The Intruder

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"Please, Max," a voice begged. "You can't die on me now… not after you finally agreed to be more than 'just friends.'"

The voice sounded so far away. Like it was coming from the end of a long tunnel. Max Evans turned in a slow circle. He didn't see anyone. He didn't see anything, anything but the light. The pure white light.

"The communication crystals are in your hand," the voice told him. "You have to connect to the collective consciousness, Max. Do it now! You don't have much time!"

The collective consciousness. That sounded familiar. Sort of. The voice sounded familiar, too. But he couldn't remember from where.

Max sat down, then stretched out on his back. The light was so awesome. It actually had patterns in it, like white snowflakes against white sheets or something. He just wanted to lie there and watch the bright snowflakes coming down.

New voices joined the first one. He felt as if he'd heard them before, too, a long time ago. All the voices joined together, pleading with him to make the connection. Join the consciousness. Live.

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