Before long, they were flying out Route 868. Nobody said a word.
When they arrived at the Taylor farm, Trey cut his own path through the field toward the barn rather than pull in the driveway. The truck coasted to a stop just outside of eyeshot from Mrs. Taylor's windows.
"Here we are," Trey said and added a deep breath.
Zach gently bounced his head against the back window. "If Widow Taylor shoots me, I'm gonna haunt your ass."
Amy elbowed him hard in the ribs, and he winced in overdramatized pain.
Trey lightly unlatched his door and eased out of the truck. Zach mirrored his motion on the other side. Amy seemed torn and eventually followed out behind Zach.
In single file, Trey led the way around the back side of the old barn. He pulled the sliding door open just enough to fit a person and stepped into the darkness. Zach and Amy followed closely behind him.
Trey paused while his eyes slowly adjusted to the inside of the empty barn. The smell of hay and animal was still strong, even though the barn hadn't been used for years.
Nigel stepped out of a stall wearing a dark outfit with his hood removed.
"Thanks for coming," the young boy said.
Trey, Zach, and Amy walked to Nigel and met him face-to-face in the center of the barn.
"This is some sort of gag," Zach said. "What are you up to?"
Nigel looked to Trey like a scolded pup.
"Show him," Trey said with a wide grin.
Nigel appeared shy and stared without moving.
"They need to see," Trey reassured.
Nigel turned away and raised the hood over his short, dark hair.
"The brunette first," Trey said. His sideshow tone struck him with a pang of guilt, softening his enthusiasm. "Please."
Nigel turned to face his curious onlookers. Slowly, he removed the hood.
Amy and Zach gasped at the sight of the pretty, long-haired girl standing in front of them.
Zach was speechless and stood gawking with a slack jaw.
A flattered smile slipped across the girls lips. Zach flustered, but it was too dark to know if he actually blushed.
"How can we help?" Amy offered, free of apprehension.
The girl's face went serious. "I need help finding out where I'm from."
Trey spoke next. "Why us? Why did you come to me?"
She locked her blue eyes on him. In a very matter-of-fact tone, she said, "Because you're like me."
Trey wrinkled his forehead at the pretty girl version of Nigel standing in front of him. "What do you mean, I'm like you?"
The girl stared deep into his soul. For a micro-flash, she was the alien girl from his dream. The brief showing went unnoticed by Zach and Amy who were now gaping at him.
He started to protest, but buried within him, he knew. It was something he always knew.
Zach shook his head in disbelief. "What's she talking about?"
Trey stepped backward, fighting the urge to run.
"I'm sorry," the girl said. "I've been where you are right now."
Her eyes were comforting. Trey wanted to curl up in them and hide from the world.
"She's lying, Trey. It's some kind of trick," insisted Zach.
But it wasn't a trick.
Trey felt the intense pulling sensation he had carried within him his entire life. Zach's words added to its tension like a string being wound tighter and tighter.
"You're not some kind of freak," said Zach.
Another wind was too much; the string snapped. An overwhelming sense of relief flowed throughout Trey's body as he let go of the artificial image he had projected around him as long as he could remember.
Amy and Zach gasped, taking several steps backward.
"It's me," Trey said softly. "The same me."
Zach looked away, making no attempts to recognize his friend.
Amy tilted her head, searching his face. Her eyes suddenly brightened.
As effortlessly as commanding a finger to move, Trey put on his human face. The tension returned, weightier, now that the sensation's purpose was understood.
Trey turned to the girl. She had returned to Nigel's young boy appearance.
"Who are we?" Trey asked.
She frowned. "I don't actually know. That's what I'm trying to figure out."
Before she could say more, a car pulled in the driveway outside, and they all turned simultaneously toward the sound.
Nigel ran to the wall and peered through a gap in the barn siding. The others quickly followed.
Trey recognized the suited men immediately as they marched toward the farm house. Without pausing to knock, one of them kicked open the front door.
"Mrs. Taylor!" Trey shouted, digging for his cell phone.
"She's not home," said Nigel. "They're looking for me."
"Let's get out of here then."
Nigel spun around and looked at the old tractor. "There isn't time."
"My truck," Trey said, backing away toward the rear doors.
Amy chimed in, still looking through the cracks, "One of them is coming."
"Hide," Zach cried, and they all scattered.
Trey hunkered down behind an old rusty piece of farm equipment and gazed through a small opening. The front door of the barn creaked open and one of the men stepped inside.
In the corner of his view, Trey saw Amy low to the floor with her back against a wide support column. Nigel and Zach were nowhere in sight.
The man walked slowly through the barn, moving in and out of shadows as he proceeded. His hands crossed a stripe of sunlight; a brilliant flash reflected off the shiny handgun he carried.
He whirled swiftly and aimed his pistol inside an empty stall.
Amy's chest began to rise and lower rapidly as the man's steps continued closer to her location. Calm down, Trey willed in her direction, fearing her excitement would give her away.
The man inched forward. The shadow cast by the saddle hanging above Amy was all that camouflaged her from his sight. If he looked down, he couldn't miss her.
