Misplaced Trilogy

by Brian Bennett

Trey flared his nostrils and let out an angry breath.

  Relenting, he shimmied backward and lowering cautiously into his chair.

  Gunther dug deep into his pocket and whipped out the matching transmitter. With one in each hand, he held up the stones between pinched fingers. "Now that we're all together, let's find this girl's daddy."

  He transferred both shiny stones onto the palm of one hand, and with a crooked smile, he looked at each of his captives spread throughout the dimly lit living room.

  "I'll be back shortly," he said, closing his fist around both transmitters at once.

  His entire body froze instantly, leaving the same smug smile plastered on his face. Like a three-dimensional photograph, he stood freakishly still, completely motionless.

  Mr. Collins looked to Trey. "What's he doing?"

  "I . . . I don't know." Trey turned to Livy. "Both transmitters? Did you know you could do that?"

  She shook her head, clueless.

  After several long seconds, Gunther's hand reopened. A wave of motion flittered through him, bringing the mannequin to life.

  His smile gave way to a serious look. "Well," he said, raising his eyebrows. "I don't think he was expecting me."

  He turned to the large front windows. After a brief pause, he moved forward and placed both transmitters side-by-side on the wooden lamp stand. Backing away, he twisted his head, surveying the air in the room.

  Livy suddenly twitched in her chair. An instant later, Trey sensed the vibration of another presence in their midst. Gunther's lips drew to the side in a half-cocked smile.

  The three looked toward a spot near the center of the room. A man's figure popped into view.

  Mr. and Mrs. Collins jerked in their seats, and an uncontrolled squeal slipped out of Trey's mother.

  Unfazed, Trey studied the newcomer. The fair-skinned man wore pure-white, silky robes, and his long blonde hair fell perfectly straight, just grazing the top of his wide shoulders. The visitor's thin lips curled to a smile when his huge, blue eyes spotted Livy.

  "Dad," she said in a breathy voice.

  Livy's father nodded cordially. "Nigel."

  He turned to Trey and parted his lips to speak, but he closed them again without words. He looked to Trey's parents and sighed. "I'm sorry. This must be difficult for everyone."

  "What's going on?" Livy burst out.

  "I'm not sure." The tall man in white spun toward Gunther. "I'm waiting for an explanation myself."

  Gunther stepped toward him, shedding Mr. Jones and the corduroy sport jacket. A blue-eyed stranger, missing most of his short white hair, stood in his place. A skin-tight t-shirt tucked in at his narrow waistline showed a highly fit physique for the seemingly elderly man.

  "I should have known it was you behind this, Arken."

  The long-haired man didn't respond.

  Gunther gazed at Livy and back to Arken. "Are you going to tell her, or shall I?"

  "Be my guest," said Arken, making a smooth sweeping hand gesture. "If you think you know so much."

  Gunther huffed and added a smirk. "It's like this." He stepped closer to Livy. "You see . . ."

  He hesitated. His head turned to Trey. "You two . . ."

  "Not so easy, is it?" Arken asked.

  "Let me back up." Gunther relaxed his posture and stood in thoughtful contemplation. "Let me show you my brother," he finally said.

  In an instant, a thin alien figure appeared in Gunther's place, matching every drawing of a purported alien encounter Trey had ever seen. In Gunther's true-to-life projection there was nothing cartoonish about the grotesque creature with its pasty grey skin and bulb-shaped head. Its large glassy black eyes seemed to look in all directions at once, but more than anything they stared deep into Trey's soul.

  Gunther's narrow lipless mouth moved slightly as he spoke. "Of course, I'm only showing you one of my many brothers."

  He raised his thin boney arm and stared with disgust at his pale spidery fingers. He gazed down at his naked, featureless body. "I have just as many sisters. You wouldn't notice the difference. I certainly can't."

  "Would you like to see my mother?"

  Trey's heart skipped a beat, wondering what horrific image Gunther might project next.

  Nobody in the room answered.

  A beautiful brunette in her early twenties appeared moments later wearing a colorful summer dress. She smiled at everyone in the room, and they couldn't help but return the sentiment.

