Aftershock CC mature pg 5, ch 17, Apr 18, 2016 complete

This is the place to post all your General Roswell fanfiction. Any Canon fics, which pick up directly from any episode of the show and that focus on Max/Liz, Michael/Maria, Isabel/Alex or Isabel/Jesse, Kyle/Tess, or all the couples together! Rule of Thumb: If Max healed Liz in the Crashdown in September 1999, then your fic belongs here. If it picks up from the show in any way, it belongs here.

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ken_r
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Aftershock CC mature pg 5, ch 17, Apr 18, 2016 complete

Postby ken_r » Fri Apr 24, 2015 1:47 pm

Aftershock

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Title: Aftershock
Author: ken_r, AKA ken242, Kenneth Renouard
Genera: Canon
Couples CC
Rating: mature
Disclaimer: Roswell characters are not mine. I just offer an alternative ending to the story

Summary: Sometime after their road trip, while running from the Special Unit, Max, Liz and Isabel, now older, were captured by the Skins. Some how the “Skins” had taken over the Eagle Rock facility owned by the special unit. Whatever the Skins did to them at Eagle Rock, those captured were never the same. The ones who cared for them also suffered greatly. They were separated, all the time hiding and not knowing whether the others were alive or dead. They all did what they had to, to survive. There is some similarity to Liz Come back . In that story it was only Liz who suffered and she was surrounded by all her friends. Now, it is all of them who are crippled. Can they someway unite to heal each other or will they just drift as they have been doing? Jesse brings the power of the Evans Law Firm against the FBI, while Michael and Isabel bring the threat of adult Antarian royalty against any advances from the Skins. Michael was right, separate they were safer, but now, they need each other to heal. The Skins are still around probing for weaknesses.

The story is a bit disconnected because what they remember from one time to the next changes. You can accept the history from the episodes. The characters continue being confused.

Aftershock

Doctor Evans was standing at the podium where he had just delivered his lecture. For once, his lecture was crisp and clear, today. His dark hair was rumpled and his glasses drooped down his nose. He hated peering over them, but they just wouldn’t stay up. His shirt was clean, at least it started that way. His jacket was worn, but why buy a new one. It wasn’t as if his students stood in judgment as to his dress code. Besides he took this one to the cleaners once a week. It still wouldn’t hold a crease for more than one day. The chalk dust had settled on the arms where he brushed against the board. There were white and yellow streaks along the length of the sleeves. Max used whatever chalk the lecturer before him had left. Sometimes when he needed to smudge out something on the board, he used his elbow. His wool and synthetic pants like wise didn’t hold a crease any longer. They broke just at the top of his shoes and sometimes the legs hung at the rear allowing the back of the pants to be worn from being crushed under his heel.

As brilliant as he was, the doc was apt to sometimes forget the subject of the lecture. Max had been known to talk for times about the structure of cells to a Physical Chemistry class or to explain the microscope to a post-graduate Genetics class.

Max had tenure and he published regularly. During the times he was lucid, Max was brilliant. The two doctors Evans together, were legendary. The University would not fire Max, but he wasn’t going anywhere. His friends all surrounded him. They knew that Max was just no longer excited about life or anything else that was real. They thought that maybe he slipped into his realm of fantasy many times just to dodge responsibility. Only a few of his closest friends really understood what had happened. Only the oldest at the university knew what they the owed both the professors Evans.

-------------------

Max looked up. He heard violins playing softly. Often, he would hear music in his fantasies. He never questioned from where it came. All the students had left except for one. She was a small blond lady who had been sitting at the rear of the room. Max saw that she licked her lips and made them glisten with moisture. Max saw that there was something about her eyes. They were a bright blue that even from the rear of the room stood out. Max felt his body tingle with emotion as standing she began to unbutton her blouse. She opened the blouse and showed two beautiful pert and upright breasts. Max asked himself where had he seen those breasts before? They gently swayed as she walked. Max was transfixed as he watched her nipples dance. Her creamy white skin hypnotized Max as he watched her. Some place Max was sure that he had seen her breasts and more of her besides, but he couldn’t remember where. He was having trouble breathing. He could smell her perfume and also an animal musk about her. There was something about this woman who brought memories from his past. As she approached she created in Max both foreboding and excited feelings. Max leaned down as she approached the stage on which he stood. As Max leaned toward the half-naked girl he breathed, “Tess?”

-------------------

“Professor, my name is Susan Ritter,” the girl said sharply in her Wisconsin twang not the soft winey voice Max was expecting. “I answered question #5. See here, it says continue on the back. I should have gotten full credit for that one,” the fully clothed blonde said in between the sudden fit of coughing that hit Doctor Evans. She stood there, chomping her chewing gun daring Max to challenge her.

Max took her paper. “My dear, I am so sorry. I just missed that. Let me have the paper and I will correct it and make a note of the grade change,” He apologetically said to her.

The little blond student almost threw the paper back at Max as she whirled and stalked out of the classroom. The old fart was so senile that she could have faked the answer if she had wanted.

-----------------

Again, the violins played as she walked towards the door. Her blouse now hanging down from her swaying hips as she stately walked out of the room leaving Max to stare at her bare back. Max saw her as she reached behind to lower the zipper of her skirt. Released of its support at her waistband, her blouse fluttered across the floor, this was followed by her skirt as her swaying walk worked it down over her hips. Just before she opened the door she gave her hips a twist as she pulled down her slip. Max marveled at the change of her step as her garments now fell to her ankles. As she left, Max saw the pink backs of her bare legs as they flexed without any other support. Max saw that she was wearing bikini panties with little butterflies embroidered around the waist. That snow white back. Somewhere in his memory, Max had run his hands over that back. He knew that he had felt the softness of those creamy legs. As the door closed behind her Max sighed. Not only the vision he had seen, but the cast off garments she left, now, were gone. Max was left with a memory that he knew was also fading fast. Soon, this memory would be little more than a shade of what he had been thinking as she walked up to the podium along with the mixed emotions she had created.

-------------------

Max took a deep breath. He gathered his papers, making a special note to go over the blonde’s test paper. He would be generous in the second grading. The dean had already received too many complaints about Professor Evans.

Max walked down the hall and through the door into the bright sunshine. It was bright, somewhere Max had once been, the sun was a deep, dull red and the colors were not so vivid.