Trey prepared to pounce.
A stirring commotion erupted in the far corner of the barn, and the man spun to face it.
Mr. Emerick, the crusty old shop teacher, stepped out of the shadows holding a double-barrel shotgun pointed directly at the man's head.
"Drop it," Emerick said, bouncing the unlit cigarette that hung from his lips.
The man in the suite froze for a moment, then chuckled. "You can't fool me with your charlatan tricks."
"Yeah? Try me," scoffed Emerick.
The stranger raised his pistol at the old shop teacher.
BLAM! Emerick's shotgun blast rocked the barn.
The suited guy flinched uncontrollably, then returned his aim toward the puff of smoke in the corner. After the cloud dissipated, Emerick was gone.
The man darted toward the corner. Loud rustling followed, outside of Trey's sight. Trey rose up but was still unable to see either of them.
A vicious dog growled and barked in the tussle.
"Ow!" the man yelled. "You bit me you little shit."
The barn door burst open and the other man raced into the mix. Moments later, the rustling stopped.
One of the men rose up with Nigel in a neck hold. The other man shook his bitten hand furiously, trying to fling away the pain.
"Get that rope," said the one holding Nigel.
The other grabbed the bundle and reached for the boy's hands.
In an instant, Nigel transformed; and squid-like arms flailed in all directions. The man snapped and grabbed toward them trying to land a real arm.
"Close your eyes you idiot!" said the first.
Before long, the roughnecks had Nigel's hands and feet bound. The helpless boy sat in the straw tired and defeated.
The men dusted off their dark suits. "Who's truck is out back?"
The injured one shrugged in response, still nursing his hand.
"Look around and see if there's anyone else here."
They hadn't moved far when the search was interrupted. A rumbling muffler and thumping tires bounded toward the barn.
"It's one of his tricks!" the man shouted.
"I don't know. I don't think it works that way."
He raised his pistol and struck Nigel across the head, collapsing the boy to the floor.
The noise of the truck outside continued.
The engine shut down, and a door squeaked open.
Billy's voice rang out, loud and ticked off. "There best be a damn good reason fur makin' me chase your sorry asses out here."
No Billy, get out of here, Trey begged.
One man moved toward the front door, motioning the other to the rear. When Billy's boots stomped around the back, the man disappeared out the front.
"One night," Billy said, "Jigsaw night! Is that--"
His stomping stopped.
A clang of metal against a hard object rang through the air. A muffled thud rumbled the ground.
Moments later, the barn doors slid open further. The suited man tossed a shovel toward the corner, narrowly missing Trey.
"Get the boy," he said.
No sooner than the words left his lips, his feet flew into the air as he was jerked backward like a rag doll.
Billy had him pinned to the ground in a choke hold before either man knew what hit them.
The stupid one watched helplessly while his partner struggled for air until finally passing out completely.
He backed away slowly when Billy's raged eyes lifted and burnt into his gut. Billy rushed him like a charging bull, but before he reached the frightened man, a gunshot cracked and Billy fell face-first.
A gut wrenching scream burst from Trey as he bounded from hiding. "NOOO!!!"
The dumbfounded man swung toward him.
Crack! Another shot fired.
Trey saw the dirt floor rising toward his face. The son of a bitch shot me were his last thoughts before hitting the ground.
Manhunt
TREY WOKE TO the sound of quiet voices chattering in the distance. The strong smell of iodine twinged his nostrils.
He slowly opened his eyes to a dimly lit living room. An angry pain erupted in his left shoulder when he stirred on the sofa.
"Mom," he croaked, barely audible.
"He's awake," his mother piped up from afar.
Chairs scooted on the kitchen floor.
Soon, a small crowd was hovering around him.
His father smiled, then slipped back to a side chair, pulling Zach with him.
"How are you feeling," asked his mother, sitting down on the edge of the couch.
"Been better," Trey whispered, adding a smile.
"Can I get you some water?"
He nodded.
She started to get up and he clasped her arm. "Billy?"
She shook her head lightly. "He's not good."
Trey twisted his head, searching the room.
"He's at the hospital," she said, "Amy's with him."
"Why am I--"
She shushed him. "You changed when you were out . . . Zach brought you here."
Trey sensed his disguise had returned; the tightly strung vibration resonated through him. He looked to his friend. Zach gave him a subdued smile and a nod.
"Thanks," Trey breathed. "And Nigel?"
Zach's smile faded. "The men took him. They left you and Billy for . . . dead."
"I'll get that water," his mother said.
Trey clasped her again. He looked deep into her human eyes, looking for signs she was like him. "Are you . . . ?"
She shook her head softly. "Only you."
"You knew?"
She smiled and nodded.
Somehow predicting his next question, she added, "Not now."
He closed his heavy eyes and drifted into sleep.
* * *
When Trey woke again, the living room was bright with daylight. He shifted his shoulder and it screamed at him, but it was much better than before. He rose to a sitting position, wincing the whole way up.
A nearly empty glass of water sat on the end table. He vaguely recalled sipping from it while moving in and out of consciousness. He looked down at his bare shoulder; a large bandage was taped over it. A small spot of darkened blood had seeped through and dried in the center. A matching bandage was stuck on his back.