  In another instant, she was replaced by a chubby dark-haired woman in a navy-blue business suit. After a short delay, Gunther's appearance changed in rapid succession to women of all shapes and sizes. The speed at which they changed increased steadily until soon he was a blur of ever-changing faces.

  Without warning, the demonstration stopped, and the balding, blue-eyed Gunther looked at the floor. "You see, my brothers and I have human mothers, and any woman you pass on the street could be my mother . . . or my brothers' mother." He pointed to Arken. "Or his mother. We never know them. None of us do."

  He stepped toward Arken and stood at his side. "But we all have the same father. I'd show him to you, but I can't. I've never seen him. He hasn't lived for hundreds of years. All that remains is his genetic imprint, sequenced and stored for the next generation of our siblings."

  Trey's stomach lurched, threatening to revolt at the thought of descending from some unimaginable creature. A bitter taste filled the back of his throat.

  Livy's eyes studied Arken, begging him to correct Gunther's claims.

  Gunther's arms jutted out, pointing fingers at Trey and Livy independently. "But you two . . . you're different."

  Misplaced

  TREY LOCKED EYES with Livy across the tension-filled living room. He fought to reconcile whether being paired as "different" was a good thing or not.

  "You see," Gunther explained, "for hundreds of years, our race has depended on humans to provide us with our next generation. By combining one completely human donor egg with a male seed infused with the genetic makeup of our father, we ended up with scores of my black-eyed brothers and sister. Unfortunately, those hybrid beings, as wonderful as they are, can't reproduce."

  He paused and stared briefly at Arken. "But in the ongoing effort to steer the evolution of our kind, someone came up with the brilliant idea to infuse portions of both a human female egg and a human male seed with Father's dominant markings."

  He floated his hand on his brother's projected shoulder. "Hence, Arken and I were born, along with hundreds of siblings just like us."

  Arken slid out from under Gunther's hand. "We aren't brothers. We have no brothers."

  Arken turned to Trey and picked up where Gunther left off. "When our generation was old enough, it was blatantly clear that our reproductive organs were fully developed, unlike our predecessors.

  "Samples of our . . . you know . . . were collected from our women and men. To everyone's amazement, of the hundreds of specimens collected and combined in the lab, nearly all of them resulted in viable fertilized eggs. It was exciting news, our generation was different; we were capable of reproducing on our own without the need for a human donor egg."

  Trey swallowed hard, nervous about where this was going.

  Arken's eyes fell to the floor. "This created quite a stir. There was extreme jealousy among our so-called brothers who couldn't reproduce. Outnumbered by millions, we were branded 'too human' and looked down upon as freaks. The batch of embryos was ordered to be destroyed."

  Both men got quiet. Their huge blue eyes dimmed through a long, uncomfortable silence.

  Finally, Arken sighed deeply and continued. "They didn't stop there. In order to insure that no procreation was possible outside of the lab either, all of the females from our generation were rounded up and taken away."

  Livy scooted forward. "Taken away? Where? What does that mean?"

  "I don't know," said Arken.

  Gunther stood rigid. "Yes, he does know. We all know. He just won't accept it."r />
  Arken glared back at him. "And I never will."

  "We all lost someone we loved," said Gunther. "Not just you."

  Arken nodded. "Indeed." He turned to Livy. "I loved your mother very much. We worked closely together in the lab." He paused in obvious distress. "Shortly after she was taken away, she came to me in a dream with one final message. One cartridge containing twelve fertilized eggs had been misplaced during the destruction process. She was the mother of one egg and I was the father of another. You see, regrettably, we hadn't been paired in the selection process, because our genetic profiles weren't an ideal match. Either way, it was her greatest desire that both our children survive. So without the knowledge of our jealous brothers . . ." He glanced toward the semi-alien at his side. "And without Gunther’s knowledge, the embryos were placed inside twelve unsuspecting mothers scattered across the earth."

  Livy's shoulder's drooped slightly. "You mean, you're not my real father?"

