Misplaced Trilogy

by Brian Bennett

  It was a crazy story, and Trey had low hopes of fooling the men, but the mesmerized look on the stupid criminals' faces told him they were buying what he was selling.

  "There was some kind of curse on the stones, because bad stuff started happening to the guy who ended up with them. So, he split them up, and as long as they weren't together, nothing bad happened and the owners had good fortune."

  The men stared at the shiny black transmitter.

  Carl looked back to Trey. "So, how'd you end up with it?"

  Trey shook his head with fake irony. "Mine was made into an ugly necklace. Mom bought it at a yard sale for fifty cents."

  Carl was pleased. He shoved the stone into his pocket. "Throw the kid in the trunk and grab your stuff. We're gettin out-a here."

  Dale looked more confused than ever. "What about the deal? They'll be here tomorrow."

  Carl gave Trey an unapproving look. "They won't pay for an ordinary boy." He patted his pocket. "This rock is where the money is, and I think I know just the buyer."

  Dale looked at his buddy. "So, what do we need him for? He ain't worth fifty cents."

  Carl twisted an imaginary knob. "He owes me a few lessons."

  Fantasy

  TREY BOLTED UPRIGHT in bed and gazed around his own bedroom, breathing heavily with surprise. He rubbed his shoulder and felt no pain. There was no sign of a scar when he pulled back the neck of his shirt. It was all a dream: a crazy, wacked-out dream.

  He threw off the blankets and stared at his fully-clothed body and sneakered feet.

  "No," he said out loud. "I'm dreaming now."

  "Yes," a boy's voice announced.

  He looked to the teenager standing at his bed. "Nigel?"

  "No, I'm afraid not . . . dude."

  Trey examined the face of the visitor. The boy's huge blue eyes and short blonde hair looked very familiar. "Are you . . . me?"

  The boy laughed heartily. "No . . . that's a good one though." He held out his hand. "I'm Gunther."

  Trey stared at the outstretched hand, curious if he would actually be able to feel it, unwilling to find out. "What do you want?"

  "I've come to rescue you."

  At that moment, the world shook and everything went black.

  Trey woke with his painful body still curled in the dark trunk of a car. The wheels and engine hummed below him to the same monotonous groan it had before he dozed off.

  "Livy?"

  When she didn't answer, he signaled for her by kicking the seat-back with his bound feet.

  Moments later, her illuminated face appeared ahead of his.

  "What is it?" she said, hinting of annoyance.

  "Sorry to interrupt," he said, matching her tone.

  "I'm sorry." She softened her voice. "There's a changeover coming up and I don't know if we'll take east of west. And these guys aren't talking."

  "It's all right. Come back when you can."

  She gave him a sympathetic smile and disappeared.

  In the short time that had passed, he already doubted his dream, and when Livy finally returned, he was hesitant to mention it.

  "What way did we turn?" he asked.

  "East," she said.

  He nodded, momentarily forgetting she couldn't see him in the dark.

  "Um," he said, "I just had this crazy dream . . . Do you know someone named Gunther?"

  "No," she said, intrigued. "But it was one of those dreams, wasn't it?"

  "Yes, I think so."

  "What did he say?"

  With less excitement, Trey answered, "Not a lot. It was a short dream. The weird thing is; he said he came to rescue me."

  "This is great, right? Someone else has found us."

  "That's just it. If this Gunther guy is real, he's not doing a very good job of saving either one of us."

  "So, you don't think he's real?"

  "I don't know. It could just be a dream."

  "But he could really be one of us."

  Even tied and bound helplessly in the trunk of a car, Trey wasn't sure he was enthused about being saved by Gunther. "Well, it's probably just a dream."

  She thought for a moment. "If it's not, he must be close. I had to be right outside your house to get into your dream. I'll look and see if we're being followed."

  "Wait," Trey interrupted, "You were just outside?"

  She gave a guilty expression. "Yeah. I wasn't peeking in your windows or anything. I was just sleeping in my car."

  "So, you were asleep, too?"

  "Yeah, that's the way it works. I guess Gunther would have to be sleeping too, so he can't be following us."

