Before reading the fourth part of Parallel Lives, be sure to check out the first three parts to learn more about Max and Misha's journey!

Click here to read Parallel Lives Part I.

Click here to read Parallel Lives Part II.

Click here to read Parallel Lives Part III.

Misha awoke to find herself being tossed around, her head limply rolling on her shoulders and her wrists cuffed to a seat. Taking in her surroundings: bright, fully lit, bumpy, but small, she would guess that she was in the back of a truck. Misha's gaze swept the truck, landing on a shape that loomed in one corner. As her heart quickened, she feverishly noted that the figure had a gun positioned across his lap.

“Misha. Welcome to the land of the living.”

“Who are you?”

“Ah, yes. How rude of me to never introduce myself. Jack.”

“Jack who?” She now recognized it as the same green-haired man.

“May I remind you that I am supposed to be the one asking the questions?” Jack bit back a laugh. Misha had his same level of inquisitiveness, and was just as stubborn. He sighed, reminding himself that it might not actually be her.

Misha sighed and rattled her cuffs.

“Could you at least be nice enough to remove these restraints?”

“Misha, you know I can’t do that.” But what I would give to tell you who I am, who you are. To take you HOME.

“Misha, We have a special assignment for you. We don’t want to hurt our people who have gifts. We are relocating you to the president’s elite guard. You will offer no resistance. You will have resources at your fingertips to do whatever you want, provided you fulfill your job. Misha, I can feel you are looking for something. We can help you find it.”

“No, you can’t,” she harshly replied. “It isn’t something. It’s someone. But I don’t know if they remember me anymore. I just want to find them. And you are making me a slave, so I may never do that.”

“Misha…”A look of hurt crossed his face. “I would never do that. You are not a slave. Misha, you can have whatever you want. You just have to work with us.” Jack wondered if this really was any better than slavery. They were forcing her into a job she didn’t want, imprisoning her. How could he do this to his daughter?

“Misha...I promise we will get you out of here. You can have a normal life. I am an advocate for super people rights. Trust me for now. Please.”

Misha felt calm, but worried at the same time. Was it even possible to have a normal life, no longer in hiding, no longer being hunted to work as slaves? Did they even see it as slavery, forcing them to work jobs they never wanted? All Misha wanted was to find her dad and live a normal life, get a job in medicine. She wanted to be able to say hello to people without them cringing at the sight of her. She wanted to no longer have to hide. And while she didn’t have to hide any longer, she also knew she would never again be free.

The to sat in silence for the rest of the ride. As they came to a stop, Jack un-cuffed her.

“Whover.” He whispered in her ear. “My name is Jack Whover.”

And then he pushed her out the door.

Max nervously opened his eyes, half afraid of what he was going to see. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but knew it wasn’t going to be good, whatever it was. He looked around, seeing sunlight filtering through the trees. Something crinkled below his feet as he drew himself up. Everything seemed to tower over him…

Right. He was still a bee.

He focused on becoming a human, feeling himself change. He glanced around. He appeared to be back in the forest, and given the bloodstains on the leaves, where he had first fallen down and this whole mess started. He looked at his feet, now disfigured and in pain. He noted a small piece of paper between them. He picked it up.

Max,

I am so sorry. We didn’t know. The base is in a state or rebellion now. We will not be slaves. I don’t have much time, but good luck. F says that your feet will heal fastest if you don’t use them. Try being a snake for a while? I don’t know, I’m no good at this.

Till we meet again,

-L (Lee)

Max tried to focus, but his legs hurt, obviously fractured in several places. He slumped against a nearby tree, letting himself fall on the ground.

“Ok, Max,” he said to himself, “it's just a snake. How hard can it be?”

He imagined the snake that used to terrorize the sheep back on the farm. How it was small, green, and had a red line down its back. How it was about 20 cm long, how it could twist and turn with ease. He felt his head changing, his feet fusing, his spine growing. He could do this. He felt as if he was falling, then hit the ground. He opened his eyes. Snakes had very lousy eyes. Everything was so big though. He slowly coiled his body and uncoiled it, getting the hang of moving. The leaves rustled under his belly, tickling him. He looked back at the note. It would incriminate L and give him away is someone found it. He inched back to it, then swallowed it. Yum, paper. He grimaced as he swallowed the paper, not at all liking how it slid down his throat.

Max slithered for as long as he could, until his muscles ached from all the flexing and recoiling. He looked for a place to spend the night, locating a crevice in a rocky outcropping, and crawled in. He coiled his body as far in as he could, not wanting to be spotted. He looked out into the starry sky, wondering what life had in store for him. After all, it did seem to be out for him as of late. As stretched his body, weaving further into the rocks. There was light coming from a small point, he guessed it was the moon. He slithered towards it, wondering why it seemed so yellow. It seemed to scan him, then opened a pit below his...stomach? He didn’t exactly have feet. He landed with a plop on the ground, a glass dome above him where he could have sworn the rocks were.

A young boy seemed to emerge from the woodwork.