led to the vending machines. After Isabel had arrived a few minutes ago, she'd taken Max away to talk privately. Maybe some of the reason was because Max and Isabel didn't want to risk being overheard by Jeff Parker, but Liz was certain that part of the reason for the relocation was because Isabel and Max were trying to cut her out of their affairs.

Okay, Liz thought, maybe I'm being a little paranoid here. And didn't I just give Max the cold shoulder to a degree? I wasn't overly responsive to his attempts at conversation. She'd tried; she really had. But she just kept seeing Tess in her mind, kept hearing Tess's voice. And there were the images of Tess and Max together. She'd seen them together around school, but she'd never seen them intimate together. That didn't stop her mind from creating the images, though.

Jeff Parker's cell phone rang. He waved a final goodbye, and scooped the phone from his pocket.

A moment of indecision froze Liz. Wave good-bye? Or just go? She didn't know what was more acceptable with whatever relationship was left between them.

Then Max turned and glanced at her as if sensing she was about to leave. She gazed into his dark eyes, feeling herself drawn to him. Resisting the impulse to walk over to him, she waved and pointed toward the main entrance that led outside to the parking area.

Max checked his conversation with Isabel and came back to Liz. "What's going on?" he asked.

"All done here," Liz replied. "Dad says I can go back to the Crashdown and see what needs doing there."

Max hesitated a moment, and his discomfort was plain.

"I've got my car outside. I could give you a lift."

"It's only a few blocks," Liz replied, not wanting to interrupt the conversation between siblings that obviously wasn't meant for her. She felt a little guilt over the anger that beat through her.

"I don't mind," Max said. "I like the company."

Uncertainty threaded through Liz. God, why does this have to be so hard? Either I want to be with him or I don't. But it wasn't that simple even though she wanted it to be. And worse, she knew the decision to be around Max in whatever capacity was never going to be simple or easy again.

Liz wanted to say no. She didn't need any more complications in her life. But then she realized that maybe her mom was talking to the ghost of her dead grandmother and the pod squad were the only ones who could see the "ghosts."

Instead she said, "Okay," and the answer wasn't as solid or convincing as either of them would have wanted.

Max opened the front doors, and the blast of furnace heat of Roswell on a June afternoon rolled into the emergency room waiting area. Before they could go outside, a hoarse scream ripped through the waiting area.

"That came from the back," Liz said.

The scream was repeated, drawing the attention of everyone in the building. The nurses at the front desk abandoned their post and rushed to the back.

"Keep him away from me!" a man's hoarse voice screamed. "Oh god, keep him away from me! He's dead! He's dead!

Max started back into the hospital. Liz followed at his heels.

"Somebody help me!" a different male voice roared.

Liz recognized the voice at once. She never broke stride, running a step behind Max. "That's Kyle," she said.

"I know," Max replied. He rushed through the swinging doors that led to the care center.

Liz had been to the emergency room center before and recognized the room instantly. Beds lined both sides of the large, long room, and were given the illusion of isolation by the pale blue curtains hanging from tracked runners on the ceiling.

Kyle, one arm bare and bloody where his shirtsleeve had been cut away, held an old man in the bed next to his. The man looked like he was at least seventy, pale and wizened. Plastic tubing ran from IVs in both arms to bags hanging on either side of the bed.

"Get him away from me!" the old man roared. "He's dead! He's come after me!" He screamed in fear.

Kyle's wounded arm bled over the old man's sheets as he struggled to keep the guy down on the bed. "Somebody help me!"

Nurses and two doctors in scrubs ran over to the old man's bed. Then an electrical strike strobed the floor and the lights in the emergency room went out.

Michael stared at the specter that hung in the air behind Jim Valenti. The "ghost" stood almost ten feet tall, looking even taller because the creature had to bend and stoop to fit under the basement ceiling. Loose cloth clung to the specter, folds that barely covered the emaciated figure and flapped in the wind. Dark circles surrounded the black eyes, and the creature was bald.

Staring at the creature, Michael felt certain the thing had stepped out of some horror movie, not a grave. The static-charged air whipped through the garage, and sparks leaped across some of the boxes of ore samples.

"Michael!" Valenti yelled across the roaring winds. "Get the girl out of here!" He tried to step forward, but the winds sucked him back into the basement room. The door slammed shut with a sudden fierceness that swallowed the beam from the flashlight Valenti carried.

Suddenly aware that Kelli was screaming, fighting, and clinging to him all at the same time, Michael guided her out of the garage. The garage door slipped free of the jammed position it had been in and dropped back down with a heavy clank behind them.

Spotting Valenti's truck parked in front of the house, Michael sprinted for the vehicle, half carrying Kelli as she struggled to keep up. When he reached the truck, he shoved the girl inside. "You'll be safe here," Michael said.

"Where are you going?" Kelli demanded.

"To help Valenti."

"You can't leave me here!"

Michael closed the door and said, "Keep your head down," and ran back to Wilkins's garage. He narrowed his eyes against the spinning grit and dust that rose from the garage floor. The wind slashed him with icy talons.

Summoning the energy that was part of his alien heritage, Michael threw out a hand. The energy struck the garage door and forced it back up into the tracks. However, the garage door only traveled something less than three feet.

Michael threw himself under the garage door's edge, sliding and rolling like a base runner stealing second. He pushed himself up on the other side, summoning more energy and creating a ball of light in his left palm. The light illuminated the garage.

Lightning struck the Willis jeep, causing the vehicle to rock violently for a moment. A black singe marked the place where the lightning had struck.

The static electricity discharge still raced through Michael, but somehow seemed dimmer. Either whatever was causing the buildup was dying down, or using his powers was negating the effects. He increased the size of the ball of light in his hand, amazed at how the electrical disturbance retreated before him.