Misplaced Trilogy
Page 26
Dylan shoved past Livy to snatch up Pearl beneath the baby’s outstretched arms. As he rocked his daughter with a strong but gentle grip, she giggled happily.
Zach turned to Trey and nodded, his enthusiasm obviously curbed by the weight of recent events.
Trey smiled widely from the far end of the group and tossed a small what’s up wave.
Simmons calmly stepped around the sofa and relieved Zach of his need to hold the door. As Zach moved away, the agent pushed the door closed until it latched. Trey rolled his eyes, knowing nobody in the room cared about secrets on the other side.
Trey glanced at Amy and caught her stare by surprise. Her blue-gray eyes darted away instantly, and she opened her arms to Livy for a cheery hug.
Trey worked his way closer and brushed his elbow into Zach’s side. “Good to see ya, man.”
“Yeah, it was a little hairy there.”
Amy turned from Livy and wrapped her arms around Trey before he knew what hit him. Awkwardly, he patted her back lightly, causing her to squeeze him even tighter. He gave in to a rush of feelings and pulled her against him, reminded of every desire he had forced himself from considering for so long. If he had known years ago what he knew then, things between them might have been completely different.
Trey forced himself to break away and held Amy at arm’s length. “It’s all good now,” he said, his confident tone betraying his inner doubts. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
Amy dropped her gaze, nodding in half-hearted acceptance. “Sure. Have a good life.” She twisted free and stepped alongside Zach as if to make a statement.
Trey shook his head, hurt and confused.
Simmons moved forward. “I’m sure we can work out some form of anonymous communication. It isn’t unprecedented for people to want to keep tabs on their friends and loved ones.”
Trey finally caught on. “Anonymous? So, you’re saying they won’t know our new identities?”
Simmons grimaced. “Oh, I thought that was clear. For everyone’s protection. It has to be that way.”
Trey eyed Zach. The long face suddenly made sense.
“Who?” Trey asked, barely able to get out the word.
“We’ll make sure you and Livy are reintegrated as a unit.” He turned to Dylan. “Obviously you two will be together as well, but I’m afraid that for the foreseeable future you’ll be separated from Trey and Livy.”
With Pearl clinging to his neck, Dylan pivoted to the agent. “What about Gramma?”
Simmons frowned. “Anonymous communication.”
Trey wasn’t shocked by Dylan’s easy acceptance of the matter, but turmoil writhed on his own insides. “Dad and Mom? What about them?”
Simmons took in a deep breath. “We’ll assess that once we locate them.”
Resurrection
HITS FROM THE nineties took the edge off the dismal silence inside Agent McDonnel’s black SUV as the streets of Longwood passed Trey’s window.
Zach and Amy sat just behind him with Livy wedged between them in the wide bench seat. He hadn’t looked back for hours, and now, with his home town paraded in front of him, he wanted to close his eyes, but something within kept them glued to each business and every pedestrian he knew by name.
The stone steps of the county sheriff’s building came into view as the vehicle began to slow for a stop. Trey found it hard to believe it had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d raced down the stairs fleeing from the man that now sat beside him at the wheel.
McDonnel eased the vehicle alongside the curb and parked. Trey gazed into the clear blue sky. It seemed absurd to fear an aircraft swooping unexpectedly from such vast emptiness, but every nerve seemed spring-loaded like a trap, ready to snap at the slightest motion.
McDonnel looked through his rearview mirror. “Are you two ready?”
Quiet grumblings from Zach and Amy answered in confirmation.
“All right then. Let’s go clear your names.”
Trey turned to face his friends one last time.
The agent glared at Trey through mirrored glasses. “I only agreed to bring you along if you could make a clean break.”
Trey nodded. “I know. We’ve said our goodbyes.”
Amy nodded, thumbing wetness from the corner of her eye. “Let’s go,” she said, shoving unsuccessfully against her locked door.
McDonnel hopped from the vehicle and quickly came to her aid. As the door swung open, Amy bolted through it and circled the rear of the SUV without looking back.
The well-dressed agent trotted around the front and pulled open Zach’s door.
Zach slapped Trey on the shoulder. “Later, Bro.”
“Later,” said Trey as his best friend lifted from the vehicle to join the others on the sidewalk.
Trey couldn’t contain his frustration at watching the three stroll away. He lowered the power window and poked his head outside. “This isn’t how it ends.”
McDonnel spun on his heels, shaking his head. He scowled at Trey, then thumbed to raise the window.
In subdued acknowledgment of Trey’s words, Zach tossed up his hand without looking back.
For a moment, Amy didn’t respond, but without warning she whirled in her sneakers and stomped toward Trey’s window.
Perplexed, Trey considered rolling up the window to avoid a heated slap.
Amy didn’t slow down, and when she arrived at his door, she reached inside the window with both hands and pulled him into a lip-lock.
Forcefully, she pulled away. “That’s how it ends.”
Trey sat like a stump as she raced away and took Zach’s hand. Robotically, Trey pushed the power button and the window hummed closed.
Livy spoke from the back. “What the heck was that?”
Flabbergasted, Tray had no clue how to respond.