--------------------

The drums beat. That incessant beat that you could only hear in the jungle. Doctor Max Evans hacked his way through the undergrowth. The natives had stated that the fungus grew ahead in a grove of papa-papa trees. Now the papa-papa tree was very dangerous. Its leaves carried a poison much worse than poison ivy. To many lessor men, the poison proved fatal. Max had carried the extra weight of the Hazmat (hazardous materials) suit, in his pack all the way from the coast. Max was prepared for this moment. The natives had assured the professor that the fungus cured boils, acne, hemorrhoids and brain tumors. They assured Max that the fungus would cure her from what ever hid her from him. Whatever it was hiding her, sometimes, made Max have a hard time remembering her, even though he knew how important she was to him. Few men were strong enough to brave the papa-papa trees to get to the fungus. Max was being highly paid by a pharmaceutical company to obtain this prize. That wasn’t what was driving him. The natives had assured Max that the fungus would bring her back. For that, Max would have faced the papa papa trees naked. Max was well known in the village. He had been there for several years. When he announced his quest to the village, the elders had just shook their heads. Many of the young maidens had broken down crying. Max had tried to sooth them. “I will be back. There has never been a challenge that I have not over come. If by chance I fail, remember me tenderly and bless the children,” he regally stated as he stood before the many nubile young women holding children all with amber eyes. Yes, Max had been at the village for many years. Even if his heart was taken, Max was still a super person. The children proved it.

Max did not intend to fail.

-------------------

“Hey, Max,” a chemistry lab instructor yelled. “You forgot the department meeting yesterday. I made notes for you and got you a copy of the forms you have to fill out for this years salary deductions.” The young man said.

The abrupt silence caused Max to shake his head. He was now near the offices of the chemistry professors. Edward or was it Timothy, Max couldn’t remember. The lad had been a good teaching assistant long ago. He was still one of those who thought fondly of the absent-minded professor.

Edward Crawford had been Max’s protégée for most of his college life. Between Doctor Max Evans and Doctor Elizabeth Parker- Evans, Ed thought that his education had been even better than if he had gone to an expensive Ivy League school, back east.

Max finally found his way to his office. There was no one waiting at the door for him. Max wasn’t surprised. Students did not want consultations with professors who might forget, not only their names, but also, the classes they were taking from him and maybe, what classes he was teaching. Before he could forget, Max took out the paper of the little blonde. Tess Harding, had he ever heard that name before? Max had given her half credit for what he saw on the front of the paper. The questions were each worth ten points. Max turned the paper to the back and counted off the points she had made in her answer. She had three points, more or less. Well, Max would give her now, eight points for the answer, now, that he had seen the second part and he raised her grade accordingly. But, he gave the grade to one Susan Ritter not Tess Harding.

The office was in an old building. The air conditioning fans and vents raised a tremendous fuss. It was almost like the drums in the jungle.

--------------------

Max had decided to go the rest of the way alone. It was good to get away from the incessant noise. The wind blowing through the upper canyon was soothing. The canyon was narrow and several of the others, with him, had sustained injury to their feet and ankles walking the dangerous path. It was said that the cave up ahead was not Pueblo or any other Native American origin. It was whispered that it was of the ancient ones who not only carved the cave out of solid rock but also had left ceramic vessels, which had mysterious ointments. For his knowledge of ancient people, Doctor Max Evans could only thank the fact that his wife had made him take a beginning anthropology course that summer. Those few who had seen the cave all said the properties of the ointment were legend. It was said to cure boils, acne, hemorrhoids and brain tumors, maybe even sore feet. The old Mexican curendaro who sat at the entrance of the canyon, beating a single faced drum, had assured Max that the ointment would be sure to bring “her” back. Even thinking about the ointment brought visions of the small, dark-haired woman who had been so important in Max’s life.

Max would obtain some of this ointment, take it back to the rest of the expedition and thus healed they could all make it out of this devilish canyon. Max would also keep a little of the ointment to analyze in the lab. When he had synthesized enough, he could again search for his one true love. He, again, would be famous for his gift to mankind. He, again, could afford to be happy with his true love. Max could feel the rush of a cold wind. On the canyon floor the temperature must be over a hundred degrees. Most of the rest of the expedition were falling to heat stroke. They had been rationing their water. Not Max, he drank his allotment and taking several empty canteens with him declared, “The cave is reported to have a spring with great healing properties. I will return with the ointment and sufficient water to get us back.”

Max was now near the cave. He could see the spring. It ended in a waterfall, which caused the cool breezes he felt. The path to the cave was swarming with rattlesnakes. Max was assured that the road to his true love would, also, be swarming with rattlesnakes. Max had on snake proof boots, but there was no way they would last the trip to the cave. One or more snakes would undoubtedly manage to get through the tough leather. It would only take one. Max looked back. Along the path were tumbleweeds, better known as Russian thistle, blown in by the winds above on the flats. Max hurriedly gathered the weeds and setting them afire, he proceeded toward the cave as the snakes scurried from the flames. When the weeds burned down Max would gather more. Soon he reached the cave, his thick snakeproof boots protecting his feet from the hot embers. Max filled the canteens and gathered one of the jars of ointment. Max could only imagine the cheers when he returned to his expedition. Max could only imagine the cheers when he brought back his one true love.

------------------

The abruptness of being dropped out of his dream startled Max. The single faced drum gave way to the rattling of the air conditioning machinery. He was back in the office with the noisy fans making thought, much less conversation, almost impossible. His best and probably, now, his only remaining friend, was calling to him from the door. “Max,” Michael called above the noise. “We are supposed to have a beer with the guys.”

Max caught himself. It would not do to show annoyance to Michael. Except for his sister, Isabel, whom he hadn’t seen in over ten years or so, Michael was the only sure conduit Max had to the real world. “Yeah, yeah, Mike, I will be ready in a minute,” he replied.

In therapy, Max had been told that he should get a firmer grip on reality. For a while, Max tried this. Reality was the memory of the white room; it was the laughs as the other-worldly technicians regaled Max with the stories of what they were doing to Liz, a mere human. Max had tried to hold on to this for a while. There was no way he could tell the therapist about this reality. He had no idea of what had happened to Liz or Maria, her best friend, or even Kyle. Maria had not been caught by the Skins, but Michael had asked her to drive the get away car along with Kyle when he made the rescue. Max remembered Michael carrying him to the entrance and he remembered Isabel helping to hold him up. Then, there was the blast. Nothing could survive the blast. It blew the three of them out of the building. Isabel and Max had survived what was planned for them in the white room and with Michael’s help, they got away.

