Melinda Metz - The Salvation

The music screamed to a halt, then started up again, softer, slower. Isabel opened her eyes, her gaze going unhesitatingly to Trevor's. The skin between his fingers started pumping out the sweat.

"You still think my human form is, uh, yummy enough that any girl would want to dance with me?" he asked her, remembering the conversation they'd had at the UFO museum party.

"Definitely," she answered. UFOnics' colored lights made it difficult to see her aura, but Trevor thought the dancing had helped a little.

"Including you?" Trevor kept his gaze locked on hers.

Isabel answered by using the waistband of his pants to pull him toward her, then slipping her arms around his neck. He slid his hands around her waist, and they swayed back and forth, barely moving, hardly dancing.

But being this close to Isabel was all the distraction he needed. Right now every thought was of her, every nerve in his being responding to her. When she pressed her cheek against his shoulder, sliding her body even closer, he could feel her heart beating, beating fast.

The realization that Isabel could be feeling the same way about him that he was feeling about her-at least right this second, in this moment away from the rest of the universe, away from time, away from thought-left him almost breathless.

Liz sat under an enormous weeping willow tree, its long, drooping branches creating a private room for her. A room of green. A tiny tea set was arranged in front of her, the itty-bitty roses on the cups and saucers drawn with amazing detail. She took a sip from the nearest cup and tasted a drop of honey on her tongue. There was one other cup on the other side of the little teapot. But who was it for? She was all alone here.

She peeked past the green curtain-wall. Empty desert stretched out as far as she could see. Nobody out there anywhere.

"Would you like another cup, Liz, dear?" she asked herself. "Why, yes, I would. Thank you very much," she answered, smoothing the skirt of her cupcake dress. She picked up the pot and poured. Three raisins fell through the spout.

Liz wrinkled her brow. Raisins didn't belong in a teapot. And the dress with the cupcakes on it was from when she was in kindergarten. There's no way it would fit her now, but it did. And-and wait, something else was wrong-willow trees didn't belong in the desert.

I'm dreaming, Liz realized. Another one of those dreams where I know I'm dreaming.

Was Max in this dream, too? She scrambled to her feet and used both hands to part the branches of the willow tree wide. She scanned the desert. Was anything out there that could be Max in disguise?

All she saw was earth and sky. She seemed to be the only living creature. The willow tree was the only vegetation.

Liz returned to her place in front of the tea set, leaning back on the tree trunk. It felt soft and smooth beneath her head. Maybe I can call Max to me, she thought. It couldn't hurt to try, anyway.

She stared up at the canopy of jade green leaves over her head. "Max," she whispered. "Can you feel me here? Can you come to me? Please try." A branch of the willow tree brushed against her face. She flicked it away.

"I have two teacups and everything," she added. The branch brushed her cheek again, its leaves warm as flesh against her skin. Liz was struck by the memory of Max's fingers running down her face in exactly the same way.

"It's you!" she cried. "Willow trees don't have leaves this dark. Jade green-that's the color of your aura. It's you, Max!" The branch gently slid over her hair. Max loved to touch Liz's hair. It really was him.

"Okay, communication. That's what we need first," Liz muttered. She tried to send a loud, clear thought message to Max. Are you all right? Is there anything you can tell us about the consciousness that will help us get you free?

She strained for any murmur of a reply in her mind, but none came. "So no tree-to-human telepathy in this dream," she said.

But it was a dream. Yeah, she didn't have the powers that Max and the others did. But inside her own dream, couldn't she sort of create her own reality? Especially since she was aware that she was dreaming and everything?

"Maybe I could get some tree-to-tree telepathy going." Liz concentrated on her feet, willing them to lengthen into roots that stretched into the ground.

The earth lurched beneath her. "It's working!" she cried.

Then with a groaning, crunching sound, the ground cracked open. Liz stumbled backward, barely managing to escape falling into the ravine that had formed-and swallowed the willow tree.

"No!" Liz shouted, staring down at the tree. Before she could take a step, the earth rumbled again, and the ravine began to close itself. In seconds the desert floor was smooth and flat again. As if the tree had never existed.

As if Max had never been there.

"Knock, knock," Maria's mother called, opening the bedroom door without waiting for an answer-one of her many annoying habits.

Maria hit the pause button on the remote and looked over at her mom. She was wearing Maria's black sweater that had shrunk in the wash. That sweater seemed to have moved permanently into her mom's closet. Majorly annoying.

"I might be a little later than usual tonight," Maria's mother announced. She shifted her weight slightly from foot to foot.

"Okay," Maria answered. She glanced at the still frame of the movie frozen on the TV screen-Karen Allen in midfaint. But did her mother take the hint that Maria wanted to get back to watching it? No.

"I'm going out with Daniel again," her mother said.

Maria sat up. "This is what? Like five times?" she asked, giving her mom her full attention.

"Uh-huh. I thought that-I'd heard that-the third date was significant, but…"

Don't go there, oh, please don't go there, Maria silently begged. She couldn't deal with talking about her mother's sex life.

"Or maybe that's just something I read in a magazine," her mom added quickly, seeming to realize that mentioning her surprise at not getting any on date three was way, way inappropriate.

"Maybe," Maria answered, her voice coming out like some weird land of donkey bray.

"You know that perfume you mixed for me? I've been wearing it a lot lately-Daniel really likes it. And I just realized I ran out, and I really wanted to wear it tonight." Maria's mom looked at her hopefully. "He's picking me up in a few minutes."

"There isn't enough time to make a new batch," Maria answered. There really wasn't time, and even if there was, Maria wasn't sure how she felt about helping her mom snag a guy. She'd given up any fantasy of her parents getting back together, but still.

"Oh, okay. Never mind." Maria's mom nervously touched her hair, which Maria noticed was styled in a slightly different way. Tonight's really important to her, she realized.

"Wait," Maria said as her mother turned to leave. "I can get you something close. Sit," she instructed, patting the spot on the bed next to her. Her mother sat with a relieved smile.

Maria plucked two vials of essential oil off her bedside table. She took one of her mothers hands and flipped it palm up, then placed a few drops from each vial on her wrist and rubbed them in. A subcutaneous tremor ran through her mother's arm. Mom's nervous, Maria noticed. She rubbed a little harder, hoping to ease the tension from the muscles, but the quiver kept right on quivering.

"Thanks," Maria's mom said as Maria started working on the other wrist. "I just want to be… perfect." She touched her hair again self-consciously, then gave her midriff-bared by Maria's sweater-a hard poke. "Not that that's even possible."

I know the symptoms, Maria thought. Not only does Mom really, really like this guy, she's not sure how he feels about her. And she's worried that there is some significance, some he-doesn't-really-really-like-me-back significance, to five dates with no-