“This isn’t how it ends.” she said, mockingly. “Do you have some secret plan we don’t know about?”
“No,” he said, relieved she hadn’t grilled him about the kiss. “But I’m not ready to just give up.”
“Good! That makes two of us.”
Silence followed as Trey watched his friends ascend the short flight of stone steps and disappear inside the sheriff’s office.
Over the quiet purr of the idling engine, minutes passed before Livy softly spoke again. “Should I be concerned about that kiss?”
Trey cringed. “No,” he said, whirling in his seat. “Of course not.”
She turned to the window with a feigned show of anguish. “Then why am I still sitting back here alone?”
Clearly, Livy’s body language was playful, but the underlying pain was genuine. Trey wasn’t the only one being separated from two close friends.
He threw open his door and stiffly stepped out into the hot afternoon sunshine. He gave a much needed stretch and took hold of the passenger door. Through the dark tinted glass, Livy signaled him dramatically with one hand, pointing straight ahead with the other.
Trey spun toward the building to see Zach waving both arms for attention. Zach dropped his hands and used them to frantically summon Trey to the building.
Cautiously, Trey tugged open the car door as he probed the air for vibrations. Livy rose beside him, their eyes fixed on the person who appeared to be Zach.
“Do you think it’s him?” he asked.
“It’s too far to tell.”
Zach cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone and shouted. “Come on!”
Without further hesitation, Trey slammed the door and set off toward the building at a jog with Livy close at his side.
At the first step, Livy let out a breathy cry of relief. “It’s him.”
Zach opened the heavy wooden door, the realization of their concern dawning on his face. “Yeah! It’s me.”
Trey stopped face to face. “What’s all this about?”
“It’s Smead. You’ll see.”
Trey led the way into the main corridor, where an empty reception window and two unoccupied ca
st-iron benches were all he found.
Zach pushed ahead and directed them toward an open office door with Sheriff Emmet Smead painted on the frosted glass in bold black print.
Inside, the husky frame of the small-town sheriff stood with his back to the door. Amy looked on from the corner like a frightened mouse.
McDonnel sat on a wooden office chair with both hands cuffed behind his back. His dark sunglasses were tucked inside his pressed white shirt pocket, exposing his glaring, angry eyes.
Smead turned abruptly at their entrance. A wide smile stretched his bearded face into a ball.
“There,” said McDonnel. “They’re fine.” He looked up to Trey. “Would you please tell Andy Griffith here that you’re fine and that we aren’t holding you against your will?”
The sheriff jumped to attention as if he’d forgotten something. “Oh, I better see for myself.” He unclipped a large smartphone from his side and awkwardly fumbled with the display until Amy stepped forward to press a single spot on the screen.
“Ah, there it goes,” he said. “Thanks.”
He turned the camera lens toward Trey and studied the real-time display. “Yep,” he said, raising his brow. He directed the camera toward Livy, then lowered it with a hearty sigh of relief. “It’s sure good to see you.” He put a large hand onto Trey’s shoulder. “Especially after this gentleman here so delicately broke the news of your passing.”
Trey flared at McDonnel. “You killed us?”
“Car accident,” the agent said coldly. “Now will you get these cuffs off me?”
Trey eyed Zach, then Amy, building his confidence. “That’s it.” He said resolutely, “I’m staying alive, and I’m staying me.”
He turned to Livy for reassurance.
She smiled back. “We’re both staying us.”
McDonnel lowered his head and waved it slowly. “That’s a big mistake.”
“Maybe,” said Trey. “But I’ll take my chances along with everyone else.” He looked to Amy’s wide blue-gray eyes. “I refuse to spend the rest of my life passing anonymous notes back and forth with my best friends.”
Amy’s face flooded with dread. “I wasn’t suggesting you put yourselves at risk.”
“I know. But there are risks for everyone, no matter what our identity.” He turned to the agent. “We’ll keep our heads down, and go dark if we have to. If that voids our arrangements, then so be it.”
McDonnel looked up. “It’s not ideal. Simmons won’t like it any more than I do, but we’ll have your backs.”
“Thanks,” he said, somewhat relieved.
Zach showed support with a fist to Trey’s shoulder.
“And yeah, Sheriff,” said Trey. “We’ve been working voluntarily with the feds, so you can un-cuff the agent.”
Smead tossed the small keys to Zach. “I know you can work those. Trey and I have some other important business to settle.” He twisted Trey by the shoulder to face the door. “Come with me.”
Trey shrugged toward Livy as the sheriff gently prodded him into the hallway. The husky lawman stepped alongside Trey and guided him past the offices and into the county jail. They passed by the empty holding cell and continued past the small interrogation room, eventually entering through the heavy steel door into the cell block.
Through the heavy bars, a man and woman looked up from a small folding table, both holding a fanned out hand of playing cards.
Trey’s mother met his gaze first. She dropped her cards and covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Her short black hair looked nothing at all like the loosely frazzled bun the aliens had projected.
His father rose quickly, unintentionally toppling the table with his knees. He threw his handful of cards over his shoulder and they scattered like butterflies.
Trey darted forward and shoved his arms through the bars. His mother scrambled to her feet and raced toward him, but his Father beat her there.