Michael could never forgive himself for involving Maria in this. He also had feelings for Kyle, but Kyle was a friend and Maria was a lover. There was a difference.

-------------------

The band played “Hail to the Chief.” The president of the United States himself had called. Max heard him even over the roar of the machinery. Max immediately came to attention. It would never do to ignore a call to attend to one’s country. Max stood and stiffly walked to where his jacket was hung near the door. When facing the president one should always stand straight and show proper respect. Max was sure the president wanted him to rescue some damsel or maybe, an entire troop of soldiers, which had gotten pinned down. Maybe, the president had received information about Liz.

-----------------

“Earth to Max,” Michael called. Maybe he should have said Antar to Max. No one knew where Max fled to avoid facing the world now days. Max wasn’t always like this. Max and Michael had grown up in the small town of Roswell, New Mexico. Neither of them knew where they had been born. Max had been the adopted son of a successful lawyer and Michael had been the boy across the tracks, a child of the welfare system. Neither of them were completely human.

“Look, Max, Isabel insists that you spend at least three hours a week among people. She requires you not only spend time there, but that you at least attempt to interact. The past is gone and you have to plan ahead for a future. Everything was lost. You won’t find it anywhere. Make new memories and new friends. Make them real, not those fantasies you live in,” Michael instructed. For a brief moment of lucidity Max wondered, whom Michael was talking to. Michael had lost as much as he had. Maybe even more as Max had grown up in a safe family with adopted parents and a loving sister. Maria had been all Michael ever had. Then, the shades of fantasy were again pulled down and Max felt safe.

----------------

As they entered the bar, Max felt the blowing wind. He heard the trumpets play to assembly. The lost patrol had been sighted somewhere in these dunes. The noise of the students and faculty in the bar faded into the howling wind and distant trumpet. Sometimes these storms lasted for weeks. The president had trusted Max to be diligent until he rescued the missing soldiers. If he couldn’t see through the storm, maybe, he could follow the call of the trumpets. Max could feel the wind pressing against him as he walked. From time to time, he was jostled as the gusts of wind pushed him from one side to the other. The noise was deafening. Max could almost hear cries of those lost in the winds. Sometimes it was as if he could hear a woman crying.

---------------

Michael felt Max slip away as they walked through the throng of students and faculty. As usual they grouped themselves by departments. The dean of the university encouraged these gatherings. He believed that it would encourage interdepartmental communications. Max hated them. Michael hated them. They rightfully believed the gatherings would encourage the worst in the different professors. The university didn’t have the climate to break down intellectual walls.

Professor Steve Jenson sober was an ass. Wasn’t it comedian Bill Cosby who once said that if drugs enhanced the personality, what happened if the guy started out a jerk? Bill Cosby would have seen himself proved right, if he had been there. “Lets drink to professor Walter Mitty,” Jenson yelled over the noise of the bar.
Jenson clearly wasn’t sober now.
http://www.all-story.com/issues.cgi?act ... ory_id=100

---------------

Max heard Jenson but the wind blew any sense of what he said away from Max. Max tried to ignore the professor’s rude remarks as he plowed through the blowing sand. Max was seeking the “Lost Patrol,” not some drunk professor. There had to be some fantasy world where the Jensons of this world would be banned.

--------------

Jenson was a professor in the biology department. He never let a chance go by without saying something to the confused Max. Jenson privately stated, “It is a crime that the university doesn’t give that fool the sack.” Jenson never knew the Evans family when it was complete. Usually some of the other professors would come to Max’s side.

----------------

Max was stubborn about it. He was going to eat at the Crashdown. Michael finally sighed. Michael knew that he was going to give in. After all Max treated Michael like a brother. He never looked down at the boy who nobody wanted. Max and his sister always supported Michael. Was it too much for Michael to indulge Max as he sat and dreamed about the impossible? Michael held the door while he and Max entered. Being a sophomore in high school was not easy. Michael was very bright, he would have tested “gifted” if a teacher could have made him sit still long enough to take a test. He and Max hid their secret and because of this they couldn’t afford to let anyone get close.

The girls had been best friends forever. They had been working in the restaurant even before they were old enough to be legal to do so. Her father owned the place. He demanded the girls give their work their full attention, but he was proud of both of them. The girls darted about the dinning room. Their hairpieces bobbing like some insect antennas and their short skirts flapping to show the backs of their thighs, gave Max all the entertainment he wanted. It was the almost impossible UFO days in Roswell. People were arriving for the excitement from all over. The restaurant was full. Max let his concentration drift. There were two men in the front of the room talking. The blonde waitress tried to politely refill their coffee. She was making the gesture even though the men had ordered nothing but coffee. “Get out of here,” was the first indication of trouble, this was followed by one man clearing the table, with a sweep of his arm and someone shouting, “I want my money, now,”

Max heard a “shot.”

-----------------

Max heard a “shout.”

-------------------

“Hey, you,” Jenson shouted. “I am talking to you.” Max had only a moment to wonder why he couldn’t ever get further than this into the Crashdown fantasy. Max, also, began to wonder what had happened to the fierce winds.

Jenson had his hand on Max’s arm. Max had that perpetually confused look about him. He was looking at Jenson and shaking his head. It did not appear that Max even knew who this Jenson was. That infuriated Jenson even more. “Evans, you are a loony bastard. Why in the hell can’t the university fire your ass?” Jenson finished.

Jenson felt his arm in an iron grip. “Maybe, because they remember what the Evanses did for the university. That sign over the Evans Laboratory was earned by the advances both of the Evanses made as graduate students. They earned enough in that one discovery to finance the entire chemistry lab for ten years,” Michael held tightly to Jenson’s arm. Michael didn’t like public displays of violence, but he was always there for Max, even that day so long ago when they heard the shot in the Crashdown. Michael was clear about what happened that day, but he had given up trying to relate the details to Max. Every time Michael tried to relate the story, Max would cloud up and his mind would drift. Michael wasn’t sure where it drifted. Reality was something Max didn’t want to face. That was part of Max’s problem. He couldn’t face any thing that might have happen to Doctor Liz Parker-Evans, past or present.

