Looking back down the hill, Max confirmed that the tracks they were following did indeed lead in this direction. Jason definitely came this way, he thought, but was too afraid to suggest what he was thinking to Liz. He didn't want to know if his suspicions were true and, more importantly, he didn't want her to know.

«Hello! Is someone up there!» a familiar young voice yelled from deep inside the mine shaft. «Help!»

Max was relieved at hearing the voice that confirmed Jason was still alive.

«Jason, is that you?» Liz screamed back, on the edge of panic.

«Liz? Help!» Jason was past the edge.

«Hold on!» Max called back while he searched the area for anything he could use to make a ladder or some kind of rope. «We'll get you out. How far is it to the bottom?»

«I don't know!» Jason yelled back. «I'm not on the bottom.»

«What do you mean?» Liz asked, straining to see into the darkness beneath her. «Where are you?»

«I'm on some kind of beam," he replied. «But my bike fell to the bottom. It… it sounds really far.»

Max could hear Jason's voice trembling as it echoed up the walls of the shaft.

«We'll get you out of there," Max promised.

«Hurry," Jason replied. «I think the beam is going to fall!»

Opening her tired eyes, the first thing Maria saw was the beautiful painting still sitting directly in front of her.

The second thing she saw was the light coming in through the window.

And, naturally, the third thing she saw was the clock.

«Michael! It's morning!» she screamed, waking her sleeping boyfriend. «How could you let me fall asleep? My mom is going to kill me. Then she's going to kill you. And then she's going to kill the both of us again, just for the heck of it.»

«What?» He slowly came around to her shrill yells, not having heard a word of what she had just said.

«Morning.» She slowly summed it up for him in a clear and concise manner. «My mom. Me. You. Dead.»

«Well, we can't do anything about it now," he replied. He wanted to turn over and go back to sleep, but he couldn't because he was sitting up on the couch. His neck ached because of the awkward angle he had slept at.

Maria calmed herself, knowing that he was right. Feeling

morning breath overtaking her mouth, Maria reached in her purse for some mints. «I swear, one of these days I'm going to give that woman a heart attack.»

«Since you're here," Michael tested the waters, «how about making some breakfast?»

She glared at him in response, crunching on the mint.

«Kidding," he replied defensively, and got off the couch, moving into the kitchen. «You cooked last night. It's my turn this morning. What would you like? And keep in mind I only have eggs.»

«Michael Guerin?» She was shocked by the question. «Offering to make me breakfast? The world must be coming to an end. Have you been taken over by an alien… oh wait… never mind.»

«It's a limited time offer only.» He had no patience for her sarcasm first thing in the morning. He had no patience for anything first thing in the morning-or at most points in the day.

«I would love breakfast.» She leaned in to kiss him, but stopped short before making contact. «Ewww. Have a mint.» She handed him an extra breath freshener from the pack in her hand. The romantic mood ended, she released him from her embrace, and sat back on the couch admiring the wonderful painting as he went to the refrigerator to find out what was in there that he could use to make breakfast.

«You know, we could probably have a showing of your art in one of those galleries along Main Street," she suggested with mounting excitement. «Or we could do it at the Crashdown. It would be a great gimmick-the cook-slash-artist. The local papers love that human interest

stuff, and Mr. Parker would probably love the free advertising for the place. We could put all your work on display.»

«All what work?» He was afraid where this was going. «It's one painting.»

«Sure, now," she replied, moving into the kitchen with him. «But I think you've got this artist in you struggling to emerge. All you need is my inspiration. Think of me as your muse.»

«Not interested.»

«You haven't even thought about it," she whined. «Artists can make a lot of money.»

«Once they're dead," he said, reminding her of the odds of successful living artists. «Like I said, I'm not interested. What happened to the promise you made last night to stop trying to change me?»

«I was emotionally touched by the painting at the time," she explained. «The moment passed. So, do you think you're more into oils or acrylics?»

«I'm more into being left-"

Michael didn't have the chance to continue his thought, because someone frantically started banging on his door.

Maria started to open her mouth to respond, but Michael quickly covered it with his hand. The look of anxiety on his face begged her to remain silent, and she gladly agreed. His biggest fear was that one day the wild pounding on his door would be the FBI… or worse. It was actually a fear that he had encountered in the past and was not in a hurry to repeat.

«Michael, it's Kyle. Let me in. Quick!»

Michael and Maria let out heavy sighs of relief as he

removed his hand from her face. «Don't ever bang on my door like that," Michael said as he opened the door to find an out-of-breath Kyle.

«Isabel's in trouble," was all he could say.

After finally catching his breath following the sprint from his car, Kyle quickly detailed the situation of his finding Isabel in her comatose state. Breakfast forgotten, the three of them were out the door as Kyle returned to his convertible while Maria and Michael went to follow him back to the Evans home in her mother's Jetta.

Unaware of the fact that Isabel was trapped in his mind, Kyle led his friends back to her unconscious body, reenter-ing the house by way of her window. He stood over her bed while Michael studied her prone form, not really knowing what to do. Regretfully, this was not the first time they found themselves in a situation where they didn't have a clue how to proceed.

«You found her like this?» Michael asked anxiously.

«Well, she was kind of slumped over," Kyle explained, «but I just straightened her out a little.»

Sitting beside her, Michael placed his hand on Isabel's forehead. «She doesn't feel warm. Her face isn't flushed.» He took her by the wrist and felt for a pulse. It seemed fine to him-neither noticeably fast nor slow. Her chest was rising and falling steadily. «Was she sick yesterday?» he asked.

«No. Not at all," Kyle quickly replied. «She was fine.»

«Did you see anyone strange hanging around?» Michael pressed on. «Following you?»

«No one," Kyle answered. «No one at all.»

«And she spent the entire day with you?»

«Well, she did disappear for a few minutes to run an errand, but she wasn't gone long at all. Nothing seemed wrong when she got back, either.»

Having come in through the window, neither of them noticed the yearbook on the floor, hiding slightly under the other side of the bed.

«I can't get Liz or Max on their cell phones.» Maria came back into the room from the hall carrying her own cell phone, also oblivious to the clue hiding out of her eyesight. «They must be out of the service area, but I left messages. I also called the number Liz gave me for her friends' place. They have to check at least one of those phones eventually.»

«Did she give you the address?» Kyle asked, relieved now that he had someone to help him with the crazy situation. «I could go get them. Artesia's only about an hour away.»

«I don't know the address.» Maria readied her fingers on the cell phone to hit a preprogrammed number. «But I could ask her mom.»