  "Unless he's not alone."

  "True," she admitted. "And another thing; my dad could enter my dream from a long way away, so maybe this guy can, too. Maybe it just takes practice."

  "And what's your Dad's name?"

  "Pshh, surely you're not thinking . . . it's not Gunther. His name is Arken."

  "I'm not sure what I'm thinking. It was probably just a dream. Just be on the lookout."

  "I will," she said. "And speaking of lookout, I haven't checked in with Zach for a while. He should be nearly home."

  "And how's he doing?"

  "He's beating himself up pretty bad for letting Dale get the drop on him."

  "Oh, he'll get over that when we get out of this mess. But . . . how do you think he's handling all this strange stuff."

  She smiled. "No worse than you or I."

  * * *

  Trey lay gazing up at the ceiling of the economy hotel room where his captors had settled in for the night. He turned his head toward the small refrigerator where, well out of reach, the stone-like transmitter was 'charging' in the freezer section.

  He turned toward the other bed where Dale had crashed while Carl made countless phone calls.

  The bed was empty. He lifted his head and frantically searched the room. Both men were gone.

  He tugged at his bindings and the ropes fell loosely from his wrists.

  "Damn! It's another dream."

  "Right again," said Gunther from the chair in the corner.

  Trey sat up and swung his legs off the side of the bed. "Where's dumb and dumber?"

  "I don't know; it's your dream." Gunther looked around the hotel room. "You sure do have boring dreams."

  "I guess that explains you," Trey chided.

  Gunther smiled. "I'm afraid I'm not a dream. I'm just visiting."

  "Sorry, but I don't believe that."

  Gunther stood up. "Let's liven things up and I'll show you."

  Trey nervously watched the teen stand there doing nothing.

  Gunther shook his head. "I'm sure you can do better than a dream about a cut-rate hotel room. Dream up someplace interesting."

  Moments later, Trey's first thought produced a sandy beach with waves crashing behind him. The warm nighttime breeze blew the smell of the ocean across his face.

  "Not bad," said Gunther, standing ahead of him in the tall sea oats. He looked up and down the dark, empty shoreline. "Now how about a pretty girl here beside us?"

  Trey gave him an annoyed look.

  "Just humor me."

  Trey rolled his eyes. Next to him appeared a teenage girl that looked vaguely familiar. Her one-piece swimsuit was mostly covered by a white terrycloth cover-up.

  "That's all you've got?" laughed Gunther.

  Trey was more offended than the cute gal. His thoughts went quickly to Livy, but he wasn't about to bring her into this wacky dream.

  In place of the girl, Amy stood looking back at him as hot as ever.

  "What's going on?" she asked inquisitively.

  "Now we're talking," said Gunther.

  "Who's he?" Amy asked.

  "Ignore him," said Trey.

  Gunther patted him on the shoulder. "See how easy that is?" He nodded politely to Amy. "Now make her go away."

  Trey was confused, but happy to oblige. Poof, she was gone.

  Gunther turned to him very seriously. "Now make me go aw
ay."

  Trey smiled widely. After a few seconds, his smile faded. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't do it.

  "You can't," Gunther said. "I'm real, and I'm in control of me."

  Trey was getting uncomfortable. "What are you doing in my dream? Who are you?"

  "I told you, I've come to rescue you."

  "Well get rescuing then. The last I remember, I was tied to a freaking bed."

  "Hang tight, buddy. I'm on my way." Gunther turned to the vacant spot beside him. "In the meantime, have fun with your lady friend."

  In an instant, Gunther disappeared, leaving Trey alone on the windy beach.

  Trey tried unsuccessfully to call back Gunther’s image and gritted his teeth at the loss of control.

  He looked to his side and easily summoned Amy next to him. She smiled a familiar smile, the one that made him uncomfortable.

  The beach melted away and Trey stood at her front door in a scratchy tuxedo. Amy beamed longingly back at him in her low-cut prom gown with golden curls grazing her bare shoulders. The sparkling blue dress needed no lift to accentuate her figure, but now more than ever, his heart beat to a different vibration.