Max was still shaking his head when Michael led him out of the bar. So much, for Isabel’s ideas. Izzy was so sure that if they just got Max out so he was exposed to more people, maybe someway, Max would return to them. She hated to hear that her brother was like this.

Once back in his apartment something jogged Max’s memory. He had to change the grade in his grade book of that blonde girl. Let’s see what was her name, Tess Harding. Max carefully read down the attendance list. There was no Tess Harding. Max examined the test paper again, it said, “Susan Ritter.” Now where did he get the name of Tess Harding? Something in his mind said he knew a Tess Harding. Did he know a Susan Ritter? He must know her, he was correcting the grade on her paper. Tess Harding, he knew those bare breasts and those panties with butterflies embroidered at the waist. Max was sure that he more than knew her, he just couldn’t remember where or how. The intimate thoughts about her were worrisome to him. Max was sure that at one time, he had seen Tess Harding in that way, naked and walking towards him. Why was he back to looking back for Tess Harding, who ever that was, naked or partly naked? He just couldn’t remember. The breasts, panties, blue eyes and naked body all belonged to someone known as Tess Harding.

Stories by Ken
Last edited by ken_r on Mon Apr 18, 2016 3:22 pm, edited 20 times in total.
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
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History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
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L-J-L 76
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Re: Aftershock CC mature Apr, 24, 2015

Postby L-J-L 76 » Fri Apr 24, 2015 3:32 pm

Ken
Interesting start. What happened to Liz, Maria and Kyle? Are Max and Liz still married? Where is Isabel?


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keepsmiling7
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Re: Aftershock CC mature Apr, 24, 2015

Postby keepsmiling7 » Sat Apr 25, 2015 8:25 am

It does my heart good to see you starting a new story Ken!
Well, this is a different Max.......certainly not what I would have expected from him as he aged.
I'm sure you have much to tell us as to why he is in this sad condition.
And remembering Tess......this is a mystery in itself.
Guess the White Room did more damage than we can ever imagine.
Glad to see Michael still alive and friends with Max.
Looking forward to more.

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Re: Aftershock CC mature Apr, 24, 2015

Postby begonia9508 » Sat Apr 25, 2015 8:29 am

Hey Ken! Nice to have you back... I now have an answer to what you were doing, after your last story was done! :wink:

Poor Max! I don't know what they did to him but he is living into a twilight reality and it's sad!

Anyway, I am waiting for more about the others! Thanks EVE :?
- Les jouissances de l'esprit sont faites pour calmer les orages du coeur!
- On reconnaît le bonheur au bruit qu'il fait quand il s'en va!
- L'amour vous rend aveugle et le mariage vous redonne la vue!

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Re: Aftershock CC mature Apr, 24, 2015

Postby ken_r » Wed May 06, 2015 12:08 pm

Begonia9508I don't know why, but it was so much harder to write this time than it was a few years ago.

keepsmiling7: Something terrible happened and all of the characters are badly damaged, "Aftershock."

L-J-L 76: What happened to all of them slowly develops in the story. Yes, Max and Liz are married.


Chapter 2

Ria Jones was a modern phenomenon. She appeared, apparently out of no-where. No reporter, to date, had discovered anything about her past. They had stolen her fingerprints, but unless a person has been arrested or in someway been finger printed for their job. The fingerprints told nothing. Tabloids would make up stories, but they were quickly deflated as false. Not only, did she have a voice of an angel, albeit a bit smoky for being truly angelic, but she presented scandals and mystery. The scandals were real, the mystery was unsolved.

The earliest record was of her singing was in a bar somewhere in west Texas. Everyone there had believed that she was a nice girl, but Ria made it clear that she was singing for money. Those days in Amarillo Texas were a dim memory in her mind and she hoped did not surface in the minds of her fans. Singing for Money, but Ria had almost no saving account and her dresses and gowns were always of modest cost. This added more to the mystery around her. As her fame rose, Ria’s actions became even more confusing. The nice girl, Ria, posed for “Playboy.” Every boy over the age of 16 had a famous picture of her posed sitting on a bed, her legs crossed and the mirror behind her showing her bare back and the crack of her butt. Her round bare breasts still supported by youth made the poster a thing to possess and hide from one’s parents. Boys would grow up hoping that the first girl they had in the back seat of their first car would, in someway, look like Ria Jones.

Playboy chose her for her fresh youthful look. Her open and beautiful face, that nice girl face, made the photographers think of a virginal honeymoon about to take place and they had been lucky to be there before she was defrocked by the groom. The reality of her life since the explosion had not yet tainted her body nor her personality. Ria made sure that she was well paid for that picture. Now, Ria made her public life a trip from one scandalous affair to another, all paying very well, for a “nice girl.” Except to those closest to her that nice girl image faded. Her private life was something else. Ria collected a lot of money from many places. Her public was not sure where she spent it.

It would be years before it was discovered that every cent that Ria made, went towards the medical bills of her sister. Ria used her own body for all that it was worth. Those early months singing in country western bars in Amarillo had been hard. She remembered that one night when she made the decision that she and her sister Beth would survive, Ria had been sitting at the bar drinking ginger ale. Ria never drank alcohol when she was singing. She had seen too many young singers fail, their voices become course and harsh as they sometimes slurred their lines, their pitch falter as the booze deadened their judgment. A good-looking cowboy came up and asked her to dance. There were a lot of cowboys in Amarillo then, all working in the oilfields. At the time, Ria was lonesome for any kind of companionship. There was only her and Beth. Beth was rapidly slipping away. Beth needed medical attention so badly, not the kind at the free clinic, but professional attention where her privacy would be respected, but consideration that she needed help would be provided.

Dancing with Scott was a pleasure. It had been so long since Ria had felt strong arms holding her body. Suddenly, she felt one arm move and he stuffed a folded hundred dollar bill in her bodice, between her breasts. “Darl’n, will yu’all come to my room to night?” he asked.

There was a moment of fierce indignation in Ria. What did this cowboy think she was? Then reality set in. She barely had enough money in her purse to keep the cheap motel room they were living in for another night.

