Kevin Ryan - Nightscape

"I'm sorry, Iz, I don't think we can afford to stay past tonight," Max said.

"Why not? You're not actually afraid of ghosts, are you Max?" Before he could respond, she continued. "And if the Special Unit knows where we are, nothing we try to do now matters, anyway."

"I really think we lost them, or they would have caught up with us by now. But we have to put as much distance as we can between ourselves and the last place they tracked us to," Max said.

"And whoever has been in here to clean up and stock the place with food has to come back sooner or later. Better if we're gone when they do," Liz said.

Isabel looked around the room. "Is that how you all feel?" she asked.

The others nodded.

"I'm sorry, Isabel," Kyle said.

She stood up quickly. "I'm going to bed," she said. Then she rubbed her arms and said, "It's freezing in here."

She was right, Liz realized. They were sitting in front of the warm fire, and it was still chilly.

"That would be the ghosts," Maria said.

Everyone shot her the same questioning look at the same time.

"What? Don't you know anything? Ghosts draw on thermal energy when they act on the physical world. You know, chasing girls over balconies, that sort of thing," Maria said.

"Really?" Liz found herself saying.

Maria nodded. "My mom and I used to watch that show, Haunted Places," Maria said.

"Sounds like a crock to me," Michael said.

"I wouldn't expect…," Maria began.

A loud crash suddenly sounded from the back of the house, startling all of them. It was such a shock that even Maria was too surprised to scream. The next thing they heard was a loud thumping noise.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

"Well, we can't stand here forever staring at one another. I'm going to check that out. Anyone coming with me?" Isabel said.

Isabel followed the sound toward the back of the house, the others just a few steps behind her. The thumping

continued and got louder the closer they got to the kitchen. When she was only a few feet from the kitchen, Max stopped and said, "Hold on."

Isabel didn't hesitate, then she felt Max's hand on her arm.

"Let's at least check it out together," Max said.

"Okay," Isabel said.

Max and Michael stepped forward to either side of her, and the three of them entered the large kitchen. Once again, Isabel couldn't help thinking it was… comfortable.

The loud noise felt like an intruder in the house and was much louder in the kitchen.

"There," Michael said, pointing to a door on the side wall. Isabel had thought before that it was another pantry and hadn't bothered to investigate it. Now they approached it carefully, and peered inside.

It was a hospital room. No, not a hospital room, more like an infirmary. The walls were white, though they had yellowed with age. There were five hospital beds, three on one side and two on the other.

There was I.V equipment, curtains between the beds, and trays full of old-fashioned medical equipment that Isabel did not recognize. As she took in the room, she was vaguely aware of Max and Michael closing a window. They also wrestled with a shutter or something that must have been making the noise.

The room could not have looked more out of place in the house, which for all of its dark wood, heavy drapes, and thick carpet was still a place that Isabel could imagine a family living in. Suddenly she realized something and felt a sharp stab in her stomach.

"They died here," Isabel said.

"Who died?" Liz said from beside her.

"The family, I think they all died in here," she answered. Though she had used the word "think," she meant "know." She felt it somehow, with a dread certainty that pained her. Suddenly she didn't want to be in this room anymore, and quickly stepped back into the kitchen.

"Well, mystery solved," Michael said, his voice light. Isabel couldn't understand it. Hadn't he felt anything in there? How could he have missed it?

She felt Max's hand on her shoulder. "Iz, are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm going to sleep," she said. She was looking forward to going back into the master bedroom. The feeling she had gotten there had been good… the opposite of the feeling she had gotten in the infirmary.

She started toward the front of the house.

"Wait, we'll all go," Max said, following her.

When they reached the fireplace, Isabel found herself putting more logs on the fire.

"Isabel, what are you doing?" Max asked. "We're going to sleep."

"Oh, just a habit," she said.

Max gave her a strange look. Of course, it couldn't have been a habit. They didn't have a fireplace at home. Still, to her it had felt like a natural thing to do, like something she had done before.

Silly, she thought. I must be tired.

Isabel collected her things and was about to go when Max said, "I don't think we should sleep alone."

"Right, that's how the teenagers always get it in the movies. They separate and then, WHAM," Maria said.

"First of all," Isabel said, "this is not some stupid movie. And second, we've been sharing a single motel room for how many days now? Well, extra rooms won't cost us anything tonight. I'm sleeping alone."

"I was thinking we could all pair up," Max said.

Maria sighed and shook her head.

"Kyle could bunk with you. I just think it would be safer if none of us were alone," Max said to Isabel. "Okay?" he asked, turning to Kyle.

Kyle looked uncomfortable and said, "Sure." Then noticed the look on Isabel's face and said, "Look, Max is right. I'll sleep on the floor."

"No," Isabel said firmly. "I'm sleeping alone tonight, for the first time in two weeks. I'm sorry if that bothers you Max, but this isn't something we're going to vote on."

Isabel turned and headed up the stairs.

Isabel entered the bedroom and immediately felt herself relaxing. She realized that she felt at home. It was silly, she knew. This house was nothing like her home in Roswell. Nevertheless, it did feel… comfortable.

She turned on the lights and saw something she hadn't noticed before: an oil painting in a sitting area off to the right. It was a family portrait. There was a couple in their thirties. The woman was wearing a white dress. She was beautiful, Isabel saw, with long, curly blond hair. The man was handsome and wearing a suit. They both had broad smiles on their faces.

The mother held a baby in her arms, and two more children posed in front of the parents. One of them was a blond girl of about six. Suddenly Isabel was sure that the room with the rocking horse had belonged to her. Next to the girl was a boy who was maybe a year older. They all looked happy… very happy… she realized.

That's because they were, she thought. Five happy people living in this house full oj toys and children and life.

Suddenly, Isabel had an image of the house as it had been when the family was here. Bustling with activity, with children running down the hallway, household staff in the kitchen and tending the grounds. She saw extravagant birthday parties for the children, and smiled. The images should have been alien to her. Her own father was a lawyer and they lived comfortably, but they were nowhere near as wealthy as the former occupants of this house. Yet the house and the images seemed familiar to her.

Happy children and beaming parents.

Maybe that was it. She knew she and Max had been lucky to have been found and raised by their parents. Their childhoods had been normal and happy… almost surprisingly so, considering the secret that they carried.

These five people had been happy in a way she understood… in a way that had little to do with money, she realized.

Five.

Then Isabel felt a chill as she remembered the five beds in the infirmary downstairs, and she saw the horrible truth: They must have gotten sick, she realized. Isabel felt her face go flush and her throat begin to constrict.