|"Naked Is A State of Mind"
Disclaimer: I do not own Roswell or anything related
to it. I make no profit of off this.
Summary: Sequel to Survival
Category: After Hours
|The ground shook and seemed to actually remove itself
from underneath the bus. Liz closed her eyes and
prayed as the bus flew through the air. She braced
The bus shook and collapsed inwards on itself as it hit the ground in a ravine below. It struck on the side opposite Liz, and she watched with horror as several passengers were crushed by the metal walls. Then her head hit the ceiling, and everything went black.
Isabel had been granted a window.
It was a privilege, certainly. And she enjoyed watching the clouds move across the desert sky. Occasionally a bird would fly across the horizon, and she sucked in her breath at the sight of another living creature.
She didn't include the staff of the "resort," as they called it, as living creatures. They had no soul, and it was evident in their eyes. When they came for the tests, they laughed at her screams. Once, she bit one of them and they slapped her across the face. If she tried to use her powers for anything but healing, they locked her into a dark room with no food. Apparently, they cared nothing for the health of her child.
Isabel supposed that a dead child could be of almost as much use to them as a live one.
After all, a dead child wouldn't put up a fight. She felt bad for Michael, she really did. She knew it wasn't his fault. She had been able to tell that he was drugged, the whole time, and undoubtedly he was killing himself with guilt. But truthfully, he had been the gentlest of any of the so-called "lovers" she had had. The others, that first month, had been rape, and nothing else. But Michael had been gentle, even if he hadn't known what he was doing.
Isabel sighed and lay back, touching her stomach lightly. It hadn't begun to curve yet, but she knew she was pregnant. She knew from the self-satisfied looks on the faces of the staff. If they couldn't have a mixed child, they might as well have an alien one.
She wondered how Michael was doing. She hoped they didn't hurt him anymore. She didn't know if she could take the screams.
"Your town, huh? You really wanna know?"
Max looked at her. "Of course I want to know! I want to know where my friends went!"
"Well, let's think. First there were the fires..."
Max groaned impatiently. "I know about the catastrophes. But why? Do you know why they happened?"
The woman looked him straight in the eye. "They happened because certain people wanted everybody out of Roswell. And they wanted them out fast."
"So they can run things the way they want to with their new facility. It's about fifty miles outside of town, and this way they don't have to worry about people coming and sniffing around. No one will go near Roswell anymore. It's becoming a ghost town."
"What about you? The reservation?"
"A lot of them have left. Others have been killed. There's no one around to take care of us. The ones supposed to be keeping us from harm-the government-they're the ones who are killing us, now. We're just in the way."
"Was-was River Dog in the way?"
"I suppose he was. He wanted to help them, you know. The young ones they've taken. So they killed him."
Max swallowed, feeling near tears for the first time in weeks. "How far is it to the facility?"
"Not far, not far at all." She nodded toward the road. "Just keep going on that way. You can't miss it. But I wouldn't, if I were you."
"You're one of them, aren't you?"
"One of what?"
"From the crash? All those years ago? I don't remember, I was too little, but my father always used to tell me about it."
"Who was your father?"
"River Dog," she said softly. "Be careful, little one."
Liz awakened to find herself outside the wreckage of the bus. She touched her head gingerly, and discovered that it was bleeding. How long had she been here?
And oh God, the baby...Liz moaned and winced at the pain it caused to get up. She could get up, though, and she knew that was a good thing. She stumbled over to the crumpled Greyhound and looked inside.
There was no one there. No blood, no bodies laying around. It was as though she had been the only one aboard. But she could remember the screams...and she knew she hadn't been the one crying out in terror. Liz looked up to see how far away the road was. It was a steep drop of fifty feet to the roadside. In ordinary conditions she probably could have made it, but now she was certain she could not. There was just no way she could get up that hill. She'd have to find another way.
She stared up and down the edge of the ravine. The grade of the hill appeared to lessen as it went on in both directions. So it was left or right.
She chose left, gripping the dirt sides of the ravine as she walked along. She had to get help. She didn't know what had happened to the other passengers, but she had to get to a hospital. She had to see if she had miscarried her baby. It couldn't be possible, just when she had gotten used to the whole idea of being a mother.
She looked into the sky, and studied the wispy, cottony clouds. She rubbed her face and tried to concentrate. Was it the blood loss making her like this? Her mind felt as though it were sinking into her feet.
She heard crunching noises behind her, and turned around. There was no one there. Then they were behind her again. She turned around, and once again there was nothing.
Liz sank to the ground and began to cry. It was all too much. What was going on? There was no way this could be coincidence, no possible way...
Then she felt the crunch of someone hitting her over the head, and the world went black yet again.
"Do you have her? Do you have her?" Marcus could hear the shouts over the cell phone. He shifted the young girl in his arms. She was surprisingly light, and he suspected that she hadn't been eating right. "Bad, bad girl," he clucked. "We've gotta take care of that baby, don't we?"
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