This was a big jump for Maria. Previously, her sex life had been centered around Michael. Once she asked Liz, “Do you suppose loving aliens will spoil us for any other men?” There had been that one time when her friend from the eighth grade came by. He had dropped out of high school and Maria was still a senior. She and Michael were fighting as usual. Her mother was out of town and more to take a slap at Michael and his apparent indifference, than anything else, Maria asked Billy to spend the weekend with her.

The weekend was a bit of a disappointment to Maria, but Billy thought he was in love. Billy had experienced a few high school girls, but nothing like Maria. There was something about screwing Maria that he had never before experienced. Billy tried to talk her into going with him to the city, but Maria thinking of so many things; her mother, her true feelings for Michael, her friendship with Liz, so she let him go.

At the motel, Scott was no Michael. He was no high school dropout like Billy either. He was more like that big friendly St Bernard down the street, stumbling over his own feet. Scott had more in common with a jack rabbit than he wanted to admit. To him, sex was quick and he would be out of there. For him, he expected his hundred dollars to buy him an expensive thrill. Holding Ria in his arms, he saw something he had never seen before. Scott saw himself the way Ria saw him. He saw yearning for tenderness that he never had thought a woman might want. Scott might look at this as just hauling off his ashes, but Ria wanted to be held, kissed and cradled like something that was treasured. For more than a couple minutes, Maria wanted to be important.

When he finally came up for air, Scott stood up and still naked, walked over to his jeans. He rummaged through his pockets and came up with a wad of bills. “Ria, Darl’n, there is over five hundred dollars here. Is that enough to stay until morning?

Ria didn’t know what to say. She could go home with six hundred dollars plus the tips and pay she got for her night of singing. She really wasn’t doing anything that she didn’t want to, sort of.

Scott was a clean-cut simple boy. No one had ever discussed with him the properties of multiple orgasms. No one had ever talked with him about sex being one of the highest art forms. When he left Ria that morning he would barely have enough of his paycheck to last through the week. But, he would have something else that no one could ever take away from him. You can’t put a price on some memories. Scott would never believe he hadn’t gotten his money’s worth.

She solicited gifts by innuendo, from whomever she was with. Ria was a high maintenance girl. To meet Ria, it took flowers and presents. It was not widely known that Ria, eventually, sold all of these gifts to pay expenses. It was clear that the gifts got you an introduction, but to take the relationship further, it took real cash. Ria might go home with a producer, but no one was ever allowed to come home with her. As her fame increased, likewise did her protection of her private life along with that of her sister. Also, the price of the pleasure of her company multiplied. If he expected more than a dinner date, that producer better have a hefty envelope stuffed with hundred dollar bills. The allure of being with her could not easily be explained. You paid for a piece of ass, but you took with you dreams and experience that were hard to describe. Of course, no one knew that this was the result of having a woman who had slept with aliens.

“Beth, I am home,” Ria shouted as she closed the door. Her home had two parts. The outer part was peopled by her bodyguards or rather the bodyguards of her sister, two men chosen by Kyle. The men sat at the table with an air of indifference. Maria knew better. Work for Kyle and you better be good at you job.

They both nodded at Maria and Maria breathed a sigh of relief. She knew that both hers and Beth’s privacy was protected. The inner part of her apartment was darkened by curtains, pulled across the windows. Beth still, could not stand direct sunlight. She had a nurse living on the premises. The reporters had targeted Beth’s other nurses before. Except that Beth had been badly burned and she was in great depression, the nurses could say little. Now, the security of Beth’s person was held by a private nurse, very well paid. She had also been informed by Ria’s step-brother, Kyle, that if anything got out about Beth, accidents could be arranged. One look at Ria’s stepbrother, and very few wanted to tempt betrayal. That held true for the bodyguards, also. Besides that there was always the pay. Nurse Adkins had several brothers who made their way, dodging conventional society. She recognized and understood Kyle in her brothers. Later when the nurse learned to know both Ria and Beth she found that she, likewise, wanted to protect the strange woman who only sat and stared at the wall.

Beth was sitting in a corner looking at the curtained window. It was as if she was trying to see something through those dark curtains. Whatever that something was, Beth was never able to make it known, even to her sister. It was as if Beth was talking very slow, taking hours to form one phrase or sentence. No one knew that this had been her way to put off the interrogators in the white room. Beth had lowered her speed of comprehension so that studying her was a slow process indeed.

“How was your day, hon,” Ria said. She didn’t expect much answer from Beth and was not disappointed when Beth remained looking at the curtain.

“I signed up to produce another album,” Ria stated. “All the songs are new and I hope it will be a good seller.”

Beth remained showing little interest. It wasn’t as if Beth couldn’t speak. After a lot of therapy, she could carry on a fairly coherent conversation, all be it, very slowly and very short, but only if she wanted to. Any topic Beth discussed was probably found at random. Beth just didn’t care. She had probably formed her dialog from hours, days, weeks, maybe, of sitting staring at the curtain. From the brief periods of coherence Beth would retreat to that other world of slow motion. Her analyst had the same problems her interrogators had before. Beth couldn’t stop what was happening, but she could slow it down. For the longest time Ria had kept Beth under a suicide watch. Now, Ria saw that Beth was not even interested in what went on around her enough to consider killing herself. Beth just didn’t care. Beth could never tell Ria about the darkness and the screams, which Beth learned were her own. She remembered the technicians and what they did to her. A few times Beth attempted to tell Ria what had happened. The words just wouldn’t come. Finally, Beth quit trying to relate anything. She would occasionally talk, but she never related any useful information.

This broke Ria’s heart. All the years growing up Ria had turned to Beth as the smart one. Ria pretended that she had been the leader, but she always realized that it was Beth who did things first. Every good thing in Ria’s life came from being with Beth.

Ria remembered her first boyfriend and later first lover. Beth had been the first to enter the alien abyss. Ria had dutifully followed. They all had been different, then. The start of her relationship with Michael, had been slow. Michael was cursed with what Maria thought of as shyness and also, responsibility. It took Ria a long time to recognize Michael’s bluster, it took Ria a long time to break through that shyness and finally, the stonewall of responsibility.