The house was quiet except the faint sound of a television. He struggled to his feet and staggered to the source in his father's den.
Zach was leaning back in the large leather office chair with his feet propped on the mahogany desk. He snapped his feet to the floor when he saw Trey in the doorway.
"Dude," said Zach. "Put a shirt on."
Trey ignored the request. "What day is it?"
"Saturday. What do you think?"
"Whew, I was afraid I'd been out for days." He looked down the hallway. "Where is everyone?"
Zach shut off the TV. "Out pretending to look for us."
Trey gave him a confused look.
"There's a man-hunt out for us," said Zach.
"Us?"
"Yeah, they think one of us shot Billy."
Trey reeled slightly. "Why the heck would they think that?"
Zach stood and moved toward him. "You look like you're gonna keel over. You better lie back down."
"I'm fine." Trey lied, refusing Zach's steadying hands.
"At least sit then."
Zach coaxed him back to the living room, and they settled onto the couch. Trey picked up a folded t-shirt from the arm rest and painfully tried to slip it on.
As he fought with the shirt, Zach, explained, "From what I overheard the sheriff saying on the porch, Amy told them all about the men in the suits."
Trey stopped tugging on the shirt and listened intently.
"But when they didn't believe her story, she quit talking to them altogether."
"So, are they even looking for Nigel and those men?"
Zach shook his head with disappointment. "I don't think so."
"Let's go then."
Zach chuckled. "You aren't fit to go get the mail."
Trey didn't laugh. "I'm serious."
"Okay? Pretending you aren't ready to pass out, where would we even start? We have no clue who these guys are."
"Mom said Nigel lived with his mother. If we can find her, she may know something about them."
Zach paused reluctantly. "The barn?"
"It's only a few miles up the road."
Zach took out his cell phone and studied it.
Trey noticed it wasn't even on. "What?"
"Well, your mom said to call her if you tried anything like this."
Trey rolled his eyes.
Zach stuffed his phone into his pocket. "But . . . she also said not to use my phone, in case the police are tracking it."
Trey smiled at his cooperative friend.
"Just me though," said Zach. "There's no way you can walk that far."
"Walk? Who said anything about walking?"
"Uh . . . yeah, about that. Your truck isn't here. Your Dad kind of suggested I get it out of sight . . . so I drove it out and left it at the old mill."
"That's five miles," Trey said in amazement.
"It's more like three on foot. No big deal."
Trey grinned at the regional cross-country champ. "Thanks."
"I'm not running back for it, if that's what you're thinking."
Trey shook his head. "What about Dad's truck? Did they leave together?"
Zach thought for a moment. "Yeah, I think they did."
Trey and Zach headed to the carriage house with the spare set of truck keys. As expected, the old Blazer was parked inside.
Trey barely managed to open the heavy garage doors without crying out in pain.
"You better let me drive," said Zach.
"You don't have your license."
"We're fugitives. Think it matters?"
Trey laughed and tossed him the keys. "Take the service road, it'll get us clos
e."
Before long, Trey was regretting the choice to avoid the smooth highway. Every rut and puddle in the old dirt trail sent sparks of fire from both sides of his shoulder.
When they arrived at the back side of the Taylor farm, the slow drive through the smooth grassy field was a welcome relief.
"That's close enough," Trey said.
"You sure? That's a long walk."
Trey looked toward the main road, then the farm house; both were blocked from his vision by the rolling terrain. "Maybe a little closer."
Farther up the field, they got out and walked the rest of the distance.
The grass circling the barn was matted down, and deep tire tracks were cut into the dirt from all the recent activity. Yellow caution tape meant to restrict access had blown loose and stretched across the yard.
The eerie memories of the night before haunted Trey as he slowly slid open the rear barn door and stepped inside.
When his eyes finally adjusted to the low light, two dark patches were visible where the pooled blood had soaked into the dirt. He promptly looked away.
The boys slowly turned in circles, searching for signs of Nigel's mother.
Trey called out quietly, "Misses . . . Nigel's Mom?"
Zach snickered.
When there was no response, Trey tried again. "We're friends of Nigel's, and we know some men took him. We want to help find him."
Again, no response.
"So," asked Zach, "what now?"
"We look for clues."
"Okay, Sherlock. Be my guest."
Trey set his jaw. He hated it when Zach was right. "I'll find something."
He bent down and scanned the ground. "Maybe there are shell casings."
A voice boomed from behind them. "Two of them actually."
Trey and Zach spun around to see Sheriff Smead leaning in the doorway.
Sheriff
SHERIFF SMEAD STROLLED toward Trey and Zach with his wide-brimmed hat topping off his hefty silhouette.
"Nine millimeter rounds," said the rough lawman, "both shot from the same weapon."
Trey was speechless, more terrified than when he had hid from the two men in the suits.
"Relax, boys," said the sheriff. "I know you didn't shoot Billy."
His words did little to calm Trey's nerves, and Zach's dumbfounded expression said the same.
Misplaced Trilogy Page 3
