Free The Vanished by Melinda Metz

we have to tell you it wasn’t your fault? You were tricked. We all were. I was just thinking that any Clean Slate agent would assume it was us.”
    Max nodded, but he wasn’t totally convinced. He knew he was going to feel guilty until Alex was back where he belonged. On earth.
    â€œSo . . . what do we do about the Major?” Max asked, changing the subject.
    â€œAvoid him like the plague?” Michael suggested.
    â€œThere’s still a possibility that he has nothing to do with anything,” Max said. “I need more proof than a photo Liz found in DuPris’s file cabinet. It’s not like the Astral Projector ever printed a photo that wasn’t doctored.”
    â€œGood point,” Michael said. “We’ll just keep an eye on him . . . from afar.”
    â€œAnd act cool if we run into him,” Max added.
    â€œMaybe you can act cool,” Michael said, smiling. “But you’re never going to be cool, geek.”
    â€œDork,” Max replied.
    â€œI don’t have to take this abuse,” Michael said, pushing himself out of his chair. “I’m outta here.”
    â€œSo soon?”
    â€œYeah,” Michael said. He shook his new keys with a grin. “I want to go kick back at Ray’s place, now that it’s my place. Jealous?”
    Max rolled his eyes. “Insanely,” he answered. “Later.”
    â€œPeace out,” Michael joked, climbing through the window.
    When he was gone, Max lay back in bed and decided to distract himself with some mindless TV. He started surfing channels and stopped on a cooking show, but the combinations of ingredients didn’t appeal to him. Humans just never mixed sweets and spicy foods for some reason. Like a hamburger covered in applesauce. Mmm.
    The collective consciousness agreed with him. A ripple of approving images entered the back of Max’s mind. Yes, they concurred. They loved fried meat and tangy fruit together. One of the beings gave Max a taste of a favorite dish, and he could feel the juices running down his throat. Awesome.
    Then he realized he hadn’t tried to connect to the consciousness at all.
    Was it going to be like this for the rest of his life? The idea that the collective consciousness would always be peering over his metaphoric shoulder gave Max the creeps. Will the connection keep getting stronger? Max wondered. Even when I’m not trying to connect?
    He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Maybe he should cut back on the amount of time he spent willingly making a full connection to the consciousness. Maybe that would stop or slow down the automatic linking.
    But if I do that, Max thought, then how can I keep tabs on how Alex is doing? I’ve got to keep everybody calm about Alex.
    Max closed his eyes. That’s what he should be doing right now — checking up on Alex. No matter how it affected Max, making sure Alex was safe was his number-one priority.
    With a deep breath Max opened himself up to the full force of the collective consciousness and sank into the ocean of interconnected auras. Like he was floating in a warm bath, Max felt buoyed up by the network of souls. Then he became absorbed by them, one among the multitudes.
    Alex? he sent out, along with an image of his redheaded friend laughing at one of his own jokes. How’s Alex?
    Most of the responses Max received in return were positive — friendly replies, from beings who had begun to adjust to Alex living among them.
    Then Max bumped into an aura he recognized.
    It was Alex himself. And he was terrified out of his mind.
    Max received an image from Alex of pure fear, of shadowy threatening presences, of misery and loneliness. There was no place for Alex to relax or rest. He was constantly on the run. Running for his life.
    What is it? Max sent out frantically. Alex, what’s wrong? What are you running from?
    But before Alex could reply, another being took his place — an unfriendly