  He returned an uneasy smile. "I'm sorry Ames; not even in a dream."

  Her image faded away along with the front porch, and Trey stared once again at the ceiling of the hotel room.

  A tiny red light blinked at him from the smoke detector. Curiously, he gazed at the small light, certain it wasn't there in his earlier dream. When it blinked again, he turned to Dale's ugly face snoring away in the other bed.

  Carl was sitting in the corner, his face illuminated by the cell phone screen he was thumb-scrolling.

  Trey tugged on his bindings once again, and his hands moved freely to his sides. He rose up in bed without drawing Carl's attention.

  Something was oddly different about this dream.

  He gently lowered his feet to the floor. A wave of shock cycled through him when he saw his own body lying on the bed beneath him. The unfamiliar pale skin of his true self looked chillingly dead. With relief, he watched his other chest rise and fall with shallow breaths.

  He lifted to his projected feet unnoticed by Carl.

  Dale's sleeping face drew his curiosity. As he leaned closer, Dale's eyes became oval windows. A scene played behind them inside Dale's skull; a boy and a dog were playfully wrestling on a set of porch steps.

  Trey forced himself to look elsewhere. After moving away, he looked back, and Dale's closed eyes were normal once again.

  A phone chimed, startling Trey and Carl both.

  Dale shifted in bed, but Trey's sleeping body didn't flinch.

  "Yeah-low," answered Carl.

  Trey could hear a voice on the other side, but he couldn't make out the words. Uncomfortably, he slipped closer.

  "Yeah," said Carl, "about that. We won't be there tomorrow. The deal's off."

  The voice on the other end was louder, but still inaudible.

  "I know we had a deal, Gunther."

  At the mention of the name, Trey woke, gasping for air, tied to the bed.

  From the chair in the corner, Carl turned to Trey with an angry glare. "Hold on," he told the phone. "Let me take this outside."

  Carl walked to the hotel-room door without breaking eye contact. He stepped outside and closed the door, blocking out the smirk on his scruffy face.

  Bargain

  CARL WAS DIFFERENT when he came back inside the poorly lit hotel room. Something in the cold man's face suggested happiness. He went immediately to the small refrigerator and plucked out the transmitter.

  Trey watched through half-closed eyes as Carl wrapped his hand around the shiny black stone.

  Unfortunately, Livy wasn't there to work her magic. She hadn't been there for hours.

  Carl turned with a smile. "I know you're awake."

  Trey raised a choice finger in reply.

  "You're in luck, kid," said Carl. "You're part of the package."

  Trey opened his eyes fully.

  Carl rolled the stone in his fingertips. "King Tut my hairy butt. I don't know who you are or where this thing came from, but my new best friend does, and he doesn't want one without the other."

  Carl stretched his pant-pocket and dropped in the stone. He walked around the room to the far side of Dale's bed. With a firm foot, he shoved Dale's back side, rolling him onto his belly.

  Dale woke with a snort. "Who? What?"

  "Get your lazy ass up. I want the bed."

  Dale scooted to the edge of the mattress. "There's room for both of us."

  "I've listened to you snore for hours; now get up."

  Dale sat up and rubbed his scruffy face while Carl kicked off his shoes and settled onto the bed beside him.

  Dale's eyes met Trey's. "Why don't we tie the boy in the chair."

  "Why don't I tie you in the chair, you worthless-"

  "Fine," grumbled Dale, cutting him off.

  "We're leaving in two hours, so if you can't keep quiet long enough for me to get some sleep, then go wait in the car or get your own damn room."

  Dale looked at the clock on the nightstand. "What the hell? Where are we going at four AM?"

  "Back to Longwood. Now shut up!"

  * * *

  For what seemed an eternity, Trey lay awake in the lumpy bed. A symphony of snores echoed through the room from Carl lying on his back nearby and Dale slumped in the corner chair.

  The pain in his shoulder had subsided considerably, he hoped a sign of healing rather than infection killing the nerves.

  Occasionally, he closed his eyes and searched for the familiar vibration that accompanied Livy's projection, but it never came.