Many times, youth mistakes ideals with which they have grown up for sacrifices of abstinence. It was for Ria to break down that stonewall and show her first lover that letting her into his life enriched it, not crippled it. Probably, the pressure of believing in a permanent and immediate departure from Earth gave Michael courage. If he was going to hold an Earth woman in his arms, it had to be now. He was never sure if he had planned a seduction or a confession. When Ria finally understood what was to happen, it was Ria who pushed the young man down on the couch and later rolled over to allow him to remove her clothes. This became Ria’s crutch. When she was at a photo shoot and the photographer stated that now it was time to disrobe, Ria let her mind run back to that first time. Every time a john slipped her the envelope stuffed with bills, Maria thought of that first night with Michael. That had been the first time she ever stood before a boy/man naked for his approval. That had been the first time Maria thought she was in love. Now, Ria did it for the money, but it was always Michael, who gave her the courage. Ria, was forever in debt to him. Many times, she wondered where he was. Was he even alive? Only with Kyle’s help had she survived. No living thing could survive that blast. Now, Ria had responsibility. Someone had to care for and protect Beth. She barely had time to wonder if Michael had made it.

--------------------

“I signed up for another photo shoot. I insisted it be a singles shoot. Those photographers are almost porn producers. I don’t intend to allow myself to be caught in that kind of situation, again,” Ria informed Beth.

In the days of hidden cameras, a girl could never be too careful. There had been that one time, early on, when the man who took Ria to his home seemed so tender and generous that Ria let her guard down. He had generously backed several of her recordings. Ria needed some down time. She dearly loved her sister, Beth, but Beth’s care was wearing. Maria had been promised a weekend and it had been relaxing and enjoyable. The envelope, he had slipped her, as she left was promising, also. It was one of her managers who later told Ria about the video tape. It seemed that she had been recorded the whole time.

Her step-brother paid the man a visit. Kyle wasn’t a big man, but he was forceful. The producer’s two bodyguards, left in the foyer with broken bones, helped convince the producer to surrender the tapes. He also understood that if anything like this was to surface in the future, accidents could be arranged and bodies did have a bad habit of disappearing. The moans from the front of the house punctuated that last statement. Ria became careful about anything that might not turn into a simple photo shoot. Ria would take off her clothes for money, but she would not tolerate any session that might include another model not acting in her best interest.
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-

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begonia9508
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Re: Aftershock CC mature Apr, 24, 2015

Postby begonia9508 » Wed May 06, 2015 12:29 pm

Hey Ken, I must admit that I like this story really much, of all the stories you wrote! : :shock:

Maria looking and taking care for Liz is really courageous and beautiful, in the same time...
And I am waiting for more and especially an explanation of what's happened, back then in Roswell...
even if I can imagine...

Thanks! EVE :mrgreen:
- Les jouissances de l'esprit sont faites pour calmer les orages du coeur!
- On reconnaît le bonheur au bruit qu'il fait quand il s'en va!
- L'amour vous rend aveugle et le mariage vous redonne la vue!

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Re: Aftershock CC mature ch 2 May 8, 2015

Postby keepsmiling7 » Fri May 08, 2015 1:11 pm

I am so curious now.......it appears that terrible things have happened since Liz and Maria were young in Roswell.
Can't you just see Maria singing in a bar in Amarillo with all of the cowboys! That would fit her to a "t".
It appears Liz and Maria did survive.......but what did they survive?
Hate to hear that Liz was burned so bad.
Hurry back Ken......I want to know what has happened.

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Re: Aftershock CC mature ch 2 May 8, 2015

Postby L-J-L 76 » Fri May 08, 2015 10:08 pm

Ken
Another great! Please please please please please please come back and post more really really really really soon? I can't wait to read what will happen next for Max, Liz and friends. I'm sorry to read that Liz got burned. I'm glad that Maria and Kyle are there for Liz. Hopefully Liz will start talking again. Hopefully Liz will tell Maria what happened in the white room. I'm glad that Maria and Kyle are trying to get Liz to talk again. Hopefully Liz will talk. Are Liz, Maria and Kyle not with Max, Isabel and Michael? Will Max, Isabel and Michael remember Liz, Maria and Kyle? Will Max, Isabel and Michael be able to find Liz, Maria and Kyle? What will happen when they find each other? Will Max and Liz remember they are married? Will Max and Liz fall in love again? Will Max and Liz remember their love? What will Max, Liz and friends do when they see each other? Will Max, Liz and friends be safe from the white room? Will Max, Liz and friends all be together again? Sorry for the questions but I was just wondering. Please please please please please please come back and post more really really really really soon? I can't wait to read what will happen next for Max, Liz and friends.

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Re: Aftershock CC mature ch 2 May 8, 2015

Postby ken_r » Sun May 17, 2015 10:26 am

L-J-L 76: Liz has to see a reason to come out. Remember she can bearly remember Max and when she does he is gone, to where, she doesn't know.

keepsmiling7:

Begonia9508:

Chapter 3


Nurse Sharon Adkins entered the room. She was always amazed at the willingness, Ria Jones had in her sacrifices for her sister. At first, Nurse Adkins felt contempt for the young singer. She, in her protestant mind saw Ria as little better than a tramp, a girl who slept around. Nurse Adkins had seen the Playboy layout and her imbedded ethic said it was scandalous. Then, she learned of the money, Ria charged for her companionship to very rich men. It was the same money, which kept Sharon Adkins there. The longer she stayed, the more Nurse Adkins was convinced that the singer was truly a saint. She now saw in the young woman, a person who was willing to sacrifice both body and soul to keep her sister alive and attempt to bring her back from where ever she had fled. “We had a fair day. She was talking about a husband. Is he still alive?” Nurse Adkins asked.

Ria sat in a chair. “We don’t know. We barely got her out of the fire alive. It was only by the efforts of my stepbrother, Kyle, that she was saved at all. We had been running from them for years.” The “them,” had taken on so many faces Maria had once wondered if any of her group would live. “They could have been rogue elements of the government,” Ria continued. “Lord knows they pursued us for long enough. It could have been those others, the ones from another place. They were even worse. They wanted to kill those we were with. Beth’s husband was the one they most wanted dead. The fire was probably directed at him anyway. One of our party once said, ‘Together, we are a target. Only if we all strike out separately can we find safety.’ I don’t know if he was right, but we did separate and we have lasted several years. At that time none of us expected to see 21. Now, we don’t know how to safely find each other again.”

