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.
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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?”
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“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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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“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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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“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.
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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.
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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
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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.
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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.
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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.”
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Max heard a “shout.”
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“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