Smead tugged at Trey’s side. “Step back and I’ll get the door open.”
Trey didn’t bother and hugged his parents tightly through the cold iron bars.
The keys rattled in the lock and Smead pulled at the door, pushing the bars into Trey’s face. “Back up,” he said with a chuckle. “Let go of him, you two.”
Trey snapped back with sudden realization. “What are you doing in jail?”
“Protective custody,” said Trey’s mother, slipping through his hands as she stepped back.
Trey withdrew his arms from the cell and moved aside for Smead to swing open the squeaky metal door.
His father looked him over. “Are you all right? And your friends?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, Dad. The others are in the office. They’re fine too.”
“Thank God,” cried his mother. “I was so worried.”
Trey blew out a deep breath. “You were worried? I thought something terrible had happened to you two.”
“Us?” she said, waving it off. “Emmet’s been treating us like royalty.”
Trey was happy to hear it, but he couldn’t help wondering. “What happened at camp?”
His parents studied him thoughtfully. His mother was the one to reply. “Nothing. Why?”
“You left camp in a rush. I thought something must have happened.”
“Oh,” she said. “Emmet came and found us. He said you’d been taken into custody by the FBI.”
Smead stepped forward. “A bit of advice for ya, Trey: if you think you’re being followed, don’t take a direct route to your den.”
Trey thought back to how the police had caught up to him only miles from the entrance to Bison Back State Park. He felt silly for his lack of cunning, but it was a mistake he wouldn’t repeat.
He looked to his parents. “I hope you’re up for a lot more camping.”
Arken
SLIVERS OF MOONLIGHT breached the closely drawn curtains as Trey glided through the only home he had ever known. Sheriff Smead had been kind enough to cover most of the furniture with sheets, giving the old farm house a ghostly appearance.
Trey’s projected eyes soaked in every detail, wishing he could run his hands along the banister as he ascended the stairway to his bedroom.
Soundlessly, he drifted through the closed door and took in a scene frozen in time. Nothing had moved since the day he had departed in a late rush to meet Zach to pick out his best friend’s first vehicle.
A magazine lay open on his unmade bed. Beside his desk chair, a balled up bath towel was likely still damp. If he could smell, he suspected it had taken on a funk.
Shaking off the sentimentality, he dropped straight through the floor and into his father’s dark study.
A small red LED light flashed slowly at the corner of a flat-screen monitor, complaining it had lost contact with its computer, the one stowed in the back of the family minivan two states away at Camp Newee-Chek.
The center drawer on the large mahogany desk hung slightly ajar, making him wonder if his father had left it that way in his scramble to leave town, or if someone or some thing had searched the house.
He left the den and lingered in the living room, prepared to wait hours if need be for Arken to show for their arranged time. His optimism for seeing his genetic father again had grown weaker since the last missed meeting. He could think of only two reasons Arken couldn’t be there. Like himself, Arken had the ability to project his image without the aid of any devices, awake or asleep. That led him to conclude Arken had been unconscious or dead, and given what he knew about the black-eyed creatures, the former pointed to the later.
The old grandfather’s clock in the corner struck once, then ground slowly for another strike. Without his dad there to wind the coils on Sunday, the spring-loaded gong delayed twice as long as it should. Within days, it would halt completely. It struck again, then labored to ready for the next count. Finally nearly a minute later, it had pounded out the eleventh stroke.
Arken didn’t show.
Trey occupied the time as best he could as a bodiles
s projection, but mostly he watched and waited.
An eternity later, the old clock toiled through the litany of gongs that came at midnight.
The next hour went by in somewhat of a daze, and when the clock struck only once, it took Trey a moment to realize it hadn’t died trying to strike again.
Two hours past the arranged time was long enough. Arken had missed their meeting two weeks in a row.
Numbly, Trey opened his eyes and stared up into the domed one-man tent. A cool breeze drifted through the screen and across his shirtless chest. He considered how much more comfortable it would be to slip inside the sleeping bag beneath him, but moving wasn’t worth the effort. He closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him.
* * *
Trey woke to huge black eyes looking down upon him. He bolted upright and scanned his surroundings. Beside his single bed, a lanky pasty-skinned alien turned away and leaned over a single bed at the opposite wall. A person beneath the pure white sheets stirred to life and the alien pointed a long boney finger toward the drapery covered doorway.
Livy rose from the other bed and looked in Trey’s direction with wide curious blue eyes.
Trey fought against the dream, trying to gain control of his body. Without his command, his arms moved back the covers and his legs dropped over the side of the bed. He tried to project up and out of his unresponsive frame, but he was glued helplessly inside it.
The smooth cement walls were familiar, and if he could have forced his gaze upward, he was certain he’d have seen spidery cracks spanning across the ceiling.
A glimpse of a small wooden desk along the wall reminded him of his prior dream and the message he failed to comprehend. If this were a premonition of things to come, he would solve the riddle. Calmly, he gave in to the flow and filed away everything he was shown, convincing himself to hang on until the very end, not to be cut short by waking before the message could be completed.
Words trickled from Trey’s mouth without his knowledge. “I’m coming with you.”