Considering the number of photo shoots Ria took part in, there were no modern pictures of her in their apartment. You might wonder that these photo shoots would have alerted their enemies. Ria wasn’t worried because the parts that men looked at in her pictures were not anything she had ever shared with the enemy. There were a few pictures in their home, one of several young people getting ready for a prom, another taken in front of an old VW bus.

For a celebrity of her stature, Ria Jones posted nothing on social media. There were many Ria Jones fan clubs who followed her closely and posted every scandal they could think of. This wasn’t impressive as Ria created enough true scandals on her own. She didn’t need rumor. There might be many comments, but none of them were ever made by “The Ria Jones.”

For a singer as wanton as she appeared to be, Ria almost never missed mass on Sunday. Occasionally, Ria asked Nurse Adkins to help her fix Beth up to go to church. It was always on a weekday and always through the back door of the sanctuary. Here, Ria would attend confession and the priest would come out and pray for Beth with his hand on her head.

Nurse Adkins was not Catholic, but she appreciated the reverence Ria had to her religion. Once the priest approached Nurse Adkins, “My child, do you mind if I pray for you? It is at the request of Ria.”

Nurse Adkins nodded her head and the priest placed his hand on her head as he intoned his prayer. It was not the way that Nurse Adkins was taught to pray, but she did appreciate the well meaning.

Beth was locked within her prison. Most of the time she curled up in a corner of her mind, looking at the flames coming ever closer. She always wore a soft sweater with a turtle-neck and long sleeves, even in summer. A reminder of her scars would drive Beth further back into that corner. Occasionally, Beth would remember the wonderful days, getting her degree and being with her husband. That was a waste of time. They were all gone. Beth knew that she owed a lot to Ria and Ria’s stepbrother Kyle. Ria had lost someone also. The enemy had won. No matter what they did in the future, Beth could no longer hold the memories she once felt were so dear, for very long. Her mind might drift back to the Crashdown, but she could never focus. The Crashdown had been the center of her youth. It had been her home. Her parents had owned and lived at the small restaurant in Roswell. Something terrible yet wonderful had happened at the Crashdown. There was something, which refused to allow her to remember anything about her high school years.

Beth did remember the time she had been locked in a tiny blackened room. Beth remembered the hours Ria had spent figuratively trying to coax her out of that room. Her mind had been filled with a plethora of nurses, doctors and questions. The dark room didn’t give her a feeling of safety. It did give her a feeling of prolonging some terrible tragedy.

No matter what else, Beth never got far enough away from those flames. She did remember the strong arms, which dragged her from the conflagration. Kyle had, at one time, been very important to her. Later there had been someone else. Beth remembered little else about who it was. It was part of that high school experience that her mind did not want to visit.

Occasionally, Beth would see vivid pictures in her mind of a young man holding her. She saw visions of being in what, she guessed, was college. She and the young man were always working together. Beth tried to tell Ria about those visions, but her words would never form. The frustration of wanting to say something and not being able form the words, weighed heavy on Beth. There seemed to be some demon, which stood in front of her and would not let her back into the real world. This also added to her frustration. Beth was trapped in a glass cage and she could see out, but when she tried to speak, something stopped her. Her only existence was Ria. Beth knew that Ria had sacrificed greatly for her, but she did not know the particulars. If Ria was taken away from her, Beth was sure she would parish. As long as she knew that Ria was near, she would try to find a way out of that cage.

Many times, Ria would wish they all could be back together again. They had all depended upon each other in so many ways. It wasn’t as if she could post in a newspaper, “Would all the members of ‘I know an alien club’ please contact Roswell. It is important that we have a meeting.”

------------------

Kyle was known as “Death Shadow,” in several languages. His life had developed no direction until he joined the service. Kyle did not fit regimented service very well. It was seen by the few who possessed wisdom that Kyle was perfect as a black operations fighter. “Black Opps,” everyone of importance denied they existed. People just disappeared from time to time. It was easiest to say that their disappearance was because of some “Black Opps.” Someone had to take them out. Kyle had been interested in several eastern religions. Fighting for Allah or fighting for the nameless God of the Christians, was all the same to him. After a few non-Muslim beers, Kyle would state that he knew no fear. He had braced Satan in hell itself and he had the evidence of it. Someone would always say, “Hey, Kyle who won?”

Kyle would always look around as if he was looking for someone and say, “You see me, don’t you? See any evidence of the other fellow? He would be a dark man with the smell of sulfur and smoldering eyes. If you don’t see him here, you know who won.”

The first time Kyle went out with a small contingent of natives, there had been an attempt at betrayal. That was the problem so many operatives had. The natives were not sure whether they hated the enemy or the Americans more. Kyle returned alone, his mission completed and no sign of those who had been with him. It was weeks later when the main forces entered the area where Kyle had been working. They found three men hanging from stakes. The locals had been afraid to take the bodies down. From then on, Kyle had no problem with betrayal. It was better to face Al-Qaeda, Isis or any followers of the dark lord, than the man who fought Satan and won.

The men who did follow Kyle became very loyal. The surest way to paradise must be to fight beside the man who beat Satan. They all saw that there were demons within Kyle. Kyle was always in the forefront of any battle. He was heard to mutter insults to gods like “Kivar” and “Nicholas,” who later Kyle would explain were dark princes of Antar, not that those listening knew where Antar was. Kyle could take a head off with one swing of his blade. When he carried a rifle, every bullet was blessed. With loyal troops, Kyle always returned with the same number of bodies he left with. Dead or alive, Kyle guaranteed to bring you back to your family. It was whispered that Kyle once failed at some early battle. Maybe, it was when he faced Satan and received all his scars, but Kyle was alive. Kyle had won.

After several tours in the Near East, it was decided to return Kyle to the states. He was getting too dangerous to let loose in public. Some suggested that he simply be killed. There were more who defended Kyle. They knew the exploits he had done. Kyle had received many medals. They had all been given to bar maids or children he met along the way. Kyle was returned and, with therapy, he was released into society. All Kyle had left anymore was his step-sister, Ria Jones. Kyle’s father and her mother had died. In Kyle’s mind, they died in each other’s arms. He really didn’t know when. He imagined that it was while he was buried in the sand waiting for an operative of Al-Qaeda or some drug lord to come by.