  By contorting his arms and legs, he managed to half-roll to his side. The slight change in position offered just enough relief to allow him to drift into a shallow sleep.

  Minutes later, he was at the wheel of Carl and Dale's junky old car, racing toward home. Confusion filled his mind as he kept a constant eye on the rearview mirror, wondering how he managed to escape.

  Gunther appeared at his side in the passenger seat. "You're going awfully fast, I hope you don't get a ticket."

  Trey looked at the speedometer needle spinning wildly in complete circles.

  He slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop at the side of his dream road. "I was hoping you'd show up."

  Gunther smiled. "You didn't tell me you had a transmitter."

  "You didn't tell me you were bargaining for my head."

  "I was getting to it, slowly."

  Trey looked out into the dark road ahead. "Where are you then?"

  "Somewhere between you and . . . Nigel."

  "How do you know Nigel?"

  He searched Trey's face. "I don't. When we first met, you called me Nigel. Is that where you got the transmitter?"

  Trey nodded.

  Gunther spoke delicately. "Is he your father?"

  "Hardly!" said Trey with a grin.

  "Interesting. I'd like to meet this Nigel. Do you know where I can find him?"

  "Um, excuse me, but one thing at a time here. I'd like to get away from Carl and Dale."

  Gunther looked surprised. "Ahh . . . Charlie and Delta."

  Trey furrowed his brow.

  "Code names. We haven't been using our real names."

  "So, your name's not Gunther?"

  He shook his head slowly.

  "It is?" Trey prodded.

  "Let's just leave it at Gunther for now. No point in confusing things."

  Trey grew more uneasy by the minute. "Do you even have the money they want?"

  "I have an endless supply of the stuff."

  "Fake money? And if they figure out it's just an illusion?"

  "Don't worry. They won't question a thing."

  "Don't be so sure. These guys are starting to expect crazy tricks."

  Gunther straightened in his seat. "They're dealing with an old pro now."

  Trey stared at the young face that looked his own a
ge. One thing he could be sure of: appearances mean nothing.

  The person codenamed Gunther smiled. "I'd like to find Nigel. Maybe even use his help."

  Trey frowned. "Your guess is as good as mine right now."

  From out of nowhere, Livy's soft voice sounded in his ear. "You need to wake up. We're here."

  Trey’s eyes flew open at the announcement of her arrival. He raised his head and scanned the small hotel room. Carl and Dale hadn't budged from their loud, strained slumbers.

  Nigel materialized quietly near the bolted hotel door, and the young boy version of Livy pointed outside and smiled. As quickly as he arrived, he was gone again.

  Moments later, someone pounded hard from the other side.

  Carl and Dale shot straight awake and scanned the room with wide, confused eyes. They both snarled suspiciously at Trey.

  "It wasn't me," he said.

  Another hard series of knocks threatened the door.

  Dale peered through a small opening between the floral-print drapes. "Oh shit!"

  A man's voice pierced the sealed door. "Carl Davis and Dale Stephens, this is the Oak Valley police. We have a warrant for your arrest."

  Dale slid open the top drawer beneath the TV and pulled out his shiny pistol.

  "Put that away, you fool," cried Carl in a harsh whisper, "Are you trying to get us killed?"

  Dale replaced the gun and slid the drawer closed.

  Carl rolled quickly out of bed and started untying Trey's wrists. "Get his feet, quick."

  The door pounded again.

  "Yeah, yeah, I heard ya," bellowed Carl.

  When they had Trey untied, Carl shoved the ropes under the bed and went to the door. A flood of flashing red and blue light poured into the room when it eased opened.

  In a whirlwind of activity, Carl and Dale were grabbed and roughly hauled outside.

  Scores of police officers rushed the small hotel room, checking every nook for accomplices. Trey raised his hands in surrender.

  "You alright, kid?" a female officer asked, lowering her pistol.

  Trey nodded rapidly. "I'm fine."

  She moved next to his bed. "Are you hurt? Do you need medical attention?"

  "No, I'm fine," he lied. The blood stain on his shirt vanished as he projected a clean one in its place.