  He frowned. "No. Not biologically. But your mother and I were bonded in our culture's equivalent of marriage."

  Trey took his eyes off Livy to gaze at his own mother. Visibly shaking and pale, the distraught woman leaned against her rope-bound husband for support.

  Trey's father grew angry and stern. "You had no right! You invaded my wife's womb for your own gain."

  She pulled away from him. "Stop it, T.J." she scolded. Her face flooded with tears as she turned to her son. "He's not thinking, Trey." Her eyes begged forgiveness on her husband's behalf.

  She looked earnestly up to Arken. "Thank you, for bring him to us."

  Gunther stomped toward the lamp stand. "I'm done with this," he said, pushing apart the stone transmitters and cutting off Arken's projection.

  He stood there, staring down at the black transmitters on the table before him. Quietly, everyone watched him, waiting for his next move.

  Trey's mother spoke first. "Untie us, please."

  Without turning, Gunther said softly, "I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

  "Can't . . . or won't."

  "Does it matter?"

  After a long silence, Gunther turned. "Everything is in motion. I couldn't stop it if I wanted to."

  "What are you talking about?" asked Trey.

  "They're already on their way. They know about you two now. I’ve spent my entire life covering up their little slip ups, and now I’m going to clean up the mistake Arken has made."

  "Mistake? Is that all you think we are?"

  Gunther shook his head. "No. But unfortunately, this is what I do."

  * * *

  Trey sat in silence, watching his parents discreetly struggle to loosen their bindings. Gunther had moved off to the kitchen, where he casually watched over them with crossed feet propped on the table.

  Trey's mind wandered to ideas of what might happen if one of them did manage to break free. A sudden motion in the corner of the room broke his thoughts.

  Arken stood watching him intently. When Trey focused on the man's white hair and long robes, the living room faded away, leaving only Arken smiling at him with a look of surprise.

  "You can see me?" Arken asked. Though his lips moved, the words entered Trey's mind without traveling through the foggy mist.

  "Yes," Trey softly replied.

  "I was right."

  "Right about what? Am I asleep? Is this all a dream?"

  Arken appeared puzzled over the flurry of questions. Settling on words, he answered, "You're awake. Think of this as a day-dream."

  "So, you're not really there? I'm imagining this?"

  "No, Trey. It's not your imagination. I'm as real as any other projection you've seen."

  "I-I don't understand."

  Arken moved closer. "The transmitters, they simply aid the capability born into every one of our kind. But for some of us, this gift is much stronger. When I saw your face and how much you resemble me when I was your age, I hoped you shared my talents. The fact that you can see me, confirms my hopes."

  Trey blinked away the vision. The living room and his family came into focus in front of him. Arken was nowhere to be seen.

  He turned to face Gunther. The aged man looked up suspiciously then returned to studying his smartphone.

  Trey settled back into his seat and tried to recall Arken's image. Unsure how to go about it, he closed his eyes and pictured Arken standing in front of him. After repeated failures to call up the life-like vision, he opened his eyes in defeat.

  Livy stared at him with a look of concern. He brushed his odd behavior away with a shrug.

  When later his mind began to wander once again, Arken appeared, as before, waiting in silence.

  The room faded away as Arken spoke. "You lost me for a minute, you need to remain focused."

  Trey nodded, though he wasn't sure how to comply.

  "Listen to me, Trey," Arken said. "I can't stress enough how important it is that you escape. What our people have planned for you will not be pleasant, but I can't even speak of what will come of Nigel."

  "I've figured that much out myself, and believe me, we are trying."

  Arken nodded. "I understand. But . . . is there anyone, anyone at all, you can trust to help you?"

  Trey thought for a moment. "Well, sure, I suppose. But I don't know how they possibly could."

  "Listen, Trey, I'm talking to you from millions of miles away while being perfectly awake. I'm nearly certain you can tap into your ability to do the same."

  Trey chuckled lightly. "I don't think so."

  Arken grew stern. "You must try. Even if I managed to find your rescuers, I'm not sure I could convince them in time. It needs to be you."

  Trey puffed air from his cheeks. "I can try. Just tell me what to do."