Unlike some of the others, Kyle’s mind remained vivid on all the things, which had happened to him. Kyle was lost when Liz dumped him for Max. Was Liz his nemesis? Until he dated her, Kyle had pretty much had his way with the girls at West Roswell High. He met Liz one summer and instead of falling all over him, Liz was willing to date but not go to bed. At first, Kyle believed he had to get past her virginity. Then, she met Evans and Kyle became sure that only Evans kept them from rolling in bed every night. One night, she came to Kyle. Liz wanted to hurt Evans. Kyle couldn’t imagine why. It was the way she wanted to do it that bothered him most. Liz wanted Max Evans to catch her naked in bed with Kyle. That made no sense to him. Liz had assured Kyle this was a favor and she had no intention of consummating any sex with him. Kyle also saw Max Evans totally crushed. Again, that made no sense to Kyle at all. Why not just break it off like she had done with him? To humiliate Evans, the way she had, hurt Kyle almost as much as it did Max.

Later Max and Liz got back together, but Kyle’s social life was a dry hole. Kyle stood beside Max and Liz when they got married and he fought beside Michael when Max, Liz and Isabel were captured. That was when Kyle discovered that he truly loved Elizabeth Parker. Not in a sexual way but with the strongest feelings a man could have for a woman without sex. When Kyle ran into that flame, Satan was not all he faced. Kyle faced and defeated many demons within his own soul. It was a short step from there to the military.

-------------------

Isabel suffered from extreme guilt. Physically and mentally, she had suffered the least. The technicians, at the white room, had been saving her for later. At first, they wanted Isabel as an untouched example of an alien to compare to how Max reacted to their experiments. As they manipulated Max they would compare his body to that of Isabel. After being freed, it was Isabel who asked why wasn’t she damaged as much, when she looked at what was done to Max. The truth was that she was damaged badly. Not touching her, as they experimented upon Max and Liz left Isabel with many demons running around in her mind. Isabel was now with her husband, Jesse. While they were running from the special unit, Isabel was sure that she would lose him. After Alex had been killed by the rogue alien Tess, Isabel was determined that if given another chance at love, she would not allow it to be lost. Deep down, Isabel harbored a feeling that she didn’t deserve any happiness. After all, it was her clone donor who had betrayed the entire royal family leading to them all being murdered. Max, through Isabel, had learned from the Skins that his clone donor had likewise been murdered along with the rest. In Isabel, there was a fatal desire to suffer purgatory for her sin. Now, it was to Isabel to wonder what other sins she had committed to be the only one not purposely destroyed by the enemy. The short time she dated and pursued Jesse, Isabel she was always conscious of this feeling deep in her mind. As much as she wanted the security of marriage, she also worried whether she deserved it. It was the drive of Isabel, which pushed her on to Marriage, a final battle with Kivar and a difficult life with Jesse, who at that time, didn’t know she was an alien.

When Kyle and Michael entered the realm of the Skins, it was her prison cell that Michael found after he left Kyle. With all of her masochistic desires of self-punishment, still, Isabel was out of the building before the fire. The Skins wanted to completely destroy all evidence of their alien hunting, now that it had failed. No matter what else happened, Isabel lived. Michael had just exited carrying Max, when the explosion hit. No sign of what happened to Kyle and Liz or Maria in the get away car.

Authorities were rapidly descending upon the site. Michael, Max and Isabel fled. For a while, they carefully watched the papers for some sign of the fate of Kyle and Liz.

Isabel changed her hair to black. Jesse started calling her Isabella and Isabel started practicing an accent she had heard so many times in the southwest. To all appearances they made a perfect modern Hispanic couple. Through Michael, Isabel learned about Max. She learned of his many afflictions. Jesse gave Michael enough money to get Max counseling and other medical help. Max took a medical leave from his teaching at the university. Liz was reported to be lost in the explosion and that is when Max’s life began to deteriorate. Eventually, they gave him back a teaching job and the many scholars he and Liz had befriended all came to his aid.

Isabel was secretly keeping in touch with Michael. They all feared that it was being together which made them the most vulnerable. Their families in Roswell died off and soon there was no reason to ever have any contact with the town. They all listened and watched, but Liz, Kyle and now Maria had fallen off the map.

Isabel concentrated on being the ideal wife of an up and coming lawyer in Boston. Soon, she fit into the level of society befitting the wife of a great lawyer. The fact that her Spanish wasn’t that good didn’t cause a stir since many of the young Hispanics were far from fluent in the language. One of the questions that Max and Liz had long discussed was soon proven. Isabel had her first child. This proved they were fertile in human relationships.

Jesse had taken all the baby books that Isabel had collected and boxed them to be stored in the garage. “Izzy, there is nothing in those books that can help you. You should be writing the book. This is the first alien-hybrid human baby to ever be born. You are the explorer for the rest of them,” he stated.

For a minute Isabel just stared at Jesse. Was he being optimistic or was he dredging up some forlorn hope. “Jesse, I probably will be the only mother of an Alien-hybrid human child. Why bother to document anything?” she asked.

“Izzy, if none of the others ever show up, there still is the next generation. They deserve all the knowledge you can save for them. In fact, you should write your life story and the story you remember of the other hybrids and their companions. Your children deserve that much,” Jesse stated.

The one thing Isabel did not then know about Jesse was his attack on the FBI. Jesse had kept the name, “Philip Evans Law Firm,” intact. Going over papers dating back to Roswell, the Philip Evans Law Firm made sure that the FBI would no longer hunt for aliens not of this Earth. Land knows there were enough local aliens in the terrorist groups to keep them busy. Jesse was sure that the feds had identified Isabel and Michael, but there was no longer a reason to come after them. The Skins were something else. They had taken Max and Liz to study human – alien relations. They had taken Isabel as a control factor. Now, Michael and Isabel were both fully matured adult aliens from Antar. Taking either or both of them on, offered more danger than their value.
Last edited by ken_r on Sun May 17, 2015 3:59 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-

L-J-L 76
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Re: Aftershock CC mature ch 3 May 17, 2015

Postby L-J-L 76 » Sun May 17, 2015 11:00 am

Great Chapter Ken! Please please please please please please come back and post more really soon? I can't wait to read what will happen next for Max, Liz and friends. Hopefully someone will come up with a way for Max, Liz and others to get together. They need each other.

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