  Arken smiled. "I'll tell you where to start. The rest is up to you, Son."

  Trey processed the words, unsure if Arken spoke of him as son in general terms. At this moment, it made little difference. He simply nodded.

  "Okay, Trey, it's as easy as opening your projected eyes. If you can do that, everything else will come naturally."

  "Let me guess, that's not as simple as it sounds."

  "Actually, it is, especially if you trust yourself."

  Trey gave him a sheepish stare. "So, how do I open my projected eyes?"

  "After you are fully aware of your surroundings, you must close your eyes and feel your projection vibrating around you." Arken closed his eyes. "You need only to distinguish your true self from your vibrating projection."

  Arken's eyes slowly opened. "Once you know the difference, simply open your projected eyes."

  Trey let Arken's projection fade from his thoughts, and the quiet living room took shape through the soft lamplight. Livy stared back at him with a deeply furrowed brow.

  "What are you doing?" her silent lips motioned.

  "I'll explain later," he answered without sound.

  "What?"

  Trey shook his head in frustration.

  A solution came suddenly to mind. In short phrases, he projected thick decal letters across his t-shirt.

  I'll explain later . . .

  I'm going for help.

  Her eyes lit up. "How?"

  I'll explain later!

  Her mouth gaped open with fascination. She asked no more questions.

  Trey closed his eyes and concentrated on the vibration of his projected image. Much like knowing his remote hand when clutching a transmitter, he began to recognize the difference between his projected eyes and his real ones.

  Slowly, he opened a set of them.

  Messenger

  TREY GAZED AROUND the crystal-clear living room, certain his attempt had failed to project him outside of his bindings. Livy looked back at him with a mesmerized stare. His parents huddled tightly together, swaying in unison with somber, blank faces.

  He pulled his unbound arms free and waved his fingers in front of his face. Across the room, Livy's watchful expression was unchanged.

  He hopped to his feet and tur
ned to face his real body bound in the chair. He jumped up and down in excitement until thoughts of Gunther calmed his celebration. His head jerked in the direction of the kitchen table. Gunther sat undisturbed.

  "Kiss my projected ass!" Trey shouted at the balding man.

  Arken's voice drifted over Trey's shoulder. "It's a shame he can't hear you."

  Trey spun around, embarrassed to see Arken standing behind him.

  "Now go," said Arken.

  "How - How far can I go?"

  "As far as you need."

  "Are you coming with me?"

  Arken shook his head. "No. I'd only slow you down. You'd have to tell me exactly where to go. But if you need me, I'll be right here."

  Trey nodded and dashed away, running effortlessly through the front door and across the moonlit yard.

  Arken appeared in the shadows ahead, facing him at the end of the gravel driveway. Trey slowed to a jog and stopped in front of the man in white.

  "You don't have to run there," Arken said. "That'll take all night. If you know where to go, there are no barriers holding you back."

  Trey nodded, though he wasn't certain he understood.

  "Just follow your intentions."

  Trey nodded again. He turned north-east toward Longwood and oriented himself through the vast forest and farmland that stood in his way.

  "Ah-ah, Trey. Don't think about the direction. Where do you want to go? . . . Intention."

  Moments later, Trey was standing alone outside Zach's large brick home in the center of the immaculately manicured lawn. The house was completely dark except the window to Zach's upstairs bedroom.

  An instant later, Trey was inside his best friend's room. As he feared, Zach was awake, watching TV in bed.

  "Zach!" he cried. "Can you hear me?" He waved a hand in front of Zach's face. "Come on! Come on!"

  Trey folded his arms. "Dammit."

  His thoughts turned to his next option. "Amy! Oh my God! Amy!"

  His heart raced uncontrollably as he pictured Gunther and the stooges invading Amy's small house to nab Livy. The distant hammering in his real chest threatened to drag him back to his body.

  Calm down, Trey.

  The pounding grew stronger than the vibrations of his projection, and he fought to ignore the heavy beats. "I'm sure Amy's fine," he told himself. "They drug Livy away while the others slept."